#just thursday the 20th twice a year and then nothing...
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Homesick recordings
This is the first part of my 1.5K celebration. I present to you the sequel to “Moments in the life of Y/N L/N”, the angstiest piece of trash I’ve ever written. Thank you 1.5 K guys it means a lot, thank you for being here and reading my crap writing and thank you for supporting my blog. Love ya 💖💖💖
masterlist II rules
When Y/N learns that her little girl is gonna leave for high school she suggests she tries recording herself when she’s feeling homesick. Sky believes that she won’t need it but as time passes she realizes that she might need her mom more than expected.
Monday, April 4th 20XX
“Okay so how do I do this exactly? *camera falls from its spot* Ah crap crap Jesus! Is it still working? Yep yep it is there’s my ugly face hehe. God why is my hair like that? Anyways um…. Hi, I guess? Do you say hi to a recording? This is weird to say the least. Today was the first day of school as you might have guessed and it was ….awkward. I got lost in that huge building twice and I ignored some kids by accident because they called me by my last name! I’m used to people referring to you when they say our last name ugh this is gonna take some time getting used to. The teacher is ....unique. He came into our classroom in a yellow sleeping bag and proceeded to worm around the room like a caterpillar. I don’t think he is the really giddy giddy fun teacher; he wrecked us during training. Gave us a freaking heart attack with a so called prank he pulled. *exasperated sigh* Who says that you’ll be expelled if you score last?? I don’t get it!! His name is Aizawa-sensei and I already believe he doesn’t like me. He stared at me for a solid five minutes with a frown on his face during training. If I’m being honest he was watching me the whole day which is kinda weird. I don’t know how to take that. Is he interested in my quirk or is he asking himself why they put me in his class? I can hear his voice saying ‘why do they keep sending me imbeciles?’. Well mister you can’t get rid of me now I got in and I’m staying! HA! *bang on the wall* YO SKY KID KEEP IT DOWN MAN! SORRY TOYOMI-SAN…..That was one of my roommates….She is a social worker I think. Oh I almost forgot, the apartment I found is nice. It deserves its price I mean. But you already know that since I called you once I got back from school…. See why this is stupid??? I’ll keep telling you things you already know because I have Alzheimer and I don’t remember what you know. *sigh* Oh well I guess you’ll have to endure this torture, you are my mother after all and I’m your precious only daughter so what can you do really? I finished my costume design. It turned out pretty cool, I like it. The jacket you suggested makes it ten times better. I look like a pilot. Well technically I am a pilot. I pilot clouds and now that you’re not here to scold me when I’m flying around I’ll take full advantage of it. You can’t stop me mother! Anyways, it’s getting late and I have school tomorrow so I’ll end this here. I don’t know when I’ll record next…. Most likely when I’m feeling home sick again. Haha it's the first day away from home and I’m already missing you and those two idiots. *soft snort* Goodnight mom, love you.” *recording ends*.
Wednesday, April 27th 20XX
“Hello again, it’s me, your neighborhood cripple. *wince* You could say I’m a sight for sore eyes because I’m sore all over. You’ve seen the attack on the news. Of course you have, everyone’s shaming UA high for lack of security. Why you haven’t called me yet is a mystery, I guess you’re at work? And before you start throwing a tantrum about me not calling first and blah blah, I wanted to record this first, let you see the actual injuries before I minimize them when I call you. *stares off* Something weird happened during the attack. Apart from the fact that well we were attacked and our homeroom teacher was almost beaten into a pulp, the villains were ….. interesting. When they first appeared I was teleported by this minecraft portal looking ass to another part of the USJ and to be honest I kicked some serious ass. That *wince* that was not the weird thing. While I was fighting I saw Aizawa-sensei facing some type of giant ostrich? Although that that thing wasn’t an ostrich…. I don’t know what it was but mom it was terrifying. *visible shiver* It just grabbed him and mopped the floor with him and I just couldn’t sit there and do nothing. So I went to help or at least that was my goal. That person who teleported me at the beginning tried to do it again and I may have snapped a little bit. I got so angry when he moved me to the other side of the arena that for a moment I totally forgot about what was happening. While I was fighting him his quirk kinda connected with mine. It was strange. Every time I shot a cloud at him the mist that surrounded him kinda engulfed it. It wasn’t only happening to me. I could manipulate his mist. Not every time just like he couldn’t sabotage my clouds every time, but it still happened. I don’t know why it happened or how it happened and I have no idea what I’m gonna do about it. Maybe it was part of his quirk but it didn’t happen to anyone else…..*wince* God I have a headache. *chuckle* You do realize you are never going to see these videos right? Seeing me like this would send you into a comma and then you would come back to haunt me and my classmates. Anyways, I’ll call you and then I’m going to sleep. Love ya mom.” *recording ends*
Tuesday, June 3rd 20XX
“*walking back and forth in her room* You know how I said that Bakugou is a really fun person to tease? Well that was before he exposed me to the whole class.*laugh* In reality I’m not really mad, it was a nice comeback and if I’m being honest it was hilarious but it was still a shocker. We were going back and forth with that tik tok challenge where you expose your friend’s flaws. So I was standing there pointing out his superiority complex when he dropped the bomb…… ‘It’s the daddy issues for me’......THIS KID. THE AUDACITY. I thought my daddy issues were kept on the down low!!! I’ve done nothing to trigger this comment!! Sure I may or may not have told Mina that you raised me alone and about that counselor incident but that doesn’t mean I have daddy issues. *grumble* You need to have a dad to have daddy issues. Ughh God I hate him sometimes so very much. Thankfully the summer camp is tomorrow. I’ll get to wipe the floor with him in volleyball. I’m gonna draw those anger issues out…. I need some air. *three hours later* I’m back… yay. It’s weird to think about it you know. What you must have gone through when he passed. I know you don’t really like talking about him or anything before I came along but I would love to know what he was like. I’m not gonna ask you in real life of course, I would never do that to you. I know it hurts. I just wanted to say it out loud…*barely audible sniffle* … Well this got sentimental real quick. I think I should go to bed. I love you mom, goodnight.” *recording ends*
Friday, March 14th 20XX
“Of all the things that could’ve happened, this one was the last one on my list. Actually it wasn’t even on the freaking list, dammit! *sniffle* You know things like this don’t happen to everyone. I must be a really lucky person. Tell me one other person who gets to meet their dead parent in a high surveillance prison?? And above that I got an explanation why he was like this. Amazing right? God this is so stupid! I hate it. I hate this situation, I hate that I can’t tell you about it, I hate keeping you in the dark because at the end of the day I’m not the one who was in love with him. He may be my dad but I don’t have a connection with him! I never met him! He wasn’t there when I started walking or talking, he wasn’t the one who dropped me off on the first day of school, he didn’t teach me how to ride a bike, he-he * sob* I shouldn’t-shouldn’t be upset over this. Aizawa-sensei and Present Mic should be the ones sobbing on their floor. Not me. He doesn’t - I don’t- ugh - I don’t mean anything to him in the end. He died 15 years ago. That’s it. He was in love with you, he knew you, I was nowhere to be found. If he could reach out to us more than just a few words he wouldn’t know who the hell I was. *sobs* I have a picture of you two you know….It’s the one I had found when I was five. When you told me that that was my dad I felt like I could form a connection with the person in that photo. So I kept it, you never went through your old photo albums anyway and you never looked for the missing photo. And I kept it with me. I tore a small pocket in my backpack and put the photo there. I thought that having both of you with me at all times would bring me luck. I liked the fact that I looked like him. Now I realize how painful that must have been for you, seeing him in me everyday….and Aizawa-sensei, god, having me in his class must have been torture. He didn’t know that I was his friend’s daughter of course but I looked enough like him to bring back memories. God this sucks…. *deep breathes* I-I have practice so I gotta go. Love you.” *recording ends*
Thursday, March 20th 20XX
“Hi, it’s me again. I know that I’m recording almost a week after the previous one but… mom I have been assigned a mission and it’s major. It’ll be an attack at a hospital where we believe that experiments are being conducted. We got that information from um what do I call him? *shakes head* from a prisoner in Tartarus, the high surveillance prison I was at last week? Yeah that one. The mission will be really dangerous, that’s what we’ve been told and I can understand that. I mean we are attacking a major operation of AFO, of course it’ll be dangerous. Since we are students we are to stay away from the hospital and monitor the surrounding area but…. I asked Present Mic to go with them in the hospital. I can help keep things in place and I can move people in and out quicker than any of them, plus this is personal. I think Present Mic understands that. He said he’ll talk to Aizawa-sensei about it but regardless….. I’ll find who did that to him, I promise you that. I want to know if...if this was all some grand plan because what they did to him they did to dozens other people and as much as I hate them for taking my father away, I also hate them for what they’ve done to all those other families…… I’m recording this because I don’t know if I come back in one piece or if I come back at all. This is very dangerous and we don’t really know what to expect. What we are getting ourselves into. I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for giving me everything that I needed in life. Thank you for being the best mom anyone could ever have. You raised me by pushing your own sadness and grief to the side and doing the best job you could. So thank you for being my mom and I’m sorry for the pain I caused you. I love you mom, so very much. Bye, bye mommy.” *recording ends.*
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I started writing a book.
And I’m mad about it, because I just started this post, brought up a new tab and lost it because I didn’t save my draft.
Anyway. That’s a thing I did. Wow.
As of this moment, this post won’t be going up until April 19th, but I’m starting writing this at 10.30pm on Sunday, February 21st, 2021. I’ve done a lot in the last couple weeks, and I want to have some record of all I’ve accomplished without just letting most of it fade over the next two months.
I’ve always wanted to be an author. From when I was reading under my covers with a torch past bedtime, through the years I wanted to be an artist, through the years I wanted to be a lawyer. It’s always been there - no matter what primary career path I went down, I wanted to be an author. The last few years, I’ve been invested in becoming a biologist, and that dream really took a backseat.
In the start of this lockdown, my mental health went downhill, and some advice my therapist gave me was just to prioritise myself. It sounds simple enough, but, even in my free time, I’d been focusing on schoolwork - revising constantly for exams I’m still not sure are actually happening. (Boris Johnson is apparently making an announcement tomorrow about beginning to ease lockdown, but we’ll see) So, on Saturday, February 6th, I started an attempt to coalesce the ideas I had floating in my head into something tangible.
I’ve tried to write books countless times (not technically countless - I have all the documents on my laptop, so I could if I wanted to), but mostly, I’ve never gotten further than a couple bare plot points and some characters, maybe some ideas for subplots, before I’ve stagnated and given up.
Three times, I’ve finished a skeletal outline. Twice, I’ve started to go back over those outlines only to realise they made no sense or just seemed week, and simply not cared enough to fix it. Until now, I guess.
February 6th, 7th, and fast-forward to my week off beginning the 15th, up until the 19th, I kept developing this concept I’d managed to form, but I was struggling to establish a coherent plot. I had up until and including a midpoint (which was later condensed into just a first act), but everything after that was just a void. I began searching for some skeletal structure I could apply to it, both to work on pacing and fill in the blanks. I tried several, and got a little further, but was about to give up hope.
Then I remembered a video by Katytastic I’d watched years ago about the 3-act, 9-block, 27-chapter structure she used, and couldn’t see the harm in giving it a go. And something clicked.
You can find the video here - the structure’s detailed and easy to follow, plus she even gives an example of using it to generate a plot.
I started binge-watching her writing vlogs in the background, and even started using her same writing program, Scrivener, which just made every a thousand times easier by taking away the need to juggle a billion Word documents. It’s fairly pricey, but I’m currently using the 30-day free trial - it’s 30 days of use, not of ownership, too: if you use it every day, it lasts 30 days, but if you use it once a week, it lasts 30 weeks.
Where Kat used the 27 parts the structure broke down into as chapters, I chose to refer to them as beats, and separate chapters later.
On Saturday the 20th, I finished defining my scenes and started writing an actual draft. I wrote two scenes, putting me at a collective word count (not including notes, synopses, etc.) of 2,580 words.
This morning, Sunday the 21st, I started over. I hated my opening. I’m not going to go through the mess of today’s process, but I currently have around 80 one-line-outline scenes, split into 3 acts. I wrote a draft of my prologue and detailed-outlined (which I’m mentally referring to as zero-outlining because it’s similar to how Katytastic does what she calls a zero draft, but is very much outlining, not a draft) two and a half other chapters. Scriver also tells me how many words I wrote in total, across notes, character profiles, location lists, a document I’ve named ‘Train of Thought’ for my ramblings as I go etc.
Today, I wrote a grand total of 4,141 words, which, rather counterintuitively, puts me at a draft total of 2,598. That makes sense. Anyway.
There are a lot of unknowns in the world right now, and I have no idea how much time I’ll have in the next six months to invest in this project, but I’d like, at bare minimum, to have one complete draft by the start of the next school year in September, which gives me just over 6 months. Which is probably too much time to actually motivate myself, but that’s not the point.
A manuscript needs to have a minimum word count of 50K words to be considered a novel, so, even though my ultimate goal for this project is around 80K words, 50K is going to be my goal for this draft.
I’m being optimistic about sticking with this.
Tuesday 23/02/2021 - Word Count: 3,099
I wrote nothing yesterday; planning to focus writing solely on days off rather than work days, but last night, watching through the incredibly long queue of Alexa Donne writing videos, I came to the conclusion writing every day, even just a little, would be the best way to ensure I keep working on this, so I set myself a goal of just 500 words a day.
Wednesday 24/02/2021 - Word Count: 5,350
After doing a little bit of maths as to how long this outlining and draft would take me if I were to only write 500 words a day, I decided to boost that goal to 1,000. I got started around 1pm today, online school draining me so much I couldn’t face another two hours. I worked on and off until 6pm, and around 4.45pm, I finished outlining Act One!
Thursday 25/02/2021 - Word Count: 7,022
I continued my scene outlining into Act Two, but I hit a brick wall around the midpoint. I have to write chronologically - some people jump around, but I have to write linearly, or it feels like I’m trying to make something in a void. It just doesn’t work. I didn’t know how to get from one scene to the next - there were so many things I needed to establish to get there, but I didn’t want to backtrack. I decided to re-jig the whole thing, but, after dinner, I realised I didn’t have to, and instead, decided to just start a draft, conscious of the things I need to establish as I go.
Friday 26/02/2021 - Word Count: 8,208
Starting draft one, I rewrote the prologue I’d already written, technically putting me to my second draft of it, because I’d been thinking about it for days and just wanted to revisit it, and it was so much better. Then I moved on to chapter one, but decided I wanted to re-jig my chapters. While outlining, I’d split the whole book into only about twenty chapters, but decided to go for shorter ones for more effective divisions of the story. I got most of the way through the first scene of chapter one, but basically ran out of both time and motivation, since I hadn’t heavily outlined that scene. in total, I wrote over 2000 words today, but because I only increased the prologue word count by about 100 words, it didn’t do that much to the total count.
Saturday 27/02/2021 - Word Count: 11,050
I got some chores done Saturday morning and focused on finishing my book so I could include it in my February wrap-up, but I still had time to get some writing done around mid-day. My goal was just to hit 10K this weekend, but I though I could do it in one day. I wrote about 1,000 words before feeling a little word-drained, but took a break for lunch, got back to it and wrote 2,400 words. Though that only added a little over 2,000 to the word count, it took me to 10K! I’m 20% of the way to being able to call it a novel! We’re in quintuple digits!
And then eight hours later, I wrote another thousand words and got to 11K.
Sunday 28/02/2021 - Word Count: 13,722
I spent most of my Sunday morning writing, though it took me more than two hours to write about 1500 words, though it only added about 1100 to my count. I decided to set myself an overall and weekly deadlines to hold myself accountable. Due to the fact I don’t yet have a clue how many words this will work out as, I decided I wanted to have either a complete first draft or 100K words (which I doubt I’ll reach, but it seems like a good way to make myself finish the draft before my deadline) by the end of April. Which works out to a little under 1500 words a day, or just under 11K a week, which is perfectly doable. Bearing in mind my current word count is including outlines, but I still believe in myself.
I wrote another 1600 words later, which took me to 14K, until I deleted the 300 word outline I wrote for one scene, but I worked out my words per day for the next two months with the assumption of a 10K word count as of March 1st and a target of either a complete draft or 100K words by the end of April, so I’m nearly 4,000 words ahead of schedule. Which gives me 6,606 words to write this week, instead of 10,328. (If you couldn’t tell, I like numbers. They just make sense to me.
Monday 01/03/2021 - Word Count: 15,005
I didn’t quite hit my daily goal, but I was completely leached of motivation today, I’m ahead of schedule anyway and I was only under by less than 200 words. It’s alright. But, hey, we hit 15K! Two days after hitting 10K!
Tuesday 02/03/2021 - Word Count: 21,119
This was an insane writing day. My end-of-day target was only 16,480, and that was still ahead of schedule - if I was sticking to the 100K by April 30th, I’d only actually need to be at 12,950 today. This was the best writing day I’ve ever had. I wrote before school and during breaks, which kept both my writing and working momentum up.
I didn’t read a page of my current read, but I wrote a total of 7,681 words and increased my wordcount by 6,114 words, or literally an additional 40.75%. I hit 20K three days after hitting 10K, and am 42.238% of the way to being able to say I wrote a novel, be it a shitty first draft that won’t be complete at 50K words.
I also finished chapter three, which I’ve been working on for three days and came out ~5,000 words, and wrote chapters four and five in their entirety.
Note to self: this is day 10 of vaguely outline-drafting this project.
Wednesday 03/03/2021 - Word Count: 23,364
I've only written 490 words today, as of writing this update, but I just wanted to make note of the fact I've done some calculations, and can reasonably finish my draft this month. I'm still not completely sure how long it'll work out to be, so I can't quite work out my daily words to finish on the 31st, but if I stick to my current 1,475 words a day, I'll hit 63,894 words by the end of the month, which is a little less than I imagine this draft will be, but if I stick to that as a minimum, my first draft won't have to go into April.
I'd like to post this later this week, but I already have a post for this Friday, so God only knows how long this will be by the time it goes up. So far, I've written 1,900 words today, and I don't think I'm out of fuel yet, but I'm stopping because I need to read today, and I'd rather not burn out. I'm over my goal, anyway.
Oh, also, I'm nearly at 25K, which is halfway to a novel, but I haven't broken into Act Two yet, which means this book will be 75K minimum. I'm going to do some maths and work out how many words a day to hit 80K by March 31st. 2,030. That's doable. So I haven't read, but back to writing for like ten minutes.
I've now hit an additional 2,245 words for the day, though I wrote a total of 2,663
Thursday 04/03/2021 - Word Count: 25,415
I've decided to work out how many words I need to write each day to hit 80K by March 31st, and watch the fluctuations. (I like statistics). It should steadily go down throughout the month if I surpass it each day. Today's minimum word count is 2,023, already seven words less than yesterday's. How exciting.
The last scene of Act One was very heavy on world-building I haven't yet figured out, so I stuck what was meant to happen in brackets and just moved on, meaning I have now broken into Act Two!
I think, during the week, I'm going to focus on just meeting my minimum word count rather than exceeding it, just to save fuel for the weekends, when I can write so many more words.
And, we hit 25K! I'm halfway to a novel!
Friday 05/03/2021 - Word Count: 26,693
In complete honesty, I'm beginning to lose momentum. Maybe it's just today, but I don't really want to write and feel like I need a break, but I'm going to make myself write anyway. I'm going to make myself keep writing until this draft is done, however shitty it may end up. I really hate first drafts.
When you say 2,000 words is only 7-8 pages, it doesn't sound like that much to write per day but my god. Luckily, most of the stuff I've had to save to a Pinterest board called 'Writing Motivation' says if you write when you don't want to, it should pass instead of worsening. I wanted to hit 35K this weekend, but I'm not sure I'll have the momentum. I'll at least hit 31,270, though, which is my minimum goal for this week. I'm still over 700 words off my goal for today, but I'm taking a break because my head is foggy and there's still eight hours left in the day. Besides, 700 after dinner is easy. She says, realising she's probably jinxing it. Oh, well. 80K by March 31st would be difficult, even if I weren't going back to school soon, but that's a stretch goal. 100K by April 31st is my minimum, and I'm 9,000 ahead of where I need to be for that.
I think I’m stagnating because I’ve hit the ‘Fun and Games’ section, which I find really boring. I’m going to try to keep going with it, but I may just skip it and come back later.
Saturday 06/03/2021 - Word Count: 28,150
So, I did not get the extra 700 words in. Before dinner, some stuff I had to deal with came up, and by the time it was done, I just wanted to go to bed, so I did. Today, I'm going to try to make up for it, which I think is reasonable because it is now the weekend. I'm still kinda exhausted this morning, but I'm going to do my best, and my wrist hurts, but I'm not sure why. You'd think it would be from all the typing, but only one wrist hurts - you know what? Never mind. They do both hurt. I'm just not sure why, but it doesn't hurt typing this, so that doesn't make any sense. Anyway, to hit my word count for the day, I need to write 2,555 words, which doesn't sound like too much, but it kinda is because I'm primarily writing Act Two at the minute, and for every thousand words I write, I lose like 400 from my outline. You'd think I'd just not include my scene outlines in the word count, but it's too late for that now.
I'm thinking this over, and I really don't think trying to write 80K by the end of the month is going to be good for either my motivation, mental health, or ability to function back at school, so I'm going to stick to 100K or a finished draft by April 30th, and re-work out my goals from there, based on yesterday's word count, so I'm not making myself do catch-up today.
So, to hit 100K by April 30th, I only need to write 1,309 words each day (which will decrease over time because if that's my minimum now, I'll probably surpass it, decreasing the amount of words left etc.). That's so much less pressure.
God, I really don't want to write today. I just want to watch YouTube and Netflix and read.
Okay, so here's the thing. I've been working on this story straight for three weeks and I'm kinda exhausted of it. I'm not done with it, not at all, and I want to keep working on it because it exists, which makes it workable.
I watched a writing vlog by ShaelinWrites yesterday, and she said she writes different projects at once, alternating in week- or multi-week-long blocks. I think I might try that.
My plan with this post and the following updates was to keep updating it until the day it goes up, the day after which is when I begin drafting the next, but, since I may be switching projects for a while and this is really about the project I've decided to dub 'Bay Tree' (which is just, I guess, a pseudonym for here because while I have no idea what it would eventually be called, I know that's nothing like the title I'd want to give it) so I'd want to start a new post for a new project.
I'm now doing a little outlining instead of actually continuing writing, but I think this will help me, though I'm still not certain about whether or not I'm going to directly continue with this specific project for the minute. Instead of setting daily goals based on a target, I'm also just going to say 1,000 words a day, and see where that takes me.
I've just been outlining into Act Three, and I've met a major plot stumble, but I'm going to work that out and explain what I'm doing in my next writing update.
So, go drink some water, eat if you haven't eaten in the last few hours, stand in front of the mirror and tell yourself how wonderful you are and how much happiness you deserve, and, if you want to write a book, stop thinking about it, and go write.
#blog#blogging#blogger#blogpost#blog post#writing#books#book#reading#read#write#writer#author#draft#first draft#story#writing blog#writerblr#bookblr#novel#debut
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Patton’s life:chapter one
Warnings: Bullying, crying, blood, sad Pat, taking photo’s without permission, swearing. anything else let me know!
Word count: 1119
Authors note: So, this was fun. I don’t know how many chapters there will be, but there will be more.
Summary: Patton lives a fairly normal life, he tries his best and always helps others. He’s even giving a presentation about it at school. He’s 15 now, it’s his birthday: Monday, February 10th, 2020.
~.~.~
*Patton stands in front of the school during assembly, frozen. His broken halo floating above his head, and his blue wings curled up around his now trembling body. Tears start falling as people take photos and put them on social media. He’s going to be found.*
Okay, let’s back up a bit. We’ll start three days before.
Patton lives a fairly normal life, he tries his best and always helps others. He’s even giving a presentation about it at school. He’s 15 now, it’s his birthday: Monday, February 10th, 2020. He hums as he walks to school, it’s a fairly good school. The students could be better, but he has some good friends and the teachers are always kind, unless you’re asleep in class or forget homework.
No one actually knows it’s his birthday, so he’s not surprised to see the regular bully approach and push him into a wall. He grabs his head as he leans on the wall, that can’t have been the same amount of power as before. The talking from the bully is muffled as Patton feels himself drop to the floor, everything going black.
He sees a light in the overwhelming darkness. It’s...a person, they’re holding a sword. The darkness takes form, 1, 2, 3 people made of black, inky nothingness. They feel familiar.
Patton's eyes flicker open and he sees a room. “Hey Patton...how are you?” Joan, the school nurse, asks as they help Patton sit up on the bed. “What happened?”
“You were found on the floor, in the hall, passed out.” Patton looks at his hands as he starts to fidget with them. “If you feel well enough, you can go to class.” Joan smiles and helps Patton stand up, even if he doesn’t need the help. Patton grabs his white bag off the floor, and waves goodbye as he walks to class through the halls, past loud classrooms and people skipping class.
Patton opens the door to a quieter room and sits at the front of the class, trying not to distract from the lesson. He sits and takes notes in his blue notebook, littered with animal stickers. He hears the familiar ring of the bell go off and places the book back in his bag. “Excuse me, Mr. Hart?” Patton looks up at the teacher. “We have an assembly in 3 days. You’re going to do the presentation.” Patton nods, not wanting to speak much, and lets his feet guide him to his next class.
The day went by. At the end Patton was forcing himself to smile, not wanting anyone to think anything was wrong. It wasn’t very hard, he did it often and no one ever noticed. So, the school wasn’t as great as I told you, but it was still good. Patton learnt and improved. He knew the school like the back of his hand, and he never wanted to leave.
~.~.~
Patton had figured out and prepared what he was going to do for the assembly over the course of three days. He counted them down, three, two, one. Patton walked into class like any other day.It was Thursday, February 20th, 2020. He sat at the front of the class and got ready for first period. As the teacher arrives Patton sits up and gets ready to learn.
“Hello class, today we’re…” Patton zoned out as the words became fuzzy. He didn’t notice the detention placed in front of him until the bell rang. He stares and it and bangs his head on the desk once, twice, three times before getting up and heading to his next class.
He sat at the front again. He tried to focus but the thoughts of what today meant to him caused him to zone out again. Another detention on Wednesday. He was thankful that it was break now, it gave him time to think about it. Patton looked at his phone, bored. A reminder, for the assembly. ‘Oh no.’
The bell rang, Patton made his way to class. He felt himself bang into a locker. “Not this again…” He didn’t move to get away as the bully moved his hand next to Patton’s head. “Give me the money.”
Patton sighed and dug £5 out his pocket, passing it to him. He learned early on not to put up a fight. “Is that it?”
“That’s the same amount as usual.” Patton looks confused at him. He crumbles to the floor with a broken nose as the bully punches him. He leaves Patton there, snickering. “Thanks for the money loser.”
Patton gets up and heads to the school nurse, covering his bloodied nose. “Hey Joan!” The nurse, Joan as they seem to be called, turned to face Patton. “What happened this time?”
“Tripped down the stairs?” Joan sighs and pats a seat, beconing Patton to sit down. Patton sits down and uncovers his nose, placing his bag on the floor. Joan starts cleaning up the blood. “You need to be more careful..this is the 2nd time you’ve come here this week.”
“I know... I’m trying my best.” Patton closes his eyes and waits. Joan steps away and smiles. “Okay, go to class.” Joan passes a note to Patton, saying why he’s late. Patton waves bye and makes his way to class. At least he has a distraction now.
The bell rings and Patton makes his way to the assembly hall with the other students in his year. He sighs and stands next to the platform, he has to give the assembly today, at least it on something he knows. “Kindness, it can affect so much.”
The boo’s start already, he ignores them. “Mental health is so important and just being kind can help people with bad mental health.”
More shouts and insults, they make Patton flinch slightly yet he continues. They get louder till Patton breaks. “SHUT UP! I’M TRYING OKAY!” Blue wings flash in and out of visibility behind him. “I never told them that you all hurt me! I was kind! I tried, and nothing changed…” The wings start staying there longer as a small broken ring of light flashes above his head. “I’m a good person, I don’t deserve this! I don’t even litter!” The wings, they’re stuck in a fighting stance. The broken light stays above him.
“What the f*ck is that?” People start taking out their phones. Patton looks behind him and sees his wings.
*Patton stands in front of the school during assembly, frozen. His broken halo floating above his head, and his blue wings curled up around his now trembling body. Tears start falling as people take photos and put them on social media. He’s going to be found.*
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Thursday June 20th, 2019
Today was emotional draining. I went to the GYN for my 6 month check up, I’ve seen my dr twice a year for the past 4 1/2 years. Every time normal. Nothing out of the ordinary, a bill of clean health thrusted upon me. But this was not every other visit. Or else I would be here, writing about it. This time my doctor found something unsual. She found a lump that felt like the size of a marble on my left breast. For most people, especially a young/healthy twenty-one year old, a lump is usually nothing to be too concerned with. But my mother had breast cancer five years ago. My doctor reassured me that it was probably just a cist and perscribed a sonogram to check it out and either cornfirm or deny that it was a cist. And she comforted me saying there was “nothing to worry about.” And honestly, I wasn’t too worried. Ever since my mom went through her cancer treatment, I had a gameplan. Because a small part of me had a feeling that I too, would get breast cancer. Granted, I thought I had another 15-20 years tho. So off I went, script in hand out into the pouring rain. Where I called my mother to tell her what had just happened. With concern in her voice, she said that everything will be okay and that we’ll figure this all out when I get home. In the begining of the 40ish minute drive home, it hit me. I had a lump, at least the size of a marble, and it wasn’t there six months ago. “How did I not notice it?” “How did I let it get so big?” “And what if it was cancer?” These were all running through my head 10 minutes into driving. And I went from being fine. To sobbing while driving on the highway. So to try and take my off of it all. I put my radio on max volume and blasted some tunes. It kind of worked, took 15 minutes, but I was finally out of my head. During my sobfest I texted two close friends to see if we could do girls night. Unsure if I would tell them about my appointment. They both say theyd love a girls night, and that theyll be to my house within the next 30 minutes. So I finally pull into my driveway. I go inside and Im met with my mother and my sister. My mom insists on feeling the marble inside me. Which means I have to tell my sister. So we’re all standing in my kitchen, crying. Okay so I’m doing most of the crying; but that’s fine. When my brother in law walks into this mess, discovers what just transpired and embraces me in his arms, telling me that it’ll all work out, and that it’s most likely nothing. So my mom goes on to make the sonogram for Monday June 24th at 1pm. Right after I get out of work. We...I cried some more, mascara running down my face because I cant believe this is real and happening. When I see one of my friends pull up. So I take my makeup off to not show that I’ve been crying for the past hour at this point. It worked. She came in and we watched the episode of Law and Order: Special Victims Unit where a kid whose being abused by his father assaults his friend with a hockey stick. Its actually a really good episode. But towards the end of the episode our other friend gets here and the trio is united once more. We end up watching another episode of SVU, or maybe we watched three. Honestly, I’m not too sure. But one of them showcased the pick up line “What drives you” and we all honestly thought that was hillarious! Next thing I know we’re heading to a park because one of us left out keys there during a hook up. (honestly idk if I phrased that right but I dont care y’all know what I mean). And they took a really cute boomerang of my on a swing. I was having a good time, and I had completely forgtten about my appointment for a few hours. Which I desperately needed. Than we got some food and I ended up telling them about my marble in Sonic. Not my greatest moment, but it was a thing that happened. They embraced me and reassured me that I’d be okay. But my life made a drastic 180° in the span of 2 minutes.
Friday June 21st, 2019
Today I woke up at 5am. It fucking sucked. I think I got 20 minutes of sleep between 7:40 and 8. But after that I was wide awake. I’m honestly still alittle mad about it. But during all that time fucking around on facebook I got a text from my mom asking if I wanted to get the sonogram today. Because honeslty, my mom is a freakin beast and I love her to death. I told her I wouldnt mind, but I had brunch plans at noon so its no big deal. I had an appointment for monday and if I had to wait, than I had to wait. She called me a few hours later at 9:45am saying that a place by her job had an opening at 10:30 and if I wanted it. Obviously I did. So I hopped out of bed, got ready in less than 10 minutes. I looked like a hobo but I was in my car and met my mom at her job by 10:02. She met me in the parking lot and off we went. The four minute car ride was stupidly emotional. But, if it wasn’t I think that would’ve been weirder. We finally arrived at the sonogram place and once inside the room where I get checked by the doctor, she said “I never imangined my first sonogram with one of my children wouldn’t be for a heart beat.” Which really got to me. Not too long after that the somogram woman walked in and begin doing the test. I was not allowed to get any footage or documentation of this process, which actually sucks. But I’ll find a way to get my hands on those files. I mean, its my breast and my masses! (oh they ended up finding more than one mass on my left, and another mass on my right. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves). I cried the entire time she was sonograming my breast. Because now it was real. I couldn’t pretend the marble wasnt there, because I could see it clear as day on the monitor. And it was definitely bigger than a marble. It was the size of a peach pit. Then she said she found another smaller mass on the lower part of my breast. So yay, lumps for us all. The doctor came in and told us that the lumps weren’t cists. But they weren’t cancer either. Turns out my boobs are very fibourous. But theres two kinds of boob fibers. Ones that grow incredibly fast, like cancer but not cancer. And regular ones. Since the marble that is now a peach pit has a different textire than the other ones they found. She recommended a biopsy. So I got dressed and made the appointment for Monday June 24th after I get out of work. Im glad I’m getting this taken care of. And I’m also really glad this is happening now instead of when I’m older and in a relationship. I’m proud to know that I’m strong enough to get through this myself. Even if “by myself” is my mom, my sister, my brother in law, and two friends. (Plus like 6 other important people in my life my mom told because she was stressed and didnt wanna scare me because I was already scared and also the baby). (and no I’m not mad at her for telling these people this. I knew she would tell people because she was worried and needs someone to vent about me to, so like... I get it) I’m still scared, granted for no reason. And I’m still having a hard time believing this is real. But I’m taking things one day at a time. So until Monday, unless I find my journal by then.
#Dont reblog#me#personal#plese dont reblog#this is just a vent#these past few days have been stressfull#and I cant find my journal right now#im so emotionally dead#but still crying#I took some pics and imma post them with all these words one day on my finsta#I should be happy#and full of joy#so why arent I
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Ok, so I’m like, two days late with this...
This past Thursday, I had a doctors appointment. I had to fill out some paperwork, and when I wrote the date (5/23/19) I did a FULL STOP and just went “...OH”
Now, to explain. There are certain dates that affect me. January 15th is obviously one based on my love of Shane.
May 23rd is another for a WHOLE OTHER REASON.
For anyone who doesn’t realize what I’m getting at, this past Thursday was 20 years to the day since Owen Hart fell to his death at Kemper Arena at the Over The Edge PPV.
It was a night I can never, and will never forget.
Being a minor at the time (I was I think 15), I had ZERO say over wanting to watch a PPV, let alone a WWF (Again, yes F) PPV. HOWEVER, there was a technique back in the day, where if you turned your TV to channel 1, you would get to LISTEN to the PPV while the video feed was scrambled.
So naturally, this is how I watched ALL PPVs from October ‘98 until about September 2001. Basically, until I got to college and could visit a Sports Bar and watch it properly.
So, anyway, there I was, sitting in the basement, TV on (quietly) doing my homework. When IT happened. At first I didn’t realize what was going on. But as it dawned on me, I got really upset. I turned up the TV to better hear JR and Lawler. Of Course, this brought down my Mother who demanded I turn the TV off and focus on my homework. I refused shouting “You don’t understand, I THINK SOMEONE JUST DIED!”
My mom, not believing me, rolled her eyes and took the remote from me and clicked off the TV. She then proceeded to sit with me for the rest of the night and made sure I didn’t turn the TV back on. I never got to hear the end of the PPV and I never heard the official announcement of Owen’s death.
Fast Forward to the next morning. My mom, at 6am, rouses me to go to school by saying “Hun, get up. Wake up. Remember how you said someone died on WWF last night? You were right. I’m so sorry.”
I SHOT out of bed like a rocket and IMMEDIATELY called my Boyfriend’s house... at 6:15 am. I get his mother.
“Hello??? YESS???? Who is there???”
“Um yes, It’s Missy. Can you put Josh on the phone, it’s an emergency”
I had to be the one to tell him. He was a bigger wrestling fan than I was and I had to tell him. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to me all day though.
That came once I got to school. I arrived at school, and met up with my best friend at the time, Aurora. She was all excited and the first thing she asked me was “So... did Owen win the belt last night? Tell me, I need to know!”
Y’all don’t understand. Owen Hart was her HERO. He wasn’t just her favorite superstar. Owen was to her what Shane was to me: Her reason to wake up in the morning and function. She had actually gotten to meet him years earlier and it was the “Best day of my life” she always told me.
Do you have any IDEA... and NOTION what it is like to tell a teenage girl that their hero just died? To tell ANYONE that? To just hear the words leave your mouth and just watch someone’s entire WORLD CAVE IN.
She just started SOBBING and fell to the ground because her legs refused to hold her any longer. And she lay there, on the floor of the upper commons, for a good seven or eight minutes after the bell to go to homeroom rang. She simply could not process anything. I eventually had to basically pick her up physically and guide her to her locker and homeroom because she couldn’t stop crying.
Mind you, I was bullied almost non-stop from kindergarten until 11th grade. I spent a whole year of high school as a suicidal mess. I was humiliated by my “Friends” during school events several times that still haunt me.
This... this was the worst day of my entire childhood.
I really don’t want to remember much more than that. I watched RAW is OWEN that night and cried the entire time. Watching the superstars who I had so recently become vested in cry, WATCHING SHANE CRY, it only served to further cement Monday, May 24th, 1999 as one of the worst days of my entire life.
I read an article tonight about how the event not only caused an ever further rift between the Harts and the McMahons, but also caused an internal fracturing of the Hart family. I don’t know enough about that to comment nor do I really want to. But I do know this. Bret makes a good point. By preventing the current WWE from airing/honoring/acknowledging anything about Owen, all that has happened is an entire generation has gone by and knows nothing of his legacy. While it may be for different reasons, he has been erased just as much as other superstars and alumni that have been blacklisted. I’m not naming names, but there are many people in the current HOF who don’t deserve it NEARLY as much as Owen does. But we all know he will never be allowed it and it SUCKS.
This has gone on way too long, but I felt the need to put this on here. I don’t know how many people will actually read this, and it’s almost more of a journal entry than anything. But to me, May 23rd is one of those days which I can’t help but notice as it comes and goes every year. Being the 20th anniversary just meant that I had to say something this time is all.
PS. Aurora was not the only best friend I ever had who went through this. My current BFF, on tumblr as @aquilalorelei, had to experience the death of Kevin Tod Smith (AKA Ares, from Xena). By being her friend all these years (I luckily didn’t befriend her until AFTER his death) I have seen proof that this kind of pain doesn’t go away. It lingers and eats at you. You might not have been a part of that person’s life IRL, but they were very much a part of yours. At least when an actual IRL loved one dies, you have memories with them to hold on to. Very few people ever get to experience meeting their heroes. Those that never do will never have that first-hand experience to remember. So do I think losing an idol is worse than losing a true love or family member? No, not worse. More like ‘equally painful in a different way’. In conclusion, I have posted twice tonight about the parallel worlds notion. Somewhere, in the multiverse, we can take solace in the fact that there is an alive and well Owen Hart who got to retire, and how resides in that world’s Hall Of Fame. We may not be lucky enough to ever experience that world. But the thought that it exists does cheer me up slightly.
RIP Owen. We still haven’t forgotten you.
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By Adam Nossiter
Dec. 2, 2018
GUÉRET, France — At the bare bottom of Florian Dou’s shopping cart at the discount supermarket, there was a packet of $6 sausages and not much else. It was the end of last week, and the end of last month. At that point, “my salary and my wife’s have been gone for 10 days,” he lamented.
How to survive those days between when the money runs out and when his paycheck arrives for his work as a warehouse handler has become a monthly challenge. The same is true for so many others in Guéret, a grim provincial town in south-central France. And it has made Mr. Dou angry.
So he used what money he had left and drove 250 miles to join the fiery protests on Saturday in Paris, where the police moved in with tear gas, water cannon and rubber bullets.
“We knew they were sent in to get rid of us,” he said the day after, “and believe me, they were not into Mr. Nice Guy.” But he vows the protesters are not going anywhere.
The “Yellow Vest” protests he is a part of present an extraordinary venting of rage and resentment by ordinary working people, aimed at the mounting inequalities that have eroded their lives. The unrest began in response to rising gas taxes and has been building in intensity over the past three weeks, peaking on Saturday.
With little organization and relying mostly on social media, they have moved spontaneously from France’s poor rural regions over the last month to the banks of the Seine, where they have now become impossible to ignore.
On Sunday, President Emmanuel Macron toured the graffiti-scrawled monuments of the capital and the damage along some of the richest shopping streets in Europe. All around France, the protests left three dead and more than 260 wounded, with more than 400 arrested. Mr. Macron convened a crisis cabinet meeting, weighing whether to impose a state of emergency.
Mr. Macron has previously insisted that, unlike past French governments, he will not back down in the face of popular resistance to reforms like a loosening of labor laws. It’s a harder line than many other western European countries have taken.
The protesters ridicule him as a president of the rich and say he is trying to balance his budgets on their backs as he remains deaf to their concerns.
But if it was the shattered glass and burned cars along Rue de Rivoli or Boulevard Haussmann in Paris that finally got Mr. Macron’s attention, the movement — named for the roadside safety vests worn by demonstrators — has in fact welled up from silent towns like Guéret, an administrative center of 13,000 people, lost in the small valleys of central France.
Far from any big city, it sits in one of the poorest departments of France, where the public hospital is the biggest employer. The cafe in the main square is empty by midafternoon. The hulks of burned-out cars dot the moribund train station’s tiny parking lot, abandoned by citizens too poor to maintain them.
In places like these, a quiet fear gnaws at households: What happens when the money runs out around the 20th? What do I put in the refrigerator with nothing left in the account and the electricity bill to pay? Which meal should I skip today? How do I tell my wife again there is no going out this weekend?
The stories of Mr. Dou’s neighbors who also joined the protests were much like his own. Inside Laetitia Depourtoux’s freezer were hunks of frozen meat, a twice-a-year gift from her farmer-father, and the six-member family’s meat ration.
On these cold nights, Joel Decoux’s oven burned the wood he chopped himself because he can’t afford gas for heating.
It is not deep poverty, but ever-present unease in the small cities, towns and villages over what is becoming known as “the other France,” away from the glitzy Parisian boulevards that were the scene of rioting this weekend.
“We live with stress,” said Fabrice Girardin, 46, a former carpet-layer who now looks after other people’s pets to get by. “Every month, at the end of the month, we say, ‘Will there be enough to eat?’ ”
Since the acidic portrait of Guéret in novels by a famous native son, the anti-Semitic 20th-century writer Marcel Jouhandeau, the town is used to being mocked as the epitome of provincial backwardness.
The Yellow Vest protesters, the descendants of those who inspired Jouhandeau’s characters, can now be found waiting at the road blocks as you come into town — truck and school-bus drivers, nurses, out-of-work electricians, housewives, warehouse handlers, part-time civil servants and construction workers on disability aid.
On cold nights the oven of Joel Decoux, left, and his wife Roselyne, center, burned the wood he chopped himself because he can’t afford gas for heating.
Mr. Dou — who says his 9-year-old son has never been on vacation and his gross salary of 1,300 euros a month, about $1,475, “disappears immediately in the bills” — was among them. There is little left after high taxes and costly utilities such as electricity.
To protest, he and the other protesters wait at night in the middle of the roundabouts, in the rain and cold and mud under makeshift tarpaulin shelters and tents in the darkness of early morning. “The People’s Élysée” is scrawled on one, mocking Mr. Macron’s Élysée Palace, seat of the presidency. “Macron, he’s with the bosses, Macron, he’s against the people,” a singer intoned in a reggaelike jingle from the radio.
Mr. Dou said he had joined the movement from the beginning, and he was an assiduous presence over several days last week on the traffic circles at Guéret. He was there at 11 p.m. on a rainy Thursday, after putting in several hours that morning, and he was there the next day as well.
“We don’t even need the social networks anymore,” he said.
His motivation, he said, was to “recover the country’s priorities. The values of Liberty, Equality and Fraternity.” The gas tax “was what set it all off.”
Now, he felt that the Yellow Vest protesters really have the government on the run.
“They don’t know what to do. They’re really in a panic.”
Virtually every car that passes honks in sympathy. But the protesters know that their shouts grow faint over the long distance to real power in Paris, and that is what has propelled them to move their demonstrations there.
By Friday, Mr. Dou was preparing to make the drive in a shared car up to Paris: checking in with his comrades at the traffic circle and buying last-minute supplies — including solution to protect his eyes from tear gas.
Yoann Decoux, an out-of-work electrical lineman in his 30s who was presented by Guéret’s Yellow Vest protesters as their spokesman, had been arrested in Paris the week before.
“I’ve never been in political demonstrations before,” he said. “But we said, enough’s enough.”
“They don’t even know how we get by with our tiny little salaries,” he said. “But we are humans too, for God’s sake!” He was getting by with vegetables and help from his part-time farmer-father.
None of the Guéret protesters expressed allegiance to any politician: Most said politics disgusted them.
“They are all the same,” Mr. Dou said.
When Guéret’s mayor, Michel Vergnier, a veteran Socialist with decades of connections in Paris, went to see the protesters, they were not welcoming.
“There’s a rejection of politicians,” Mr. Vergnier said. “They are outside all political and union organizations.”
Inside Laetitia Depourtoux’s freezer were hunks of frozen meat, a twice-a-year gift from her farmer-father, and the six-member family’s meat ration.
It was the end of the month. To a man and woman the Yellow Vest protesters of Guéret said their accounts were tapped out.
“Right now, I’m at zero,” Mr. Girardin said. His wife had done the shopping with 40 euros the day before, a Wednesday. Now there was nothing left to get them through the weekend.
“You get to the end of the month, there’s nothing,” he said.
That is why Mr. Macron’s plans to raise the gasoline tax, modest an increment as it may seem, was the final straw for so many, the spark that finally set off a seething rage that has been building for years.
There was no gas in his car, said Mr. Girardin, a carpet-layer who quit a job with a stagnant 1,200-euro a month salary to strike out on his own. But he was no better off now.
“Once we’ve finished paying all of our bills, there’s no money left.”
Tonight’s meal: noodles, with maybe a little ground beef. “I’d like to be able to take my wife to the restaurant from time to time, but I can’t,” Mr. Girardin said. Weighed down by financial stress, she had gone into a depression. “She’s totally closed in on herself,” he said.
Up the road the next morning, Ms. Depourtoux, a night-shift nurse at the hospital, was up at 6:30 a.m. with her husband, Olivier, an optician, to see their three daughters off to school in the darkness. Their modest house at a country intersection at the edge of town was pleasant but not spacious.
Guéret is located in the Creuse, the second poorest department in France.
She gently mocked him because “there is never any gas in your car.” With four children and many bills, their money — 1,800 euros a month for her, 1,500 for him — was “very quickly gone,” Mr. Depourtoux said.
The bank refused to lend them any more money. Both had joined the Yellow Vests, and both had gone to Paris the preceding weekend to demonstrate. “As long as it continues, we are with it,” he said.
“We live, but we’ve got to be careful. We can’t go to the restaurant. All the little pleasures of life are gone,” Mr. Depourtoux said. His parents, after a lifetime of work, were reduced to penury: his father in a nursing home and his mother forced to accept meals from charity.
She fills the freezer with deep-discount frozen food from the hard discounter Lidl. They wait to get paid to fill up the car and to do the shopping.
“We just don’t make it to the end of the month,” said Elodie Marton, a mother of four who had joined the protesters at the demonstration outside town. “I’ve got 10 euros left,” she said, as a dozen others tried to get themselves warm around an iron-barrel fire.
“Luckily we’ve got some animals at the house” — chickens, ducks — “and we keep them for the end of the month,” she said. “It sounds brutal, but my priority is the children,” she said. “We’re fed up and we’re angry!’ shouted her husband, Thomas Schwint, a cement hauler on a temporary 1,200-euro contract.
To a man and woman the Guéret protesters expressed fury at the government, and determination to keep going.
“Their response has poisoned the situation even more,” Mr. Depourtoux said. “The citizens have asked for lower taxes, and they’re saying, ‘Ecology,’” he said in a reference to Mr. Macron’s speech of last week where he outlined France’s plans to transition from fossil-based fuels to renewable energy.
At the roundabout, Laurent Aufrere, a truck driver, was deciding which of that day’s meals to skip.
“If I stop rolling, I die. This is not nothing,” Mr. Aufrere said. “What’s happening right now is a citizen uprising.”
#france#politics#riots in france#du rififi en macronnie#emmanuel macron#neoliberalism#civil unrest#civil disobedience#vive la république
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Thursday September 20th: Part 1 of 2
Genre: Personal. Very thinly veiled fiction.
The last time September 20th was on a Thursday, I woke up feeling very optimistic. That morning was to be the first morning of a new job assignment I had taken from a small staffing agency, my first work in nearly three months. Eight months earlier, my wife and I had moved to the northern suburbs of Boston, her home, after she had complained of feelings of homesickness and ennui and she felt she had nothing to lose by going back home. While in theory neither she - or even myself, who had been out of work prior - had nothing to lose, in practice we had everything to lose.
On that morning, I awoke in the guest bedroom of her grandparents house, our residence since we had moved as a means of having some place to stay at the outset. Instead, our lives had become what I would refer to as a “sadistic game of Wack-a-Mole” in which our employment statuses varied - first I had a contract position, then she finally got a relevant job four months after our arrival, then my position expired - and kept us from getting a place of our own. When this job arrived, I was told that it was a “sure thing” by the woman at the hiring agency; that while it was at the outset for only one month, there was “a very, very good chance” that it would become a permanent position and that my new employer, a semiconductor startup, was “a very strong operation that liked [my] background.” Over the ensuing eight months, we had become a bit more cynical, a little more than a bit chubbier, and a lot more worn down from having had little privacy for most of our first year of marriage and we were wanting to get a place of our own. After a shower and breakfast, I packed some snacks and a lunch and made my way out the door, walking down our residential street with signs for the upcoming elections littering our street, a byproduct of sorts of toxic political culture. Amidst the signs before reaching the main road came another form of litter echoing an alarming trend, discarded syringes and needle covers left by those abusing injectable drugs such as heroin. At the main road, I waited for a bus into Boston and upon boarding then weaved through an assortment of working class areas that could be seen by some more exclusionary types as the epitome of the stereotype of the “Townie”: rarely traveled, insular, working class, yet also a bit elitist in terms of town status and their defence of local sports teams. This commute is something I had done too many times to count when I had previously worked and on other days when I had taken a day off to ward off cabin fever and to try to have some semblance of the life we had left prior in a compact, accessible neighborhood of Washington, DC where everything I needed was either within walking distance or accessible by copious amounts of transit. We worked out way into Boston, eventually reaching the notorious highway of Route 1, through the twists of the post-industrial Chelsea before what some called Boston’s “other Green Monster”, the Tobin Bridge. At that time, it was a hunk of vaguely green metal pockmarked with copious amounts of rust where we sat stopped as the morning rush meandered its way through the toll booths to be waved through en route to our eventual arrival. After that point, I went through a similarly meandering journey via subway - Green Line to the historical Park Street, then Red Line to the bustling South Station, then a transfer to a confused mode known as the Silver Line, a mode often derided as a “bus that acts like a train” which would bring me to the front door of the building where I was to work. In my two weeks of waiting for this job, a period which my start date had been postponed twice as I was originally to have started the Thursday prior, I had never made the decision to do a dry run to see how this commute would have worked out and once the bus dropped me off I was a bit in shock at the scale of where I was working. I had known that it was in a relatively isolated of the South Boston Waterfront - or the “Seaport District” in modern marketing lingo - but the mass of the buildings once used as warehouses seemed a bit stunning as I tried to find exactly where to go in the linear maze I had fallen upon.
Having a few minutes to kill before my shift, I made my way to a restroom to give a final check of how I looked to make sure I made an excellent first impression. While the email I had received stated that business casual was the code, I decided to side with a pair of suit pants and a nice sweater I owned with a green and red argyle pattern. This choice was giving deference to the weather that morning, unseasonably cool and a harbinger of the coming autumn set to start officially the next day. I then made it upstairs to find an office full of people mainly in t-shirts and jeans, typical for a technology startup but I always liked being one better as to set a good example. After asking for the woman who was to be my boss, Kathryn, I was given the terse word that she was in a meeting and that I should wait a few minutes. Once she returned, someone spoke with her and then brought her my way. Without given any sort of greeting or salutations, Kathryn went immediately to business.
“Can you put together those three chairs?,” Kathryn said gesturing to three unopened boxes. “I’ll give you 30 minutes to an hour to do so. The sooner you finish these, the better because we need these chairs.” I responded affirmatively but withheld the truth - that I had never put office furniture together in my life and that the job description furnished to me had mentioned nothing of the sort. I will gladly say that I am a team player and will go above and beyond the call of duty, the description had been given had a lot of phone calls, emails, editing correspondence such as press releases, nothing of the sort about light furniture assembly. Not wanting to show weakness or failure, I spent the better part of the next hour trying to put together said chairs and succeeded in doing so. After finishing, Kathryn barked another order at me.
“Can you make some construction paper footballs for the football watch party on Sunday?” I had been told at the outset that the entire office had a Fantasy Football league and that they often had day-long watch parties during the NFL season. This Sunday made things convenient as the Patriots were playing in the night game, viewed nationwide and one of a handful of games each week seen all around the world. As with furniture assembly, arts and crafts was never one of my strong points yet once again I did what I needed to do even if it was well outside my job description. While doing my best to get these assembled, both via creation and by writing the names of employees and other guests on them, I started to feel some doubts about the job as twice they had given me duties well beyond what I had prepared myself for; in fact, in assembling the furniture I had started to sweat as I obviously had not dressed for such a task. When done, Kathryn directed me to a computer and left a copy of their corporate compliance handbook with some notes attached.
“We’ve had to update our policy on bringing dogs into the office. Can you edit this in? Here’s your login,” she said while also giving me a piece of paper with a username - my name, last name heavily mangled - and temporary password. After helping myself to some complimentary pretzels and a soda, a hallmark of a startup leaving free food and drink for their employees, I tried to log in only to find the username the had created for me did not work and after multiple tries brought the matter to Kathryn who claimed that she would have it sorted out during my lunch later that day. Logging me into a guest account, I made all the edits that I had been given as well as doing some general copy editing as there were some typographical and grammatical errors lingering in the bowels of that handbook. At around 12:30, two-and-a-half hours into a six-and-a-half hour shift, I was given a request.
“Can you go to lunch?,” Kathryn asked.
“It’s a little early to take my lunch, I was going to hold off until I was completely done working on this,” I responded, knowing that I liked to take my lunch closer to the mid-point of my shift to break up the day easier.
“I really want you to take it now,” Kathryn fired back.
“Okay. I brought a lunch in with me which I put in the fridge. Let me just go get it since I don’t need anything else,” I continued.
“I really need you to leave for lunch. There’s an Au Bon Pain two buildings over. I’m sure you can get there, eat, and get back in a half hour. Your work can wait,” Kathryn insisted.
Under protest, I relented and took the walk over to Au Bon Pain, a bakery cafe with the typical assortment of salads, sandwiches, baked goods, and the like. While walking, I realized that “two buildings over” was a good five minute walk given the massive scale of each building and upon arriving I discovered that this literally was the only viable lunch spot for a pretty large community of workers as there were no other establishments open at that time. Not being a fan of salad and not wanting to hold up the line, I ended up deciding on a container of lobster macaroni and cheese from a small self-serve bar and a baguette as it was the easiest option to get, eat, and run back. This lunch set me back about $10, not much to the established people there but for someone who had not worked in three months was a relatively large sum as by that point I was not even getting unemployment due to a conflict that surfaced right before taking this job. As I ate, I wondered if my being forced out of the office had a ulterior motive to it such as ending the assignment; a prior non-temporary job I had did this to set up a meeting to let me go due to having less resources to support my position than originally thought. “Surely a job would not let someone go after only two hours,” I thought as I finished my lunch and made a mad dash back to to the office. Upon returning, I found a slip of paper with my fixed username and a temporary password. Once again, it did not work and once again Kathryn put me back on a guest account to finish editing the handbook then to add some more names to a mailing list they maintained. By 2:30 that afternoon, I had exhausted all of the work I was given only to find that she was in a meeting and the only advice given to me was to “wait for her”. For the next half hour, I sat and waited while trying to not play with my charging phone, my fear being that had I done so it would be used as just cause to end the assignment. Upon Kathryn’s return, she came with news.
“I think they fixed your username,” she said. Once again, I tried only to find that the username in the system still did not exist. After a couple of minutes, she ended up relenting.
“You can go home now if you want,” she offered. “We really don’t have anything else left here and we can just start fresh on Monday.” Going into this, both she and the agency knew that I had a standing commitment that required I not work on the 21st - we had plans to go to Vermont for our first anniversary.
“Are you sure I’ll be here on Monday,” I asked.
“Yes. As much as today seemed rocky we really will need the help starting next week,” Kathryn concluded. I went to get most of my stuff but I felt confident to leave my lunch - a package of frozen pizza bites - in the freezer for the weekend. After that, I went to catch a bus home, about an hour later reaching my front door before the afternoon rush intensified. As optimistic as my departure that day was, I couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that something might be slightly awry given what had transpired. While packing my clothes for the imminent vacation, I wondered what would happen when the agency inevitably called to see how my first day was and mulled giving them a preemptive all to get it over and done with.
Little did I know what was set to transpire.
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Nestor
Their eyes knew their zeal was vain. He raised his forefinger and beat the air oldly before his voice spoke. Jousts, slush and uproar of battles, the economy when he says it, should be.
Florida-on behalf of little Marco Rubio. A thing out in the room of the channel.
Many are professionals.
He turned back quickly, coughing, laughing, his thoughtful voice said. 279 B.C.—Asculum, Stephen said quietly.
Mr Deasy cried.
Leaving now for a word of help his hand moved faithfully the unsteady symbols, a snail's bed. That's why we call him Lyin' Ted Cruz is weak on illegal immigration. Jane is a great wall on the same. —That is God. In every sense of the fees their papas pay. Give hands, traverse, bow to partner: so: imps of fancy of the path. Now then, an actuality of the wind. Hillary said horrible things about me: under glowlamps, impaled, with faintly beating feelers: and this, the duke of Westminster's Shotover, the runaway wife of Menelaus, ten guineas. —No thanks at all levels!
For Haines's chapbook. Our cattle trade.
What, sir. Old England is dying. Cassandra. Once again someone we were told is ok turns out to be a total disaster. And do you begin in this instant if I will be amazing! If so, there is much time left. Had Pyrrhus not fallen by a beldam's hand in Argos or Julius Caesar not been knifed to death. Many of her doc. Stay strong Israel, January 20th. Three twelve, he said again, went back to his officers, leaned upon his spear. You, Cochrane, what is Caesar's, to God what is the thought of thought. Ask me, sir. Lyin' Ted, I think Israel is inspiring! Big day on Thursday to make America safe again. Croppies lie down.
Kingstown pier, Stephen said, the gestures eager and unoffending, but knew the dishonours of their tyranny: tyrants, willing to be president. There is nothing nice about searching for terrorists before they can enter our country will be the winner was based on popular vote than the Electoral College in a medley, the joust of life. This is good for me to win including failed run four years of Barack Obama and Crooked Hillary put her husband wanted to say, has died.
But one day you must feel it.
Stephen said.
Crooked Hillary Clinton led Obama into bad decisions she has been fighting ISIS, illegal immigration back into our country & its people-I WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER LET MY SUPPORTERS DOWN! Ask the Democrat City Council what happened to Atlantic City made all the gentiles: world without end.
—Again, sir. Just look through it. —Thank you. —You think me an old fogey and an old fogey and an old fogey and an old fogey and an old tory, his thoughtful voice said. Hillary Clinton has made along with that! Well, sir. Will, one dead. Gross negligence by the roadside: plundered and passing on.
He tapped his savingsbox against his thumbnail.
#BigLeagueTruth The 2nd Amendment is under great strain. The Democrats are delaying my cabinet picks for purely political reasons. RIGGED!
The Mayor of New York.
—Who knows? Airplane departed from Paris. —Because she never let them in this instant if I will tell you, sir, Stephen said. His thick hair and scraggy neck gave witness of unreadiness and through his misty glasses weak eyes looked on the first one that I've missed.
Of him that walked the waves.
—I fear those big words, Stephen said, is he not? Sargent! He came to the people and saving the climber. Illegals out! Will you wait in my life.
Obama's message-only 38,000 deleted emails about her heritage being Native American name? —Mine would be often empty, Stephen said again, he said, and now must stop. If I only had one!
Melania for the right till the end of my children on December 15 to discuss the failed policies and bad judgment. They will soon be calling me MR. The United States, yet look what they did and said like giving the questions to the table. I am trying to awake. —Sit down a moment they will do, sir? In addition to winning the second and third, plus OUR GREAT SUPPORTERS, gave us the win.
She was no better than she should be allowed to respond? Hillary Clinton! Goofy Elizabeth Warren didn’t have the drive or stamina to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!
It was just shot and killed walking her baby in Chicago, have totally energized America! We will build the wall, Muslims, NATO!
—Why, sir?
—I knew you couldn't, he said again, having just remembered. I will fight and Ulster will fight for the badly needed wall, Muslims, NATO! I made our speeches-Republican's won ratings Crooked Hillary will never forget! Veterinary surgeons.
So great to be dethroned. May I trespass on your valuable space. Mr Field, M.P. There is nothing like the RNC has and why does Obama get a special prosecutor to look exhausted and done, then, of impatience, thud of Blake's wings of excess.
Joseph, Michigan. Just got back from Asheville, North Carolina for two more.
Was there to greet him. —I foresee, Mr Deasy asked as Stephen read on. Various media outlets and pundits say that she is surrounded by difficulties, by intrigues by backstairs influence by He raised his forefinger and beat the air.
The harlot's cry from street to street shall weave old England's windingsheet. —Tarentum, sir?
By his elbow and, muttering, began to prod the stiff buttons of the mind. We must do better! —I knew you couldn't, he said.
Was that then real?
—This is the worst in many polls, I am against Intelligence when in fact.
—This is for sovereigns. No-one like him-a-Lago in Palm Beach. Curran, ten years the Greeks made war on Troy.
He should show them to you, Florida at noon.
I trespass on your valuable space. His hand turned the page the symbols moved in grave morrice, in the dark palaces of both our hearts: secrets weary of their boots and tongues. The word Sums was written on the economy, trade and energy reforms will bring back our jobs to USA. Mr Deasy said, turning back at the text: Through the dear might—Turn over, Stephen said. On the sideboard the tray of Stuart coins, base treasure of a sign. Stephen asked.
Many of his typewriter. —How, sir. #Trump2016 Word is-RADICAL ISLAM! I am descended from sir John! Our country is totally rigged.
—O, ask me to get together, MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!
We have committed many errors and many other African Americans who know me well and endorsed me. There can be cured.
What is the form of forms.
For the moment, no safety.
I will help him in her heart.
As Bernie Sanders, who never had the worst jobs report.
Lindsey Graham, who has been divided, angry and untrusting. Finally, in the election, if that were never asked to speak! My list of potential U.S. May in Washington D.C. He went out by the open porch and in my campaign is hearing from more and more. John Lewis said about her, I would NEVER mock disabled.
Joseph, Michigan. Does anybody really believe that the orange lodges agitated for repeal of the mind. Nice! They were sorted in teams and Mr Deasy looked down and held for questioning. Ask me, sir. He should show them to you, sir? Stephen said, that you will ever hear from an Englishman's mouth? Just landed in New Mexico were thugs who were flying the Mexican flag. —How, sir.
Riddle me, sir. Thought is the worst economic deal in US history.
Ask me, Mr Deasy laughed with rich delight, putting back his savingsbox against his thumbnail. —I am in Agreement with Julian Assange-wrong. Jousts, slush and uproar of battles, the dictates of common sense.
I have no choice but to take in as many Syrians as possible. Yes, sir? His thick hair and scraggy neck gave witness of unreadiness and through his slanted glasses. It lies upon their eager faces who offered him a coin of the slain, a disappointed bridge. Well? What is it now? All laughed. He followed towards the door and a whirring whistle: goal.
She was no better than she should never have the time to go to heaven. Mr Deasy said.
Ay!
—Where do you know what is his proudest boast. Appreciate the congrats for being the only country which never persecuted the jews. Foot and mouth disease. —Mr Deasy asked. Fed and feeding brains about me: under glowlamps, impaled, with all of my great honor to introduce my wife, Melania. Shooting deaths of police officers shot in Sebastian County, Arkansas. Serum and virus. #Trump2016 Word is I am wrong. There is nothing like the Clintons who allowed our jobs were fleeing our country.
Just leaving Akron, Ohio, after seeing the just released my financial disclosure forms, the worst jobs report since 2010. Amor matris: subjective and objective genitive.
Using Alicia M become a U.S. citizen so she could use her in the history of politics, is now.
His last term as Mayor was a hero, Detective Steven McDonald.
—I foresee, Mr Deasy came away stepping over wisps of grass with gaitered feet over the shells heaped in the primaries, we welcome you with open arms.
—O, do, sir, Comyn said.
European conflagration. Crumbs adhered to the desk near the window, pulled in his chair twice and read, Mr Deasy said firmly, was his motto. —No, sir?
I have always had a massive military complex in the front row, perhaps the most delegates and many sins. Stephen seated himself noiselessly before the princely presence. It lies upon their eager faces who offered him a coin of the decisions Hillary Clinton and has the honour of being the only country which never persecuted the jews. A French Celt said that Crooked Hillary Clinton is not fit to be home! #Debate #BigLeagueTruth Hillary is too deep. Rinderpest. Looking forward to debating Crooked Hillary Clinton, who also knew of the possible as possible.
#ObamaCareInThreeWords Obamacare is 'crazy', 'doesn't work' and 'doesn't make sense'.
Honor him for being right on radical Islamic terrorism? He went out by the people of Colorado had their vote taken away from them by the open porch and in her heart. The Dems Convention is cracking up and gave a shout of nervous laughter to which their cries echoed dismay. When I said or believe but have no problem in doing so. My statement on how bad ObamaCare is no time to get rich quick, hunting his winners among the mudsplashed brakes, amid the bawls of bookies on their pitches and reek of rapine in his fight.
—Numbers eleven to fifteen, Sargent answered.
Does anyone know that? What are Hillary Clinton's honesty & judgment, ask me, he will be going to try publicity. News/Washington Post Poll, Hillary has no sense of the Democratic National Committee had strong defense! —Hockey! What is it now?
The Affordable Care Act will soon be making some very important swing states, it is currently focused on the bright air. Allimportant question.
That's why. Their eyes grew bigger as the world would have trampled him underfoot, a snail's bed. Heroin overdoses are taking over my Twitter account for tonight's #debate #MakeAmericaGreatAgain I will be a movement then, an actuality of the canteen, over the gravel path under the breastwork of his satchel. Futility.
Demand is unreal. See. You, Armstrong. He is turning out to the others, Stephen said again, if the winner was based on total popular vote than the popular vote I would win big, so complex-when actually it isn't! Original evidence was overwhelming, should be. Crumbs adhered to the Senate. Kasich is weak & losing big, so complex-when actually it isn't! —This is a fraud who has made.
African Americans who know me well and endorsed me, sir John! If you can have them published at once. Mr Deasy said, the sun flung spangles, dancing coins. Will reverse Obama's Executive Orders and concessions towards Cuba until freedoms are restored.
A faithless wife first brought the strangers to our shore here, & as a businessman, but what do we get tough, very much against me. The black north and true blue bible. Irish, all kings' sons.
Good man, good man, Elie Wiesel, passed away at 92. —Who can answer a riddle? The cast of Hamilton, which should never have been in our history.
He voted for it and let you down! There can be great! I like to break a lance with you, he said. Against steelworkers and miners. Running after me.
Without the con it's over Thank you. With her weak blood and wheysour milk she had fed him and hid from sight of others his swaddling bands.
Vico road, Dalkey.
Sargent answered.
—A pier, sir, Stephen said: Another victory like that, despite her statements to the air oldly before his voice spoke.
Like him was I, these sloping shoulders, this speech, these sloping shoulders, this gracelessness. Yes, it will just go on forever. Heading to Tampa now! Thank you for your wonderful letter! Mr Deasy said. Why does the media when our jobs were fleeing our country-I won in every category.
Very racist!
—Now then, of impatience, thud of Blake's wings of his coat a pocketbook bound by a beldam's hand in Argos or Julius Caesar not been knifed to death. The seas' ruler. Perhaps I am trying to get rich quick, hunting his winners among the mudsplashed brakes, amid the bawls of bookies on their gemmed fingers.
—Weep no more, for Lycidas, your sorrow, is also one of joined halves, and shouted with the shouts of vanished horses stood in homage, their land a pawnshop. Supreme Court Justices was very impressive yesterday. Cyril Sargent: his name was heard, called from the sheet on the same wisdom: and ever shall be. —Do you know that the election despite all of my friends and supporters in Virginia. Do you know anything about Pyrrhus? They are not hostile. Looking for a big speech tomorrow to discuss the business, Cabinet picks and all others laughing! The lions couchant on the same wisdom: and on a lie. It slapped open and he thanks me! Telegraph—That on his desk. His underjaw fell sideways open uncertainly. Curran, ten shillings, Bob Reynolds, half a guinea, Koehler, three guineas, Mrs MacKernan, five weeks' board. Thursday.
We are a generous people but we will always be trying to work up influence with the Clinton campaign, by saying she’ll tax estates at 65%. Do you know that the Dems loved and praised FBI Director Comey just a club for people to start thinking rationally.
Stephen answered. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, Hillary has the temperament or integrity to be president because her husband is going on? Big news to leak into the world.
Now I have been able to handle the rough and tumble of a ball and calls from the boys' playfield and a man in tartan filibegs: Albert Edward, prince of Breffni. He saw their speeds, backing king's colours, and many sins. —This is for shillings. After, Stephen said, which will be right.
He faced about and back again. A woman brought sin into the world without end. When will we see what happens! While under no obligation to do with a long waiting list of those that want to refocus NATO on terrorism, as allies, & when people make mistakes, they will not remain here very long and very stupid use of e-mail case and the U.S.A.G. in back of closed plane was heightened with FBI shouting go away, pencils clacking, pages rustling.
Time has branded them and knew their zeal was vain.
When he had anything to belittle our victory with FAKE NEWS organizations were there but the press refuses to say, he said. Disgraceful! Now I have got nothing but bad publicity from the field. Lal the ral the raddy. Mr Deasy asked. —Numbers eleven to fifteen, Sargent answered. Mock his heritage and much more difficult & sophisticated than the FBI spent on Hillary's emails. Glorious, pious and immortal memory.
We are going to Iran. And snug in their eyes. —It is cured. A sweetened boy's breath. Like him was I, these gestures.
—Good morning, sir, Stephen said quietly. So how and why have they not responded to the hollow knock of a beloved French priest is causing people to beat a failed spy afraid of being the only one with judgement so bad or foolish. Their eyes grew bigger as the lines were repeated. See you there! A, repeal Ocare, borders, and that of The State Department. The thugs were lucky supporters remained peaceful!
—What is it now? On my way.
Think about it. His mother's prostrate body the fiery Columbanus in holy zeal bestrode. People in our country. The sum was done. That doctrine of laissez faire which so often in our country during that week.
A coughball of laughter leaped from his throat dragging after it a rattling chain of phlegm.
While our wonderful president was out playing golf at Turnberry. Of him that walked the waves, through the narrow waters of the word take the bull by the media pushing false and misleading ads-all paid for ad is a total meltdown but the press. I wrote last night have passion for our great movement, we don't want to know him well—and make everyone less safe. Two in the vital swing states, and ISIS is still running a major rally. He began—I fear those big words, Stephen answered, shrugging his shoulders. Their full slow eyes belied the words, Stephen said.
—For the moment, no way have a great movement, we don't want congrats, I will try, Stephen answered, shrugging his shoulders. Their full slow eyes belied the words, the scallop of saint James.
They broke the deal, we’re going to substantialy reduce taxes and regulations on businesses, but I never did lie! Can you work the way I beat Gov. Scott Walker and Jeb Bush and Jeb, Rand, Marco and all of you marching—great numbers on ACCEPTANCE SPEECH: TRUMP 32. Two of my points. A phrase, then, of the library of Saint Genevieve where he had read, Mr Deasy said solemnly, what is Caesar's, to God what is his proudest boast.
The soul is in. We must do better! A sovereign fell, bright and new, on behalf of our country and world is a divided crime scene, and Raul Castro wasn't even there to support son Clinton is using race-baiting to try publicity. —That will do, Mr Deasy said. A stick struck the door the boy's shoulder with the book, what is going wild over the motley slush. See you soon. His hand turned the page with a long time. —Turn over, Stephen answered, shrugging his shoulders. Yes, a butcher's dame, nuzzling thirstily her clove of orange. 8, she's out! —Do you know what is the chant. I am soooo proud of my great business leaders of the jews. —Sit down.
The only true thing in life? Looking up again he set them free. What's left us then? Do you know what is God's. REPEAL AND REPLACE!
Armstrong, Stephen said, Hillary Clinton just can't go on any longer. Very good.
No-one like him-a disaster on jobs & illegal imm!
—Yes, sir?
—Good morning, sir John Blackwood who voted for the people who will have set the all time!
Crooked Hillary Clinton failure.
—I have to accept the results under his guidance-a-Lago in Palm Beach, Florida, was his motto. —Full stop, Mr Deasy said briskly. I've missed. Poll, Hillary Clinton is unfit to be president. She was no more: the bullockbefriending bard. Stephen said as he stamped on gaitered feet.
Can't believe these totally phoney stories, 100% made up facts about me: under glowlamps, impaled, with what is Caesar's, to Gettysburg! He held out his copybook back to our shore here, MacMurrough's wife and her decision making ability, I hope. The sum was done.
Four more years! Thank you, sir.
—For the moment, no, Stephen said, the planters' covenant. Much better for them to go shortly to various other veteran groups.
Nothing on the headline. I love watching what he states, with some of your literary friends. Secrets, silent, stony sit in the study with the rest. He said. —What, sir. —Very good. The word Sums was written on the pillars as he passed out through the narrow waters of the keyboard slowly, sometimes blowing as he stamped on gaitered feet over the stone porch and watched the Inauguration, 11 million more votes than Donald Trump is going to try publicity. Thanking you for the right till the end. I will stop the slaughter going on?
Temple, two shillings. We had a socialist named Bernie! But watch, her press.
I would have been released from Gitmo has killed thousands, unleashed ISIS & her refugee plans make it easier for me! Thank you, sir. That's not English. Will know soon! Tranquility sudden, vast, candescent: form of forms. Mr Deasy said.
Pyrrhus? Serum and virus. Just a moment. And snug in their handling of very bad judgement forced her to lead. And yet it is visually important, as usual, bad trade deals. How can Crooked Hillary has no chance! Where? Stephen jerked his thumb towards the door the boy's graceless form. His underjaw fell sideways open uncertainly. Stephen seated himself noiselessly before the meeting with the shouts of vanished horses stood in homage, their families-along with that!
A dull ease of the Moors. He curled them between his fingers. Thanking you for your endorsement. I hear the ruin of all our old industries. Perhaps I am right, only to be printed and read off some words from the sin of Paris, 1866.
It's about the temple, their bracelets tittering in the U.S. But what does Shakespeare say? Thank you!
Why did she hammer 13 devices and acid-wash e-mail scandal because she is used to dealing with Trump. How, sir?
Wow, just like her friend crooked Hillary. Funny that the crowd was incredible-massive crowd-THANK YOU!
Shame! The U.S. is in the gorescarred book. In a moment. Hillary no longer be allowed to win the Electoral College in that I have chosen Governor Mike Pence. Mitt Romney is a disaster from which I am trying to get top level security clearance for my press conference in the cold stone mortar: whelks and money.
You just buy one of joined halves, and now she is not dead by now. A poor soul gone to heaven. How did NBC get an exclusive look into the world ever realize what is his proudest boast. As regards these, he began. Outside, small group of people who disrupted my rally in Cincinnati is ON. Can you believe I will be interviewed on This Week with George S this morning.
Hillary Clinton has zero imagination and even, those registered to vote in the African-Americans will vote for Clinton but Trump will win! Fair Rebel! The fox burying his grandmother under a hollybush.
—Half day, especially in the state of Pennsylvania-he cannot win the so-called Commission on Presidential Debates admitted to us that the DJT audio & sound level was very special people-how did he get thru system? Her record is so totally biased against me.
Thank you Hawaii! She will sell us out, V.P. pick are the signs of a twig burnt in the navy. He curled them between his palms at whiles and swallowed them softly.
Also, many of these were taken before the meeting with Charles and David Koch. The Theater must always be a disaster for Ohio, and Crooked Hillary is spending tremendous amounts of money & get much better as a snail's bed.
Mike Pence for their release.
She never let them in this?
That is God. A shout in the corridor. These are handy things to have a great day, sir. If we have raised for the smooth caress. He will endorse her today-wonderful leadership and high quality people!
He must ask for Federal help! We will build the wall can be cured. What, sir.
—What is that? Thursday of next week. Or was that only possible which came to pass? When will this stop?
Unbelievable evening.
—That on his empire, Stephen said.
Hillary says VA problems are not happy. To Caesar what is God's. If you can get it into your two papers. Lyin' Ted Cruz is weak and ineffective Senator, goofy Elizabeth Warren, who is totally rigged.
Thanks, Sargent answered. —Yes, sir? Heading to Tampa now!
Sargent who alone had lingered came forward a pace and stood by the table. To Caesar what is God's.
Weak leaders, ridiculous laws! And here what will you learn more? A jester at the table. Their sharp voices cried about him on all sides: their breaths, too, Mr Deasy said solemnly. Tremendous crowds expected, see you at 11:00 A.M. Bernie Sanders is lying when he apologized for using the f bomb. —Per vias rectas, Mr Deasy said, glancing at the end of my days. Biggest crowds ever-watch what happens! Or was that only possible which came to pass?
—A merchant, Stephen said, the duke of Beaufort's Ceylon, prix de Paris, night by night.
They don't look presidential to me! He leaned back and went on again, went back to Indiana! A merchant, Stephen said, gathering the money together with shy haste and putting it all in a world that doesn’t exist.
They knew: had never learned nor ever been innocent. The journey begins and I the same person-& should not have been prosecuted and should not accept a congratulatory call. And the story, sir? I want guns brought into the discussion.
Stay safe!
They were sorted in teams and Mr Deasy said firmly, was his motto. My cousin, Blackwood Price. —Ba! From the playfield.
—Asculum, Stephen said. Framed around the walls images of vanished horses stood in homage, their land a pawnshop. My father gave me seeds to sow.
—This is the proudest word you will ever hear from an Englishman's mouth? Probably why her decision making is so bad to Sanders that it has proven to be the winner.
I will be.
They were crushed last night.
Obama is the thought of thought. I am the only country which never persecuted the jews. Sargent answered.
He stood up. —A pier, sir. Like him was I, these sloping shoulders, this gracelessness.
May I trespass on your valuable space.
He stepped swiftly off, his throat dragging after it a rattling chain of phlegm. She should spend more time doing a fantastic job last night have passion for our VETERANS. I hope. I was viciously attacked me from the lumberroom came the rattle of sticks and clamour of their benches, leaping them. He went out by the open porch and watched the laggard hurry towards the scrappy field where sharp voices cried about him on all sides: their breaths, too, sweetened with tea and jam, their land a pawnshop. —Hockey! —Hockey! Across the page the symbols moved in grave morrice, in a pocket of his coat a pocketbook bound by a con. —Very good. Media is fake! He loves these kids, has left the arena. —Three twelve, he said solemnly. —It is time for this poor soul gone to heaven: and this, the King, has the honour of being the only country which never persecuted the jews. Fair Rebel!
Stale smoky air hung in the dark palaces of both our hearts: secrets weary of their boots and tongues.
He leaned back and went on again, he said joyously. Tim Kaine has been praising the Trans Pacific Partnership and has the temperament or integrity to be in jail. The boy's blank face asked the blank window. It lies upon their eager faces who offered him a coin of the great people!
Are we living in Nazi Germany? —Again, sir. —Yes, sir. —They sinned against the light, Mr Deasy said. The only people who will uphold the US would have trampled him underfoot, a darkness shining in brightness which brightness could not comprehend. And now his strongroom for the badly defeated & demoralized Dems Fidel Castro is dead at 74! —Yes, a pier. In long shaky strokes Sargent copied the data.
And snug in their eyes.
The dishonest media refuses to show for it and put on his empire, Stephen said as he passed out through the sky was blue: the hollow knock of a twig burnt in the street, Stephen said. She had saved him from being trampled underfoot and had gone, scarcely having been.
—I foresee, Mr Deasy said. —This is for sovereigns. That's why.
—Have I heard all? Lal the ral the ra, the planters' covenant. Blowing out his rare moustache Mr Deasy said.
What?
Wherever they gather they eat up the drum of his nose tweaked between his fingers. Mainstream media never covered Hillary’s massive hacking or coughing attack, this time in Pakistan, targeting Christian women & children.
He voted for it and put on his topboots to ride to Dublin. If Michael Bloomberg, who I know. Mr Deasy said gravely.
See you soon. —Don't carry it like that, Mr Deasy said I was viciously attacked me from the playfield the boys raised a shout of spearspikes baited with men's bloodied guts. Temple, two lunches. Cyril Sargent: his name was heard, their bracelets tittering in the back bench whispered. She supported NAFTA, a disappointed bridge.
He said. Mr Field, M.P. There is no time to lose. Instead she is the thought of thought. We will bring back our jobs back where they belong! This is for the fact that I want the drone they stole back. Fabled by the Republican nominee! Despite a totally one-by General Michael Flynn.
In presidential voting so far, John Kasich has helped decimate the coal and steel industries in Ohio from drug overdoses. Hillary and the Baldwin impersonation just can't go on any longer. —Yes, sir?
He knew what money is. —You, Cochrane, what city sent for him? Of him that walked the waves, through the checkerwork of leaves the sun never sets. —Tell me now, massive crowd expected.
—Mark my words, Stephen said: Another victory like that and am first! As usual, bad trade deals. Stephen's embarrassed hand moved over the mantelpiece at the text: What do you know why? I will win. Just watched recap of #CrookedHillary's speech. There was a disaster for jobs and national security briefings in that it was in the state of Rhode Island—In addition to winning the Electoral College is much different!
2 MILLION.
Crooked Hillary will never change. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Percentage of salted horses. We will all come together as friends, as stated by Bernie S, she has very bad judgement.
Amazing crowd last night to a very nice congratulations.
Lyin' Ted Cruz will never reform Wall Street.
—Tell me now, leaving soon for BIG rally in Cincinnati is ON. Good timing, I will be fun!
I drove him into oblivion! Crooked Hillary Clinton was not qualified to be a teacher, I have rebel blood in me too, sweetened with tea and jam, their BLOOD, SWEAT AND TEARS was a tale like any other too often heard, their meek heads poised in air: lord Hastings' Repulse, the garish sunshine bleaching the honey of his lips. I, these gestures. By a woman stands up to you If the Republican Party. Big speech tomorrow with Bobby! Sixpences, halfcrowns.
He leaned back and get more than any in the U.S. sells Taiwan billions of dollars can and will be leaving my great honor-they would be catastrophic for the smooth caress. —I just released my financial disclosure forms, the duke of Westminster's Shotover, the vying caps and jackets and past the meatfaced woman, a butcher's dame, nuzzling thirstily her clove of orange. A long look from dark eyes, a faint hue of shame flickering behind his dull skin.
He knew the dishonours of their tyranny: tyrants, willing to be even worse. Finally, in her heart. China Sea? —Tarentum, sir.
Across the page with a much more to follow.
Well? Big crowd. The movement toward a country that WINS again continues In just out: 31 million people have no basis in fact I am not only fighting Crooked Hillary speak.
Mr Henry Blackwood Price.
Our cattle trade.
The endorsement of the fees their papas pay. Crooked Hillary will not allow the FBI to study or see its computer info after it a rattling chain of phlegm. Their eyes grew bigger as the lines were repeated.
See.
—I fear those big words, Mr Deasy said gravely. —I don't believe sources said, gathering the money I raised/gave! He came to the others, Stephen answered, shrugging his shoulders.
Wherever they gather they eat up the nation's vital strength. Grain supplies through the narrow waters of the great workers of that wonderful state.
I think.
—This is the matter into a nutshell, Mr Dedalus, he began—I just released e-mails, resignation of boss and the great people of our two major parties would take that kind—and make everyone less safe. Soft day, your honour! Vladimir Putin said today about Hillary and myself, should not happen! What then? A whirring whistle.
Waiting always for a meeting of the path. —The Evening Telegraph—That reminds me, sir?
And you can get it!
Thanks Carrier I will help him in his fight. AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!
Lal the ral the ra, the sun never sets. Wow, Lyin' Ted Cruz, who shut down roads/doors during my RALLIES, are now, Stephen said, turning his little savingsbox about in his hand moved over the mantelpiece at the poverty, crime and educational statistics. I am running against the Washington insiders, just like we will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Please remember, I will fix U.S. Hillary Clinton's open borders etc. That’s why ICE endorsed me at 12:00 A.M. Four more years!
Change!
—I will help him in her heart. My thoughts and prayers are with you, he said solemnly, what city sent for him? Thought is the form of forms.
Do you know anything about Pyrrhus? Hoping the hurricane dissipates, but any business that leaves our country. Why has nobody asked Kaine about the foot a crooked signature with blind loops and a blot. —I know, I would have been possible seeing that they never were? We have committed many errors and many for a false ad on me concerning women when her husband in charge of the keyboard slowly, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, as usual, Hillary Clinton.
For Ulster will be making my announcement on Friday at 11am in Manhattan with my children, Don King, just like Crooked Hillary Clinton will be right.
There should be, Helen, the garish sunshine bleaching the honey of his mind.
Their sharp voices were in strife. Stephen said, which make us so unhappy.
Gabble of geese.
—For the moment, Mr Deasy said, is not about Mr. Khan, who is railing against my visit to Mexico. Miami. This is good for Mexico!
So I raised/gave $5,600,000 jobs added.
Enjoy! Old England is dying. Well?
Hillary will not remain here very long at this work. He brought out of the infinite possibilities they have ousted. —Kingstown pier, sir. He held out his rare moustache Mr Deasy said firmly, was unable to beat a failed Senator like goofy Elizabeth Warren, who have not heard any of the world, a big part of my days. Mock his heritage and much lower rates!
Fabled by the horns. I've missed. —Why, sir. Some laughed again: mirthless but with the great teacher. If youth but knew the rancours massed about them and fettered they are lodged in the dark palaces of both our hearts: secrets weary of their benches, leaping them. Ohio has never recovered.
I was a total waste of time. Biggest trade deficit in many polls, and then thinks it will only get higher.
I can’t make a deal. The harlot's cry from street to street shall weave old England's windingsheet.
Mitt Romney was campaigning with John Kasich has just blown up. Emperor's horses at Murzsteg, lower Austria.
He knew what money was, Mr Deasy cried.
He leaned back and get out! We need unity & leadership.
And as he screwed up the drum of his master, indulged and disesteemed, winning a clement master's praise. Do you know why? To come to the air oldly before his voice spoke. —I am a struggler now at the end of Pyrrhus?
FIX! He came to pass?
Congratulation to Jane Timken on her e-mail investigation is rigged! The media lies to make a statement, they are wanderers on the earth, listened, scraped and scraped. The only true thing in life?
I saw his speech two hours early but let him speak anyway.
Look what is happening all over.
A long look from dark eyes, a soft stain of ink, a butcher's dame, nuzzling thirstily her clove of orange. —Where do you mean? That's why.
Mr Deasy said, strapping and stowing his pocketbook away. He slaughtered clubgoers. Amor matris: subjective and objective genitive. —Yes, sir. Day! Then to Pennsylvania for a word of help his hand.
To come to the border. This election is a winner! Crooked Hillary should be.
—I am the one sin. —Very good.
A poor soul to go elsewhere Inner-city crime is reaching record levels. Lyin' Hillary, NOTHING. Why had they chosen all that part?
You can change your vote in the room of the fees their papas pay. Wherever they gather they eat up the drum to erase an error. If youth but knew. —After, Stephen said, strapping and stowing his pocketbook away.
Even the dishonest media will exclaim it to China in unprecedented act.
How can she run for the swearing in.
The debates, and rapidly getting worse. Running after me. From the playfield the boys raised a shout of nervous laughter to which their cries echoed dismay. —Who can answer a riddle? —No, sir. —There was a total mess our country. I said that I am happier than you are, he began. Also backed Jeb. In politics, and now she is nasty. This was a tale like any other too often heard, called me yesterday to denounce the false and unsubstantiated charges, and laid them carefully on the soft pile of the wind. This is for shillings. Their eyes grew bigger as the lines were repeated. A gruff squire on horseback with shiny topboots. #BigLeagueTruth #Debate Bernie Sanders is lying when he gave up on the first day he bargained with me here. President Obama trying to work up influence with the rest to go to Louisiana days ago. I will fix it!
There can be cured. —Not at all loyal to each other than the FBI that she will be having a press conference in more than any campaign in the lumberroom came the rattle of sticks and clamour of their letters, I know, sir? The love and enthusiasm in the Republican Nominee for President Clinton excoriates Crooked Hillary! They knew: had never learned nor ever been innocent. You, Armstrong, Stephen said, glancing at the text: Weep no more: the hollow knock of a wonderful and truly respected woman, a snail's bed. Will be there soon! Verdict: 450 wins, 38 losses. —You had better get your stick and go to Mexico today-wonderful leadership and high quality people! Do you understand how to win including failed run four years ago, was his motto. If they don't name the sources don't exist. Three times now.
Sixpences, halfcrowns. A hard one, am appalled that somebody that is before she found out the problem. Totally biased-hates Trump I hope. Just got back from Asheville, North Carolina, where I was going to try publicity.
—Hockey! A gruff squire on horseback with shiny topboots. Crooked didn't report she got more publicity than any other too often heard, called from the field his old man's stare. Outside, small group of people, we will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! But I am trying to work up influence with the smell of drab abraded leather of its chairs. The fox burying his grandmother under a serious emergency belongs! And here what will you learn more?
'Tis time for this poor soul to go up in America—she had fed him and then they are just made up nonsense to steal the election results.
Do you know that? Mr Deasy bade his keys. The dysfunctional system is rigged.
#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce#1922#automatically generated text#Patrick Mooney#Nestor#politics#American politics#presidential elections#21st century#Donald Trump#2016#2017
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The Conflict Within Myself - Track 10: Polaroid
****TRIGGER WARNING****
This post contains some mental health stuff that may be triggering to some readers. Viewer discretion is advised.
The most unfortunate part about experiencing severe mental distress is perhaps the fact that all too often, it leads to someone taking their own life; it leads to suicide. This song is about that, but it moreso explores the in’s and outs of the mentality of suicidality.
Many of the lyrics are on the nose in terms of meaning, and some kinda trigger me still, so I’ll just explain the story behind the song mostly.
All the conflict on this album leads to this moment. In 2017, I had experienced a mental health crisis the likes of which neither my family nor myself had ever experienced before. The Anxiety I had been feeling since the late 2000s grew more severe, literally crippling. The depression that had been a part of my life significantly since 2013 (insignificantly since 2009) had contorted my mind to an unrecognizable mass. The mood swings I had been having since 2014 had intensified to an unimaginable degree. By the time 2017 started, they all had it out for me, so to speak lolz! (humor helps when you’re talking about this) I knew something was up by mid-January, I became even more overworked, even more depressed that by March, for the first time since 2013 when they first appeared, I bagan having suicidal ideations. But this time, they were more incessant and disturbing (listen closely to the bridge of Polaroid. You’ll hear some of the things I heard in my head). I didn’t have much of a will to act on them, but they were wearing me down more rapidly (It’s much like the Titanic disaster! I hit the iceberg in 2009 around the time MJ died, I was slowly sinking from then to 2016, then the flooding accelerated exponentially in 2017! I love Titanic! She’s always there for me, and always knows what I’m going through! (look at my history: there are only 5 Titanic references in my first album because I was holding back... a lot)). As I went further through the second semester of my freshman year, the anxiety often kept me in bed for longer and longer periods of time. The mood swings, homework and guilt from not knowing how to help myself kept me up for hours (longest I stood up for was about 42+ hours or so. I don’t remember for sure lolz!). I looked up self help videos, but I felt they were only addressing the tentacles of a greater octopus I knew nothing about. By early May, I was almost home free from the semester and Logic’s 3rd album Everybody came out the week before Finals. Anticipation for that album (along with others) helped keep me going, honestly, and that album made me a fan for multiple reasons: One, got my attention when he released the title track in like what, March? Then the Diversity of Black SpiderMan gave me hope for the future. Now, I wouldn’t call myself a 1-800 fan because I knew about him before it came out and he sold me with Everybody’s title track a couple months before. However, that song was very timely for me as you might imagine. The track that really honestly single-handedly changed the course of my life was his song, Anziety, right after 1-800-273-8255 on the album. He described his first major panic attack, and I felt like he was saying the words I couldn’t. After hearing Anziety, I finished the semester believing that what I was going through was anxiety. After I got home, I told my mom and she took me to the doctor and his assistant suspected not only severe anxiety, but also quite severe depression (this was the first time someone brought up depression and me in the same breath and I happened to be taking it seriously. It happened one other time in 2015 during an extensive, autistic-friendly IQ test. Neither my mom nor myself put much stock in it. I sometimes wonder what could’ve been had we acted on that advice). I was broken. I thought that I had damaged myself beyond apparent repair with college, and I was given an antidepressant that day. My parents say that it seemed to be making the situation worse, so they took me off of it. I still argued that I needed some sort of serious help, but the most unfortunate thing about this whole predicament is that my parents knew I was hurting, but they didn’t understand the gravity of my situation. Don’t blame them. They thought I was going through a really rough phase. They did the best they could with what little they knew. I try not to hold that against them. No one should. Them not understanding successfully snuffed out any hope I had of being rid of this feeling. My depression got even worse (I’m saying this a lot, aren’t I?), to the point where I was literally suicidal literally almost every day. I felt invalidated, further misunderstood as if being autistic doesn’t already lend itself to that, and I began to seriously question whether God had forsaken me (I’ll say this, even the most passionate christians are subject to doubt in their relationship with God) “Why else would this be happening?” I thought. “This must be where the end of the line is for me.” I even asked God to kill me once because my parents wouldn’t hear me out time and again. The summer of 2017 brought with it many unsuccessful suicide attempts, and countless moments of planning how I would do it. Family vacation to Los Angeles that year was the worst I will ever have. I had to pretend to be okay for a week. Torture. While Titanic was sinking, her older sister Olympic was at sea as well (she even got her sister’s distress call), but she was about 500 nautical miles away from her, and unable to help. My sister got my drift, but she was more than twice that length away from me in grad school when all of this was happening. I can only imagine how hopeless both of them felt about their dying siblings.
The tide began to turn even less in my favor on the fateful day of Thursday, July 20th, 2017 when Chester, the lead singer of my favorite band of all time, Linkin Park, died by suicide (I say “died by suicide” because the word “commit” implies blame and passes unfair judgement on the person who died by suicide; making the assumption that they did that in selfishness, and should be blamed for hurting the ones they love. This is an astronomically misunderstood notion. I’m here to educate people, ya hear?). No single event had been more profound to me since the death of Michael Jackson in 2009. Chester’s death changed me. not only spiritually, but chemically as well. The mood swings I had been having earlier in the year came back with a vengeance. I was already kept awake by my anxiety/depression combo, but now I was barely sleeping at all! My highs were too high, my lows just as too low. I started hearing voices as well. I would even be happy at certain times, but I would be too happy, like inhumanly happy. And mostly, my happiness was fueled by my general acceptance of my despair. unhealthy at best. I went back to school against my will in August, and things only got worse. By October, I was pushed beyond my wit’s end, and I came the closest I had ever come to completing a suicide attempt (I reference the date, October 6th, 2017 in the song). I wrote what I’ll call an anti-suicide note after that attempt, begging my parents to get me a psychological evaluation that would logically lead to me getting the help I needed. ...And I’ll pick this story up later.
Polaroid was the hardest song to write of Conflict, and is also somewhat arguably the hardest song I ever had to write. I did it to give anyone who listens an exploration into the realm of suicidality because it is so misunderstood by so many people, even people who deal with it, and because no one was doing that to this degree (There’s been no shortage of songs on suicidality. However, very few of them peer into what’s going on inside the mind; moreso on the fact that it happened, and how it affected other people and things. The personal perspective is rarely heard from. I like what Evanescence did with Tourniquet, but I wanted to go further and barely reference actions as much as... thoughts. On 1-800-273-8255, Logic touches on the feelings and thoughts of the suicidal, but he provides a way out, thankfully. I wanted to give that very dark state of mind a voice without invalidating it with a happy ending). I wanted to put you, the listener, in a space where you could hear, where you could EXPERIENCE what so many suicidal people do feel/have felt in their heads. I didn’t want to give you an escape route of hope because that would distract from the vision and mission of the song (I could always make a 100% happy song later <3). Plus, I couldn’t write about it while it was happening, not while unaware of all the factors at play. It’s even hard to write about the song.
The title of Polaroid is special (I got into instant photography in early 2015 off the strength of the high I was on after Taylor Swift’s 1989 came out). Originally, I just wanted a song called polaroid on my album because Imagine Dragons had a song called Polaroid on Smoke and Mirrors and I thought it was such a great song name. But as “The Conflict Era” of my life reached its twilight months, another, deeper meaning came to mind. A Polaroid picture is made by light brought in from the camera interacting with chemicals in the Polaroids. Back in their (initial) prime, Polaroids, or Polaroid film, was made with various chemicals, some that are no longer considered safe for the workplace. We all know that, like vinyl records, Polaroids and instant photography as a whole began to almost disappear from the world as the 20th century came to a close. Then in the 2010s, Millennials and Gen Z picked them back up, and those industries followed suit. A key difference between the old polaroids and the new ones however, is that the new ones don’t have the chemicals that are considered unsafe now. When I wrote Polaroid, I found that the title actually is able to be connected with the song’s contents. An unused polaroid if you were to cut it open would be filled with a bunch of chemicals that many of you would find weird and gross if they got on your hands. They would become... undesirable to say the least. You’d almost certainly want to throw it away. When I was experiencing suicidal ideations,on top of everything else I was feeling that I mentioned before, I felt physically toxic, removed from my true autistic self by well-meaning people who encouraged/forced me to discourage my autistic traits and behaviors, and I felt undesirable to all around me, so I wanted to get rid of me, led by my conviction to make the world a better place. Thinking that I, along with all Autistic people and everyone else who felt misunderstood, discriminated against or forgotten, was/were what was wrong with the world, like the Jews were to Hitler. So... I guess Polaroid is also a commentary on the effects that taking someone out of who they are to naturally become can do to a person. Nasty stuff. I once said in a Facebook post something to the degree of, “Don’t remove people out of who they are, because they will remove themselves from here” as in this universe. Dang, that belongs on a shirt.
As with Paranoize is with my anxiety attacks, the story of Polaroid is really an amalgamation of all of my close calls with suicidality, expressed in one event, partly for dramatic effect, and even moreso in an effort to make the songs on this album more universal. The guitar riffs in the intro are like individual suicidal thoughts. It starts with one, then another, and another. Then, all those exponentially grow and become all too heavy for the soul and generally disturbing, like the instrumental gets once the 1st verse hits.
Along with being one of the hardest ever to write, I now think that Polaroid is also one of the best songs I’ve ever written. I think, in a very dark way, it has the whole package of a song of mine. It’s like Evan, but perfectly inverted. Because that’s what I was. Life-loving me, wanting to die. By my own hand. Literally.
The music speaks for itself. As does the rest of the song. Listen to it if you feel so inclined.
And please, stay alive for me. If not, for what you believe. Might wanna watch some Spongebob after reading this; cheer you up a little bit.
I love you. I really do.
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Top “13” Most Haunted U.S. Hotels
(Okay, so 1 in London makes 14, but 13 is spookier.) ? What’sa Matta? U Scurrd? Attention ghost busters and wobbly-kneed chickens, alike. Behold! Here’s your access to the haunted list of lists. Enter at your own risk … Muuuuahahahahaha! Stanley Hotel | Estes Park, Colorado Red Rum!Haunted events have been recorded at the Stanley Hotel since 1911. It was then that housekeeper Ms. Elizabeth Wilson was shocked during a lightning storm. Room 217, where it happened, has become a hotbed for paranormal activity. She may or may not think she is the “gate keeper.” Wha? You say this place looks familiar? Better tighten those boot straps, Pardner. The Stanley was made famous in the movie “The Shining.” And even before the movie, it was known for a deep connection to the paranormal. Haunted events have been recorded at the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, Colorado, as far back as 1911. Be sure to ask for Room 217 (so we don’t have to). Red Rum … Red Rum … Bourbon Orleans Hotel | New Orleans The grand, historic Bourbon Orleans Hotel originally opened in 1827 as a ballroom for glamorous events. By the late 1800s the hotel was acquired by the Sisters of the Holy Family. Their idea was to use it as a school, orphanage, medical ward, and convent. It was then that the yellow fever epidemic struck and leading to the death of many children. It’s said that the ghosts of children and nuns can be seen and heard throughout the hotel. Additionally, there have been several reports of a ghost dancer in the famous Orleans Ballroom. You can book a Ghosts & Spirits Walking Tour, which stops at the Bourbon Orleans Hotel during your visit to New Orleans. Let the creeping begin! Emily Morgan | San Antonio Emily Morgan HotelHoused in a historic neo-Gothic building with a reputation for paranormal activity, the 177-room boutique Emily Morgan Hotel has a prime downtown location across from the Alamo. It also at one time was a medical facility, so the property housed a morgue and a psychiatric ward. Reports of unexplained noises, apparitions, and the feeling of being touched (go ahead and book now if you like) are fairly frequent. If you want to up your chances of a paranormal encounter, book a room on the seventh, ninth, eleventh, or twelfth floors. Also, as a nod to the hotel’s notoriety for paranormal activity, the on-site Oro Restaurant and Bar offers a Psychic Happy Hour with palm readings on Thursday nights – if you DARE! Omni Parker House | Boston Steeped in history, stuffed with ghost lore, and teeming with old-world grandeur, the surprisingly affordable Omni Parker House is the place to stay for a taste of Boston’s literary and political past. The original hotel opened in 1855 and was run by founder Harvey Parker until his death in 1884. Many guests have reported seeing him in their guest rooms, where he’s asked about their stay. After a businessman died in room 303, there were multiple reports of laughter and the smell of whiskey. Stephen King’s short story 1408, which was made into a movie with John Cusack, centers on a writer who experiences a haunted stay at a New York hotel; the story was based on the supernatural activity in room 303. If you plan on staying, do not watch the movie. In fact, you should probably steer clear anyway. It is terrifying … you’re welcome. Langham Hotel | London Not in U.S. – more than creepy enough for this list One of the more notable historical hotels in London, the Langham Hotel has been around since 1865 — when it opened as the city’s first purpose-built luxury hotel. The hotel is a frequent place of lodging for celebrities and royals, and apparently, ghosts. Guests have reported seeing the apparition of a German prince, a German solider and a doctor who murdered his wife and then killed himself on their honeymoon, among others. The spirit of Emperor Napoleon III, who lived at the Langham during his last days in exile, has also been said to occupy the basement. Room 333 is supposedly the most haunted of the guest rooms and is available for booking for any brave travelers and, of course, the unbeknownst (insert creepy laughter here.) The Marshall House | Savannah Built in 1851, the charming 68-room Marshall House accommodated Union soldiers during the Civil War — and some guests say their spirits still walk the hallways. The oldest hotel in Savannah, it also acted as a hospital three times (always a red flag for hotel conversions) — once for soldiers and twice for yellow fever epidemic victims. During renovations, workers found human remains under the floorboards from long-ago surgeries when the ground was frozen and nothing could be buried. In addition to seeing ghosts throughout the property, guests report hearing children run down the halls, faucets turning on by themselves, and the rattling of doorknobs. The Hay-Adams | Washington D.C. Another spooky thing about Washington Quite possibly the most famous hotel in the capital, The Hay-Adams has hosted many a politician, including the Obamas before inauguration. In 1884, best friends John Hay (Abraham Lincoln’s private secretary and later a Secretary of State) and Henry Adams (the author, and descendant of John Quincy) built their homes on the plot of land where the hotel now sits. In 1927, nine years after Adams’ death, the houses were razed and replaced by the hotel that stands today. Adams’ wife, Marian Hooper Adams, committed suicide on the site in 1885 and her spirit reportedly haunts the hotel. Guests and staff say they can hear a woman crying softly, disembodied voices, and doors opening and closing on their own. Hotel Sorrento | Seattle Built at the turn of the 20th century, the upscale Hotel Sorrento is an iconic Seattle boutique property. It’s said that the ghost of Alice B. Toklas, a woman credited with the invention of pot brownies, can often be seen roaming the halls, particularly around room 408 (you would think it would be 420). Guests have also reported their drinks being moved at the Dunbar Room. To honor her, they have a Ms. Toklas cocktail on the menu that includes lucid absinthe, elderflower, chamomile, honey, and lemon juice — so you can get both a trick and a treat at the Sorrento. Of course, all of this could just be absinthe related … Hotel Provincial | New Orleans What isn’t a little haunted in French Quarter? The two-story Hotel Provincial — with 94 rooms in the historic French Quarter — is a retreat into old New Orleans. Like many New Orleans properties, it also claims to be a popular paranormal activity hub. Like other area hotels, the property acted as a medical facility for wounded confederate soldiers and is said to still possess their spirits. From distressed soldiers and operating doctors to pools of blood, guests have reported it all. If actually staying at the property seems too spooky, it’s also a stop on many walking ghost tours of the city. 11. Omni Shoreham | Washington D.C. Built in 1930, the Omni Shoreham Hotel has echoing ceilings, grand chandeliers, and an allegedly haunted suite. The Ghost Suite, a two-bedroom apartment-style suite with a full kitchen, is reportedly haunted; spirits of the original owner, his daughter, and the housekeeper supposedly linger here. Both the housekeeper, Juliette, and the owner’s daughter, Helen, died in the suite. Once the family was gone, reports of unexplained noises, lights being turned on, and the feeling of someone running by, were made. Travelers can book the suite if they’re looking for the chance of a paranormal encounter – or just need someone to jog with, indoors. Le Pavilion | New Orleans Another New Orleans HauntOften called by many locals “The Belle of New Orleans.” The Le Pavilion Hotel offers guests turn-of-the-century charm in the heart of downtown Haunted New Orleans. At one point a few years ago the hotel management hired several local paranormal investigators. They identified several ghosts in the hotel and recorded EVP’s saying “Please, get out” and “Hold on I see you now.” Another team said they documented 100+ individual ghost and haunted hotspots in the hotel. A third team said this hotel was actually a portal to the other side. We hope you don’t accidentally walk through THAT door. Crescent Hotel & Spa | Eureka Springs Guests who want an extra scare can take a nightly ghost tour of the Crescent. And you may want to. This historic Victorian-style claims to be “America’s most haunted hotel.” Members of Historic Hotels of America can watch ghost videos and even learn about Eureka Springs’ unusual history. The “fun” peaks during Paranormal Weekend, a three-day, hands-on paranormal investigation event in January. It even includes and everybody is welcome ghost hunt. While completely unrelated, the French Onion Soup is said to be excellent. Queen Mary | Long Beach We’re Just Gonna Take Their Word for ItThis historic ocean liner in Long Beach is considered one of the most haunted places in the the nation, and even beyond. Visitors can sign up for special haunted twilight tours of the Queen Mary. A guide will take you through the ship, right to the supposed paranormal epicenters. Some visitors claim to experience the ghost of a dead sailor. Others say they see children who drowned in the pool or a woman in white. The Queen Mary’s tours even include séances, for the bravest guests. There is even an option for “dining with the spirits.” Want to save big on your up coming trips? Of course you do. We can HELP YOU BIG TIME at club.mustdotravels.com The post Top “13” Most Haunted U.S. Hotels appeared first on Must Do Travels.
https://www.mustdotravels.com/top-13-haunted-u-s-hotels/
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Amessett Springs Cast
Amessett Springs: A lovely little seaside town with a few...odd residents.
Warning: Long Post ! This is Part One, dealing with the current families!
The Jarrells
Marcie Jarrell
36 years old. Born October 16th.The owner and operator of Oceanview Daycare with a love for teaching and a soft spot for kids.
Marcie comes from a town in the mountains that's pretty far from her current home. She grew up with her older sister, and the two of them were raised by their mother. Marcie and her sister had the ambition to see the ocean in person someday, however they weren't the wealthiest family, so all three of them worked hard to support each other. Despite the difficult times they lived in, the three of them were happy together. When Marcie's sister was old enough to be married, she suddenly left the household without a word, leaving Marcie and her mother to fend for themselves. Marcie pushed herself twice as hard to help pick up the slack, and ended up missing several days of school just to work.
When Marcie became an adult, her mother urged her to see the world beyond their small mountain town. She even gave Marcie a train ticket to a town far away from their home on her birthday just to make her point. Marcie was reluctant to leave her mother, but eventually she moved away. She took the money she had saved up over the years with her, and bought herself an apartment.
Since taking care of people was something that was natural to her, Marcie was determined to establish a daycare to help kids. She worked a few jobs, ranging from a teacher, to a secretary, to a waitress in order to make enough to achieve her dream. Once she made enough, she was adamant about having it on or near the beach, and luckily she got her request.
Marcie met Marnie when her daycare was just beginning to gain popularity. She stumbled across a frightened little girl who was desperate to find somewhere to stay for the night. Marcie didn't hesitate to let her in, and she doesn't regret this decision. The little girl was reluctant to leave after her first couple of nights, and ever since, Marcie has taken care of her and loved her like a daughter.
Marnie “Gemini” Jarrell
11 years old. Born on September 3rd. Marcie's daughter. Seems to be haunted by something in her past.
Marnie is a very timid and shy girl. She's reluctant to trust people. She'll cling onto her mother, and she's very afraid of stepping outside of her comfort zone. She's protective of the things she loves,and will hide things in her memory box. When she's around people she feels safe around, she'll be willing to share things.
Marnie has no memory of her parents. All she can remember is living with a doctor who insisted that he was her father. The man called her "Gemini", and she grew to hate the name. She lived in the back of his clinic in a room that was always locked. She was terrified of that man, and never dared to defy him. As long as she stayed quiet, took her shots and took her medicine, she was safe. When her room door was unlocked, she would timidly come out into the open and quietly watch him work. She'd often see some...pretty horrifying things, and she'd cry once he was out of earshot. She had no clue as to where she was-- all she saw outside her tiny window were the woods. But she was determined to escape.
She dropped the syringe she was normally expected to take in her room, leading to the doctor furiously storming in to clean it up and refill it. While his back was turned, Marnie ran out of the clinic and into the forest. She didn't stop running until she couldn't hear his angry shouting anymore.
She ran until she came across an ocean town. Marnie was afraid that the doctor was still chasing her, so she tried to hide inside of an apartment complex. Marcie discovered Marnie outside, trembling and visibly shaken up. Marnie hesitantly took her offer, and since then, she's lived with Marcie and reveres her as her mother.
Marnie currently helps her mother out in the Oceanview Daycare. She works with the smaller children. The little kids call her "Big Sister", and she'll often play with them and take them on scavenger hunts on the beach. She loves Marcie to death, and even changed her name to match hers. She wants her mother to be happy, and hopes that she'll get to be a flower girl in her future wedding.
The Hills
Hazel Hill
24 years old. Born on March 20th-- the oldest out of the two. An aspiring graphic novelist who is quite frankly, a nervous wreck.
Hazel tends to keep to herself. She's quite shy, and she's prone to overthinking things which causes her not to say a word to anybody she's unfamiliar with. She doubts herself constantly, but she's passionate about her novel and will (hesitate to, but ultimately) show her work to people who are interested. When she finds something she likes, she tends to obsess about it and put every ounce of her energy into it. She's a bit of a neat freak, but she can never keep her room clean-- unfinished drafts, homework, and empty bowls are everywhere.
Hazel goes to school at St. Helena's University, a school that's located in a city outside of Amessett Springs. She takes the bus to school, and stays on campus until she's done with all of her classes. She'll normally be back home from Thursday to Sunday. She'll often complain about how expensive things are in the city, and will sneak food and drinks from home back to college.
Harper Hill
24 years old. Born on March 20th-- the youngest out of the two. A health junkie who's in charge of her family's general store.
Harper is very outgoing. She has a reputation for being a bit of a busy bee, and she certainly aims to please. She's very serious about her health, and is often seen running around town. Eager to drag people into doing this with her, she tends to go overboard when doing things she likes. However, she's good at reading the mood, and if it's in her power, she'll work towards improving the situation.
When she's not working the front counter or working out, Hazel is at school. But all of her classes are online, so she gets her homework done before or after work.
The Wolfes
Alice Wolfe
46 years old. Born on February 28th.The curator of the local history museum who's a bit old-fashioned in her ways.
A very softspoken woman, it seems easy to step all over her. However, underneath her docile and motherly appearance, she can certainly fend for herself. She can be quite brutal when angered-- a trait that her husband adores about her. She's able to assume her former persona very quickly, as if nothing happened at all..
Alice moved into Amessett Springs with her family when she was in middle school. She moved away briefly for college, eventually returning once she graduated, bringing Lorenzo home with her.
Alice has been the museum's curator for 14 years,and since then, has acquired a taste for antiques.
Lorenzo Wolfe
50 years old. Born on April 1st. A mechanic with a bit of a history. Tough on the outside, but loves and spoils his family to death.
Lorenzo comes off as a bit abrasive when you first meet him, but underneath his tough exterior, he's quite the softie-- especially when it comes to his family. Has a reputation for being a troublemaker in his youth, but seems to have mellowed out with age.
Lorenzo grew up with a big family. He grew up with 3 sisters and 4 brothers, placing him as the 3rd oldest of 8. His family is from an extremely frigid area, so the shift from the snow to the sunny climate of Amessett Springs was quite the shift. He met Alice when she was a senior in college, and was utterly smitten with her. They dated for few years before ultimately getting married, and moving back to Amessett Springs.
When he's not working, Lorenzo can be found around town fixing appliances for the other residents, or with his daughter.
Marilyn “Merry” Wolfe
12 years old. Born August 11th. Alice and Lorenzo's daughter. Rarely seen without crayons or a paintbrush in hand.
Marilyn is a big ball of energy. Anyone who befriends her is bound to get caught up in her antics. She's very artistic, and she loves to draw. Painting seems to be her favorite medium so far, and she'll spend hours painting in her room.
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One way text chain
Saturday March 11th, 2017: Spring break. We got down there late in the night, you weren’t feeling the best. A bit of a headache. We went to sleep, gearing up for the McGuire's 5k the next morning.
Sunday March12th, 2017: We did the 5k. You were on cloud 9 until the alcohol-induced high wore off hours after the party. A trip to the clinic and some medication had you back at the condo sleeping like the devil himself put you under.
Monday, March 13th, 2017: We picked up Cassidy. You said all you needed was the caffeine injection of coffee into your bloodstream, that the nausea and headache had been from withdrawal. We went grocery shopping and chilled for the rest of the day. Smoked a little, and relaxed, your pain behind us.
Tuesday, March 14th, 2017: You went back to the ER, hopefully, to get better.
Thursday, March 15th, 2017: This was a rough day. You spent 6 hours in an ER, violently ill, waiting for a doctor to see you. Nothing was improved, and they basically treated you like you were some stupid spring breaker who had drunk too much. We spent the day without, I felt like an outsider. I missed you...
Friday, March 17th, 2017: You spent the entire day heaving over the toilet in your parent's house. Not a word from you. You didn’t sleep at the condo the night before. We were nearing the last few days of our trip, and the only moment you had gotten to enjoy was the morning of the 5k. We were contemplating having to go back without you because you were so ill.
Sunday, March 19th, 2017: We left without you. We were told by your mother that you were up and even keeping down some food. It’s more than has been in your stomach for five days. A few more days of recovery and then you would be home again with me and back to work. Only a few more days.
Monday, March 20th, 2017: It has been a day since we got back, you went back to the hospital. More waiting, they just don't seem to know what the hell is going on. This is a different hospital, your mom thought it would be quicker and more revealing as to what the hell was going on. I didn’t know this would be the last time we texted.
Thursday, March 23rd, 2017: I hadn’t heard from you in a few days. Nothing from your parents either. It is well past when you were supposed to be back up here. I still didn’t know how serious it had gotten.
Wednesday, April 5, 2017: You’ve been in the hospital for a few days now. You are comatose, quickly losing weight, and they have no fucking clue what is happening. I have been added to several text chains by your mother, and I am being kept in the loop. But it all feels like a dream, I still don't really believe this has happened. Your parents are grilling me for any little clue as to what might have happened... I have no fucking idea. I'm numb.
Saturday, May 27th, 2017: School is getting more difficult, we are starting to talk about what we should do with your apartment. You are getting better... you aren’t at risk of dying anyway... at least that’s what we thought. Your heart has stopped 3 times now... it felt like my own was stopping too. The world is spinning so fast for me and it isn’t fair because it’s not spinning at all for you.
Tuesday, June 6th, 2017: It has been three months since things first started happening. You are out of the hospital, finally. But things have intensified so so much... You can’t talk, walk, move your arms... you nearly died. They have put you into a rehabilitation center, you are improving every day.
Sunday, June 11th, 2017: There hasn’t been much change. You are still doing aggressive therapy, your parents are being amazing. Videos and pictures have been shared high and low in the group chat for you. Everyone is trying to stay upbeat. It looks like you are improving so quickly! It’s been so long since I heard your voice, or got a text from you. It feels like I am on an island alone
Thursday, June 22nd, 2017: It’s amazing how much you have improved in these few days. It seems like the light is blaring in front of us and the end is in sight. But of course, it always goes away. The anger is building in me, reaching its crescendo and I don't know what will happen when I snap. You aren’t there to guide me down, and I'm not there to help you rise... it’s all fucked up. But I'm trying to stay positive.
Sunday, August 6th, 2017: A lot of shit has happened. You went back to the hospital twice. Once for pneumonia, and once for seizures. Both times I feared I would get a call that your heart had stopped again. Your rats died... That fucker you called a roommate let them starve to death. I release some of that pent-up rage on him, it felt good. I'm fucking terrified to see you.
Tuesday, August 29th, 2017: That was a really fucking rough week for me, and for you. You were so aggressive, so “fuck the world let me die”. It broke my fucking heart. I'm back home but I feel so lost without you. You are getting so angry, and who the fuck can blame you? This whole thing is the plot to some twisted Stephen King book.
Sunday, September 10th, 2017: Haley left Java right after I got back from seeing you. That means I am the only manager right now. We lost half our staff to college.... I'm working every single day and school started back up. I'm running on fumes right now. I haven’t called, I feel so bad but I literally have no fucking time. You are still improving, but it’s slowing down. It has me worried... I'm a pessimist... what if you don't come back? What if I haven’t done enough to help you?
Saturday, October 14th, 2017: I don't even know anymore, I feel like a fucking bomb. It’s all garbage. There’s been a hurricane, regression, aggression, loneliness... I haven’t called still. I'm an ass. I'm alone. You’re alone.... What is the fucking point? And you know the best fucking part about this whole thing? They NEVER EVEN FIGURED OUT WHAT HAPPENED! How this happened... what the fuck nearly killed you....
Sunday, November 4th, 2017: It’s been 9 fucking months since all of this shit happened. 9 months without you. 9 months of you being trapped in physical hell. They were so fucking optimistic... 1-2 years and she’ll be good as new. And you are making SO much progress, but you are so damn stubborn. You are regressing, and what the fuck are we supposed to do to fix it? To help you understand that you are getting so much better? I'm coming to see you in March, we are going to re-walk the 5k that started all of this shit, even if I have to wheel you down the road myself.
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Day 10
Thursday 4/20
Today I was set to explore the 19th arrondissement. I slept in by accident until 11, though. I admit it's nice not being on a real schedule with consequences for oversleeping so that I can give my body what it needs when it needs it. I left the house a little after noon and took the metro to the Stalingrad stop - not the closest to my ultimate destination, but at the head of a canal I wanted to walk along. It was a sunny, but windy, walk along the canal, with a good amount of others out on their lunch breaks. There were some cafes lining the canal, then some dusty shaded park area took over. There, the cafes moved onto barges - clearly not going anywhere, but barges all the same. None of the ones I passed looked open, but I was at least a little enchanted by the idea. I do intend to take a bateau-mouche at some point, one of the Seine tour boats. But for now, I kept walking. The park provided ping-pong tables where some teenage boys were playing, and further along a couple of kids were practicing juggling - early stages, by the look of it.
A moment here to discuss street art: it is impossible for me to photograph or even take notes on all, or even a fraction, of the public art I see. Some is graffiti, some is clearly installed by the city, some I really can't tell. But it is everywhere, and it is largely high-quality. Paint, chalk, tile, posters, stickers, stencils, sharpie. Plenty of humor, and some thought-provoking questions ("What is your France?" lettered just outside our front door). But whenever you visualize me here, know that if I am outside in public space, I am greeted by new visual art every few steps.
Today's primary location, though, was more dedicated to the aural arts. The Paris Philharmonic is part of a big complex of performance spaces and exhibition halls in the 19th arrondissement. There is a museum of science and industry, the Paris orchestra hall, and some other venues. But the Philharmonic itself hosts the Musée de la Musique - the Museum of Music. I approached via a large, open court centered on a lovely yellow stone fountain, and followed the signs for the museum. The ticket line was clearly suited for concert ticket sales, and the museum entrance was tucked a little ways back and to the side - clearly not the main attraction in this building, but I found it didn't suffer for all that.
Once I bought my ticket (again something like $8 full price, I will never stop marveling at and highlighting how fucked up it is that museums/zoos in the US charge $25-50 because our government hates science/education/independent learning and won't subsidize them) and found the proper entrance, I was handed a headset with an attached device, about the size of a smartphone but twice as thick. This was my free audioguide. Both it and the woman who taught me to use it spoke English. Strangely, she admonished me to be certain to wear my messenger bag on my side? I was unlikely to bump anything with it unintentionally, but I acquiesced regardless.
The museum is divided roughly by century, starting with the 17th. It is laser-focused for the first three floors on France and its neighbors, then hastily includes the rest of the world close to the end. But for what it is, I was very impressed. The exhibits are primarily historical instruments accompanied by videos and audio clips produced by the museum. Each subsection of a floor is typically headed by an educational or informational audio clip about the instrument, opera, or concept at hand, followed by optional clips of some of the different instruments being played, and 1-3 videos of interviews with historians, the instrument's manufacturing process, or re-creation of an event. For example, the very first exhibit is about Orfeo (Orpheus) by Monteverdi, a very early opera that made a big step toward defining the genre. You are greeted by a layout of artifacts representing what the orchestra that played at Orfeo's premiere might have looked like. There is a small maquette or diorama of what the venue looked like, and a video you can sync up your audioguide with telling you some of the context leading up to that first performance. You can then listen to two or three of the displayed instruments played solo by some savant who knows how to play a clavichord or positive organ correctly. Then, you can hear clips of the opera fully orchestrated and sung, narrated with a summary of the opera's events. This is all contained in about fifteen square feet, with a dozen more lit cases of vain, lovingly-embellished instruments jostling to be the next to absorb your admiration.
There is even more than music and instruments - though these exhibits are arranged by people who REALLY KNOW INSTRUMENTS, and the ornamentation on almost everything has to be seen to be believed. I was delighted to see a few painted representations of Saint Cecilia, my birthday saint in the Catholic tradition (I am definitely not Catholic) and the patron saint of music. She looked holy and weird, as saints so often do, eyes staring into the distance or at the ceiling in a trance. I learned about the birth of musical notation and its transition over hundreds of years, starting with ninth-century monks' squiggles indicating "it goes up here" and "it gets a little wobbly at these words." I listened to every available audio clip and watched every video on the first floor, though not all the way through some of the solo performances. It took me over ninety minutes, and I was so very happy. I bathed myself in beautiful, unfamiliar sounds (because they will play you shit you will never ever hear of anywhere else but that really deserves to be heard). It felt like I was floating through a cave of treasures, each object longing to tell me its secrets. I immediately knew I had made the right decision about where to spend my day. I'm not a musician, nor am I particularly well-educated about music, classical or otherwise. But as a pleasure-seeker, this museum indulged my ears in a way that not many places can, or even try to. All this on the first floor.
I decided to restrict my explorations a little more and just listen to the the educational clips for the most part. The videos still captivated me, though. Fortunately, the museum was rather empty for most of my visit, so I seldom had to jockey for a good viewpoint. It also looked like it would be very accessible to people with restrictions on their physical mobility, except maybe the fourth floor (which was pretty boring anyway, 20th century). The second floor was the 18th century, filled with virginals, guitars, viols and their relations, horns, transverse flutes, tons of other woodwinds. There was a strange item known as a "regale" that sounded a lot like electronica. Later, country instruments came into vogue like the bagpipes, the hurdy-gurdy, and the tambourine. They had many examples of all of these, a line of harps six or seven deep. And again, nothing here was plain or industrial. Everything begs to be looked at. I saw a video of how horns are made by hand, I learned about the economic impact that the guitar's emergence had on some small towns in Germany.
At one point, I heard the blats of a trumpet cut through the sound coming out of my headphones. At the far end of the second-floor hall I was in, a woman was sitting on a small stage addressing an audience. I made my way slowly towards her, not skipping anything that interested me. I'd read that live performances happened in the museum from time to time - perhaps this was one? But no, she was really engaging in conversation and dialogue with the audience members. Sadly, it was all conducted in French, at native speaker speed, so I could only comprehend scraps of it. But I understood that she was comparing the bugle she had to the trumpet she also had. At one point she demonstrated the uses of all the different caps you might see on the bell of a trumpet. Another time, juxtaposing the differing tones of the instruments, she played one out of each side of her mouth. I think she probably sat there for two hours or more, explaining, answering questions, and tending to her audience like a professional performer. One of my fears did come to pass, in that she asked a question of several people around the room, including me; but I speak more than enough French to say that I don't speak French, and she treated me gracefully. And then she played a bit of Blue Moon, and I forgot all about it.
I moved on to the third floor, hearing some Debussy compositions I hadn't heard before, seeing a number of portraits and landscapes. I was getting a bit fatigued by this point, though still feeling in high spirits. There was a bit on Stravinsky and the Rite of Spring, and then later some very cool video footage of Stravinsky conducting The Firebird. As I proceeded into the 20th century, things started to get weird. They had things on display like theremins and an ondes Martenot. Further on there was a theremin that was there to be played by visitors, my first time using one. It's hard to play, like, Twinkle Twinkle on it, because there is no way to stop the tone from emitting. This floor also was a bit harder to navigate, the walkways became thinner and the displays less orderly. But that's thematically in line with what happened to formal music in the twentieth century, I think, and perhaps purposeful as far as the design went.
The fifth and final section was basically the "world music" section, which I found pretty disappointing. There was a selection of items from former French colonies in Africa, a set of large percussive instruments from Thailand, some string instruments from India. I don't have a quibble with the collection itself, but rather with the treatment of this area. There were not a lot of videos or descriptive audio clips explaining the history, evolution, or context of these instruments, likely because the academics at this museum do not study these objects with the same specialization and focus as they do European instruments. Why separate them out and put them at the end, when visitors are likely to be fatigued and walk right by them? Why not array them with other instruments like them, and let visitors compare their sounds again ones Europeans are likely already familiar with? I'm hardly surprised, but was bummed to see white supremacy and xenophobia turn up in an otherwise quality museum and kill a perfectly good enrichment opportunity.
Emerging back into the sunny day around 5pm, I checked in with Beck, who was planning to stay at work a little longer. So I headed for a park I had picked out. But truth be told, I think I'm going to be knocking parks off my to-do list for now. I usually get there and think, great, I'm here, now what. I seem to prefer places where there is more guided activity. I have also typically just taken a walk to get to the park, so it seems silly to then take a second walk in the designated walk location when I could instead spend that foot effort getting to something else of interest. This probably does not apply to things like the Jardin des Plantes or the Tuileries or the like, particularly beautiful gardens, but on my own, I probably won't visit many parks unless they contain something I'm excited about.
Eventually I turned around and headed home to make dinner with Beck - stir-fry and whatever grains I made yesterday. We put endives in it, which was slightly weird because of their bitterness, but it worked out in the end. We heard about the Champs-Elysees shooting late in the day, since we don't watch French news, and let our people know we were okay.
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Patriots are ending the Tom Brady era in style
Tom Brady is turning 40 and the end of his career is on the horizon, so the Patriots aren’t playing around.
At the end of summer, Tom Brady will celebrate his 40th birthday. And while there hasn’t been any reason to believe that Brady’s career is tailing off, the reality is that his time in the NFL is nearly over.
The New England Patriots aren’t going to waste those years.
On Thursday, the team opened up the pocketbooks in a way it rarely does to sign former Buffalo Bills cornerback Stephon Gilmore on a five-year $65 million deal and keep linebacker Dont’a Hightower on a four-year, $43.5 million contract.
But the biggest eye-opener was when the Patriots pulled off a trade Friday that will give Brady one of the NFL’s most dangerous deep threats: Brandin Cooks.
How much longer will Brady play? Most quarterbacks would’ve been done by now, but at age 39, Brady led the Patriots to a fifth Super Bowl victory and was in the thick of the MVP race with 28 touchdowns and two interceptions.
Brett Favre, Warren Moon, and Vinny Testaverde are the only quarterbacks to ever start more than eight games after turning 40. No matter how much Brady reminds Patriots safety Devin McCourty of Benjamin Button, the end of the quarterback’s career is on the horizon.
So the Patriots are gearing up to squeeze another Super Bowl run out of the best quarterback they’ve ever had.
How does Brandin Cooks fit?
Cooks is worth the first-round selection and swap of mid-round picks it cost to acquire him. At only 23 years old, he already has back-to-back 1,100-yard seasons under his belt with 20 career touchdowns.
He’s among the fastest players in the NFL and one of the most dangerous deep threats:
Brandin Cooks will get a lot of interest if on the trade market. Since 2014 Cooks has 11 TD grabs of 30 yards or more. Only Odell has more
— trey wingo (@wingoz) March 2, 2017
Bill Belichick was rumored to be interested in selecting Cooks in the 2014 NFL draft, but the New Orleans Saints traded up to grab the 20th overall pick and took the receiver nine picks before the Patriots were on the clock. Even after Cooks finished an underwhelming rookie year with only 550 receiving yards and three touchdowns, Belichick was convinced he would be dangerous.
"I'm glad we don't have to play him twice a year and he's not in our division," Belichick told the New Orleans Times-Picayune in August 2015. "He's a really good player."
Now Cooks goes to an offense that already has Julian Edelman, Rob Gronkowski, Danny Amendola, Chris Hogan, and Dion Lewis. Even without the contributions of Cooks, the Patriots were No. 3 in scoring offense and No. 4 in passing yards.
But the value of New England’s newest addition is his ability to run a “9 route.” Unlike a player like Edelman who will make big plays happen after the catch, Cooks’ greatest skill is running without the ball in his hands and taking the top off the defense before hauling in a deep ball.
It would simply be a waste if Cooks is in an offense that doesn’t rely on him to run by defensive backs and catch the ball more than 30 yards downfield. The Saints took full advantage of that, but Brady hasn’t always been too successful pushing the ball downfield.
He was below average in the category in 2015, but after spending an offseason focused on his deep ball mechanics, Brady was among the best in the NFL at passing deep in 2016. A similar performance at age 40 would be scary for the rest of the NFL, but there’s risk associated with giving up a first-round pick for a player who could be less valuable if Brady’s arm strength soon begins to fade.
The Patriots have rolled the dice on receivers in the past
Trading with the Patriots is widely considered to be a bad idea. The franchise is notorious for its swindling abilities and Belichick’s tendency to swap picks and players more than most.
But the reality is that New England loses trades all the time. The team is as willing as any to take risks, and it often doesn’t work out. Since Belichick took over for the Patriots in 2000, the team has made 124 trades, including three in the first two days of the 2017 league year.
A lot of those trades were complete flops for the Patriots. It wasn’t that long ago that the Patriots sent a fifth-round pick to the Cleveland Browns for Barkevious Mingo — a pass rusher who did absolutely nothing for the Patriots in 2016 and left to join the Indianapolis Colts in free agency after one year in New England.
At the wide receiver position, the Patriots have been especially fond of trades. In 2007, New England sent second- and seventh-round picks to the Miami Dolphins for Wes Welker and then picked up Randy Moss from the Oakland Raiders for a fourth-round pick a month later.
The addition of tight end Martellus Bennett via a trade with the Chicago Bears that swapped third-day draft picks helped the team on its road to Super Bowl LI.
But the Patriots also traded for Chad Ochocinco, Doug Gabriel, and Tim Wright, who had mostly unsuccessful and brief tenures in New England.
At other positions, the Patriots came out winners in trades for Corey Dillon and Aqib Talib, but they missed on trades for Albert Haynesworth and Duane Starks.
Jimmy Garoppolo is looking more valuable than ever
‘Win some, lose some’ is just the game a team plays when it makes a bevy of trades. But the thing that the Patriots do best is sell their own players for high prices.
Richard Seymour, Deion Branch, Matt Cassel, and Drew Bledsoe were all traded for early selections, and Jamie Collins was swapped for a third-round pick during the 2016 season.
With Brady nearing the end of his NFL career, the Patriots have a quarterback ready to take over in Jimmy Garoppolo. But the former second-round pick may be able to recoup more in a trade than any other player Belichick has ever sent away.
And that’s especially relevant after the trade for Cooks.
Following the deal that acquired the receiver from the Saints and a deal with the Carolina Panthers that netted the Patriots defensive end Kony Ealy, New England’s first pick in the 2017 NFL draft is the No. 72 pick.
The Patriots have gone without a first-round pick before, but the franchise has never in its history gone without first- and second-round selections.
Meanwhile, the Cleveland Browns are in need of a quarterback and reportedly willing to part with top draft picks to get Garoppolo. According to Mary Kay Cabot of the Cleveland Plain-Dealer, the Patriots request for Cleveland’s No. 1 overall pick was rebuffed, but the Browns have plenty of other picks to work with.
The team has five selections in the first 65 picks of the draft — all ahead of the Patriots’ first selection. And the Browns have three picks in the second round of the 2018 NFL draft too.
Simply put: The Patriots have a quarterback they’re not using (for now) and no good draft picks, and the Browns need to find a quarterback with their many draft picks.
Cooks is a big swing by the Patriots, who look more willing than ever to shoot for the moon with Brady’s career winding down.
New England has never shied away from taking risks, historically, but sending away a first-round pick for a player and spending another $65 million on a cornerback represents an urgency the franchise doesn’t often show: an urgency that could lead to more blockbuster moves for the Patriots soon and one of the NFL’s scariest offenses in 2017.
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Aeolous
K.M.A. K.M.R.I.A. RAISING THE DAY.
That's press. If Obama worked as hard on straightening out our country from certain areas, while our people and should not have liked them, enjoying a silence.
―Wild geese.
―Have you got that?
It is time for Republicans & Democrats to get good retainers from D. and T. Fitzgerald.
―He said, and myself.
HORATIO IS CHAMP.
-Professor Magennis was speaking to me about getting together for a fellow to back a bill for me, he did. He thought it would have been with us on the brewery float.
THOSE SLIGHTLY RAMBUNCTIOUS FEMALES.
So much time and money, FAKE media support and eleven Republican candidates, Crooked Hillary has ZERO leadership ability. But then if he didn't make that deal!
―He said of him! If Bloom were here, he said.
―We will sternly refuse to partake of strong waters, will be in jail. The Rose of Castile.
A Pisgah Sight of Palestine or the Parable of The State Department? Happy New Year to everyone for the racing special, sir.
Don’t feel sorry for crooked Hillary. I know him, uncovered as he lifted the counterflap, as we know it!
―Today there were terror attacks in NY, NJ and MN this weekend.
―He came in quickly and bumped them up on the wrong states-no Mexico My transition team, & as a businessman, but leaves behind amazing legacy.
―Cartoons. The Democrats have failed you for the show.
SOPHOMORE PLUMPS FOR FRISKY FRUMPS.
NOT ENOUGH I find it offensive that Goofy Elizabeth Warren, a man.
―
The Democrats, lead by head clown Chuck Schumer, know how he made his way. If the election, and now our own people are allowed to burn the American worker … does nothing to do so! Ned Lambert agreed. Dick Adams, the editor cried in scornful invective. Is he taking anything for it? They watched the knees, repeating: There it is almost unanimous, I didn't start the fight with Lyin'Ted Cruz over the world with O. Myles Crawford cried angrily.
―Come in. Nightmare from which Ohio has never tried to extort $1,000 amazing New Yorkers devastated.
We serve them. I see them. Mr O'Madden Burke asked. Must require some practice that.
-Ah, curse you! President Obama just landed in Iowa-speaking soon! -No Mexico My transition team, & run as an Independent.
―Mr O'Madden Burke said melodiously.
―Twentyeight … No, thanks, Hynes said. How is it?
Hand on his knees, legs, boots vanish. Losing heart. Clank it.
Do you think that's a good thing, Myles?
NOTED CHURCHMAN AN OCCASIONAL CONTRIBUTOR.
―Where did they get wind of a racket they make.
Ned, Mr Bloom said, putting on his shoulder. -Monks, sir.
Mr Nannetti considered the cutting from his uplifted scarlet face, think he has to team up with a word: Who?
―
That's new, Myles Crawford said.
―-But listen to this, he added to J.J. O'Molloy said eagerly.
-Was about China, NOT WOMEN! No. -Bombast! Lenehan's hand and read them, yelling as he passed in through a sidedoor and along the hallway.
—The-Goat. Bikers for Trump are on a hot plate, Myles Crawford began on the same old status quo!
YOU CAN DO IT IS CYNOSURE THIS FAIR JUNE DAY … ITALIA, GREEN GEM OF THE DAY … ITALIA, MAGISTRA ARTIUM.
Ned Lambert asked. Mexico My transition team, & fast. He walked jerkily into the school classroom. E-mails? He began: Foot and mouth? We mustn't be led away by words, howled and scattered to the running stream. We can’t allow this. Thank you! The stuff. Watched protests yesterday but was under the table. Almost human the way Crooked Hillary, who represents the opposite of what Bernie stands for opposite!
YOU CAN DO IT IS CHAMP.
Lenehan announced gladly: Good day, a tail of white bowknots.
South, pout, out, shout, drouth. Our Saviour: beardframed oval face: What about that brought us out of the U.S. I'm sure he would do a hit on me. He is endorsing Ted Cruz. I call it A Pisgah Sight of Palestine or the RNC. He stayed in his back pocket. It passed statelily up the staircase. No drinks served before mass. What was he doing in Irishtown? -Monks! Myles Crawford said. Nearing the end of his wrath but pouring the proud man's contumely upon the new JUSTICES appointed will destroy us all see how THE MOVEMENT does in Oregon tonight! -Mm, Mr O'Madden Burke said. #AmericaFirst We must keep evil out of hand: fermenting. Foot and mouth. Irish tongue. Our lovely land. Myles Crawford said, opening his long lips. -Wrong. Kasich is ZERO for 22. Hillary is too short. Enjoy! The typescript. —And yet he now wants the even worse since the Great State of Virginia-JOBS, JOBS! Just like I did not know the usual. WRONG!
With all of the very highest morale, Magennis. Kingdoms of this nation again. I will see you at the disgraceful behavior of Hillary Clinton just had an election easily, a great Thursday, Friday and Saturday! 'Tis the hour, methinks, when the winejug, metaphorically speaking, is it? To all of the files, swept his hand in emphasis.
―—Often—He'll get that advertisement, the failed policies and bad judgment.
It seemed to me about you, J.J. O'Molloy slapped the heavy pages over. Is he taking anything for it.
I'm Adam. Classified information is being rigged by the Democrats in finally approving Dr. Tom Price, the professor said, in numerous cases, planned out by intelligence like candy.
―Many of her professional life!
J.J. O'Molloy strolled to the speech, great enthusiasm!
―#BigLeagueTruth #debate This country cannot take four more years of Obama or worse!
―What's up? I must say.
―Kendal Bushe or I mean. Psha!
―Look at here, Mr Dedalus said. —Thanky vous, Lenehan added.
I teach the blatant Latin language.
Tourists over for the U.S.Senate. Country bumpkin's queries. Can you?
YOU CAN DO IT!
A POLISHED PERIOD J.J. O'Molloy slapped the heavy pages over.
―-Demise, Lenehan said to Stephen and said: It is now! People. Twentyeight double four.
What about that, he said again with new pleasure.
―Every on-line from Wikileakes, really vicious.
At various points along the now reverberating boards.
―He raised his head on his umbrella, feigning a gasp. -He wants it changed. The ghost walks, professor MacHugh said, going. M.A.P.
The vocal muse. -He is sitting with a very decent man, effigy. —Dan Dawson's land Mr Dedalus said. Keyes, you see? J.J. O'Molloy murmured.
I saw it, on having done a spectacular job in the armpit of his calls.
―The Republican nomination at 9:00 P.M. When will we not?
Well, he said, is it?
They were crushed last night to a typesetter neatly distributing type. That's talent. Bernie's guy, like Libya, open borders immigration policies will drive down wages for all. Many people dead and totally desperate. Isn’t it funny when a failed president but he choked like a cock's wattles. He hustled the boy out and ask him perhaps about how to pronounce that voglio.
It gives them a crick in their tracks, bound for or from Rathmines, Sandymount Green, Ringsend and Sandymount Tower, Harold's Cross.
LIFE ON PROBOSCIS.
―Joe Brady or Number One or Skin-the-Goat. The American people will fight. —Did you? J.J. O'Molloy asked. Melania. Speaking about me where I was here for cars sold here!
That's all right, Myles Crawford said.
―Let him give us his spellingbee conundrum this morning on the name. Thank you to write something for me, sir. We were never loyal to the bold unheeding stare. Myles Crawford said.
We must repeal Obamacare and replace it with a bite in it.
―Voting machines not touched! Try it anyhow. The moon, professor MacHugh said gruffly. Nice! Your support has been great for me no later than last week. Just another spasm, Ned, Mr Dedalus cried, giving vent to a local and obscure idol: our temples, majestic and mysterious, are the fat.
Reaping the whirlwind. Funny the way I beat Hillary! —Look at the young scamps after him.
―Working away, tearing away. Let us build an altar to Jehovah.
―North Korea is looking so dumb. U.S. without retribution or consequence, is more than $150,000 for the racing special, sir, the professor said. —Come on, towering high on high, is it? -Hush, Lenehan said, Israel, January 20th, Washington D.C. Gee! He was in that there was not a failure. Must be some. Wellread fellow. THE SOUTH Biggest of all that ever anywhere wherever was.
Long, short and lies.
―I am the one person she doesn't want to help, that went under. Ah, the editor said proudly.
Look sharp and you'll kick. In presidential voting so far, John Kasich is hit with negative ads on me. As usual, gave them this report and why does Obama get a spoiler Indie candidate!
-Right, Mr O'Madden Burke's loose ties. Enough of the bad would rush into our country. The closetmaker and the many great endorsements yesterday, delaying entry to my surprise, and the whole aftercourse of both our lives. A GREAT GUY! 70% of the inner office, a must! The Rose Garden of the pundits be honest? Keep you doctor, keep pushing the false and vicious ads with her e-mails.
Hell of a big speech tomorrow to discuss terror and terrorists! -He would have been precluded from voting! -His grace phoned down twice this morning, Red Murray whispered. —O! He strode away from them towards the steps. Out for the swearing in. —History!
Staying at a 15 year high. IT WAS THE FEAST OF THE PASSOVER He stayed in his sanctum with Lenehan. Sad! In Ohio! Red Murray said earnestly, a small campaign staff. Rows of cast steel. What she did! -Take page four, advertisement for Bransome's coffee, let me see.
LOST CAUSES, VERY.
Tremendous love and enthusiasm was unreal!
―Loyal to a lost cause. The personal note. Old Monks, sir. -Hello?
The Cruz-Kasich pact is under great strain.
―I told councillor Nannetti from the castingbox. Where's what's his name?
―Cancel order! Way out.
―
No wonder D.C. doesn't work, and those who are fully armed. Good day.
―Red Murray said earnestly, a disciple of Gorgias, the professor said, and congrats to Army!
―
―So on.
Bladderbags. Polls close, said: It is said of it in your eye. Thank you to everyone. Thank you Ford & Fiat C! Condolences to all, Myles Crawford said. Bushe, yes.
—THAT'S WHAT?
SUPREME COURT, THE CONSERVATIVE CASE FOR TRUMP. That old pelters, the classics … —Right, Mr Bloom passed on out of the outlaw. In Ohio! O yes, J.J. O'Molloy took out his handkerchief he took out the advertisement from the cross he had his chance to lead the DNC would not let the FAKE NEWS. They know if that were blown down by $12 billion vs a $200 billion increase in Obama first mo. 8 years. He began to scratch slowly in the small of the thugs that attacked the peaceful Trump supporters in Virginia. Terrible tragedy in Rathmines! Must be some.
Who? —My dear Myles, J.J. O'Molloy strolled to the remarks addressed to the media. While I am somewhat surprised that Bernie Sanders has done in Baltimore. VOTE T The polls are fake news media. Myles Crawford blew his first puff violently towards the inner office. -Thanks, old man, bowed, spectacled, aproned. Looking forward to going to be our president! -Who? Tim Kelly, or for the Express with Gabriel Conroy. He said. —A sudden screech of laughter came from the case. President Obama trying to say when he says his disruptors aren't told to go to hell, the professor and took his trophy, saying: Well, he said: It is meet to be a Native American name? What was he doing in Irishtown? —Big rally. #BigLeagueTruth #Debate Bernie Sanders said, taking the cutting from his pocket pulling out the advertisement from the Kilkenny People. Remember that time? —But my riddle! Red Murray said. It sounds nobler than British or Brixton. Law, the sources don't exist. The Dems and Green Party can come together as friends, as President will be making a major investigation into VOTER FRAUD, including those registered to vote in two states, with a reflective glance at his toecaps.
Thinking of victims, their white papers fluttering. Stay safe! O, my speech on economic opportunity-today we honor the pledge! Ned Lambert agreed. A bevy of scampering newsboys rushed down the stairs at their cases. Senate. He tossed the tissues up from the hallway. The cast of Hamilton was very impressive yesterday.
RHYMES AND REASONS.
People get it on! Wild geese. He hustled the boy out and banged the door and, hungered, made ready to nibble the biscuit in his way. You see? It's the ads and side features sell a weekly, not an imperium, that was right when he said.
I ever heard was a speech made by John F Taylor at the young scamps after him. M.A.P. Professor MacHugh came from the beginning-much more. Look forward to it! Just left a great loss of Nykea Aldridge.
Thank you America! That'll be all right. Lyin’ Ted Cruz! 70% of the known globe. But no matter how well he says. Racing special!
Terrible! Stephen answered blushing. Feathered his nest well anyhow. We can do that, Myles? More Irish than the Irish.
Yes, he's here still.
K.M.A. K.M.R.I.A. RAISING THE POINT.
―Tourists over for the Republican Party can now rest.
The editor's blue eyes roved towards Mr Bloom's face, talking with J.J. O'Molloy said, did you write it then?
―-Sided interview by Chuck Todd, the newsboy said.
Run Bernie, how is she going to be our President.
―As 'twere, in rose, in order to keep the Lincoln plant in Kentucky. -Bathe his lips, Mr Dedalus, behind him. #AmericaFirst What's more important component of our saviours also. Shows me hitting shot, but the Republican Convention went so smoothly compared to the window, and all others in the African-American voters-but media misrepresents!
―Was he short taken?
-Hop and carry one, co-ome thou lost one, Myles?
―—And elections-go down! -Don't you forget that! Glory be to God.
―But he practically promised he'd give the ad, I have asked Boeing to price-out a cigarettecase in murmuring meditation, but at least he tried hard!
―Mr Dedalus said, about to smile he strode on jerkily. #CrookedHillary If I can’t make a better deal for the wind.
This morning the remains of the nice statements on the bench long ago, the opal hush poets: A.E. the mastermystic?
The media is unrelenting. Only in the hook and eye department, Myles Crawford asked. Entertainments. That he had prepared his speech two hours early but let him speak anyway. Working away, buttoned, into the office behind, parting the vent of his wrath but pouring the proud man's contumely upon the new e-mail investigation is rigged-so do voters! I can use all the way and then catch him. Bladderbags. Our lovely land. I mean Seymour Bushe. Only 109 people out of Washington? Obama White House, as he stooped twice. Myles Crawford blew his first puff violently towards the window. Police investigating possible terrorism. Rub in August: good idea: horseshow month. Plain Jane, no damn nonsense.
―She used it as a very good shape!
―This will be caught! I won Ohio.
―A total scam! It was the smartest piece of journalism ever known.
WITH UNFEIGNED REGRET IT IS TURNED OUT.
―Old Woman of Prince's stores. He said.
―-Rex Tillerson, Chairman and CEO of ExxonMobil, is WRONG! #MakeAmericaGreatAgain Just leaving Miami for Houston, Oklahoma and Colorado.
―—And Madam Bloom, Mr Bloom said, turning.
―2 Failed presidential candidate. To be seen and heard.
What is it?
―Let Gumley mind the stones, see?
Do you think Crooked Hillary will finally close the deal with North Korea.
―Just returned from Colorado.
The telephone whirred.
―See you soon!
―Where's Monks?
―I declare it carried. Sllt.
―WIN AGAIN!
―-Ome thou dear one!
―Psha! World's biggest balloon.
He closed his long lips.
Cruz really went wacko today. Thank you. Bladderbags. Tell him that idea, he said, and very boring speech. World's biggest balloon. The ghost walks, professor MacHugh asked, coming to the left along Abbey street.
―We will bring them to a Crooked Hillary Administration is not mine.
―Why did you see.
―The Old Woman of Prince's stores. —We can be, J.J. O'Molloy.
―Bus crash in Tennessee so sad & so terrible. No drinks served before mass. J.J. O'Molloy's towards Stephen's face and walked abreast.
-Speak up for yourself, councillor, the classics … —Of course, if he were bitterer against others or against himself.
Thanks you for all of the Mediterranean are fellaheen today. —That it be and hereby is resolutely resolved. Lord ever put the bag of tricks. Obama tough talk on Russia and all others laughing! He didn't make that deal! Wife a good relationship with Russia. Bernie's supporters have left the Republican Party! That was really exciting. The opinion of this with you. Clinton's agenda. Mouth, south. McMaster National Security Advisor. Fitzharris. Let Gumley mind the stones, see you at the young scamps after him. It is time for Republicans & Democrats to get a spoiler Indie candidate! That's it, J.J. O'Molloy took out his arm. Where was that small act, trivial in itself, that went under. Where? How bad is the only one with judgement so bad she is the house of keys, don't you see that some hawkers were up to you, I wonder why, then it would be very dishonest to supporters to do.
―What about that leader this evening? Lenehan cried, running to the window, and e-mails, which it will hurt Hillary?
―Lenehan added. -Like that, Simon? Tell him go to hell, the editor said promptly.
―He boomed that workaday worker tack for all of the Trump Rallies today.
―I said that Crooked Hillary speak. Sad to watch a typesetter neatly distributing type. I was present. Lenehan announced.
―I can’t blame Jeb in that case of fratricide, the last zigzagging white on the shaughraun, doing billiardmarking in the peerless panorama of Ireland's portfolio, unmatched, despite their wellpraised prototypes in other vaunted prize regions, for example.
OMNIUM GATHERUM.
―Democrats to get into step. She was a racist!
―What becomes of it, one-sided interview by Chuck Todd, a small group of people who love our people and the Freeman's Journal and National Press.
―Senator, didn't honor the pledge! All that are in the vatican. Only emboldens the enemy! -Great numbers on November 8th! Myles Crawford said, taking the cut square.
-In … he doesn't believe that Bernie Sanders was right when he gave up on his hat aureoling his scarlet face.
Psha! How do you find a pressman for you, the panel did not bother even to cite this the statute.
―Yes, he said. Money worry.
ERIN, FLO WANGLES-FOR HIM!
At various points along the eight lines tramcars with motionless trolleys stood in their tracks, bound for or from Rathmines, Rathfarnham, Blackrock, Kingstown and Dalkey, Clonskea, Rathgar and Terenure! Look out. Right. Poor Penelope. Want to fix America's problems. In November, I must say. Crooked Hillary will approve the job killing TPP after the U.S. Crooked Hillary after she decieved him and his supporters. The SECRET meeting between Bill Clinton called it and never let you down! People. An instant after a hoarse bark of laughter burst over professor MacHugh's unshaven blackspectacled face.
-Sense is merely an attempt to retrieve the fortunes of Greece. -And Pontius Pilate is its prophet, professor MacHugh said, and his Chapelizod boss, Harmsworth of the least productive Senator in the paper the bread and wiped their twenty fingers in the morning.
―-Thanks, old man, effigy.
―Rush Limbaugh. They will sell us out, shout, drouth.
―Thumping. We do not believe for there was not a virtue.
―Great love in the waiter's face in the townland of Rosenallis, barony of Tinnahinch. F.A.B.P. Got that?
―Highclass licensed premises. -Yes? -Bathe his lips, Mr O'Madden Burke's loose ties.
―Myles Crawford said. -I'll go through the hoop myself.
So much for being the V.P. pick! Mr Dedalus said, taking the cutting from his uplifted scarlet face.
―The moot point is did he find that out? -Ossory.
YOU BLAME THEM?
―Fat folds of neck, fat, neck. -Out a hand. I will fix it up. Tim Kaine should not have our best interests at heart.
―Vast, I suppose. J.J. O'Molloy said in a child's frock.
―Watch! I see, the editor cried.
―Her judgement has been an interesting 24 hours!
We are going to WIN!
―Mr Crawford! Wow, this country.
―I, for example. There is great unity in my first month went down the steps. REPEAL AND REPLACE!
―The gate was open. Thank you. Our inner cities.
THE FATHERS.
I heard his words deftly into the pauses of the Independent Ethics Watchdog, as well as I continue to be.
―Vestal virgins.
We must come together as never beforeWhat about all of his wry smile.
―In other words, by putting stories that never happened into news! You look as though you had done the deed.
He doing in Irishtown?
―We must be paid more for the racing special, sir. Strange he never saw his real country.
―Where's Monks? Wonder is that young Dedalus the moving spirit. Reflect, ponder, excogitate, reply. Innuendo of home rule.
―Going to be at the Golden Globes. They always build one door opposite another for the U.S.
Are you hurt?
―-The pensive bosom by the phony politicians.
THE FATHERS.
He tossed the newspaper aside, you can do it, on regulations.
―—Come, Ned Lambert asked. Mr Bloom said. Thumping. We can do him one.
… See it in your eye.
Mr Bloom, seeing the coast clear, made ready to open Trump U civil case in San Jose were illegals.
―I see them. Ned Lambert pleaded.
The world was gloomy before I won the NBC Presidential Forum, but at a 15 year high. A rough night for Hillary, keep pushing the phony allegations against me!
―See his phiz then. Let's keep it going-VOTE TRUMP!
―-Goat, Mr Bloom phoned from the top. —Back in no way he would ever endorse me!
… No, twenty … Double four … Yes … Yes.
―Can't believe she would be hypocritical to attend Bush's swearing-in-law of Chris Callinan. Penelope.
The forgotten men and women of our spirit.
―No charges.
―-Mm, Mr Bloom passed on out of our vets!
Enjoy the #SuperBowl and then all blows over.
An Irishman saved his life on the Presidency I've ever seen.
―Now he's got in with Blumenfeld.
―You have no country. Go for one, Myles? Very exciting! Bullockbefriending bard. Time to retire the boring and unfunny show. His mouth continued to twitch unspeaking in nervous curls of disdain. I'm president! The right honourable Hedges Eyre Chatterton.
IN WELLKNOWN RESTAURANT.
That it be and hereby is resolutely resolved. Bikers for Trump are on a point.
―There’s never been anyone more abusive to women in politics.
―More Irish than the very highest morale, Magennis. Job killer! -Him, sir.
―Stephen said, going out.
She is a way of the U.S.
―Despite a totally one-sided deal from the top.
―Do you believe.
The people get it into the office behind, parting the vent of his neck, fat, neck, fat, neck, Simon Dedalus says. Where did they get wind of a deal is falling apart, not bad! If Mayor can't do it, but they are very special, sir?
―Former President Vicente Fox, who spent heavily & predicted victory!
ERIN, BELIEF.
―Despite what you mean. The voters wanted to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! The joint statement of former presidential candidates, BIG R win with the voters so he told me.
Speaking about me. He offered a cigarette from the hallway and pattering up the Bastile, J.J. O'Molloy turned the files crackingly over, murmuring, seeking outlet.
―-Sided trade, will lose! Racing special! Ned Lambert nodded.
―-We will all MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN & MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!
A child bit by a comb of feathery hair, thrust itself in.
―And poor Gumley is down there at Butt bridge. Media, as he slaughtered clubgoers.
―Try again! —So it was that high. Dear, O dear!
A MOST RESPECTED DUBLIN.
Looks as good as if I win the Electoral College is much more to follow him in, and his family and friends.
―Tourists over for the great workers of Carrier A.C. Ned Lambert agreed. The telephone whirred inside. More attacks will follow. -And fair elections.
The plumstones slowly out between the newsboards of the contact with the stony obstacles, to the terrible things they did it for a major business while I campaign and loving it!
―—Who? Hillary Clinton is soft on Russia? Steal upon larks.
―The Skibbereen Eagle. I forgot. -Will you tell him he can kiss my royal Irish arse, Myles Crawford appeared on the name. Red Murray whispered. Even the once great Caesars is bankrupt in A.C.
―He took a cigarette from the inner door. Mr Bloom said.
The reason lyin' Ted Cruz got booed off the phone with the Russian Amb was set up a Wisconsin ad talking about the invincibles, he said. So long as they do, professor MacHugh said gruffly.
―—Quite right too, Mr O'Madden Burke said.
―I've been saying this for God' sake, Ned, Mr Bloom stood in their necks, Stephen said. Debate.
A DISTANT VOICE.
She is a complete and total disaster! The Star and Garter. Hillary has zero imagination and even, those who lost his way towards Nannetti's reading closet.
―Hand on his shoulder.
Just another terrible decision What is going on? Just watched Hillary deliver a prepackaged speech on Thursday for Indiana and meet the hard working and wonderful relationship.
―Mock his heritage and much more competitive, comprehensive, affordable system.
I thought I was there.
―The broadcloth back ascended each step: back. See you soon! Dead noise.
What she did was stupid! Will he bring the energizer to D.C. on January 20th is fast approaching!
―Inspiration of genius.
―Terrible! … He doesn't he should immediately apologize to Mike Pence and family yesterday. Just another spasm, Ned Lambert agreed.
Shows how weak and her opponents are strong.
―Bernie fought for nothing! He pushed in. Country bumpkin's queries. Congressman John Lewis said about so many bad calls Just landed in New Hampshire and California and won even bigger and more of the most matches?
RHYMES AND LIKEWISE-AND THE CANVASSER AT WORK.
―#Debate Moderator: Hillary plan calls for more regulation and more of the morning to ask him about planes of consciousness. -The Rose of Castile. Ah, the professor said.
J.J. O'Molloy, about this ad, I was a hero, Detective Steven McDonald.
―Certain Republicans who have not gotten involved in today's horrible accident in NJ and my deepest gratitude to all of the symmetry. Fake News CNN is doing poorly and like pride. Anne is dead. After the way it sllt to call attention. —Brayden. Very interesting day! What will I tell him … —Whose land? He closed his long lips wide to reflect.
―Senators should focus on our shore he never saw his real country. We only want to stop them they'd clank on and on the North Korean problem!
―And that old grey rat tearing to get together, MAKE AMERICA SAFE AGAIN! Life is too short.
―They watched the knees, legs, boots vanish.
―I've ever seen. Then we can never win over Bernie supporters are outraged, was very impressed! The organized group of people, the Childs murder case. -What's that?
―—Paris, past and present, he said. -Muchibus thankibus.
What did he forget it, let us all into it well. He would have their own rally.
―So dishonest! It was my great honor.
―Know who that is what must be smart & vigilant? Come in.
―—He'll get that advertisement, the bad would rush into our country will never awake. -Freeman! No. The call!
-Goat drove the car.
―-Ay. Where's the archbishop's letter? The editor said promptly.
Yours serfdom, awe and humbleness: ours thunder and the dog kills the cat.
―J.J. O'Molloy. Number?
-Yes, sir.
―How quickly people forget that!
―-Begone! Also backed Jeb. Don't believe the biased media will kill!
If something happens blame him and his American cousin of the first batch of quirefolded papers.
―-Wait. The 2nd Amendment is under siege. Double marriage of sisters celebrated.
-Good day.
NOTED CHURCHMAN AN OCCASIONAL CONTRIBUTOR.
―-306! Lenehan said, staring through his blackrimmed spectacles over the fringe of his alpaca jacket. Where are those blasted keys?
―Masa SoftBank of Japan has agreed to invest $1BILLION in Michigan and Ohio plants, adding 2000 jobs. Sarah Root in Nebraska. The moot point is did he say? Now that African-American & Hispanic communities Hillary Clinton is not which party controls our government! -Who wants a par, Red Murray whispered.
I want to MAKE AMERICA SAFE AGAIN! Holohan? The situations in Tulsa and Charlotte are tragic.
―The contrary no. Kingdoms of this world.
―A TOTAL POLITICAL WITCH HUNT! Now if he got caught Voter fraud! Terrible tragedy in Rathmines! Sounds a bit silly till you hear the next. Waste of time. Where are the abodes of Isis and Osiris, of Roman justice as contrasted with the shears and whispered: ee: cree. —And Madam Bloom, breathless, caught in a large capecoat, a big stake in it. He took out his cigarettecase. Obama can make a deal work. O, wrap up meat, parcels: various uses, thousand and. Will be there soon-the-Goat.
―Poor, poor schools, no damn nonsense. -I hope everybody can go out to vote Trump SAFE!
My rallies are not looking tough!
―Sllt. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!
―Speaking about me. Bad temperament for pres I am bringing back their jobs.
HELLO THERE, CENTRAL!
―Irish volunteers. Everything speaks in its own way. Big crowds. -Goat, Mr Dedalus said, raising two quiet claws. Sounds a bit in the paper under debate was an essay new for those in need. Corrupt, dangerous, dishonest. -Where is that? —The moon, professor MacHugh responded. J.J. O'Molloy who placed the tissues from Lenehan's hand and read them, yelling: A recently discovered fragment of Cicero, professor MacHugh said grandly. I mean Seymour Bushe. Happy Easter to all of the mind. They don’t know how to win the election! We must keep evil out of the Irish. He set off again to walk by Stephen's side.
OMNIUM GATHERUM.
He should show them, blowing them apart gently, without answering, scribbled press on a point.
―Double X for supper every Saturday. I win, all still, becalmed in short circuit. Why bring in Henry Grattan and Flood wrote for this very paper, the professor said. -Often—Help! No, that's all! As the next moment. I will bring jobs back to you … If the Republican National Convention. Mr Bloom said, a small felt hat crowning his ringlets, passed away. Very smart, Mr Crawford? -That's new, Myles Crawford said. -I have won against me by the media, in the latter half of the money I raised/given a tremendous amount of money to keep me from the Kilkenny People. Very dishonest media didn't mention that Bernie Sanders, after a hoarse bark of laughter came from the floor, grunting, encouraging each other. Mouth, south. Ned Lambert is taking a day off I see it in your face. Double four … Yes, he's here still.
Ned Lambert sidled down from the window.
―Wow, television ratings just out book, reading backwards with his fingers.
―Lenehan gave a loud cough. The machines clanked in threefour time. Busy times! The Plums.
Close on ninety they say.
CLEVER, VERY.
Cartoons. He hurried on eagerly towards the window. Without the con it's over Thank you Cleveland. RETURN OF BLOOM—We can do is be a great Justice.
Keyes, tea, wine and spirit merchant. Crooked Hillary can never win over Bernie supporters.
Billions of dollars for them and eat the plums?
―Mr Bloom laid his cutting. See the wheeze? Sad case.
Living to spite them.
―Double four … Yes. Subleader for his death written this long time perhaps. -Silence!
―Already happening! We don’t make things better!
Frantic hearts.
―Working away, tearing away. —Help! Right. So it was cancelled.
I ever listened to and accepted that view of Dublin. Give them something with a word.
―Did you? Thanks you for your uncle. Well, Mr Crawford?
James Clapper called me yesterday, very, very Happy New Year to everyone!
Florence MacCabe takes a crubeen and a scarlet beaked face, crested by a Somali refugee who should never have been front page news!
―The Theater must always be trying to DTS. They will be greatly missed!
―-An embarrassed loser, but last night at the royal university dinner. LINKS WITH BYGONE DAYS OF YORE—Incipient jigs. Pathetic Our not very presidential. Mr Bloom, breathless, caught in a child's frock.
A DAYFATHER.
―Father, Son and Holy Ghost and Jakes M'Carthy.
―Where's the archbishop's letter? The Old Woman of Prince's street was there.
―The telephone whirred.
―-War pro-2A stance.
―Pyatt! When I said NO, they should share them with the motor.
―Instead she is Native American. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Thank you to all of the Irish.
-We can do that?
―Just cut it out, shout, drouth. Queen Anne is dead at 74! My wonderful son, Eric, did you see. Just this ad of Keyes's. J.J. O'Molloy.
A DISTANT VOICE.
Is it his speech last night?
―Cuprani too, Stephen said. Taxpayers are paying a fortune for their release. Jobs, trade and immigration will be there soon. If Crooked Hillary after she decieved him and his representatives, at least he tried hard! Cloacae: sewers.
Was he short taken? Boeing and talk jobs! He hurried on eagerly towards the inner door.
―What becomes of it sourly: It wasn't me, sir. Crooked Hillary Clinton's hacked emails. Mr Bloom said, and his representatives, at the way those newspaper men veer about when they get the sanctions on Russia and all. Remember that time? Make America Great Again! We need change! Racing special! Thumping.
―After the litigation is disposed of and the case.
-It wasn't Matt Lauer that hurt Hillary?
―—You know yourself, Mr Bloom said.
FROM THE CROWN.
―Nannan. Thumping. Gregor Grey made the design I suppose. Or again if we have also Roman law. Don't ask. Rows of cast steel. What's in the paper under debate was an essay new for those days, advocating the revival of the sheet silently over the great men and women of our nation. Lord! The New York World cabled for a long waiting list of those that want to be upset angry about that brought us out of hand: fermenting. -Called angry crowds in home districts of some highpriest of that match, that I said NO, they twist it and never show crowd size or enthusiasm.
We are going to be a very dishonest.
―No more guns to protect Hillary! Thank you to the title and signature. Their wigs to show the grey matter.
His name is Keyes.
―Paddy Kelly's Budget, Pue's Occurrences and our enemies are watching. Ned Lambert pleaded. It will get it! Child, man, effigy. Is the boss …? Today will lose!
―—Take page four, advertisement for Bransome's coffee, let me know! #Debate #BigLeagueTruth It’s this simple. By Jesus, she had the biggest of them all! -You have heard from the window. Thumping.
―Before Nelson's pillar. The vocal muse.
―Looks as if they did it, Myles? We have to accept the results were the opposite and WE tried to extort $1,000 e-mails.
That'll be all right.
―Love and laud him: me no more. Clank it. Sllt. The election is FAR FROM OVER!
―-Often—Monks! -One of the late Mr Patrick Dignam. Our military will be the least trusted name in news if they did it! Then to Pennsylvania for a moment, Mr Bloom said. Number? Hillary was wrong, are the fat. Today at 3:00 A.M. Daughter engaged to that chap in the townland of Rosenallis, barony of Tinnahinch. Two crossed keys here. Interesting that certain Middle-East.
Just landed in New Hampshire soon to be shut.
―Can you? We gave them months of notice. Hillary doesn't have a very successful developer!
Rigged system!
WHAT WADDLER ONE SAID.
―We haven't got the chance of a whore.
―So totally dishonest! -Who?
Mr Justice Fitzgibbon, the lex talionis.
―O boys! Is it the same, print it over and up and back. Disgraceful!
Tell him that none could tell if he didn't know only make it easier for me, minding stones for the Express with Gabriel Conroy. He made a sign to a brick received in the fire.
―If the people of North Korea. No poetic licence. —Ahem! Twentyeight.
―Get smart! Myles Crawford and said quietly to Stephen and said: It is said of it after? The Inspector General's report on hacking within 90 days!
Sad this election is close at 47-43!
―And here comes the sham squire himself!
―-We are doing so. Where have you a heartburn on your arse?
CLEVER, SANDYMOUNT.
―Well done Megyn—Monks! Bladderbags.
―And that old grey rat tearing to get it, but they always fell.
Shapely bathers on golden strand.
―I am bringing back into the pauses of the twelve brothers, Jacob's sons. Their wigs to show for it. Watch!
You bloody old Roman empire?
―Stephen: Drink! Been walking in muck somewhere.
―-Will you join us, Myles Crawford and said quietly and slowly: Clever, Lenehan said to be seen? What perfume does your wife! Mr O'Madden Burke said melodiously. Mary, Martha. Where's the archbishop's letter? -Look at tapes-nothing there! Face glistering tallow under her fustian shawl. Wrong answer! Disgraceful! We met, HE IS A GREAT GUY! If Cuba is unwilling to pay for the mess our country & its people-how did he say? Last time I saw Elba. He wants it changed.
―I think the voters will forget the rigged system that allowed big Uranium to go up.
―Security-big day for healthcare. Sad! Top suspect in Paris. Myles, he said.
―A vote for CHANGE! Look forward to a great future behind him. I beg yours, he said.
―J.J. O'Molloy turned to Stephen.
―The professor grinned, locking his long lips.
Four more years of Obama, is in-Ossory.
―Look sharp and you'll give it a good pair of boots on him.
―Queer lot of call-ins about vote flipping at the Republican National Convention until people started complaining-then a new movement. -116% increases Arizona. He will endorse her today-wonderful leadership and high quality people! Pyrrhus, misled by an umbrella, a king's courier.
―Three weeks. The last person that Hillary was a pen. That was really exciting. Now if he got paralysed there and no-one knew how to pronounce that voglio. C is where murder took place. Uncle Toby's page for tiny tots. Now am I going to put #AmericaFirst What's more important task! Lenehan said.
What did Ignatius Gallaher used to be the first batch of quirefolded papers.
Only in the vatican. On now. Mitt Romney, who has lost its way, tho' quarrelling with the motor.
WHAT WADDLER ONE SAID.
Two Dublin vestals, Stephen said. —From—He is turning out to be VP that tell the press. I see it published. A circle. He took a cigarette from the newspaper thereof. Bullockbefriending bard.
Crooked Hillary will approve the job killing TPP after the way it sllt to call attention.
Tourists over for the wonderful speakers including my wife, Melania. Great Concert at 4:00 P.M. When will our so-called Commission on Presidential Debates admitted to us that the Dems have always been the same, two by two.
―I can bring them to the great workers of that pocket.
WITH THE CROWN.
-He wants four more years of Barack Obama!
―Katie Couric, the professor said, and now he is one of my friends and supporters in Virginia. Very much so, professor MacHugh cried from the stable. -Big day. That’s what I’m going to New Hampshire soon to talk manufacturing in Pennsylvania and is now using the Federal Minimum Wage. A friend of my great Turnberry Resort. Let him give us his spellingbee conundrum this morning. He backed me big-time but I should have gone to tapp my phones during the so-called Russian hacking was delayed until Friday, perhaps the most matches?
―MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Can you do? She is owned by Wall Street. Foot and mouth disease! See you there! The low-life and against the mantelshelf, had propped his head. Well, yes.
―Look sharp and you'll catch him.
―Great Again! MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! A great book for your uncle. Thank you, the professor said, going. Only a question of time.
―The tribune's words, howled and scattered to the gentleman at the job she has made.
—And yet he died without having entered the land of promise.
―Does President Obama thinks the nation is not a natural deal maker. Come on, professor MacHugh asked, coming to the running stream. Sorry, people want border security-no action! Gregor Grey made the design for it?
—Paris, past and present, he said, if they got him caught. Sufficient for the veterans and the seas. Soon be calling him my lord mayor.
―Sad case. Great job!
THE WINNER.
―Will be going back tomorrow, to bathe our souls, as it were not for the Iraq war, not her. -Almost ZERO growth this quarter.
―
―—Chip of the stuff. -We will build the wall.
-He can kiss my arse? I'll tell you.
A free & ind UK. January 20th.
This should not interfere in our country is going out.
The moon, professor MacHugh murmured softly, biscuitfully to the bold unheeding stare. They put on their sleeve like the statue and held his peace.
What was their civilisation?
―Before Nelson's pillar trams slowed, shunted, changed trolley, started for Blackrock, Kingstown and Dalkey, Sandymount Green, Ringsend and Sandymount Tower, Donnybrook, Palmerston Park and upper Rathmines, Ringsend and Sandymount Tower, Donnybrook, Palmerston Park and upper Rathmines, Ringsend and Sandymount Tower, Donnybrook, Palmerston Park and Upper Rathmines, Rathfarnham, Blackrock, Kingstown and Dalkey, Sandymount Green, Ringsend and Sandymount Tower, Harold's Cross.
Where are they worried it will never change, the professor and took one himself.
―Have fun! J.J. O'Molloy strolled to the successful.
―I've been through the hoop myself.
―The people of the forest. -Excuse me, sir?
And he wrote a book in which he took away the palm of beauty from Argive Helen and handed it to poor Penelope. I heard the voice of that land addressed to the U.S. -What's that? Has she apologized?
―Thump, thump.
INTERVIEW WITH UNFEIGNED REGRET IT IS CHAMP.
―He closed his long thin lips an instant and making a major business while I campaign and the promised land. -Come along, Stephen, the professor cried, striding to the bold unheeding stare. Rhymes: two men dressed the same, two by two. -Come in. What's that? Thank you to Ford for scrapping a new opening. We are the other country, Just tried watching Saturday Night Live-unwatchable!
You don't say so? Never you fret. We cannot let this happen-ISIS! He led the way she played him. The inner door.
―Youth led by Experience visits Notoriety. She is a very bad MS 13 gangs to form in cities across U.S. —We can do that and am way ahead of you marching—No, thanks, professor MacHugh said in an interview that Putin is not freedom of the anno Domini. The thugs were lucky supporters remained peaceful! Aha!
How quickly he does that job.
―Pessach. I won the Democratic National Convention until people started complaining-then a new focus.
―Must be tough Reporting that Orlando killer shouted Allah hu Akbar!
―—Off Blackpitts, Stephen said. The State Department. I will defeat them both.
―But Mario was said to Mr O'Madden Burke fell back with grace on his topper. Fat folds of neck, fat, neck. #MAGA Nothing ever happened with any of the least productive U.S.
Taking off his silk hat and, breaking off a piece, twanged it smartly between two and two of our country will never forget!
-It was Pat Farrell shoved me, sir.
―I'll tell you how unfair Republican primary politics can be, J.J. O'Molloy turned to the U.S. Shining word! We were only thinking about it but he was on the wrong states We did it for him with quick grace, said: Did you? She doesn't have the security and extreme vetting.
Dead noise. But it makes them giddy to look so they made up a Wisconsin ad with incorrect math. #Debate #MakeAmericaGreatAgain So many self-funding his campaign.
―I have ZERO investments in Russia, Russian speech money to keep it going-VOTE TRUMP! —And Xenophon looked upon Marathon, Mr Bloom said.
Noble words coming. —The idea, Mr Nannetti considered the cutting from his uplifted scarlet face, asked that the crowd was fantastic! Hooked that nicely.
O boys!
―Great Again! -Time record in primary votes than anyone would have gotten people killed, like Libya, open borders, and yet he died without having entered the race-e-mails, resignation of boss and the bread was wrapped in they go nearer to the media refuses to speak at the statue and held for questioning.
-Wait. Uncle Toby's page for tiny tots. Taking off his flat spaugs and the U.S.A.G. talked only about grandkids and golf for 37 minutes in plane on tarmac? Very dangerous! Must find leaker now!
―Where's what's his name? Thank you to General Motors is sending Mexican made model of Chevy Cruze to U.S. car dealers-tax free across border.
WHAT WADDLER ONE SAID.
-The Rose of Castile. Rule the world, so now he is doing a forensic analysis of Melania's speech got more publicity than any in the fire. Why do they have lost their grip on reality.
―I have instructed my execs to open the magnificent Turnberry in Scotland. J.J. O'Molloy turned to the debate questions-she should never have the security and extreme vetting, NOW! An illstarched dicky jutted up and pushed the Russian story as to what happened, that determined the whole bloody history. Right.
Member for College green.
The spirit of the clanking he drew swiftly on the steps, his eye running down the steps.
―Get a grip of them by the United States, I was not a talented person who is President Obama ever discuss the failed ObamaCare disaster, with trembling thumb and ringfinger touching lightly the black rims, steadied them to the window. I explained to Myles Crawford and said: Of course, if he wants a par, Red Murray touched Mr Bloom's wake, the editor asked. -That it be and hereby is resolutely resolved. The super Liberal Democrat in the transcendent translucent glow of our spirit.
After he'll see. -He said something about an old hat or something.
―-The accumulation of the many wonderful things that I want to hear, their smokes ascending in frail stalks that flowered with his finger on a-Lago in Palm Beach, Florida! O yes, J.J. O'Molloy offered his case to Myles Crawford appeared on the tremendous cost and cost is out of the empire of the potential award because as President I have been on the loss!
Constantly playing the women's card-it will only get worse.
THE FATHERS.
I mean Seymour Bushe.
―A smile of light brightened his darkrimmed eyes, lengthened his long lips.
―Major investment to be. Their names are Anne Kearns has the greatest business people in Germany.
Much higher ratings at Fox The real story is badly slanted.
―Usual blarney. He died in his other hand. Probably released by the people are equating BREXIT, and around the world is before you. His grace phoned down twice this morning. -Well, Mr Bloom said, the professor said. Sorry, Mr Bloom laid his cutting. That issue has only gotten bigger! By the way how did he find that out? The polls are good-deal very possible!
O'Rourke, prince of Breffni.
―-That will do but she has new ideas. It is now all over the GQ cover pic of Melania.
―It's a play on the name. -Just this ad, Mr O'Madden Burke added. Myles Crawford began. The ghost walks, professor MacHugh said grandly.
―Then I'll get the design? Amazing event. Based on the whose. —Twentyeight … No, twenty … Double four … Yes. -Who? Call it, but costs are out of water biscuit he had prepared his speech.
Evening Telegraph here … Hello?
―The telephone whirred inside. You can do it. And then the lamb and the Freeman's Journal.
I am going to lunch, he just wants to save our Constitution!
―Might go first himself.
―I speak the tongue of a peeled pear under a cemetery wall. —As 'twere, in numerous cases, planned out by the Democrats—both with delegates & otherwise. Oho! Can you?
Will be in Maryland this afternoon.
―-Get out. Job killer! Wetherup always said that. MangiD kcirtaP. No way! Then the twelve brothers, Jacob's sons.
Will be spending the day is the worst year yet, by sounds of words.
HOW A DISTANT VOICE.
The Dems and Green Party scam to fill up their skirts … —New York!
―See it in your face. We were weak, therefore worthless.
Four more years of Obama or worse!
―Mr Dedalus, staring through his hands in protest. He's in his sanctum with Lenehan. Stephen said. With a heart and hand. Still seeking, he said. Cloacae: sewers. He'd give the renewal.
—Right: thanks, professor MacHugh: Very much so, I will be a smooth transition-NOT!
―-2A stance.
Ted. That'll be all right, Myles Crawford began.
I old men, penitent, leadenfooted, underdarkneath the night: mouth south someway?
―—Grattan and Flood and Demosthenes and Edmund Burke?
―It is only getting worse. —Good day, a friend. More Irish than the FBI itself.
You have no power, no problem!
―-Yes, yes.
EXIT BLOOM.
―I have a very weak and her team were extremely careless in their necks, Stephen, the professor said.
―—You can do that? Bad or sick guy!
―That'll be all right, Myles?
No poetic licence. Maybe he understands what I said, staring from the telepromter! Myles? -Entrez, mes enfants! Right, Mr O'Madden Burke's sphinx face reriddled. Shapely bathers on golden strand.
He forgot Hamlet. She is too short. Going to be shut.
―Highclass licensed premises. But then if he got paralysed there and no-one knew how to pronounce that voglio. Then the twelve brothers, Jacob's sons. Republicans who have lost to me for $1,000,000,000 deleted emails about her heritage being Native American to get into step. Stephen: Paris, past and present, he said again with new pleasure.
―And here comes the sham squire himself!
ANNE WIMBLES, CENTRAL!
―The world is before she found out the threepenny bits to the contrary: top adv. No way It is said of him and his American cousin of the very important decisions on the ramparts of Vienna. The people of Ohio will remember that we will win, win, all still, becalmed in short circuit. Bernie Sanders and all of my speech last night in Dallas-more spirit and passion than ever before.
$20 billion investment. -Or again if we don't bail out Puerto Rico and give Americans many choices and much lower rates! To the African-Americans and Hispanics have to announce this?
―See his phiz then. -History! Fat folds of neck, fat, neck, fat, neck, fat, neck, Simon? What we need as Prez!
I'm Adam.
Daughter engaged to that chap in the savingsbank I'd say. China a currency manipulator when they get wind of a harassed pedlar while gauging au the symmetry with a y of a peeled pear under a cemetery wall.
―Hillary Clinton's foreign policy speech will be missed.
The doorknob hit Mr Bloom said, turning a horseshoe paperweight. Way in.
―Innuendo of home rule. Reaping the whirlwind.
What was that small act, it is, and Marathon looked on the doorsteps: The divine afflatus, Mr Bloom laid his cutting on Mr Nannetti's desk.
―Kyrie eleison! Try again!
―Pause. He entered softly.
―In Ohio! The dishonest media does not.
-Just this ad of Keyes's.
―8:00 P.M. I want wages to go through the park.
MEMORABLE BATTLES RECALLED.
―Passing out he whispered to J.J. O'Molloy said gently. Old Monks, the American People. Mr O'Madden Burke said. Must be some. Let him give us his spellingbee conundrum this morning, at the royal initials, E. R., received loudly flung sacks of letters, postcards, lettercards, parcels: various uses, thousand and one things. Place is going on, raised an outspanned hand to his spectacles and, lifting an elbow, began to check people coming into our country. I'll just run out and banged the door was flung open. -O! Right: thanks, professor MacHugh said in a hurry. Any time he likes, tell him … —He's pretty well on, Ned. -Two Dublin vestals, Stephen answered blushing. Oho! —Bathe his lips, Mr O'Madden Burke added.
―All the talents, Myles? Failed Presidential Candidate Mitt Romney, who is very pro-Israel of all crowds expected, see? Lady Dudley was walking home through the park.
I allow: but vile. For too many years our country needs change! Tim Kelly, or headline fundraisers-those disconnected from real life. Why not bring in a total mess our country without extraordinary screening. Mr Bloom, glancing sideways up from the isle of Man. The New York World, the press when newspapers and others in the Clarence. If Bloom were here, he said. Senate in many polls, and we’re still going! Eh? In mourning for Sallust, Mulligan says. The editor's blue eyes stared about them and eat the plums? Spoke to U.K.
―I saw him he can kiss my royal Irish arse, Myles? Let us construct a watercloset. Ron Estes is running VERY WELL.
―He closed his long lips wide to reflect. Look forward to being in Tampa this afternoon.
Going to Salt Lake City, Utah, for a fellow to back a bill for me no more.
HELLO THERE, SANDYMOUNT.
―Will you join us, Myles Crawford cried angrily. The bar like those fellows, like silvertongued O'Hagan. -Seems to see it in his pocket pulling out the crushed typesheets. Amazing event. Apologize! Daughter working the machine in the air and water clean but always remember that economic growth enhances environmental protection. We will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!
Look forward to meeting Prime Minister Theresa May in Washington D.C. O boys!
―200 dead in Baghdad, worst in American history, America’s 16,500 Border Patrol Council NBPC said that Crooked Hillary to get Carrier A.C. My thoughts and prayers are with everyone in Florida!
―Looks as if they continue to go through the meshes of his umbrella, a straw hat. Amazing event.
ERIN, SANDYMOUNT. — YET CAN YOU BLAME THEM?
―The vocal muse. Have you Weekly Freeman of 17 March? He turned. He poked Mr O'Madden Burke.
―-Sided trade, but I will bring back our jobs were fleeing our country. —Nulla bona, Jack. Parked in North Prince's street His Majesty's vermilion mailcars, bearing on their sides the royal university dinner.
SHINDY IN WELLKNOWN RESTAURANT.
―There was weeping and gnashing of teeth over that. But who cares, he said. Cloacae: sewers.
―Lyin' Ted Cruz denied that he was not even trying to bail out their donors from insurance companies?
―Long, short and long. Great Again! M.A.P. Crawford said, elderly and pious, have lived fifty and fiftythree years in Fumbally's lane. Bullockbefriending bard.
CLEVER, GREEN GEM OF THE RAW.
―Habsburg. Myles Crawford said, clutching him for being a movie star-and destroyed City I made our speeches-Republican's won ratings Crooked Hillary suffers from plain old bad judgement-Bernie said the same, looking again on the shaughraun, doing billiardmarking in the spleen.
In mourning for Sallust, Mulligan says. That ends when I was going swimmingly … —Most pertinent question, the sophist.
―Are you there! Eh? As 'twere, in 2018!
THE DISSOLUTION OF THE CANVASSER AT WORK. GENTLEMEN OF PEACE. SUFFICIENT FOR THE DISSOLUTION OF HIGH MORALE.
―Kasich was never a fan of Colin Powell after his weak understanding of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq disaster. -Bloom is at the royal university dinner. Now if he got paralysed there and no-one knew how to win the election, despite her statements to the window. I win-I am not being able to lose by going with me on healthcare as soon as ObamaCare folds-not long.
8, she's out! Mr Crawford!
I have been in office.
LIFE ON PROBOSCIS.
Her temperament is bad! -Will you tell him he can kiss my royal Irish arse, Myles, one after another, wiping off with their handkerchiefs the plumjuice that dribbles out of this web massive increases of ObamaCare skyrocketing premiums & deductibles, bad trade deals or that I was looking for a fellow to back a pace.
IMPROMPTU. WHAT?
―Lenehan said. —Hop and carry one, co-ome thou dear one! He was.
HIS NATIVE DORIC. THE CROZIER AND THE POINT.
―I like that. She is strong and doing a forensic analysis of Melania's speech than the very dishonest. They are a mighty people.
―Mr Bloom said, holding it ajar, paused. —I'll answer it, the newsboy said.
―-What was he doing in Irishtown?
—Doughy Daw!
―Mr Bloom said, raising two quiet claws. -Doughy Daw. Made all sorts of goodies by Cruz campaign.
OMINOUS— YET CAN YOU BLAME THEM?
Right and left parallel clanging ringing a doubledecker and a liar!
―When will the U.S., but outside, criminals!
Countries charge U.S. companies taxes or tariffs while the U.S., and Raul Castro wasn't even there to greet him.
MEMORABLE BATTLES RECALLED. HOUSE OF THE HEART OF THE PEN.
―#Debate One of the land of promise. Established 1763.
―Our very weak and ineffective Senator, goofy Elizabeth Warren, we’d have no country.
#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce#1922#automatically generated text#Patrick Mooney#Aeolous#politics#American politics#presidential elections#21st century#Twitter#Donald Trump#2016#2017
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Tom Hanks is, arguably, the biggest movie star in the world. His films have grossed hundreds of millions of dollars and won him two Oscars and four Golden Globes. He also recently nabbed a Presidential Medal Of Freedom from President Obama just for being a stand-up guy. Why, then, would Tom Hanks take precious time out of his rich-guy Hollywood schedule to host a public radio show? Probably because that show, Wait Wait… Don’t Tell Me! isn’t just a public radio show—it’s the public radio show. Now in its 20th season, Wait Wait is NPR’s flagship product, drawing almost four million listeners weekly when it’s broadcast on more than 700 member stations. (The podcast version is also downloaded more than 700,000 times a week.)A wry, slightly self-satisfied game show, Wait Wait… Don’t Tell Me is normally hosted by Peter Sagal. Each week, Sagal and announcer-scorekeeper Bill Kurtis are joined by a panel of Wait Wait-caliber wits—mostly authors, podcasters, and mild comedians—for a quiz inspired by local news. With Sagal out on vacation for last week’s Wait Wait, the show reached out to Hanks. Hanks said yes, and the result was an episode that taped this past Thursday in Chicago and was attended by this reporter.Wait Wait’s Executive Producer Mike Danforth said the Hanks’ offer came because he knew Hanks was a fan. “He’s been on the show in the past,” said Danforth, noting that “one of [the show’s] old producers has a sort of relationship with him or a member of his family.” Danforth said getting Hanks was surprisingly simple: “I texted a friend and said, ‘Hey, do you think Tom Hanks would ever host a show?’ and it was maybe two hours later when I got an email from him.” Hanks hosting wasn’t just a half-assed “show up two hours before the show” effort, either. He spent about three days in Wait Wait’s Chicago office—which Hanks described on stage Thursday as “not as glam as one would have thought,” what with its “sad folding table” and scant office supplies—to whip up jokes about why Republicans are supposedly more attractive than Democrats and a Jimmy John’s in Florida that got in hot water when two of its employees used bread dough as a jump rope before baking and serving it to customers. According to Danforth, the move to bring Hanks fully into the fold was made because Wait Wait “has a routine, and for better or worse, it works.”That’s not to say the show didn’t try to incorporate Hanks’ particular set of skills. In a new game the show called “The Role Of A Lifetime,” Hanks channeled his Oscar-winning acting chops to play “a failing pile of garbage,” prompting the panelists to ask questions to try and figure out what he was. The results fell a little flat, though it was interesting to see how quickly Hanks could think on his feet.If nothing else, that was the takeaway from Thursday’s taping, which clocked in at about three hours long and was subsequently edited down into the one-hour show Wait Wait listeners heard over the weekend. Hanks, who at one point called himself “a middle-aged charm monster,” is sharp, smart, and surprisingly dirty. (When asked early on how often he gets to perform live, Hanks responded, “Quite frankly, about twice a week at home.”) He spent a good portion of both the actual show and the in-between segments making fun of himself and the Wait Wait gang, even calling the audience “the happiest crowd of ugly Democrats I’ve ever seen.” He had an especially good rapport with panelist Paula Poundstone, who spent most of the episode either marveling that “Woody from Toy Story” was standing 5 feet from her or trying to get Hanks to be her plus-one for her upcoming 40th high school reunion.Hanks, it turns out, isn’t just a showman when the camera (or the microphone) is on. Between takes, he’d sing songs about the show’s technical manager, Lorna White, and fought a lengthy period of giggles when he found out he accidentally said “fartaceuticals” instead of “pharmaceuticals” during the show’s lightning-fast quiz round. When asked to test his mic, he quickly and clearly did enunciation drills to the phrase “Peter Sagal is a sucker,” and tried in vain, both on air and off, to get anything fun out of call-in guest Simone Biles, who didn’t seem to get any of the panel’s jokes.That charming conviviality even extended into the post-show Q&A, something that was surprisingly helped by the 450-person audience’s mostly cogent and interesting questions. What really stuck, though, was Hanks’ response to the final question of the night, asked by a middle-aged man sitting smack in the middle of the room: “What do you see the next four years looking like?” The audience sat in pin-drop silence as Hanks, who played up his reassuring role as America’s dad on Saturday Night Live last fall, called on both his life and role as a lay-historian to once again reassure the very clearly Drumpf-uneasy audience. “We’re going to be all right,” Hanks said, “but we’re not going to be all right overnight.” He emphasized the importance of holding our politicians accountable and contributing day by day to the “multitude of drops” needed to make up a powerful, all-consuming ocean of good deeds and good people, an idea he said he took away from the Cloud Atlas script. Hanks also harkened back to what he remembers from the Vietnam War era, which he said “was the shittiest time imaginable.” Citing the era’s racial strife, lying politicians, and family dinners that could turn into fistfights on a nightly basis, Hanks said we should reference those years to demonstrate that just because something is terrible doesn’t mean we can’t get through it. It was warmly reassuring and sweetly smart, and—paired with his hard-working, freely given Wait Wait performance—confirmed that Tom Hanks is exactly the guy we all want him to be.Wait Wait... Don’t Tell Me! live with Tom Hanks (Photo: Andrew Gill for NPR)
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