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scenetocause · 1 month

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For the director's cut thing: At the end of Climb up to your lips, you implied Max F and Logan might be A Thing, and I'd love to hear more about that if you want to share ❤️

idk if i'll ever actually finish the logan perspective thing i started writing midway through the main story bc actually when i looked back at it i was like these are really just my own background notes what do you think you are jrr tolk himself you don't have to publish stuff you wrote for your own reference. but hey if there ever was a medium for all your stupid lore and self-fanfic then it surely is a o three dot org (note to old men fantasy writers etc) so maybe i will.

basically the thesis is that logan, like oscar at the start, is lonely and can't get what he wants, which is a boyfriend. both him and oscar have resigned themselves to never being able to reconcile their ambitions in f1 with anything that fulfils them in that way and sort of let their friendship settle as a pseudo-standin where they can hang out and be each other's person to take to things, go to dinner with, whatever and just live in suspended animation until something (???) happens and they get disney prince rescued.

something does happen for girloscar which is that she isn't so much disney prince rescued as like, dragged into a bath by a wet cat. and she can't believe this is happening because she's fancied lando for ages, used to pine at him from the alpine pit wall so much she got caught by otmar once, who mistook it for trying to steal secrets off mclaren and she had to make something up about the front wing.

she's so excited to be teammates with him but also so, so mortified and trying really hard to be normal about it. logan's thrilled to be in f1 at all but also realising that deal he had for fucking about a little bit with some of the f2 guys was just fucking about for them when their girlfriends weren't on the travel budget and definitely won't survive being in different paddocks.

oscar gets lando and logan gets lonelier. at the same time, his season's falling apart and everyone's announcing his career dead before it feels like it's had a chance to start. he has to rely on benny and james and benny starts to, gently, put distance between them to keep it professional, manage logan's expectations. so he clings to james, at the same time as knowing this is probably the worst possible way to try and keep his seat and that it's going nowhere, the team principle not a viable fuckbuddy, let alone anything more.

enter jenson button. hot dad, sympathetic ear, special advisor to williams. whiskey supplier. a man who's there to help you celebrate your first f1 point and certainly isn't going to argue if that involves a bit of fucking your brains out. lovely, sweet, gentle, funny jenson who makes logan feel special and loved and sweeps him up from his flat in london in fancy cars to go to fancier restaurants as though he deserves the champagne.

and then goes home to his wife and kids.

somewhere along the way, hurting during the 2024 season, logan has to break it off. he wants what oscar and lando have, not this. it was glamorous and exciting and giving him the confidence he was part of this world he's fighting to stay in, for awhile but then it starts making him realise he'll only ever be the number two in that situation, forever out of contention for the real prize. it's all a bit on the nose.

so he stubbornly struggles through 2024, single as fuck and finding himself taking rather than giving advice to oscar about things to stick up your arse, which feels lonelier than ever before. in miami the combination of his and oscar's shit weekend and lando's good one leads to him coming out for a few drinks and ending up fucking one of the mclaren pr guys. he has a meltdown when he sees the papaya shirt on the floor the next morning.

pr guy's very discreet about it, although he keeps smiling at logan every time they cross paths and logan's about 85% sure there isn't actually a need for him to follow oscar so closely, actually. logan's shaky position makes someone being so into him about as comfortable on his skin as sweaty fireproofs but that doesn't stop him being desperate enough to fall into bed with the guy again once he has something to celebrate. once he realises he's charlie-from-marketing's jenson figure.

he's not an asshole so he does take the guy on a few dates, try and romance him a bit. maybe he, too, can find love with a mclaren twink, it worked for oscar after all. but it just doesn't click, the guy doesn't really understand him, too in awe of the fact he's getting screwed by an f1 driver to notice the bedsheets are ikea and one of the pillows is pretty badly tearstained. that logan's barely clinging to his ride, feels like he is what they're saying; one of the worst ever, not even brave enough with the car to crash as spectacularly as latifi.

logan doesn't exactly break it off but says he needs them to take a break while he's negotiating his contract, can't risk anything. it's not a huge surprise when a few week's later it's obvious the guy's moved on with ollie bearman. like his last relationship, it's all a bit on the nose.

2025 gives him time to work out what he really wants. f1 might not be it, life might be better somewhere else. he starts talking to formula e teams, wondering if a life in papaya might not be that bad after all provided he didn't have to see oscar and lando mooning over each other. and that's not even fair because oscar asks him to be her best man and he's stoked, especially because lando's is max and they've stayed in touch, still hang out. max is doing a few bits racing gts, initially as a quadrant thing but then it turned out he was more than good enough to be in demand as the pro to a gentleman driver who was so eager to get back in a race car he didn't really negotiate on price, even.

logan avoids asking him about it but max is fucking hype about how mint the 24 hours of spa is. fucking mental, mate. you're throwing it up eau rouge with a bunch of blokes who wear suits, like proper suits not race suits, all week in the pitch dark and it's shitting it down with rain and you think: i shouldn't be enjoying this, should i? should really be driving into the pits and saying no thanks, that's absolutely mad, can't be doing that sort of business. but then when it's happening you're like, properly into it, aren't you? got a podium in misano, mate, it was mad. blowie off one of the mechanics, that didn't happen in f3 did it haha mind you guess they would've been a bit of a nonce back then wouldn't they. you should come to a race i'll get you vip, they'll go mental for an f1 driver being there mate, they went mad when bob dropped into brands and he was only there five minutes.

logan doesn't say that he thinks he has a lot less star power than lando but they do give him vip anyway. he's never been to magny cours before, it feels weighted with that type of european history the classic race tracks do, like another thing that might find out who he is and reject him.

even if the circuit isn't embracing him, max does. complains about logan being so fucking tall, mate, it's annoying, i swear you were smaller than me once. he wasn't but max can pretend that, if it helps. max is jangling with nerves, rushing between trying to sort things out with the team - because it's not like, you know, f3 and that, you have to set the car up so the other bloke can drive it the best he can and then you just sort of have to cope with how it is. actually, that's quite like f3 innit? do you remember in fucking silversto- nah, let's not think about that right now.

it's nice. it's nothing to do with f1. even with the quadrant logos, that's max's thing, no weird haunting of lando around and it's not like logan dislikes the guy, at all, it's just that it's nice that this is all theirs. logan can breathe out, relax, laugh properly for what feels like the first time in ages because no one's scrutinising his every move and max gives him a headset and tells him to listen out for when he's boxing, put the fucking kettle on, yeah?

logan falls asleep on max's hotel bed, listening to him recount the whole story of a race he just watched. max tucks him in, rather than the trophy and if they wake up hugging that's no one's business but theirs. didn't used to do blowies in f3, either but when there's something to celebrate and max really is so small, so cute, so unselfconscious about everything because it's just them, yeah. doesn't have to be a massive fuss like bob and oscar, do you want a lift back to the uk? i've got space since bob moved his fucking golf clubs out the boot finally.

oscar and lando get married a week later and it's very oscar and lando. logan didn't have a date to bring, didn't even think about it before he saw george's girlfriend and kelly and the sharp stab of whoever lewis' guy is. logan knows there's no point being jealous on that scale; he couldn't be lewis, on any level but everyone wants, don't they?

max doesn't have a date either. probably doesn't need to hold logan's hand while they're waiting for lando and oscar to do their vows and max is crying and maybe logan's crying too. they have to stay behind to clear up the flower petals, getting tutted at in french while max rolls his eyes and says they should try being told off at Viry, fucking hell.

if they're later to the reception than is strictly necessary because as they were leaving max turned round and said "do you think, mate. you know, we could - one day" and logan decided to stop living on borrowed time and properly make out with him against the harbour wall. have to stop because they're getting dangerously close to third base and max is breathy and gasping and telling logan he can have this. they always were equals, each others' biggest rivals, maybe they're meant to be here, bright eyed and hair disarrayed and grinning at each other, not the places they've been struggling.

oscar's definitely onto them, makes some really crude comments about it being traditional for the best man and head bridesmaid to fuck, innit and logan has to tell her to fuck off and bother her husband. they are properly cute, though, aren't they? never thought bob would be able to hold a relationship together but she's properly straightened him out, who knew he just had to get pegged- fuck, pretend i didn't say that. oh, how did you know, too?

logan and max normally stay with lando and oscar when they're in monaco. but there's only one spare room and this doesn't feel the moment to drop that announcement, as well as they do not want to hear what those two pervs are doing to each other tonight. so they're in different hotels but everything in monte carlo's pretty much the same place, pick logan's on the basis it's nearer the casino and they can go for a late night, last drink once they've got oscar and lando's very drunk dads into a cab.

kissing when they're in fancy suits is hot. fucking when they're out of them is hotter. when logan slides home into max's body and sees him gasp, feels his hands curl on logan's shoulders as they both moan and if it's too much like lovemaking then, well. maybe that's what they're doing. creating something, between them. something that's all theirs and they can choose without anyone else's decisions or approval. no need to wait in limbo or have to guess what happens next, which is that they come on each other and then curl up together, max sprawled on logan's chest all happy and sated and real.

he doesn't wait for the f1 decision, to make plans. racing drivers aren't patient and he finally feels like one again, especially every time his boy brings home a trophy like it's theirs. logan starts adding to the collection, too. both of them get to push, at last. they've always been good at doing that for each other.

#emptyhalf fic

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jishyucks · 3 years

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It's the Thought that Counts ‣ njm

‣ genre: implied f2l, fluff, pining, female reader

‣ wc: 1.3k

‣ summary: In which you're Jaemin's plus-one to a wedding and questions start to run through your head rent-free

‣ an: (pretend Jaemin and Jaehyun are cousins in this)–idk if this is cute, but it was cute to me (◕‿◕), it's lowkey cliche but who doesn't like cliches... anyways, gonna start writing 'shorter' scenarios so I can post more frequently, enjoy!!

There was no denying that you’d rather be at home binge-watching a kdrama right now instead of attending a wedding. But because Jaemin had asked you to be his plus one ever so cutely, you couldn’t help but give in to his pleas before he could even begin his nearly endless tangent about why attending weddings was somehow significant to other events in life.

You had nothing against weddings, in fact, you’ve watched the Crazy Rich Asians scene so many times you can’t even count every single time you did, but it was the formality that made you not want to go. Though it was understandable why it was a formal occasion, you wished you didn’t have to care so much about what you wore just to go. Yet here you were, sitting in the passenger’s seat of Jaemin’s car all glammed up to go to his cousin, Jaehyun’s, wedding

“The guys are going, too, so not everyone will be complete strangers,” Jaemin mentioned, “I wanna see your reaction to them in suits and ties.” He turns into a parking lot in front of a venue that was completely packed. You could see other guests making their way into the building, smiles plastered effortlessly on their faces. You figured that this wouldn’t be that bad, especially because of how joyful the occasion was.

Jaemin pulls into a free parking spot, double-checking his reflection in the mirror, “Why didn’t you tell me my hair is all weird?”

You shrugged, “I didn’t think it looked bad.” And it was true, Jaemin looked good no matter how he was styled, but you swore to yourself you were not going to admit that out loud. Especially not to Jaemin.

You hear him huff before reaching up to fix tufts of his hair to look neater. He pats it down before nodding in satisfaction and turning to you, “Are you ready?”

“Yeah, especially since it took you long enough to fix your hair,” you joked. Pulling the car door handle, it pops open, allowing you to slip out easily. Jaemin follows in pursuit, dusting off his suit as he stands up.

“Ya! Na Jaemin!” You look around almost instantly, trying to pick out who called your best friend from the fairly large crowd of people. After a short while of searching, you finally identify them. Among those entering the wedding’s venue, you find the one and only Lee Jeno waving his arms shamelessly to catch yours and Jaemin’s attention, “Over here! Jaemin! Y/N!

You smiled and waved back, trying not to laugh obnoxiously at how ridiculous Jeno looked. As you and Jaemin begin making your way to him, you could see Mark and Chenle join Jeno at the curb, waving along.

“You guys look handsome as always,” you compliment, wondering why Jaemin wanted to see your reaction as if you’d be laughing your ass off at the sight of boys in suits.

Mark beams, “You look beautiful, as always.”

You miss Jaemin throwing a look at Mark before turning to you, “Hey, you didn’t say that to me…” You turned to find Jaemin looking back at you with a pout and a puzzled set of eyebrows, “Don’t I look good?”

You feel your heartbeat quicken in pace at your friend’s wish for a compliment, “Only a little.” A lie. He looked the most attractive out of basically everyone present, but you knew that if you did end up telling him that he looked handsome as hell, it was you who was gonna be losing your shit and not Jaemin. Jaemin would use this opportunity to tease you, and any boosted attention from Jaemin was basically someone asking to be punched in the gut (and hard).

Ignoring the stank glare Jaemin gave you for your reply, you turn back to Mark, Jeno, and Jeno, “Anyways… Where are the others?"

“Inside getting seats,” Chenle replied, “I guess we should go in and join them.” The rest nodded, all turning towards the building and following the other guests through the many entrances. You stuck by Jaemin’s side, who had suddenly gone quiet at the sight of all of his relatives and family friends

“Jaeminie! Is that you?” Out of nowhere, an older boy approaches your small group on the way to the main ceremony area. Jaemin motions for you all to go ahead of him, “Wait! Who’s this? Your girlfriend?” Before you could leave Jaemin’s side to follow the other three, the curious look Jaemin’s relatives had been giving you stopped you in your tracks. He was talking about you.

Jaemin abruptly chokes on air, brows raising in a slight panic. His attention shoots towards you, eyes wide at the assumption, “Oh! Nononono, this is my–uh–really good friend, Y/N!” He laughs awkwardly and turns back to his relative. Did you notice the way his ears turned red?

You would be lying if you said that that hurt a bit, but it was true. You nodded, “Nice to meet you!”

“Y/N this is my cousin, Youngbin,” Jaemin introduces, “Well, Youngbin, nice talking to you, but we really need to get to our seats before they’re gone.”

“No problem,” he smiles, “My mom’s holding my seat, I just had to go find something.” Jaemin nods before maneuvering you towards the actual ceremony area, leaving Youngbin without hesitation.

“I’m sorry about that,” he mumbles, “He’s always been really blunt and stuff.” You two spot the others sitting closer to the front but still in the middle seats.

“It’s okay, Jae,” you say, “It happens.”

Jaemin could only respond with a smile before you both were settled in a spot together between Donghyuck and Jisung.

“You two look cute~” Donghyuck whispers into Jaemin’s ear. There was a hint of a joking tone lining his words, yet Jaemin could sense he was serious.

“Hyuck, shut up,” he whispers back, poking his thigh, “My cousin already mistook her as my girlfriend and she looked offended.” The guests were quickly getting settled, meaning that the ceremony was about to begin.

“You do look like a couple, though, not gonna lie,” Donghyuck shrugs and shifts away into Mark’s side before Jaemin could even attempt subtly poking at him again.

“Yeah, whatever,” Jaemin mumbles. I wish.

The ceremony soon begins, shutting up any ongoing. conversation within the room. Everything went as planned. It was just like they were in movies or shows or books. The groom’s reaction to the bride’s entrance was your favourite part; the reactions of the guests to the bride was a beautiful experience too.

Throughout the entire ceremony, you couldn’t help picture how your wedding would be like or how you would want it. Yes, it was somewhat selfish thinking about yourself during the joyous occasion of another, but there was no stopping your active mind, especially since you were currently attending a wedding.

Would it be better for there to be many guests or only limited to close family and friends? What about the colours? A theme? Which of your friends would you choose as the maid of honour? Where would want it to be?

You let your thoughts run free while miraculously still paying attention to the emotional ceremony. At one point during the vows, you felt a tear threaten to fall, but you sucked it back in.

If someone had been able to read your mind, they were probably drowning in countless of your questions to yourself. It was then the final question had somehow overshadowed the previous ones.

At that moment, the minister spoke with his chest, “You may now kiss the bride!

Watching the two newlyweds lean kiss, you feel yourself unconsciously turn your head up to look at Jaemin, who had been completely stuff throughout the wedding.

Who would your groom be?

As the guests all begin to clap for the couple at the front of the room, your eyes settle on Jaemin, heartbeat skyrocketing.

Jaemin was already looking back at you. And little did you know, he was asking himself who his bride would be.

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carcassontheshore · 4 years

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Nana Analysis: How the ambiguous portrayal of Shin and Reira’s relationship tricks us into thinking it’s a love story while it’s undertones tells a cautionary tale.

Disclaimer: Talks about sex, pedoplhiles, prostitution and suicide. None of the topics are too explicit. Viewers under 10 shouldn’t read. But this meta is cautionary. So, minors can read.

First of all, for all the anime watchers here, I am going to limit this meta only upto the anime because I want to warn and I don’t want minors to skip this just so they don’t get spoilers about the manga. This is important, trust me.

This meta is not to attack Ai sensei regarding her writing style. I think her style is beautifully mysterious. Not gonna lie, when I first saw the anime, I thought Shin x Reira was lovely. But I was horribly wrong.

I will mention the inspirations for this meta to properly portray the psychology behind the characters. First comes the book, Lolita. This book is famous for the portrayal of a pedophile’s mindset. In the book/movie, Humbert, the protagonist and pedophile, thinks that Lolita, the young girl and his step-daughter, is in love with him as well as sexually interested in him. The horrifying part is that, we never get to know about the girl’s point of view, how subconsciously or consciously horrified she is. Thus, we get to see the horror story as a love story instead. Humbert has no idea about the girl's thoughts and therefore, he romanticizes everything she does.

The second inspiration is Lana Del Ray’s controversial song of the same name, Lolita. While people think she romanticized pedophilic relationships in the song, I personally think she fills the gap of the book, which is Dolores or Lolita’s point of view. In the song, it is strongly hinted that she is trying to justify her actions. She is trying to make herself think that whatever she and Humbert has is ‘LOVE’. Mark the word ‘trying’. That’s how our brain works. It tricks us into thinking a certain way so that our conscience and body can survive. Most of the time, this way of thinking is produced through subliminal messages sent from our subconscious mind.

Let me include a personal experience in the brackets, skip if you want to. (I don’t consider myself as a sexual abuse victim. But I will try to portray my mindset about my experiences as an early bloomer to make you understand better. When I was 10, I already had a rather mature body, like a woman. But somehow, it was always obvious that I was a child. But that didn’t stop men from harassing me or seniors from showing interest in me. It disturbed me so much that sometimes, I wished to die. However, by the time I was 11, I had convinced myself that it was normal for a girl ‘like me’ to face that. When my conscience got the best of me, I blamed my body. But idk what I meant by a girl ‘like me’. Maybe I thought of myself as mature or dirty. But whatever I thought, it prevented me from dying or killing myself. This is what Dolores tries to do.)

MAIN META STARTS HERE:

Shin is a prostitute who was very much deprived of love as a child. He is only 15. Ryoko got him into prostitution. He is hinted to search for love through sex. It’s complicated. He doesn’t think of sex as anything but a game or business. For him, he gets in bed only after being paid and he can get others in bed if he pays. But his way of proposing to Reira was as messed up. He thought it was true love just because money wasn’t involved. On the other hand, while explaining to Nobu why he continued being a prostitute, he hinted that he wanted to help lonely women to cope. It is to be noticed that Shin talks in a rather philosophical way almost all the time. While it is beautiful to us, it’s a way for him to convince himself that the things he does are justified. If you notice, he was trying to convince himself that he wanted to help those women. The same can be noticed in the car scene with Reira. He said, “What a teenager boy like me wants is not very different from what we already do (sex)”. Same as before, he was trying to convince himself that since he was a teenager, he wanted sex. It is obvious that he wasn’t sure cuz otherwise, he would have stated what he, as an individual, wanted. It is to be noticed that this happens after Reira refuses to talk to him about her situation and problems. Shin clearly stated that ‘he’ wanted to talk to her wholeheartedly. This is something he said in first person unlike the other sentence. Shin think he is in love with Reira which could be true but that isn’t the problem. The problem is all the things he does to cope with reality. His true feeling are rather a mystery considering his point of view is always indirect that is written in such a way that it makes us feel that what he says, he feels as well. Just like the song, Lolita.

Now, let us come to Reira’s point of view. It is to be noticed that she indeed had problems with Shin and her age gaps, 7 years, and Shin being a minor. This is expressed in the car scene as well. However, she mistook their age gap being 8 years until Shin corrects her. She, through Shin’s words, tries to justify this. She basically thought to herself that it’s almost ok to be in this relationship since it is 1 year less than what she initially thought. (This is something everyone does regarding any matter that includes numbers). Even she tries to convince herself that she loves Shin. Because she is unable to absorb the fact that Shin is just a replacement for Takumi. She knows this. Because she, herself, wasn’t ok with being a discardable person at first. ( The manga takes a different route. She is ok with being unimportant later on unlike anime.) On the other hand, in the car scene, she was ok with doing it with Shin cuz she didn’t knew what Shin was thinking. Just like Humbert in the book where he doesn’t know what Dolores is thinking. Both of them think that the minors are enjoying the time as much as they are. While both of the minors try to convince themselves that what they are doing are normal for people ‘like them’.

This is it. Even though unlike Humbert, Reira had a moral compass, this doesn’t justify anything at all. Just like, just because Shin is a prostitute, unlike Dolores, it neither justifies his actions nor does it make him any less of a victim.

#nana #nana anime #shinichi okazaki #reira #meta #lolita #nana osaki #takumi #hachiko

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paraclete0407 · 3 years

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Unwritten Poems, Errata, Desiderata

‘The Intense Reality of a Bowl of Soup’ - it was traditional Korean fishcake-soup that everyone knows or knew I like a kind of ‘everlasting lucence.’ I have compressed and combined / mixed episodes mentally; the man’s wife was knitting.

I associated this woman with ‘Who Knows Where the Time Goes’ but that is not how people really are today, here or there. More like the last ‘nosegay’ of songs on ‘Feeling Strangely Fine’ but that is also ‘mandatorily retired.’

‘Do you want to borrow my vacuum-cleaner?’

People have forms and processes and sometimes their seem seems the end of their be (Trumpism?) but others are hidden, dying to the world or dead to the world. You know what their face could be but you envision moments and actions / activity-suites instead of frozen statuesque ‘portraiture’ I remember that my favorite poem in that year abroad was a ‘parable of professionalism’ called ‘A Pastoral Nun’ by Wallace Stevens who valedictory line was ‘Each matters only in that which it conceives.’

‘The high apartment-window lights at midnight; Glenn Gould op. 111 like fanning through the pages of the Arietta as though to say, “yeah yeah but this too is old and Beethoven is known and I have my own idea, or music or, “Idea of North” and I’m giving you [tidbits according to my Belgian ex-friend] but a “soupcon” of what I’ve already though through and - pace “Chinese way of war / lie-fare+ / sex-/pornography-fare / motherly-sisterly-motivate-you-dept.-of-future-cannibalization-/Orphic-sparagmos [Gr. tearing or ripping apart]-/hog-farming-fare & I decided that I don’t really know whether or not I believe you’re worthy of being taught in a clear personal voice.”

‘And in those years I was telling other people to be better than me & I was plagiarizing or ‘ammo-running-forward’ advice and “idea-sentiment-vision-bullets” which I felt were lessons others could apply I could not, as I was only ever a image of the things or characters I wished I could be.

‘My’ professor WC Dowling wrote an op-ed about university athletics and concerning the lives and ultimately souls of [now capital] Black boys stating that the powers that be ought to look with more love and affection and concern on the little fellows at the library rather than the future LeBrons + I told my Great Recession-barely-employed internet-friend that if he couldn’t get a job with JET since they were anti-SEA-racist and he’s profoundly dark-skinned he could at least work on studying for the JLPT at the library rather than moping at home. In the end he was more driven and was ‘better ground for the seed / word’ than I might’ve assumed and after acing the JLPT got a job not only in JP but in ‘immortal Kyoto’ with the deer-park. So he learned how to knock.

Dowling was the protagonist of a really retarded pozzed novel about academic / intellectual rebellion but from what I gather Rutgers has gotten a lot better in numerous respects and mended and more completely ‘realized the realizacion’ of programs such as Korean translation that were only fritterings in my time.

‘I’m gonna work on Wall Street and take cocaine and give my parents a lot of money then blow my brains out; I like to drink vodka; I like a warm shower and cold bathroom tiles.’ IDK why in past I would stay up all night watching over some people - whom I ‘wanted’ - whilst the rest of the world was burning; or at least, was literally full of war and death and anti-life behaviors and attitudes and, but at the same time, people who were really looking for life and love and to find ‘soul-friends.’

‘A gaggle of night-shifters... smoking nurses...’

The US general who to my reckoning was most responsible for the operation to capitally punish bin Laden wrote to his wife, ‘When I see the overfed greed of [America], people desperate to be led...’ All this time there was a potential culture of life, people in ‘my’ generation and Gen-Z were not grandiose, megalomaniacal, exorbitant, nor did we look backward like the current US president to say things like, ‘One of my heroes was MLK, the Vietnam War sth sth,’ which right ow just prompts me to think how many Vietnamese families were - pace Kim Thuy - destroyed by communism + how many Black families were damaged by merciless drug-laws as well as expending huge amounts of government treasure on prisons that (to me as a 1990′s Richard Holbrooke+ fan-boy) could’ve gone to Education, State, or for that matter the part of the military responsible for protecting billions of people against China instead of tens of thousands or hundreds of thousands or millions against criminals.

Puts in mind of the Canadian ‘Christian platonist’ literary critic, ‘If murder were an actual threat to civilization like war it wouldn’t be so relaxing to read about.’ I thought this was great but IDK why in retrospect I didn’t realize that a) murder’s a threat to the Lord and all that is and vice-versa necessitates a super-massive counter-threat or automatic counter-consequence and b) people DO read military fiction about genocide, omnicide, retired SEAL’s with bunkers, etc. to relax.

Anyway why is Canada libertarian, why do they host PornHub and HushMail, why are they so seemingly anti-immigrant and why do they think that N. American Anglo-French-etc. civilization is the ultra-adult of the world today while Korea is a child-race and child-civilization that didn’t even figure out stuff like that people have an inner life you can never really penetrate or surveil (that I think) but there are still very legitimate reasons to delimit privacy.

Everyone was working on a potential life but it’s like Andre Maurois’ ‘Climates’ where the guy is haunted by his first wife - ‘the saddest river’ - and didn’t realize his second wife is an utter diamond who is determined to be sth better than ‘happy all the time’ and he’s still just looking for s1 with whom to digest the first wife - stupid, pozzed, not only b/c you can’t really excrete all your remembrances but b’c it was more ‘book-group in Babylon and watching your next-door neighbor’s home turn in to “human smoke” on your big-screen in Nero’s firestorm.’

MY last novel that I wanted to hold and hone while eating lemon-soup as ‘Lily and Flicker’ and General of the Army George Catlett Marshall and his second wife b/c I wanted to understand how this man could seemingly hold everything and everyone all the time without getting angry. ‘Flicker’ was a derogatory nickname from his elder brother who appears largely forgotten by history whereas ‘GCM5-star,’ with innumerable titles and honors, is haunting the whole world today along with St. Augustine Bishop of Hippo, expositor of the ‘fearful symmetries’ and also differences beteen Heaven and Earth, advisor to the Roman general Belisarius... and to [’just me’], Pope St. John Paul II of ‘Human Life’ / ‘Humana Vitae.’

What is it about smallness and greatness?

‘The Millennial was unable to hold the adult version of themselves upright with the proper intensity, address [noun] or readiness to answer others [Colossians 4:6].’ But I don’t at to be Choire Sicha writing future history or w/e when I sincerely look around Milwaukee, Fox Point, Germantown and feel this was all a huge industrial rabbit-farm kill-zone and they are gonna launch a neutron-or Black Death-mounted DF-26 all over here, wipe out Caucasians and take the water and good soil.

‘St Germain Dream’ was meant to be my ‘Hyper-Lolita’ talking about how a) it’s useless and stupid to hide the truth in fiction or art when you can say what it is [child-rape, death, human trafficking, Hell / Inferno] only the love-affair is not mutual sex-trafficking or the Millennialistic attitude that said, ‘If I have to get fattened for slaughter and sexually enslaved by Boomers I want at least to get obese on my own terms and raped for free once in my life,’ but an affirmation that people were and are capable of ‘dwelling in understanding.’

But ‘in the end they just stopped talking about themselves.’ & I didn’t realize how much somebody who might once have admired or looked to me would become the cynosure my own admiration or that I would be slightly intimidated by a ‘wifely smile.’

‘Mr. David James Johnston would take off after hours and drive the Ferrari around the reservoir with his “Super Junior Heechul outfit.” He didn’t have ay money for a Ferrari and Ferrari’s weren’t really the best cars anymore(?) but they liked to watch him drive.

I used to dream of somebody advocating for me like, ‘He is a future billionaire,’ but the love of whose severity and gravity and conviction I fantasized was not passionately dramatic in the accustomed ‘K-wave-emotional-hedonism-sadism-sensationalistic-moneyshot-meltdown-cadenza’ fashion. I came to feel recently that love was about giving someone a chance, a job, a responsibility, another to love, or to tell them that in future simply they would be the one giving love.

Many years ago my Xanga friend-of-friend said, a) ‘I am sad my Chinese aunt is anti-gym’ and b) ‘I am always thinking about personal responsibilities but not sure I can HOLD ANOTHER’S LIFE IN MY HAND.’ They were always thinking about their future whilst trying to be part of the present.

I told my old friend that I wish he could eventually reconcile with their ex-spouse but for all I know his attitude toward me, Millennial-ness, Covid, whoever or whatever blew up America and why, was all this ‘Parting Glass’ lumpen-Proustian view that mistook human character in this world (total depravity or existence ‘conditioned’ in Hegelian sense by Augustinian Original Sin), for the immutable ‘way of the world’ and thought nothing essentially would ever change only and simply b/c specific individuals could or would repeat their mistakes. This person always jokes about ephebophilia or ‘youth-o-phagia’ (eating the young); ‘casting couch’ culture. How often do you have to be sophisticated in the same way before it no longer makes you special?

I wish I were in he Vatican right now or a secret church in NK or wherever Francis Chan is doing what I can and somehow reading all the misreading and anti-reading that is everywhere amid the ‘Delta summer deliberate mishearing Milwaukee CultRev torch-parade.’

I used to love a song called ‘In Yr Room’ by Airiel which my friend might’ve classed as ‘shoegaze’ but is really ‘floor-gaze’ or just ‘gaze, contemplate.’ Shoegaze has effects and is whimsical, seems to use rubato, ‘In Yr Room’ is totally flatlining or ‘solid’ or ‘linear.’ It is ‘skin and blood, permeation, abiding / constancy.’ It is also like the question ‘why’ or ‘why should _ _.’ ‘I always try to keep me _ _ from _ _ besides, I still.’

When I was being a real brat and making Zhuangzi-inspired notebook-fictions in which the Millennial narrator kept going back to their ‘proud tower’ to start another essay-bomb before resuming the living narrative I made a fictious book called ‘The Collected Sayings of Park Chunghee [the military dictator and supreme head or so a supreme council for reconstruction who might or might not have been the most important single decision-making individual in causing Korea to become basically a superpower in one generation]’ that they only give to Koreans and he talked a lot about floors.

‘The Bunny Style Incident’ of or two which this had bee meant as a decoration or crown of sorts was meant to be attack on kultur / art / expressive freedom / beauty itself [again be with me St Aurelius Augustinius, lord of Redaction, censorship, expurgation, curriculum], an early attack on K-wave, derived from an observation of Plato that Tragedy should be banned from the Republic since people went to the tragedy and came out mad, suddenly remembering ever bad thing that is and wanting to attack everyone / wage ‘private war / me global offensive.’

The main character isn’t sure what to do and has wrongheadedly discarded his accustomed method of looking for love so he has a tiny sip of beer and listens to ‘Bunny Style’ by T-ara, goes to a hostess-bar I made up called ‘L’Arabie’ that is a reference to Joyce as well as quasi-Jungian ‘shared imagination’ of our time which is mutatis mutandis polyamory or ‘real life harem anime / fanfic.’ A guy there named ‘Mickey’ is like ‘I manage Dunkin Donuts in Gangnam and I know you’re good at talking with women so you can talk w/ this hostess for me?’

The main character does it for while on the grounds of ‘teaching / assisting others’ loves’ until Mickey starts patently ‘simping’ or saying noble knightly stuff he clearly has no plan of following through on. IRL I walked out on this person when they went to the BR but in ‘Bunny Style Incident’ I accidentally took any amount of drink whatsoever, through a thin-wristed punch in an attempt to ‘teach to touch’ and got internal organ damage due to Mickey’s simplicity of character, singleness of heart / focus, childhood taekwondo, ROKA practical martial arts / CQC drill et cetera nd the act that he wasn’t trying to ‘educate’ anyone about anything but literally just wanted to have some kind of ‘relations’ or ‘good time’ and perhaps not even sexual or ‘amatory’ with this young woman but just wanted smeone to say something to like, ‘b/c of you I will believe in God, make a compact / promise / vow / faith-wish.’ But myself was like, ‘Dude you’re simping and you’re being tempted too to act more than you are & I don’t want to edit what you’re drafting or translate your intentions.’ But in the end my reactive anger, rage, pride, was very imaginably worse than this person’s singleminded desire and ‘working oneself up.’

But that’s all before Covid too and I still feel like I see kids at the Public Market witnessing the produce of this bountiful land but why don’t you go home to your prayer-closet b/c right now it’s what Eric Fiegl-Ding s calling the ‘summer-winter’ of peril’ and that’s exactly what it is.

Years ago I wanted to write a retarded psychopathic story called ‘Winter and Summer’ about a Confucian scholar accompanying the maniacal democidal NYTimes Business Pages darling Xiang Yu, a demonic ‘bawang’ or hegemonic warlord of China who partied on his last day by slaughtering civilians and in the end is said by SIma Qian Grand Historian to have self-decapitated (dept. of culture of achievement)... but it’s all here and the mental Khanate, the self-appointed punishers of Mankind, mental Xiang Yu’s, mental B-52′s, ppl that think perforating masseuses with AR-15′s is motivated from treatable basically honorable struggle with sex-addiction in a culture that wanted to make E.Asian women in general and K-women ultra-acutely into sex-slaves or [AsianFanfics /4chan lexicon... are waiting it seems to me for night, death, and the Devil to fall over the Midwest but I feel as if they don’t really get how bad it could be or how many ghosts and shadows would be left over due to the fact that it was regarded as life-affirming not to change one’s mind.

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rosecorcoranwrites · 7 years

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Why it’s not okay to be okay with punching Nazis: PART 1 - Mob Mentality

This is another non-writing, semi-political post, so I’m going to put it behind a read-more. Peruse if you wish, skip if you wish. If you respond, please be civil.

I’ve been seeing a bunch of stuff floating around Tumblr about how it should be, or is, okay to punch Nazis, and that anyone who thinks otherwise is basically the same as a Nazi sympathizer. Well, I’m here to get on my soapbox and tell you, no. No, it isn’t. You can’t punch a person for holding a certain ideology, and what’s truly horrifying about this is that I’ve seen people say it’s okay to punch Nazis, and in the next breath say how much they care about free speech. It’s okay to punch Nazis, but love trumps hate.

I’ve been trying to collect my thoughts on all this for a while, but there is just so much wrong with this attitude that it’s been hard for me to put it into words. I shall endeavor with 3 posts (I’ll link to them all once I post them).

1) Mob mentality, or “Who’s a Nazi?”: There was some truly horrifying footage recently of a mob chasing down some guy, and the particular person filming, states, “I don’t know. I guess that guy’s a Nazi or something?” and “He said he wanted to build a wall.” He continues running with the mob, and eventually finding that the guy has been knocked to the ground. This brought to my mind a news story from last year where a man was literally beaten to death by a mob in a train station because the mob—not the police or a court, but a mob—mistook him for a wanted criminal. They didn’t apprehend him, they didn’t fire a single life-ending bullet, they piled on and literally kicked and punched another human being to death before realizing that it was just some innocent dude. What’s to stop that happening to a “Nazi”, or, you know, some guy who a crowd is chasing after who, like, might be a Nazi? There’s a reason why mob mentality is so horrifying, and that’s because as an individual, you might stop and think, “Is this guy who I think he is? And if he is, is it okay to punch him?” but as a mob you think, “Well, everyone’s saying that guys a Nazi, and everyone knows Nazis are ok to punch, so why not?” The Mob not only tells you who is okay to punch, but can identify such people for you so you don’t have to think about it.

Maybe this guy was a Nazi? How can we tell? Well, the people beating the guy and stealing his car were not saying he was a Nazi, they said “Don’t vote Trump” (maybe he had a bumper sticker? IDK), but I’ve seen enough posts about how Trump voters are basically the same as Nazis, at least the same as those Germans who voted for Nazis, so I don’t see why we can’t also punch them (after all, the Nazis wouldn’t have been able to perform the Holocaust if they hadn’t been voted into power, right?). The Mob has decided that Trump is Literally HitlerTM, so aren’t his supporters, and not just the alt-right ones, Literally Nazis?

Now I know that we’ve seen the opposite thing happening as well. Just yesterday, a little old Korean lady was punched by a white woman shouting either “power is power” or “white power” and many racial slurs. There are crimes like this performed by racists all the time. Of course, there were also other attacks on Trump supporters throughout the election. It’s almost like “it’s okay to punch other races” and “it’s okay to punch those with other ideologies” stem from the same mentality: Us vs Them. Heck, remember the Knockout Game that was happening a couple years ago, where teenagers would punch (and sometimes kill by punching) random passersby? That was also the “us” of teenagers against the “them” of, well, anyone they didn’t particularly care about.

Us vs Them can be tribalistic, caring only about the small group of “us”, whom we have moral responsibilities too, and anyone not in the tribe is fair game. This was seen in many ancient societies, as well as in the racism of American yesteryear, where the “tribe” of Anglos (who were and still are in the minority) could pretty much do whatever they pleased to non-Anglos, whether it was enslaving and raping black people, forcing Natives from their land, treating Asians and the Irish as fodder for dangerous projects, or barring Eastern and Southern Europeans from the country. Nowadays, tribalism can be seen in the average gang member, who thinks it’s fine to shoot up his warring gang’s territory, and if a lady and her baby get caught in the crossfire and die, well, no big deal. It’s not like they were one of “us”.

On the flip side, sometimes the “us” is the majority, against a very small “them”. The “Us” decides that the “them” is not only different, but dangerous and/or disposable. Back in the day, this was how you rooted out dangerous religious ideologies, like Christians in Rome, who were clearly a bunch of anarchists. This type of thinking is what causes gay bashing nowadays, and the destruction of Muslim property after any given terrorist attack. It’s what caused (and revoltingly still causes) eugenics. But it also, arguably, was the same thinking present in witch-hunts, which were often used to brand whoever was unpopular at the time as a witch: the landlady you didn’t like, a Catholic (who prayed in Latin; clearly Satanic!), some woman who had a bunch of kids when you have none.

And it is in witch hunts where I think Us vs Them is the most terrifying. Here’s what happened in Salem: a bunch of teenage girls, for whatever reason, decided that it was okay to accuse men and women of being witches. And as everyone knew, it was okay to hang witches! We all know that Nazism is truly a dangerous and disgusting ideology, but we must admit that selling one’s soul to the devil and breaking taboos to gain power over others (which is what everyone understood witchcraft to be in the days of Salem) would also be quite dangerous and disgusting. If someone really could curse you, we would probably have laws for that and, dare I say it, you could argue self-defense for punching a witch who was about to send her specter at you. But… there aren’t any witches as such, so… what happened?

Mob mentality happened. The Mob, the “us” decides who is a witch, or a Nazi, or a communist. They decide who is “them”, and members of the mob consent that yes, it is okay to hurt “them”, because they aren’t “us”. And if occasionally innocent people are swept up in the fray, well, it’s not “my” fault, “I” wouldn’t do that. But when “I” becomes “us”, you end up in a group of people, running down the street and chasing a guy because “I don’t know. I guess that guy’s a Nazi or something?”

Part 2: Unpopular Ideologies Part 3: Free Speech

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tomvicious · 5 years

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Golf cart in the mud

I woke up from a lucid dream and I was pretty random. The night started with driving my sister's golfcart/small car to Jessica place. I remember the plastic floor panels as if it were a new car. I pulled over to either figure out where I was or find a place to eat idk. When I got ready to leave I took a turn and realized I had over shot it. The small car rolled backwards down a path and stopped in a lake with a sploosh. O felt muddy water fill the bottom and just sat there in disbelief.. I got out of the cart grabbed my back pack and noticed it was wet. I had my work laptop in there so I feared the worst.

I called 911 but there was an issue hearing them. O then called 411 and talked to a person about the problem and asked who I was supposed to call. After that I was actually able to put aside my self potty and pull the cart up the land. I vivdly remember the shame, the sadness and realization I would have to tell me sister. I tried the engine and heard it try and turn over. I watched some water gurgle out of the Pistons or whatever and after a few tries it worked.

Instead of going the rest of the way to Jessicas I went home. I told my sister I had just fell in a lake and I felt bad for possibly ruining her new cart. She said it was about 450 and wasn't too worried.

Later I crawled into bed and didn't take a shower. I rubbed my feet together loosening the crusty mud from my feet. I thought why didn't I take a shower. And o well I'll just clean my sheets.

I woke up the next day and had an event to go to. It was a fallfest type thing. Little did I know it was right by where I feel in the lake. I told a couple people and went on w my day. There was a track meet. My brother and I were going to complete as well as Chris Hoffman. I asked my friend Tyler who had his arm around this girl o like. Not sure what that was about. But I mistook his arm for hers as I handed my phone to him and asked if he could hold it while I ran. I felt my legs were heavy and this wasn't going to go well but whatever.

As I stretched I hear the girl I like say loudly. Turtles! I like turtles so this made me smile. I realized she was looking thru my phone and didn't know how to react. I didn't like how my shoes fit superstitiouly so I went down totie them. The group had already run a wam up lap and was ready to begin the race. Fuck I thought. I jumped up e my half tied left shoe and jpid the group as the first runner took off. I realized quickly that this was just the worst so I dropped out. I rejoined my friend and my crush to get my phone. I explained I had just beem in a lake, my shoe was untied and I just couldn't right now.

I looked back at the race and my bro had beaten Chris Hoffman. This was surprising since he's a better athlete and still runs today. After the match the girl I like had to make some kind of an announcement like it was her birthday or something. I realized I was close to where I fell in the lake. Strangly I went down a wooden pen into what was like a Mudd er under a farm house. I remembered there was an egg ther? Maybe it fell idk. I got the egg and it was warm. I felt the texture of it. The size was larger than most eggs I thought

I also noticed there was not nasty mud smell at the lake or under this shed. When I picked up the egg I noticed a foamy white good coming out. Shit it's broken I thought. I climbed out and gave the egg to her and apologized so it breaking. It then hatched. She was over joyed and almost cried. She then asked if the rest of the egg would hatch. I then woke up. I remember he black and white shirt. The white was a rectangle on the sleeve. Her face is pretty and she lit up w joy over holding the new born animal.

Such a wired dream idk what to make of it but that all I can remember. I think I'll try the dragon software to put these down because I skip over some parts for the sake of typing out all the nuanced emotions and things o noticed.

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