escape-artist

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The Zolas - “Escape Artist”

anonymous asked:

Hi ! After knowing harry's meaning of SOTT what do you think of it? Honestly that's not what i was thinking... like i never thought it would be a perspective of a mother dying. all the interpretations everyone's made idk harry is so difficult to read what are your thoughts?

Lol!

The Rolling Stone/ Cameron Crowe interview was quite a nice bit of theater this morning, wasn’t it?

On the one hand, we have Harry state in radio promo interview that SOTT was his most literal and personal song on the album. On the other hand, he offers an interpretation of a mother dying in childbirth and urging her child forward. He paints quite a dramatic tableau– but if it’s personal/ literal, which one was Harry? The mom? Or the child?

Was the dying mother the one shouting, “We’ve got to–away”? Because she, this dramatic character, wasn’t going to make it. Or was it the baby talking to– the neonatal intensive care unit staff?

Then we have contradicting versions of how the song was written. A prior interview had said Harry sat down at a piano, thrummed out some chords in the rented Jamaica house that ended up being the opening of the song.

The Rolling Stones interview says, “The song began as a seven-minute voice note on Styles’ phone, and ended up as a sweeping piano ballade.”

So which one was it? A spontaneous improvisation on a Jamaican piano, or a voice note?

I think the clue to these contradiction lies in the one true thing Harry said:

“Like, fuck, I don’t know what Prince eats for breakfast. That mystery … it’s just what I like.”

I was talking to @lawyerlarrie about the French deconstructionists, Foucault and Derrida. Deconstructionism is a movement of literary criticism which focuses on literary texts to the exclusion of authorial intent. “Pride and Prejudice” means something because of the words (the text) themselves, not because of what Jane Austen wanted them to mean. In this school, it doesn’t really matter what Austen wanted. What we have is the text.

Similarly, when songs are written, they acquire an existence of their own, regardless of what the songwriter wants them to mean.

You can carry this to an absurd end, of course. Other ways of interpreting are valid, including a psychosocial reading connecting the song to a songwriter’s biography. For example, we now know that Stevie Nicks wrote “Sara” about her abortion of the baby she conceived with Don Henley. That fact is relevant to the song, no matter what the literary interpretation is.

SOTT’s lyrics describe separation and oppression; a promised end that never comes; a relationship in which one person has been given reprieve/ freedom while the other person is left behind. It is about false reassurances, about someone giving comfort despite knowing that a situation is hopeless. It’s a song about an impossible escape. And about the guilt of the person (the singer) who has been given the freedom. The cost of his freedom was pain to the person he loves. That meaning is unarguable.

These words have meaning, no matter what the writers want them to mean. A mother dying is one way to express this situation. But a mother dying is a metaphoric representation of the situation. In other words, it can’t be literal– not for Harry. The literal meaning is hidden. Harry didn’t say it; he didn’t want to say it.

So much is left unsaid or obfuscated in this interview. I (with some discomfort) admire Harry the Escape Artist. He has left just a smoky outline of himself on the page. There’s an irony in his honesty. “I’m honest because I’ve told no lies”; this isn’t the same as “I’m honest because I’m telling the truth.”

We say he’s “swerving,” but I don’t think that’s a great description either.

I think the whole solo promo has been about creating another theatrical persona for Harry– one who is a hip, down-to-earth, creative, sweet, genuine, charming, HONEST musician who doesn’t get many dates, and whose heart is broken over and over by intense (heterosexual) love affairs, which are then converted to art. And who, finally, gets to do exactly what he wants– so it’s all above ground and transparent, right?

Wrong. It’s all illusory.

Harry has created an iron curtain between his public and private lives, which no one but family are privy to. I’m not just talking about his sexuality, but the whole question of his privacy. The iron curtain deflects peskier personal questions and allows him to work. It separates his celebrity status from his artistic achievements. Not that he’s above using celebrity to promote his art– why else would he do the interview? Of course he’s going to use his celebrity when the occasion arises. But he’s treading a thin line.

The iron curtain lets him swim in the private cove of his Jamaican imagination without being under public scrutiny.

The ocean doesn’t care who he is. It doesn’t care whether he was in love with Taylor Swift. It is big enough for him to disappear in.

So if his whole album is filled with love songs dedicated to female pronouns, so be it. He has raised the wall.

“The mystery … it’s just what I like.”

The Tree That Outsmarted Me and Punched Me in the Face

Ok so this one isn’t so much wild as it is ‘Rekina what the heck do you think you’re doing sit down this instant’ kinda deal.

Our story begins back when I worked retail.

Alrighty so quick update. The part of Saskatchewan where I live is flat. I don’t mean mildly ho hum flat I mean flat ok like the nearest slight incline(besides the dump) is nearly a fifteen minute drive. ok flat as a ruler

And because of this intense flatness we get some equally intense wind. The last few days we’ve had winds upwards of 90km (55mph) and that’s a pretty normal seen it all before kind of wind storm. Nothing out of the ordinary. But then sometimes we get even worse winds called plough winds. Now, these are sometimes hurricane force winds ok windy as all get out

These winds make a straight path across the prairies, ripping roofs off, uprooting trees, and causing general havoc ok

there’s a reason they are called plough winds they plough over everything in sight like a bull in a china shop it has zero regard for your average home or retail employee like myself

Plough winds only show their ugly faces during the summer. and in summers I worked in the garden center. 

Now, normal people would stay indoors during winds like this. Common, sesnible people would hunker down and batten down the hatches and wait for the whole thing to blow over. Not me. Not only was I at work

I was outside

That’s right folks yours truly still had to go out and water the plants in winds fast enough to shut down most cities

So there I am in my oversized rain jacket that I was practically swimming in. This thing trailed along the ground it was so big on me. I have my garden hose on and am doing my thing

First of all, do you have any idea how hard it is to water plants when the water comes out of the hose and just kinda shoots off into the distance

It’s an acquired skill to say the least k I was standing like two feet to the side of the plant I actually wanted to water

Now if that wasn’t annoying enough i also have to deal with these jerks of trees

At the back of the center is our tree selection. I’d tied them down with the full stregnth of my scout knot tying knowledge and most of them stayed secure. But there was three little jerks on the very end that would tip over, making me go and pick them up again

This happened every ten seconds.

I would go, water a plant, and then drop everyhting to pick up these stupid trees

I did this for five hours straight

Then one time while I’m picking up a fallen ash, this little apple tree gets cheeky and topples down right on top of my head.

It didn’t hurt, but those leaves are like little whips in the wind my whole face was stinging by the time I got the jerk set up right again

This tree was about to become a very big problem

See when the other trees tipped over they would politely lay in place until i could reach them, still tethered loosely to the pole. But not this apple tree oh no

Little did i know i was dealing with Houdini Incarnated into a tree.

So I’m minding my buisness watering a plant from a distance and I happen to see Houdini take the fall. Except this time something was different. This time it not only fell, but it started to roll

It had somehow jumped the little enclosure and slipped the bonds

Im still pretty chill at this point. The whole center is surrounded by a fence where could it possibily go I’ll just go get it when it hits the fence right?

Wrong.

Because I was dealing with an escape artist ok what happens next had nothing to do with me

See off in one corner we had this pile of manure right near the fence. 

This tree my little Houdini was chugging towards it at full speed, those little leaves were like sails it was just a’cruisin down aisles of bricks. It’s fine tho it’ll hit the manue and–

It hit the manure alright

It rolled up the manure pile 

and over the fence

So now The Little Tree That Could was barreling around on the highway like a phsychotic leafy bat out of hell

My first thought is if that hits someone im so fired

I scream and drop the hose and begin my pursuit because I am not getting fired over an apple tree ok no sire im going down with my dignity

So i do the only logial thing in my head

Most people would run through the open get four feet behind them and calmly make their way to the highway. Not me

I sprinted across the compound, scrambled up the manue pile, and vaulted the fence

For one glorious moment I thought I could fly.

And then I plunged downwards with a very undignified squeal.

Still I splash down into the ditch and prepare to make my heroic capture

Problem: I had just landed chest deep in slough.

For those of you lucky souls who don’t know what a slough is let me explain

A slough is what happens when stagnat water, cow crap, cow piss, and crop fertilizer mix and heat up in the sun. Doesn’t smell good.

And I just landed chest deep in the stuff. Gross doesn’t even begin to cover it

But being the trooper I am i decide I’m going to end this day on a high note and salvage my dignity

I heave myself out of the slough and take off after the tree which is dancing around the thankfully empty highway

Just one issue: Plough Winds tend to change direction

So there I am chasing this freaking apple tree around in circles and it’s winning ok every time I get close to grabbing the trunk of branch the wind throws it in another direction leaving me stumbling like a drunk moose as I try to adjust course 

This goes on for a solid twenty minutes

I’m back and forth across this highway cursing enough to make a sailor blush

And then victory is in sight my fingers graze the trunk and–

the wind stops

The base of the tree is so heavy with water that It sits straight up and whacks me across the face harder than Dwayne Johnson ever could

My momentum throws me forward, my foot catches the pot

and I sail head first into the next slough

I am now covered in disgusting, thick, sticky water and that tree is just taunting me on the road

Eventually I manage to snag the little jerk and I start dragging it back towards the compound like oh yeah who the boss? i’m the boss i caught the tree 

Just as I see  two more trees making a break for it over the fence

It was a long end of shift to say the least

I had a black eye from that tree for a week and a lovely bleeding cut on my forehead. But i caught it and I am still proud of that to this day

This is the beginning of a strained partnership.

Quick info on the scenario we had; it was a very small game(D&D 3.5) of three people. A Human Fighter, a Satyr Wizard(joined later and will not appear in the scene), and an Avoral Rouge. The Fighter had started the campaign capturing the Rouge for their impressive bounty and the Rouge convinced them to split the bounty to make it easier. The Rouge would later escape and get their cut, payment to avoid a promised butt-whooping should he cheat. They arrive in a small town with a very heplful guard.

Fighter: “I’m here to collect her bounty!” Points to Rouge, in cuffs on wrists and ankles*

Guard:*Recognizes Rouge from posters* “Oh I’m sorry our treasury doesn’t have enough money to pay you! Would you accept a third of the price?”

Fighter: *looks to Rouge, who gives him dirty look and quietly mutters ‘no way’* “I’m sorry no. Is there a larger town within traveling distance?

Guard: *nods and proceeds to give him directions*

Fighter: “Thank you” *Turns to leave*

Guard: “Wait! I noticed that she’s a flier and a notorious escape artist, don’t you want to make sure she can’t get away?”

Fighter: *Rolls to convince the Guard and fails* “I can handle her.”

Guard: “I doubt it. Look I’m very good at pinioning, it’ll be quick…” *pulls out large scissors from somewhere*

Rouge: *gets pissed* “You are NOT touching me with those scissors! *is ignored by the guard*

Fighter: *rolls to convince the Guard again, and succeeds minorly* "Look, maybe we can do something less drastic?”

The rouge ends up covered from head to shoulders in chains and tossed in the back of the wagon, unable to move. Much farther down the road…

Rouge: “……you can let me out now, he’s not following us…”

Fighter: “What if he sent a messenger ahead and they expect you in chains?”

rouge: “I hate you so much right now.”