The Fediverse Of Football? Could such a thing exist?

With all the news going on currently and how it is tying back to “The Shield” in the worst ways imaginable, maybe instead of just one league we have regional leagues all on equal footing where the league champs advance to a playoff to see who the champion of them all. I mean, why not right? The Bowl of Bowls so to speak. It'd be fun, exciting, and add a flavor to professional sports that we don't currently have on this side of the proverbial pond.

Also, by decentralizing the power structure to that degree, you don't have one body rule over everything because if one governing body has too much power and the wrong people rise to the top of said governing body, bad things happen. It's literally the history of sports organizations around the world. NFL, FIFA, PGA, IOC, you name the sport and the organization, there have been some shenanigans with unruly people at the top doing bad things. Single ownership models of several regional leagues who are linked together through some sort of football confederation and that confederation has a playoff to determine the champion of champions? By making said leagues regional you'd lower travel costs. You could theoretically buy buses and make most travel some sort of bus trip instead of buying plane tickets over and over again for cross-country flights and such. There are definitely advantages to this idea, just some details would need to be flushed out to make this a fully functional business proposal of sorts.

However many leagues and teams per league (all leagues in such an arrangement would need the same number of teams) is something that'd have to be determined. The opportunity is definitely there with the appropriate resources (which I currently do not have, full disclosure). Getting funding, distribution, what have you would be discussions for another time. The A7FL is the league that operates most closely to this vision I am writing about here, but they have “league owners” and a more vertical power structure than I am envisioning. The leagues should be the true power centers here, not the overarching body.

What if the “Brand New Shield” isn't just one organization but multiple organizations who operate on the same platform and use a more decentralized, confederated model than most professional sports? It's definitely an interesting idea to think about and something that is definitely going to be written about more on this blog.

In Summary: * It was great, listening to the Indiana Hoosiers women's basketball team win their first Big Ten game of the season this afternoon. Hope this win will be followed by many more. It was also great seeing Caitlin Clark hosting on the NBA on NBC preshow this evening. She did a pretty good job, in my humble opinion.

Prayers, etc.: *I have a daily prayer regimen I try to follow throughout the day from early morning, as soon as I roll out of bed, until head hits pillow at night. Details of that regimen are linked to my link tree, which is linked to my profile page here.

Health Metrics: * bw= 224.1 lbs. * bp= 138/83 (61)

Exercise: * morning stretches, balance exercises, kegel pelvic floor exercises, half squats, calf raises, wall push-ups

Diet: * 08:15 – crackers and cheese * 11:20 – little sausages, fried rice, fried egg * 15:00 – meat loaf

Activities, Chores, etc.: * 06:40 – bank accounts activity monitored * 06:45 – read, pray, follow news reports from various sources, surf the socials * 12:30 – listening to the pregame show ahead of this afternoon's women's college basketball game between Northwestern and IU * 15:00 – and the Hoosiers win 89 to 73. * 15:30 – watch the Millrose Track and Field Competition * 17:00 – watch the NBA on NBC * 18:00 – listening to relaxing music

Chess: * 14:50 – moved in all pending CC games

1. The Left Hand of Darkness (Hainish Cycle #4) by Ursula K. Le Guin, 364p: This is a classic sci-fi book that doesn't hold your hand at the beginning, with lots of world building terms being mentioned without too much explanation. But the world is rich, and eventually we understand pieces of it by reading further and making our own connections. This was not a plot heavy book for me, it shines on character building. It explores the clash between two different societies, one which is traditional gender binary and another (the Gethenians) which is essentially genderless and sexless, except during a mating season. It was a slow read for me, but it pays off when the two main characters have to team up and go on a long journey, trekking a cold and snowed-in landscape together. It is a great though-experiment on gender, cultural oppression and colonization. Having been written in the 60s, this book paved the way for future sci-fi gender conversations by daring to imagine a world where gender isn’t a constant and can be fluid, contextual, and socially constructed.

2. Enshittification: Why Everything Suddenly Got Worse and What to Do About It by Cory Doctorow [audio] 10h17min: This book lays down all the foundation and reasoning behind the phenomenon that is the systematic decay of services everywhere. The author coined the term “Enshittification”, and he presents various examples of the mechanism happening in services like Meta, Amazon, Uber, etc. I enjoyed the audio version, narrated by the author himself. Cory Doctorow uses sarcasm and he is often funny. But at the same time, the sad reality of capitalism exploitation is distilled in great detail. There is also a final section where he offers solutions. Very informative and timely read in our current moment (I read it in early 2026). After finishing it, it’s hard not to notice enshittification everywhere.

3. Winterfair Gifts (Vorkosigan Saga #13.5) by Lois McMaster Bujold, 90p: A nice novella where we can see Miles and Ekaterin's wedding! But we actually see it through the eyes of Roic, a Vorkosigan House guardsman who we met in the previous book, A Civil Campaign. We also get a chance to see Sergeant Taura again, which was great in this story. There's a bit of a mystery, but nothing complex.

4. A Week to Be Wicked (Spindle Cove #2) by Tessa Dare, 384p: The first time I tried this book, I didn’t like either of the characters from the first scene. I gave this book a second chance, and it was okay. The trope is the smart, bookish girl (Minerva) who really doesn't want to get married because she wants to be a geologist and the unrepentant rake (Colin). It's a road trip novel, with the two faking an elopement so that Minerva can travel to Scotland and present her findings in a Royal Geological Society Symposium. It's a light, funny read.

—

#readinglist #books #reading

Dieses Hörspiel ist eine meiner absoluten Lieblingsgeschichten. Seit meiner Jugend habe ich es mir unzählige Male angehört. Eine grossartige Vertonung einer grossartigen Geschichte.

Zur Geschichte

Baudolino erzählt die Geschichte eines Bauernjungen aus dem Piemont, der von Barbarossa, seines Zeichens Kaiser des Heiligen Römischen Reichs, adoptiert wird.

Fokus der ersten Hälfte sind Barbarossa und dessen Italienfeldzüge. Dabei wird die Gestalt des Baudolino immer dort zugezogen, wo die Geschichtsschreibung Lücken aufweist. Zahlreiche bis heute ungeklärte Ereignisse und Umstände werden ihm zugeschrieben. Dabei zeigt der Autor viel Humor, vermittelt zugleich aber auch Wissen über Oberitalien und dessen Geschichte.

In der zweiten Hälfte der Geschichte begibt sich Baudolino auf eine Reise in den Osten. Dieser Teil ist vom Stil her wohl an Mittelalterliche Reiseberichte zweifelhafter Herkunft angelehnt. Solche Berichte werden im Buch auch thematisiert und als oft unzuverlässig oder gar erfunden abgetan.

Tatsächlich werden die Erzählungen von Baudolino immer fantastischer und unglaubwürdiger. Haben seine Ausführungen zu beginn der Geschichte noch plausibel und glaubhaft geklungen, so untergräbt dieser zweite Teil seine Glaubwürdigkeit als Erzähler und als Hörer müssen wir uns fragen, ob und wie weit ihm zu trauen ist.

Die Vertonung

Der Südwestrundfunk (SWR), Norddeutscher Rundfunk (NDR) und der Hörverlag haben eine wunderbare, aufwändig produzierte, Hörspielfassung des Buches von Umberto Eco geschaffen.

Diese beseitigt eines der grossen Hürden aller Umerto Eco Romane, nämlich, dass es sehr schwierig sein kann der Geschichte zu folgen. Durch akustisches Hinterlegen der verschiedenen Schauplätze und Zeitlinien der Geschichte, ist das in dem Hörspiel aber deutlich vereinfacht. Man kann der Geschichte sogar folgen, ohne ihr andauernd die volle Aufmerksamkeit schenken zu müssen.

Die Stimmen, Musik und Geräusche sind alle hervorragend gemacht, gut vertont und abgemischt. Auch nach unzähligen Durchgängen, freue ich mich jedes Mal wieder aufs neue, das Hörbuch noch einmal zu hören.

Für wen ist es?

Alle, die sich für Geschichte, insbesondere das Europa des Mittelalters interessieren, sollten auf jeden Fall rein hören.

Abgesehen davon, ist es einfach ein toll gemachtes Hörspiel das viel Freude bereitet beim Zuhören, insofern eigentlich allen zu empfehlen.

Link zu Audible

Mark 15 is often read quickly because it feels so familiar. We know the outline. We know the ending. We know the cross. But when you slow down and let this chapter breathe, something unsettling happens. You realize this is not simply a story about death. It is a story about exposure. It is the moment when power is unmasked, when cruelty becomes ordinary, when fear pretends to be justice, and when love refuses to defend itself. This chapter is not written like poetry. It is written like a record. And that is exactly why it hurts.

Jesus does not enter Mark 15 as a hero. He enters it as a problem. He is inconvenient to the religious system. He is dangerous to political stability. He is uncomfortable to people who would rather preserve order than confront truth. So He is handed from one authority to another like a piece of evidence no one wants responsibility for. The trial before Pilate is not about guilt or innocence. It is about liability. Pilate knows Jesus has done nothing deserving death. The crowd knows it too. But knowledge is not the same thing as courage. And courage is what this chapter keeps asking for and never receiving from the powerful.

Pilate stands in front of the Son of God and asks Him a political question. “Art thou the King of the Jews?” It sounds religious, but it is really about control. Kings threaten empires. Titles create fear. Jesus answers simply, “Thou sayest it.” He does not deny it, but He does not fight for it either. His silence is not weakness. It is intention. He will not prove Himself through spectacle. He will not beg to be spared. He will not manipulate sympathy. He stands there as truth and lets lies expose themselves.

The crowd is given a choice. Barabbas or Jesus. A known criminal or a man who healed the sick. A rebel who shed blood or a teacher who gave life. And the crowd chooses Barabbas. This moment is not about their ignorance. It is about their fear. Barabbas represents violent change. Jesus represents moral change. One promises revenge. The other demands repentance. The crowd chooses the one that feels powerful rather than the one that feels true. That choice echoes across history. Every generation chooses between the comfort of rage and the discomfort of transformation.

Pilate washes his hands of the decision, but washing your hands does not make you innocent. It only means you did not want to feel responsible. He gives the order for Jesus to be scourged and crucified, and then the soldiers take over. What happens next is not judicial. It is recreational. They dress Jesus in purple. They twist a crown of thorns. They mock Him as king. They strike Him. They kneel in false worship. This is not about discipline. It is about humiliation. The cruelty is intentional. They are not trying to kill Him yet. They are trying to erase His dignity first.

There is something disturbing about how normal this feels to them. No one stops it. No one questions it. It is just another prisoner, another execution, another day of work. This is what unchecked power looks like when it gets bored. The chapter does not dramatize this moment. It reports it. And that is what makes it so heavy. Evil rarely announces itself. It usually clocks in and does its job.

When they lead Jesus out to be crucified, He is too weak to carry His own cross. A man named Simon of Cyrene is forced to carry it for Him. Simon does not volunteer. He is compelled. And yet his name is recorded forever. This is one of the strange patterns of Scripture. The people who do not choose the burden often end up being shaped by it the most. Simon did not wake up that day planning to touch the cross. But once he did, his life was never the same. Sometimes the holiest moments arrive uninvited.

At Golgotha, they offer Jesus wine mixed with myrrh, a crude anesthetic. He refuses it. This is not because He wants pain. It is because He intends to be present. He will not dull what must be faced. He will not escape what must be carried. He will experience the weight of human suffering without retreat. Then they crucify Him. Mark does not describe the nails. He does not describe the blood. He does not describe the agony. He simply says, “And they crucified him.” The simplicity of the sentence is devastating. It is as if language itself refuses to linger.

Above His head they place the charge: “The King of the Jews.” It is meant to mock Him. It ends up proclaiming Him. Two thieves are crucified with Him, one on either side. The Scripture is fulfilled that He is numbered with the transgressors. He is not between saints. He is between criminals. This is not an accident. It is a statement. He dies where broken people die. He hangs where society discards what it does not want to deal with. He enters death in the company of guilt so that guilt will never be alone again.

The crowd mocks Him. The religious leaders mock Him. Even those crucified with Him mock Him. “Save thyself, and come down from the cross.” They believe power means escape. They believe victory means avoidance. They think if He were truly who He claimed to be, He would refuse the suffering. They do not understand that the suffering is the mission. He is not proving He is God by coming down. He is proving He is love by staying up.

Then something happens that cannot be explained by politics or psychology. At the sixth hour, darkness covers the land. The sun refuses to cooperate with the execution. Creation itself responds to what humanity is doing. The light withdraws. Time feels suspended. And Jesus cries out, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” This is not doubt. It is quotation. He is speaking Psalm 22. He is not abandoning faith. He is entering the deepest language of lament. He is expressing what it feels like to carry the weight of separation. Not from God’s presence, but from God’s comfort.

This moment is where theology becomes personal. This is where salvation stops being abstract and becomes relational. Jesus is not simply dying. He is experiencing the distance that sin creates. He is tasting the isolation that rebellion produces. He is standing in the emotional territory of every human who has ever felt abandoned by heaven. And He does it without running.

Some think He is calling for Elijah. Others misunderstand Him. This is another pattern. Pain is rarely interpreted correctly by spectators. When someone is suffering deeply, the crowd often mislabels it. They turn agony into drama. They turn prayer into spectacle. They turn grief into rumor. Jesus’ final moments are surrounded by misunderstanding. And yet He continues.

When He breathes His last, the veil of the temple is torn in two from top to bottom. This is not a coincidence. The veil separated the Holy of Holies from the rest of the temple. It represented distance between God and humanity. And now it is torn. Not from the bottom up, as if by human effort, but from the top down, as if by divine action. God is not waiting to be reached. He is stepping out.

And then comes one of the quietest and most important lines in the chapter. A Roman centurion, a man whose job is execution, looks at Jesus and says, “Truly this man was the Son of God.” The first person to publicly confess Jesus as God in Mark’s Gospel is not a disciple. It is not a priest. It is not a prophet. It is a soldier who just watched Him die. This is what the cross does. It reveals God in places no one expects.

The women watch from a distance. They have followed Him. They have supported Him. They have stayed. While most of the disciples fled, the women remain. They do not rescue Him. They do not argue with the soldiers. They simply witness. Faith does not always look like action. Sometimes it looks like presence. They are there when the sky goes dark. They are there when He breathes His last. They are there when the crowd leaves. They do not turn away from the ending.

Joseph of Arimathea steps forward and asks Pilate for the body. This is an act of courage. To be associated with Jesus now is dangerous. The movement looks finished. The man looks defeated. And yet Joseph chooses dignity over safety. He wraps Jesus in linen and places Him in a tomb. The stone is rolled into place. The story appears closed.

Mark 15 ends without triumph. It ends with silence. The King is dead. The disciples are scattered. The crowd has gone home. The religious leaders think the problem is solved. And the women mark the location of the grave.

This chapter is not written to make us admire Jesus from a distance. It is written to expose us. We see ourselves in Pilate when we avoid responsibility. We see ourselves in the crowd when we choose what feels powerful over what is right. We see ourselves in the soldiers when cruelty becomes routine. We see ourselves in the mockers when we demand proof instead of surrender. And if we are honest, we also see ourselves in the women who stay but do not yet understand.

Mark 15 is not asking if Jesus can die. It is asking why we wanted Him to. It is asking what kind of world kills healers and frees criminals. It is asking what happens when truth threatens comfort. It is asking how far love is willing to go to reach those who run from it.

The cross is not God’s response to human failure. It is God’s response to human fear. Fear of losing control. Fear of admitting guilt. Fear of being changed. Jesus does not die because Rome is strong. He dies because humanity is afraid.

And yet in that fear, something holy happens. God does not answer violence with violence. He does not answer accusation with defense. He does not answer mockery with fire. He answers it with endurance. He answers it with forgiveness. He answers it with presence.

This is why the cross still matters. It is not a symbol of suffering alone. It is a mirror. It shows us who we are when threatened. It shows us who God is when rejected. It shows us what love looks like when it has no leverage.

We like resurrection. We like victory. We like open tombs and angelic announcements. But Mark 15 reminds us that before hope, there is honesty. Before dawn, there is darkness. Before new life, there is the courage to face death without pretending it is not real.

Jesus does not escape Mark 15. He enters it. He walks through it. He carries the weight of human cruelty and human confusion and human sin without becoming cruel, confused, or sinful Himself. He lets the worst of us do its worst to Him so that the best of God can be shown to us.

And the most unsettling truth is this. If Jesus had come down from the cross, the crowd would have believed in His power. But because He stayed, the centurion believed in His identity. Power impresses. Love convinces.

Mark 15 is the chapter where God refuses to save Himself so that He can save us. It is the day the sky darkened. It is the hour the veil tore. It is the moment death thought it had won and did not yet know it had lost.

This is not the end of the story. But it is the price of the next chapter.

Mark 15 does not close with thunder or angels. It closes with a sealed stone and watched silence. That is intentional. The Gospel refuses to rush us past the cost. It leaves us sitting in the unresolved space where faith feels most fragile. The Messiah is dead. The promises look broken. The movement looks finished. And yet this is the exact place where God does His deepest work—where certainty collapses and trust must decide whether it will still breathe.

What makes this chapter so uncomfortable is that it does not allow us to hide behind distance. We are not told about “them.” We are shown “us.” Pilate is not an ancient villain; he is the modern instinct to avoid conflict. The crowd is not an ancient mob; it is the voice of public opinion when it becomes louder than conscience. The soldiers are not ancient brutes; they are what happens when suffering becomes procedural. The mockers are not ancient skeptics; they are the reflex to demand spectacle instead of submission. Mark 15 is not history alone. It is diagnosis.

The strange thing is that Jesus never once defends Himself. He answers when asked directly, but He does not argue. He does not plead. He does not try to shift blame. He does not rehearse miracles. He does not summon angels. He does not threaten Rome. He does not scold the priests. He allows the lie to finish speaking. That silence is not surrender. It is authority. It says that truth does not need to shout. It says that love does not need to prove itself through domination. It says that God will win without becoming what He is saving us from.

When Jesus is mocked as king, the irony is unbearable. They dress Him in purple. They crown Him with thorns. They bow in false homage. They strike Him. They laugh. They believe they are humiliating Him. In reality, they are revealing Him. Kings of this world wear gold and rule by fear. This King wears pain and rules by sacrifice. His throne is wood. His crown is thorns. His scepter is endurance. And His kingdom does not arrive by conquest but by consent. He does not take power from humanity. He gives Himself to it.

There is a moment in this chapter that is easy to miss but spiritually enormous. Jesus refuses the wine mixed with myrrh. He does not numb Himself. He does not anesthetize the pain. He remains awake to it. He remains present inside it. He chooses consciousness over comfort. This is what love looks like when it commits. It does not dull the cost. It carries it. It does not avoid suffering. It enters it. He will not float above human agony. He will inhabit it.

When they crucify Him, Mark does not describe the mechanics. There is no gore. No graphic detail. No emotional manipulation. Just the sentence. “And they crucified him.” That restraint is devastating. It forces the reader to supply the weight. It refuses to turn suffering into spectacle. It preserves dignity even in death. Scripture does not need to exaggerate pain to make it holy. The holiness is in the obedience.

The title above His head is meant to mock, but it becomes proclamation. “The King of the Jews.” Rome means it as ridicule. Heaven receives it as truth. The charge is political. The reality is eternal. Jesus is not executed for murder or theft. He is executed for identity. The accusation is not what He did. It is who He is. This is why His death is not merely tragic. It is revelatory. It shows what happens when divine truth stands in human systems built on fear.

He is crucified between criminals. This is not poetic accident. It is theological intention. He does not die among the innocent. He dies among the guilty. He does not distance Himself from sin. He places Himself inside its consequences. He is not merely sympathizing with sinners. He is standing where they stand. He is not saving humanity from above. He is saving it from within.

The mockers demand that He save Himself. They believe rescue equals legitimacy. They believe survival equals authority. But Jesus reveals a different logic. If He saves Himself, He abandons us. If He escapes the cross, He leaves sin untouched. If He avoids death, He avoids redemption. The power of God is not shown by escape. It is shown by endurance. The cross is not the failure of Jesus’ mission. It is the fulfillment of it.

Then the sky darkens. This is not weather. This is witness. Creation reacts to the death of its Creator. The sun withdraws. Light hides. The world pauses. It is as if the universe refuses to proceed as normal while God is being executed by His own creation. Darkness is not just absence here. It is grief.

Jesus’ cry is not a breakdown of faith. It is a declaration of solidarity with the abandoned. He does not say, “I no longer believe.” He says, “Why hast thou forsaken me?” This is not disbelief. It is lament. It is the language of trust under strain. He is not questioning God’s existence. He is expressing the human experience of distance. He is speaking the words that millions of broken people have spoken in their darkest hours. And by speaking them, He sanctifies them. Prayer is not always praise. Sometimes it is pain with God’s name still attached to it.

The misunderstanding continues even here. Some think He is calling Elijah. They do not hear Him clearly. Pain distorts perception. People project myths onto suffering. They interpret agony as drama. But Jesus’ cry is not for rescue. It is the final bearing of separation so that separation can end.

When He dies, the veil tears. This is the quiet earthquake of the chapter. The barrier between God and humanity is ripped open. Access is no longer restricted. Presence is no longer hidden. God does not stay behind the curtain while humanity bleeds. He steps into exposure. He opens the way not by invitation but by destruction of the wall.

And then the centurion speaks. He has seen death before. He has watched bodies collapse. He has supervised executions. This is not new to him. But this death is different. This silence is different. This endurance is different. And he names it. “Truly this man was the Son of God.” The first human to say it openly is not a disciple. It is an executioner. That is the power of the cross. It convinces enemies. It awakens strangers. It reaches across professions, politics, and prejudices.

The women remain. They watch. They do not flee. They do not shout. They do not intervene. They witness. In a world that worships action, this is quiet courage. They stay with the dying when others run from the danger. They hold the place of memory. They become the keepers of the ending so they can become the witnesses of the beginning. Their faith does not look like solutions. It looks like loyalty.

Joseph of Arimathea steps out of secrecy. Until now, he has been a hidden follower. Now he risks association. He asks for the body. He provides a tomb. He honors a condemned man when it is no longer useful to do so. This is the cost of late courage. It arrives when applause is gone. It appears when risk remains but reward is unclear. Joseph’s faith shows up after death, not before it. And God receives it.

The stone is rolled in place. The chapter closes. There is no miracle yet. There is no angel yet. There is no triumph yet. There is only the sealed silence of a tomb.

This is where Mark 15 leaves us. With the cost visible and the outcome hidden.

And this is where our own faith often lives. Between promise and proof. Between confession and confirmation. Between what God has said and what we can see. We want Mark 16 without sitting inside Mark 15. We want resurrection without crucifixion. We want victory without surrender. But the Gospel does not allow that shortcut.

The cross is not just something Jesus endured. It is something we must understand. It shows us what sin looks like when it meets love. It shows us what power looks like when it refuses to dominate. It shows us what God is willing to endure to remain God while saving humanity.

Mark 15 does not present Jesus as a tragic hero. It presents Him as a faithful servant. He does not die because He is overwhelmed. He dies because He is obedient. He does not lose control. He gives it. He does not get trapped. He chooses to stay.

The greatest misunderstanding about the cross is that it is God’s reaction to sin. It is not. It is God’s decision about relationship. Sin could have been punished from a distance. Humanity could have been abandoned. Justice could have been executed without incarnation. But God chose presence. He chose proximity. He chose vulnerability. He chose to let the cost be personal.

This is why the cross is not just a religious symbol. It is a relational one. It says God does not love humanity from safety. He loves humanity from inside suffering. He does not shout forgiveness from heaven. He bleeds it on earth.

Mark 15 shows us that God is not impressed by power displays. He is revealed by sacrificial endurance. He is not recognized by crowds. He is confessed by those who see Him die without hate. The centurion sees it. The women know it. Joseph honors it. And heaven records it.

We often ask where God is when things fall apart. Mark 15 answers that question with a cross. He is there. Silent. Bleeding. Staying.

The world thought it ended a movement. It sealed a tomb. It went home satisfied. It did not realize it had only closed a door long enough for God to work unseen. Resurrection requires burial. New life requires letting go. Victory requires passing through defeat without surrendering to it.

Mark 15 is the chapter where love does not flinch. Where truth does not retreat. Where God does not abandon humanity even when humanity abandons Him.

It is the chapter that proves salvation is not an idea. It is a cost.

And that cost was paid without complaint.

Not because God enjoys suffering.

But because God refuses to leave us alone inside it.

Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph

Watch Douglas Vandergraph’s inspiring faith-based videos on YouTube

Support the ministry by buying Douglas a coffee

Tags: #música

NB Parker me tiró la caña esta vez y a mi MARO me gusta mucho desde antes incluso de sacar su primer disco…

Este es el último que ha publicado. Hay en el mundo muchos discos de duelo por una pérdida sentimental. Muy pocos como este. Maro es una mujer muy lista además de talentosa. El otro día decía yo que el amor romántico es la negación del amor y por eso es tan deprimente.

No hace tanto me decía el Príncipe negro que a él le parecía incomprensible mi postura de preferir a alguien que me importa feliz sin mi que mal o aburrido conmigo. La clave, creo, está en querer a la gente. Que te importen. Quererlas por lo que son como seres humanos y no como piezas en tu puzzle.

Maro esto lo entiende perfectamente. Esta relación terminará cuando seamos amigos, canta. Otra cosa que pasa con ciertos terapeutas fake de tiktok es que plantean el contacto cero como una forma de castigo, tortura o prueba de fortaleza, dependiendo de la corriente que manejen.

El contacto cero es el espacio de tiempo que necesitas para sanar y decidir qué relación quieres tener con la otra persona. Ella contigo. Y si eso encaja de alguna forma.

Es muy difícil que esto funcione en las lógicas del presunto amor presuntamente romántico. Es muy difícil que ese tiempo sin contacto deje de considerarse un rearme. Una trégua entre batallas.

Pero Maro es una mujer muy lista. Construyó otra cosa desde otro sitio. Algo que ya no funciona. Que hay que volver a reconstruir. Duele. Claro que duele.

Te metes en tu burbuja a cantar bajito. A entender por qué no funciona. Qué se rompió. Qué queda entero.

Te metes en tu burbuja a hacer tu parte confiando en que al otro lado haya alguien jugando limpio. Pero sabiendo en el fondo que da igual lo sucio que juegue. Porque tu juego limpio es suficiente para hacer la cicatriz. La tuya. La que cura la herida por la que podrías desangrarte. Y nadie puede curar heridas ajenas.

Maro susurra verdades como puños. Las incómodas y las otras. En las rupturas siempre están las dos. Tampoco funciona fingir que no hay nada bueno. Que nunca lo hubo.

Maro susurra mientras florece. Unas percusiones con sabor caboverdiano. Unas segundas voces como un eco en tu cabeza que también suenan a música morna.

It aint over es, con mucha diferencia, la mejor canción de un disco lleno de canciones preciosas, auténticas. It aint over no existiría sin el proceso de escribir las demás. Aunque esté justo en medio del disco es el final de un camino. Pero también el principio de otro.

Es esperanzador escucharla. Pensar que alguien en el mundo ha elegido entenderse, entender a quien quiere. Aceptar la realidad. Cuidar ese amor hasta las últimas consecuencias. Cuidarlo para que solo pueda matarlo su destinatario. Es una forma de justicia poética involuntaria estar en el mundo, hacer música, habiendo entendido tan bien qué te hace ser feliz. Ser capaz de hacer felices a otras personas.

Algunas cosas tienen que acabar para que muchas otras comiencen. Perder es negarte lo que sientes. Negarte la posibilidad de sentirlo. Maro ha hecho un disco donde todo late. Sabe perfectamente qué está haciendo. Hay una luz deslumbrante que se va encendiendo a medida que las canciones avanzan. Unas baterías que los guardianes del canon llaman pop porque están en un disco de una chavala. Pues ok. Pop. Sea. Lo que sea. Escuchad a Maro mientras vivís. Y todo estará al menos un poco mejor.

No matter who you are or what you do — Murder on the Orient Express you've heard about before. Granted, you may not know the story, but none the less, you know of it's existence.

The description on the Audible page even goes as far as calling it “The most widely read mystery of all time [...]“. And I'm inclined to believe it.

The story

This story's fame is well deserved. It's so well written. The characters, the setting, the mystery — it's all first class. The book is engaging from beginning to the end. It never drifts off and never loses it's focus.

Technically this title #10 in the Hercule Poirot series, but that doesn't matter in the slightest. It was my first book in the series and I never felt like I missed anything.

The recording

The Harper Audio recording of Dan Stevens is first class. The audio quality is good with clear sound and little to no noise.

Dan Stevens meanwhile does an amazing job. The emphasis is always spot on. And the characters' voices are done very well. The voices are distinct and consistent; I didn't notice a single fault throughout the entire reading.

And the accents are great. One might argue that they are a bit over the top, stereotypical even. But that's how they need to be. Both stereotypes and prejudices play an important roe in this book. Even the characters themselves breach the issue a couple of times. So in that sense also, the voices match both the characters and the story.

tl;dr: Who should listen to this?

Absolutely everyone. Especially if you know the story as of yet.

Link to Audible

“Hver anklage er en innrømmelse” har blitt et munnhell i møte med ytre høyre. Hvis du lurer på hva de gjør, eller kommer til å gjøre, så er det bare å se på hva de anklager motstanderne sine for. Tjuven tror at alle stjeler. De siste Epstein-avsløringene gir oss et nytt eksempel.

I årevis har vi fått høre om hvordan venstresiden inngår i skjulte internasjonale nettverk støttet opp av suspekte eliter, som sprer en ideologi som er skapt for å undergrave samfunnet vårt. “Kulturmarxister støttet av George Soros vil oppheve nasjonalstaten!”. Det er en absurd fiksjon, men tydeligvis ikke uten innslag av projeksjon.

For blant millioner av dokumenter i Epstein-filene finner vi også sporene av ideologiske høyreradikale nettverk som jobber for å undergrave samfunnet vårt, blant annet støttet og organisert av milliardæren Jeffrey Epstein, som også involverer norske aktører.

Vi ser disse sporene i E-postene mellom Børge Brende og Epstein som fabulerer om en “ny verdensarkitektur” basert på milliardær-eliteklubben i Davos, ikke FN. Eller i bildet av Brende som tar en hyggelig middag med MAGA-ideologen Bannon og Epstein i 2018, der Bannon ifølge Epstein var “very impressed”.

Vi ser dem også i e-postene der Terje Rød-larsen bruker Epstein for å sette Bannon i kontakt med Asle Toje, som også forsøker å få til et møte mellom Listhaug og Toje (“she is very likeminded with Steve”... Og senere meldingene der Epstein sier at “Steve and nobel guy in touch a lot” – presumptivt at Toje og Steve Bannon har mye kontakt. Merk at Toje selv omtalte Bannon som en fascist seinest i fjor. Dette er tilsynelatende et tema han har dyp og intim kjennskap til.

Vi ser naturligvis også utstrakt kontakt mellom Epstein og sentrale MAGA-aktører som Elon Musk, Peter Thiel og Trump selv. I dag har de fleste fått med seg hva slags destruktivt og samfunnsnedbrytende prosjekt MAGA er, og hvilken trussel det utgjør for vestlige liberale demokratier. Epstein-avsløringene gir et lite innblikk i hvordan elitenettverk brukes for å knytte kontakter og spre denne ideologien. Utrolig nok med verdens mest kjente seksualforbryter som nav.

Hvilken bedre måte å skjule slike nettverk på, enn å spre falske konspirasjonsteorier som adresserer eksistensen av elitenes konspirasjoner, men forvrenger alle faktaene? Figurer som Donald Trump og Elon Musk har vært blant de ivrigste for å bruke Epstein-konspirasjoner som et våpen mot sine ideologiske fiender, mens de selv åpenbart var tett involvert med ham. I en av de ferske epostene tigger Elon Musk om å få komme på fest på Epsteins øy “What day/night will be the wildest party on your island?!”.

Det er dette som gjør det så vanskelig for mange å forholde seg til disse avsløringene. Vi har blitt så vant til å himle med øynene over koko konspirasjonsteorier som “pizzagate” at det føles vanskelig å anerkjenne de faktiske konspirasjonene som nå kommer frem i dagen.

Men her finnes det en nøkkel: konspirasjonsteoretikerne på ytre høyre fløy har ikke nødvendigvis tatt feil om at det finnes mektige elitenettverk som undergraver vår samfunnsorden. De har bare tatt feil (eller løyet) om hvem disse aktørene er, og hvilket prosjekt de kjemper for.

my jugular:

I fit in a 3x4, and a 3x4 occupies and instant, an instant fits in a candle, and a candle fills a whole afternoon, an afternoon spreads across my bed sheets, and my bed sheets fit in a drop of dew, a drop of dew cradles a sunflower, and a sunflower blooms in a bowl of cereal, and a bowl of cereal nestles a spoon, and a spoon embraces a whole night, and the night is squeezed into a ticket, a ticket holds an entire movie, and a movie fits inside a projector, a projector enfolds the light, and the light travels the universe, the universe curls up in a book, and a book does not contain itself, but it fits inside my heart, and my heart holds the world, and in this world, I want to be lost.

/dec 25

you are the last cookie of the package the creme de la crême brûlée that song from cole porter the top of all the pokemons you are the one that tells me don't worry it will be all right, you are my favorite beatle, some days you are george, some days you are lennon, you are the national holiday that pops up in the middle of the week and we cancel the next 2 days you are a sudden new year's eve you are a morning of carnival, a passion friday and my passion is a saturday that never ends.

/nov 25