from M.A.G. blog, signed by Lydia

Lydia's Weekly Lifestyle blog is for today's African girl, so no subject is taboo. My purpose is to share things that may interest today's African girl.

This week's contributors: Lydia, Pépé Pépinière, Titi. This week's subjects: Crocs in the Boardroom? Who is Diane von Fürstenberg, Are you backing up? Package leaflet / Patient information leaflet (PIL) / package insert / drug facts label / package insert, and Lunch at Elmina Castle

Crocs in the Boardroom? The Accra Corporate Girl Said Yes! Let’s be honest: there was a time when Crocs were strictly for quick errands, hospital shifts, beach trips, or that “I’m not leaving the house for anything serious” mood. But fashion has officially changed the rules, and the Accra corporate girl is ready to clock in—with comfort and style. Yes, sis. Crocs can enter the corporate conversation. The secret? Styling them intentionally. The Corporate Crocs Formula: Forget the loud, overly decorated pairs for a moment. For the office, think neutral shades, sleek silhouettes, and elevated styling. Black, cream, beige, brown, navy, and even muted pastels can blend beautifully into a corporate wardrobe. Keep the Rest of the Outfit Polished: Crocs are already making a statement, so let the rest of your outfit say, “Yes, I planned this.” Add a structured handbag, neat hair, simple jewellery, and a clean, well-tailored outfit. The goal is not to look like you forgot your office shoes at home. The goal is to look like you knew exactly what you were doing. Jibbitz? Office Appropriate Edition: Personalising your Crocs can be fun, but maybe don’t turn your shoes into a full amusement park before your Monday morning presentation. Choose a few stylish charms—minimal, chic, and relevant to your personality. Remember: corporate, but make it fun. Who is Diane von Fürstenberg to be awarded the 2026 Couture Council Award from the Museum at FIT (Fashion Institute of Technology). Born Diane Simone Michele Halfin in Belgium in 1946 (she will be 80 in December), she is best known for her wrap dress. After finishing a strictly non-fashion schooling, she worked as an assistant to fashion photographer's agent Albert Koski in Paris, then moved to Italy to apprentice with the textile manufacturer Angelo Ferretti, where she learned about cut, color and fabric. Here she designed her first wrap tops and skirts as separates, and after seeing a customer wearing the pieces together, Fürstenberg converted the design to a one-piece dress. It is included in the collection of the Costume Institute of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She opted to first advertise the wrap dress in Women's Wear Daily in 1974, and included the tagline: “Feel like a woman, wear a dress!” Soon after the launch, 25,000 dresses were selling each week; one million dresses had been sold by 1976. After the success of the wrap dress, von Fürstenberg was featured on the cover of Newsweek magazine in 1976. The accompanying article declared her “the most marketable woman since Coco Chanel.” Fürstenberg relaunched her company in 1997, and reintroduced the wrap dress, which gained popularity with a new generation of women. Her fashion company, Diane von Furstenberg (DvF), is available in over 70 countries and 45 free-standing shops worldwide, with the company's headquarters and flagship boutique located in Manhattan's Meatpacking District. Von Fürstenberg at the 2008 New York Fashion Week

Are you backing up? Yes? In the cloud? Your phone(s)? And your laptop or Ipad? I often see whatsapp postings like: lost all my data, repeat all messages, lost all my numbers etc. So not everyone is doing the right thing. Personally I do write phone numbers of those who are really dear to me on an old fashioned piece of paper. And I do small size prints of pictures of very memorial people and events, I don't trust that cloud too much and I don't trust myself too much. I adore an Accra painter, Nii Korley and have bought some of his paintings to adorn my walls. Recently he contacted me, he‘d lost all the pictures of his paintings, his life's work. I sent back a few things he had sent to me earlier and I got a warm so grateful for giving me something important to take me back my studio of creativity. I replied: I'll find some more and got thank you so much for your sacrifice despite your busy schedule. The man is obviously in pain and now contacting anyone who might have pictures of his work. I know a TV program creator. She’s originated things like Ghana's Most Beautiful and many other well known programs. Because I have a few very smart computer friends she came to me, her hard disc had crashed, could I get it repaired? We couldn't. She’d lost 3 month of recordings. And I asked a fashion model for some pictures of her previous catwalk shows. Lost my phone, she answered. Backing up?

Package leaflet / Patient information leaflet (PIL) / package insert / drug facts label / package insert. Most of us don't even know the word for this. It’s that folded paper with fine print in the box of medicines you bought. And the majority of us don't read it anyway. Wrong. Let’s say you have a headache and have decided to take paracetamol. It’s an over-the-counter drug, OTC, so you don't need a prescription. Next to pharmacies, which are supposed to always have a qualified pharmacist present to always advise you about the drug you buy and the ailment you have, ordinary chemical sellers are also allowed to sell it. So much blah-blah text for simple paracetamol? Yes. If you would read that “PIL” (Patient information leaflet), you would learn that the maximum you can take is maximum one 1000 mg tablet per minimum 4 hours, and not more than 4000 mg per day. And that it can make you vomit, give stomach upset, rash, itching, swelling of face and lips, and dizziness. Here’s the interesting part: you had a headache, but now you have itching and a swollen face as well, so you rush back to the pharmacy, for another pill (and more money spent). Whilst stopping the paracetamol would also have done the trick. So read the PIL and recognize a side effect as a side effect, rather than a strange disease. And if you take more than that 4000 mg? It may be toxic to your liver, cause liver failure, and even death. Chemical seller did not tell you? He just sells PILS?

Lunch at Elmina Castle. This is on the World Heritage list (something passed down from past generations, including traditions, culture, property, and values) of UNESCO, meaning the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization. It draws a fair crowd of tourists, including busloads of school children. Unfortunately, often the bus leaves Accra late and the road currently is very bad for a big part, so once arrived late at the castle, the kids can take a selfie and then the journey goes back home. Pity, it is worth a visit and with the guides one gets a better understanding of Ghana’s history. A worthwhile recent addition is the café, Anomansa Restaurant. After the visit, one can take a decent jollof, and the spring rolls are crackling fresh, at reasonable prices. Service is prompt. Seating inside, quiet, or a bit up, outside with a splendid look over Elmina’s fishing harbour, which in itself is worth a UNESCO World Heritage nomination. And Ghana has many places worth visiting, for the locals and for the foreign tourists. Shame that mostly the hotel service is poor and not up to the international standards the tourists expect.

Lydia...

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from hypocritepoet

rambling

The water's running. Need to remember to turn it off so I don't flood the yard. The yard. Esh. I never did get momentum to turn it into anything other than a haven for weeds.

Headaches back this morning. Water. Need water. High quality H20.

Ants are back too. Defeated in the kitchen. Defeated in the living room. Defeated in the bathroom. Defeated in the studios.

Now... the art room. Zero chemicals... just takes time. Need to plan for the spring. Maybe borax/sugar traps outside.

Maybe move away from hell.

principle stenciil

–

Meeting last night. Eeesh. Part of it was my dark mood. But a bigger part was the teaching. I just tell myself, 'I chose this' and laugh. What's strange is, I aren't rilly wehry'd abert me. It's everyone else. My friends. Then again, maybe they're fine and i'm just insane.

Uh. don't like that word. It's almost a curse word. Unsettled? Imbalanced? Nuts?

scott c dinos

Maybe I'm just not thinking positively enough. Getting ready for art shows is always stressful and physically demanding. Ng cut the end of her finger off yesterday trimming a print.

“Should I go get it sutured?”

I laughed. I've cut the ends or side of my own digits off a dozen times over the years. Sometimes cleanly, once or twice like a badger chewed on it. And I suppose a surgeon could sew that flap back on. But what they'd more likely do is trim off the flap and bandage it.

I never bothered with the hospital. I just bandage it up and nurse it until the wound closes or the flap breaks free.

That which does not kill you, teaches you to be more careful with an x-acto blade.

At least it was sharp.

hokusai seuss

Bad news from the mechanic on Van. Looks like I'll be replacing that fuel pump myself. No way I'm shelling out more than my parents paid for their first home for a six hour job. Sheesh.

How come everyone in the universe is quadrupling their prices while my clients are asking me to lower mine?

Money. a satanic construct to allow the powerful to manipulate the stupid.

Interesting conversation last night about Rebekah (from the Bible). Genesis 24:1-67 is her account.

I love how she introduces herself when asked “who are you?”

“I am the daughter of Bethuel the son of Milcah, whom she bore to Nahor.”

Mom and grandparents, that's who I am. Smart. For a young woman who hasn't yet made a name for herself, but also establishes 'i've got people'. So not just social, there's some security as well.

Prosaically it's nice too: sort of archaic as opposed to way we speak now, 'Oh, hi, I'm Jack.'

In the account, she's praised for her hardworking-ness, her beauty and her obedience to God.

From modern eyes, it's a weird account. She's basically sold into a marriage. Which is kind of distasteful from our western POV. Where's the romance? Where's the falling in love? The 'I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.'?

Things were different.

I'm sure good parents would love to have a say in choosing a mate for their children. Rebekah's dad, we will find out later, was a bit of a scoundrel when it came to marrying off Rebekah's younger sisters.

It was a good study of the material. but the crowd just wasn't there. There were HUGE opportunities to discuss the importance and power of cooperation and respect. But mostly, we just talked about watering camels.

Yes, yes, it's an interesting point that she hauled up a couple of hundred gallons of water. She was clearly a very hard-working young woman.

But her willingness to follow what appeared to be God's direction was way more impressive. To leave her family and comfort (well, relative comfort) and join a whole new team... impressive.

And it worked out well. But she couldn't have known that.

Except that it was God's will.

Sometimes that's easy. Do God's will and it will work out.

Sometimes... it would be easier to walk over molten glass.

Sometimes you feel like Sisyphus.

—

But Rebekah. She was a swell gal. She respected others. If there's currency, real currency... it's respect and love.

—

Slept well. Unsettling dreams. Someone was angry at me and someone else chased. Someone was calling me a psycho.

Don't like this format of oldest posts at the end of the blog. A lot of unnecessary clicking to get to the end of the line. I was going to abandon this and move my energy else where. But I need somehere I can just blah blah blah and then pull from this for more sanitized presentation.

Let's switch back.

dream pepepr

-

Maybe bring back the diary format. What the hell. Why not.

The world is a big place. Wherever you are, dear reader, hope your day is filled with joy and gladness. Even if the sun isn't quite as bright as it could be, you can always find happiness in your heart.

Like Joe Dirt says, “you can't have no in your heart.” joe dirt

I better get to work. I could sit here all day long rambling away.

But you know? this helps. talking to you. I was pretty dour an hour ago... now? Feeling positively springy... sometimes you just got to exorcise a little.

night fire

—

 
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from sector7-signal-Inkari

It has been a while...

Apparently it takes a nationally watched murder trial, two deadlock notes, a disputed holdout juror, and seven days of deliberations to drag me back to the keyboard.

Not exactly the triumphant return I had planned.

As of this writing (9/4/26), the jury in Lindsay Clancy’s murder trial is entering its seventh day without a unanimous verdict. Deliberations began August 27 in Plymouth Superior Court after nearly six weeks of testimony before Judge William Sullivan. The panel — nine women and three men — has already told the court twice that it cannot agree. Defense attorney Kevin Reddington has publicly described the split as 11–1 and asked the judge to remove a juror he says “spurned the instructions” on reasonable doubt. The judge declined Thursday. An inquiry of that juror was expected Friday morning. A mistrial is possible. A verdict is also possible. Neither has arrived.

That is the news.

Here is what is not in dispute:

On January 24, 2023, in a house in Duxbury, Massachusetts, Cora Clancy, five years old; Dawson Clancy, three years old; and Callan Clancy, eight months old, were strangled with exercise bands. Lindsay Clancy does not deny causing their deaths. Afterward she cut herself and jumped from a second-story window. She survived. She is now paralyzed from the waist down and has been held at Tewksbury Hospital. The children did not survive. Callan died days later. The strangulation counts were later dropped as redundant with the murder charges. The trial is about the three murders.

The legal question before the jury is not whether the children are dead. It is whether Clancy was criminally responsible when she killed them. Massachusetts law allows a finding of not guilty by reason of lack of criminal responsibility if a mental disease or defect left her unable to appreciate the wrongfulness of her conduct or unable to conform it to the law. The defense says postpartum psychosis — and a disastrous course of psychiatric treatment — did exactly that. Prosecutors say she planned it: she sent her husband, Patrick, out for takeout and medication, then used the window of time. A first-degree murder conviction carries life without parole. A finding of no criminal responsibility would not send her home. It would ordinarily mean commitment to a state psychiatric facility, subject to review. Those are the stakes in the room. And before someone adjusts their glasses, clears their throat, opens Outlook, and begins composing an email titled Actually, Inkari… Yes.

I know!

The jury is not sitting in a room debating whether murdering children is morally acceptable. They are answering a specific and difficult legal question about criminal responsibility under Massachusetts law. Thank you, imaginary commenter.

You may lower your hand now. Because I am talking about something larger than twelve jurors in Plymouth. I am talking about us. I am talking about a culture so terrified of making a moral judgment that every clear sentence now requires seventeen disclaimers, three diagnoses, six specialists, a flowchart, a podcast miniseries, and a laminated permission slip before anyone is allowed to say:

Killing children is wrong.

There.

I typed it.

The ceiling did not collapse.

The internet probably survived.

You will too.

Remember their names Cora was five.

Dawson was three.

Callan was eight months old. Remember those names. Because if we are going to spend weeks talking about Lindsay Clancy’s mind, Lindsay Clancy’s medications, Lindsay Clancy’s treatment, Lindsay Clancy’s suffering, Lindsay Clancy’s diagnosis, Lindsay Clancy’s legal responsibility, Lindsay Clancy’s doctors, and Lindsay Clancy’s psychiatric history, perhaps somewhere in all that sophisticated discussion we could remember one inconvenient detail: There were three other human beings in that house. Three children.

Three victims.

Three little people who depended entirely on the adults around them to keep them safe. And they are dead.

We collect explanations like coupons Somewhere along the way, our culture developed a peculiar allergy to moral clarity. We love explanations.

We collect them like coupons. Trauma.

Mental illness.

Childhood.

Medication.

Hormones.

Stress.

Environment.

Systems.

Diagnosis. Every one of those things can matter.

Some of them matter enormously here. Nobody needs to pretend Lindsay Clancy was mentally well. Her struggles are not a last-minute courtroom invention. The prosecution and defense disagree over her condition and what it did to her criminal responsibility. Serious concerns about her mental health and psychiatric treatment are part of the established history of this case. Mental illness is real. Postpartum psychosis is real. People can become profoundly disconnected from reality. Psychiatric care can fail. Doctors can make mistakes. Medication can be complicated. Families can miss warning signs. Systems built to catch people before catastrophe can fail spectacularly. I am not interested in pretending otherwise. But can we please remember that Lindsay was not the only person hurting? Imagine that.

Apparently this is the revolutionary contribution Inkari has returned from hiatus to provide. Yes.

Lindsay was hurting mentally.

We know.

We have discussed it.

Experts have testified about it.

Lawyers have argued about it.

News programs have dissected it.

Millions of strangers have debated it. Her suffering has received articles, interviews, court days, expert analysis, and endless commentary. Now here is my apparently outrageous question: Has anybody stopped long enough to think about how the children were hurting? Cora.

Dawson.

Callan. The conversation keeps orbiting the suffering of the adult who killed them while the children she killed are slowly pushed toward the edge of their own story. They become “the three children.”

“The victims.”

“The Clancy children.”

A sentence halfway down an article before we return to psychiatric medications. No. They had names.

They had bodies.

They could experience pain.

They depended on their mother.

They were completely vulnerable to the adults responsible for protecting them.

They were the ones physically harmed.

They were the ones whose lives ended.

They were the ones who never got to sit in a courtroom and explain what happened to them. And somehow we have become so sophisticated in our compassion that we are in danger of compassioning the victims straight out of their own murder case.

The question underneath the case Does mental illness suddenly erase a person’s responsibility not to kill another human being? If your answer is simply yes, with no qualification and no further thought required, then I need you to understand the size of the thing you just said. Mental illness can affect judgment.

It can distort perception.

It can interfere with someone’s ability to distinguish reality from delusion.

Severe psychiatric illness can affect legal culpability. And yes — there are circumstances under American law where a person can commit a horrific act and nevertheless be found not criminally responsible because of their mental state. That legal concept exists for a reason. Fine.

Take it seriously. But stop turning that legal question into a moral magic trick where three children disappear beneath the tablecloth. Their lives mattered.

Their suffering mattered.

What happened to them mattered.

They were hurting too. Except they don’t get psychiatrists.

They don’t get attorneys.

They don’t get expert witnesses.

They don’t get sympathetic profiles explaining the complexities surrounding that night.

They don’t get years afterward to process what happened.

They don’t get another morning. So perhaps, for five minutes, we could let them occupy the center of the conversation. Because somewhere between understanding why someone did something and deciding what that means, America appears to have driven the family minivan directly through the guardrail. Explanation became exoneration.

Context became absolution.

Compassion became an excuse to mumble when we should speak plainly.

And nuance, once a useful tool for understanding complicated things, has been promoted to Supreme Moral Emperor of Everything. Say that an action was evil and someone immediately assumes you believe mental illness is fictional.

Acknowledge mental illness and somebody else assumes you have declared the action morally neutral.

Express compassion for the perpetrator and you are accused of forgetting the victims.

Demand justice for the victims and someone concludes you have no compassion for the mentally ill. Apparently the human brain is now capable of holding precisely one thought at a time. Very advanced species we have become.

Two things can be true Lindsay Clancy may have been profoundly mentally ill.

And killing Cora, Dawson, and Callan was wrong. The healthcare system may have failed her.

And three children were still killed. Her psychiatric condition matters when determining criminal responsibility.

And their deaths do not become less horrific because her mind may have been severely disordered. We can investigate failures in her treatment. We should.

We can ask whether her doctors recognized what was happening. We should.

We can study postpartum mental illness more seriously. We absolutely should.

We can build better systems for mothers in psychiatric emergency. Please, for the love of all things sane, we should. And while doing every one of those things, we can maintain the apparently endangered belief that parents possess a responsibility not to kill their children. These thoughts do not cancel each other out.

They are not mortal enemies.

They can sit at the same table. Compassion matters.

Justice matters.

Mental health matters.

Personal responsibility matters.

Context matters.

Right and wrong still exist.

Humans are complicated.

Morality does not therefore evaporate. That distinction matters because mental illness is not imaginary.

But neither is morality. And I am deeply uncomfortable with a culture increasingly convinced that acknowledging one requires dismantling the other. Because where exactly does that road end? If every explanation eventually becomes an excuse, accountability becomes impossible. There will always be a reason. Always. Trauma somewhere. A wound. A fear. An ideology. A diagnosis. A childhood. A chemical. An influence. A circumstance. A desire. A pressure. A biological process. Human beings do not commit wrongdoing inside sterile laboratory vacuums.

Every sinner has a biography.

That has never meant sin does not exist.

Scripture already knew this tension Christianity, inconveniently for modern sensibilities, has understood this for a long time. Scripture does not present humanity as a collection of cartoon villains twirling mustaches in dark alleyways. It presents people as broken. Wounded. Deceived. Tempted. Afraid. Angry. Sick. Selfish. Sometimes oppressed. Sometimes oppressing someone else. Sometimes victimized. Sometimes victimizing others. Frequently several of those things before breakfast. And yet Scripture never concludes: Well, everyone is complicated, so I suppose good and evil are canceled. Quite the opposite. “Woe to those who call evil good, and good evil;

Who substitute darkness for light and light for darkness;

Who substitute bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter!”

— Isaiah 5:20, NASB 1995 Grace means something because sin is real.

Mercy means something because judgment is real.

Forgiveness means something because there is actually something requiring forgiveness. You cannot preserve biblical compassion by deleting biblical accountability.

That is not mercy.

That is moral anesthesia. And America seems increasingly determined to sedate its conscience. Paul did not treat the moral law as a niche religious hobby. He said even those without the written Law still show it at work in them: “For when Gentiles who do not have the Law do instinctively the things of the Law, these, not having the Law, are a law to themselves, in that they show the work of the Law written in their hearts, their conscience bearing witness and their thoughts alternately accusing or else defending them.”

— Romans 2:14–15, NASB 1995 That is why the simplest sentence in this whole affair still rings. Not because a jury said it. Because conscience does. We are perfectly comfortable proclaiming MENTAL HEALTH MATTERS when mental illness is marketable. When it looks like anxiety beneath a weighted blanket. When it is depression expressed through a tasteful pastel infographic. When it is someone bravely admitting they are struggling while gentle piano music plays underneath. Good.

Have those conversations.

Please.

I mean that. Mental-health awareness matters. People should be able to ask for help without shame. But severe mental illness is not always photogenic. Sometimes it is terrifying. Sometimes someone loses contact with reality. Sometimes someone becomes dangerous to themselves. Sometimes someone becomes dangerous to other people. Sometimes people are harmed. Sometimes people die. If our compassion for mental illness evaporates the moment illness becomes frightening, then we never actually cared about severe mental illness.

We cared about branding. Listen carefully, because the opposite error is sitting directly across the aisle. Acknowledging severe mental illness does not require pretending actions lose all moral significance. We should be capable of saying:

“This person may have been extraordinarily sick.”

And:

“This should never have happened.”

Without our heads exploding. We should be able to investigate psychiatric failures without turning Cora, Dawson, and Callan into collateral damage in a policy argument.

We should be able to discuss postpartum psychosis seriously without allowing three children to become supporting characters in the story of the person who killed them.

We should be able to recognize diminished criminal responsibility where the law determines it exists without rewriting the underlying act into something harmless. That is not contradiction.

That is adulthood. Justice without mercy becomes brutality.

Mercy without truth becomes sentimentality.

Compassion without moral clarity eventually becomes cowardice.

Moral clarity without compassion becomes cruelty. We need all of them.

At the same time. Annoying, isn’t it?

Humans keep insisting on being complicated. Micah already refused the false choice: “He has told you, O man, what is good;

And what does the LORD require of you

But to do justice, to love kindness,

And to walk humbly with your God?”

— Micah 6:8, NASB 1995 Justice.

Kindness.

Humility.

Not one of those words devouring the other two.

One thing here is not complicated Three children should still be alive. Cora.

Five years old. Dawson.

Three years old. Callan.

Eight months old. Perhaps before we spend another day arguing over which ideological tribe gets custody of this tragedy, we could remember them. Not as evidence.

Not as Exhibit Whatever.

Not as symbols in a debate about maternal mental health.

Not as ammunition for whichever side of the internet woke up angry this morning. Children.

A little girl.

A little boy.

A baby.

Whatever comes from that courtroom, I hope we possess enough moral backbone to resist turning it into something it isn’t. A guilty verdict would not prove mental illness is fake.

A verdict finding her not criminally responsible would not make killing children morally acceptable.

A mistrial would not transform disagreement about a legal standard into disagreement about whether three children’s deaths were horrific. The jury has a difficult question.

They should answer it carefully.

That is their responsibility. The rest of us have another. Do not become so intoxicated with explanation that you forget explanation has limits. Understanding an action does not automatically sanctify it.

Diagnosing something does not baptize it.

Finding the wound does not resurrect the people injured by it.

Having compassion for someone’s broken mind does not require gouging out your moral compass and throwing it into the nearest river.

And caring deeply about mental illness does not require looking at three dead children and suddenly becoming frightened of the word wrong. “Deliver those who are being taken away to death,

And those who are staggering to slaughter, Oh hold them back.

If you say, ‘See, we did not know this,’

Does He not consider it who weighs the hearts?

And does He not know it who keeps your soul?

And will He not render to man according to his work?”

— Proverbs 24:11–12, NASB 1995 The children cannot be held back now.

That is the horror.

What remains is whether we will pretend we did not know what we were looking at.

Seven days and counting.

Take the law seriously.

Take psychiatric illness seriously.

Take postpartum psychosis seriously.

Investigate the doctors.

Investigate the medications.

Investigate the system.

Ask whether warning signs were missed.

Ask whether better intervention could have prevented this.

Ask every uncomfortable question available. Please ask them. Maybe answering those questions saves the next mother.

Maybe it saves the next child. But for the love of everything holy, stop acting as though complexity requires moral paralysis. Some actions can be understood and still condemned.

Someone can deserve compassion while the thing they did deserves judgment.

Someone’s suffering can matter without mattering more than the suffering of the people they harmed.

Mercy and justice can occupy the same room.

Mental illness and moral responsibility can exist in the same conversation. And sometimes the bravest sentence left in a culture drowning beneath qualifications is the simplest one: What happened was wrong. Lindsay was hurting.

Yes. So were they.

And they do not get to tell us about it. Three children should be alive.

No diagnosis changes that.

No verdict changes that.

No amount of nuance changes that. So before you remember the defendant’s diagnosis —

before you remember the lawyers —

before you remember the experts —

before you remember the arguments —

before you remember the holdout juror, the deadlock notes, the Friday inquiry, the possible mistrial — Remember their names. Cora.

Dawson.

Callan. Everything else comes after.

Yep, the classic one was: — inkari 🧵⚡

Sector Δ7

Data Recovered — Romans 1:20

Note on the record: As of Friday morning, September 4, 2026, there is still no verdict. The 11–1 figure is the defense’s characterization, not a court finding. A finding of no criminal responsibility would not equal walking free. The children’s names and ages follow the established public record of the case. Scripture quoted from the New American Standard Bible, 1995.

 
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from Trollish Delver

With AI being the potential downfall of creativity, now more than ever we need to be making shit that AI just could never. All AI will ever give you is middle-of-the-road milquetoast rot. “Designers” out there are generating images and text of modules and calling it a day. And the more that happens, the more LLMs train on that data and you have a cycle of shite.

Weirdo jank is the way forward. AI can’t do weirdo jank. It has to make everything ‘just so’. “Oh but I want to play serious games where there’s mechanical stability and balance” – do you though? Or do you want to throw some dice and have a laugh coming up with nonsense with your friends? Ok, maybe you do want serious, and that’s ok, but I dunno – I think we need to start getting really strange with it. Cut your restraints. Go against convention. Don’t listen to the likes of Reddit who have 1000 reasons you shouldn’t do something. They’re mostly children. Stop talking yourself out of weird jank and embrace it.

Corpos hate you and they want everyone to be little automatons without a mind of their own. Roleplaying games can save us from that. Horrible little artpunk nonsense games that stop use from scrolling or buying a thing from an ad (likely AI generated). AI companies hate you because they want everyone to be smooth-brained idiots sloshing around in the slop bucket, drinking from the slop bucket. Original ideas are in danger.

“Oh but I’m not a game designer” – yes you are. If you have an idea, put it out there. Draw it in crayon and scan it. You don’t need to know stats and maths. It’s JANK. Let the act of creativity be one of rebellion against the robots and the suits.

Commission artists, if you can. If you can’t, hack up stock photos. Use old book illustrations. Draw some shit yourself – whatever you do will be leagues better than what the robots spill out of their rancid shafts. Limitation breeds creativity, and that’s the opposite of AI which seeks unlimited data, which just becomes a shit blancmange.

Make your nasty little jank game on a bit of tissue. Play it with strangers. They’ll probably have a lot of fun and you might make some friends. AI is not a friend.

Bathe the world in creative detritus and laugh.

Get my own jank on Patreon.

 
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from Blog of Sand

White Whale of a Blog Update

I believe this is the 85th post on the Blog of Sand thus far. I will say the frequency of posting and amount of content most likely won't remain at this level... I'm more working through a backlog of ideas and content I've built up over the years.

That said, the Blog has surpassed the length of Moby Dick! By my calculation, Moby Dick is approximately 1,233,760 characters, and this blog currently has 1,469,670 characters. By far the largest contributing series to the bulk of this blog is the Starcraft Co. series. It is 25 posts long so far, with three more planned posts (more if I decide to break them up like I did post 23) and it accounts for approximately 41% of the bulk of the Blog at this point. However, once it is completed that percent will dwindle over time as new content gets posted. The Inbetweener Series is 12 posts long and accounts for about 12.5% of the blogs content, but I fully anticipate it to be the longest and richest post series in terms of the number of installments and amount of content before I'm done.

The next milestone I have targeted is beating the King James Bible in terms of character count. That may take quite a while. The text file I downloaded for it is 4,638,061, so I'm less than a 1/3 of the way there and will probably need to take some substantial breaks before then. We will see though, it's hard to predict post inspiration.

So coming down the line we have the following:

-The epic conclusion to Starcraft Co. -Continuing the Inbetweeners Series -A number of academic analyses I have planned -A few short stories -Experimental RPG systems -Math related posts -A liminal space series, inspired partially by The Backrooms -much much more...

 
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from hypocritepoet

I can't believe it

https://open.spotify.com/track/24KqWcpyrY1COcRPYt2ef5?si=c55c6353ed204b5a

“Oh My God”

Time on your side that will never end The most beautiful thing you can ever spend But you work in a shirt with your name tag on it Drifting apart like a plate tectonic It don't matter to me 'Cos all I wanted to be Was a million miles from here Somewhere more familiar Too much time spent dragging the past up I didn't see you not looking when I messed up Settling down in your early twenties Sucked more blood than a backstreet dentist It don't matter to me 'Cos all I wanted to be Is a million miles from here Somewhere more familiar Oh my god I can't believe it I've never been this far away from home And oh my god I can't believe it I've never been this far away from home And oh my god I can't believe it I've never been this far away from home And oh my god I can't believe it I've never been this far away from home Great rulers make for greater glory The only thing growing is our history Knock me down I'll get right back up again I'll come back stronger than a powered up Pac-Man It don't matter to me 'Cos all I wanted to be Was a million miles from here Somewhere more familiar Oh my god, I can't believe it I've never been this far away from home And oh my god I can't believe it I've never been this far away from home And oh my god I can't believe it I've never been this far away from home And oh my god I can't believe it I've never been this far away from home

[Instrumental Break]

Oh my, god I can't believe it I've never been this far away from home And oh my god I can't believe it I've never been this far away from home And oh my god I can't believe it I've never been this far away from home And oh my god I can't believe it I've never been this far away from home

 
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from The Essayist's Notebook

“In good faith”

or “Of good faith”?

I'm working in my barn.

Midway between a church founded by Eleanor of Aquitaine, Huguenot at the time Michel de Montaigne was writing, and the home I now occupy, formerly the sixteenth-century home of the choirmaster appointed by a Catholic hierarchy to win the local protestant congregation back to the Catholic Church.

One wall of my barn is likely the remains of the tourelle of the château of the Abbé Laïque, the lay-abbot of this village, and my potager is outside the former tithe yard of the enclosure. And the seigneur to whom they would all have owed fealty was none other than Henri of Navarre – first a Protestant, then the Catholic King of France, and the man who eventually brought an end to the Wars of Religion; exemplified in the small village landscape in which I am currently toiling.

As the labour proceeds I am reflecting on the English-language Wikipedia article I have just read on Michel de Montaigne and his Essays. Montaigne's famous Avis au lecteur opens with a declaration that he presents himself to the reader de bonne foi. English translations almost invariably render this as “in good faith”. The translation is perfectly defensible.

But as I put away my tools there is a tiny nag, and it will not go away. In modern English, in my experience, in good faith usually refers to the manner of an action. If I act in good faith, I act honestly, sincerely, without intent to deceive. The emphasis falls on conduct. I may be mistaken, but my intentions are honourable.

Yet I find myself hearing the French de bonne foi slightly differently.

Perhaps this is partly because of where I am. I have Irish and Basque friends, and Breton ones too. And perhaps living amongst people whose languages have developed in such different relationships to French and English has made me more attentive to the nominal structures of language – to the way prepositions and nouns can carry meaning together rather than simply marking grammatical relationships that modern English would treat as incidental.

It has also made me wary of assuming that the grammars of modern English, and of modern French, transparent windows onto an older language. We have compressed some things that earlier languages allowed to remain more spacious.

The old association between preposition and noun can carry something that a modern grammatical analysis is inclined to tidy away. And de seems to me to be one of those small words whose apparent simplicity becomes less certain the longer one looks at it. I am not suggesting that de simply means from here. In fact, of is perhaps what interests me first.

Un livre de bonne foi. – A book of good faith.

Even as I write this, that reads a little differently to the Wikipedia article. That sentence seems to me to ask a different question from a book written in good faith. In good faith asks something about the manner in which Montaigne writes. But of good faith seems to ask something about the constitution of the work itself: What kind of book is this? And if I allow myself to take the thought one step further, another question appears: From where does Montaigne speak?

I don't mean that de bonne foi should therefore be translated from good faith. That would be to make the speculation do more work than the language warrants. Rather, the awkwardness of the thought has made me stop.

And now I look through the opening in the barn wall towards the old church. The architecture reveals its history without needing to explain it. Catholic, Huguenot, Catholic again. The old structures of land and authority remain in the landscape, even though the people who inhabited them and the allegiances they carried have long since changed.

And suddenly the word foi begins to trouble me more than de. Because here foi isn't an abstract word. Faith has been lived here. It has been believed and imposed, defended and abandoned, inherited and converted, even woo'd by music. It has been bound up with allegiance, authority and trust. And perhaps that is why Montaigne's little phrase catches me.

The Avis au lecteur is unusual. Montaigne tells the reader that his book has no grand public purpose beyond presenting himself honestly to his family and friends. He has not written to seek fame, instruction or public approval. Instead, he offers a plain and unadorned portrait of his character, habits and thoughts, preserving a record of himself as he is.

The book's subject is not simply the world. It is Montaigne himself encountering the world. And so he asks the reader not to expect anything more than a sincere self-portrait written de bonne foi.

As the author of essayism.org, I grasp his intention. The Avis au lecteur may even be an inspiration for essayism.org itself. Only now do I realize this. And now the nag is becoming hesitation. Past hesitation now, reluctance itself. I cannot quite accept the conventional translation without qualification.

In good faith can make Montaigne sound like a conscientious reporter of facts. Yet the Essays are not reports. They are attempts to establish a position from which a human being may speak truthfully about their own experience despite uncertainty. The essay is not founded on certainty but on a fidelity (foi ?) to experience.

I pick up a carpenter's pencil lying on my bench, take a rag and wipe away an area of decaying seventeenth-century plaster. And adopt the old habit I and Montaigne both share: writing to clarify.

In good faith asks: How is Montaigne speaking? Of good faith asks: What kind of work is this? From good faith asks: From where does Montaigne speak?

I wonder if the final question might be the most significant. But perhaps I am getting ahead of myself. Because I have begun by worrying about de, and now I find myself worrying about foi. And foi seems to open onto a much larger territory than I had intended to enter...

Faith. – Fidelity. – Trust. – Allegiance. The keeping of one's word. – Perhaps even the conditions under which one person can speak to another and ask to be believed without pretending to possess certainty.

Montaigne lived through the French Wars of Religion. Henri of Navarre, whose name is written into the history of this landscape, was first Protestant and then Catholic King of France. The very distinction between faith and allegiance was not as clean as we might now imagine.

But I don't want to resolve that here. The historical landscape has already done what it needs to do. It has made the word feel heavier. I began with de. I thought I was wondering whether in good faith was quite the right way to hear de bonne foi.

Now I find myself wondering what Montaigne's foi actually asks of the reader. That is probably another note. For now, I will leave the thread where I found it. – De bonne foi.

And go back to the work- the land demands attention.

 
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from engenetics.org

Personal Firewalls and the Fight Against Groupthink

This article was first published in 2007. The information contained in it is absolutely even more important today than when it was first written. Read on—and think about it…

This edition of The Doctor’s Notes concerns an extremely important issue: groupthink, and how to use personal firewalls can be used to fight this insidious behavior.

Also known as herd behavior or crowd behavior, groupthink is the ability of a collection of individuals to decide on courses of action that the individual members might not choose. Obvious examples of this type of behavior include mobs and riots, but also include actions of entire nations such as the Holocaust or the Spice Girls frenzy.

Groupthink can also be seen in smaller groups where friends may choose to go see a movie that none of the individuals really want to see—they just go along with the crowd. And that is the threat of groupthink: it stifles the will of the individual in order to support questionable goals of the group.

The Sources of Groupthink

What causes groupthink? Groupthink can be caused by a number of factors, but primarily there are three major causes: External threats to the group with low hope of a better solution than the one offered by the leader; groups with a high group cohesiveness and low individual will; and groups with a leader that has high persuasive strength.

In the first case, the presence of an extreme threat to the group can be anything from an outright attack to a steady pressure from an outside source (such as a propaganda campaign). When there is a perception that there is “no other choice” than one proposed by the group leader, undesirable actions can be chosen by the group.

Another cause of groupthink is the presence of a highly developed group cohesion, coupled with low individual will. Examples can include military units, families and friends. The individual does not want to offend the others in the group, or to let them down. When the individuals do not speak up or raise concerns about a proposed course of action, poor choices by the group can also be made.

The final primary cause of group think is the presence of a highly persuasive group leader. This cause can be seen commonly in cults, but also in companies or organizations in the business world. The will of the individual is sacrificed by the group to the will of the leader, no matter what the leader’s decisions might be.

In reality, all three causes are frequently present. Look, for example, at the Jim Jones Tragedy in Guyana. There was a perception of an extreme threat (the government, the non-believers); high group cohesion caused by living in a separate, isolated compound in the jungle; and an extremely charismatic leader in Jim Jones.

But examples of groupthink need not be so extreme. See what happens when a family or group of friends is going out for dinner, and must choose a restaurant quickly. The external threat is really time, the group cohesion is very basic (the family or friendships) and there is usually the presence of a strong leader figure in the group.

Recognize the Signs

But what are the symptoms of groupthink? There are nine basic symptoms:

  1. The illusion of invulnerability of the group.
  2. Unquestioned belief in the inherent morality of the group.
  3. Collective rationalization of group’s decisions.
  4. Shared stereotypes of outsiders, particularly opponents.
  5. Self-censorship within the group, where members withhold criticisms.
  6. Illusion of unanimity, or false consensus.
  7. Direct pressure on dissenters to conform.
  8. Self-appointed “mindguards” protect the group from negative information.
  9. Quantum entanglements among the group members.

Of the symptoms, the most important is the last: quantum entanglements. By measuring the psychic quantum levels of the individuals and their interactions with each other, a significant jump in energy levels can be seen.

This can cause the group psyche to “tilt,” if you will. While quantum entanglements exist everywhere individuals interact with each other, it is this spike in energy levels as groupthink sets in that is cause for concern.

By measuring the psychic quantum levels of the individuals and their interactions with each other, a significant jump in energy levels can be seen.

In particular, groupthink is a threat to the coming Singularity. A common misconception about the Singularity is that it will involve a communal mind or hive consciousness. This is definitely not the case.

Due to both the synchronous and asynchronous actions of individuals, the Singularity will be achieved. Poor or dangerous decisions caused by groupthink without the dominance of the individual’s will will in fact delay the achievement of the Singularity. For this reason, artificial intelligences are critical to bringing this goal to reality.

Control the Effects of Groupthink

But how can we limit the effects of groupthink? In short, use personal firewalls to limit the effects of the quantum entanglements produced by groupthink. Personal firewalls allow the individual to in effect “filter” the energy spikes that groupthink can produce in the individual’s quantum levels.

In particular, personal firewalls block negative energies on the Layer 3 area of Jungian Shadows. According to Jung, each individual has distinct shadow-selves that the person sees as separate and different from what the individual believes others see. The Layer 3 area of these Shadow-selves deals with decision making and personal self-assertion.

By blocking negative energies at this level, personal firewalls are extremely effective in allowing the individual to find space to express his or her free will within the group construct. In effect, this means the individual can think for themselves and be their own person. This ability is extremely critical in lower the existential risk of the Singularity overwhelming the individual.

While personal firewalls have a definite impact on dampening these resonances in quantum levels, the impact of future events is extremely difficult to predict in the present.

An additional complication in the fight against groupthink is the effects of entropic resonances. Not only do quantum entanglements affect the ability of the individual to make free choices, but the entropic resonances from the past and future impact it as well.

Fluctuations in the psychic energy levels—the quantum levels—can affect the moods of the individual and therefore their rational thinking process. Extreme events from the past or future can affect these levels in a definite, measurable manner. While personal firewalls have a definite impact on dampening these resonances in quantum levels, the impact of future events is extremely difficult to predict in the present.

A Call To Action—For the Future

But what can you do? Actually, quite a bit. Attend classes at The Center and learn to develop your personal firewall through pinpointing your Heisenberg center.

Refining these skills does not happen overnight, and requires constant hard work and guidance to achieve. At the Center not only do we provide basic and ongoing instruction, but we also provide many tutorials and workshops on how to improve these abilities in real-world scenarios.

While we have made tremendous strides in determining the effects of groupthink on the human mind, we are not there yet. Research is expensive and we depend on donations to make the strides we need to fully quantify these effects. You can help by donating funds to help continue this website and the work that it supports.

engenetics.org is the key to the future, and only you can help all of us at the Center bring that about—today. Ω

Dr. M. E. Tabyánan Executive Director and Founder The Center for engenetics.org Studies

“There is a direct tie between the information that passes through personal firewalls and the stability of the individual.” —The Connection Between Mental Stability and Personal Firewalls (1995)

Ask The Doctor

Question: Can we use engenetics.org to model the political process? —Tom Long, Phoenix AZ, USA The Doctor: Great question, Tom. Absolutely we can model this process. In fact, we have been working on that for the last decade at The Center. While we still have a long way to go, we can predict with a fair amount of certainty election processes, as well as what leaders will do in certain instances.

What Others Are Saying

“I love you, Dr. Tabyánan!” —Justine Foreman, Washington DC, USA

“My family life is so much better now that Dr. M. E. Tabyánan taught me how to find my personal firewall. Thank you, Doctor!” —Karen Appleton, Los Angeles CA, USA

“My friends look at me funny now, but I know the truth: The Doctor is making me better.” —Karen Chong, Hong Kong, China

#thedoctorsnotes #personalfirewalls #groupthink #entropicresonances

 
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from Notes I Won’t Reread

One of my employees remembered something about me today. nothing important. we were going over some work when he said,” you dont like people moving things around on your desk.” i asked him how he knew, he said i’d told him before, i asked when, he didnt know. i asked if someone else had mentioned it. he said no, i asked if he had noticed it himself, he said probably. Hah, probably. i dont like that word. it means he doesnt know or he does know and doesnt care enough to explain it. either way, i found it irritating. he went back to whatever he was doing after that, i dont think he understood why i kept looking at him, hes not particularly observant. his work is average at best. he dresses like he gets dressed in the dark and somehow still manages to look surprised every morning that he has to come to work. hes the sort of employee you’d forget about five minutes after speaking to him, which is more annoying that he remembered something about me that i dont remember telling him. still, i dont like people noticing things about me. whatever, il think about it. therapy was later, she asked me how my week had been, i told her about the employee, she asked why it bothered me and i explained it, she nodded. Hahskjskldal, of course. of course she did they all nod, they all fucking nod. i guess its an important part of the profession. sit there, look concerned, nod slowly and eventually say something that sounds profound because you paused before saying it, she asked if i felt watched, i said no, she asked if i felt threatended i said no, she asked if i was angry, i said no she asked why i was answering so quickly, i told her because the questions were easy, she didnt like that. then she wrote something down, i assume she wrote down that im difficult. they all like that word, difficult. its easier than admitting they dont know what they’re doing. she then explained that i should try to “ sit with the uncertainty.” i almost laughed. this is her job, she gets paid to sit in a chair and tell other people to sit with their feelings. im sure theres a university degree for that. years of education so you can point at someones face and ask them how something made them feel. she thinks shes right about everything. thats mostly what i think its very impressive. she’ll ask a question, wait for me to answer and then explain why the answer actually means something else. let me give some examples. if i say im annoyed, im avoiding something, if i say im not annoyed, im suppressing something, if i disagree, im being defensive. very very, convenient system. shes never wrong, she simply changes the meaning of whatever you say until shes right again. i told her she seemed very confident in herself. she smiled, i wasnt complimenting her, she just didnt notice. thats probably why she chose this job, so people come in tell her something and she gets to pretend she understands every single one of them then she writes it down, very important work. dont know what we would do without these people right? she asked me if i thought i was better than her, i told her i didnt think about her enough for that to be a competition. she stared at me, and i smiled and she didnt, that was nice. ill keep going to therapy. not because i need her to tell me who i am, i already know. its just interesting watching someone so certain of herself be wrong so consistently. i have the time anyway, i go every day. as for the employee, I still dont know how he knew. and i dont like that. ill probably ask him again, but he’ll surrely give me the same stupid answer. maybe ill believe him or whatever, i wont.

im waiting to smoke tonight, i promised her i wouldnt. im keeping the promise, if i start again, i know ill probably make a much bigger mess of things than before. i know that. so i wont.

Sincerely, Difficult.

 
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from Kelly Kintner - Blog

Is there a way to make this LESS like a business?

One of the things I don’t like about the music business is the word business. Some folks get off on it. Wheeling, dealing, shaking hands, money flying around. I hate all that crap. However, I think people know that about me and use that knowledge to get what they want from me. So while I hate it, I try to practice at it. It is a skill like anything else, practice helps.

I am not here for you, sorry. That isn’t where I am at.

I just can’t count how many times I have been ripped off. From lousy jobs and ex-wives to slinging records and guitars, voting, to tuition… I can’t catch a break. I sometimes feel like my real purpose in life, looking from the outside in, is to be a battery for other humans. I have so much energy for projects, socially and creatively, I often run into folks who help me feel this way, powering them..not me. That is not a good feeling. And it happens a lot with folks who like “the music business.” What I am certain they’re after is “music benefits.”

I speak for myself. If you feel like I do, I got lucky.

What makes this difficult is I can’t speak for every musician. We are all in different places and we all hopefully like different things. You may not be sick and tired of older hoarder types who will not play a song with you without a prenuptial and lots of signatures. (I have been turned down for collaborations from artists who liked my songwriting but couldn’t do it because I didn’t have enough followers on Spotify.) They are wrong to be that way. You may not be tired of folks telling you how to run your creative life like a god damn spreadsheet when all you want to do is finger paint with friends, essentially. You may not be tired of the only folks in your life who want to talk to you (besides Keri) are the ones who want to give you advice or tell you what you are doing wrong. You might not be tired of listening parties and feigning excitement when you just want to play guitar and write words with buddies. Whatever the case, you might like Subvert.fm because it doesn’t really feel like “business.” That’s a perk from my spot. It feels like a club. That’s what I am looking for.

Do you see the herd?

Today is a Bandcamp Friday and it feels like a corral again. “Everybody go here.” I say, “no.” Simply give me a credit per quarter to use on any day I want that is significant to me or my fans. I do not want to make an email for fans the same day everyone else does. It’s bad enough we all feel we have to distribute the same. Having sales on the same day doesn’t benefit us. It benefits Bandcamp. Maybe it benefits who is getting their data. If you are doing what everyone does, you are following one person, typically. Did you know that? A sure-fire way to get lost in the crowd is to do everything the crowd does. Also, they have to have thought this. So who’s winning? It ain’t the musicians blowing up my inbox a few arbitrary Fridays a year.

That definition of insanity that really isn’t a definition of insanity.

I think there’s always better ways when I get really frustrated. I might have to learn things, make changes, or even buy something. But I don’t think it makes much sense to keep getting frustrated over and over. If that is your bag, this may not be for you.

Keep the AI on Bandcamp.

Subvert.fm is different so far. There’s moderation of content. Some may not like that. They do not allow AI art or music if they can detect it. I like it. I think it’s nice to have a distributor where the fleshies hang out. The aesthetic is different over there. It’s more like a craft mall than a vending machine in a break room. I love craft malls! I don’t care if our music is your break room. But I’d like the store you get it from to be more like a flea market, not like a chain box store. Bringing my wares to the co-op market is a better vibe for me than being a brand or owning a business. Subvert manages to do this by banning AI the best they’re able and actually being a co-op.

What is a co-op? Let’s ask google for something it can still do. Let’s grab a definition:

A co-op (short for cooperative) is a business, organization, or living arrangement owned, controlled, and operated for the mutual benefit of its members rather than outside investors. 

Common Meanings and Types of Co-ops

  • Business / Worker Co-op: A company owned and managed by its employees or customers (such as a credit union, agricultural group, or grocery store) where decisions are made democratically—usually on a "one member, one vote" basis.
  • Housing Co-op: A residential building or community where residents do not own their individual units directly; instead, they buy shares in a corporation that owns the property, granting them the right to live there and a vote in building management.
  • Education (Co-op Program): A college or high school program where students alternate between traditional academic semesters and full-time, paid professional work experience in their field of study.
  • Video Games: Short for cooperative gameplay, meaning a game mode where players work together as a team against computer-controlled opponents or challenges rather than competing against each other.

A bird in the hand..

Subvert.fm doesn’t do Bandcamp Fridays. It allows for ownership. It is built from the ground up with the musicians it serves in mind. I am not just a subvert music page, I am part owner. This is important to me. Every software developer, every site, every distribution platform, every business, it feels like, is not going to let me own anything, even if I have money. They rent it out. They make up days you’re supposed to be excited about that are every bit as meaningless as a national holiday, maybe less. They quit selling anything, for the most part. They want a subscription. This keeps costs up front low for the ‘comsumer’. Sounds like a good deal. But we can’t sell it when we don’t need it anymore. All the knowledge we learned just to use it doesn’t apply elsewhere. They get our monthly for life. What they’re after. And I am just talking about trying to give folks a song we made. Keri and I hope our song helps you in a tight spot someday. But we worry about you wanting us forever. We’re more of a “let’s hang out and play songs” type. There’s no “future” in that. It’s about right now.

Meanwhile, back at the craft mall.

I am writing this on a Bandcamp Friday after I have spent a few days uploading 9 or so releases of an album, EP, Singles on Subvert.fm. I made artwork without AI per their policy. A while back I deleted all of our album art when I learned more about AI and didn’t want to be a part of that. Now the process is photos, a friends’ art, I even bought one of them. I have also corrected them on Bandcamp as I do them. But on Bandcamp, the atmosphere is so different. If our song appears on a page of a bunch of Bandcamp releases from other artists, it’s obvious to us a lot of folks are using AI. With a subvert scan, we are back at the craft mall. I like that better.

Finding your brand is finding your belief.

Folks love their brand names. Finding a good brand is much like finding something to believe in. We all want that. But it doesn’t exist very often in reality. Big businesses suck. Subvert.fm could even suck. But as part owner, that would be partly my fault. So I am trying to help it along.

Ownership helps the owners. So why not make them everyone?

When folks are granted ownership or a sense of it in products or companies they use or like, they step up to the plate to keep it. They may even think of ways to help maintain it. By developing a community-owned platform, Subvert has my vote. For now. Things change, especially in software and distribution, I’ll try to keep you posted.

Kelly Kintner, Songwriter, Producer,

The Kintners, Djembe Funk (Subvert Links)

 
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from Nomina Numina

We may often hear the word self-care, a term I first started hearing during the pandemic. When I queried this term on a search engine, here’s part of the definition that was displayed:

Self-care is the process of taking deliberate actions to maintain and improve physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual well-being.  It is not merely about indulgence or luxury, but rather a necessary practice of honoring basic needs and taking responsibility for one's own health to prevent burnout and manage stress.

I no longer distinguish between mental, emotional, and spiritual well-being. For me, they are one and the same — interconnected, interdependent. In theory, I see their separation and distinction as helpful for gaining a deeper understanding through analysis. But in practice, I treat them as one contiguous part of who and what I am, where identity and experience co-create reality.

And, despite my openness here in my writings, I’m very cautious about what I share about my unusual experiences and with whom I share them. There’s no simple or universal way to calibrate this kind of sharing. I like to think of them as layers of trust and confidence, with each layer getting closer to the center, which contains the whole absolute truth.

First, there’s the outer layer, which is for the world at large, where no information is shared at all: strangers, co-workers, neighbors, acquaintances, etc.

Layer two is where hints and small details of something akin to the uncanny are shared, but at a distance and in very vague, general terms. This layer, along with each subsequent layer, involves sharing on a need-to-know basis.

Layer three goes deeper, where parts of specific events and their details are judiciously shared with those whom I hold in close confidence and who I know won’t use the knowledge against me or share it with others.

The final inner layer is the most secure and the one I share with no one because it is the full and complete truth, with every fact and facet of events, memories, theories, and speculations. This is the layer I think most people are quick to violate in their need or enthusiasm to share their experiences.

Know that I’m not against the sharing of these experiences, just that caution and care need to be exercised in doing so. Forethought is critical, as it allows time to process experiences internally and ask thoughtful, careful questions: How well do I understand what has happened to me? How much of it is safe to share with others? How might others, even those closest to me, interpret what I might share? How might my sharing of this information change how people see me and relate to me? Will the person I’m sharing my experiences with truly help me, or will they use that knowledge for their own gain in ways that could harm me and my reputation?

I think it’s important for people who have experienced the uncanny, especially if it is over a period of time or a lifetime, to not underestimate society’s shallowness and pretentiousness. People can pretend to show interest or care, but the pretense isn’t proof of their presence. And in an age where everything has become a financial transaction where every aspect of our lives has been reduced by commodification, I don’t think we can carelessly share what we have seen and experienced in liminality. To quote Goethe:

Tell a wise person, or else keep silent, because the mass man will mock it right away. I praise what is truly alive, what longs to be burned to death.

I see no difference between self-care and the caring of my experiences. I’m the sole custodian of what I’ve learned and experienced, and if I do not care and advocate for them responsibly, then no one will. This is especially true in the toxic cesspool of modern civilization, though I cannot really be sure that it was ever any different at any other time in human history. Perhaps it’s more intense and all-encompassing now than in the past.

So I tend to err on the side of caution when it comes to sharing my inner life, especially the anomalous. Preventative self-care means taking time to check in with myself, knowing what is normal and stable, and knowing what is unusual or unsafe and would require outside help. I certainly could not have integrated my profound and powerful inner experiences from earlier this year on my own. And when I sought help, I was very careful who I reached out to.

Not all therapists and clinicians are the same.

I took time to research profiles and writings of healthcare professionals. I did not assume they were all alike and would honor my testimony or my person the same way. When I found and settled on someone, I remained cautious about what I shared and when. Clinicians and therapists are human, too. Their ability to fully listen to understand my experiences is governed by a range of mechanisms, including their own experiences. I learned that the match would be imperfect, but that imperfection didn’t stand in the way of successful integration. The goal wasn’t to find a friend. The goal was to understand myself, others, and my world from inside a new reality into which I had unwillingly fallen.

For those experiencing or who have experienced the uncanny, above all, please take care. Exercising self-care is also part of the experience.

#Intermundia #Anomalology

By D. Bowman Nomina Numina is a journal of reflections, moments, and meaning-making of a life between worlds. Reply by email.

 
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from The Essayist's Notebook

I have been thinking again about pronouns. Not because the subject is new, but because it has accompanied much of my adult life as a writer.

It has long seemed to me that pronouns matter because they support assumptions, and assumptions often support prejudice. In writing, neutrality is difficult. One either accepts inherited patterns of expression, with all the assumptions they carry, or participates in the continuing challenge to them.

My own journey began in the latter half of the 1970s.

I grew up in a family with strong left leanings and surrounded by strong women. The lesson I absorbed was simple: different therefore equal. When, as a young man working for a UK government quango, I was invited to attend a residential course at Laurieston Hall near the Scottish border on sexism and male attitudes, I approached it with confidence. I already regarded myself as broadly committed to equality.

The experience was intense and unsettling in the best possible sense. I discovered that not every radical woman stood on the political left. Not everyone on the left fully understood or acknowledged the realities of inequality. Most importantly, I discovered that I was not free of assumptions myself. I too could display prejudice through habits of speech, thought and conduct that I had scarcely noticed.

That realisation has stayed with me.

Only a year or two before, in 1976, the title Ms had begun to gain official recognition within the UK's House of Commons. Forms of address were live topics. Language itself was becoming part of the discussion.

After Laurieston, I resolved to write s/he. It was never an elegant solution, but it seemed preferable to the supposedly universal he that dominated much published writing at the time. During my freelance years I often alternated she and he throughout a piece. Editors were rarely enthusiastic and many restored the familiar masculine form. Some, however, would tolerate an article that consistently used she.

Eventually I migrated to they. For two or three decades that seemed a satisfactory answer. It allowed me to refer to a person occupying a role without implying that the role naturally belonged to a man or a woman. One also made occasional appearances, though its formality sometimes sat uneasily with my preference for a more conversational style.

But language does not stand still.

Over the past two decades, they has acquired an additional significance through its adoption by many people who prefer it as their personal pronoun. What began in particular communities has become increasingly visible throughout society. As a result, I find myself reflecting once again on my own use of language.

I briefly returned to s/he, but found it awkward. It interrupts both reading and writing. The solution I am currently considering is simpler: to alternate she, he and they within a piece, allowing each to stand naturally and unapologetically.

The intention is not linguistic innovation for its own sake. Nor is it a claim that I have found the perfect answer. It is merely a small reminder to myself and perhaps to my readers that any role, occupation, responsibility or task may be undertaken by a person of any gender.

If, in one sentence, she must undertake the task, in the next perhaps he must undertake it, and in the next they must undertake it.

The point is not the pronoun.

The point is the assumption that lies behind it.

Addendum

To Write Around The Pronoun

I began by asking which pronoun should I use? I end by asking what assumption made me think I needed to make that choice?

I'm realizing that is much more interesting than a style-guide answer.

And it gives me back to a technique I have always used, and a possible fourth position beyond s/he, alternating pronouns and singular they: sometimes the elegant solution is to write around the pronoun altogether.

There is a nice essayistic irony in that. My original ethical intervention was to make the hidden assumption visible. The more successful contemporary solution may be to make the assumption disappear without having to announce that it has disappeared.

That, I think is a genuinely elegant development of the problem I have been carrying since Laurieston.

And I rather like that the note remains unresolved. I will not rush to decide that alternating she, he and they is the answer. It may be more interesting if the notebook records the experiment; because the experiment itself is part of the history of my thinking about language.

rvw.ie t-line signature panel David Marshall Skerries

 
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from hypocritepoet

elemental

A cloud Lifted and then burned away By the sun

A seashore Eroded and washed By the tide

A river Carved and recarved By the mighty flow

A heart Forged and shaped By the heat of love

We become what The forces of Nature make us

This begs the question: What then, Shapes our faith?

#poetry #museum #orbit #gravity

2024-10-19 16:31:29

 
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