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#and still a world begins its furious erasure

dilfdoctordoom · 3 years

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On Tom Taylor, the Current Nightwing Run & Ableism

I did mention I was gonna do a post about it, so here we are. There are some things I want to make clear before we begin: the issue exploded on Twitter on the very first day of disabled Pride month; disabled people have been discussing the ableism in Taylor’s Nightwing run since it began; nobody has blamed Taylor for what happened to Barbara in 2011. We are, however, blaming him for the way she is written in his series during 2021.

I am also going to be discussing the ableism in the fandom in this post. The reactions I have seen, from here to Twitter to TikTok, are showing not only a great misunderstanding of the situation, but a purposeful misunderstanding. The very real reasons disabled people are angry right now have been twisted to make us seem ridiculous and overly sensitive and I cannot help but feel that is very intentional.

Another quick addition: disabled people are not a monolith. Barbara Gordon spent over 20 years as a paralyzed wheelchair user. Stating (and I would like to note, never truly showing) that she is a part time cane user now is still erasing her disability. These things are not interchangeable.

So, with that out of the way, let’s begin.

Tom Taylor’s run is ableist. That is a fact of this situation. He made the active choice to include a version of Barbara Gordon that is ableist caricature. Story wise, the role that Barbara plays could have easily been filled by anyone else. There is no real season, within the narrative and outside of it, for Taylor to include this version of Barbara Gordon, who has received a decade of criticism from disabled people. It’s very well known that this iteration is problematic, to put it kindly, and Taylor is aware of that.

He made the active decision to include her, anyway, showing, at the very least, that he is passively, if not actively, ableist. Passive ableism is still ableism and disabled people are allowed to take issue with that.

That alone is reason enough for disabled people to be angry. But that’s not why things exploded on Twitter.

On July 1st, the very first day of disabled pride month, the new design for Barbara was dropped. After months of teasing Barbara’s return to a wheelchair using Oracle (see: Last Days of The DC Universe, Batgirl (2016), etc), they debuted... a new Batgirl costume that the artist has openly said draws inspiration from the Burnside suit.

There’s a lot of issues to unpack here, so let’s start small: the issue with consciously calling back to Burnside. The Burnside era of Batgirl stories was... beyond awful. The villain of the series’ first arc, was an AI based on Barbara’s brain patterns when she was disabled. It was evil because of all the rage and pain Barbara felt. The actual Barbara, on the other hand, was good -- because she was able bodied. Because her PTSD had been tossed aside. It was a horrifically ableist era that drove the idea that Barbara’s life was terrible when she was disabled; that it was some horrible, twisted secret.

Comics have kept that narrative going. Barbara is seen hiding books on chronic pain; she reacts aggressively to the mere idea that she could be in a wheelchair again, acting like it would be weakness. Whereas Barbara had once been Oracle not because of, but in spite of, her disability, who was fantastic representation for the disabled community, she now acts like it is the most shameful thing in her life.

To call back to Burnside is to call back to that ableism and make no critique of it. If anything, it’s to embrace the ideas of that era.

There is also the design itself to consider. Many people have pointed out the inclusion of a back brace, as if that saves it from ableism -- it does not. Any person who has ever worn a back brace can take one look at this design and know that they did not consult a disabled person. Hell, by how impractical that thing is, I doubt they even Googled a picture of a back brace.

It’s a superficial acknowledgement that Barbara is supposed to be disabled. Something that was apparently thrown in to appease the numerous complaints of Barbara being able bodied; something that no one working on it put any effort into.

When it comes to aids, this is not a new thing for Barbara in Infinite Frontier. She’s said to be using a cane occasionally, that we got a better look at in Batman: Urban Legends, and as any cane user can tell you... that is not a cane that could feasibly be used. It’s another pathetic attempt to acknowledge that Barbara is supposed to be disabled, without actually doing anything of importance.

[IMAGE ID: A segmented cane with a tri-pointed handle with a wrist strap. There is a stripe across the sections to connection them, labelled “solar battery charger buttons”. The text reads: “telescoping antenna doubles as cane or weapon if needed”. END ID]

Dropping this design (which we have now established to be problematic) on the very first day of disabled pride month is a sickening move. The very first day, and DC has doubled down on their disability erasure, thrown in superficial things like a back brace to act like it’s fine.

Tom Taylor is definitely involved in this, whether you like it not. No, he is not in anyway responsible for the events of the New 52 and what they did to Barbara Gordon, but that does not absolve him of blame for what is currently being done to her in his run.

When the design dropped, it started trending due to disabled fans reactions. To be clear: we were directly calling out the ableism in this design. This was Tom Taylor’s response:

[IMAGE ID: A tweet from TomTaylorMade that says: “Hey, @Bruna_Redono_F I think our new Batgirl suit is getting some attention.” He then adds a winky face emoji and tags @jesswchen and @drinkpinkkink. Attached are a screenshot showing that Batgirl is trending in the United States and a picture of the design itself. END ID]

This is him, bragging about how the disabled community reacted. Perhaps before this tweet, you could’ve made an argument that he was not ableist, but after he flaunted the fact that disabled people were rightly furious over this, like it was something to be proud of? No. If you are defending him, you are a part of the problem.

Taylor has included ableist writing in his Nightwing run, beyond the inherent ableism that comes with the current iteration of Barbara Gordon (whose inclusion, yet again, is his decision).

[IMAGE ID: A panel from Nightwing #79. Barbara and Dick are standing in his apartment. Barbara is saying: “I have some pretty new technology holding my spine together. I’m happy to do most things -- eat pizza in the park, take down low-level thugs -- but leaping from rooftops seems... unwise.” END ID]

What Barbara says in the panel above has bothered a lot of disabled people. The implication that she couldn’t “eat pizza in the park’ and “take down low-level thugs” without a spinal implant that conveniently erases her disability is... fucked up, to put it mildly. Those are both things that Barbara has done in a wheelchair. The first one is something wheelchair users can do and the implication that it’s not is beyond offensive.

But, let’s leave Barbara behind for a moment. I have previously mentioned that disabled people have been discussing the ableism present in this run long before July -- and that ableism is not only centred on Barbara. Dick is also a player in all this.

Dick Grayson was shot in the head. I don’t believe I need to retread the story, but just in case: Dick was shot in the head by KGBeast, developed amnesia from the event, and went by Ric Grayson for a long enough period in comics. If you have been active within the DC fandom for the past year or so, you know all about this controversial storyline and its fallout.

The Ric Grayson arc concluded itself the issue before Taylor became the writer for the series and ever since his tenure has begun, Taylor has completely ignored the reality of Dick being a disabled man. We understand this is comics, that things do not function the way they do in our world, but still -- it is clear that this gunshot wound to the head has affected Dick massively. We had an entire arc dedicated to how he struggled to find himself in the aftermath.

Taylor is choosing to write Dick as an able-bodied man, despite his canonical injuries and how they would impact his life.

This man is choosing to give empty gestures towards Barbara being a disabled woman (as discussed above, the completely dysfunctional back brace, etc) whilst writing her as able-bodied as possible. He writes both Dick and Barbara as able bodied as humanly possible. That is ableist. He is ableist. This is the same man that said he made a dog disabled ‘in honour of Barbara’. I do not think I need to elaborate on why that is bad.

The least he could’ve done, was get a sensitivity reader. We know that Taylor is not beyond getting people from marginalized communities to consult on his work (see: Suicide Squad), so why, when writing two characters that should be disabled, one that the disabled community have been criticising for a decade, does he not reach out to a single disabled person? A mere Google search could’ve improved the situation massively. In both the new design and the current writing, it is beyond clear that this is not just an able-bodied person writing it -- it’s an ableist person.

He could have listened to the numerous disabled fans that spoke out. Instead, he chose not only to refuse to do that, but to describe justifiable anger as ‘raging’. He treated us like we were crazy for daring to speak out about blatant ableism being parading around of us in our pride month.

Tom Taylor has failed to do the bare minimum and in doing so, he is, at very, very least, guilty of complicity. Again: passive ableism is still ableism.

The argument at hand is not just about Barbara Gordon and the continuing ableism that shines out from her current writing. The argument is about the treatment of disabled characters in his run. It has also become about the way he treats physically disabled people.

We also can’t have this conversation without acknowledging the fandom’s role in it all. I waited a day to write this up, to allow all the reactions to flood in... and I am sickened.

We have everything across the board. Able-bodied people that have actually listened to disabled people, who have supported us (which is deeply appreciated). Able-bodied people who may have had good intentions, but a skewed sense of the situation and perpetuating some of the more insidious lies being spread around (IE. that this is only about the new costume).

There are, obviously, the ableist reactions, though, that we will be discussing here. People deeming the current issues as ‘crazy’, calling disabled people ‘overly sensitive’ and ‘delusional’. Many people have completely glossed over the examples given for why Taylor, specifically, is ableist, and instead have resorted to telling disabled people that we are wrong and should be mad at DC instead.

It’s important to note that Tom Taylor is an adult man. He doesn’t need a fandom to attack disabled people for daring to call him out. He is not the victim in this situation; he has, for quite a few disabled people, been the aggressor.

I have seen claims that Infinite Frontier is a ‘slow burn’, implying that disabled people need to patient... as if we have not waited a decade for less ableist writing. There is a complete refusal from able-bodied fans to actually listen to what disabled people are saying. They would much rather rush to the defence of the (honestly rather mediocre) current Nightwing run.

Disabled fans know that comic book spaces are ableist. We know that both DC and Marvel and many of their writers are ableist. We are still allowed to be pissed as hell about it and acting like the current reaction being had right now is disabled people being ‘overdramatic’ is yet another example of how the able-bodied side of the fandom both refuses to listen to and undermine disabled people when we call out ableism.

We know it when we see it. We always do and we always will and we will always be able to recognize it far faster than an able-bodied person. If this many disabled fans are coming out and talking about an issue, calling it ableism, then it’s time for you shut up and listen.

Stop being a part of the problem and start supporting disabled fans for once.

#barbara gordon #dick grayson #nightwing #batgirl #tom taylor #tw ableism #okay to rb

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nugicus · 3 years

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Top 5 Archaeological Sites and Relics that were Irreplaceably Damaged on Account of Human Stupidity

As a major in the humanities, nothing makes me more livid than learning about the loss or irreversible damage of an immensely important example of cultural heritage due to mankind’s massive propensity to royally screw something up. Reasons for such poorly thought-out actions that lead to the impairment of historical artifacts can be the result of either amateur archaeologists who foolishly believed they knew what they were doing to outright malicious acts of vandalism. Whatever the reason the outcome is still painfully the same: the erasure of a cultural site that is incrementally tied to the fabric of ones cultural identity, preventing those who share that same identity from engaging in their own heritage. Here are some examples I found the most serious.

5. A Bunch of Brits Damaged an Important Irish Archaeological Site Because they Believed they were the Descendants of Biblical Hebrews

Ah, the late 1800s. A time when the European industrial powers had begun to implement foreign policies with an overwhelming focus on dominating other countries, especially those in Africa and Asia, as a means of obtaining inexpensive raw materials to feed their growing economies. In terms of amount of land annexed and political dominance, there was no imperialist power more successful in this complex process than Great Britain. In order to justify such vastly one-sided geopolitical influence, social Darwinian theories were frequently espoused by British statesmen which had the habit of arguing that the supposedly “superior” white race had the right and the duty to civilize nonwhite races that were deemed inferior. However, some Englishmen wanted to take it a step further by advocating an even more ridiculous belief, known as British Israelism.

Influenced by writings, such as John Wilson’s 1840 Our Israelitish Origin, adherents of this theory suggest that the modern day inhabitants of the British Isles are, both genetically and linguistically, the direct descendants of the Ten Lost Tribes of ancient Israel. Apparently, according to the pseudo-etymology used by British Israelists, the Saxons are the descendants of the ancient Scythians, a nomadic people who resided on the Pontic Steppe. The Scythians are, in turn, the descendants of the biblical “Isaac,” due to the phonetic similarity between what the Persians called the Scythians, the Sacae, and Israel’s patriarch. The name, Saxons, is also further interpreted to mean “Sac’s sons” or “son of Isaac.”

If all this sounds preposterous to you, that’s because it pretty much is. The languages of the British Isles, such as English, Welsh, and Gaelic, and Hebrew belong to two completely separate language families. The former is Indo-European, while the later is Afro-Asiatic. However, these hints that their theory was nothing more that pseudo-linguistic drivel didn’t stop British Israelists from damaging one of Ireland’s most important archaeological sites, the Hill of Tara.

Considered one of the most sacred locales in Ireland and an important symbol of Irish nationhood, the Hill of Tara had been used for three thousand and a half years as a pagan burial site and, during the early Middle Ages, it served as the seat of the High Kings of Ireland. Between 1899 and 1902, British Israelists led by judge Edward Wheeler Bird began to frantically dig up the site, mutilating much of it, in hopes of, get this, discovering the legendary Ark of the Covenant. Because if the Ark of the Covenant would be anywhere it would be in a place ancient Hebrews had no idea even existed. As one could imagine, Irish cultural nationalists, including professional archaeologists and journalists, were furious but ultimately couldn’t do a thing to stop them since the excavators paid off the local landlord and guarded the site with firearms as a means of keeping a group of protesters away from the dig site.

4. A German Amateur Archaeologist uses a very “Unconventional” Method to Excavate Troy

Archaeological fieldwork, especially excavations, are an incredibly meticulous process. The long, painstaking procedure of acquiring grant funds, organizing staff and equipment, mapping out the appropriate dig site, removing earth one layer at a time, and sifting through buckets of dirt looking for artifacts may take months if not years to fully accomplish. There’s a perfectly good reason for such scrupulousness since attempting to excavating a site without the proper know-how is extremely haphazard and can potentially damage the very thing you’re trying to uncover. A perfect case of this are the actions of one Heinrich Schliemann.

Born in 1822 to a relatively poor family in northern Germany, Schliemann had been obsessed ever since he was seven years of age with discovering and excavating the legendary city of Troy. After acquiring a sizeable fortune working as a businessman, Schliemann traveled to western Anatolia where Troy was vaguely believed to have existed. He was then pointed to a to nearby tell (an artificial mound formed by the accumulated debris of generations of people who once resided in a settlement), called Hisarlik, which, according to an Englishman named Frank Calvert who owned the land the mound was located on, as a possible location of Troy. In 1870, Schliemann then gathered a team of about one hundred local laborers and began digging at the site for about three years until he made an astounding discovery: Hisarlik wasn’t just the site of a single, important city, but multiple ones layered on top of one another formed after millennia as the settlement had been repeatedly destroyed and rebuilt by inhabitants.

In order to reach the lowest layer, which he believed was Troy from the Iliad, Schliemann relied on a very unorthodox method that other archaeologists wouldn’t even consider using and for good reason: dynamite. Ancient cities and priceless artifacts were literally obliterated into dust due to his recklessness and poor record keeping until eventually Schliemann thought he found what he was looking for. When he finally reach one of the lowest layers, he discovered a cache of golden objects and jewels, which he proclaimed to be the treasure of Priam, the king of Troy in Homer’s poem. However, there was a serious problem. Not only did Schliemann destroy countless finds on his destructive mission to reach what he believed to be Troy, but the treasures he recovered were actually from a city that existed centuries prior. According to dating methods, the Troy from the Illiad was actually located in the strata Schliemann annihilated with dynamite.

3. The Great Pyramid of Giza is Vandalized by Two German Amateur Archaeologists because they Believed they were Built by Aliens

Currently, one of the primary disseminators of pseudoarchaeological and pseudohistorical theories is undoubtedly the New Age movement. Beginning in the 1960s, this philosophy, which suggests that the world has become too materialistic and has turned away from the spiritualism that is the heart of creation and that there is a non-physical reality than underlies our physical world, is largely responsible for much of the spread of evidence-less beliefs that are related to history and archaeology. These assertions include claims regarding lost, technologically advanced civilizations, such as Atlantis, Lemuria, or Mu, or the theory that aliens have visited us in the Earth’s past and influenced our culture. Such fantastical notions have largely exited the fringe and have become more accepted since the late 20th century thanks in part to being picked up and discussed the History Channel.

Generally speaking, these theorists are typically harmless when it comes to their presence at archaeological sites, that changed in 2013 when a couple of German amateur archaeologists decided to vandalized Egypt’s Great Pyramid of Giza in order to prove that the monuments weren’t built by ancient Egyptians. In April of that year, Dominique Goerlitz and Stefan Erdmann, as well as a filmmaker, were, for some reason, given permission to enter the inner chambers of the pyramid that’s normally closed off to the public and proceeded to take a number of samples from a cartouche, which is a hieroglyphic inscription that normally represents the name and title of an Egyptian monarch, and smuggle them out of the country to Dresden University for further study. Neither men were professional archaeologists, nor were the associated with any institute involved in the field.

Apparently, the purpose of their defacement was to prove their “alternate theory” that the pyramids weren’t built by ancient Egyptians. Rather, they proposed that the Egyptian pyramids were build by a technologically advanced civilization that had existed much earlier than around 2500 BCE, which is when the Great Pyramid of Giza is believed to have been built.

As you can imagine, both German and Egyptian government authorities were absolutely furious over their actions. The three German hobbyists, as well six Egyptian guards and inspectors who let them into pyramid in the first place, are now facing serious charges. Lastly both Goerlitz and Erdmann tried to apologize for their vandalism in a letter directed to Egypt’s Ministry of Antiquities but it has been rightfully rejected.

2. Museum Workers use Epoxy Glue to Repair Tutankhamun’s Mask

Without a doubt, archaeological restoration and conservation is a delicate and arduous task that demands a considerable amount of research. Besides it requiring a professionally trained team of conservators and restorers who’re capable of making sure the object matches its original condition as close as possible while using a variety of methods, it is also highly dependent on that team to be aware of the materials used when the object was constructed. Completing such work can take what seems like ages as the restorers meticulously reverse or preserve the appearance of famous works of art, while following a strict code of ethics and scientific guidelines. Interestingly, employees at the Egyptian Museum in Cairo decided to ignore all that nettlesome repair work when they accidently damaged one of Egypt’s most important works of art.

Back in 2014, the famous Mask of Tutankhamen was clumsily damaged when it had it’s beard broken off while employees were busy fixing a light in it’s display case. Instead of following protocol by relying professional restoration methods and acquiring an expert in art restoration, they made the astonishingly poor decision of hastily gluing the beard back on with a quick-dry epoxy, that is normally used for wood or metal, in order to conceal their crime. This was followed a reckless scrapping by using a spatula in order to get some of the excess glue off, which ended up causing a scratch. They then placed the mask back into the display case with the hopes that no one will noticed. Unsurprisingly, however, guests did notice in 2015 when, on closer inspection, the beard appeared off center and that there was clearly a visible layer of glue between the face and the beard.

Despite fears that the damage was completely irreversible, German restoration specialist, Christian Eckmann, along with a team of conservators, archaeologists, and natural scientists successfully removed the glue and reattached the beard in a delicate operation that took nine weeks. First, they took a 3d scan of the mask to document it and then they raised it’s temperature in order to safely remove the epoxy glue with wooden tools. They then proceeded to fasten the beard by recreating the same technique the ancients would have relied on using beeswax. Now, the mask has been put back on display since late 2015 after a lengthy procedure. Meanwhile, eight of the employees who botched the repair job have been referred to trial by the Administrative Prosecution and are accused of negligence and unrefined restoration of the mask.

1. Greenpeace Damages the Nazca Lines due to a Publicity Stunt

Located in the arid Nazca Desert of Southern Peru, the Nazca Lines are an impressive series of large geoglyphs that span an area of about 19 sq mi. Created sometime between 500 BCE and 500 CE, these expansive markings that were etched in a pebble-covered, windless landscape, vary in design, but they the majority normally come in the form of straight lines that, when combined, are eight hundred miles long. They also appear to depict a myriad of plants, animals, and humanoid figures, such as a hummingbird, monkey, and a whale, that are usually composed of a single continuous line. Since they were first intensively studied in the 1940s, the reason for their existence has largely escaped modern scholars, though there have been numerous theories as to their purpose.

In the past few decades, the extremely fragile geoglyphs have come under threat due to changes in global weather patterns brought on by climate change. Disturbances caused by human actions is also a risk, since the ground is notoriously sensitive due to the fact that the ground is made up of nothing more than black rocks atop white sand. So far any damage the Nazca Lines have attained due to either environmental factors and human impact have been regarded as minimal. However, in December 2014, they sustained damage from an unlikely source which managed to infuriate the Peruvian government. As part of a publicity stunt, individuals affiliated with the environmental organization Greenpeace, of all people, entered an area near the geoglyphs that is strictly prohibited due to the fact that a single step can cause permanent damage. Then, as part of a message meant for a highly important, UN-sponsored meeting regarding global warming that was occurring in Lima at the time, they proceeded to lay down big yellow cloth letters near the hummingbird geoglyph that read: “Time for Change, The Future is Renewable.” After observing drone footage taken in the aftermath of the stunt, it was revealed through visual evidence that new lines were formed after the activists hiked to the site and what appears to be an outline of the letter “C.”

In response to such recklessness, Deputy Cultural Minister Luis Jaime Castillo has threatened legal action against the activists for what he rightly referred to as a “slap in the face at everything Peruvians consider sacred.” The Peruvian government was also seeking to prevent the participants from leaving the country and sought to identify the careless activists. Meanwhile, Greenpeace did its best to apologize for their actions in a statement they issued which states they plan to entirely co-operate with any investigation Peru has planned out. Unfortunately for Greenpeace, the apology did go over well with the people of Peru, which prompted Castillo to refer to it as a “joke,” since Greenpeace had initially refuse to identify the vandals or accept responsibility. After mounting pressure, however, Greenpeace decided to release the names of four of the activists involved by giving their names to prosecutors in the hopes that they will drop the charges against two journalists who were also at the event.

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artdaily7 · 4 years

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from Citizen: “Some years there exists a wanting to escape...” by Claudia Rankine

Some years there exists a wanting to escape—

you, floating above your certain ache—

still the ache coexists.

Call that the immanent you—

You are you even before you

grow into understanding you

are not anyone, worthless,

not worth you.

Even as your own weight insists you are here, fighting off the weight of nonexistence.

And still this life parts your lids, you see you seeing your extending hand

as a falling wave—

I they he she we you turn only to discover the encounter

to be alien to this place.

Wait.

The patience is in the living. Time opens out to you.

The opening, between you and you, occupied, zoned for an encounter,

given the histories of you and you—

And always, who is this you?

The start of you, each day, a presence already—

Hey you—

Slipping down burying the you buried within. You are everywhere and you are nowhere in the day.

The outside comes in—

Then you, hey you—

Overheard in the moonlight.

Overcome in the moonlight.

Soon you are sitting around, publicly listening, when you hear this—what happens to you doesn't belong to you, only half concerns you He is speaking of the legionnaires in Claire Denis's film Beau Travail and you are pulled back into the body of you receiving the nothing gaze—

The world out there insisting on this only half concerns you. What happens to you doesn't belong to you, only half concerns you. It's not yours. Not yours only.

And still a world begins its furious erasure—

Who do you think you are, saying I to me?

You nothing.

You nobody.

You.

A body in the world drowns in it—

Hey you—

All our fevered history won't instill insight, won't turn a body conscious, won't make that look in the eyes say yes, though there is nothing

to solve

even as each moment is an answer.

Don't say I if it means so little, holds the little forming no one.

You are not sick, you are injured—

you ache for the rest of life.

How to care for the injured body,

the kind of body that can't hold the content it is living?

And where is the safest place when that place must be someplace other than in the body?

Even now your voice entangles this mouth whose words are here as pulse, strumming shut out, shut in, shut up—

You cannot say—

A body translates its you—

you there, hey you

even as it loses the location of its mouth.

When you lay your body in the body entered as if skin and bone were public places,

when you lay your body in the body entered as if you're the ground you walk on,

you know no memory should live in these memories

becoming the body of you.

You slow all existence down with your call detectable only as sky. The night's yawn absorbs you as you lie down at the wrong angle

to the sun ready already to let go of your hand.

Wait with me though the waiting, wait up, might take until nothing whatsoever was done.

To be left, not alone, the only wish—

to call you out, to call out you.

Who shouted, you? You

shouted you, you the murmur in the air, you sometimes sounding like you, you sometimes saying you,

go nowhere,

be no one but you first—

Nobody notices, only you've known,

you're not sick, not crazy, not angry, not sad—

It's just this, you're injured.

Everything shaded everything darkened everything shadowed

is the stripped is the struck—

is the trace is the aftertaste.

I they he she we you were too concluded yesterday to know whatever was done could also be done, was also done, was never done—

The worst injury is feeling you don't belong so much

to you—

Victor Hugo 1857 The Wave or My Destiny, pen wash and gouache, Maison de Victor Hugo, Paris

#Claudia Rankine #Victor Hugo #Hugo #The Wave or My Destiny #Art #Poetry #Fine Arts #Painting #Poems #Some years there exists a wanting to escape #Citizen #Don't say I if it means so little #The Wave #My Destiny

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gunterfan1992 · 6 years

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Episode Review: ‘Come Along with Me’ (S10E13-16)

Airdate: September 3, 2018

Story by: Ashley Burch, Kent Osborne, Adam Muto, Jack Pendarvis, Julia Pott, Pendleton Ward & Steve Wolfhard

Storyboarded by: Tom Herpich, Steve Wolfhard, Seo Kim, Somvilay Xayaphone, Hanna K. Nyström, Aleks Sennwald, Sam Alden & Graham Falk

Directed by: Cole Sanchez & Diana Lafyatis (supervising), Sandra Lee (art)

In August of 2012, I had just moved into a university dormitory to begin my second year as an undergraduate. On one of the last days of the month (the date escapes me), I was relaxing in the hall recreation room with my roommate. To my left sat another friend, watching something intently on his laptop.

His focus was remarkable, and so I was intrigued. “What are you watching?” I asked.

He glanced over and responded, “Adventure Time!”

I’d heard of the show, and seen a few clips. At the time, I was taken aback by its combination of high brow and low brow sensibilities. But I saw how much joy it gave my friend, I put down my guard and decided to give it a watch.

He tilted the screen towards my face, and what was I greeted to? Why a geometric space-god with a flaming blue sword attacking a green individual in a bright yellow jacket. Suddenly, a boy and his dog were in the picture. What was going on?

As it turns out, I was watching season four’s “Sons of Mars”, one of the show’s wackiest episodes. In time, I was enthralled by the bright colors and the silly jokes. There was Abraham Lincoln. There was death. By the end of it, I was won over.

I still think fondly of that day (as readers of this blog might be able to attest), for it was then that I was introduced to my favorite show, Adventure Time.

For years, it seemed like Adventure Time was just an omnipresent facet of popular culture. From t-shirts to Happy Meal toys, Finn and Jake were everyone, blending into what Marshall McLuhan would call the “beaten paths of impercience.” When we all learned that the show was ending in late 2016, it was sad, but because there were dozens of episodes left to air, this reality never really hit me.

But this week, it finally hit me. The end was nigh.

At 5 pm today, I sat nervously on my couch as the intro started, and we were off to the races.

The episode opens 1000 years after the lives of Finn and Jake. We are greeted to two new heroes: Shermy (voiced by Sean Giambrone) and Beth (voiced by Willows Smith). The two are heavily implied to be Finn and Jake reincarnated, and the latter is likely a descendant of Jake himself. After an encounter with the Prizeball Guardian (last seen in “Grabyles 1000+”), the two discover Finn’s robot-arm. They decide to journey to Mount Cragdor (where the Enchiridion was once kept) to find the all-knowing King of Ooo.

Once our new heroes make the journey and reach the top of the mountain, we the audience learn that the King of Ooo is not our favorite charlatan, but rather BMO. After Shermy and Beth present our little robot with Finn’s arm, BMO begins to tell the story of the “Great Gum War”:

1000 years prior (that is, during the show’s normal timeline), Princess Bubblegum and her Uncle Gumbald had each amassed armies to take one another down. Just before the battles are to commence, Finn devises a plan to stop any blood shed: He calls one last meeting between the Candy Kingdom and Gumbaldia, and then, using the magic, nightmare-inducing potion given to him by Nightmare Princesss in “Orb”, he knocks everyone into a subconscious world, where he hopes that they will make nice.

Everything goes a bit haywire, but in the end, Bubblegum and Gumbald realize that their is no real reason for them to fight one another: they each want different things, and are rightfully ticked off at one another, but through dialogue they can likely work things out. Finn and Fern, too, realize that they share the exact same fears that they have locked in their collective “Vault”. Putting aside their differences, they team up and kill the grass-curse spider that has held Fern a prisoner for so long.

At this point, our heroes (and villains) wake up and decide to make amends. Gumbald, however, is tripped by Aunt Lolly, and after being splashed with dum-dum juice, reverts back to Punchy. Lolly, however, vows to maintain the peace with the Candy Kingdom.

Just then, King Man crashes out of the sky and reveals that he, Betty, and an unconscious Maja donked up in a major way. He and Betty were trying to use magic to summon the primordial space demon/god Golb so as to undo the magic of the Ice King’s crown. However, their magic was too effective, and they accidentally summoned Golb to this plane of existence.

Golb begins to use his chaos magic, mutating candy kingdom and Gumbaldia citizens alike into grotesque monsters. Ice King is summoned by King Man and told to try and stop Betty from completing her ritual, but in the commotion (which sees Maja literally explode) they, along with Finn, are accidentally swallowed by Golb, where they start to get digested.

Things start to go downhill fast. Golb’s monsters are extremely effectively, and decimate Bubblegum’s forces and those of her ragtag allies. As Bubblegum is standing on a rock, one of the Golb-monsters lunges at her and seemingly crushes her!

Marceline turns around and seeing the death of her past paramour, loses it. Unleashing both the beast and magic girl inside her, our favorite vampire turns into the Dark Cloud, last seen in Stakes and absolutely wails on the Golb-monster, tearing it to bits. She is absolutely furious that her best friend has been smooshed.

But luckily, it turns out that Bubblegum’s advanced battle armor had a handy shield, and she was saved from any danger. Marceline is overjoyed, and flies into the candy monarch’s armies, weeping tears of joy. The two hug.

And then comes the Bubbline kiss.

As Marceline and Bubblegum were holding each other close after the latter was very nearly squished, I knew it was now or never.

I was on the edge of my seat, as a tearful Marceline tells PB: “Even back when we weren’t talking, I was so afraid that something bad would happen to you and I wouldn’t be there to protect you and... I don’t want to lose you again!”

There’s some cute back and forth, and then the two quietly, effortlessly kiss.

The debate online as to whether or not the two were in a relationship has raged on- and offline since “What Was Missing” first aired years ago. As the two’s friendship evolved over the years, I came to believe that a romantic relationship was the next logical step for both the characters and the show itself to explore. Marceline and Bubblegum are unique in that they are two strong, intelligent, and emotionally complex female characters who often spend time exclusively with each other; the two ace the Bechdel test, a fairly rare occurrence in modern media.

It’s a bummer that the show waited until the very end of the series to canonize their relationship, but perhaps that makes it all the more rewarding? We have worked towards this culmination, and now we have a fully-acknowledged lesbian relationship between two major cartoon characters! How ground-breaking! Furthermore, regardless of when this canonization happened, the confirmation that Marceline and Bubblegum are “more than just friends” will inevitably help to undo some of the erasure that queer communities have faced since the dawn of media (if not time).

To sum up my feelings, let me just leave you with a (heavily) modified quote from Virginia Woolf:

“‘Marceline liked Bubblegum...’ Do not start. Do not blush. Let us admit in the privacy of our own society that these things sometimes happen. Sometimes half-demon vampires do like sentient pieces of Bubblegum.”

(Of course, I am curious as to what their future holds. We seem them together snuggling in the epilogue, but they are not around one thousand years in the future. This is, honestly, the biggest question that will bug me about the finale!)

Despite taking a literal pounding from Marceline, Golb’s evil creatures pull themselves back together and march towards the Tree Fort. Jake gives chase, but is not able to reach them in time: they smash Finn and Jake’s beloved home, and seriously injure poor BMO.

Jake is beside himself! His house is gone! But then, BMO comes over to him, and lovingly calms him down. BMO points out that Finn and Jake have long been a parent to the little robot, and now it is time for BMO to be the parent. And then, BMO begins to sing a tune “for his son Jake”, entitled “Time Adventure”.

"Time Adventure", written by storyboard artist extraordinaire Rebecca Sugar herself, encapsulates the best of the series: it's sad but uplifting. Melodic but rough-around-the-edges. It celebrates the wonders of life while also admitting that we can't really see all there is to it. Some people online criticized it for being too obvious (yes, the song’s title is just a flipping of the show's title), but in some way, I find that it's the most poetic and philosophical thing that its ever done.

When I was 11, I had my first real panic attack. I was out with my family when I was struck by a thought that has not left my head since: I'm going to die. Not that I can die, or that death might hurt. No. I am going. to. die; presumably, my consciousness will disconnect and I will not exist. I want to believe in an afterlife, but it’s an idea that seems oh so very hard to accept when faced with what we know about nature (but that’s a whole ‘nother discussion). These revelations horrified me, and it has taken years to really process what death actually means—and I’m still not there. None of us really are.

But as I’ve aged, I've been comforted by some rather Stoic ideas, like the idea that what will be will be and we should not stress about things that we simply cannot change. I also like the idea that we are all part of the cosmos, and while we will die, we don’t cease to exist: we just merge back into where we came from.

These musings are adjacent to another comforting idea: the fourth-dimensional view of time that BMO sings about:

Time is an illusion That helps things make sense So we're always living In the present tense ... Singing, will happen Happening happened [...] And will happen Again and again 'Cause you and I will always be back then

It’s true. Perhaps my “arrow-of-time consciousness” will be blasted into nothingness once I die, but I’m not ceasing to be. I eternally am. What happened is happening will happen. “Time is an illusion/That helps things make sense.” While this idea might not extinguish a fear of death, it’s a nice thought. And just like Adventure Time, when you combine enough nice thoughts, you often get something beautiful.

And beauty is all that was really needed for our heroes. It turns out that Golb is a creature of chaos, meaning that the only weapon that the citizens of Ooo can effectively use is concordance—harmony in music. It might seem a little silly that “beating the baddie with music” is how Golb’s minions are defeated, but considering the sort of magical role that music has played in the show, it’s not too much of the stretch. It also remains me of how the show used (and subverted) “defeating a baddie with heart” to great effect did in Stakes.

BMO (who hilariously declares, “My art is a weapon!”) is joined by Marceline and Bubblegum, and soon by Jake and the rest of the crew. Their combined harmonizing weakens Golb, allowing Finn and Simon to escape from his belly. However, Betty decides to remain behind. She realizes that the singing has also reset the ice crown’s phantasmal magic. Putting it on, she wishes for the power to ensure Simon’s safety, which entails her transforming (in a stunning sequence that IndieWire writer Eric Kohn refers to as “straight out of Don Hertzfeldt”) into Golb him(her?)self. Golb promptly leaves this reality, dropping the crown onto the ground. Gunter grabs it, and—despite Jake’s warnings that the naughty penguin will wish to become Orgalorg once again—Gunter merely wishes to turn into the Ice King (or, “Ice Thing”).

Finn and Jake return to the ruins of their tree fort, where they plant Fern’s seed. A new tree immediately sprouts from the ground, with the Finnsword embedded within it. Bubblegum arrives on the scene and thanks Finn for directly disobeying her. She gives him an appreciative kiss on the cheek and then muses that he is getting taller.

We cut back to Ooo 1000+, where BMO wraps up the story. Shermy and Beth still have questions (just like the audience!) about ‘Phil’ and Jake, and Marceline and Bubblegum. BMO shrugs these questions off, saying, “You know, they kept living their lives.”

Shermy and Beth set out to find the “Ferntree” to verify BMO’s story; they eventually realize that the large tree reaching up to the heavens near their stomping grounds is almost certainly it.

We cut back to Finn and Jake, who are sitting around the Music Hole from the episode of the same name. The hole tells our heroes that she has a new song for them, and she begins to sing “Come Along with Me” (which every Adventure Time fan knows is the show’s closing number).

While the Music Hole sings, we see Shermy and Beth climb to the top of the tree. We are also greeted to a montage of what happened to all our friends in Ooo:

Lumpy Space Princess is crowned a bonafide princess (or perhaps even a queen)

Ice Thing and Turtle Princess get married

TV becomes a private detection (just like his grandparents!)

Sweet Pea graduates from school and eventually becomes a super-huge hero, who carries Finn's Nightosphere-sword

Aunt Lolly and Bubblegum seemingly make up and learn to love each other as family members

Lemongrab gets one of Jermaine’s paintings to hang above his bed, which brings him peace

BMO blasts Moe's harddrive into space with the help of Banana Man

Flame Princess and NETPR get popular and perform at Hamburger Hills Cemetery to a huge crowd

Magic Man is the happy King of Mars

Simon spends quality time with Marceline and Bubblegum, and seems to try and summon Betty back using Prismo’s wish magic (sadly, it doesn’t work)

Marceline and Bubblegum, meanwhile, are shown snuggling on the couch in the former’s house; it is implied that they are raising Peppermint Butler, who once again is showing an interest in the dark arts

Humans return to Ooo, and Finn is likely reunited with his (digital mother)

We also see what the Jiggler, Tiffany, the Crabbit, Susan Strong/Kara and Freida, the Candy Kingdom citizens, Tree Trunks and Lemonhope are up to

The episode ends with Shermy and Beth finding the Finnsword in the Ferntree. After Beth pulls the sword from the (metaphorical) stone, Shermy holds it up, just like the show’s title card.

So now let’s talk about what worked and what didn’t. The last half of the finale, if I do say so, was wonderful. Nothing to complain about here: we got arc resolutions, emotionally touching moments, and a nice sense of closure. In regards to this latter point, I specifically like how the show gave use an ending but emphasized that this finale was not really the full-stop end of the characters that we know and love—it was just the end of the story that we’re privy to. As BMO says, everyone kept living their lives and the world kept on spinning. That’s a very nice way to end a show like this, and it feeds into the existential ideals of Adventure Time: there is no grand, overarching story that has to have some big punctuation at the end. Finn and Jake are heroes, but long after they’re gone, the world will still be here, and there will be other great heroes to take their place.

With all this said, I must admit that the finale’s first half is something of a missed opportunity. Opening with Shermy and Beth was a totally inspired move (and the new intro is gorgeously animated, courtesy of Science SARU Studios), but I believe the show lingered on their introduction for just a little too long. Likewise, the weird trippy nightmare portion of the finale was about 15 minutes too long. We did not really need 1/4 of the episode to be devoted to wacky dream imagery that both “King Worm” and “Orb” did more effectively. And given that the show chose to linger on these sections—sections that, in the grand scheme of things, are not super essential—the final portions of the episode came across as a bit rushed. The storylines are all satisfying, but it would’ve been nice if we had gotten a little bit more focus on Betty, Simon, and Finn, or Simon and Marceline, rather than Bubblegum and Gumbald’s wacky nightmares.

And speaking of Gumbald, his ending was a total cop-out. I’m not too torn up about this, given that he was never the main baddie in this episode (that was Golb), but his deciding to make peace and then accidentally reverting to Punchy was contrived and anticlimactic. To go back to a criticism I had of “Gumbaldia”, if the show had been given just a little more time to flesh his character and motivations out, I think his role in the finale would’ve been much better served.

But like I said, I wasn’t too torn up about this, because the main focus of this episode was on Golb and the horrors that such a being could unleash upon Ooo. And the show did this wonderfully. Indeed, it was quite exciting that the show finally had a villain that Finn couldn’t just punch a lot until it died (remember, he beat the Lich this way). Golb was, arguably, invincible. It was only the extremely broken magic of the ice crown could do anything.

Speaking of satisfying, “Come Along With Me” also gives Fern an excellent conclusion. The poor grass-doppelgänger was never evil, just confused. By finally coming to terms with his existential crisis of a life, he and Finn were able to patch things up. Sadly, this came at the expense of his dying (the scene in which Finn and Fern kill the grass-curse spider was quite fun). But even in death, there is life, and Fern’s demise allows a new tree to replace the old tree fort. How sweet is that?

Finn coming to terms with his disability was also a nice touch. As I mentioned in my review of Islands, Adventure Time seems to have a somewhat pessimistic view of technology. With this episode, Finn loses his robot arm once and for all, and instead of having PB build him a new one or dabbling in arm-magicks, he decides to let it all be. This is a very important lesson for the show to emphasize. Finn is still Finn with or without his arm. By constantly trying to ‘fix’ himself, Finn was trying to fill a hole that didn’t need to be filled. After experiencing all this Golb biz, it seems that Finn has come to terms with his essence and who he is as a person. And arm or no arm, he is still Finn.

But as satisfying as I found the episode to be overall, I still have some lingering questions! What happened to the Candy Kingdom that resulted in it getting totally razed in the future? Why was the Prizeball Guardian built? What happened to Marceline and Bubblegum, given that they, in their own ways, can evade death in various ways? These of course are questions that will likely never be answered, and they certainly can be filled in in the minds of fans, but these quandaries are probably going to bother me for awhile! (Heck, I just want to know what Marceline and Bubblegum’s future looks like: I don’t really care too much about that other jazz!)

As I write this, I’m both happy and heartbroken: I’m happy because my favorite show of all time has just aired perhaps the most satisfying finale that I have ever seen. I’m heartbroken because the story is now over.

But hold on.

Like BMO and Co. sing in “Time Adventure”, just because the story is over from my point of view does not mean it has slipped away into the ether of oblivion.

It’s comforting to think that in the fourth-dimensional view of existence, I still am in that rec room with my friends, watching “Sons of Mars” for the first time. In a way, I’m eternally laughing and smiling at the jokes. I’m eternally still realizing what a wonderful program Adventure Time really is.

And in that way, it’s true what they say: the fun will never end.

Final Grade:

Season Grade: Were this a standard season, I would probably have been a little harder on it. The Gum War, having been developed two or so episodes, really came out of nowhere and needed more time to be properly developed. It also seems a little odd that the series finale is at least partially focused on an antagonist who was only introduced this season. But these issues were not the fault of the production staff; they were problems with the show being cancelled by the network and the staff having to tidy-up everything before it was all over. Muto et al. honestly did the best they can with the hands they were dealt. And make no mistake, the result is pretty good, even if things are rushed. Yes, there is a lot to love about season 10. It’s got humor and heart, action and adventure, and plenty of romance! It’s not my favorite season by any means (that’s a tie between season 4 and 7), but its episodes are definitely in the upper-tier of the series, as far as quality goes.

Series Grade: Do I even need to say this?

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melifluos · 5 years

Text

(Claudia Rankine)

Some years there exists a wanting to escape— you, floating above your certain ache— still the ache coexists. Call that the immanent you— You are you even before you grow into understanding you are not anyone, worthless, not worth you. Even as your own weight insists you are here, fighting off the weight of nonexistence. And still this life parts your lids, you see you seeing your extending hand as a falling wave— / I they he she we you turn only to discover the encounter to be alien to this place. Wait. The patience is in the living. Time opens out to you. The opening, between you and you, occupied, zoned for an encounter, given the histories of you and you— And always, who is this you? The start of you, each day, a presence already— Hey you— / Slipping down burying the you buried within. You are everywhere and you are nowhere in the day. The outside comes in— Then you, hey you— Overheard in the moonlight. Overcome in the moonlight. Soon you are sitting around, publicly listening, when you hear this—what happens to you doesn't belong to you, only half concerns you He is speaking of the legionnaires in Claire Denis's film Beau Travail and you are pulled back into the body of you receiving the nothing gaze— The world out there insisting on this only half concerns you. What happens to you doesn't belong to you, only half concerns you. It's not yours. Not yours only. / And still a world begins its furious erasure— Who do you think you are, saying I to me? You nothing. You nobody. You. A body in the world drowns in it— Hey you— All our fevered history won't instill insight, won't turn a body conscious, won't make that look in the eyes say yes, though there is nothing to solve even as each moment is an answer. / Don't say I if it means so little, holds the little forming no one. You are not sick, you are injured— you ache for the rest of life. How to care for the injured body, the kind of body that can't hold the content it is living? And where is the safest place when that place must be someplace other than in the body? Even now your voice entangles this mouth whose words are here as pulse, strumming shut out, shut in, shut up— You cannot say— A body translates its you— you there, hey you / even as it loses the location of its mouth. When you lay your body in the body entered as if skin and bone were public places, when you lay your body in the body entered as if you're the ground you walk on, you know no memory should live in these memories becoming the body of you. You slow all existence down with your call detectable only as sky. The night's yawn absorbs you as you lie down at the wrong angle to the sun ready already to let go of your hand. Wait with me though the waiting, wait up, might take until nothing whatsoever was done. / To be left, not alone, the only wish— to call you out, to call out you. Who shouted, you? You shouted you, you the murmur in the air, you sometimes sounding like you, you sometimes saying you, go nowhere, be no one but you first— Nobody notices, only you've known, you're not sick, not crazy, not angry, not sad— It's just this, you're injured. / Everything shaded everything darkened everything shadowed is the stripped is the struck— is the trace is the aftertaste. I they he she we you were too concluded yesterday to know whatever was done could also be done, was also done, was never done— The worst injury is feeling you don't belong so much to you—

#Claudia Rankine #poem #poetry #you

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reneedeneve · 2 years

Text

Citizen: “Some years there exists a wanting to escape...”

BY CLAUDIA RANKINE

Some years there exists a wanting to escape— you, floating above your certain ache— still the ache coexists. Call that the immanent you— You are you even before you grow into understanding you are not anyone, worthless, not worth you. Even as your own weight insists you are here, fighting off the weight of nonexistence. And still this life parts your lids, you see you seeing your extending hand as a falling wave— / I they he she we you turn only to discover the encounter to be alien to this place. Wait. The patience is in the living. Time opens out to you. The opening, between you and you, occupied, zoned for an encounter, given the histories of you and you— And always, who is this you? The start of you, each day, a presence already— Hey you— / Slipping down burying the you buried within. You are everywhere and you are nowhere in the day. The outside comes in— Then you, hey you— Overheard in the moonlight. Overcome in the moonlight. Soon you are sitting around, publicly listening, when you hear this—what happens to you doesn't belong to you, only half concerns you He is speaking of the legionnaires in Claire Denis's film Beau Travail and you are pulled back into the body of you receiving the nothing gaze— The world out there insisting on this only half concerns you. What happens to you doesn't belong to you, only half concerns you. It's not yours. Not yours only. / And still a world begins its furious erasure— Who do you think you are, saying I to me? You nothing. You nobody. You. A body in the world drowns in it— Hey you— All our fevered history won't instill insight, won't turn a body conscious, won't make that look in the eyes say yes, though there is nothing to solve even as each moment is an answer. / Don't say I if it means so little, holds the little forming no one. You are not sick, you are injured— you ache for the rest of life. How to care for the injured body, the kind of body that can't hold the content it is living? And where is the safest place when that place must be someplace other than in the body? Even now your voice entangles this mouth whose words are here as pulse, strumming shut out, shut in, shut up— You cannot say— A body translates its you— you there, hey you / even as it loses the location of its mouth. When you lay your body in the body entered as if skin and bone were public places, when you lay your body in the body entered as if you're the ground you walk on, you know no memory should live in these memories becoming the body of you. You slow all existence down with your call detectable only as sky. The night's yawn absorbs you as you lie down at the wrong angle to the sun ready already to let go of your hand. Wait with me though the waiting, wait up, might take until nothing whatsoever was done. / To be left, not alone, the only wish— to call you out, to call out you. Who shouted, you? You shouted you, you the murmur in the air, you sometimessounding like you, you sometimes saying you, go nowhere, be no one but you first— Nobody notices, only you've known, you're not sick, not crazy, not angry, not sad— It's just this, you're injured. / Everything shaded everything darkened everything shadowed is the stripped is the struck— is the trace is the aftertaste. I they he she we you were too concluded yesterday to know whatever was done could also be done, was also done, was never done— The worst injury is feeling you don't belong so much to you—

#poetry #poem #writing #inspiration #thoughts #life #Claudia Rankine “Some years there exists a wanting to escape #claudiarankine #writer #Citizen: An American Lyric

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sundancepoetry · 4 years

Photo

And still a world… And still a world begins its furious erasure— Who do you think you are, saying I to me? You nothing. You nobody. You. A body in the world drowns in it— Hey you— Claudia Rankine, 'Some years there exists a wanting to escape...' from Citizen

#black poets #claudia rankine #feminism #poetry quotes #quotes

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blissmysolitude · 7 years

Audio

Citizen: “Some years there exists a wanting to escape...”

BY CLAUDIA RANKINE

Some years there exists a wanting to escape—

you, floating above your certain ache—

still the ache coexists.

Call that the immanent you—

You are you even before you

grow into understanding you

are not anyone, worthless,

not worth you.

Even as your own weight insists

you are here, fighting off

the weight of nonexistence.

And still this life parts your lids, you see

you seeing your extending hand

as a falling wave—

I they he she we you turn

only to discover

the encounter

to be alien to this place.

Wait.

The patience is in the living. Time opens out to you.

The opening, between you and you, occupied,

zoned for an encounter,

given the histories of you and you—

And always, who is this you?

The start of you, each day,

a presence already—

Hey you—

Slipping down burying the you buried within. You are

everywhere and you are nowhere in the day.

The outside comes in—

Then you, hey you—

Overheard in the moonlight.

Overcome in the moonlight.

Soon you are sitting around, publicly listening, when you

hear this—what happens to you doesn't belong to you,

only half concerns you He is speaking of the legionnaires

in Claire Denis's film Beau Travail and you are pulled back

into the body of you receiving the nothing gaze—

The world out there insisting on this only half concerns

you. What happens to you doesn't belong to you, only half

concerns you. It's not yours. Not yours only.

And still a world begins its furious erasure—

Who do you think you are, saying I to me?

You nothing.

You nobody.

You.

A body in the world drowns in it—

Hey you—

All our fevered history won't instill insight,

won't turn a body conscious,

won't make that look

in the eyes say yes, though there is nothing

to solve

even as each moment is an answer.

Don't say I if it means so little,

holds the little forming no one.

You are not sick, you are injured—

you ache for the rest of life.

How to care for the injured body,

the kind of body that can't hold

the content it is living?

And where is the safest place when that place

must be someplace other than in the body?

Even now your voice entangles this mouth

whose words are here as pulse, strumming

shut out, shut in, shut up—

You cannot say—

A body translates its you—

you there, hey you

even as it loses the location of its mouth.

When you lay your body in the body

entered as if skin and bone were public places,

when you lay your body in the body

entered as if you're the ground you walk on,

you know no memory should live

in these memories

becoming the body of you.

You slow all existence down with your call

detectable only as sky. The night's yawn

absorbs you as you lie down at the wrong angle

to the sun ready already to let go of your hand.

Wait with me

though the waiting, wait up,

might take until nothing whatsoever was done.

To be left, not alone, the only wish—

to call you out, to call out you.

Who shouted, you? You

shouted you, you the murmur in the air, you sometimessounding like you, you sometimes saying you,

go nowhere,

be no one but you first—

Nobody notices, only you've known,

you're not sick, not crazy,

not angry, not sad—

It's just this, you're injured.

Everything shaded everything darkened everything

shadowed

is the stripped is the struck—

is the trace

is the aftertaste.

I they he she we you were too concluded yesterday to

know whatever was done could also be done, was also

done, was never done—

The worst injury is feeling you don't belong so much

to you—

#poem #alienation #claudia rankine #post-rock #tokyo pulse #the picturesque episodes #lost in crowds #not belonging #isolation #solitude #blissmysolitude

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effervescent101 · 7 years

Text

"Some years there exists a wanting to escape...”

#claudia rankine #citizen an american lyric #may #2017 #california #poetry

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backdroplock · 3 years

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“from Citizen: ‘Some years there exists a wanting to escape...’” by Claudia Rankine

Some years there exists a wanting to escape— you, floating above your certain ache— still the ache coexists. Call that the immanent you— You are you even before you grow into understanding you are not anyone, worthless, not worth you. Even as your own weight insists you are here, fighting off the weight of nonexistence. And still this life parts your lids, you see you seeing your extending hand as a falling wave— / I they he she we you turn only to discover the encounter to be alien to this place. Wait. The patience is in the living. Time opens out to you. The opening, between you and you, occupied, zoned for an encounter, given the histories of you and you— And always, who is this you? The start of you, each day, a presence already— Hey you— / Slipping down burying the you buried within. You are everywhere and you are nowhere in the day. The outside comes in— Then you, hey you— Overheard in the moonlight. Overcome in the moonlight. Soon you are sitting around, publicly listening, when you hear this—what happens to you doesn't belong to you, only half concerns you He is speaking of the legionnaires in Claire Denis's film Beau Travail and you are pulled back into the body of you receiving the nothing gaze— The world out there insisting on this only half concerns you. What happens to you doesn't belong to you, only half concerns you. It's not yours. Not yours only. / And still a world begins its furious erasure— Who do you think you are, saying I to me? You nothing. You nobody. You. A body in the world drowns in it— Hey you— All our fevered history won't instill insight, won't turn a body conscious, won't make that look in the eyes say yes, though there is nothing to solve even as each moment is an answer. / Don't say I if it means so little, holds the little forming no one. You are not sick, you are injured— you ache for the rest of life. How to care for the injured body, the kind of body that can't hold the content it is living? And where is the safest place when that place must be someplace other than in the body? Even now your voice entangles this mouth whose words are here as pulse, strumming shut out, shut in, shut up— You cannot say— A body translates its you— you there, hey you / even as it loses the location of its mouth. When you lay your body in the body entered as if skin and bone were public places, when you lay your body in the body entered as if you're the ground you walk on, you know no memory should live in these memories becoming the body of you. You slow all existence down with your call detectable only as sky. The night's yawn absorbs you as you lie down at the wrong angle to the sun ready already to let go of your hand. Wait with me though the waiting, wait up, might take until nothing whatsoever was done. / To be left, not alone, the only wish— to call you out, to call out you. Who shouted, you? You shouted you, you the murmur in the air, you sometimessounding like you, you sometimes saying you, go nowhere, be no one but you first— Nobody notices, only you've known, you're not sick, not crazy, not angry, not sad— It's just this, you're injured. / Everything shaded everything darkened everything shadowed is the stripped is the struck— is the trace is the aftertaste. I they he she we you were too concluded yesterday to know whatever was done could also be done, was also done, was never done— The worst injury is feeling you don't belong so much to you—

#Claudia Rankine #poetry

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babakziai · 6 years

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Some years there exists a wanting to escape— you, floating above your certain ache— still the ache coexists. Call that the immanent you— You are you even before you grow into understanding you are not anyone, worthless, not worth you. Even as your own weight insists you are here, fighting off the weight of nonexistence. And still this life parts your lids, you see you seeing your extending hand as a falling wave— / I they he she we you turn only to discover the encounter to be alien to this place. Wait. The patience is in the living. Time opens out to you. The opening, between you and you, occupied, zoned for an encounter, given the histories of you and you— And always, who is this you? The start of you, each day, a presence already— Hey you— / Slipping down burying the you buried within. You are everywhere and you are nowhere in the day. The outside comes in— Then you, hey you— Overheard in the moonlight. Overcome in the moonlight. Soon you are sitting around, publicly listening, when you hear this—what happens to you doesn’t belong to you, only half concerns you He is speaking of the legionnaires in Claire Denis’s film Beau Travail and you are pulled back into the body of you receiving the nothing gaze— The world out there insisting on this only half concerns you. What happens to you doesn’t belong to you, only half concerns you. It’s not yours. Not yours only. / And still a world begins its furious erasure— Who do you think you are, saying I to me? You nothing. You nobody. You. A body in the world drowns in it— Hey you— All our fevered history won’t instill insight, won’t turn a body conscious, won’t make that look in the eyes say yes, though there is nothing to solve even as each moment is an answer. / Don’t say I if it means so little, holds the little forming no one. You are not sick, you are injured— you ache for the rest of life. How to care for the injured body, the kind of body that can’t hold the content it is living? And where is the safest place when that place must be someplace other than in the body? Even now your voice entangles this mouth whose words are here as pulse, strumming shut out, shut in, shut up— You cannot say— A body translates its you— you there, hey you / even as it loses the location of its mouth. When you lay your body in the body entered as if skin and bone were public places, when you lay your body in the body entered as if you’re the ground you walk on, you know no memory should live in these memories becoming the body of you. You slow all existence down with your call detectable only as sky. The night’s yawn absorbs you as you lie down at the wrong angle to the sun ready already to let go of your hand. Wait with me though the waiting, wait up, might take until nothing whatsoever was done. / To be left, not alone, the only wish— to call you out, to call out you. Who shouted, you? You shouted you, you the murmur in the air, you sometimes sounding like you, you sometimes saying you, go nowhere, be no one but you first— Nobody notices, only you’ve known, you’re not sick, not crazy, not angry, not sad— It’s just this, you’re injured. / Everything shaded everything darkened everything shadowed is the stripped is the struck— is the trace is the aftertaste. I they he she we you were too concluded yesterday to know whatever was done could also be done, was also done, was never done— The worst injury is feeling you don’t belong so much to you— Claudia Rankine, “Some years there exists a wanting to escape… (pp. 139-146)” from Citizen. Copyright © 2014 by Claudia Rankine. Reprinted by permission of Graywolf Press. Source: Citizen: An American Lyric(Graywolf Press, 2014) Claudia Rankine BiographyMore poems by this author Poem of the Day: from Citizen: “Some years there exists a wanting to escape…” Poem of the Day: from Citizen: “Some years there exists a wanting to escape…” Poem of The Day {$excerpt:n} Source: Poem of The Day

http://babakziai.org/poem-of-the-day-from-citizen-some-years-there-exists-a-wanting-to-escape/

#Poetry #Babak Ziai

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