distant cities

anonymous asked:

lmao muslim women only wear hijab because koran says that women body is dirty and you can only show your body to your father or man. koran control women. i'm happy that i'm human who independently and made independently decisions. not follow some misogyny book writen by man god who thinks men are better than women. religons are shit. believe in yourself not in some god man.

first of all, thank you for hiding behind the anonymous icon and judging me for a small piece of cloth i put on my head, it just proves how ignorant you are <3 

now let me tell you a few things about the quran (yes, quran not Koran),  all too often, people read the quran selectively, taking phrases out of context,  use it for whatever point they want to make and i think you’re one of those people. unlike what you believe, islam is not a religion where women sit and take orders, actually I do not know of another religious tradition in which women were so central, so present, so active in its formative history, from the first years of islam women scholars taught judges and imams, issued fatwas, and traveled to distant cities. Some made lecture tours across the Middle East. the real question here is “Are Men and Women Equal Before Allah?” and any person with a brain, who read the quran knows that the answere to this question is YES  just one example is the verse 4:43 from sourat a’nissa’ ( the women), it starts by saying men and women are created “from one soul.” So the Koran starts from the assumption of absolute equality in creation.

“what do you think about all violent thing in writen in koran? murder, rape, violence, about men controlling everything women do? “ wow what kind of quran did you read??? bc the quran i read wasn’t like this, it was quite the opposit actually, the principle reason of fighting in Islam is self-defensive  “To those against whom war is made, permission is given (to fight), because they are wronged; and verily, God is most powerful for their aid…If God did not defend one set of people by means of another, then monasteries, churches, synagogues, and mosques, in which the name of God is commemorated in abundant measure, would surely have been destroyed…” (22:39-40)

Further, Muslims are commanded not to be aggressive: “Fight in the cause of God those who fight you, but do not transgress limits; for God loveth not transgressors” (2:190) In addition, when the enemy inclines toward peace, Muslims are commanded to cease hostilities: “But if the enemy incline towards peace, do thou (also) incline towards peace” (8:61). The guiding principle of Islam with respect to non-Muslims is one of tolerance and mutual respect, plain and simple: “God does not forbid you from dealing kindly and justly with those who do not fight you for (your) Faith nor drive you out of your homes: for God loveth those who are just.” (60:8)
now let’s talk about hijab. Muslim society prizes female modesty.  Hijab frees women from being thought of as sexual objects of desire or from being valued for their looks, or body shape rather then their minds and intellect.  No longer slaves to consumerism, hijab liberates women from the need to conform to unrealistic stereotypes and images dictated by the media.  Women wearing hijab have expressed that dressing modestly and covering their hair, minimises sexual harassment in the workplace. The aura of privacy created by hijab is indicative of the great value Islam places upon women. Hijab can be a symbol of piety and it can be a sign of great inner strength and fortitude.  A woman wearing hijab becomes a very visible sign of Islam that’s why,  in the last 30 years hijab has emerged as a sign of Islamic consciousness.  Many women see wearing the hijab as indicative of their desire to be part of an Islamic revival, especially in countries where the practice of Islam is discouraged or even forbidden.

whew that was long, sorry if i made many mistakes english isn’t my first language (not even 2nd), thank you.

Sunday Respite - A Bountiful Bar-full of Fantasy Beers and Liquors

Ah, alcohol. It’s something that I, as a person (rather than an amorphous blog), rarely even touch outside of the realms of tabletop and electronic RPGs. I find its flavour to be sickly, its strength to be grotesque, but its value as a story-telling and world-building tool to far out-weigh its less than palatable taste. The food - and therefore, drink - of a culture can be just as clear of a clue into its intricacies as that of an exhaustive recital of their far-gone history. Or, as I prefer to put it; one good drink is worth ten-thousand words. There, some wisdom with your blog-post.

So here, gathered upon my shelves and cabinets, are the finest ales, wines, liquors, and spirits known to human tongues and hearts. They shine with a certain heavenly glimmer as the sunlight bounces off of their smiling faces and hand-scribed labels. Yet the greatest glow is the warmth they gift from inside your gut. So, please, drink away, or simply peruse for as long as you wish; I have plenty and to spare.


Slick, dark liquor, served in small, dainty bottles of barely 4-inches in height. They are corked with a rubber cylinder with a ring-pull affixed at their top, decorated with the ivory-white silhouette of a cat’s head on the bottle. The fluid itself fizzes and burns the mouth and throat like piping-hot tea, flavoured with the spiced, exotic flair of those outland folk who care to experiment with their foods beyond salt and honey. The more easily intoxicated drinker may find that they are unable to talk for hours after drinking Black-Cat, as their tongue lolls about their mouth like a limp, wet fish.


This drink is apparently sourced from the sap of a mangrove tree in the swampy lowlands. It is collected by the native folk of the region in tubes of bamboo, and sold on as a packaged beverage for good coin in healthy, regular bouts of trade. The drink is a pale-yellow, ichorous, fluid that turns to syrup if left in direct sunlight. It is sweet, almost like honey, and is strong enough to even turn a barrel-chested regular of the most rugged of taverns into a babbling infant after only two, full pipes. The good news is that drinkers always say they awaken the day after with a clear head full of healthy, happy dreams.


The truth is that noone truly understands just where Hagspit is brewed, or if it even is anymore. Whenever it seems that the alehouses in bustling cities and distant hamlets alike run down to their last few stout pint-bottles of the stuff, there is always a full crate of the stuff forgotten at the back of the cellar. It’s not exactly a popular drink either. It’s colouring is a sickly and inconsistent swilling of ocean blues and moldy greens that stain the teeth and putrefy the breath. Apparently though, with enough of the stuff downed in one sitting, you could find yourself getting stung through the heart by a fat, black scorpion and hardly even lose a heartbeat in response. If you ever need to wade knee-deep into a wasp nest or risk a poisoning at a suspect banquet; drink a full pint of Hagspit and tip your barman well.


The Rootwater recipe is as varied between one town and another as the people who drink it. The drink itself is little more than a brewing process where the gaps in the ingredient list are filled-in by whatever is at hand in place of what was more common further down the road. One town may have a specific vegetable root listed, but in the next settlement down, that root may not grow there. So, instead of wasting trade on that root by itself, they replace it with a ground-up beetle shell that is more-or-less the same. That same beetle may be replaced by a rare mineral extract, chemical compound, magical mixture, or entirely secret additive that is only known to that brewer alone, further adding to the mystery of the Rootwater recipe. It wouldn’t be too obscure to hear of turf-wars or violent disputes between rival, neighboring breweries and their respective appreciators alike.


‘Smoke’ is a rather literal name for the entirely unbranded and unlabeled glass hip-flasks sold at snake-oil stands across the nation. Within the curved, polished glass is a half-pint of swirling, smokey, grey air. When un-capped and poured into a glass or open mouth, the smoke pools and slowly begins to liquefy into a silvery fluid after a few, brief moments. ‘Smoke’ is a supposedly luxurious drink that can, at once, ‘heighten your spirits, senses, and stature’ - according to the grinning salesmen that speak ever so highly of each of their products whilst eagerly counting their coin when your back is turned. The reality is not quite as perfect, as the drink is intensely alcoholic. An imbiber will stumble around the streets after a single swig, but the drunkenness only lasts for a mere hour, or even less. A favourite of lunch-break drinkers and those looking to enjoy themselves in the evening, but at no expense of their morning.


Pixie x


todreamforever  asked:

modern kanej + airports/airplanes?

when the roles are switched, stars as close as city lights, cities distant like stars, she’s bookend by a stranger and a window, trapped in a boundless state of in-between—leaving her world for another. though she’s passionate about her charities and traveling from country to country is inevitable, she thinks about the warm bed she’s leaving behind, the too bitter coffee, the warm hands. she looks toward the expanse of sky, overwhelmed by the feel of her own heart pounding in her chest as she’s dragged farther and farther away from him. her home. her desires exist in two separate realms. 

she wonders if it’ll always feel like this, dreaded concessions and sacrifices, if she’ll always feel like she’s leaving a part of herself behind. she presses her palm flat against the cold glass, feels her stomach dip as the plane climbs, and she thinks i miss you already.

trying to focus on the positives, she thinks two weeks ahead when she’ll return, when the plane declines for landing, and she’ll feel the pull to the ground. the pull home. it always feels like she’s falling. and he’s always waiting, fidgeting, watching—stretching his neck to see past the too tall strangers, the wrong suits and the families, tapping his cane restlessly. until their eyes meet and he gapes as if he’s seeing her for the first time, his body relaxes with a deep sigh of relief. and they’d maneuver around the assembly of people to get toward each other, she’d abandon her suitcase along the way, still reeling, and falling, falling, falling. then his hands would find hers and he’d smile the way he only does around her, lowering his forehead onto hers, the cool mint of his breath on her lips. she’d close her eyes and he’d squeeze her hands tight and she’d feel as if she finally stopped falling—and she was caught.

I realised I never posted the finished design for this babe! 

★A water Caster, they use their skills to revive even the most wilted flowers. They have a tendency to daydream, and often forget important dates, but they have a kind heart. The shop is passed down through the generations, their stellar reputation drawing customers from distant towns and cities.★

★1- A tea strainer on a chain worn around their neck, they often use the dried flowers to make personal blends.
★2- Handmade perfume, using oil distilled from the flowers.
★3- Twine and ribbons for presentation.
★4- A pair of scissors given to them by their grandmother.
★5- A custom made drawstring bag.

anonymous asked:

About the previous ask, thank you for the swift response. that's dreadful. Do they know that most polytheists don't even have that agenda? That some of us come from ethnic backgrounds ourselves? That our reasons would be for love of the gods, not to promote hatred. If anything, they are not true polytheists, they are terrorists just like any other terrorists there are in the world right now. Also correct me if I'm wrong but I don't think /ancient/ religions promote hatred in any way or form?

White supremacists are definitely aware that the majority of pagans and polytheists oppose their agenda. They’ve been confronted by organizations like Pagans Against Racism and Heathens United Against Racism. The reports of many pagans and polytheists recently resulted in one racist, misogynist, homophobic and transphobic Heathen group being banned from Facebook for offensive behavior. Many Big Name Pagans blog against hate on platforms such as Patheos and polytheist.com. Here at Tumblr, the Valkyrie Squad was created to combat racism, sexism, misogyny, ableism, homophobia and trans-phobia in the Heathen community. Many of us, including me, have encountered racists interested in Hellenic, Roman, Kemetic and Celtic religion here at Tumblr, and confronted them with the knowledge that their views are not held by the majority.

By and large, the prejudices of the ancient world were different than ours. But make no mistake: ancient cultures were often xenophobic and took for granted that people from other cultures could be bought and sold as slaves. That perception was based on cultural superiority, not skin color. Yet we also know that people traveled widely, and married people from distant places. Large, multicultural cities embraced a wide range of religions from many lands. While some cultures rejected gay or trans individuals, some religious cults welcomed them. Mainstream religious festivals commonly invited everyone to participate, though some ritual activities were open only to women or to men.

But there is no question that our gods love ALL humanity. They created the universe and all life. The gods encourage everyone to practice virtue, to love whom we will, to practice hospitality and welcome strangers. The gods do not restrict their calls, their attention, or their benevolence to people of any one race, ethnicity, national origin, sexual preference, gender identity and expression, ability, mental and physical health, age, financial means, level of education, or political perspective.

The majority of modern pagans and polytheists don’t seek to replicate the cultures of of antiquity. Few people fetishize ancient cultures to the extent that they reject modern medicine, or refuse modern hygiene and sanitation. In the same way, most modern pagans and polytheists reject xenophobia, racism, misogyny, homophobia, transphobia, and ableism, and support humanity’s historic trend towards more freedoms for more people, and peace between nations.

Racists come up with all sorts of delusional rhetoric to support their views, and to disparage those who oppose hate. For instance, they accuse anti-racist pagans and polytheists of being “contaminated” by Judeo-Christian teachings on sin and morality. White nationalists justify their beliefs about racial purity with pseudo-science, and subscribe to “alternative facts” about history. They reject any suggestion that their gods call people who aren’t white to worship them, and say such people are “delusional.” They certainly don’t study the Delphic Maxims, the Laws of Ma'at, or the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius - and if they did, they would only disparage these great moral and ethical teachings as “slave morality”. You’re right, Anon - they are like any other terrorists in the world right now, seeking to spread their hateful views through intimidation and violence.

Today, we are challenged by prejudice from mainstream religions, assaults by atheists, and attempts by white supremacists to appropriate our gods to promote their hate-filled messages. Our response must be to maintain our focus on our gods and our community. There is no reason for any one person to shoulder the responsibility to resist hate all alone. Let us respect and assist other pagans and polytheists of good will, because we are allies in this conflict. Let us remember to take care of our physical and spiritual selves, so we have strength for the long haul. And let us worship and share our love for our gods, because they’ve been through worse than this, and persisted through the centuries. The gods are our source of strength and solace in difficult times and situations, and they take pride in the diverse communities we create and maintain.

May our conduct always find favor with our gods, and may our communities be blessed!

May your marriage bring you all the exquisite excitements a marriage should bring, and may life grant you also patience, tolerance, and understanding.

May you always need one another — not so much to fill your emptiness as to help you know your fullness. A mountain needs a valley to be complete; the valley is more a valley because it has a mountain towering over it. So let it be with you and you.

May you need one another, but not out of weakness.

May you want one another, but not out of lack.

May you entice one another, but not compel one another.

May you succeed in all important ways with one another, and not fail in the little graces. May you look for things to praise, often say, “I love you!” and take no notice of small faults.

If you have quarrels that push you apart, may both of you hope to have good sense enough to take the first step back.

May you enter into the mystery which is the awareness of one another’s presence — no more physical than spiritual, warm and near when you are side by side, and warm and near when you are in separate rooms or even distant cities. May you have happiness, and may you find it making one another happy. May you have happiness, and may you find it making one another happy. May you have love, and may you find it loving one another!

James Dillet Freeman.

A photograph is both a pseudo-presence and a token of absence. Like a wood fire in a room, photographs—especially those of people, of distant landscapes and faraway cities, of the vanished past—are incitements to reverie. The sense of the unattainable that can be evoked by photographs feeds directly into the erotic feelings of those for whom desirability is enhanced by distance. The lover’s photograph hidden in a married women’s wallet, the poster photograph of a rock star tacked up over an adolescent’s bed, the campaign-button image of a politician’s face pinned on a voter’s coat, the snapshots of a cabdriver’s children clipped to the visor—all such talismanic uses of photographs express a feeling both sentimental and implicitly magical: they are attempts to contact or lay claim to another reality.
—  Susan Sontag, On Photography
A photograph is both a pseudo-presence and a token of absence. Like a wood fire in a room, photographs—especially those of people, of distant landscapes and faraway cities, of the vanished past—are incitements to reverie. The sense of the unattainable that can be evoked by photographs feeds directly into the erotic feelings of those for whom desirability is enhanced by distance.
—  Susan Sontag, On Photography

So you know those floating wind turbines from Big Hero 6? Turns out these turbines are already becoming a reality! This wind turbine is said to be in Alaska being tested, but hopes for the future of this turbine is that it will be there to provide energy for distant far out cities. These wind turbines work pretty much like Windmills and regular wind turbines but just give off more power due to the fact it receives more wind from being that high in the air(this prototype is said to give full power to 12 homes).But who knows, you might walk out of your house one day to see these things floating in the air being the everyday norm. But just lol what if BH6 is predicting future technology just like Pokémon did?

Photos from: Altaeros Energies(A.K.A the company that made the wind turbine)


Title: Iridescent

Pairing: Reader x Dean

Word count: 3,093

Theme song: Tuxedo Junction by the Glenn Miller Orchestra

This is part three to the Time and Space series. PART 1 - PART 2



Your name: submit What is this?

The clock over City Hall had already chimed ten o’clock before you’d run by it with a small, brown paper bag hanging from your wrist. It hit your legs with each step your heels clicked out over the sidewalk. The day was warming and the sun, your favorite star, hung lazy in the cloudless summer sky above.

You turned down side streets, past neighbors’ houses, past trees you used to climb a lifetime ago, and came to an abrupt stop just before turning up the front walk to your house. Your hair, somewhat windblown from your hurried trek back, blew over your eyes in the soft breeze and you pushed it away to better narrow your gaze at the figure sitting on your front porch swing.

Keep reading

she lives in futures cities
and distant memories;
she speaks in rhyme
and thinks in song
(in hymn)
(in psalm).

she sees mountains crumble
and empires topple;
she dreams of ruins
and hopes for rain
(for divinity)
(for faith).

she believes in salvation
and righteous indignation;
she rages at gods
and smirks at false idols
(false prophets)
(false disciples).

she loves as an afterthought
and yet forethought;
she worships heavens
and appreciates you
(accepts you)
(forgets you).

she saves sinners;
you kill God.

—  nothing crueller; sr
Gregzilla’s Thoughts on a Whole Buncha Anime

This past year I decided to expand my horizons and watch some anime.  While I always had an appreciation for Japanese animation, it wasn’t until recently that I really decided to sit down and watch a few anime series that I’d heard about.  I came out of it with mixed reactions, but a very big chunk of them were positive, and I got a ton of inspiration out of these shows in various ways - so I thought it’d be fun to do a quick run down of my thoughts and opinions on them!  I’ll stick to the ones that I’ve watched start to finish, no particular order.

Keep reading

Her and it’s lineage in the 21st century “anti”-Romcom

This essay contains potential spoilers.

About this time ten years ago, two decade defining “Rom-coms” were released at around the same time and broke a million hearts all over. Charlie Kaufman’s Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Sofia Coppola’s Lost in Translation signified a modern update of the well worn and a change in the taste of cinema-goers. Here were two films rooted in a traditionally mainstream and vacuous genre which forged an original standpoint, which was recognised both in Academy nominations, critic responses and impressive audiences, for films of their budget and size.

To argue then that Her, the new film by Spike Jonze, is an updated amalgamation of those two films shouldn’t really come as a surprise to anyone. In it’s plot and concept, there are clear parallels and influences from those monumental heart-breakers. Her shares Eternal Sunshine’s vaguely sci-fi element; being set in the not too distant future and showing the consequences of utilising modern, semi-fictional, technology as a solution to human relationships, and Lost in Translation’s theorising of latter-aged relationships and stunning cinematography thanks to magical yet alienating Tokyo, which here is a perpetually sun-drenched and bleached out Los Angeles, occasionally stood in for by Shanghai.

But aside from that, Spike Jonze also has a fairly personal connection to both those films, which almost certainly has influenced the production of Her. This was Jonze’s first largely solo-penned film (more on that later), but he has also spoken openly about taking influence from his long term collaborator Charlie Kaufman (Being John Malkovich, Adaptation) for his writing on Eternal Sunshine and Synecdoche, New York.

As for his relationship with Lost in Translation, well that much is painfully clear. Many speculated that Charlotte (Scarlett Johansson; another connection)’s husband John (Giovanni Ribisi) was based on Jonze, as the film was shot and released shortly after his divorce with director Sofia Coppola. While Coppola denies this, the themes of unsatisfied love cannot be ignored in her film, or indeed Jonze’s.

For Her largely follows the same lineage of unresolved love as those two, and manages to bring “their” themes of alienated individuals in modern-day metropolises into one film. Central to Theodore Twombly (Joaquin Pheonix)’s motives in Her is his inability to come to terms with his divorce to childhood sweetheart Catherine (an ice cold Rooney Mara), and finds escapism in a new Operating System which, for a while at least, fulfils his every need. This is consistent with Joel (Jim Carrey) and Clementine (Kate Winslet)’s treacherous and vengeful deleting of each other from their memories only to repeat the cycle, and Bob Harris (Bill Murray) and Charlotte (Johansson)’s mutual love fuelled by their frustrations with their respective partners. In both examples, through memory erasing techniques and flânerie to strange and distant, modern, cities, the characters are unsatisfied and unsure of themselves, literally lost in their fallible human relationships.

Jonze’s Her however goes one step further, perhaps as it has the benefit of hindsight of ten years on Kaufman and Coppola’s scripts, but ultimately it successfully fully explores this “modern love story” to such a full potential that it questions the human condition itself. Because although Her central conceit is one involving man falling in love with a computer, Jonze dares us, through his own personal experiences and inspiration, to question all “loving” relationships.

Much of what makes Her a fascinating narrative is what is happening on the periphery of the frame, which connects to Tokyo in Lost in Translation. While that is a present day text, Tokyo is one of the most brutally technologically advanced cities in the world, something Bob and Charlotte are reminded at every turn as they immerse themselves but never really connect with their surroundings. Here, near-future LA has advanced to the point where the metropolis is largely uniform, hence why Shanghai can easily supplement it for certain scenes. The modifications to the city’s landscape, apartment and it’s inhabitants’ fashion tastes are constantly present, but given the majority of those on screen would rather be looking at their phones, an all too familiar image, it’s easy to miss these little touches.

‘Love’ as unrealistic

There is a key line about 2/3rds through Her delivered by Theodore’s friend and neighbour Amy (Adams) in which she states:

“Falling in love is a crazy thing to do. It’s kind of like a form of socially acceptable insanity.”

This will ring true to anyone who’s been invested and disappointed by love (i.e: everyone at some point in their lives) but it’s a crucial moment in the film. Here is the first moment Theo realises he shares Amy’s disappointment, having now both had their human relationships dissolved and are finding comfort in technological alternatives (Amy also uses the OS system but is simply “close friends” with hers’) and begins the eventual move to the film’s climax.

Amy’s assertion is important because it realises that the act of “falling in love” is a socially accepted, indeed, encouraged, act which is almost expected of us as humans, but also acknowledges that it is essentially a fallacious type of “insanity”. The fact that in the film’s near-future world, love has progressed to the stage of loving inanimate objects is pre-supposed as a new normal, shows that these flawed humans in society are adapting and evolving just as much as the OS system does, despite being at rapidly different rates.

This idea drives the central relationship of Theodore and his Operating System “Samantha” and therefore the film’s ironic title. Throughout, Theodore is consistently shown as a deeply flawed individual, but his endearing charm is what keeps him relatable and human. In many ways, Jonze employs the typically novelistic “unreliable focaliser” trope with Theodore, an incredibly difficult thing to capture on film, as he is a man who right up until the final scene of the film is a man who is deeply lacking in emotional engagement.

From the film’s opening, we see Theodore’s expressing this lack; constantly having flashbacks of his estranged wife, failing to recognise the irony in writing falsified, meaningless love-letters for people who don’t have the time, calling sex-chat lines, and importantly, seeing an advert for the OS system which briefly changes his life. Jonze handles the relationship Theodore has with his computer delicately and masterfully; over the course of the film we get a snap-shot of a typical relationship: introduction > establishing shared interests > flirting > admitting feelings > consummation > honeymoon period > growing apart > dissolution.

Except, none of this really happens in the normal sense. Or at least, as the computer is not a human, but artificially intelligent, it can only engage in ways it has been programmed, which is by the film’s setting so advanced that it actually mimics and evolves every time it interacts with Theodore, or anyone else, until it grows too advanced for it’s master and leaves. So while it may suggest that it’s having “human thoughts and feelings” the only human in this particular relationship is Theodore, which shifts the action significantly to his motives. Anything “Samantha” has learnt and relays to Theodore has been projected onto her by him, initiated by the screening questions the OS asks while Theodore is installing it, like a dating website would today, and otherwise learnt from the 8,316 other people “Samantha” engages with (and 641 it also loves), much as millions upload and share their feelings to social media websites every day.

Jonze makes this distinction of unrealistic love explicitly, but as it is told from the focal point of Theodore’s recently divorced, unrelenting mind, it is easy to miss in the midst of the “love” which “helps” him. Early on in their relationship, “Samantha” explains how she is programmed by thousands of developers and that she

can understand how the limited perspective of an unartificial mind might perceive [Theodore’s confusion] that way. You’ll get used to it.

She tells Theodore this right from the off, but his reaction is to laugh it off, because he clearly attracted and intrigued by her voice in his sorrowful mood. Thus, Theodore and “Samantha’s” conversations increasingly sound like excerpts from his love-letters, because she has consumed and learned them within split-seconds, making her assertions that she can be human as false as the love professed by those who’ve hired Theodore.

As he struggles to come to terms with the dissolution of his marriage, he selfishly believes that a computer could ever really love him, not seeing that, like his love-letters for other people, because he’s unwilling to accept that perhaps he is at fault for the divorce. His ex-wife Catherine is shown to us almost entirely in flashback, and in her only present day scene, quite rightly loses any fondness their distance had created, when he tells her he is in a relationship with his OS. She is unsurprised by it, claiming it’s perfect for Theodore as “Samantha” is the archetypal “unattainable woman” and thus can’t be ruined by his selfishness, as it is largely created by it. Here, Catherine exposes it as a ridiculous concept, but an increasingly understandable one, as humans turn ever-frequently towards technology of a means of self-indulgent escape from other humans, who we will always inevitably disappoint or vice versa.

This links directly to Eternal Sunshine’s Joel, who’s act of bitter revenge in erasing present-day Clementine becomes a tragic mistake when he realises it means erasing all the happy, past memories, only to wake up and begin the cycle again. It is an unrealistic solution but due to man’s fallible nature which he only realises until too late.

'Love’ as flawed, human, mortal and as resolution

External image

In Her we’re to compare this unreal relationship with Theodore’s nameless (dehumanised) blind date (played by the seemingly omnipresent Olivia Wilde) whom “Samantha” implores he sees before he mentions anything about being sexually unfulfilled. The date starts promisingly but ends dreadfully due to Theodore’s commitment issues and self-imposed emotional scarring, as thoughts of his wife and of “Samantha” rattle around disturbing his mind. When Theodore returns home to “Samantha” he feels sorry for himself and talks about how he just wanted to be sexually fulfilled as a short term solution to his problems leading to “Samantha” dutifully obliging by engaging “sexually” with him. 

Crucially, this cannot continue, partly because it’s unhealthy, but largely as aforementioned, “Samantha” is such an advanced piece of artificial intelligence that is only growing smarter and more powerful to the point that she outgrows simple human interaction. There is an important moment where “Samantha” makes a joke to Theodore and his friends that as humans they’re all going to die, showing how impossible their relationship is.  This is to be compared to Amy’s realisation after her break-up that:

I’ve just come to realize that, we’re only here briefly. And while I’m here, I wanna allow myself joy. So fuck it.

This is what leads to Theodore finally understanding the error of his ways, once “Samantha” and the other OS’s have left, writing the first legitimately endearing letter of the whole narrative to his ex-wife, and taking Amy up to their apartment block’s rooftop to finally gaze upon something other than a computer screen. The final scene is still fairly ironic; rather than some great scene of natural beauty, Theodore and Amy are in fact together taking in the futuristic city-scape which has been omnipresent throughout, like Sofia Coppola’s Tokyo. However it is still an acceptance that while human love may bring disappointments and lack assurances, given we never know what will come, if anything, of theirs or our relationships, it is still a vital part of the human condition and it’s mortality, which makes it a powerful dénouement.


It is unsurprising that Her won best screenplay at the Golden Globes, and while it is nominated for 5 Oscars (including best film) it is unlikely to win much different there. In a year where 12 Years a Slave happened, there is potentially no shame in that, but for all of the excellent, semi-autobiographical, writing of Spike Jonze, with help from Charlie Kaufman and Amy Adams (who reportedly help flesh out her character), this would suggest the film is more than the sum of it’s parts. While perhaps due to the nature of a dialogue-heavy film where half the action takes place off screen, it may not be that surprising there has been no actor/actress nominations, it still seems a shame that given the delicate subtleties of the role, neither Joaquin Pheonix or Scarlett Johansson have been given a nod (Adams has a thoroughly deserved one for American Hustle.) Intriguingly, British audiences don’t seem to have taken to Her as uniformly positive as American, reflected in its complete snub from the BAFTAs.

One final point, Her is Academy nominated for Best Original Score, provided by Arcade Fire and their long-time collaborator Owen Pallet (Final Fantasy) and it stands a strong chance of winning. Given all the action and design of the film, it’s possibly easy to miss the beautiful score which is rumbling along underneath, and it is interesting to find out that Arcade Fire’s 'Supersymmetry’ was originally written for this before it appeared as the closing track off of last years’ Reflektor album. The use of soundtrack places Her among these (for lack of a better term) “anti-romcoms” as, aside from being a director who is very experienced in combining music with motion pictures, this feels remarkably similar to Kevin Shields and My Bloody Valentine’s contributions to Coppola’s film (EDIT: or Beck’s to Eternal Sunshine). While their divorce clearly rings true in both films, it is often in much more subtle fashions that their influence on each other becomes apparent.

“A photograph is both a pseudo-presence and a token of absence. Like a wood fire in a room, photographs–especially those of people, of distant landscapes, and faraway cities, of the vanished past–are incitements to reverie. The sense of the unattainable that can be evoked by photographs feeds directly into the erotic feelings of those for whom desirability is enhanced by distance.”

Susan Sontag, from “In Plato’s Cave,” On Photography (Picador, 1990)

Guns For Hire - On Mercenaries

Why is it that the planet GFH is on has so many mercenaries? How is it possible that such a plethora of professional guns for sale can exist? What is crime like? Well, this attempts to explore that, within the realms of my opinion.

Other ChurbooseAnon GFH Headcanon Posts:
[Helmets]  [Errera]

  • There is a large number of mercenaries, spread over the various distant cities on the planet. Mercenaries have several different types of divisions: by specialization, by skill level, and by number.
  • Mercenaries are mostly happy to take whatever jobs come across their plate when they are low level, but the more known the are, the better chance they have to turn down jobs. That being said, everyone has preferred work. For instance The Hunter is rarely hired for jobs that aren’t meant to be hunting people down across long distances and killing them.
  • Common specializations include infiltration and theft, assassinations, information acquisition, and simple combat skill. Rarer specializations include clean up, physical or technical support, and courier jobs. That being said, mercenaries can be generalists, or take any job that comes their way.

Keep reading

I am shy. At the beginning of class there was an open seat next to you, but I didn’t take it. I thought maybe you were waiting for a friend, or maybe you wanted to be left alone, or maybe if I sat there I would have to talk to you.

I am distracted. Astronomy is possibly my favorite subject, but I’m missing it because I’m listening for the sound of you breathing. I should have sat closer.

I am no astronomer, but I have come to a conclusion. The sun is 93 million miles away, yet it burns hot enough to melt ice caps on our planet the size of cities.  So distant, but it melts our world. You are the sun.

I am far from an ice cap. I am an ice cube on the schoolyard blacktop.


Story Fragments #2

Do not look for me,
you are not supposed to.
Do not look for me when
the seasons change,
when the leaves shed their colour,
or even when they return;
do not look towards things that come and go,
because I will not be one amongst them.
Do not look for me in the mornings,
nor in the evenings,
nor any moment in between.
Not in the sun,
nor in the shade,
nor by bodies of water
in which you sometimes wonder
if I may have drowned.
In fact, I may have.
Do not look for me
in distant, foreign cities
among an ocean of unknown faces,
I would have blended right in.
Yes, I have certainly drowned, someplace.
None of the cars that stand still
just for a moment
at the traffic signals
on your way to work
will be driven by me.
You will not look up at the person
you bumped into clumsily
and find me smiling back.
Your mornings will start quietly,
but it will not be unusual.
And I will not be seated
alone on a stool
at your favourite coffee shop,
struggling to adjust
the perfect amount of sugar.
Do not look for me
in bookstores in the city
across the corner shelf
lined with Brecht and Beaumarchais,
neither the section which
never seemed to have any E.E. Cummings.
Do not look for me
behind your planters,
or in the midst of your closet,
or by your tall vase
of dried roses, the ones
you always insisted on keeping.
Do not look past the gates
towards the street while sitting
on your grandmother’s verandah
as drops of monsoon rain
litter the paved driveway.
I will not be in any of these places,
please, do not look for me.
—  Nav K