obscure's nonsense

OKay so I love how I see a bunch of random shit playing overwatch but its always the most obscure nonsensical things that seem to make me laugh more than others. 

 So the other day I just so happened to be walking back to our point on the event night market map and I walk up to see this Symmetra pestering this enemy Widowmaker at our point.  The Widowmaker is on a ledge above this Symmetra who is completely oblivious at first to the symmetra below her. Ether way I swear I see them lock eye contact for a moment, then without ether of them really moving from their spots, the Symmetra spawns just one turret on some sort water/oil? container which the widow promptly destroys.  This goes on I swear for a good minute or so of this Symmetra individually spawning one turret that immediately gets destroyed by this widow,  I just, I pretty much stopped what I was doing to watch this whole interaction play out. It kinda boggles my mind how enraptured I was watching this whole Symmetra vs Widowmaker interaction play out before me. 

I dunno if it made me reflect on life or some nonsense but It certainly made me laugh.I just wanted to share this stupid story.  Oh also the Widowmaker did end up killing the Symmetra in the end. It was very lackluster.

Paladin playlists


-Hayley Kiyoko

-obscure alien nonsense she insists was “very popular 10,000 years ago”


-angry feminist anthems

-saved podcasts


-romantic songs. The super sappy kind.

-memes (Africa by Toto, Never Gonna Give You Up, Bohemian Rahpsody)


-classical music, for studying/tinkering background music



-alternative rock

-that one U2 albulm that automatically downloaded on everyone’s phones that he never bothered to delete



-early 2000s pop songs

hamelin-born  asked:

If Theseus has woolomancy and Newt has dangermancy, what kind of obscure, ridiculous magic does Graves have?

(In relation to this post and this one)

Graves? Obscure and ridiculous magic? Nonsense. He wouldn’t. Never.

On the other hand, sometimes in the middle of a particularly pressing duel, he’ll do this little fancy bit of footwork, you know? A bit of a sidestep, a half turn, hip jutting out to the side and weight shifting onto his front foot, and the curse that should have flambéd him just kinda… fizzles out. When it’s his turn to fire the offensive spells, he could fire them the usual way but then again, he could go for a one-and-two lockstep and that extra flare to his wrist, and bam that’s an overpowered stunner right there that no one’s getting up from any time soon.

Not that Graves is doing anything unusual to power it up, of course not. Wand movements are an inherent part of magic. Ask anyone. Dancing? Fuck no, don’t be ridiculous. Graves doesn’t dance. Ever. Haven’t you noticed? He stalks around MACUSA’s annual ball messing with the wards or skulking near the food and if anyone tries to get him to take a turn on the floor he glares them into submission. No dancing.

(One time when he was out celebrating the end of a particularly hard case with his aurors he maybe had a bit too much to drink and maybe forgot the no dancing rule. And, given that we’re talking about maybes, he maybe got up on the table did something completely sinful with his hips that maybe transfigured every liquid in a two mile radius into single malt scotch and given that this included the water mains, the gas in the nomajs’ cars, the various medicines and fluids in the local hospital - yeah. That, uh, that wasn’t Graves’ finest moment.)

But if you’ve ever wandered by the Graves property in the evening, ever peered in through the lead-paned windows to the crackle of firelight inside, you might see Graves leading his mother through a lively foxtrot while his father stamps the time. The tiny space between the sofas and the coffee tables is taken up by a grand hall, white marble pillars, vaulted ceilings painted with triumphant angels and magic-wielding saints; Graves’ tartan pyjamas fade into an old fashioned suit and when he spins his mother her jewel-studded silk skirts flare around her feet. The fire is replaced by wide open doors, a balcony, the golden light of an Italian evening; his father’s stomping forms parts of the orchestra his mother remembers from her childhood. The notes hang in the air for long moments after the dance ends and the grandeur fades back into their cramped sitting room.

And if you’ve ever seen Graves while his aurors are in the hospital, you’ll know that he can’t keep still. He fidgets, foot tapping, fingers twitching; leave him alone for a minute and he’s likely to pace, rhythmically, with sharp turns and heels ringing against the floor. Tina swears he once moonwalked a circle around her to stop her bleeding out in the field but, as Graves pointed out, she’d lost a lot of blood and was probably hallucinating. She hadn’t lost a lot of blood when she caught him checking the perimeter of their temporary camp and sneaking in a touch of Irish line dancing to strengthen the wards. Graves freezes for a moment when he notices her watching and then continues in perfectly normal strides as though he’d never been doing anything else, and Tina rolls his eyes and lets him keep his secrets. 

[C]alligraphers delight in creating mazes of embellishment in which meaning is secreted like a treasure. The deciphering of the text proves the worthiness of the reader.


Is Celan’s work too obscure, as some claim? Is it too hermetic? Too difficult? Real poems, Celan wrote, are “making toward something … perhaps toward an addressable Thou.” I would argue that, for any poet writing toward such a subject, regular words and syntax soon become inadequate. Celan is an extreme case though, because he also had to contend with the inadequacy of the German language to express the experience of the Jewish poet, post-Holocaust. His is the lyricism of privacy (prayer is private, no matter with how many fellow congregants it is uttered or in how many prayer books it appears), not of hermeticism. In fact, Celan insisted to Michael Hamburger that he was ‘ganz und gar nicht hermetisch.’ Absolutely not hermetic.


Celan chose to protest from inside German, in “death-rattling,” “quarreling” words. Though he spoke numerous other languages (Romanian, Russian, French) and though he had written previously in Romanian, he nevertheless decided to remain in German, which he broke and reclaimed. German, for Celan, was the language that had to “pass through its own answerlessness, pass through frightful muting, pass through the thousand darknesses of death-bringing speech.”

Why break a language? To wake it up. “We sleep in language,” writes Robert Kelly, if “language does not come to wake us with its strangeness.”


Theodor Adorno: “It is barbaric to write poetry after the Holocaust.”
Adorno, when confronted by others, repeated: “After Auschwitz to write poetry is barbaric, I would not want to downplay this remark.”
Adorno, after reading Paul Celan’s broken and reassembled German, reconsiders: “It may have been wrong to say that after Auschwitz you could no longer write poems.”


And there was light let there be God and said waters. The language acquires a strange agency, a weird reversed reality: “And there was light let there God.” There is more poetry in reading the text we know by heart backwards. (We sleep in the language, if language does not come to wake us with its strangeness.“


Celan, writes Anne Carson, was "a poet who uses language as if he were always translating.”


If Celan’s poems feel like strange translations, clearly the translation of Celan into English should give the feeling of foreignness to our own language.

I would argue that most piercing lyric poets don’t speak in the “proper” language of their time. Emily Dickinson didn’t write in proper English but in slant music of fragmentary perception. Kit Smart’s endless lists and Whitman’s numbering of months in Leaves of Grass are hardly in the language their contemporaries knew. Cesar Vallejo placed three dots in the middle of the line, as if language itself were not enough, as if the poet’s voice needed to leap from one image to another to make – to use Eliot’s phrase – a raid on the inarticulate.


If by this point you are thinking about the witches from Macbeth or any of Shakespeare’s fools’ riddles, you aren’t alone. Here is Cid Corman (who was Celan’s first English translator) describing Celan: “poetry OF language – but of language AS livingdying … a tale told by an idiot.” A tale told by an idiot, signifying nothing, as we all know, signifies a great deal and is at the heart of Western literature. It is not something we should dismiss as obscurity or nonsense, though it may employ nonsense to reach its goal – which is, perhaps, to find “the addressable Thou." 

Incantation is just one such device. There are others. Many critics have commented, for instance, on how surreal Celan’s images are. He was influenced by his friendship with surrealists, but his art is much older than that particular movement. The first real surrealist was Ovid, not Breton. The first American surrealist was Emily Dickinson: "I felt a Funeral, in my Brain.”

One could call “Deathfugue” a ballad, a secular Kaddish, fugue, but what then? It’s not the literary devices that matter but how a poet confronts them.


But how do English/ American poets confront our own tradition? Yeats famously said that he only revised toward a more “passionate syntax.” John Berryman said “nouns, verbs do not exist for what I feel.” I think of King Lear saying “Never, never, never, never, never,” or Whitman saying “Death, death, death, death, death,” when the words lose meaning and become just sounds of themselves, opening into a territory of less guided, more given meaning.


To come back to the question of the privacy of a lyric poet and how this is manifested in the tensions of  his or her language: for Celan, it seems, this attitude toward German came from trauma. He had seen the Holocaust and its aftermath. “No one / witnesses for the / witness,” Celan said, and in his work “a tension is held in the fragmentation of  language, of  being and of extreme solitude” (Julia Kristeva).

Note the choice of word: solitude, not loneliness. In the end, it does not matter whether this “tension” in a poet’s speech comes from a place of trauma or from somewhere else (Catullus? Mayakovsky? Niedecker?). Whatever the source, the central fact remains — the privacy of a lyric poet. The lyric poet is a person who says, “I am not sure the language 
I write in is spoken here, or anywhere.” Alone with unintelligible language, he sings “in front of strangers.”


In the solitary lines of Paul Celan, one hears this inaudible language.

A great poet is not someone who speaks in stadiums to thousands of  listeners. A great poet is a very private person. In his or her privacy this poet creates a language in which he or she is able to speak, privately, to many people at the same time.

—  Ilya Kaminsky, excerpts from “On the Strangeness that Wakes Us: On mother tongues, fatherlands, and Paul Celan”

To those who have been of immense help and emotional support (every like or repost matters to me, really): I’ve drafted my Hannibal chapter, got positive feedback from my supervisor, and am now in the stage of polishing and seeking for more chances to bring extra fangirlishness into the dissertation.
Thanks to the knowledgeable @niakantorka for bringing the quote from Goethe to my attention! And the lovely @the-winnowing-wind for her repost which helped me “to be sociable ”. And of course everyone who commented about allusions. Don’t we all love Hanni when he’s talking obscure “nonsense”? 🤣 I’ll try to get the catalogue done as it goes. Hope all is well with our Fannibal family.


The worst thing about being ugly is the hope.

The hope and the desperate wishing that you aren’t ugly. That you aren’t oddly misshapen and facially twisted, a hopeless array of disjointed features. 

The hope that you’re secretly pretty, and that the world has just been lying to you. You come up with obscure, nonsensical justifications for this, that only make sense in context of desperate self-pity. 

They just don’t want me to be arrogant.

They’re lying.

They’re jealous. 

But you know these thoughts have no basis in reality.

You’re just ugly.

But then there’s a small glimmer of hope; a small hint of light in the oppressive depression and darkness.

Someone tells you, you’re pretty.

Maybe your mom or your sister or your bestfriend or a drunken stranger but it doesn’t matter. You cling onto that hope with a rabid desperation, and let it guide you through all the hatred and mistreatment.

Even if it was a lie. 

But still it’s hope in the shadows.

Until it gets crushed.

anonymous asked:

My favourite Carmilla anagram is 'Mallarci', because it sounds like 'Malarkey', which is a word that describes something that is deliberately obscure or complete nonsense - and it is literally both of those things. So there's a thing I thought. In my brain. Also, I really hope someone calls Carmilla 'Lil'Carma' in season 2. The look on her face...oh the violence! Ok. Byeeeeeeeeeee.

A+ on mallarci/malarkey, it’s a fantastic word!

I would pay money to see Carm’s reaction to “Lil Carma” but also it’s reminding me of the stories about Natasha rapping on set and now I have some very odd rapper!Carm mental images.

It’s strange.

Religion tried to convince sincere but gullible people…that they had a god-shaped hole in their hearts…that only religion could fill with constantly repeated stories about god…when instead…people had a thirst to understand and make sense of reality…and gradually realized, in ever increasing numbers…that religion did not represent reality at all…but were actually obscuring reality with nonsensical religious fantasy…to achieve power over others…and for personal financial gain…

…the inevitable result of competing sectarian religious beliefs…was ever-more conflict and contention…ignorance and confusion…throughout the world…

The way forward, is reason…and secular humanism…understanding…and collaboration…equality…and sharing…

SEVENTEEN N-word Controversy (?)

I woke up to all these claims that Seungcheol and Seungkwan said the N-word and I found myself getting so confused and frustrated that I ended up creating a new tumblr just to address this. 

Firstly, I agree everyone should be educated when it comes to racially offensive terms - but to expect EVERYONE to know every racial slur out there is a little bit of a reach. Everyone is too sensitive with these things these days and would happily jump on the bandwagon without checking for sure. 

I’m not Korean, and I’m sure many international fans are not Korean either - we cannot claim to know a language fluently with all its nuances, dialects, and slangs. International fans cannot claim to be experts in the Korean Language unless they have properly studied it, or been to Korea and lived there sufficiently enough to immerse yourself into it. It’s like expecting an American person to know the weird slangs we Brits have. It’s all English and yet, there are words and phrases not everyone will understand. So those who are making this accusation purely based on the fact that it SOUNDS like the N-word need to actually give some more solid contextual evidence because I’m not buying it. When I first started learning how to pronounce Korean words, even I was thrown off by the sounds of words like 니가, which just means ‘you are’ but is pronounced ‘ni ga’. But at the end of the day, it is just a homophone - it does not mean the N-word so it can be deceptive for people who are new to the Korean language. 

Secondly, in that clip, they were playing the acrostic poem game using the word ‘MAMA’. So you have to treat the sentence as a whole - ‘Ma naega’ was only the first part of the sentence/poem. The goal of the game is to use their wit to make a poem that is supposed to make some sense (though most of the time, idols struggle so it becomes a funny/obscure nonsensical poem instead), so you can’t judge the meaning of the poem from just one line. Seungcheol was very clearly speaking in Satoori just based on the fact that his following line was in Satoori: ‘마마에 간다 아이가~’ (MAMA e ganda aiga~) roughly translates to ‘we’re going to MAMA, right?’ 아이가 (aiga) is usually a phrase associated with satoori (Gyeongsang province dialect) - equivalent to ‘isn’t it?/right?’ (something those watching Reply 1988+ would hear very often) and not a phrase characteristic of the Seoul dialect because it would literally translate to 아이 (’ai’/child) so 아이가 would make the child/children the subject of a sentence (in standard Korean). (refer to this video for clarification: [x]) 

It wouldn’t really make sense for Seungcheol to randomly drop the N-word whilst trying to speak Satoori… After Seungcheol says it, you can hear the others actually mimic the Satoori tone (I’m pretty sure I can hear/see Hoshi mumbling something in a dialect as he’s doing a handshake w/ Seungcheol [x]). So those who are basing their opinions on a 4-5 second CUT of the original video need to be aware of the context, because of course the phrase wouldn’t make grammatical sense on its own. It’s like someone saying ‘I like…’ but we don’t hear the end of the sentence. ‘I like…’ is not a complete sentence, therefore, you can’t assume what they like without hearing the rest of it. 

Next, it actually isn’t the first time that Seungcheol has said ‘ma naega’ - please refer to this clip [x] - in which he says in Satoori: ‘ma naega daegu aiga? 마내가 대구 아이가? which is translated in the video to: ‘Aren’t I from Daegu?’ - ‘Ma naega’ is therefore a Satoori phrase used to denote ‘I’ in this case. Exactly the same phrase used in a similar context - he is speaking in Gyeongsang-do dialect - and when he does, everyone else around automatically plays along with the satoori too. There is nothing intentionally offensive about it. You cannot accuse him of being racist solely based on the sound of words because it’s a language and dialect not all are fluent in. So to me, case closed. 

For Seungkwan’s clip of him singing to Monsta X’s Rush… well. I don’t need a fancy explanation of language - Seungkwan has always slurred his English. Listen clearly, in the clip he actually says ‘Ma Gurr’ - it’s the M/N sound that seems to have confused people… I’m pretty sure he is trying to say ‘My Girl’. I’ve noticed that the ‘rl’ sound in ‘girl’ is pretty hard for Asians to pronounce in general with their native accent just because they don’t have the same syllabic sounds that English has - vice versa. Just watch this clip of Jihoon trying to teach Wonwoo how to say ‘girl’ and how difficult it is for him [x]

Seungkwan’s case is just a matter of what you hear tbh, I’ve seen more comments that say he’s mispronouncing ‘my girl’ rather than the N-word. For Seungcheol - well that’s purely based on how well you know Korean language and dialects. People who are not familiar will hear it and be offended by it and i’m sorry if some were really offended after hearing it. But I just don’t think based on context (and the amount of time i’ve spent listening, and reading other people’s opinions) that Seungcheol meant to say a racial slur. 

Thanks for reading this super long post - but i just had to address this. I am not excusing people from using racial slurs - if they did then they need to know it’s wrong. It’s just that in this case, I don’t think a racial slur was used and that it has been blown out of proportion.


I’ve rewatched the video because I saw that people were associating Hoshi’s hip-hop style handshake as a sign of approval when Seungcheol says ‘ma naega’ to have negative connotations. But I had to correct something I said earlier because after Seungcheol said ‘ma naega’ it wasn’t DK who was mumbling Satoori but Hoshi - you can match the audio with his lips - if it was DK then the audio would’ve been louder and clearer because he’s closer to the mic. If this is the case, then Hoshi was acknowledging Seungcheol’s use of Satoori or why else would he be muttering in Satoori if he said the N-word? Everyone was aware that Seungcheol was speaking in Satoori when he said ‘ma naega’. [x]