ordinary roads

youtube

GOT7陳奕迅 - 浮誇

Lyrics: 

Bambam: If people ask then I will talk, but nobody comes

I wait and wait but even when I have things to say, I don’t get the chance


Mark: My feelings are like a bottle cap waiting to be opened,

yet my mouth is growing moss


Jinyoung: In a crowd of people the quieter you are the less they 

pay attention, you need to make your own scene


Yugyeom: Like suddenly breaking into song, 

treating any place like an open stage

Wearing the flashiest shirt, pretending to be cool

Remember to stick your hand in your pocket when they take pictures


Jaebum: You can treat me as a show off, 

but I only do it because I’m really scared

If I was like a piece of wood, like a piece of rock, would I be noticed?


Youngjae: It’s because of a fear of being forgotten that I exaggerate so

How to be elegant through my uneasiness


Jaebum: Does the world still praise silence?

If I’m not explosive enough, how will I find topics to 

exaggerate about as a great entertainer?


Bambam: The year that I was eighteen, 

I stood like an idiot at the school prom

At that time I tearfully swore that everyone must take note of me


Mark: There are too many plain and ordinary roads in this world,

which house and village do you live in?

In relationships, in work, I have been neglected too much

my self-esteem has all but hit rock bottom


Jinyoung: Attention can cure hunger, and if you haven’t gotten any then you

 will know why I have so many flashy moves

Making these mistakes so people will look at me, does that count as sick?


Youngjae: You can treat me as a show off, 

but I only do it because I’m really scared

If I was like a piece of wood, like a piece of rock, would I be noticed?


Jaebum: It’s because of a fear of being forgotten that I exaggerate so

How to be elegant through my uneasiness


Youngjae: Does the world still praise silence?

If I’m not explosive enough, how will I find topics to

 exaggerate about as a great entertainer?



Jackson: Not many are lucky, 

and if you’ve never been one then you will know why

I put in ten times the effort to be one that stands out

Can normal people be as controversial as me?


Yugyeom: You can call me a show off, I’m not afraid even if you boo me

If there is boredom when I’m around, why don’t I perform for you?

Jinyoung: Am I hysterical enough? 

You can practically water flowers with your tears


Jackson: I only want to surprise you, did I seem non-existent?

Raising the stakes, even the veins of anger have surfaced

Tell me, do I exist now?


Youngjae: Look at me, don’t just look at the ceiling anymore

I’m not your cup of tea but you can still drink anyway

Don’t forget someone is making himself hoarse for you

I’m not sure you guys get how many musicals I love especially the more obscure, underrepresented ones. If you have a show that you love but you never see people talking about tell me, I’d love to talk about it. And if I don’t know it, then I want to. I’m really not picky

平凡之路/Ordinary Road
朴树/Pu Shu

Gosh this song actually makes me sob like a teenage girl. No, it’s not another puppy love song. Pu Shu, the singer and writer of the song, has been away from microphone for like a decade. Now is coming back with his signature neo-folk style work, also one of the themes songs for a Chinese road-trip movie, the Continent. The lyrics are so touching. Sadly I am no good to translate it into English. Or I will give it a try. Not today.:P

3

Fear and Emptiness in Small-Town Australia

Wouter Van de Voorde is a Belgian-born, Canberra-based photographer who admits it doesn’t take much to keep him creatively entertained. When he’s not teaching high school media and photography, he’s driving to the middle of nowhere and photographing forgotten places in rural Australia. His photos are of ordinary things—cars, empty roads, quiet towns—but are somehow infused with an eeriness that occasionally borders on the surreal. Think Twin Peaks if it never rained. We talked to him about feeling solitude while traveling alone for hours on end, and how the artist feels he will be “forever an alien, forever a tourist” while documenting these scattered locales throughout Australia.

Continue

spinninglenny  asked:

7: things you said while we were driving; Val/Garrus please?

“Why are you going so slow?”

“It’s called a speed limit, Shepard.”

Shepard made a noise in her throat. “Come on, come on, hit the accel! We can merge in ahead of that truck!”

“I am not cutting off a freight convoy, Shepard.”

She sighed. “You drive like an old man, Garrus. A frail, near-sighted, slow-moving old man.”
“I know you’re trying to get a rise out of me,” Garrus replied, “and it’s not going to work.”

“Not even a little bit?” she said. She sounded hopeful, he thought.

“Nope,” he said, amused.

“Come on, it’s going to take us forever to get there at this rate!”

“Exercise patience, Shepard.”

She was quiet for three minutes. Then she said wistfully, “ I miss the Mako.”

Garrus snorted.

“What?”

He chuckled. “I know how much you love going through or over obstacles, but we’re going on a perfectly ordinary drive on a perfectly ordinary road through perfectly civilized territory. There’s no need to drive a tank.”

“It’s more fun,” she muttered. Garrus decided to pretend he hadn’t heard that.

He let a few minutes go by, even though Shepard kept sighing and fidgeting. He could see her knee vibrating in his peripheral vision. “Shepard.”

“Yes?”

“What do you have against driving in a relaxed fashion, anyway?”

“It’s boring?” She waved a hand at the windows. “I hate being stuck in traffic.”

The traffic was actually moving along at a perfectly reasonable clip. Garrus doubted that saying as much would get a positive reaction. He cast a sidelong glance at her, slouched in the second seat with her arms crossed, and a thought struck him. “You don’t like not being in control.”

“What?”

“You just can’t stand that I’m driving, can you?”

“I don’t have a problem with you driving.” Her arms tightened and her nose scrunched up. Garrus laughed.

“Admit it, you can’t stand just sitting there while I drive along at a reasonable speed.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to go pass just a few of these cars,” she muttered.

Garrus couldn’t stop laughing, especially when Shepard huffed and then kept on grumbling under her breath. “We’ll get there when we get there, Shepard,” he said, just to poke her. “Embrace the journey.”

From afar

She has a supernatural grace
that pales casual life around her, 
blurs the ordinary backgrounds of crossing roads and crowded rooms. 
She drifts across, 
as though time didn’t exist, 
as if she was the only real thing in an out of focus world. 
Visage of art. A dream of a woman.

-Jerry Harris III

Oosh Mini Fic. For Anon

Mark had worked on it for months and months. In fact its the hardest he had worked on anything in his life, and that included college and his channel. There were just a few things left. A few minor details. But that didn’t make them any less important then what he had already sorted. Flower shop. Print shop. Generators. The list went on and on.
Then the real work began.

He created a block aid on a road in L.A. Just an ordinary road, with ordinary people but that wouldn’t last for long. He parked his car in the middle of the road. People were angry at first, then they saw what he was trying to do, and they helped. They helped hoist the banner. They helped hook up the generators to the speakers and microphone. They helped set up the canons. They helped the full symphony orchestra get into place. They helped set up the camera. They helped get the feed. They handed out the freshly printed tshirts with ‘Anon - Get better soon!’. They helped gather the crowds. They hushed them as Mark climbed on the car.

It was dark, but with a click of his fingers thousands, and thousands of fairy lights glistened in the fall moonlight. The orchestra played a gorgeous symphony to accompany Mark. He talked in the microphone. The crowds listened. ‘Anon. I saw your message. It kills me that I will never know who you truly are. But I am not having any fan of mine upset. So, I have an orchestra playing the most beautiful songs in the worlds. The beauty they play is soley inspired by you. The most beautiful person. The crowds gather to bask in your awesomeness. The confetti canons? Who doesn’t like confetti! Get well soon you epic human being. I love you!’

And with that the sound of 15 confetti canons filled the late October evening. The tiny bits of paper fluttered in the breeze, being lit by the beautiful fairy lights.

Really Belated Moffat Appreciation Day Countdown: An Underrated Work

The Doctor, the Widow, and the Wardrobe

This episode is routinely trotted out as the nadir of the Moffat era. It’s a waste of guest stars, the detractors say. It has almost no plot. It’s a Christmas episode constructed of snow and lovey-dovey hugs and not much else. It’s not proper Doctor Who.

They’re right. It’s not proper Doctor Who. But it’s what Doctor Who should be.

The story starts like a typical Doctor Who Christmas special—a giant alien spaceship prepares to destroy Earth, and the Doctor’s the only one who can stop it. This sort of story fits right into Series Six. That series was an epic, full of armies and assassins, as the plot twisted through time and across worlds in the ultimate battle of good versus evil. It destroyed so many lives. Thus, in “The Wedding of River Song”, the Doctor explicitly rejects that type of story. He won’t remain in Doctor Who, as the hero whose enemies tear worlds apart in fear of him.

So before the opening credits roll, the Doctor jumps out of that epic, and falls into a very different type of story. The Eleventh Doctor’s era is known for its fairy tale atmosphere, but previous stories took fairy tale tropes into the Doctor’s world. This story throws the Doctor directly into a fairy tale.

In fairy tales, there are creatures—cranky old women or men, animals of all shapes and sizes—who meet an ordinary traveler along the road and ask for help. The traveler gives the creature food, or frees it from a trap, solves its problem or spares its life. In return, the creature pledges help. Often, the creature returns at a moment of crisis for the hero, and helps them to complete an impossible task.

Thrown from the epic action story, the Doctor transforms into one of these strange creatures. He falls at the feet of an ordinary housewife, who pities the strange man with no face, and helps him find his home. In return, the Doctor offers a reward. He could have offered his typical thanks—a step into his box and a trip through time and space—but he’s not in Doctor Who anymore. He’s in a fairy tale, and so adopts this new world’s language and system of reward. He offers Madge a wish. In her time of greatest trouble, all she need do is ask for help, and he will come.

At Christmastime in 1941, Madge makes her wish. Her husband is lost, almost certainly dead. She is wild with grief, alone in her heartbreak, but afraid to share it with her children and break their hearts, too. She calls for help, and the Doctor comes

He needn’t have done it. This is not what the Doctor does. He fights aliens and saves worlds, civilizations, universes. This is only one family, three people, mourning a father who’s already gone. Not worth an entire episode of Doctor Who. How lucky we are that he’s not in that story anymore.

In this new story, he has a new name and a new promise. He’s not just the Doctor, who makes a single brilliant diagnosis and prescribes the cure. He’s the Caretaker, the man who stays and sees the little problems, and fixes them as best he can. He can’t swoop in and save Madge’s husband. That’s no longer his role. But he can sneak in through the cracks of the story, and strew about tiny bits of magic—a lemonade faucet, a cockamamie Christmas tree, bumper car chairs, hammocks in the bedroom—just to make two children happy.

Madge hates it. This is not the wish she made. What use is all this junk, these crazy, useless toys, when a beloved husband and father is dead? What place does happiness have in the real, adult world, where tragedies destroy everything dear? This happiness is childish and ignorant, and has no place in the real world.

So the Doctor gives the episode’s thesis statement. “What’s the point in them being happy now when they’re going to be sad later? The answer is, of course, because they are going to be sad later.” Comedy is not inferior to tragedy. Tragedy is not more “real” or more “mature” than comedy. Happiness not silly or childish or sentimental. Joy and sorrow exist side by side, and both are equally valid parts of life. How ridiculous of Madge to think otherwise.

Madge isn’t quite convinced. The Doctor may be a fairy tale creature, but she’s still in the real world, and her problems have not been solved by wishing. Thankfully, fairyland is on the other side of the wall, and the Doctor has built a door, through which the whole family will find a happy ending.

The youngest, Cyril opens the door first, and tumbles into a world of talking trees, pristine snows, and giants that hatch from Christmas ornaments. Like his predecessors—Lucy Pevensie, Alice, Wendy Darling—he explores this world with wide-eyed wonder.

His sister follows, and though Lily is amazed, the real world has a stronger hold on her. The snow is lovely, the woods are peaceful, but they are impossible. “Is this place real, or is it fairyland?” she wonders. Fortunately, the Doctor is with her, a Professor Kirke to teach her that logic and magic are not mutually exclusive. “Oh, grow up, Lily. Fairyland looks completely different.” But it is real. “What do they teach you in schools these days?” Fairyland or reality—it’s a false choice. A place can be both.

Last through the door is Madge, a mother, who has no place in fairy tales or children’s stories. Fairyland is nothing but a danger to her children. She wants to get out of this dangerous, childish nonsense and into the real, mature, sensible world.

All four characters reach the same destination, and learn of this world’s dilemma. The trees have souls, the giants can speak for them, and they search for a hero who can save them. The three characters most suited to fairy tales—children and a mad, magical man—are explicitly rejected. Instead, Madge, the mother—the character usually killed off before these stories even begin—is chosen as the hero. This is a new sort of story, where motherhood and femininity are not weaknesses to be overcome, but strengths to be celebrated. No one but a mother can save the day.

The Doctor does not begrudge Madge her role. He’s not in Doctor Who at the moment, and the Caretaker is not the hero of this tale. He offers advice and guidance, but others can save the day.

Madge saves the folk of fairyland, but when she brings her children back to the real world, she fears the magic is gone. She saved a world, but her husband is still dead, and her children need to know. But, unbeknownst to her, fairyland has worked its magic upon her. She can grant her own wishes now. In saving a world, she saved her husband. He isn’t dead. He never was dead. He was only flying home for Christmas.

With a promise kept and a happy ending achieved, the Doctor’s role in the story is over. He prepares to step back into Doctor Who, the story of a dangerous hero who fights monsters and saves worlds, and who has no room for anything as simple as a family at Christmas time. But Madge stops him. Fairyland has changed her, and she sees the Doctor more clearly than he sees himself. This mad old man forgot to learn the lesson that he taught Madge. Reality or fairyland, comedy or tragedy, big action epic or family Christmas tale—there’s no choice. There never was a choice. Life can have all these things…and so can the Doctor.

So our quiet little tale ends with the Doctor reclaiming his name, returning to his story, and coming home to his family. His time in a fairy tale has changed him. He can care about the little things and still be part of Doctor Who.

“The Doctor, the Widow and the Wardrobe” should not be swept aside in favor of “proper” Doctor Who. This fluffy little episode, where not much happens and no one dies, hits upon truths not seen in the most complex episodes. The comedy is not inferior to the tragedy, the family story inferior to the epic. A life should have all of these. How lovely that Doctor Who does, too.

Love & Rockets #41 (May 1993), Part 3


A sequence like this makes me think that Chester Square is more than it seems.

The first three panels are fairly realistic. Each one takes a step closer to Maggie and adjusts its angle slightly, as if the viewer is turning into Maggie’s line of vision. 

In the fourth, we’ve moved behind Maggie on the far side, so that we’re positioned to see the taxi coming from the other direction. The most striking thing about this panel, to me, is the enormous amount of sky in it. 

The fifth and sixth both incorporate small amounts of the fantastic, with the exaggerated beads of sweat coming off of Maggie as she’s shown out by the other woman, and the imaginary revenge Maggie contemplates in the back seat.

But the seventh panel is amazing in both its execution (or composition) and its unreality. It’s such an odd perspective that it makes the ordinary road with a car on it seem completely other. Think about thinking about making a panel like that. Just a black stripe down the middle with a little car on it, headed nowhere. 

I wonder how long it took Jaime to come up with just the right arrangement of those very simple elements.