Joyce staying at the cabin with Hopper and El to keep them safe bc no one in Hawkins knows they’re alive. Will, Jonathan and Argyle staying at the Wheeler's bc they have more room and presumably aren't in danger like the others.

OH WAIT there's a witch hunt for the Hellfire club, which means all the boys are in danger from the townspeople. OH WAIT the boy who came back to life has returned from the West, the same boy whose assumed death jumpstarted this small town's curse in the first place! The same boy who apparently everyone and their fathers knew was gay...

THE END IS NEAR! THE GAYS ARE RESPONSIBLE!

+ Time jump early somewhere in between.

Now picture how that would look in an 8 episode story format, leading up to a final battle lasting about 2+ hrs, and that's loosely how s5 is gonna go down.

Jason & The Rex Goes In-Depth about New Video "Bullets Are Flying" - Exclusive Interview

Recently debuting with an activist video on gun violence, Jason & The Rex is stepping onto the scene with "Bullets Are Flying". A mixture of hip-hop, future-funk, and dream-pop combine to create a dense soundscape of vibrant horns, a melancholy piano lead, and strange-sounding synths. Jason's pensive, sometimes manic, flow washes over creating a dialogue on the gun violence issue in the US. Jason was kind enough to sit down and give GIGSoup the exclusive inside scoop on the creation and inspiration behind "Bullets Are Flying". https://youtu.be/g5DTa6cvfcs Tell us about writing the song "Bullets Are Flying"…. what emotions were you feeling at the time? Chaotic. Disoriented. There’s a scene in Dario Argento’s Suspiria where one of the characters falls into a pit of barbed wire. The more she tries to escape, the more she bleeds. It’s a mangled inner conflict. That’s kind of how I felt when I was writing “Bullets Are Flying.” I felt more and more entangled in a barbed wire mess of thoughts and emotions and political jabs and daily, present concerns. When the Parkland incident happened, I was already feeling very professionally and creatively stalled. I’m an actor by vocation. At the time, I was going for a lot of Chinatown thug types -- violent, gun-wielding, angry Asian dudes. I was getting rejected over and over again for projects that I didn’t really even believe in. I felt inauthentic as an artist. Music was supposed to be my outlet, but everything I created was stale and uninspired. And the worst part, I felt like I was failing as a citizen. I was -- and still am -- a reasonably privileged adult who has skills and a higher education. The gun crisis stripped teenagers of their adolescence, and those teenagers responded by standing up to the gun lobby and the politicians they controlled. What was I doing? Beating myself up because, after several attempts, I still couldn’t land a part as a stereotype on Iron Fist? Something snapped after Parkland. All the “thoughts and prayers” and familiar rallying cries came to a fever pitch, and I just started writing down…stuff. I was trying to express grief, to articulate my panic and anger, while also trying to provide commentary. I wanted to find an explanation. And someone to blame. A way out. Or a way forward. I wanted to crack the code on gun violence. I was also coming to terms with my guilt. My social posturing. My vanity in all of this. In trying to create this piece, was I turning the attention to myself? It wasn’t joyous or inspiring. It was a regurgitation of all the thoughts and feelings -- all the stuff -- I hadn’t processed.

The refrain of the song actually came to me much earlier, quite randomly. I like to think it’s because it’s more of a passive observation. Bullets are flying. Where? And why? While they fly, people are mourning. These are constants. Whereas, the two verses -- they’re snapshots of that gloomy winter morning when I was pacing back and forth on my bed trying to make sense of Parkland. It’s like I was trying to extricate myself from the gun culture and the epidemic it has created. But every thought would just pull me back into the mess. Barbed wire. Can’t help thinking about it. Gun violence. Mass shootings. I dream of ways to reshape gun culture. But, uh oh, gun culture has shaped giant parts of who I am. And I contribute back into gun culture. Not only do I love a bloody action thriller. I routinely express my love for John Wayne movies. I think the Punisher is a pretty cool anti-hero. In debating and discussing issues related to gun violence, we shout into our echo chambers while attacking opposing views. We display our alliances. We present ourselves on a side. Scoring our solidarity points is just as essential to gun culture as shooting the guns themselves. In writing this song, I was incredibly self-conscious. Was I just filling my notebook with solidarity points and quips from self-reflection? I offered my perspective on gun violence, while simultaneously reflecting and taking apart that perspective. I felt angry and powerful. But I also felt guilty and insignificant. Is saying something mostly an empty gesture? Probably. But not saying something is equally, if not more, disconcerting. Maybe this song is entirely descriptive of this emotional purgatory I create after a mass shooting like Parkland, where processing anything is just squirming in my barbed wire, while bullets are flying. What is your favorite lyric in the song? "I’m an actor, so I know how to weep. "

There are lots of hidden layers and meaning in the video… can you tell us what some of those are and why you chose to include them? I’m pretty fluid with my interpretation of the video. But most days, it goes something like this: Setting - The characters are in a place of purgatory. It’s that place I create when I’m trying to process gun violence. They may or may not know each other. Screens - On the screens, the characters stare at scenes involving their physical selves. Characters - I play the boy, and we designed the look to reflect someone in a prestigious position. On the TV’s, he’s probably a politician of some sort. I don’t think that’s who the boy is in real life, especially if the boy is me. But in this particular place of purgatory (maybe there are multiple rooms in purgatory), I’m presenting the politically active parts of myself. The dancer might be a whole separate character. She’s someone directly impacted by political leaders and their decisions. So in this place, we have a civic leader and someone he impacts. Seen this way, let’s say the boy is fried in the beginning. He’s lost his will. Been in purgatory too long. The dancer enters. Maybe she sees a party she’s currently attending in the real world. She pulls the boy out of his funk. They are actual human beings who can connect. When we hear about gun violence, our screens create abstracts of the event and the victims. But here in purgatory, the two have to make actual, physical contact. Their actions directly impact each other. Movement - There is a loose choreography. But, mainly, Ashley (the dancer) and I created a structure and improvised within it. Basically, there’s a struggle in the beginning. Japanese Butoh definitely informs the early interactions in the video, as the style can create a sense of shared grief. The movement becomes more playful and celebratory, which I think reflects another convoluted part of processing gun violence. After Parkland, I sunk into a pit of melancholy for probably no more than half a day and then I was out with my friends. We’d talk about mass shootings, but then we’d goof off, and the topic eventually recedes, until we’ve tuned it out completely (though temporarily). In the video, the TV screens are upfront and center in the beginning, but then the movement draws our attention to the characters themselves. There’s an ominous outro, where we intercut to the party-goers on the screens lying facedown on a roof. Lives lost to gun violence? In the purgatory place, we only have close-ups of the characters, many of which focus on the hands in spell-like gestures. The issue of gun violence does seem to have this elusive, enigmatic quality. So maybe whatever happens between these two in this purgatory has some ineffable effect in the world.

What do you hope fans gain as a result from watching/listening to your art? Mostly, I hope this keeps the conversation going. Like I said about the video, the topic always recedes, often because the screens start showing other things to us. As artists, I think we can keep things front and center. It’s funny. When I finished the video, I came across grandson’s “Thoughts and Prayers” single. For a whiff, I felt like my project would be redundant. But, of course, until it’s a non-issue, I say the more content we produce, the better. On a more practical note, I’m pledging all the royalties from this project towards organizations like March For Our Lives. So when people listen or watch, they are indirectly or directly (starting to really question my understanding of this concept) benefiting the cause. I think it allows listeners a little extra way to participate in reform measures. You had a hand in creating all of the aspects of the single… writing, producing, creating the video….. tell us about that process as an artist. How does it influence your work? It slows down the process by too much. No, but really, it allows complete ownership over the process, at least of the track itself. I’m entirely responsible for every aspect of it. Holding the work so precious does create a lot of room for self-doubt, but the fears of commitment also pushes for more experimentation. When I create tracks, it’s like I’m recording and re-mixing an exploration. Or maybe it’s like I’m a one-man jam band in my room. It certainly allows me to include weird ideas like recording the words “thoughts and prayers” and using that sample to create different drum sounds. You can’t really tell when you hear it, but I think it’s a fun little Easter Egg. As for the video, I came up with a structure, but this is where I wanted to open up the perspective. I’m kind of enjoying the thought that creating the track itself was like the boy in the video struck in purgatory alone. Then with the video, I’ve invited other perspectives, just as there’s now another person with the boy in purgatory. I’m a nerd, I know. But, yes, I think because I gave myself a clear foundation after working on the track, we were able to do a lot of exploring with the concept of the video, which then allows for its fluid interpretation. Fun fact: the video was originally supposed to involve a dancer and an agent of death battling over a remote that controls one single TV screen displaying a party. You've spoken about how you want your music to be a platform for activism….. what are some other issues you are passionate about? There are a lot. But I’m just going to list one here to emphasize how important it is. THE ENVIRONMENT. Tell us about your upcoming album….. what can fans expect to hear? It’s tentatively called Synthesizer or Variations of: An Endemic Cycle. The EP will have about 6or 7 songs that expand upon the narrative in “Bullets Are Flying.” Just as “Bullets Are Flying” is set in emotional purgatory, the other songs will be placed in their own settings. All the songs will fit into a narrative that has a circular structure. I’m designing musical themes that provide a through-line in the tracks. If you play the album and replay it, the narrative from the last track continues right into the first. You can start the album from any track, and the narrative will continue and circle back. I’m also creating visuals for each track. So if you were to edit them together in a specific and play it on loop, it might feel like one single never-ending movie no matter where you begin. Gun violence is so cyclical. You can enter into it at any point -- initial grief, debate, ennui, etc. --and it’ll eventually loop right back to where you started. How would you describe your musical sound? Musical genres are so bewildering to me. I guess I’ll say this: I’m sort of finding a hip-hop voice in other genres I love. They’re mainly psychedelic dream-pop, future funk, new wave, or even cinematic anime soundtracks. If my process were a scene, I’d like to imagine Childish Gambino getting really high and watching the news with Tame Impala, and maybe Jon Bellion barges in and blasts his new album. I don’t know that these are the sounds that come to mind if you were to listen to my work. But they’re certainly the sounds I’m after, sounds that provide a framework when I produce my music. Read the full article

Contributing Op-Ed Writer: Designing a More Inclusive City

New Post has been published on http://usnewsaggregator.com/contributing-op-ed-writer-designing-a-more-inclusive-city/

Contributing Op-Ed Writer: Designing a More Inclusive City

“The Arsenal of Exclusion and Inclusion,” a forthcoming book by Tobias Armborst, Daniel D’Oca and Georgeen Theodore, who lead the architecture, planning and research collective Interboro, refers to such things — which include cul-de-sacs, cold water, “No Loitering” signs, the Fair Housing Act — as “weapons.” They are the policies, practices and physical artifacts used by planners, policy makers, developers, real estate brokers, community activists and others to draw, redraw or erase the lines that divide us.

“It really is a war out there,” says Ms. Theodore, who explains that the use of the term “weapons” is meant to show that it’s a fight — while also highlighting the agency of the people who can wield these weapons for good or bad.

Once you first notice the sort of weapons “Arsenal” discusses, you can’t stop noticing them: those seemingly decorative “anti-homeless” spikes installed on the exterior ledges of buildings, benches with metal armrests set close together to prevent anyone from lying down, even classical music piped through outdoor speakers to deter teenagers from congregating in front of convenience stores.

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Benches often feature “armrests” that can make benches more accessible for the elderly and people with disabilities. These armrests also deter the homeless from sleeping in public spaces. With the Archisuit, Sarah Ross, an artist, creates something that allows the wearer to “fit into, or onto, structures designed to deny them.” Credit Interboro, left; Sarah Ross

None of this is illegal, and collectively we seem resigned to it. These are subtle gestures, but they’re becoming ubiquitous. (There are many far less subtle examples, such as the “pee paint” deployed in cities like Hamburg and San Francisco, which makes urine bounce back at the offending urinator.)

Ms. Theodore recounted that Heinrich Zille, the early-20th-century illustrator and chronicler of life in the Berlin tenements, once said something like “You can kill a man with an apartment as with an ax.” The same could probably be said about a map: 1930s residential security maps (through redlining) cut off entire neighborhoods from investment, rigging the game against those neighborhoods’ mainly nonwhite residents.

The fact that life expectancy in Baltimore’s poorest ZIP codes is about 20 years shorter than in the richest ones, Ms. Theodore says, “is certainly not the result of ‘bad choices’ on the part of poorer residents, but is the direct result of earlier planning decisions. So, yes, space matters, and sometimes it is being used as a weapon.”

Tools of exclusion aren’t new, but we are gaining a much more comprehensive understanding of the innumerable ways they are being deployed. Richard Rothstein’s recent book “The Color of Law: A Forgotten History of How Our Government Segregated America,” for example, shows how policy pursued by the federal government after World War II was designed to subsidize the development of suburbs on a condition that the homes be sold only to white families and that deeds prohibited resale to African-Americans.

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Mr. Rothstein’s writing is measured, but everything he relates is chilling in its deliberateness and intent. Page after page reveals the extent to which segregation was implemented, resulting in the divisiveness that so characterizes us today.

“The Arsenal” goes less deep but broader, addressing private, public and shared spaces. A series of essays by Interboro and in-the-trenches contributors show that the ways we plan and design our built environment, and allow (or forbid) access to it, have a serious impact on everything from economic mobility to public health.

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A graphic interpretation of “The Arsenal of Exclusion & Inclusion,” an encyclopedia of 202 tools used by architects, planners, policy-makers, developers, real estate brokers, activists, and other urban actors in the United States to restrict or increase access to urban space. Credit Lesser Gonzalez

One entry describes the “Ugly Law,” a city ordinance created in Portland, Ore., in 1881. In 1916 a woman making a living selling newspapers on the street who was told by authorities that she was “too terrible a sight for the children to see” and given money to get out of town. A flurry of such laws were passed throughout the United States between 1867 and World War I, targeting those we would now refer to as disabled. More recently, “blood relative ordinances” have been proposed by white communities, requiring tenants to be related by blood to their landlords, as well as “kinship ordinances” that require prospective tenants to secure a letter of recommendation from a current resident.

We see variants of this everywhere these days. This past summer’s tourist crackdowns in Italy, for instance, were understandably intended to stem the tide of selfie sticks and Trevi-fountain-wading but also placed restrictions on so-called indecorous behavior, obstructing access to city centers to anyone officialdom deems undesirable.

Another entry in the book addresses the bike lane, which today is one of the most volatile flash points of civic life. Many believe bike lanes make a city more accessible, while others see them as a tool of gentrification.

Not all of these tools are exclusionary. In New York, Ms. Theodore says, “they also seem to stoke people’s imagination when it comes to devising new inclusionary tools to make the city livable for a greater number of people.”

She also cites limited-equity co-ops, naturally occurring retirement communities (NORCs) and rent control as “accidental” inclusionary tools, things that weren’t designed to be inclusionary but end up making the city accessible for a greater number of people. The flat transit fare is another example. “All subway trips, whether you’re traveling three blocks or 38 miles, cost the same set price of $2.75,” Ms. Theodore notes.

So what can we do as citizens? To begin, as the Interboro team suggests, start noticing these barriers to inclusion. Make small gestures that can have a big impact.

Involving communities in the process is a clear way to err on the side of inclusion. Take your cue from a great group like Build a Better Block and get your neighbors out in the streets: Place exhibits and pop-up stores in vacant storefronts, host a street party. Actions like these can even help to change restrictive zoning: When Build a Better Block’s Jason Roberts first closed off a street for a festival, he and his team placed signs everywhere saying that their interventions were in violation of existing codes. They then did a walk-through with City Council members, who, recognizing the absurdity of many of the regulations, later worked to change them.

Take action to make others feel welcome. Support (with votes, dollars, your presence at community meetings) practices designed to build more accessible towns, cities and suburbs — things like community land trusts, inclusionary zoning and projects such as the recently opened Exchange House, a vacant house in Akron, Ohio, that was converted into a cultural hostel and gathering space. It provides temporary housing plus health and social services and programs for the neighborhood’s immigrant community. Another great effort? On Friday, the Gehl Institute announced the Public Life Data Protocol, which aims to develop a common language around public spaces so that they can be better designed for those who use them. (They’re working with San Francisco’s planning department to reimagine the Civic Center Plaza, by the way. Seating will be part of the plan, along with data the protocol collects — from all users of the plaza.)

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Inequality is escalating, and these spaces make that reality visible. It doesn’t have to continue this way. Everyone has the potential to act and, in a way, to be the designer of his or her environment. This is a call to action.

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Dramaturgy for Aleppo: David Cazalet @ Edfringe 2017

REQUIEM FOR ALEPPO

Pleasance at EICC, Venue 150

Wednesday 16th August

7.30pm

“Aleppo is no longer - all that is left are its stories”

– Anonymous, Citizen of Aleppo

Following a sold-out evening at Sadler’s Wells in April, this very special, one-off event REQUIEM FOR ALEPPO takes place at the Edinburgh International Conference Centre on 16 August as part of the Pleasance’s Fringe programme.

Conceived by composer David Cazalet with choreography by Jason Mabana, REQUIEM FOR ALEPPO aims to raise awareness of the Syrian humanitarian crisis and funds to combat it.

All proceeds from ticket sales go to the charity Syria Relief.

Following a sold-out world premiere of Requiem for Aleppo at Sadler’s Wells in April, this very special event takes place in Edinburgh on 16th August as part of the Pleasance’s programme for Edinburgh Festival Fringe 2017.

In response to the human tragedy of Aleppo composer David Cazalet has written Requiem for Aleppo, a personal lament in music which fuses Christian liturgy with early Arabic poetry, mixing the beautiful voices of Juliana Yazbeck and Abdul Salam Kheir with more formal choral composition and counterpoint.

What was the inspiration for this performance? 

The despair of the people of Aleppo. The sheer inability of being able to sit in front of the TV each night to watch the horror of the war. In the middle of last year I decided to go to bed early each night, wake at 4 am and write a requiem piece combing the lyrics of the Requiem mass as used by Mozart, Verdi etc., interweaving into it 12 century Arabic poetry – also setting this to music, leaving space throughout for contemporary voices to speak about their lives so that they might be heard. From a musical perspective I wanted to honour the rich musical heritage of Aleppo. I then thought dance would be a good way to bring this together as a performance piece as the abstractness of contemporary dance would be the best medium to get to a universal message beyond the politics.

My inspiration continues as, following its premiere at Sadler’s Wells in April, it will tour the Middle East and beyond, continuing to raise awareness and money.

Is performance still a good space for the public discussion of ideas? 

Yes – if it has integrity and passion it is the best space for the public discussion of ideas. And this matters more than ever now in an increasingly fragmenting world. This is what Art is for.

How did you go about gathering the team for it? 

I found all the musicians/singers through different networks in London. When Jason Mabana put his name to the dance element we put out a call for auditions across many different dance sites. We had responses from over 600 dancers from all over the world. After many auditions convened at the Rambert School of Dance we chose 12.

How did you become interested in making performance? 

Because, as suggested above, performance is probably the best space for the public discussion of ideas. And the content and intent of this piece is specifically geared to this.

Is there any particular approach to the making of the show?

To find people whose passion and integrity shine through in every part of the show, to make it all and iterative process, to ensure that the environment is right for experimentation. To ensure that whatever is portrayed, sung, played is done with utmost respect and reverence for the subject matter.

Does the show fit with your usual productions?

This is my first such production. As an artist I am a singer songwriter who sings under a different name.

What do you hope that the audience will experience?

Empathy, compassion for the people of Syria, and understanding that behind the catch-all word ‘refugee’ there is a person, a sense of the futility of war, an understanding of the fragility of life, a momentary unity through art to the lives lost, a realisation that those who lost their lives were just like you and me – with the same aspirations and loves, a sense that the loss of  Aleppo, a place of great history, tolerance and sophistication, is humanity’s loss.

What strategies did you consider towards shaping this audience experience? 

To be truthful, to allow for the live spoken testament to carry much of the non-abstract impact, to create big and then intimate pieces of music to move people, to allow for the right light changes to create different moods and most important, to allow freedom for the choreography to explore as best it can the subject matter.

Choreographer Jason Mabana has set the 'big, evocative score' (The Times) to dance, bringing together a ‘crack team of international dancers’ (The Stage) to emphasise the truly international element of this piece. The result is a uniquely moving performance interwoven with powerful real life testimony of former residents of Aleppo. Following the sell-out world premiere of Requiem for Aleppo at Sadler's Wells last April, this powerful collaboration between musicians, dancers and those affected by war is already creating waves and is coming to Edinburgh on 16th August before a planned international tour. Now is the chance to see this exceptional collaboration, a collective expression of solidarity with the people of Syria, and a way of donating money to those suffering in Syria as all profits from ticket sales go to the internationally renowned charity Syria Relief.

Fringe audiences will see a slightly reworked version of Requiem for Aleppo with a couple new pieces added to the show.

Anthony Alderson, Pleasance Director said: “In the year of 70th anniversary of Edinburgh’s Festivals, festivals created to reunite Europe and the world through art and creativity following war, this piece is not only an expression of our unity and support for the people of Aleppo in a period of conflict but also a poignant reminder of why our festivals were founded and what they celebrate.” 

The work brings together 12 dancers from across the world. Cazalet’s original music is a combination of Requiem Mass lyrics set to choral music, linked by Arabic poetry from the 11th, 12th and 13th centuries, also set to music, and interwoven throughout with the voices of people from Aleppo telling their real-life stories - stories gathered from recent interviews and which have fed into the development of the work.

Syria Relief is the largest Syria focused charity registered in the UK. With a solid network of committed management and logistics staff on the ground inside Syria, Syria Relief operate in some of the most hard to reach areas of Syria, including besieged areas.

With this level of expertise on the ground, Syria Relief implements humanitarian projects inside Syria in a number of different sectors from education, healthcare, livelihood, protection to food security and sponsoring orphans in the most desperate areas. Syria Relief is directly supporting civilians and displaced communities while providing the tools and training to help them become self-sufficient in their altered circumstances. Since their work started in 2011, they have touched the lives of 2 million people distributing more than 75 million dollars worth of aid.

Composer David Cazalet said: “I want Requiem for Aleppo to be a reminder, now and ongoing, of the suffering of a people and what the world has lost. It is an appeal to our common humanity - an expression of grief articulated in movement, song and design. It is a refusal to pay silent witness to a humanitarian crisis". Requiem for Aleppo is written in memoriam for the lives that have been lost, destroyed, dislocated and displaced, it is a lament for the destruction of a city of great sophistication, history and tolerance whose loss is humanity’s loss.”

Further info on creative team can be found at http://ift.tt/2tlV8f7.

"Requiem for Aleppo is more powerful than the biggest bomb" - Dr Elie Elhadj, former resident of Aleppo

"Requiem for Aleppo is a brilliant act of love, remembrance and empathy... a celebration of our common humanity, values and hope." Fardous Bahbouh, Journalist & Oscar-winning documentary translator

Venue: Pleasance at EICC, Lennox Theatre Edinburgh International Conference Centre The Exchange Edinburgh, 150 Morrison St, Edinburgh EH3 8EE Date: Wednesday August 16th at 7:30pm Tickets: £15 Standard Booking: www.pleasance.co.uk Pleasance Ticket Office: 0131 556 6550

from the vileblog http://ift.tt/2ujNnn2