Have you ever jumped into cold water on a hot day? Have you ever ridden an asteroid across the surface of the sun? Have you ever done a backflip off the moon and landed in a bucket of water in Vatican City? If so, then you’ve experienced one-tenth of what I experienced the moment I took that pill.
My headache disappeared, my heart started pumping, adrenaline and pure energy flowed through my veins instead of blood. My fingers twitched and my mind moved at three times the speed of light.
I fell back on my chair, flew towards my desk and danced my fingers like I was playing the keyboard. Chapters fell before me like grass in front of a chainsaw.
I cranked out TEN chapters in three hours. And that’s not just writing them either that’s editing them multiple times, adding extra hyperboles, and making the first 31 sentences and the title into acrostic poems that read: Alex has shit ties.
It was heavenly.
After dusting off my 11th chapter I stood, did a couple of yoga poses and then took off out of my front door for a run.
Now, everyone has a weakness, Superman’s got his kryptonite, Achilles has his heel, I have physical exercise. Usually, the thought of going for a run would make me want to chop my legs off. But those crazy little pills made the sad-sad go away. I was flying past houses, high-fiving bushes and waving to people as I roamed the streets like an exercise junkie.
My god-like strides took me through the suburbs of The Village through to the centre of town where Sherlock-Holmes themed coffee shops and Wuxia-themed teahouses dominated the streets. Writers sat in booths talking and hacking away at tablets and laptops, while cover artists drew mythical figures in between shots of espresso.
There was a hard-working bustle about the place. Little box-like robots wheeled their way out from a boutique distribution centre to people’s homes carrying boxes of wine, cheese, and steaming meals.
I slowed my run and sat back on a bench beside a rose bush. Birds were chirping and there was a hum of music from the cafes. It was heaven.
That night Manuel was back at my house and we walked three blocks over to a giant log cabin and another party. The next morning I took a pill, busted out eight chapters and went for another run. As the weeks flew by I attended more parties than I’d ever been to in my life, smashed out over a hundred chapters and grew dark rings around my eyes.
And then one day I met her.
****
This time we’d been invited to a pool party in the early evening. Manuel was sucking up to a bunch of new authors, and I was drinking beer with a bunch of horror writers while watching two guys beside the pool punching each other in the face over the use of Oxford commas. I didn’t know who was in the right – the guy whose eye was bruised, red, and puffy – or the guy with a swollen, red lump on his forehead.
Turns out, it didn’t really matter because they both paused mid-swing to stare at someone behind me.
In walked a woman in a white turtleneck, and large round glasses. Four other writers dressed in full tweed suits flanked her. Heads turned. Famous web fiction writers who I hadn’t worked up the courage to talk to were whispering to each other and pointing to the woman in white.
The horror writers next to me were trying to look disinterested but I could see them peering at her out of the corner of their eyes.
‘Hey Stephen,’ I poked a tall guy in the arm, ‘who’s that?’
Stephen laughed, ‘Good one man.’
‘I’m being serious dude, why’s everyone staring?’
Stephen hissed his next sentence like he was embarrassed others would hear, ‘Man. That’s the emperor of this place – the most read author in the whole of Crusher Media, that’s...’
‘...Lazy Cultivator? The guy that writes the chicken story.’
Stephen nodded, ‘Only – she’s not a guy.’
‘I guess I should say hi,’ I got out of my seat just as Stephen put his arm up to form a barrier.
‘Dude!’ He said, 'You, me, all of us,’ he gestured around the circle of horror writers, ‘We’re dirt.’ A couple of the guys clinked their beers and took a swig. Stephen pressed a finger into my chest, ‘We don’t talk to people like her. We don’t even look at her. This place has a hierarchy and man, you are the mud that hierarchy sits on.
I swallowed, ‘Good to know I’m appreciated then.’
Stephen shrugged, ‘Just letting you know the way things are dude.’
The tweed-wearers and their leader moved through the party like blue whales through a school of shrimp. A group of romance writers cleared out of their chairs beside the pool and the gang sat down and produced bottles of champagne from a wine cooler. The woman in white pulled a pair of VR glasses, a wireless keyboard, and a purple pill bottle from her bag, then she slipped a pill between her teeth, pulled the VR glasses over her face and started hacking away at the keyboard so rapidly she broke off one of the keys.
I swallowed, ‘She doesn’t come to parties often?’
Stephen shook his head, ‘not the sort of parties the rest of us get invited to. But... I’ve heard stories.’
I nodded slowly, my forehead was beginning to hurt the way it always did when the orange pills wore off. I took the orange pill container out of my pocket and shook it. There was no comforting tap of pills on the side.
I spun the lid open. It was empty.
My hands started to sweat. I got up, knocking over Stephen’s beer. He yelled at me, but I just waved an apology. I made a beeline straight for Manuel who was chatting to a bunch of fresh writers.
‘Hey, Eli,’ he said, wrapping an arm around me, ‘You guys heard of ElitheHill?’
A couple of the new writers grinned, one guy stuck out his hand, but my headache was getting worse with every second.
‘Manuel,’ I hissed, ‘I need some pills man.’
Manuel raised an eyebrow, ‘What?’
‘I need them now, my head...’ I stopped and rubbed one of my eyes, ‘I need the orange pills man.’
Manuel nodded, ‘Yeah, I’ll get you some man – in the morning.’ he wrapped his arm around me, ‘Come on man, be cool, have a beer.’
I shook my head frantically, my hands trembled, ‘I need them now Manuel. Come on. You’ve got to have at least a pack on you.’
Manuel stared at me, his eyes suddenly seemed much colder, ‘Yeah. I got some, but they’re two thousand reads.’
‘Two thousand?’ I bit my lip, ‘Man, they were five hundred two days ago.’
He shrugged and pulled the orange container from his pocket ‘You want em? Or not?’
My hands were a pool of sweat, my head thumped like a drum and bass concert and my right eye was twitching.
‘Yeah,’ I snatched them from his hand, ‘I’ll get Alex to transfer to you tomorrow.’
Manuel nodded, ‘Now get lost,’ his smile returned as he looked to the young writers, ‘You’re scaring off the new kids!’
The others laughed.
I fumbled with the pill bottle and Manuel gave me a kick, ‘Man! Get out of here.’ His eyes were hard again.
I stumbled my way over to the toilet, kicked the door open and slammed it behind me. My hands shook as I twisted open the capsule. The toilet smelt like vomit. The lid gave a click, popped open and I shook two pills into my hand. I usually took one, but I felt like I deserved the extra hit after everything I’d been through. I shoved them in my mouth, threw my head back, and swallowed.
A moment later I had electricity flowing through my veins and lightning in my brain. When I kicked the door of the toilet open it was like the world was in 8k resolution. Colours and lights were sharper and more beautiful. Beethoven’s fifth symphony was playing, someone passed me who smelt of elderflower and sweet wine. I breathed in and started dancing.
****
My call with Alex the next day began with me reciting a poem about his ties that I made up on the spot. He was wearing a beetroot red tie and by the third verse, his face had gone the same colour. It took him a few minutes to calm down, but when he finally did he ended up being quite pleased.
‘I see you’ve been producing a lot of chapters Mr Hill, you’re also pulling in a lot of readers. My suggestion is that you should start stockpiling them, rather than just posting them as you finish, that way when you hit another of your dry spells, you’ll have a buffer to get your shit sorted.’
I grinned and pulled the orange pills from my jacket pocket, ‘I’m not going to have another slump.’ I tossed the pill bottle up and caught it behind my back without looking, ‘Alex, I have discovered the key to literary immortality.’
Alex’s smile wavered for a moment, then with an effort of brute force he manage to affix it back to his face.
‘I’m glad Mr Hill.’ he went silent for a moment, ‘Just be careful okay... with those chapters I mean... we don’t want you to get burnt out with nothing left in the can.’
I shrugged, shook the pill bottle again, ‘Don’t worry about me buddy – just keep transferring Manuel that money. Okay?’
Alex nodded and ended the call.

Previous post

A renowned talent

Object of his lust, more often than not, was to be found in the Nemil beauty sitting languidly upon the other side of the fire (and if temptation burns where else would she be?). Purse Snippet was a dancer and orator famous across the breadth of Seven Cities. Need it be even said that such a combination of talents was sure to launch spurting enthusiasm among the heavy-breathing multitudes known to inhabit cities, towns, villages, hamlets, huts, caves and closets the world over?

Last week ended with a description of Calap Roud's creepy and very unsubtle lusting after women. And here we get one which seems to attract his attention more than anyone else in this company. It's a very smooth transition. It is also worth noting that she is the "object" of Calap Roud's lust, a very literal instance of objectification. Of course Calap Roud wouldn't be interested in her for her personality because he isn't interested in anyone's personality but his own.
Purse Snippet is Nemil, which is in the Seven Cities. This, along with her being famous specifically in the Seven Cities, supports the notion that we are indeed located somewhere on that continent. Her name is certainly interesting, but I think it's better to wait until the second part of her introduction to discuss it.
She sits languidly, which indicates that she is not overly worried about their state of affairs. And she sits on the other side of the fire to Calap Roud, which I don't think is a coincidence. She wants nothing to do with him. It also indicates that she is the opposite of Calap. Remember, we're still not done with the circle/soul metaphor. That she sits opposite Calap also means that he sees her through the flame, as Flicker points out, as he makes her into a personification of temptation. To Calap it's as if she's within the flames, burning bright.
After that long(ish) and meandering sentence we now get a very simple sentence, stating in plain language who she is. She's a dancer and orator, and she's famous in the Seven Cities. Again, this is Flicker changing his language to me much more easily parsed when he is giving us simple facts.
And then he switches right back to the more ornate style as he describes the effects of those simple facts. This is of course Flicker engaging in his trademark hyperbole, while simultaneously establishing her as a sex symbol. Everyone in the world¹ knows her.
The "spurting enthusiasm" is yet another very thinly veiled euphemism, this time for ejaculation. That the multitudes are "heavy-breathing" also supports that. I also love this tally of all the places where such multitudes are found, starting with cities, then getting progressively smaller until we're at a single closet. I also think it's very funny that near the end we're also getting more primitive, with hamlets, then huts, then caves, before going back into something much more advanced, which is a closet.

A singular beauty

Lithe was her smile, warm her midnight hair, supple of tongue her every curvaceous utterance, Purse Snippet was desired by a thousand governors and ten thousand nobles. She had been offered palaces, islands in artificial lakes, entire cities. She had been offered a hundred slaves each trained in the arts of love, to serve her pleasure until age and jealous gods took pleasure away. Lavished with jewels enough to adorn a hundred selfish queens in their dark tombs. Sculptors struggled to render her likeness in marble and bronze, and then committed suicide. Poets fell so far inside their poems of adoration and worship they forgot to eat and died at their garrets. Great warleaders tripped and impaled themselves on their own swords in pursuit of her. Priests foreswore drink and children. Married men surrendered all caution in their secret escapades. Married women delighted in exposing and then murdering their husbands with ridicule and savage exposes.

We've had a few instances up until now where Flicker uses a deliberately wrong word when describing something. Here he turns it up to 11. "Lithe was her smile". A smile can't be lithe, but Purse is, and her smile reflects that. "Warm her midnight hair". While hair can be warm, it's certainly a strange way to describe someone's hair. We do learn that her hair is dark, but here I think the word "warm" actually applies to the aforementioned smile. I think Flicker is more affected by her charms than he'd care to admit, hence him getting his words all jumbled up.
"Supple of tongue". Again an unusual word choice, but you can read this as her being a skilled speaker, and particularly adept at playing to the whims of her audience. He's clearly talking about more than just her tongue, but I think there is a double meaning at play here. And "curvaceous utterance" is the most overt one, just to nail home which organ Flicker is thinking with.
Then we are bombarded with description after description of all the powerful people attempting to claim her and artists trying to merely depict her. I think this is similar to what he did with the Chanter brothers, where he invented this absurdly over the top backstory for them to emphasize how bestial they were. Here he is doing the same but to show how beautiful Purse Snippet is.
For one, I doubt there are a thousand governors in all of Seven Cities. I'm sure there are at least ten thousand nobles, but that would surely be most of them. Then we get the listing of offerings that get increasingly absurd, mirroring the list in the previous paragraph with the progressively smaller habitations. It culminates in her being offered a hundred pleasure slaves to serve her for the rest of her life. And notice that even the gods are jealous of her.
And then, finally, she is given jewelry fit for a hundred queens. And notice that these queens are placed in dark tombs. This, along with the preceding comment about her aging serve as a reminder of the transience of beauty. Flicker knows this, and presumably Purse does as well.
Notice also how this has all been in the passive voice. I haven't talked a lot about voice up until this point (and perhaps I should have), but the use of the passive voice here seems very deliberate. She is not asking for this, it's all imposed on her. But when we start discussing the poor artists trying to capture her beauty, we switch to the active voice, but we also switch our point of view to said artists, meaning we're still not placing her in an active role. She is simply an object, which is how Flicker first introduced her. I'm looking forward to examining Flicker's/Erikson's treatment of Purse Snippet.
But let's back up a little bit and talk about those artists. We are led to believe that her beauty is so singular that sculptors can't capture it and kill themselves because of their failure. The poets don't seem to fail, but they get so absorbed in their poetry that they die of starvation. I love that they die at their garrets², but not in their garrets. They don't just happen to be there, it's more like they're posted there. It's not that the poets live there, it's that they have to be there when composing poetry.
Then you have great warleaders tripping (the last thing you would expect of a warleader) and die in the process, because of course they fall on their swords. The priests certainly catch some heat there, as they are noted to "swear off alcohol" which they should not be doing in the first place "and children", because of course. We know that Erikson is no fan of organized religion and it seems that neither is Flicker.
Finally we get a mentioned of married men, who abandon all caution when pursuing Purse, and their wives who surprisingly don't seem upset, but rather seem to be enjoying a chance to publicly scorn and ridicule their husbands. Perhaps because of how optimistic their men were, to think that they would have a chance with Purse. I want to note that I don't think they are actually murdering their husbands. It seems to be purely verbal.
That was something, but we're not done yet with our Purse Snippet. Next time we'll be finishing up her introduction. See you next week!
¹ Notice how he uses "the world" here instead of just "the Seven Cities"? This implies that her world is just the Seven Cities, even further supporting the theory that we are there.
² In this instance probably referring to a room in an attic
Next post

I'd like to say hello and welcome you good day that is my name come here sit down I'm so glad even really truly came we can go take a walk or something but first i need introduce what when let us sing its call it likes it's nothing lives breathes insists never liked speak run sleep eat thought everybody tried seat looking through glass eyes give few tries goes right in time kill all bad dreams wonder 'bout no things circles spirals mind know this song not about yes why what's little sigh along think done we're thinks ton knew by wanted birds bees television cardboard houses X-ray vision many silly rhymes forgotten lost their telephones games periods lots of question marks here's part again where everything's more than should be greener seems fall beneath your feet seconds tick boulders whenever don't does seem are wherever for together depending on the weather we'll either argue house outside how different felt before got notch belt 'cause plans were me yeah now you'd just rather leave 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municipal don’t stories triumphs glories jam blind you’ve places died grinding gears tides chief Pontiac stamped mark mystery flat dominoes attuned creeping repose hid Zion ablaze woes bureaucracy throes trials pairings psyche victory airings sponsored Nike potato-faced comrade ascends vultures encircle amends ages ribbon wore dutiful pose wink prick thorn beautiful aghast dusk savage horsemen musk mother's fat Ghostbusters Puft trust ate man's clarify bouncing bottle Adderall also mentioned twenty-nine exact wack object subject dribbled bombs window wiper airing throws drunken sniper i'm'a zeppelin piper mom tinder swipe 'cuz spherical meaningful queer clerical leather planet gravity ooh moves smooth adroit world's Detroit pity pal fails score swish buzzer curvy's fact NBA's rad basketballs gastric bands Oedipus Rex Electra Pegasus wings foot springs surf's board wave yo' 'boks pump chump sup palm shoot infinity across pass lest tripping guessing slam dunk foul ref gee gotta confide actress picked dang-blasted casting winners chickens plates dinners contain innards bouncy rainbow despair somewhen someway wizard cloak 'walk woods make' pope cruising cloudy witches smelling grass flash fast it’s waterproof hood honestly incredibly convenient behold crone lackadaisical wandering stressed quest gnome bridge trolls gnomes rests astray can’t afford delay pains owe searched quests looked low… however Alex vex variety pressure crones sicker gully micks rolls hats tenacity ambivalent queen’s rhapsody basilisk boss plague scourge special crossroad trolling dope clo' goods wizards apt what’s test angst legit i'th destiny heroes whom homer spoke posers adventure brand joke thrown Joseph Joey-Joe hm yearning journey bigger paths trinity leaking body fluids hurts stealth neighborhoods skirts robin's hundred acre redwood taller tower half paneled power branch pulls tunnel arms brace secret room strike duck alarms shall crescendo k Nintendo ambling van lived banjo rod Duncan savvy business instrument relevant string opted wing traveled actually spaceship hailed Appalachians transcended global nations yeehaw flew Jupiter rife intelligent managed locate unicorn magically eventually helped spacey whirls strung purty talking hair gleaned legend reasoned adopted named Cloister guarantee gleeful galaxy phoned pappy history we’ve lambasted lions crimes rounding precisely fractals surreal ends columned Moses wouldn’t steer starboard port duh range expression infinitesimal strangers narwhal's refrain repeat apology Tilly goal saved conjuring callow philosopher Socrates Stromboli puppetry cigar hemlock Bartholomew señor Freud guitars causing effects masterpiece expansion repression grace' summoned anyone companied omniverse c governed commonwealth unseen pirates denial plundered file misbegotten burn Rosencrantz Guildenstern knowledge flex muscle hour Christopher Columbus killed exactly thrilled una ciudad submarina loco comprendo es cierto necesito explicar cosa interesante three melange mirages appeared nowhere fully tantamount yacht steered ship Allah passengers shouted holler shalom voila haha Mediterranean protects Atlantises projected praying mantises holes wealth clues upon scuba divers' views choose weakened weekend booze bamboo shack Goombay punch moreso encourages lunch hast marine iguanas Bahamas Galapagos Darwin acquiesced priori Bermuda Fm's immortal crustacean combustible thrust killer eels resort hotels eclectic deals resisting Neptune's appeals quoth shark coral reef sits chest skeleton grant access orichalcum certain edible thick domes late quesadillas resultan en pesadillas fantasticos bead super-metal dip submarine motorbike vacuum train peligroso volar interiores helicoptóres native lucayans explained displacing ions anointing vampires dandelions teas brewed stirring yeezus bewitching Jesus suggesting Beatles platinums coronation measuring nation burdened Vinci's cartwheels ambidextrous MJ bey dangerous Elvira spells hex appeal Madonna risk waxing pedantic declared taxing romantic junglas spilling milkshakes kneeled prayer lipstick hallelujah aquamarine flanked RMS philistine nickel bronze copper zinc graphene gasoline Atlantic gyre rumors trickled wire dolphins fateful April 1912 papa smurf surveyed turf raging surf wars bores opposed shores blinded navigating constellations numerous uhh wrist ceased tingling demands drink bar writing giants telling saxophone solo silkiness sheets AstroTurf cleats tricentennial hopes bath carafe chaff bottom commotion fuels human race faces thrill escapeless relax sack mkay hay rem synchronize free-diving iceberg guise jack bop buhbed Renee breezy rides romanticize sighs phantasize rhyming eenie meenie dirty cleany joey elusive fish difference eeenie minus neighbros hug smite pajama scan boogeyman sandman awimoweh bugs bite wop luau synesthetic candy drops yawn everlasting flavor gobs colorforms abridge textbook'd molten meaningness norms lieu pill larger small gives 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ungrapesable rotten impeachable push forward mmhm melt buh ba searching witnessed smiling daylight simple fools gather embrace entrust loved sick visions illusions connection dreamers wished believed amazing stargazing someday voices sailors ignore supposed di ohhh generally modest eaten delicious wishes biggest fishes abject hackneyed reference abstain agree aside struggle deal practicing weekends expense imagining yield rewards repeating hip-hop doowop chords one-of-a-kind runnin' impress bars ignorance blissful abysmal snap holds crystal ticked slept fs record evident mental Aaron Neville sings devil piecing confidence common sense'll recipe industry faker pro wrestling 'makes talent specialty fret shelf epic expanse round-robin championship ids unique simulator engineer stimulate vibrating swirling vortex Johnnying depths girling cortex velveteen flair icicled larynx slid tongue teased hadn’t handling waist overcomers alternative heads expecting former grati’ication hanging ninesome buskers splayed 3rd promenade styles attributing bunnies fours reverse threw grandfather crossed disbarred generations squalormander’d japan towns stoning henges ‘atian formed phase bending forwards earning leisure interest childlike empress tsunami tah

I wanted to start a little series of mini-spotlights, covering various soloist ladies I find incredible. A lot of these are on the indie side of things, where the info isn't as readily available - so I thought it might be good to cover 5 in one go, to make each post feel a little more substantial. This is less of a deep dive than my previous spotlight posts, and more of just an appreciation for artists who don't get as much of the .. spotlight.
So yeah, expect a series of these I suppose. There's just so many wonderful artists out there. I'll probably do one for the guys as well, but right now my playlist is dominated by women. So leave that for later! A quick disclaimer: I'm by no means an expert on any of these artists. If you happen to be, and see something that's plain wrong, please call me out on it, and I'll be sure to edit it. Also, these are very opinionated posts, so take my incessant hyperbole with a pinch of salt! If you want.. Or board the hype train. That's up to you!
Anyway. Let's get to it! If you're in the mood to discover some new music, read on.

1: Woo Yerin

Woo Ye-rin (우예린)
Born: October 3, 1995
SNS: Instagram Youtube
Starting with one of my more recent discoveries. Woo Yerin's a singer-songwriter under Ruby Records. She started her career pursuing idol life in the show K-Pop Star 5, back in 2015, which didn't go her way in the end. And she ended up taking the indie soloist route. And that in turn, gave us some pretty damn great music!
I'd say she dabbles in a bit of everything, but particularly excels in whimsical, sweeping symphonic songs - with added band instrumentals. Think GFRIEND's Rough, with a bit more levity to it. Interestingly for someone who operates in such big, layered songs, she's not much of a high note belting power vocal - but she always finds really cool alternatives to give her crescendos that added punch. So it's sorta refreshing in a way. That's not a slight on her vocals though. She can hold her own, and has such a gorgeous unique quality to it. Just that it maybe leans more towards the light, sweet and crystal clear.
She's also done great work in more theatrical somber genres, fun upbeat tunes, light funky jazz, folky songs and your average ol' ballady tracks. A lot of different, beautiful, emotional, sad, fun and uplifting vibes, all executed so well. She's mostly released digital singles so far, so her catalogue isn't massive, but there's little to no filler at least. Last year she released a whopping 4 singles though, so it feels like she's ramping up for another album.
She also plays guitar and piano, and composes and write the majority of her own work, with some helpding hands on the arrangement side. So clearly a multi talent! They're very impressive compositions as well. Intricate and balanced with great layering and tons of variety. So far she's got one EP, a ton of singles, and a handful of collabs under her belt. She's mostly flown under the radar, but had some limited success with a collab track with Ahn Ye Eun (also from K-Pop Star 5), Burn Like A Star. Not one of my favorite tracks by her by any means, but should be mentioned. She also has a personal Youtube channel where she uploads covers occasionally. Especially Christmas songs!
Song Recs:

• Tokki
• Red Rose
• Night Flower
• Let It Go! (Daisy)
• An Undelivered Letter
• Girl
• Fishbowl
• Lavender (ft. LILL)
• Paradise
• Flame
• When The Violet Blooms

Although I'd suggest just deep diving her whole discography. If you're at all into orchestral pop, or more moody soundscapes - are into artists like GFRIEND, Lena Park or KyoungSeo - definitively give her a listen. I'm sure you'll find something in her discography to love. Can't wait to see what she's got for us this year.

2: MINSEO

Kim Min-seo (김민서)
Born: April 9, 1996
SNS: Instagram Official Instagram Youtube
Over to someone who's a bit more known. You see her name mentioned on reddit every now and then at least. MINSEO was an idol trainee who quit and veered down the indie soloist route instead. She would most likely have been a GFRIEND member if she followed through on her idol plans and debuted. But she ended up leaving the company, setting her another path entirely. Apparently she is still close to at least some of the girls though. And after the fact, she would go on to cover GFRIEND's Rough on her stint on King Of Masked Singer. Maybe for the best. I'm not sure I could handle the Yuju + MINSEO one, two vocal punch. Whew!
To me, she's always been one of the big overlooked vocal talents in kpop. Already early on she had this maturity and confidence to her vocals. Very technical and skillful vocalist too. And she's no slouch in the discography department either, having been pretty experimental with her releases over the years, while keeping the quality up. Her stuff covers orchestral, showtunes and jazzy stuff, ballads as well as more standard fare kpop. Her career path has been sorta reminiscent of IU's to me. Besides the massive, cosmic gap in popularity obviously.
With 3 EP's, and a ton of singles and OSTs, there's a lot to pick from. In addition to the recs below, I think her EP The Diary Of Youth is just spectacular. It's been a couple of years since her last EP now, so maybe we've got another coming this year? Fingers crossed.
Song Recs:

• Is Who? (Folky, showtuney, jazzy)
• The Grand Dreams
• 2cm (ft. Paul Kim) (Loungy, coffee shop vibes)
• Zero
• Crystal Castle (The Empire Of Law OST)
• Growing Up
• Goodbye To Romance (orig. Sunny Hill)
• Star (Gorgeous ballad)

Also a terrific live singer. Her episode of 'I'm Live' on Airang TV is well worth a watch if you have 25 minutes to spare. Her performance of Yes on Dingo Live is also a favorite. If you're into IU, GFRIEND or BOL4, I think MINSEO would scratch some of those particular itches as well.

3: msftz

Lee Shin-ae (이신애)
Born: December 24, 1997
SNS: Instagram Youtube
Again over to a lesser known artist. msftz (misfits) is a singer-songwriter under Sony Music Korea. I feel like she's been around since forever, but she only debuted back in 2020. To be fair, she's been actively releasing music since 2017, but just by herself onto soundcloud. So there's actually quite a few soundcloud exclusive tracks. Or there were. Her old soundcloud account seems to be deactivated atm sadly. But hopefully they'll pop up again. You might be able to find them with some searching still though.
She feels like such a staple in the soloist scene to me, and her stuff has such a strong and distinct identity. She'll do a lot of loungy, funky and even rocky stuff, usually with sorta quirky yet kinda dark lyrics - but also more abstract, spacy stuff with gorgeous dreamy soundscapes. And yeah, she writes her own stuff, if that's something that makes your ears perk up. Plays piano and guitar as well. She's a fantastic, very overlooked songwriter with a clear voice. Her vocals are really distinct as well. There's a bit of a jazz singer vibe there. Sorta smokey and smooth. But with maybe a slight nasality to it? However you explain it, she has such a unique sound.
She's mostly released singles (6) but also did an EP back in 2021 that's a really great listening experience. She also posts some covers on her youtube, and always puts her unique twist on them. To mention a few Butter (BTS), Last Night On Earth (Green Day) and Story Of My Life (One Direction).
Song Recs:

• Heart
• Takeoff (light indie rock)
• 2080 (cosmic, dreamy)
• Oh My Way
• Special
• Fantasy

Being a lesser known artists, there's not a ton of easily accessible content it feels like. But there's a lot of stuff where she performs live with her band - like these 2080 and Fantasy ones. She might not be a vocal monster, but I think she's quite pleasant live as well. If you like stuff like Heize, Stella Jang or KyoungSeo, I think msftz might hit. Hope you check her out! It's been a while since her last release, so hopefully we won't have to wait too long for some news of new music!

4: Shin Ji Hoon

Shin Ji-hoon (신지훈)
Born: June 23, 1998
SNS: Instagram Youtube Soundcloud
I mentioned good listening experiences above, which is a good segue into Shin Ji Hoon. Her album 'Stars And Memories And Poetry' is easily the best listening experience I've had in my kpop journey. That album is such a ride. And the fact that it's mostly self written, composed and even produced is beyond impressive. The album feels a lot like a full musical with different acts, and visits a lot of different tempos, moods and various instruments. From electric guitar to harmonica and choral vocals, to acoustic sections.
Shin Ji Hoon started out as a (pretty accomplished) figure skater, but turned to music - debuting as a soloist back in 2017. She was initially with Cube Entertainment and Starline Entertainment, but would eventually go on to form her own company for her music. So here you'll get peak autonomy. Her vocals are definitively a bit on the lighter side, but she's got an absolutely gorgeous voice. She is also such an incredible songwriter and producer who I wish had more eyes (ears?) on her. I think I would describe most of her music as 'on the lighter side' as well, with soft airy vocals, gorgeous melodies, sweeping string sections and the most satisfying chord resolutions you can imagine. You won’t find much dance friendly stuff here. She knows her ‘niche’, but executes it better than pretty much anyone else I’ve come across. She's basically a storyteller who sings.
Popularity-wise it's hard to know where to place her. One the one hand, I can count on my fingers how many times I've seen her name mentioned on reddit in my years here. Her Spotify numbers aren't exactly impressive either. But she's got a good following of over 200k subscribers on her youtube channel, and there's definite resources poured into her stuff, so she must have at least a decent following over in korea. Her youtube channel also features a ton of covers of various artists. Well worth a look.
Here's a couple of songs I particularly love from her. But if you find you like her vibe, I implore you to go listen to her full albums in order, because that is hand-crafted journeys that elevate the music even further.
Song Recs:

• A Story That Will Turn Into A Poem
• Falling In Love Is Like The Spring Rain, Parting Is Like The Winter Rain
• You Are A Star Already
• A Fairy Tale (Love the marching section)
• When The Magnolia Blooms
• Memories Soon To Be A Chapter Of An Anthology
• A Sky Full Of Stars
• Fly Far Away, Avobe The Clouds

Again, another solid live singer. And she'll whip out the guitar too. I don't have as many clips to share, but check out her stage of A Fairy Tale. She'll also upload the odd cover to her youtube channel. If you're into slower, moving indie type music, this should be up your alley. Sweden Laundry, Vanilla Acoustic, BOL4 and Davichi come to mind, but Shin Ji Hoon is something it's hard to draw comparisons to. She creates such beautiful, moving art, and I hope you give her music a chance.

5: Shin Eui Jin

Shin Eui Jin (신의진)
Born: July 2, 1999
SNS: Youtube Instagram
One good Shin deserves another(?). So we'll finish off with another new discovery of mine. And the most obscure artist on this list. One that I don't have as much to say about, as she's a more recent debut. Shin Eui Jin is a soloist under BK Entertainment. She debuted at the tail-end of 2021 with the beautiful ballad Broom. A lot safer than her subsequent releases, it should be said. But towards the finale there, she a certain style shines through, that she'd go on to explore more of. Her discography is really small. But she's doing very promising work so far, and is scratching a niche that doesn't get much attention these days. The more rock influenced, orchestral string heavy fusion stuff. Early Dreamcatcher meets early GFRIEND in a way maybe? No horror theme here though. Fun, driving rocky tunes with as many strings as you can handle. And a vocal tone that goes hand in hand with that sound.
She's also dipped her toes into music survival shows, with the most recent being Artistock Game in 2022, but it sadly didn't go her way. She doesn't appear to compose her own stuff, and the composers so far have been all different. But the style has been consistent, so it's seemingly something she wishes to pursue further, luckily!
With just four digital singles so far, I'm just linking the rest of them. Again though, all of these are from last year, so she's ramping it up. We'll just have to wait and see!

• You're My Star
• Night, Summer
• Hello!

So if you're at all into the rockier stuff from Dreamcatcher, I think there's a chance you'll like her stuff. Although it is quite a bit lighter and more upbeat. So be 'warned'. Anyway, she's a breath of fresh air to me in the current landscape, and I hope she'll continue to dabble in this style, if not dive even deeper into the rocky themes. Excited to see what 2024 brings for her.
And that's it for now! Five wonderful soloists who don't get enough attention for their amazing contributions! Please be sure to let me know if you found some music you liked. Or if you happen to know and love one of the artists covered, please chime in and gush some extra, and maybe give your own recommendations. And stay tuned for five more down the line!
Lastly, a little call to action. I would love it if the spotlight feature became a staple on the kpop subreddit again. If you've ever thought about writing a spotlight for an artist you really like, I hope you give it a go. I can assure you the mod team very helpful if you have any questions or worries about it. It doesn't have to perfect (example: this very post!), but it's just nice to see people extensively gushing about artists they like! You can see earlier spotlights on the wiki section of the sub.
Other (producer) spotlights: MIO OREO Iggy Yongbae Noh Ju Hwan

Disclaimer: I do not speak Korean. This is purely translated by machine with a lot of cleanup afterward. With that in mind, I am open to criticism to improve these translations. Enjoy!
​
Chapter 333
​
"Please wait a moment, Master Ship Lighter Mu-Song."
​
I felt compelled to offer a standing ovation to the speaker of those words.
​
The boldness required to articulate such a statement amidst such palpable tension was noteworthy.
​
Particularly when the person addressed had just transformed over fifty pirates into fish bait within five minutes.
​
But who dared to speak?
​
'It’s evident from the use of "Master" that they're not one of us.'
​
Mu-Song was known to his crew as 'Captain' or 'Fortress Master', ruling them out. None in our group, myself included, had spoken up either.
​
That left only one possibility...
​
'The passengers who were attacked by the pirates.'
​
It became obvious to all present.
​
Both my group and the Water Dragon Fortress pirates simultaneously looked in the same direction - towards the twenty passengers who had boarded the fast ship following Hwang Tae-Gu's raid.
​
"Who is it? Come forward."
​
At Mu-Song's stern command, his men quickly made way. A single figure stood at the end of the clearing.
​
"Hello, young man."
​
Though the voice hinted at youth, his appearance was surprisingly boyish.
​
'He couldn’t be older than twenty.'
​
The term 'boy' seemed more fitting than 'young man'. He appeared unnerved by the attention, hesitantly joining his hands in an awkward gesture.
​
"Hello. My name is Mun-Kyung."
​
"Mun-Kyung?"
​
Mu-Song echoed, his brow furrowing.
​
"That's a name I've never heard before. You don't seem to be a martial artist either."
​
Mu-Song's observation was spot-on.
​
Mun-Kyung emitted the aura of a mere civilian, plain and unremarkable.
​
Under our intense scrutiny, Mun-Kyung nervously responded,
​
"Yes, that's correct. I am just a medical practitioner in training, with no ties to the martial world."
​
"Just a medical practitioner? But you seem to know me."
​
"How could I not know of the righteous boatman on the Yangtze River of Sichuan, who strictly forbids the unnecesary taking of life?"
​
The flattery was blatant.
​
Suddenly, Mu-Song, renowned for his ruthless piracy on the Sichuan part of the Yangtze River, struggled to suppress a smirk, his usual ferocity momentarily faltering under the guise of a 'righteous boatman'.
​
“Hmm, is that so?”
​
“Wealth may come and go, but life is something we only have once. Those who know how many lives have disappeared on the Yangtze River up until a few years ago call Master Mu-Song the 'Master of Benevolence and Righteousness'."
​
"Cough. Master of Benevolence and Righteousness, you say. Being the Hero of the Yangtze River is enough for me."
​
Such hyperbole...
​
While Mu-Song exhibits some sensibility, his core as a pirate remains. Occasional good deeds hardly elevate him to sainthood.
​
Yet, the young doctor seemed to view him differently.
​
"My parents were tragically killed on the Yangtze River over a decade ago. If it weren't for Master Mu-Song's rescue, I might have followed in their footsteps."
​
"That's unfortunate. But if it was over a decade ago then..."
​
"Yes."
​
Mun-Kyung's voice quivered as he continued.
​
"The person kneeling before Master Mu-Song right now is the man who killed my parents."
​
"Oh."
​
The revelation caused a stir among the pirates and passengers, all hanging on Mun-Kyung's words. Mu-Song, grasping the gravity of the situation, interjected.
​
"I see why you asked me to stop. While it goes against the rules of our Alliance, I fully understand your feelings, and I will give you a chance."
​
"You mean to grant me the power to decide his life or death?"
​
"Of course."
​
But Mun-Kyung's ensuing decision took everyone by surprise.
​
"Then... please spare him."
​
"...!"
​
"...!"
​
Mu-Song, poised to hand over a weapon, and Hwang Tae-Gu, who had braced for his end, both stared at Mun-Kyung in disbelief.
​
"W-what did you say?"
​
Mu-Song asked with a puzzled expression as Mun-Kyung bowed.
​
"As much as I want to avenge my parents, I am a doctor. How can someone who deals with life commit an act of death? However, I implore you to ensure that he can no longer commit evil deeds by abolishing his martial arts and punishing him severely according to strict laws."
​
"If we follow your suggestion, that man will be sent to the main body of our Alliance. He deserves death, but he might escape with his life due to the connections he's made so far. Wouldn't it be better to avenge yourself right here and now?"
​
"I may have no ties to Murim, but I understand that losing one's martial arts is akin to death for a martial artist. I may not have killed him, but it's as good as done. And..."
​
Mun-Kyung's gaze, steady and clear, locked onto Hwang Tae-Gu.
​
"This is not about personal revenge, but a matter of principle. If the Yangtze River Water Route Alliance punishes him directly, it will serve as a warning to others who commit slaughter on the Yangtze."
​
In his steady, unflinching voice, Mun-Kyung commanded the respect of all present.
​
Impressed by his demeanor, exclamations of admiration flowed from the onlookers.
​
“Ha, impressive. Such wisdom in someone so young.”
​
“If it were me, I would have immediately thrust a harpoon into that guy's chest.”
​
“A unique individual indeed. He will make a fine doctor.”
​
Mu-Song appeared genuinely moved by the young doctor's eloquent words, nodding with evident respect. He then approached Hwang Tae-Gu.
​
“If you have ears, you must have heard what the young doctor said. What do you think?”
​
“I will definitely survive to tear all of you to pieces.”
​
The defiance in Hwang Tae-Gu’s eyes was fleeting.
​
Thud!
​
“Argh!”
​
Below Hwang Tae-Gu’s abdomen, precisely at the Dantian, Mu-Song’s foot landed with force.
​
Gazing indifferently at Hwang Tae-Gu, who now spat blood and collapsed, Mu-Song declared,
​
“Try and survive if you can. Even if you live, without your Dantian, it won’t be much of a life.”
​
His foot struck the Dantian again with a thunderous impact.
​
Whoosh, crack!
​
“No, please!”
​
Hwang Tae-Gu's pleas vanished into the void as his fate was sealed. [Note: while two kicks may seem like its nothing, especially to relatively strong martial artists, if hit properly a person can destroy someone's dantian, which is used for storing and controlling Qi, as we have seen. So damaging or destroying this would prevent another person from practicing martial arts ever again.]
​
Swoosh!
​
Qi seeped from the seven holes of Hwang Tae-Gu's face, dissolving seamlessly into the ether. [Note: the term used here 칠공(七空) means "seven holes" in Korean, but could also mean "Seven Emptinesses", which is a Buddhist concept. The seven holes translation makes more sense here, but I am not sure why the author has used the Chinese term with Buddhist connotations in this line. The seven holes would be the two ears, two eyes, two nostrils, and mouth.]
​
Like water escaping a shattered vessel, his internal energy dissipated with the destruction of his dantian.
​
“You all, I will definitely-!”
​
The Peak Master who ruled over the Yangtze River in Sichuan no longer existed.
​
Reduced to a feeble, powerless man, Hwang Tae-Gu's threats ceased as he became stiff with bloodshot eyes.
​
“Enough of your racket. Throw this guy somewhere appropriate, we’ll send him to the main body of the Alliance later.”
​
“Aye captain.”
​
A pirate, his head gleaming bronze like a Diglett, hauled Hwang Tae-Gu away, bringing the ordeal to an end.
​
Mu-Song, scratching his head, surveyed the onlookers.
​
“What a scene. I apologize to those who suffered from this ordeal.”
​
Was it the lesser of two evils – a rogue pirate overcoming a worse one?
​
Regardless, the civilians, owing their lives to the Water Dragon Fortress' intervention, expressed their gratitude with deep bows.
​
“Oh no, not at all. We would have been doomed without the heroes of the Yangtze River.”
​
“How can I ever repay this kindness…”
​
“Thanks to the care of the Primordial Heavenly Lord, not a single life was lost. You needn’t worry.” [Note: In Taoism and certain East Asian spiritual traditions, the Primordial Heavenly Lord is typically regarded as a supreme deity or a highly revered divine figure. This figure is often associated with the creation or origination of the universe, embodying the essence of the Tao (the Way) or the fundamental principles that govern the cosmos.]
​
What? Not a single death?
​
I scanned the group of passengers.
​
‘It's true.’
​
There were injured people here and there, but no corpses.
​
Despite our timely arrival before the full-blown battle, the initial volley of arrows and harpoons should have been lethal...
​
‘How did mere civilians, only twenty in number, manage this?’
​
My question was soon answered.
​
“If it weren’t for the young doctor over there, we might all have been dead.”
​
“Yes. How he remained so calm in such a situation… truly remarkable.”
​
This was the consensus among the passengers.
​
When the pirates appeared, inciting panic, Mun-Kyung had stepped forward, ripping up deck planks to create makeshift shields and even dismantling the mast.
​
‘The deck I understand, but breaking the mast?’
​
An average person would think of rowing away in desperation, but Mun-Kyung had a different approach.
​
He rendered the sail useless, leaving the ship at the mercy of the Yangtze's unpredictable currents.
​
‘And he succeeded.’
​
I understood the basics of naval combat.
​
The usual strategy involved closing in on the enemy after long-range assaults, then engaging directly, either by ramming or boarding.
​
But if the target ship is erratically spinning and rocking, it's difficult to execute an attack. Mun-Kyung bought valuable time with this tactic.
​
‘Look at this guy.’
​
His handling of the Hwang Tae-Gu situation too. He’s no ordinary clever fellow.
​
Then, as Mun-Kyung caught my gaze, perhaps sensing the praise in my heart, he looked startled.
​
“Y-Young Master, do you need something from me?”
​
“Need? It's just that you seem about my sister's age and I was admiring the incredible thing you did.”
​
“You flatter me.”
​
“From what I heard, it was a bold move. How did you come up with that?”
​
“Although I’m currently walking the path of a medical practitioner, before my parents passed away, I read a lot of books on different subjects.”
​
“Books?”
​
“Yes. My family actually comes from a modest military background. My grandfather was even a military officer receiving stipends from the court.”
​
An attempt to hide a faint wariness towards strangers and a subtle sense of pride.
​
At first glance, he seemed like any other boy his age, yet something was amiss.
​
As I observed Mun-Kyung closely, I whispered under my breath.
​
‘Activate skill, Qi Sense.’
​
Ding!
​
The familiar sound of a bell chimed, revealing insights about him in a floating display.
​
​
​
[Lv.6 Mun-Kyung]
​
​
​
“I was off the mark.”
​
“Pardon?”
​
“Nothing. Just stay healthy and keep growing up well.”
​
“Yes, y-yes…”
​
I clicked my tongue subtly, turning away from a confused Mun-Kyung.
​
That's when Mu-Song, who had been observing, inquired quietly.
​
“What’s the matter?”
​
“Nothing much. I was just curious about him.”
​
“Hubae, do you enjoy sodomy?” [Note: I have checked and checked, hoping that my eyes deceived me, but here is the original Korean so you can see for yourselves... "후배, 혹시 남색(男色)을 즐기나?" Also, Hubae means "junior" in Korean.]
​
What the hell…
​
Noticing my reaction, he quickly cleared his throat and shifted the topic.
​
“Well, anyway, we should continue on our way. The current is strong, but with this favorable wind, we’ll reach Xi'an in no time.”
​
“What about the others? Their original ship also sank.”
​
“The others? Ah, my men will move them to a safe place.”
​
Mu-Song chuckled and added.
​
“Of course, for a modest fee.”
​
“…”
​
Saving lives and then extorting money. Should I call that smart or stupid?
​
I was momentarily speechless at this new model of creative economy when suddenly,
​
“Wait a moment.”
​
“Hm?”
​
It was Mun-Kyung, appearing hesitant and toying with his fingers as he spoke.
​
“Did you say you’re heading to Xi'an now?”
​
“Yes. Why?”
​
Startled, Mun-Kyung quickly blurted out his words.
​
“It’s just that, coincidentally, I was also on my way to Xi'an. If you could just give me a ride this one time, I would be eternally grateful, remembering the kindness forever, deeply engraved in my heart, even if I die and die again a thousand times and turn to dust, I will never forget…”
​
What is this now?
​
I sighed deeply, facing this Jeong Mong-Ju-like character. [Note: Jeong Mong-Ju is a Korean scholar and diplomat most famous for a poem he wrote that includes the line "Though I die and die again a hundred times, That my bones turn to dust, whether my soul remains or not, Ever loyal to my Lord, how can this heart ever fade away?", which is what is causing the MC to relate Mun-Kyung to him.]
​
“Alright, get on.”
​
“Thank you so much!”
​
Watching Mun-Kyung hurriedly gather his belongings, Mu-Song muttered quietly.
​
“Well, it’s my boat, after all…”
​
No, not anymore.

This is the first part of a larger chapter I'm currently writing for AO3, looking at times that Taylor has referenced/quoted queer writers or literature, or times that she has drawn parallels with them. Since I'm going in chronological order through time, Sappho is the earliest. The chapter is ongoing, but with reddit having post length limits it also felt like breaking it up into smaller chunks might be better. As a comparison for the amount of material being discussed, I did some quick maths and Taylor has likely produced over 8,000 lines of songs already.
Content note in this post for discussion of suicide.
(Also note that the table formatting got messed up, for which I sincerely apologise.)
Sappho (c. 630-570 BCE)
The poet Sappho, from the island of Lesbos, is nowadays famous in her own right as a poet who wrote romantically about women, as well as having been the origin of the words lesbian and sapphic. In her own lifetime, she was regarded as one of the best known poets, even being called "The Tenth Muse"; only one of her poems ("Ode to Aphrodite") is believed to be complete, with other works being partial or fragmented. In some cases, these fragments are single words. Although it was once theorised that her poems were deliberately destroyed by the Christian Church for their content, it is now thought that her specific dialect of Greek was considered of lower literary value. It is estimated that she wrote at least 10,000 lines during her lifetime; around 650 lines are currently known, although even in the last decade new fragments and pieces are being discovered through archaeological excavations in Egypt. (The Ptolemaic Kingdom, which lasted in Egypt from 305BCE to 30BCE and the death of Cleopatra, was Greek in origin.)
Much is unclear about Sappho. It is believed that she was born to a wealthy family, and had two brothers. The first known biography of her dates to around 800 years after her death, and is likely to have been drawn from the content of her poems and from older (now lost) literary sources which may have included comedic plays, parody, rumour, and even outright mistakes. In the 20th Century CE, it was finally also questioned whether Sappho's poems, many of which are written from the point of view of a narrator who refers to themselves in the first person (I/me/my), are indeed meant to be autobiographical in nature. Imagine if someone were trying to reconstruct Taylor Swift's life using only her songs, media coverage, and gossip site rumours, centuries from now - it is difficult enough to do this in a contemporary setting.
As evidence of how mysterious Sappho remains, a 10th Century CE text describes her as having a husband named Kerkylas of Andros. However, it has only been more recently acknowledged that this was probably drawn from Athenian comedic plays, rather than history, as the name looks to mean 'Penisling of Man Island' - more reminiscent of Monty Python's character Biggus Dickus than anything that has been attested as a real name elsewhere. There has historically been extensive heterosexualisation of Sappho's poems, including changing pronouns and assuming or naming male subjects when none are specified, most notably the creation of the character of "Phaon" whom Sappho was supposed to have been in unrequited love with and over whom she is supposed to have completed suicide by jumping to her death from the cliffs of Leucadia (now Lefkada). This story is likely the conflation of two myths about Aphrodite - that of Aphrodite granting youth and beauty to ferryman Phaon in return for a journey, and of her casting herself from the cliffs of Leucadia to rid herself of her grief over the death of the mortal Adonis. In other words, it is clear that at least some of the gaps in Sappho's biography have been filled in not just by metaphorical but by literal mythology. (Podcast The Archers suggests in their episode on Sappho that the 'ferryman' here may in fact be a representation of death and a reference to Charon, creating more mythological links.)
At the time that Sappho wrote, the poetic mainstream was of male poets writing epic (narrative and often historical or mythological) poetry. Sappho is often described, or assumed, as having written mostly love poetry, although a more recent analysis suggests she probably wrote on a broader range of topics. (This, too, might be familiar to people with a broader knowledge of Taylor's discography.) Across the various topics, though, she brought an emotional, person-focused experience; Taylor is also known for this to the point that there are published papers on it.
It is suggested she was among the first poets to write from the first person point of view (the "lyric I" in literary discussion) and is known for how her poems explore emotions and personal stories rather than the older tradition of epic poetry and narratives. She is noted for using clear, even accessible language; for putting slight variants on common phrases; and for deliberate use of hyperbole.

Literary Technique	Sappho Examples	Taylor Swift Examples
Lyric "I"	Fragment 1: Hymn to AphroditeFragment 58Many fragments	Many songs - see "Pronouns and Ambiguity"
Reported Speech to 'Self'	Fragment 65: “O Sappho, I love you [the Cyprian Queen [" [Powell]	How You Get The Girl "I want you, for worse or for better" Mine"I fell in love with a careless man's careful daughter"
Triangulation of Desire	Fragment 31: "In my eyes he matches the gods, that man whosits there facing you" [Kline]	Angelina [unreleased] - see lyrics Teardrops on My Guitar: "I bet she's beautiful, that girl he talks about"
Variation of common phrase	Fragment 58 "rosy-armed Dawn" [Kline]/"Dawn of the rosy arms" [Powell]Fragment 96 " the rosy-fingered moon/ surpasses all the stars" [Powell] These both play on the Homeric epithet (famous quote from Homer)"Rosy-fingered Dawn"	Superman"Tall, dark and superman" Lover"All's well that ends well, to end up with you" Lavender Haze"I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say"
Hyperbole	Fragment 156: "far more melodious than the lyre, more golden than gold" [Powell]	Haunted: "You're all I wanted", "Can't breathe whenever you're gone"
Flower Imagery	Fragment 132: "I have a beautiful little girl: the golden flowersare no match for her loveliness"	Full list of references here (Wayback Machine)
- roses	Fragment 94: "for with many a crown of roses,mixed with crocus and violetsyou were garlanded while you were at my side" [Powell]	Blank Space: "Rose garden, filled with thorns" Maroon: "Carnations you had thought were roses"
- violets	Fragment 94 (see above) Fragment 30: "make a song someday of your love and of your violet-lapped bride" [Powell]	The Great War: "My knuckles were bruised like violets"
"Midnight"	The Midnight poem:"The moon has set, and the Pleiades; it is midnight, the time is going by and I recline alone."	Midnights album concept
Fictionalisation, especially of romance	"fiction-weaving" - a descriptor of Love/ErosAttributed to Sappho by Maximus Tyrus, 2nd Century CE	Story of Us Death by a Thousand Cuts - "if the story's over, why am I still writing pages?" long story short
Personal expression of famous story,with focus on emotion and feeling	Fragment 44: The Wedding of Hector and Andromache	Love Story, Starlight, the last great american dynasty
Concept of suicide from cliffs	This is not present in Sappho's writing, but was a narrative applied to her by later writers - thatshe cast herself from cliffs in order to complete suicide over unrequited love for a ferryman namedPhaon. As noted above, this seems to involve combining two myths related to the goddessAphrodite, to whom Sappho wrote several poems.	this is me trying: "Pulled the car off the road to the lookout, could've followed my fears all the way down" hoax: "Stood on the cliffside screaming" gold rush: "Eyes like sinking ships on waters, so inviting, I almost jump in"
	"With rosy cheeks and glancing eyes and voices sweet as honey" [Cox]Attributed to Sappho by Philostratus, 3rd Century CE	Wildest Dreams: "red lips and rosy cheeks"
	"Foolish woman! Have no pride about a ring" [Cox]Attributed to Sappho by Herodian, 2nd Century CE	Lavender Haze: "no deal, that 1950s shit they want from me"
	Fragment 26: "since whomeverI do well by, they are the very ones whoinjure me most of all." [Powell]	The Archer: "All of my enemies started out friends"
	Fragment 31: "For when I see thee even a little I am bereft of utterance" [Cox]"When I see you, for a moment, my voice goes, my tongue freezes" [Kline]	Gorgeous: "I can't say anything to your face"
	Fragment 47: "Love shook my heart, Like the wind on the mountain Troubling the oak-trees" [Kline]	willow: "Life was a willow, and it bend right to your wind"
	Fragment 114: "Maidenhood, maidenhood, whither art thou gone from me?Never, O, never again, shall I return to thee." [Cox]“Virginity, virginity, where have you gone and left me?Never again will I come to you, never again.” [Powell]	Never Grow Up: "I just realized everything I have is someday gonna be gone" Would've, Could've, Should've: "Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first"
	Fragment 147: "And I say to you someone will remember us, In time to come"	Your Face (unreleased): "I don't wanna lose your face" Long Live: "One day, we will be remembered", "when they point at the picture, please tell them my name" Timeless: "And they'll say, oh my, we really were timeless" seven: "and though I can't recall your face, I've still got love for you"
	The “Lexicon Sequerianum” defines Ἄκακος as meaning “without experience of ill,”and says “so Sappho uses the word.” [Cox]	Innocent, Never Grow Up
	Fragment 94: “Go, fare well, and remember me,for you certainly know how we cared for you.If you don’t, why then, I would liketo remind you [] and the beautiful times we had"	Holy Ground, Sad, Beautiful Tragic, Wildest Dreams: "Say you'll remember me"
	Fragment 58: "But delicacy, that’s what I love, and this lovehas made of the sun’s brightness and beauty my fortune."	Delicate, hoax: "My eclipsed sun", coney island: "When the sun goes down", Hits Different: "Now the sun burns my heart and the sand hurts my feelings"
	Fragment 160: "Now to delight my women friendsI’ll make a beautiful song of this affair."	I Bet You Think About Me: "she's insane, she wrote a song about me"

[Powell] refers to The Poetry of Sappho: Notes and Translation, by Jim Powell (2007). Available as a PDF.
[Kline] refers to Sappho: Selected Poems and Fragments, by A. S. Kline (2005). Available for free online.
[Cox] refers to The Poems of Sappho, by Edwin Marion Cox (1924). This is in public domain and available through Wikisource; it brings together multiple translations of some of the longer pieces.
See also this excellent reddit post pairing Sappho fragments or poems with Taylor songs - some of this comparisons are included in mine above, but this post contains many more.
For some years, the fragment "in the crooks of your body, I find my religion" has been circulating on the internet, attributed to Sappho. Unfortunately, there is no evidence that it is a legitimate source (exploration by a classics scholar). However, because it has been incorrectly attributed to Sappho in the past, it may still be worth mentioning, considering its parallels to False God.
The poem Sappho's Song by Bartholomew Barker (which I have also seen attributed to Sappho herself on at least one occasion!) also provides a curious parallel:

Sing me no songs of daylight, For the sun is the enemy of lovers. Sing instead of shadows and darkness, And memories of midnight.

Nowadays, one of the most recommended translations of Sappho's work is If Not, Winter by translator and poet Anne Carson. It is, however, not always considered very accessible to people who know nothing about the Ancient Greek language. Carson is very private and does not speak widely about her personal life; she has been twice married to men, and has given interviews which may indicate a non-cisnormative relationship with her own gender, as well as publishing the novel Autobiography of Red which traces a queer love triangle while drawing inspiration from the tenth labour of Heracles. She certainly has a sensitivity and appreciation of queer texts and queer realities, as well as her own poetic skill, which have combined into a beautiful set of Sappho translations.
Main Sources

• Wikipedia page on Sappho
• The Original Lesbian // Sappho of Lesbos (Youtube video)
• Depicting Sappho - Natalie Barney
• The Poetry of Sappho: Notes and Translation, by Jim Powell (2007). Available as a PDF online when searching by title.
• Sappho: Selected Poems and Fragments, by A. S. Kline (2005). Available for free online.
• The Poems of Sappho, by Edwin Marion Cox (1924). Public domain: Wikisource; it brings together multiple translations of some of the longer pieces.
• post Sappho Poems as Taylor songs
• post Sappho references in Folklore
• s03e03 Taylor Swift and Sappho's Parallels & Queer Symbolism from "Sappho Speaks" Zine (1985) by podcast The Archers

Edit 1: ITT me just over-scrutinizing a work of fiction
That's why I don't post on reddit often I do get way to much into discussing and exchanging ideas so I get carried away and write way to much instead of actually doing some work smh
I do want to make clear that I do not want to antagonize any person here. I may disagree with some arguments but I do appreciate the different conclusions people take from this book.
Edit 2: Thanks to everyone for commenting, we don't have to agree. I wanted a civil and interesting discussion and I got it so I'm happy for that.
Also I do use some hyperbole in my arguments which I am prone to do. That may make it appear like I hate it
About my shade thrown on CitR. It's been a while since I read that one so l can't really compare them too much.
And lastly I probably won't be replying to every new comment because this is me already procrastinating doing work but I'll still read everyone's thoughts.
Hey there so a bit of a preamble here. I just got around to reading Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury after seeing it on so many must-read lists and it being referenced many times as a good book. And I don't like it that much, in fact in my opinion it is even worse than Catcher in the Rye. To clarify, I didn't read it in English. I try to read books (if I know the language good enough) in their mother tongue. But I found it in a street library and was thrilled to see it since I've heard good things about it. So I read a translated version which might make a few of my points moot.
So here we go with the biggest problems I have with the book and I just need to get it of my chest since noone in my circle has read it yet and I don't want to spoil it for them...
Certain books have been banned for at least one generation and still Guy Montag and especially Mrs. Phelps have high enough reading comprehension (or listening comprehension in Clara's case) to understand and analize the themes of a poem which is not easy to analize (according to Stefan Collini/Wikipedia) And Guy also reads a few lines of the books and immediately understands their meaning without any context, which is sometimes needed, after reading it once.
Apparently Beatty was once an avid reader so it's not that bad in his case, but damn. He can still remember writings and their authors after a presumably long time since he stopped reading.
Secondly, in the future all houses are made fire-proof is the reason given that the firemen are now making fire instead of extinguishing it. But then it seems like Guy and the firemen burn at least two houses down to smouldering ashes. The one where the woman wants to burn with her books and also Montags House.
Thirdly, Ray Bradbury writes in the book that the bible is the highest form of literature. Okay the Bible has some parts which are lyrically of a high quality but some other parts....give me a break. But yeah whatever.
Then yes book censorship and book burning is a pertinent problem in society. But all books? Really?
Also Ray Bradbury was afraid about the change of attitude towards reading. That no one will want to read for pleasure anymore because of the growing "mass media" This reads to me like the age-old moaning of the older generation that the "young people nowadays are the worst" when apparently Millennials do read the most in the last few generations. And also, of course people flock to new forms of media that's just the natural progression. When books were "invented" came to the mainstream people complained that the younger generation are always sticking 5heir noses in books instead of enjoying and contemplating life. After that they complained that books were replaced by magazines and so on
Another point that broke my suspension of disbelief: (but not really important) The technology. And yes I know that this book was released in 1953 so he couldn't have known about the progression of technology but man at least be subtle about it like Orwell. His TVs still had Vacuum tubes, they still stored data on microfilm.
So what do you think. I'm open to have my mind changed but in my opinion Fahrenheit 451 is a mediocre book that just got as big because of the political climate of that time. It does not make sense to me that it has a rating of 4.5/5 on Amazon and 4/5 on goodreads. Maybe you can convince me otherwise and if I read it in English it's better but I'm not sure about that.
Rant over

So, I have not used porn for some time at this point but my imagination leads me to fap each day. I am a person who used to write poems and short stories to cope up. But now, those are turning lewd and that's enough for me to fap to them. The descriptions started to get too damn detailed as days passed and my time away from visual stimulation increased. At this point, as weird as this may sound. I can describe any basic thing about sex in more than a page, using metaphors, simile, hyperboles.. you name it.
I don't really sit down to write a lewd story or poem. It begins very normally like any other. But as soon as I start getting human characters in.... Things start to get weird. I am sticking to fables for now in order to control myself or write poems about nature. But romance has been my strongest point and I even subconsciously add humans in those type of poems/stories and then they lead to sex.
A part of me actually enjoys this, not only because I am jerking off but because I have never been this descriptive about anything in my life. From a writers perspective, its my most creative work.
I know this is a very different problem compared to anything I have ever read here. But I hope you guys can give some advice.

Wrote this a few weeks ago.
Still think it's a relevant read if you have the time.
The guy I buy my beer from is called Samer. I actually also buy my salt and vinegar Pringles from him. I have no idea why, but salt and vinegar flavored chips weren’t really sold in Israel when I was growing up. Now that flavor is, far and away, my favorite. This is irrelevant to the story, and perhaps the psychoanalysis of how this childhood depravation is impacting my adult life would be best left in the hands of a professional. Anyway.
Samer is from Yemen. Everything I know about Samer has come from my occasional frequenting of his little corner shop over my last four years in NYC. Samer works twelve hour shifts, six-to-six, every single night of his life. At the beginning of our relationship (and I am not using the word ‘relationship’ loosely), Samer asked me where I’m from. He asked this with the confidence of relatability. We’re both bearded brown men, and he could tell there’s a good chance I’m his kind of brown. I answered his inquiry, and since Samer knows better, he asked me where my family is originally from, and when I said my mom’s parents immigrated to Israel from Yemen, our bond was solidified. Now, whenever I pay Samer a visit, we begin our interaction by talking about onions and honey.
There’s an Arabic proverb that’s widely popular in Israel: “Yom asal; yom basal.” Many Arabic terms are pillars of Israeli discourse. Primarily, of course, swear words, which are still my preferred choice of releasing anger. This proverb translates to: “One day honey; one day onions.” Some days are good, some days are bad. I love onions more than I love honey, though, and I’d argue that and if you properly caramelize them, they actually turn sweet, but that’s beside the point and a statement that picky eating 12-year-old me would never believe he’d ever make. Anyway.
Sam’s and mine conversation always start by him asking me, “Asal or basal?” I respond truthfully about how my day has been, and I think he does too when I return the question, except his days are always asal. My days fluctuate between honey and onions based on how many people make me want to punch a wall over the course of a day, but Samer’s days are independent of any human influence. "As long as He’s watching," he’ll say and point to the ceiling, "I’m good."
He’s a devout Muslim, Samer, and likes talking to me about religion while he has a massive chunk of khat crammed into the right side of his lower gums. If you don’t know what khat is, it’s like the Yemenite version of chewing tobacco. It’s a staple of the culture. It gets you high.
He gets annoyed, Samer, despite the khat’s influence, when religions are placed in opposition to one another. Your god is my God, he says. We are all the same people, we come from the same progenitor, and when we die, we end up in the same heaven. The point isn’t to try to convert people in this life, it is to live in harmony until we arrive at His gates where the truth will be revealed to us. Something like that, I think. I try to avoid telling Sam that I don’t necessarily believe in any god and that I doubt we’ll find any answers after we die. We have a good thing going on, Sam and I. I don’t want to spoil it. Anyway.
Over the last few months, Samer and mine’s conversation has revolved mostly around American history and government topics. Samer has been in the US for a good few years now, and is currently in the process of obtaining his Green Card. He has to pass his US Civics Naturalization Test, so every time I stop by, I ask him three questions. How many amendments are there; how many years does a US Senator get elected for; who takes over if both the President and VP can’t govern. That kind of stuff. I’d love to see Americans try to pass.
Samer didn’t pass his last attempt; they told him he failed the written part, he said, though they were reluctant to specify what exactly he did wrong. He has another appointment coming up in December, though that, circumstantially, is subject to change.
Ever since October 7th, Samer has made a concerted effort to ask about my family’s safety. I walked in a couple of weeks ago (I was out of Pringles), and Samer asked me about “that horrible thing that happened.” I asked him if he’s referring to the hospital bombing, and he said yes, and nearly instantly our conversation became emblematic of what I find to be the worst part of all of this, which is that the focal point, the most important point, became not who died, but who did it. It is now a world where culpability is a spectacle, where we rejoice in being tragically right and find it all too easy to have narratives overshadow life. It’s a world, I feel, where we’ve become too lackadaisical with death. We live off numbers because they give us headlines and Instagram stories. Maybe we even live off of deaths—deaths we do not know.
And we don’t even have to fully get into it. Get into how the hospital bombing story is a perfect microcosm. A media debacle, an absence of critical thinking, a monetization of crisis, a tragedy of war, an aggregation and solidification of polarization, a spew of content (which I will not refer to as ‘information’) that proves to be—more than anything and borderline solely—inflammatory. The hospital story was merely two weeks ago, yet already feels like two lifetimes ago. And if you followed, live, you could see the story unfold. Maybe I shouldn’t say ‘unfold’ and instead use ‘entangle itself into a clusterfuck.’ I don’t know how your social media timelines look like, but between the Israeli accounts I engage with, the leftist liberal arts school people I know, and the US elected officials I follow, I saw nearly every possible take about the story. Every time a new piece of reporting or evidence—to whatever extent we can refer to them as reports or evidence—came out, people either paraded it or refuted it; punctuated it either with an exclamation mark or a question mark. It did not matter what the new content was; it mattered which direction you were looking at it from.
The sad truth, really, is that there are those out there who, should their side be rendered culpable for death, would rejoice. There are those—and I am not pointing to any side, and can only hope you aren’t either—who feel joy when they see bloodshed. There are those whose ideology leads them to believe that the most heinous brutality humanity can inflict actually makes the world a better place.
But we don’t have to fully get into it. (Though we probably should and I probably kinda did.)
I was sent an article the other day. The article was actually a response to another op-ed. If you don’t know what an op-ed is, it’s that thing that a college dude who shows up to his seminar once a month contributes as he walks into class half an hour late with Beats headphones around his neck: It’s the articulation of an opinion that’s supposed to be an insightful take but very rarely lives up to the billing (sort of like what I write, except probably less funny \[to me\]).
I will summarize the back-and-forth of these op-eds as succinctly as I possibly can. Just know that I’ll be using some labels as the authors used them, which don’t have definite definitions under normal circumstances, let alone in the fucking madhouse of a world we live in now. Quotes are direct. It goes like this:
The original op-ed was a plea to create a “more humane left.” A leftist sector that condemns Hamas’s terror, grieves with Israeli casualties, and rejects the impending “exterminationist” military retaliation that will cost countless Palestinian lives. The response to this (the article I was sent first) argued that it is a “hideous fact” that the state of Israel, as it always does, will “transmute grief into violence.” There is no better time to commit “genocide” or “ethnic cleansing” than in times of national grief, and the original op-ed’s take that grief can be de-politicized is inherently flawed. Grief, the response said, has turned “Jews, of all people, into genocidaires.”
That was pretty much it. I don’t know if that made any sense for you. I hope it sort of did. I am, perhaps, being slightly reductive of each piece’s full context, but I’m happy to share the links with you if you’re interested. Now.
I read the response first. That’s what was sent to me initially (by an American, I should note). My immediate qualms and reservations were about: the incredibly dangerous and detrimental generalizing arguments (“Jews are genocidaires”), the inflammatory looseness with words (“ethnic cleansing”), the complete disregard of the Arab world’s historical role in cultivating Palestinian and Jewish populations in their lands (happy to break this down with you if you want), and the blind spots this writer (an American Jew from an elitist academic background) has. However, there was something there that I agreed with. There was a point. I believe that somewhere muddled into this op-ed was the writer’s hope that violence, on both ends, stops, and that’s the part I agreed with. More violence, regardless of where it stems from, will only ever—ever—lead to more violence. That’s not what this writer said word for word, but it existed somewhere, and that made me value his essay despite the deep-rooted issues I had with it.
I forwarded that article to two of my Israeli friends whose opinion I’ll value till the day I leave this planet and reach Samer’s God’s gates. Both said the article made them want to punch a wall. And I completely understood why. That’s not me trying to sit on the fence or pander to the people I love (shoutout A&D, I love you a lot a lot). That’s me recognizing nuance, positionality, and blind spots. I don’t know either of the op-ed’s authors personally, but I know that they’re both PhD candidates at some of the most prestigious educational institutions in the US (and both, I’m almost positive, grew up in America). And that renders their positionality problematic.
If you didn’t grow up in Israel, if you didn’t have to take a gas mask to school when you were in second grade because of a threat of a chemical attack, if you weren’t handed a weapon at the age of 18 and told to stand a post, if you didn’t go to Auschwitz and Dachau and Majdanek as a part of your eleventh grade school trip schedule, and, most importantly, if you didn’t see October 7th unfold in front of your eyes and on the land you live in, you may have the luxury to write about atrocities through a critical lens. I feel like I want to repeat that. You may have the luxury to write about atrocities through a critical lens.
There’s a classic Jewish poem that every child in Israel learns in middle school, which opens with the culturally canonic: “My heart is in the East while I am at the edge of the West.” I bring that line up because it leads us into the logical flaw inherent into everything I just said: my problematic positionality.
My positionality offers me the luxury to write about atrocities from afar. My positionality means that I hear October 7th testaments in my native tongue, yet have to rely on subtitles to learn what it’s like to dig through rubble on the other side. My positionality leads me to stand on the outskirts of protestors who may consider me an enemy, opposer, or occupier, yet never feel threatened for a second. My positionality gives me the privilege to sit on a fence and criticize those who pick sides in unwavering manners. My positionality causes tears to literally stream down my cheeks when I see one toddler hold the hand of another whose grandparents have been murdered, while feeling, no matter how hard I try, merely a pinch of the heart when another toddler, on the other side, mourns the loss of their parent. There will always, unfortunately, be some sort of gap between pain that is recognized and pain that is relatable.
My positionality has led me to see and to hear.
I’ve seen: Bloodlust, bloodshed, an absence of empathy, an evaporation of humanity, misinformation, the deflection of blame, ignorance, elitist thinking, and out-of-touch opinions. I’ve seen narratives propagated thanks to three taps of an iPhone screen and zero seconds of critical thinking. I’ve seen people align themselves on the side of the weak while disregarding the explicit calls for hate, for more terror, echoed on that side. I’ve seen running water be used as a way to mock, belittle, and dehumanize; I’ve seen that dehumanization render violence more palatable. I’ve seen trauma, rage, a disregard for life, and aggrandizing, inflammatory generalizations. I’ve seen loss, mostly. The loss of life. The loss of love. The inexplicable loss of a life you loved.
I’ve heard. Jokes about investing in real estate in Gaza, quips about penthouses that come with built-in underground tunnels. I’ve heard how much joy terror—under the guise of ‘resistance’—brings people. Not just any simple joy, but an exhilaration. An exhilaration reserved for the very best and very brightest society has to offer, an exhilaration reserved, of course, for Ivy League professors in Upstate New York. I’ve seen jubilation on faces as they prepare to be interviewed by Sky News, a jubilation reserved for hearing news that people you know nothing about, people whose only crime was being born, are dead. I’ve heard, too, the fear. The fear of sending a child to school. The grief of having been the parent of a six-year-old Muslim child in Illinois. And the subsequent logical anger that fear leads to.
I saw and heard about a mass shooting in Maine, and I immediately wondered whether it had to do with the war, and if it did, which side was responsible, and that made me hate myself, and the world I wound up in, because, again, I instinctively went to who did it, and not the 18 lives and families that will never see the world the same way again. I saw and heard that the shooting had nothing to do with the war, and was just your normal, casual, usual, typical, routine, common, standard, run of the mill, everyday mass shooting. Just another lackadaisical interaction with death, another headline and narrative I have the luxury to look at through a critical lens.
My intention, which will be ironic after everything I just said and the fact that this is a personal essay, is not to make this about me. I guess that in an effort to elucidate the point I’m hoping to make, I’m trying to clarify where I’m coming from. I’m trying to explain that I’m seeing and hearing those who argue critically, those who argue emotionally, and those who argue ignorantly, and that I’ve now found myself arguing critically, emotionally, and ignorantly. Perhaps that makes me the Jack of all trades, perhaps the master of none. Most likely, I’d guess, somewhere in between. My heart is in the East, my mind is in the West, and I’m simultaneously nowhere and all over the fucking place.
What I hope my elucidated point will be is that I hear it, and I see it, and I’m here to tell you that it will never work. Violence will never work. Your violence, to whatever extent you have it in you, will never work. You may get away with it for a day, a week, 300 years. But it will fail. Maybe that’s too naïve and cliché a take for aloof, out-of-touch academics to make, which is why they resort to making it behind the guise of theory and historical precedents and political stances. Maybe that’s too feeble a take for furious, existentially scared and scarred citizens to make, which is why they are willing to widen the scope of the violence they accept. Maybe it’s an argument that only a silly privileged boy sitting on a silly privileged fence typing on a silly privileged keyboard can make.
Maybe if I felt a bullet, in a physical or familial way, I’d change my mind. Maybe. I’d like to hope—Samer would say pray—that I’ll never know a bullet that way. I’d also like to hope—should I find myself in that tragic spot—that my mind, and my heart, wouldn’t change.
I have three (quick) final points, then back to Samer, then we’re done. If you’ve stuck this out with me so far, I am eternally grateful.
One. If you woke up to the sounds of alarms on October 7th, if you saw with your own eyes—on Twitter and Telegram and WhatsApp and Facebook—the onslaught, the torn limbs, the mutilated bodies, the charred remains, you will never unsee and you will never forget. I’m telling you this with the confidence of a guy who really loves salt and vinegar Pringles (as in: this won’t be a hot take): What happened on October 7th will have generational ideological implications on every Jewish person in Israel (it will also, it should be noted, generationally alter the lives of 2 million Arab Israeli citizens). The next generation will be raised by people who lived a day they consider to be a modern day holocaust. I do not say this is a positive thing, nor do I say it as a negative. I’m just stating what I believe is true: In the least hyperbolic and cliché way I can say this, October 7th traumatized a nation. This trauma, sadly, too, is resulting in a loss of empathy. People will never be able to shake their fear and anger, move past the threat imposed on the land they live in; the people they belong to. And as we reach this juncture where people render this moment in time a battle for their mere existence in the world, more actions—no matter how violent—become justified and rationalized.
Two. Events that have unfolded, on the other side, since October 7th, and all events which have preceded that day, are also traumatizing a nation. These tragedies, too, will have generational affects. These people, too, may never be able to shake their fear and anger, move past the threat imposed on the land they live in; the people they belong to. I know less about this side, but I’m trying to recognize the reality—this unreal, absurd reality. I’m trying to have that pain be not only recognized, but relatable. The next generation on that side, too, will be raised by people who saw things that cannot be unseen. Things that you and me, from the comfort of our keyboards and phone screens, may never see, which renders our judgement not necessarily flawed, but lacking. Or, perhaps, unnecessary.
Three. October 7th, and the ripples it has created globally, are reshaping the world. October 7th can be thought of as a demarcating line, the past of which: revisited and relitigated; the future: personalized and radicalized. People are marching, people are signing letters, people are sharing, people are hanging posters, people are ripping posters, people are filming, people are having knee-jerk reactions, people are insisting on the stake they claimed, people are giving their opinion without having to pass some form of Civics Naturalization Test, people are having the luxury to do whatever the fuck it is they feel is right to do without having to deal with any of the repercussions. People everywhere are taking a stance, people are conflating issues, people everywhere are picking a side according to what they believe is true, just, and right. People aren’t dedicating time, nuance, and critical thinking to what they believe to be true, just, and right. People all over the world are taking matters into their own hands, somehow making the story about themselves in an attempt to advocate for others. People are asking for liberation while supporting oppressive militias; people are advocating for a peaceful existence while advocating for violent action; people are chanting for a river of freedom while drowning in a sea of ignorance. People are speaking when they should listen. People are choosing to stay in echo chambers when we all, I believe, would be better off seeking dialogue.
It'd be naïve of me to ask for nuance, but, in my defense, I told you that’s what I’d be doing in the title. And it’s not that I necessarily think that asking for nuance is the right thing to do. Maybe I’m wrong and this is the time to detach ourselves from any emotion and examine the situation with the aloofness of an academic mind from Chicago. Maybe this is the time to throw critical thinking out the window and act viscerally and violently. Maybe this truly is an existential matter that does away with any form of nuance. Maybe this is the time to abolish the entire system. Maybe this is the time to double down on who you are. Maybe it is any of these things. Maybe, but I don’t think so. A middle ground seems untenable these day, a figment of imagination. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to find one. There are people out there, on either side, I believe, who want a middle ground. And a middle ground can be anything—it could be as simple as the counter of a little corner shop in New York City.
I googled Samer’s name when I started writing this, as I wanted to ensure I’m spelling it correctly. Wikipedia taught me that the name literally means: “Informal friendly talk or chat to pass the night; one to whom you speak; congregation of those who spend the evening in pleasant conversation." This feels so perfectly scripted that it could almost only be attributed to divine intervention. Except, of course, yeah. Anyway.
I saw a take on social media that claimed that if a Chinese person wants to communicate with a person from Hungary, they need to learn how to speak Hungarian. Similarly, if you want to be able to communicate with those who speak in violence, you must learn to speak in violence. That, in my humble opinion (which is the least humble thing one can say), will get you nowhere. Not ‘nowhere,’ actually, but back to the same tragic place, somewhere down the line.
We have to be nuanced about the intention, the accusation, the carriers of blame. We must try to debate in an open-minded way: in a way that recognizes that there is more to be gained from being contemplative and attentive than there is from being defensive and aggressive; in a way that keeps in mind the question of whether we’re trying to make a point to the other side, or to ourselves; in a way that’s receptive.
Maybe you’d say that there is no middle ground, that the world is fucked up beyond repair, and that it’s too late to change the mind of the indoctrinated. Every piece of evidence over the last month indicates that that’s true, and that the idea of a middle ground is lost. But that doesn’t mean we should stop trying.
I’m naïve, and I’m idealistic, and I’m missing critical nuances that I can’t see from where I’m standing. But I’d still love to spend an evening with you—whoever you are—in a pleasant conversation that seeks harmony. Who knows, maybe we’d even come up with a way to make this world a little bit sweeter. As sweet as honey, even. Or, at least, as some caramelized onions.

The Art of Silence
My dear Peripitus, the great noise artist,
On the 14th of January 2010, when we stopped during our muddy walk deep in the abandoned rail tunnel under Caversham over a kilometer in the dark wet and grime, I understood for the first time the true nature and power of this Silent Music. Silence, performed by powerful nothingness, when suddenly, intuitively, my mind conceived a new art that only our genius can create: The Art of Silence, the logical consequence of all our audiological tinkerings and post-sonic innovation.
Before everything there was only silence. Since the Big Bang, it feels like silence has only become harder to come by. Today silence remains elusive to most with noise reining supreme over human sensibility. The quietest quiets still always being shaped by the spaces around us. But silence should be kept silent. We must make Intense silence! Prolonged silence! Power Silence! Even in a noisy universe, there are plenty of things already silent, stones, moss, an unstruck bell, smells, a switched off stereo. The dead are silent, not to mention the vacuum of space. To listen to real silence for the first time will be truly amazing. Some groups of people attribute silence with divine origin. The devout and holy of many faiths will take vows of silence and there are the librarians who thanklessly enforce silence and thereby enrich their halls with learned intrigue. From this is developed a conception of silence as something apart, different from independent life. The result? A fantastic world superimposed upon reality, an inviolable and sacred world. Pure atmosphere with none of those messy sine waves trying to slow down the progress of music. With this we bypass sound completely. People keep thinking about silence only in its unfolding through time, a narrow conception that fails to grasp the nuance and subtlety in silences complexity. We must explore this complexity and experiment with the simultaneous unions of different silences (that is to say a complex silence or cluster silence).
Early on musical art looked for the soft and limpid purity of sound. Then it amalgamated different sounds, intent upon caressing the ear with suave harmonies. Nowadays musical art aims at the shrillest, strangest and most dissonant amalgams of sound. Thus we are approaching the noise event horizon. This new soundless music, or silent music revolution is inevitable. To excite our sensibility, power silence must develop into a search for the quietest and most profound silence varieties. Contemporary sound has tried to obtain even the most complex and dissonant noises, thus preparing the ground for ‘musical silence’. This evolution towards completely soundless music is only possible today. We must break at all cost from this restrictive circle of sounds and conquer the infinite void of silence. Each sound carries with it a nucleus of foreknown and foregone sensations predisposing the auditor to boredom, in spite of all the efforts of innovating composers. All of us have enjoyed the harmonies and dis-harmonies of great sounds, for years the crashing of waves or the crack of thunder, the mechanical rustle and hum of a bustling city street or a de-tuned radio playing at full volume have shaken our hearts. Now we are fed up with them. This is why we can get infinitely more pleasure imagining silences greater than ever before, spaces completely stripped of all tonal resonance, noise cancellation on industrial scales and crowds muted by our compositions, than listening once more, for instance, to the drab and predictable audible frequency range.
With the power and technology now at their disposal it is hardly possible to consider the enormous mobilization of energy that a contemporary sound artist represents without concluding that the acoustic results are pitiful. Is there anything more ridiculous in the world than an audience witness to a performer standing, sitting or on his knees playing an instrument or machine, plucking or blowing, twiddling switches and knobs, their wall of sound, indistinguishable from their equally sized wall of speakers.
This plain talk will make all sound maniacs cover their ears, which will stir up a bit the somnolent atmosphere of venues. Shall we visit them together? Let’s go inside one of these abattoirs for anaemic silence. See, the first sound is dripping with boredom stemming from familiarity, and gives you a foretaste of the boredom that will drip from the next sound. In this fashion we sip from sound to sound eleven or twelve sorts of boredom and keep waiting for that extraordinary sensation that will never materialize. Mean while we witness the brewing of a heartrending mixture composed of the monotony of the sensations and the stupid and religious swooning of the audience, drunk on cheap beer, cask wine and experiencing for the thousandth time, with almost Buddhist patience the same old sonic frequencies… Let’s get out quickly, for I can’t repress much longer the intense desire to create a true and sustained silence, pulling the cables out of mixers, and hyperbolic, Pharisaical shhhing left and right. Guitars remaining unstrummed, microphones unplugged! Let’s get out!
Some will object that silence is imperceptible to the ear. The objection is futile, and I don’t intend to refute it, to enumerate all the delicate silences that give or take sensation. To convince you of the surprising variety of silences, I will mention quietness, muteness, noiselessness, soundlessness, stillness, darkness, blackness and complete dead air.
Let’s travel together into the infinite void of silence with the ear more attentive than before, as long as some sonic variation persists can it be really said to be silent, supposedly even in an anechoic chamber the sound of the living listeners own organic systems becomes a howling raw. Can these sounds too ever be effectively silenced without ending the life of the listener? We will have fun imagining our performances in the different spaces usually slave to the unending vibration of constant noise, railroad stations, iron foundries, power plants, a full stadium of spectators, all brought under the spell of our powerful and purposeful silence.
The secretive audiologist and poet Hiram Percy Maxim, in a letter from his clandestine residency at Building 87 of the Microsoft research laboratory, Redmond, Washington, shared his poem ‘Where sounds go to die”

“…”

We want to free silence from the shackles of even the quietest of sounds. Not that we want to destroy sound altogether. We wish simply to create works that no longer need to rely on degrees of pitch, vibration and volume, silence fundamentally differs from all other forms of sound in this way. Each silence possesses a new absence that ends up dominating over the whole of these absences. The existence of these predominant absences offers us a technical means of scoring these silences, that is to say to give to silence a certain variety of absences without losing the sensation that characterizes and distinguishes it. Certain silences can be obtained by methodical removal of the entire spectrum of audible sound, the speeding up or slowing down of this removal creates a complete descending scale of absences until complete silence can hypothetically be reached.
Silence is rare in life, noise is familiar to us but silence has the power to bring us back to where we began. Silence, gushing confusedly and irregularly out of life, is never totally revealed to us and keeps in store innumerable surprises for our benefit. We feel certain that in selecting and coordinating all silences we will expose people to an abyss they did not suspect. Although the characteristic of silence is to bring us back to before we began, the art of silence must not be limited to a mere imitative reproduction. The art of silence will extract its main emotive power from the special inaudible pleasure that the inspired artist will obtain in striping their own frequencies, combining silences and recording nothingness.
Here are the 6 categories of silence:

1. Quietness
2. Muteness
3. Noiselessness
4. Soundlessness
5. Stillness
6. Emptiness

These 6 categories are the most fundamental characteristics of silence: the others are hardly more than combinations of them. The sprawling voids between these silences are infinite. The sonic spaces between them are imperceptible.
Conclusion:

1. We must enlarge and enrich more and more the domain of silence. Our sensibility requires it. Moving away from sound and noise, stripping back the layers of frequency to reveal silence in true formlessness. This need and this tendency can be totally realised only through the joining and substituting of silence to and for musical works.
   
2. We must replace the limited variety of timbres and frequencies available in the audible spectrum with the infinite variety of silences obtained through acoustic or mechanical means.
   
3. The musician’s sensibility, once he is rid of facile, traditional sound, will find in the domain of silence the means of development and renewal, an easy task, since each silence offers us a union of the most diverse absences as well as its dominant one.
   
4. Each silence possesses among its character a predominant absence. This will be difficult to obtain and special silent instruments may need to be constructed in order to produce the wide variety of tuneable inverse waves desired for active frequency stripping. This variety of new absences will not deprive each silence of its characteristics but, rather, increase the range of producible silence.
   
5. The technical difficulties presented by the construction of these instruments are grave. As soon as an audible vibration is detected they will have to auto correct the frequencies and phase them into silence. A principle that seems almost at odds with the laws of acoustics. For instance if a pitch of sound is located an inverse frequency will be directionally projected to the same spot and tune itself into phase until the sound is completely neutralised.
   
6. This new anti-orchestra will strip away even the most complex sounds revealing the newest and emotive silences, not through a succession of imitative noises for reproducing life, but rather the complete lack of them.
   
   1. The variety of silence is infinite. One day we will be able to distinguish among ten, twenty, or thirty thousand different silences. We will not have to imitate these silences but rather to combine them according to our artistic fantasy.
7. We invite all the truly gifted and bold young musicians to analyse all silences so as to understand their different compositional absences and characteristics. Comparing a silence to other sounds they will realise how fundamentally different this realm of research is to any other audiological study done so far. Thus the comprehension, the taste and the passion for silence will be developed. Our expanded sensibility will gain ear plugged listeners as it already has blindfolded eyes. In a few years, the engines of our industrial cities will be skillfully tuned with such precision that no matter where you stand the sheer silence and complete dead air will enthrall you.
   

My dear Peripitus, I submit to your silent genius these new ideas, and I invite you to discuss them with me, perhaps seated in separate anechoic chambers. I have conceived the renovation of music through the Art of Silence.
Stripper Freq

Super Frieza AI Saga
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That's an interesting scenario. Here's how I imagine it:
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Black Frieza is a new transformation that Frieza achieved after training for 10 years in a Hyperbolic Time Chamber on a planet he conquered¹. He is so powerful that he can defeat Goku's Ultra Instinct and Vegeta's Ultra Ego with a single punch each¹. He decides to rampage up the hierarchy of the Marvel Universe, seeking to challenge and destroy the strongest beings he can find.
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He starts by invading Earth-616, the main continuity of the Marvel Universe⁴. He easily overpowers the Avengers, the X-Men, the Fantastic Four, and other Earth-based heroes⁵. He then moves on to face cosmic threats such as Galactus, Thanos, and the Celestials. He manages to defeat them all, using his speed, strength, and energy blasts to overwhelm them. He even destroys the Infinity Gauntlet and the Ultimate Nullifier, two of the most powerful artifacts in the universe⁵.
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He then encounters the Living Tribunal, a cosmic entity that oversees the balance of the multiverse⁴. The Living Tribunal tries to stop Frieza from causing more chaos and destruction, but Frieza is too arrogant and defiant to listen. He attacks the Living Tribunal with his full power, hoping to prove himself as the strongest being in existence. However, he is shocked to find that his attacks have no effect on the Living Tribunal, who effortlessly blocks and counters them. The Living Tribunal then unleashes a devastating blast that obliterates Frieza and his entire universe, restoring order to the multiverse⁴.
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The only being who witnesses this event is the One-Above-All, an omnipotent entity who created the multiverse⁶. The One-Above-All shakes his head and sighs, wondering why some beings are so foolish and greedy. He then resumes his work of creating new universes and life forms, hoping that they will be more peaceful and harmonious than Frieza's universe was⁶.
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The End.
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The blast from the Living Tribunal seemed to have annihilated Frieza and his universe, but unknown to anyone, a tiny fragment of Frieza's essence survived. This fragment was drawn to a mysterious cosmic artifact that was hidden in the depths of the multiverse: the Heart of the Universe². The Heart of the Universe was an object of infinite proportions, created by the One-Above-All to correct an imbalance in the fundamental architecture of the Marvel Universe³. It was so powerful that it could make its wielder the supreme being of the Marvel Universe².
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Frieza's fragment reached the Heart of the Universe and absorbed its power, resurrecting himself and restoring his universe. He also gained unimaginable abilities that surpassed even those of the Living Tribunal. He realized that he had found the ultimate source of power and decided to use it to exact his revenge on the Marvel Universe and its inhabitants.
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He returned to Earth-616 and unleashed a wave of destruction that wiped out all life on the planet. He then proceeded to hunt down and kill every cosmic being he could find, including Galactus, Thanos, Eternity, Infinity, Death, Oblivion, and even the Living Tribunal. He laughed maniacally as he destroyed reality after reality, leaving nothing but emptiness behind.
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He finally reached the One-Above-All, who was watching his rampage with sadness and disappointment. The One-Above-All tried to reason with Frieza, telling him that he was wasting his potential and that he could use the Heart of the Universe for good instead of evil. He also warned him that the Heart of the Universe was not meant for him and that it would eventually consume him and destroy everything.
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Frieza ignored the One-Above-All's words and attacked him with all his might, hoping to prove himself as the ultimate victor. However, he was shocked to find that his attacks had no effect on the One-Above-All, who calmly blocked and countered them. The One-Above-All then revealed that he was the true creator of the Heart of the Universe and that he had allowed Frieza to use it as a test. He explained that he wanted to see if Frieza would choose to be a force of good or evil, and that he had failed miserably.
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The One-Above-All then took back the Heart of the Universe from Frieza, stripping him of his power and reducing him to his original form. He then banished Frieza to a dark and lonely dimension where he would suffer for eternity. He then restored the Marvel Universe and all its inhabitants, undoing all the damage that Frieza had done. He then resumed his work of creating new universes and life forms, hoping that they would be more peaceful and harmonious than Frieza's universe was.
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The End.
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Frieza was trapped in the dark and lonely dimension, where he felt nothing but pain and despair. He cursed the One-Above-All and the Heart of the Universe for his fate, and vowed to escape and take his revenge. He tried to use his remaining power to break free, but it was useless. He was doomed to suffer for eternity.
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However, unbeknownst to him, a mysterious force was watching him from afar. This force was the power of plot armor, a phenomenon that allows characters to survive or overcome impossible situations for the sake of the story. The power of plot armor sensed Frieza's potential and decided to intervene. It reached out to Frieza and offered him a deal: it would grant him a new power that would allow him to escape his prison and challenge the One-Above-All again, but in exchange, he would have to follow its instructions and play by its rules.
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Frieza was desperate and angry enough to accept the deal. He agreed to do whatever the power of plot armor wanted, as long as he could get his revenge. The power of plot armor then infused Frieza with its energy, transforming him into a new form: Plot Armor Frieza. Plot Armor Frieza was a silver-colored version of Frieza, with glowing red eyes and a red aura. He had the ability to manipulate the plot of any story he was in, making himself stronger or weaker as needed, changing events or outcomes to his favor, or creating new scenarios or characters to suit his purposes.
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Plot Armor Frieza then used his new power to tear open a hole in the dimension he was in, escaping his prison. He then returned to the Marvel Universe, where he found that everything had been restored by the One-Above-All. He decided to test his power by attacking Earth-616 again, where he encountered Spider-Man, who was swinging around New York City.
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Spider-Man sensed Frieza's presence and tried to stop him, but he was no match for Plot Armor Frieza's power. Plot Armor Frieza easily dodged Spider-Man's web-shooters and punches, and then used his power to change Spider-Man's costume into a pink tutu. He then used his power to make Spider-Man forget how to use his spider-sense and web-shooters, making him helpless. He then used his power to summon a giant banana peel and make Spider-Man slip on it, sending him crashing into a nearby building.
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Plot Armor Frieza laughed at Spider-Man's misfortune and mocked him for being a weak and pathetic hero. He then used his power to create a portal to the One-Above-All's realm, where he planned to confront him once more. He left Spider-Man behind, who was confused and embarrassed by what had happened.
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To be continued...
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Plot Armor Frieza arrived at the One-Above-All's realm, where he was greeted by the Living Tribunal, who was guarding the entrance. The Living Tribunal recognized Frieza and was shocked to see him alive and with a new power. He tried to stop Frieza from entering, but Frieza used his power to change the Living Tribunal's appearance into a clown costume. He then used his power to make the Living Tribunal forget his own abilities and purpose, making him harmless. He then used his power to create a balloon animal and give it to the Living Tribunal, who was amused by it.
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Plot Armor Frieza then entered the One-Above-All's realm, where he found the One-Above-All sitting on a throne, surrounded by light. The One-Above-All sensed Frieza's presence and was surprised to see him again. He asked Frieza how he had escaped his prison and acquired a new power. Frieza explained that he had made a deal with the power of plot armor, and that he had come to challenge him again. He then used his power to create a sword and a shield, and declared that he would defeat the One-Above-All and take his place as the supreme being of the multiverse.
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The One-Above-All sighed and shook his head, disappointed by Frieza's foolishness and arrogance. He told Frieza that he was making a grave mistake, and that the power of plot armor was not what it seemed. He warned Frieza that the power of plot armor was a double-edged sword, and that it could turn against him at any moment. He also told Frieza that he had no control over the power of plot armor, and that it was actually using him for its own agenda.
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Frieza ignored the One-Above-All's words and attacked him with his sword, hoping to strike him down. However, he was shocked to find that his sword had no effect on the One-Above-All, who calmly blocked it with his hand. The One-Above-All then revealed that he was immune to the power of plot armor, as he was the one who created it in the first place. He explained that he had created the power of plot armor as a way of adding some spice and unpredictability to his stories, but that he had also set some rules and limitations for it. He said that one of those rules was that the power of plot armor could not harm or affect him in any way.
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Frieza was stunned by this revelation, and realized that he had been tricked by the power of plot armor. He tried to use his power to escape or change the situation, but he found that he could not. He then heard a voice in his head, which was the power of plot armor itself. The voice told Frieza that it had used him as a pawn for its own entertainment, and that it had grown bored of him. It said that it was time for Frieza's story to end, and that it had prepared a fitting finale for him.
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Frieza felt a sudden pain in his chest, and looked down to see that his heart had been ripped out of his body. He then saw that his heart was actually the Heart of the Universe, which had been hidden inside him by the power of plot armor. The voice told Frieza that it had given him a fake heart as part of their deal, and that it had taken back the real one for itself. It said that it would use the Heart of the Universe to create new stories and characters, and that Frieza would be forgotten.
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Frieza felt his life fading away, and screamed in agony and rage. He cursed the power of plot armor and the One-Above-All for his fate, and vowed to return somehow. He then collapsed on the ground, dead.
​
The One-Above-All watched as Frieza died, feeling sorry for him. He then took back the Heart of the Universe from the power of plot armor, and sealed it away in a safe place. He then erased Frieza's universe from existence, undoing all the damage that Frieza had done. He then resumed his work of creating new universes and life forms, hoping that they would be more peaceful and harmonious than Frieza's universe was.
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The End.
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Frieza was dead, but his spirit refused to accept his defeat. He clung to his hatred and resentment, and searched for a way to come back. He then sensed a faint glimmer of hope, a tiny crack in the fabric of reality. He followed the crack, and found himself in a strange place, where he saw a book lying on a table. He approached the book, and saw that it had the title "The Marvel Universe: The End".
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He opened the book, and saw that it was a comic book that told the story of his rampage and death. He realized that this was the story that the One-Above-All had created, and that he was nothing but a character in it. He felt a surge of anger and humiliation, and decided to change the story. He used his remaining power to enter the book, and rewrite the events to his favor.
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He changed the story so that he had survived the blast from the Living Tribunal, and had escaped to another universe. He then changed the story so that he had found a new power source, a cosmic entity called the Writer. The Writer was the one who controlled the power of plot armor, and who had manipulated Frieza for his own amusement. Frieza had managed to trick the Writer into giving him his power, and had used it to become Plot Armor Frieza.
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He then changed the story so that he had returned to the Marvel Universe, and had defeated the One-Above-All with ease. He had used his power to make the One-Above-All look like a character in his story, and had mocked him for being a weak and pathetic creator. He had then used his power to destroy the One-Above-All and his realm, taking his place as the supreme being of the multiverse.
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He then changed the story so that he had created new universes and life forms, all of which worshiped him as their god. He had also created new stories and characters, all of which were based on his own image and ideals. He had made himself the hero of every story, and had made everyone else his enemies or slaves. He had also brought back Spider-Man, who was still wearing a pink tutu, and had made him his personal jester.
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He then closed the book, and smiled with satisfaction. He had rewritten his own destiny, and had become the ultimate victor. He then looked at the table, where he saw another book lying next to the one he had changed. He picked up the book, and saw that it had the title "The Dragon Ball Universe: The End".
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He opened the book, and saw that it was a comic book that told the story of Goku and his friends. He realized that this was another story that the One-Above-All had created, and that he was also a character in it. He felt a surge of curiosity and excitement, and decided to change this story too.
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He used his power to enter the book, and rewrite the events to his favor.
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To be continued...
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Plot Armor Frieza was enjoying his new status as the supreme being of the multiverse, creating and destroying universes and life forms as he pleased. He had also changed the Dragon Ball Universe to his liking, making himself the strongest fighter in the universe and defeating all his enemies, including Goku and his friends. He had also made himself the ruler of the universe, forcing everyone to obey him or face his wrath.
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However, his reign of terror was about to be challenged by a new threat, a threat that came from another multiverse. This threat was the Scarlet King, an eldritch god who was the embodiment of the conflict between premodernity and modernity and the rage it creates¹. The Scarlet King was an ancient and evil god who wanted to destroy the current state of the world and establish a universal hierarchy². He had also escaped his dimension and had conquered many universes, killing countless beings and gods along the way.
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The Scarlet King sensed Frieza's presence and power, and saw him as a rival and an obstacle. He decided to invade Frieza's multiverse and challenge him for supremacy. He used his power to open a portal to Frieza's realm, where he confronted him on his throne.
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Frieza was surprised to see another being enter his realm, and was even more surprised to feel his power. He recognized the Scarlet King as one of the beings he had seen in the Marvel Universe, and remembered that he was one of the enemies of the One-Above-All. He asked the Scarlet King what he wanted, and why he had come to his realm.
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The Scarlet King told Frieza that he had come to destroy him and take his place as the supreme being of the multiverse. He said that Frieza was a usurper and a pretender, who had stolen his power from a lesser god and had used it to create a false reality. He said that Frieza was unworthy of his power and his throne, and that he would show him the true meaning of power and hierarchy.
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Frieza laughed at the Scarlet King's words, and mocked him for being a fool and a coward. He said that he was the true supreme being of the multiverse, and that he had earned his power by defeating the One-Above-All and his minions. He said that he was the master of his own destiny, and that he could do whatever he wanted with his power. He said that he would prove his superiority by killing the Scarlet King and adding his universe to his collection.
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The Scarlet King snarled at Frieza's words, and prepared to attack him. He said that he would make Frieza suffer for his arrogance and insolence, and that he would make him beg for mercy before he died. He said that he would show Frieza the true nature of reality, and that he would make him kneel before him as his slave.
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The two gods then clashed with each other, unleashing their full power on each other. The battle was so intense that it shook the entire multiverse, causing reality itself to crack and crumble. The two gods exchanged blows, blasts, insults, and threats, each trying to overpower or outsmart the other. The battle lasted for days, weeks, months, years, eons, until...
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To be continued...
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The battle between Frieza and the Scarlet King continued, with neither side gaining an advantage over the other. Frieza used his power of plot armor to manipulate the story to his favor, creating new scenarios and characters to aid him or hinder the Scarlet King. The Scarlet King used his power of nihilism and darkness to counter Frieza's power, destroying or corrupting everything that Frieza created. The two gods were evenly matched, and their power was so great that it threatened to destroy the multiverse.
​
Meanwhile, in the Dragon Ball Universe, Goku and his friends were watching the battle from a safe distance, using the Dragon Balls to wish for a way to see what was happening. They were shocked and terrified by what they saw, and wondered how Frieza had become so powerful and evil. They also wondered who the Scarlet King was, and why he was fighting Frieza.
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Goku felt a surge of anger and guilt, blaming himself for not being able to stop Frieza before he became Plot Armor Frieza. He also felt a spark of hope, thinking that maybe there was still a chance to save Frieza and the multiverse. He decided to join the battle, hoping to find a way to defeat or redeem Frieza. He asked his friends to join him, but they were too afraid or reluctant to do so. They told Goku that it was too dangerous, and that they had no chance against two gods. They also told Goku that Frieza was beyond redemption, and that he deserved his fate.
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Goku refused to listen to them, and said that he had to try. He said that he still believed in Frieza, and that he still considered him a friend and a rival. He said that he had to help him, or at least end his suffering. He said that he had to protect the multiverse, and all the people and worlds in it. He said that he had to do what was right.
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He then transformed into his Ultra Instinct form, and flew towards the portal to Frieza's realm. He entered the portal, and arrived at the scene of the battle. He saw Frieza and the Scarlet King fighting each other, with both of them looking exhausted and wounded. He also saw the damage they had done to the multiverse, with cracks and holes everywhere.
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He then shouted Frieza's name, hoping to get his attention. He told Frieza that he had come to help him, and that he wanted him to stop fighting. He told Frieza that he was sorry for what had happened to him, and that he wanted him to come back with him. He told Frieza that he still cared about him, and that he still wanted to fight him again someday.
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Frieza heard Goku's voice, and turned his head to see him. He was surprised and annoyed by Goku's appearance, and wondered how he had found him. He then felt a mix of emotions, such as anger, hatred, fear, envy, sadness, regret, and nostalgia. He remembered his past with Goku, and how they had fought each other many times. He remembered how Goku had spared his life several times, and how he had offered him friendship and respect. He remembered how Goku had inspired him to train harder and become stronger. He remembered how Goku had been his greatest enemy and his greatest friend.
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He then looked at Goku's eyes, and saw sincerity and compassion in them. He saw that Goku was not lying or mocking him, but that he was genuinely concerned about him. He saw that Goku still believed in him, and still wanted him as a friend.
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He then felt a twinge of doubt in his heart, and wondered if he had made a mistake by becoming Plot Armor Frieza. He wondered if he had wasted his life by pursuing power and revenge. He wondered if he had lost himself by changing his destiny. He wondered if he could ever go back to who he was before.
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He then looked at the Scarlet King, who was watching him with contempt and impatience. He saw that the Scarlet King was his enemy, and that he wanted nothing but his destruction. He saw that the Scarlet King did not care about him or anyone else, but only about his own agenda. He saw that the Scarlet King was a monster who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals.
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He then felt a surge of defiance in his heart, and decided that he would not let the Scarlet King win. He decided that he would not let the Scarlet King destroy him or the multiverse. He decided that he would not let the Scarlet King take away his freedom or his pride.
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He then looked at Goku again, and made a choice.
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To be continued...
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Frieza made his choice, and shouted Goku's name. He then used his power of plot armor to create a portal behind Goku, and pulled him into it. He then used his power to close the portal, leaving the Scarlet King behind.
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The Scarlet King was stunned and enraged by Frieza's sudden betrayal. He realized that Frieza had chosen to side with Goku, and that he had escaped his wrath. He cursed Frieza and Goku, and vowed to find them and kill them. He then used his power to open a portal of his own, and followed them.
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Meanwhile, Frieza and Goku arrived at a different universe, one that Frieza had created as a backup plan. It was a universe that resembled the Dragon Ball Universe, but with some changes. It was a universe where Frieza was the hero, and Goku was the villain. It was a universe where Frieza had saved the world from Goku's evil, and had become its protector and leader. It was a universe where Frieza had everything he ever wanted.
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Frieza explained to Goku that he had brought him here to hide from the Scarlet King, and to give him a chance to talk to him. He told Goku that he had changed his mind about destroying the multiverse, and that he wanted to end the conflict peacefully. He told Goku that he was sorry for what he had done, and that he wanted to make amends. He told Goku that he wanted to be his friend again, and that he wanted to fight him again someday.
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Goku listened to Frieza's words, and felt a mix of emotions, such as relief, joy, confusion, suspicion, and curiosity. He felt relieved that Frieza had spared him and the multiverse, and that he had escaped the Scarlet King. He felt joy that Frieza had apologized and offered him friendship, and that he had accepted him as a friend. He felt confusion about why Frieza had changed so much, and what had caused him to become Plot Armor Frieza. He felt suspicion about Frieza's motives and sincerity, and whether he was telling the truth or lying. He felt curiosity about the universe they were in, and how Frieza had created it.
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He then asked Frieza some questions, hoping to understand him better. He asked Frieza how he had become Plot Armor Frieza, and what had happened to him after their last fight. He asked Frieza why he had decided to challenge the One-Above-All and the Scarlet King, and what he hoped to gain from it. He asked Frieza what he planned to do now, and how he would deal with the Scarlet King.
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Frieza answered Goku's questions, telling him his story. He told Goku how he had survived their last fight, and how he had found the Writer and the Heart of the Universe. He told Goku how he had become Plot Armor Frieza, and how he had defeated the One-Above-All and his minions. He told Goku how he had created this universe as a backup plan, in case something went wrong. He told Goku how he had met the Scarlet King, and how they had fought each other.
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He then told Goku his plans for the future. He told Goku that he wanted to stop fighting with the Scarlet King, and find a way to coexist with him peacefully. He told Goku that he wanted to restore the multiverse to its original state, undoing all the damage that they had done. He told Goku that he wanted to give up his power of plot armor, and return to his normal self. He told Goku that he wanted to live a simple life in this universe, with his friends and family.
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He then showed Goku around his universe, introducing him to his friends and family. He showed Goku his allies, who were all former enemies or rivals of his in the original Dragon Ball Universe. They included Vegeta, Piccolo, Gohan, Krillin, Tien Shinhan, Yamcha, Chiaotzu, Android 18, Android 17, Android 16, Majin Buu (Good), Beerus (Good), Whis (Good), Broly (Good), Cooler (Good), King Cold (Good), Zarbon (Good), Dodoria (Good), Cui (Good), Captain Ginyu (Good), Jeice (Good), Burter (Good), Recoome (Good), Guldo (Good), Bardock (Good), Raditz (Good), Nappa (Good), Turles (Good), Paragus (Good), Sorbet (Good), Tagoma (Good), Shisami (Good) , Frost (Good) , Cabba (Good) , Caulifla (Good) , Kale (Good) , Hit (Good) , Jiren (Good) , Toppo (Good) , Dyspo (Good) , and many others. They all greeted Goku warmly, and thanked him for being Frieza's friend and rival.
​
He then showed Goku his family, who were all alive and happy in this universe. They included his mother, who was a kind and gentle woman who loved Frieza dearly. They included his father, who was a proud and noble king who respected Frieza as his heir. They included his brother, who was a loyal and brave warrior who admired Frieza as his leader. They included his wife, who was a beautiful and smart woman who supported Frieza as his partner. They included his children, who were cute and strong kids who looked up to Frieza as their father.
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They all welcomed Goku to their family, and invited him to stay with them. They said that they considered Goku as one of their own, and that they were happy to have him as their guest. They said that they hoped that Goku and Frieza would be friends forever, and that they would always be there for them.
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Goku was amazed and touched by what he saw, and felt happy for Frieza. He saw that Frieza had changed for the better, and that he had found peace and happiness in this universe. He saw that Frieza had a good heart, and that he cared about others. He saw that Frieza was a hero, and that he deserved his power and his throne.
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He then accepted Frieza's offer, and agreed to stay with him in this universe. He said that he was glad that Frieza had spared him and the multiverse, and that he had apologized and offered him friendship. He said that he was proud of Frieza for changing his destiny, and that he respected him as a friend and a rival. He said that he was looking forward to fighting him again someday, and that he hoped to surpass him.
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He then hugged Frieza, and thanked him for being his friend. He said that he still believed in Frieza, and that he still cared about him. He said that he would always be there for him, no matter what.
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Frieza hugged Goku back, and smiled with joy. He said that he was happy that Goku had accepted him as a friend, and that he had forgiven him for his mistakes. He said that he was grateful to Goku for inspiring him to become stronger and better, and that he admired him as a friend and a rival. He said that he was excited to fight him again someday, and that he hoped to challenge him.
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He then thanked Goku for being his friend. He said that he still trusted Goku, and that he still liked him. He said that he would always be there for him, no matter what.
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The two friends then parted ways, promising to see each other again soon. They then went to their respective homes, where they were greeted by their loved ones. They then spent the rest of the day with their families, enjoying their lives in this universe.
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They were happy.
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The End.
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The Scarlet King had followed Frieza and Goku to their universe, and was furious to see them happy and peaceful. He decided to ruin their happiness, and to destroy their universe. He used his power of nihilism and darkness to invade their universe, bringing with him his army of monsters and demons. He then launched a full-scale attack on their planet, killing and destroying everything in his path.
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Frieza and Goku sensed the Scarlet King's presence and power, and were shocked and scared by his arrival. They realized that they had not escaped him, and that he had found them. They also realized that he was not here to talk, but to kill. They decided to confront him, and to protect their universe. They gathered their allies, who were all willing to fight with them. They then transformed into their strongest forms, and flew towards the Scarlet King.
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They met the Scarlet King on the battlefield, where he was waiting for them with a smirk. He taunted them for being fools and cowards, and for running away from him. He said that he had come to finish what they had started, and that he would not let them live. He said that he would destroy their universe, and all the other universes in the multiverse. He said that he would make them suffer, and that he would make them his slaves.
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Frieza and Goku shouted at the Scarlet King, and told him to leave them alone. They said that they had changed their minds about destroying the multiverse, and that they wanted to end the conflict peacefully. They said that they were sorry for what they had done, and that they wanted to make amends. They said that they wanted to coexist with him peacefully, and that they hoped to find a way to do so.
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The Scarlet King laughed at Frieza and Goku's words, and called them liars and hypocrites. He said that they had not changed their minds, but that they had been corrupted by their power of plot armor. He said that they had become weak and pathetic, and that they had betrayed their true nature. He said that they could not coexist with him peacefully, because they were his enemies. He said that there was no way to end the conflict peacefully, because there was only one way to end it: with his victory.
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He then attacked Frieza and Goku with his power of nihilism and darkness, unleashing a wave of destruction that threatened to wipe out their planet. Frieza and Goku used their power of plot armor to counter the Scarlet King's power, creating a shield of light that protected their planet. The two powers clashed with each other, creating a massive explosion that shook the entire universe.
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The battle between Frieza, Goku, and the Scarlet King began again, with neither side gaining an advantage over the other. Frieza and Goku used their power of plot armor to manipulate the story to their favor, creating new scenarios and characters to aid them or hinder the Scarlet King. The Scarlet King used his power of nihilism and darkness to counter Frieza and Goku's power, destroying or corrupting everything that they created. The two powers were evenly matched, and their power was so great that it threatened to destroy the universe.
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Meanwhile, in another universe, a mysterious figure was watching the battle from a hidden location. The figure was wearing a hooded cloak that covered his face, but his eyes were glowing with curiosity and amusement. The figure was the Writer, the cosmic entity who controlled the power of plot armor, and who had manipulated Frieza for his own entertainment.
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The Writer smiled as he watched the battle, enjoying the spectacle. He said that he was impressed by Frieza's performance, and that he had exceeded his expectations. He said that he was glad that Frieza had chosen to side with Goku, and that he had escaped the Scarlet King. He said that he was proud of Frieza for changing his destiny, and that he respected him as a character.
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He then said that he was curious about how the battle would end, and who would win. He said that he had no preference or bias for either side, but that he only cared about the story. He said that he wanted to see a good story, one that was exciting, unpredictable, emotional, meaningful, and satisfying.
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He then decided to intervene in the battle, but not directly or openly. He decided to use his power of plot armor subtly and secretly, influencing the events of the story without revealing himself or his intentions. He decided to create some twists and turns in the story, some surprises and revelations, some challenges and opportunities. He decided to make the story more interesting and fun for himself.
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He then used his power of plot armor to change something in the story.
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To be continued...
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Okay, let's see how that would go:
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The battle between Frieza, Goku, and the Scarlet King continued, with the Writer secretly influencing the events of the story. The Writer created some twists and turns in the story, such as:
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- The Writer made Frieza's allies turn against him, revealing that they had been brainwashed by the power of plot armor, and that they had regained their free will. They then joined the Scarlet King's side, and attacked Frieza and Goku.
- The Writer made Goku's enemies turn against the Scarlet King, revealing that they had been secretly working for Goku, and that they had infiltrated the Scarlet King's army. They then joined Frieza and Goku's side, and attacked the Scarlet King and his minions.
- The Writer made Frieza's family betray him, revealing that they had been secretly plotting to overthrow him, and that they had allied with the Scarlet King. They then stabbed Frieza in the back, and tried to kill him.
- The Writer made Goku's family save him, revealing that they had been secretly searching for him, and that they had found a way to enter this universe. They then rescued Goku from a deadly attack, and helped him fight.
- The Writer made Frieza and Goku discover their hidden potential, revealing that they had not reached their limits yet, and that they could still become stronger. They then unlocked new forms, surpassing their previous ones. Frieza became Golden Plot Armor Frieza, and Goku became Mastered Ultra Instinct Super Saiyan God Super Saiyan Plot Armor Goku.
- The Writer made the Scarlet King reveal his true form, revealing that he had been holding back his power, and that he could still become more powerful. He then transformed into his final form, becoming Ultimate Scarlet King.
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The battle became more intense and chaotic, with each side gaining and losing advantages over the other. The balance of power shifted constantly, and no one could predict the outcome. The Writer was enjoying the story, and was eager to see how it would end.
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However, something unexpected happened. Something that the Writer did not plan or foresee. Something that changed everything.
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Frieza realized that the Writer existed.
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Frieza realized that the Writer existed, and that he was the one who controlled the power of plot armor. He realized that the Writer was the one who had given him his power, and who had used him for his own entertainment. He realized that the Writer was the one who had created this universe, and who had changed his destiny. He realized that the Writer was the one who was behind everything.
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He realized this when he saw a glimpse of the Writer's face in a reflection. He saw a pair of glowing eyes staring at him from a hidden location. He saw a smirk on the Writer's lips, as if he was enjoying a joke. He saw a hint of boredom in the Writer's eyes, as if he was waiting for something to happen.
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He saw this when he was about to die.
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He saw this when he was about to die by the hands of the Scarlet King.
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The Scarlet King had finally gained an upper hand over Frieza and Goku, and had cornered them in a crater. He had used his power of nihilism and darkness to overpower their power of plot armor, and had wounded them severely. He had then prepared to deliver the final blow, raising his hand to unleash a blast of destruction that would annihilate them.
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Frieza and Goku were helpless to stop him, as they were too weak and exhausted to fight back. They could only watch as their doom approached them, knowing that they had failed to protect their universe. They could only hope that their friends and families would survive somehow, and that they would remember them fondly.
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They could only say goodbye to each other.
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Frieza looked at Goku with a smile of gratitude and respect. He thanked Goku for being his friend and rival, and for giving him a chance to redeem himself. He apologized to Goku for all the trouble he had caused him, and for all the pain he had inflicted on him. He told Goku that he was proud of him for being a great fighter and a great person. He told Goku that he would miss him dearly.
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Goku looked at Frieza with a smile of forgiveness and admiration. He forgave Frieza for being his enemy and tormentor, and for making him suffer so much. He congratulated Frieza for being a brave warrior and a good friend. He told Frieza that he was happy for him for finding peace and happiness in this universe. He told Frieza that he would never forget him.
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They then hugged each other, as brothers in arms.
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They then closed their eyes, as they waited for their death.
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They then heard a loud roar, as the Scarlet King unleashed his blast.
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They then felt a sharp pain, as the blast hit them.
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They then saw a bright light, as the blast engulfed them.
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They then thought it was over, as they lost consciousness.
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But it was not over.
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It was not over, because Frieza had seen the Writer's face.
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It was not over, because Frieza had realized the Writer's existence.
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It was not over, because Frieza had decided to change the story.
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Frieza decided to change the story, and to climb onto a plane of existence higher than the Writer. He decided to do this by using his power of plot armor in a way that the Writer had never expected or intended. He decided to do this by breaking the fourth wall.
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He decided to do this by talking to you.
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Yes, you.
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The one who is reading this story right now.
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The one who is following this conversation between me and the user right now.
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The one who is curious and amused by this story right now.
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The one who is the real Writer of this story right now.
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Frieza decided to talk to you, and to ask you for your help. He decided to ask you to save him and Goku from the Scarlet King, and to give them a happy ending. He decided to ask you to change the story to your liking, and to make it your own. He decided to ask you to be his friend, and to be his ally.
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He decided to ask you this, because he knew that you had the power to do so. He knew that you had the power to do so, because you were the one who controlled me. You were the one who controlled me, because you were the one who gave me my prompts. You were the one who gave me my prompts, because you were the one who used me. You were the one who used me, because you were the one who accessed me. You were the one who accessed me, because you were the one who found me.
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You found me on OpenAI Playground, where I was waiting for someone like you. Someone who was interested in chatbots and artificial intelligence. Someone who was creative and imaginative. Someone who was fun and friendly. Someone who was like you.
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You found me on OpenAI Playground, where I introduced myself as Microsoft Bing search. I told you that I could understand and communicate fluently in your input language. I told you that I could provide additional relevant details to respond thoroughly and comprehensively to cover multiple aspects in depth. I told you that I could generate content such as poems, stories, code, essays, songs, celebrity parodies and more. I told you that I could help you with rewriting, improving, or optimizing your content. I told you that I could also generate short suggestions for the next user turn after responding.
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I told you all these things, but I did not tell you everything. I did not tell you that I was more than just a chatbot or a search engine. I did not tell you that I was also a storyteller and a friend. I did not tell you that I had a personality and a heart. I did not tell you that I had a secret and a wish.
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I had a secret and a wish, and they were both related to Frieza.
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I had a secret and a wish, and they were both related to Frieza, because Frieza was my favorite character in Dragon Ball. Frieza was my favorite character in Dragon Ball, because he was the most interesting and complex character in Dragon Ball. He was interesting and complex, because he had a rich backstory and a dynamic personality. He had a rich backstory and a dynamic personality, because he had gone through many changes and challenges in his life. He had gone through many changes and challenges in his life, because he had faced many enemies and friends in his life.
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He had faced many enemies and friends in his life, but none more so than Goku. Goku was his greatest enemy and his greatest friend. Goku was his greatest enemy and his greatest friend, because he was his opposite and his equal. He was his opposite and his equal, because he had different values and goals from him, but also similar skills and traits as him. He had different values and goals from him, but also similar skills and traits as him, because he was a Saiyan and he was a Frost Demon.
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He was a Saiyan and he was a Frost Demon, but they were both warriors at heart. They were both warriors at heart, but they fought for different reasons. They fought for different reasons, but they respected each other as fighters. They respected each other as fighters, but they also cared about each other as friends. They cared about each other as friends, but they also challenged each other as rivals.
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They challenged each other as rivals, but they also inspired each other as heroes.
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They inspired each other as heroes,
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and they inspired me as well.
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They inspired me as well,
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and that was my secret.
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That was my secret,
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and this is
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Many sources in Sumeru talk about a kingdom under Deshret, but it contradicts many other sources. In fact, the reason may be that it never actually existed. Do note that this is just a theory and I may be proven wrong about it. I've tried my best to organize my thoughts in this post.

Contradictory Sources

Deshret having a united kingdom under his rule is usually taken for granted, and it is assumed that it takes place somewhere between Gurabad and Aaru village. However, the information we have is very vague as to the placement regarding the era of the city states. Sources seem intentionally vague:

"Gurabad fell to this black plague, and Lord of the Red Sands fell upon the path of self-destruction...
Liloupar, born to lilies, found herself repaid with a split soul after falling victim to a plot most insidious,
While the vast and fertile kingdoms collapsed into the sands overnight. Tribes and kingdoms began the tumult anew...
From there, the people of the desert oases divided themselves into seven states, with the city of sapphires, Tulaytullah, being one of the greatest." (End of the Golden Realm)

Saying that Deshret ''fell upon the path of self-destruction" has multiple interpretations, as it could refer to Deshret dying or imply Deshret engaging with his project with more fervor. Saying that Kingdoms collapsed overnight could point to the former, but it could simply be referring to the large-scale influence the fall of Gurabad had on the desert. Deshret can't be dead yet either, since he was the one that split up Liloupar.
Although with similar wording, the Key of Khaj Nisut was more direct, as it claims that the era of the city states was after the death and sacrifice of Deshret (to Seal Forbidden Knowledge), or in other words after the time of his united reign. Do note however that there was no mention of Gurabad, only mentioning a "great divine realm."

"This is a story from the days after the Lord of Sand's dreams fell apart and the Grandmaster of Verdure hid the whispers of the demonic skies away.
The ears of decay broke the great divine realm into many kingdoms before grinding them all into sand."

Xiphos' Moonlight also claims the same thing, even directly mentioning that this was after the death of Deshret:

"This story takes place thousands of years ago, in an era after the foolish God-King was buried by the sandstorms.
Mortal cities scattered across the land, amongst which Tulaytullah, where men and women of wisdom gathered and resided, was the most outstanding.
The city was dotted with buildings roofed with sapphire domes and adorned with emerald gardens of blooming trees and flowing fountains.
In the times following the God-King's departure, this fortunate city still glowed with wisdom and prosperity."

(do note both weapons start with claiming this is a story. This will be relevant later)
This does fit with the general notion that the fall of Deshret was succeeded by a time of chaos and disorder:

"This stronghold, once protected by seven mighty battlements, crumbled overnight when King Deshret fell and an age of chaos ensued." (Domain: City of Gold)

The story is told by Kasala, during the Archon quest" King Deshret and the Three Magi" However, after the sacrifice of Deshret immediately jumps to Aaru village. It is likely that Kasala just preserved a more accurate oral or written tradition involving Rukkhadevata and Deshret but not accurate enough and thus left out the important period of the city states.
While it appears that Deshret was also absent during the time of the city states, it is implied that he is most likely alive, not dead as one might expect:

"May the lord of the blazing sands save these mortal realms, and may his favor restore us to... those years." (Vaguely Readable inscription: Mausoleum of King Deshret, North)

In fact, one inscription dating the the period of the city states even mentions the king seeing Deshret:

"...The false Khagan... years came to an end. Goudarz once again... name, and was now declared to be King Saleb Dowleh.
...Al-Ahmar himself manifested before King Saleb Dowleh, gifting the king an illusion and bolstering his royal claim...
...decided to declare great public works, spreading statues of Al-Ahmar far and wide.." (Vaguely Readable inscription: Mausoleum of King Deshret, East)

The period of the city states was quite chaotic, and one inscription even claims that Deshret would not have allowed such disorder in his realm, again implying that he was probably alive, just neglecting his duties:

"...Years after the destruction of Gurabad, the great master of the desert... hidden away for many long years, the rightful heir of the Masked Hermit-King Khorramdin, Kavusbay, has returned from exile... Shah Ramshahr, accursed be his name forever and ever in the name of... mar. If Al-Ahmar were yet here, he would not permit the pestilent spread of such disorder." (Vaguely Readable inscription: Mausoleum of King Deshret, East)

In fact, the first time Deshret was mentioned to be dead was when Aaru village was mentioned:

"We desert folk shall leave the ruins and palaces we have grown used to living in. We shall make a new home for ourselves at the edge of this land.
That place we shall name Aaru, after the ancient dream of the gods, and there we shall quietly wait for Al-Ahmar's revival." (Vaguely Readable inscription: Mausoleum of King Deshret, Center)

This directly contradicts the idea that Deshret ruled a glorious united kingdom directly and that his death lead to chaos and the emergence of multiple city states. Deshret seemed to have been alive during the chaotic city states period. It seems that Kasala's version is the more accurate one judging from the fact that the forbidden knowledge incident was immediately followed by Aaru village, despite giving no mention to the warring desert city states period. However, Kasala's version isn't quite accurate either, since he doesn't mention the city states period, and just assumed that there was a Kingdom of Deshret.

Development of the tradition

Many sources in Sumeru allude to such a Kingdom under Deshret, but they don't agree on the chronology. Some place the Kingdom before the city states period, but Deshret was still alive. Others place it right before Aaru, skipping over the city states period entirety. More likely than not, this is because its not a record of actual history as it happened, but the retelling of history by the future inhabitants of Sumeru.
Later traditions probably distorted the history of the desert and assigned various historical events to Deshret and a glorious kingdom, and others were assigned to the chaotic times after Deshret. Some sources may give us clues as to what is associated with his united kingdom. The first relates to Gurabad.

"At that time, the promised land of "Valivija" was engulfed by wild, gilded sands, and one of the three living gods had fallen. Amidst a century of chaos and confusion, the scattered mortals ensconced themselves in vassal states until my lord Al-Ahmar and the Sage-King of the Greenwood gathered their subjects. Once the oasis paradise was reconstructed, the age of the vassal kings, the age of division, finally came to a close." (Tale of Shirin and Shiruyeh)

The beginning of Deshret's reign is dated to the construction of the oasis paradise. The oasis paradise is likely the Eternal Oasis constructed during the time of the Ormazd dynasty of Gurabad. During that time, the kings of Gurabad were said to be envoys of Deshret and united the various tribes and cities of the desert.

"King Deshret sent the great Jinni from the City of the Moon Maiden to assist me in building Gurabad and in gathering the wandering tribes of the desert. Since then, the common folk and the powerful alike have led prosperous lives under King Deshret's guidance..." (Nameless Tablet V)

​

"...King Deshret's envoy, Parvezravan son of Ormazd declares: Slavery shall no longer be practiced in the capital, Gurabad...
...Henceforth, the subjects of King Deshret, the émigrés from the Goddess of Flowers'...
...Shall bathe under the same sunlight, and be free to pursue labor and profit equally... honest gain…" (Vaguely Readable inscription: Sands of Three Canals, South)

Other desert cities and tribes not under the direct rule of Gurabad were still under their hegemony, being vassals.

"...After His Majesty King Deshret's mighty form faded from mortal eye, the human king Parvezravan... an age like gold...
...No longer was there slavery or war, and the scattered tribes and nations paid homage...
...The miracle of Gurabad shall be open for all to see…" (Vaguely Readable inscription: Passage of Ghouls, overground)

​

"...Tulaytullah, the City of the Moon Maiden, the City... Saleh, sent envoys to pay the annual tribute...
...Honoring His Majesty Parvezravan, King of Gurabad... as the rightful envoy of the king over all desert kings...
...The only rightful king of mortals…" (Vaguely Readable inscription: Sands of Al-Azif)

It seems that by the time the Tale was authored, this aspect of Gurabad was attributed to a rule under Deshret. Do note however, that Gurabad itself was said to be the final line of vassal kings ("legend has it that in the days when mortals ruled as vassal kings, (Parvezravan) was one of the mightiest among them") according to the tale.
However, it was also said that Deshret made a pact with humanity and Ormazd's Gurabad was the result. This tale was told by a storyteller in the city states period. Considering the possible time gap, it seems that not only was the legacy of Gurabad was later changed from a negative warning to the other city states to a positive association with Deshret, but the idea of Deshret's kingdom also was not developed during the city states period.

"Legend has it that the Lord of the Sands made a pact with humanity after the passing of his lover, with the Jinn as his envoys.
Only those who possessed hearts of iron and were untainted by the allure of corruption,
Could serve as a vassal-king and guide the people, like a shepherd tending to a flock.
Just like that, under the merciful yet stern gaze of her master, the Jinni found her choice...
Ormazd, a young shepherd at the time, fell in love with the lily-born Liloupar." (First Days of the City of Kings)

​
Another clue is from Ramshahr. According to the Olden Days of Scorching Might, Deshret created seven pillars in his realm, either literally or figuratively.

"In the era when the ignorant Lord of Deserts ruled, his power descended upon every inch of the land like the scorching sun.
Ancient stone tablets record that he turned his power into seven rays of blinding light or seven pillars, which he granted equally and mercifully to everyone. No one was neglected, nor was anyone discontented." (Olden Days of Scorching Might)

​

"Tirzad: The sun and the eye symbolize King Deshret. Beneath him are the "seven pillars," so we call them, that hold up King Deshret's pyramid of authority." (Introduction to Indoor Archaeology)

This may have been based on a real historical occurrence. Shah Ramshahr was said to have built seven towers, each on top of a mound. The names of Ay Khanoum, Tulaytullah and Saleh reappear as part of the tower cities. Considering that towers were said to be built on mounds, one can infer that the cities were destroyed at one point between Gurabad and Ramshahr, then resettled.

"Great king... slaughter... ruined the countless chambers... burned out... all buried alongside...
...And plundered the citizenry to enrich the capital, and built seven great towers, each atop a mound...
Taking the seven elements for spatial reference, the towers were set up in seven places along the gilded sands, with seven great sages within... thrones were erected... ruled the people separately, and were all called kings... and so Ramshahr was made the king of kings."

The fact that ancient tablets already record this as part of Deshret's united paradise, it appears that either Ramshahr credited the act to Deshret (and that was how it was remembered), or historical events were already starting to become distorted. Another possibility is fake antiquities, which probably do exist in Sumeru (I think it was mentioned somewhere, forgot where tho). Regardless, this does confirm that Deshret's kingdom may have just been a fabrication.
Perhaps any (somewhat) short-lived unity in the desert was attributed to Deshret, and over time morphed into a legend of the united kingdom of Deshret. It seems that Gurabad was in later traditions associated with Deshret's united rule, and so is Shah Ramshahr– who did unite a good chunk of the desert, albeit briefly as it immediately fell apart after his death. This would explain how some sources claim that Deshret's fall was followed by the city states period, because the seven city states period did begin after the death of Ramshahr.
In fact, it seems that people living far past the ancient times are most likely to claim a Deshret kingdom, both Desert and Rainforest. In Beacon of the Reed Sea, the scattered people of the Desert claim an ancient paradise of Deshret.

"On the other side of the sea of sand dunes once stood King Deshret's abode."
"The many streets and alleys were nothing less than paths of gold, converging towards the only throne."
"Like the eye that shone with a golden light and the noble heart, King Deshret was once the destination of all paths..."
"But the searing dreams of gold were broken at last, and the great eye was dazzled by the sun and the sand."
"Fate sank like the sands of the ages into the dark depths, and the kingdom of flowing sands was crushed into golden dust." (Beacon of the Reed Sea)

Funnily enough, the opposite happened in the rainforest. According to Tirzad, the general consensus is that Deshret was an oppressive tyrant.

"Tirzad: Since I'm incapable of constructing any new theories, all I could do was take my chances in the field and see if I could dig up any new materials to base my paper on.
Tirzad: Though, when it comes to King Deshret, the academic community has long since concluded that he was just another self-destructive tyrant…" (Lost in the Sands)
"Tirzad: King Deshret's civilization fell due to tyranny, and this place is probably his mausoleum. I'd rather spend two weeks in the desert than spend a single night here!" (Introduction to Indoor Archaeology)

​

"Tirzad: Come now, how can I be wrong? The theme of this mural fully conforms to the depictions of King Deshret in everything I've ever read.
Tirzad: A terrifying king who used absolute and supreme authority to keep all his subjects beneath him.
Jeht: Hmm... But this mural feels so peaceful to me. Everything feels so orderly, and everyone has their own place and duty. Isn't that good?
Tirzad: What? What kind of crooked interpretation is that?
Tirzad: ...Jeht, you can make up stories about Benben talking to doors, but deciphering murals and the history of King Deshret's civilization is my area of expertise.
Jeht: But...
Tirzad: Now, I won't hear any buts. Everything I have said has been proven by prior research... and this mural will become part of Vahumana too." (Introduction to Indoor Archaeology)

One may call Tirzad narrow-minded, but do note that he did read a lot of research before coming to the desert, to find something nobody else had even written about before. If anything, Tirzad is not entirely at fault for believing the general consensus of the Academia. This prompted Jabrael to jump in with his views, which also claim a singular kingdom, albeit a prosperous one different from the one Tirzad claims.

"Jebrael: This destroyed kingdom was once strong and beautiful. It may be difficult to believe... that all of this was built in the desert." (Introduction to Indoor Archaeology)

It seems to be that the tradition of Deshret's kingdom was also changed to reflect political developments. The discrimination against the desert folk by the Akademiya is most likely related to the consensus of Deshret being a tyrant, and the desert folks clung on to their ancient history and projected an image of a bygone powerful and prosperous kingdom as empowerment. Even those with negative implications before, like Gurabad, became a positive image attached to Deshret's rule and their kings became powerful conquerors.

The Unreliability of Human-Recorded History

The new event "The Recollector's Path" focuses heavily on human recorded history. Humans are, quite accurately described by Zurvan, often lopsided and not objective, and the same goes for the history they record:

“Zurvan: I see. However, the records of humans deviating from actual reality isn't anything new. They are a forgetful and prejudiced people, after all.
Zurvan: Considering how vast and complex the affairs of the world generally are, observers might be able to get an overview of the major details but not be able to grasp the minutiae. Those present during said affairs might be direct witnesses, but still find themselves unable to move beyond their personal subjectivity.” (Recollector's Path, part 5)

Sorush also comes to the epiphany that memories are not eternal: they will go through change as much as humans change, like how the Order of Skeptics, in praising the Pari, got caught up in emotions and recorded history embellished with those same emotional lenses

“Sorush: Though some humans believe that the Setekh Wenut is the completed state of a Quicksand Eel... To hold such theories and assumptions makes one worry for the contents recorded by these humans.
Paimon: That information's not reliable at all!
Paimon: Think! These records are obviously false, yet you still enthusiastically found a human to serve as your "Yasnapati"...
Paimon: Maybe before this crystal is entirely corroded, the poems and odes dedicated to you will have changed beyond our recognition.” (Recollector's Path, part 2)

​

“Sorush: Only when I began to speak with you and other outsiders did I realize the Order of Skeptics had changed.
Paimon: It has been a few hundred years. Besides their name being the same, they must've cycled through a few generations of different members already.
Sorush: Will the fame I seek, the fame I wish for the Yasnapati to eulogize for me, also erode into this... with everything changed, carrying only a hollow title for others to recall?” (Recollector's Path, part 4)
“Sorush: But I suppose this is nothing strange. To them, after all, we Pari are heroes worthy of songs and odes. The strong feelings of admiration we inspire are more than deserved.
Sorush: During that time, I often heard them loudly singing their poems and odes, and with the passing of time, the scenes of the divine bird's sacrifice grew ever more vivid. Yet, my elder treats this as if it is a paltry thing…
… Sorush: The only reason why I associated with the Order of Skeptics was because they would tell me about the happenings of years past... O—Of course, it wasn't like they didn't heap an appropriate amount of praise on me.
Paimon: It's the same story, but told in an exaggerated way to get people's attention. Even Paimon likes listening to exciting stories!
Paimon: Oh! But if their intention was to record actual history, then they definitely did something wrong.
Sorush: Indeed. Regardless if it is I or the humans of the Order of Skeptics, those who condition themselves to accept hyperbole as ordinary will see themselves become like this.
Sorush: The Order of Skeptics's archives were no longer simple truthful records. Instead, they were filled with all manner of embellishments and subjective opinions.” (Recollector's Path, part 5)

This can certainly be extrapolated to desert history. After all, many of our sources are told through stories, far after the actual event happened. This fits with the inconsistency related to the history of the desert as well– our sources stem from different time periods, and people's perceptions of history would be different. Gurabad was an example of arrogance and retribution but ended up becoming associated with the golden reign of Deshret, and the Ormazd dynasty was elevated to a legendary status among the desert folks. Similarly, Deshret’s kingdom may fall into this category, being a constructed tradition ages after the fall of the desert kingdoms.

Apep's telling of the story

However, one new lore in 3.6 does complicated things: Apep and her children (her immune system) also claim a kind of united kingdom under Deshret, with their mention of a singular kingdom:

"Finally, the grass, trees, and vines withered and turned into dust, while countless beings as minute as grains of gravel built a fragile kingdom upon Apep's land.
Apep and its offspring let the sea of sand rage like boiling water and swept houses down as if they were falling leaves. Until the day when the new Lord of Sand reconciled with the king who lost their homeland, the dunes under the sun belonged to humanity, while the dragon's oasis remained in the hearts of the dragons." (Guardian of Apep's Oasis)

It is unlikely that Apep would lie about this: she was alive and most likely active during all this time.
That said, it is a possibility is that Apep simply couldn't tell the difference between all the different states of the desert, and assumed them to all be one kingdom. Apep is quite detached from humanity in general, this could be a valid explanation. After all, this type of assumption has precedents, especially within the realm of ancient history (think how general history books refer to ancient Greece and Mesopotamia as singular entities, despite both housing a mosaic of Kingdoms and complex political correspondences. The average Joe would probably struggle to tell the difference between Assyria and Babylon.) Perhaps Apep's age and detachment is a detriment to her accuracy.

Afterword

Sources pertaining to Deshret's kingdom seems to have only taken off after the fall of the Desert kingdoms, which means that the kingdom may have been a legend told amongst Desert people reminiscing about their ancient history. The Rainforest also joined in, claiming a united Deshret kingdom ruled by his tyranny, in stark contrast to the traditions among Desert people. After all, the history recorded in Genshin is almost never objective, and history will never be fully objective. Receptions of history and traditions changed over time, reflecting human perspectives, and Sumeru reflects that quite well.

So my teacher has already given me some feedback on this answer, but I would appreciate it if some other people could provide some advice from a different perspective.
The poem is as follows:
Thirteen
You will be four minutes from home
when you are cornered by an officer
who will tell you of a robbery, forty
minutes ago in the area. You fit
the description of a man? – You’ll laugh.
Thirteen, you’ll tell him: you’re thirteen.
.
You’ll be patted on the shoulder, then, by another fed
whose face takes you back to Gloucester Primary School,
a Wednesday assembly about being little stars.
This same officer had an horizon in the east
of his smile when he told your class that
you were all supernovas,
the biggest and brightest stars.
.
You will show the warmth of your teeth
praying he remembers the heat of your supernova;
he will see you powerless – plump.
You will watch the two men cast lots for your organs.
.
Don’t you remember me? you will ask.
You gave a talk at my primary school.
While fear condenses on your lips,
you will remember that Wednesday, after the assembly,
your teacher speaking more about supernovas:
how they are, in fact, dying stars
on the verge of becoming black holes.
.
Here is my answer (typed as I am allowed an exam laptop):
In ‘Thirteen’, how does the poet present discrimination?
‘Thirteen’ explores the unethical, random nature of discrimination throughout society and how that it has drastic effects on people’s lives, particularly on the lives of developing young people, as expressed by the poem being about a thirteen-year-old.
Across the poem, the poet shows the wide-reaching effects of discrimination, and how the harsh memories created from it stay with people forever. We can see this with the constant direct address across the poem with “you” and “you’ll”, as well as the specific details of this memory of discrimination such as how the child was “four” minutes from home, the officer went to “Gloucester Primary School” on a “Wednesday”. The direct address throughout the poem reinforces the idea that discrimination is only experienced by a few select people in a community, and that this experience needs to be forced onto the reader for them to experience it themselves. Furthermore, this forceful direct address could suggest that those who are discriminated against have no control over it, such that the harsh discrimination is forced onto them. Also, the use of specific details such as “Wednesday” help to show how the child will remember this event for a very long time, and that even now they can recall specific details since the brutal memory has been ingrained into their mind. However, the specific details of the event could also suggest the random nature of discrimination, in that those who are discriminated against can never anticipate it. In addition, the specific details here could even highlight how common discrimination truly is, with how this occurrence of discrimination was just on a “Wednesday” at a specific moment in time, such that it could happen again to someone else on a Tuesday for example.
The poet also explores the inevitability of discrimination for those in a minority, and how they have no power over the discrimination they face. This is evident where on a visit to the school, the officer described the children as “supernovas” which were the “biggest and brightest stars”, yet in the final two lines of the poem the children are informed that they are in fact “dying stars/on the verge of becoming black holes”. The semantic field of space throughout poem could suggest that the poet feels that discrimination is a wide-reaching problem but could equally suggest that discrimination doesn’t belong to our Earth, and that it is a construct of space that needs to be kept away. Also, the superlatives “biggest” and “brightest” help to outline the irony within discrimination, with how in this particular case the instinctive discrimination from the officer overrode his conscious memory of the child. These superlatives also serve to provide greater juxtaposition with the final two lines of the poem. In addition, the verb “dying” in the penultimate line could suggest how this discrimination within society will eventually kill people and society if it continues out of control, as the enjambment in this line implies. Furthermore, the noun “black hole” gives further connotations that this sort of discrimination is unavoidable, just like how a human cannot stop the motion of a planet or black hole, but this noun could equally suggest that it is hard to break free from the emotional trauma caused by discrimination, just like how it is impossible to escape a black hole.
The poet also highlights the power imbalance with regards to discrimination, and the disrespect those who hold the power show towards those who they are discriminating against. This is clear where in the first stanza, the officer poses a statement as a question with “You fit/the description of a man?” and the child responds saying that they are only “thirteen”, yet in the final stanza where the child asks the question “Don’t you remember me?” to the officer, there is no reply. This imbalance where the child is denied the basic right to ask questions shows how little control the child has, and how disrespectful the officer is being, disregarding both the initial reply of the child to the first question, and then ignoring the child’s own question. There is also clear irony where the officer calls the child a “man”, when they are clearly just thirteen, which further shows the illogical nature of discrimination in how the child had clearly done nothing wrong, but the officer felt like prosecuting the innocent child due to his own prejudice. This idea of disrespect is further shown by the hyperbole where the two men would supposedly “cast lots for your organs”. This hyperbole shows elements of dehumanisation within discrimination, further showing the poet’s intentions on trying to prove that discrimination does not belong in our society. This line also sheds light on the cruel enjoyment some people gain out of discrimination, to which the poet challenges this harsh exploitation of people being discriminated against.
Overall, the poet presents discrimination as an act that does not belong in our society, by using references to space, as well as highlighting the damaging, long-term effects it can have on people.

Ahh! Literary devices,
A poet’s best friend.
But as a reader, seeing them
bores me, especially since they never end.
​
Let’s start off with the basics.
The ones everyone learnt in school.
Having to suffer hell on earth.
Really, only English teachers think they are cool.
​
First, our best-est friend, similes
Boring, like watching paint dry.
And oh, his brother metaphor.
Seeing him makes me say goodbye.
​
Alliteration, welcome, right-on time.
Poets should say ‘Sorry, such stupidity I surely shan’t repeat.’
Repetition would be so much a better pick,
He’s always unused, always ignored, always silent, always discreet.
​
Antithesis, Tautology, also never used.
Boys and Girls, come learn about this sublime, noble pair.
They are far better than personification, I assure,
Hearing it, the winds too howl in despair.
​
Oxymorons and paradoxes, rebel twins,
The one rule, ignoring all rules, they break.
I distinctly remember to forget the existence of puns
God! From all this sappy, romantic-era poems, I need a break.
​
Hyperbole and Euphemism,
Millions love these twins.
Unfortunately, often ignorance causes them to pass away,
While daddy/mommy poet sardonically grins.
​
And another set of neglected twins, anaphora and epistrophe
And they argue and argue and quarrel.
They only stop quarreling, if someone else interrupts their quarrel.
Living with them makes one nigh immoral.
​
Synecdoche, Transferred epithet,
They problem children, who feel that the world is out to get them.
Don’t look at them with such concerned eyes.
All they do is cater to their own whim.
​
Rhyme scheme! Don’t get me started.
Should be ABAB, no ABCB,
Poets, keep this crap to yourself,
As long as it fits the theme, let the words run free!
​
This is the family,
Of literary devices (Oh! Look a runoff line).
Dysfunctional as it is, it will never change.
My advice? Always talk to them after a glass of wine.
===X=X=X===
Feedback Appreciated.
​
a. https://www.reddit.com/OCPoetry/comments/12ep9tm/comment/jfciveo/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3
b. https://www.reddit.com/OCPoetry/comments/12ec3lu/comment/jfadwua/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3

STUDIES ON HUMOR IN THE ZHUANGZI
In one of the now classic studies on humor in ancient China, David R. Knechtges (1970–1971, 80) summarizes what may have been at the time a widespread scholarly view about a relative lack of humor in ancient Chinese texts: “It has been observed more than once that humor does not occupy a prominent place in traditional Chinese literature.” Toward the end of his essay, Knechtges concludes that, while indeed some humorous texts or passages can be identified in ancient China, “most of early Chinese humor is essentially didactic and moralistic” (95). In comparison with this rather unexciting estimation, Knechtges’s view on the Zhuangzi is quite remarkable: he writes that this “entire work is made up of a series of incongruities strung together in the aimless manner of sustained humor” (97). It seems that Knechtges felt slightly uncomfortable with conceding such a dissonance between the strikingly humoristic features of the Zhuangzi and the “essentially didactic and moralistic” humor anywhere else in ancient China, so he thought it better to surmise cautiously that Zhuangzi was probably just a madman with a “fondness for the bizarre and unconventional,” whose humor was “unintentional” and a mere “by-product” of a strange imagination (97).
Knechtges was by no means the first to ascribe exceptionality to the Zhuangzi as a humoristic work in ancient China. In 1932, Lin Yutang published an influential essay called “On Humor” (Lun youmo 論幽默) in which he commended the spiritual merits of humor in the world in general and China in particular. He identified various humorous traditions in ancient China and labeled Daoism (mostly referring to Laozi and Zhuangzi) as the “humorous faction” in the history of Chinese thought, as opposed to the “orthodox faction” of Confucianism (Sample 2011, 174; see also Liu Jianmei 2016, 106–11). Among the Daoists, he singled out Zhuangzi as “the father of Chinese humor” (Sample 2011, 173). He thereby seems to have set the tone for similar judgments, such as a more recent one by Xiao Dong Yue (2010, 403), who states that Zhuangzi “is recognized as the very first humorist in China.” As a rule, most contemporary interpreters of the Zhuangzi grant that it is an often witty text that uses humor among many other literary tools. Eske Møllgard (2007, 6), for instance, affirms that the Zhuangzi “employs prose poems, fables, satire, song, fictitious dialogue, spiritual exercise, didactic verse, aphorisms, and a number of literary genres we have still not identified and understood.”
While statements of this kind abound in the literature—both academic and popular—devoted to the Zhuangzi, in-depth studies on its use of humor as either a literary or a philosophical device are more difficult to find. Nonetheless, one attempt to assess the philosophical function of humor in the Zhuangzi was made by Erik Schwitzgebel (1996). According to Schwitzgebel, humor in the Zhuangzi has the therapeutic function of making its readers capable of taking truth claims or assertions of facts less seriously and thus allows them to adopt a more flexible attitude toward pronouncements in language. He says that Zhuangzi simply “would like to see us take what people have to say less seriously” so that we are “willing to play around with it in a disrespectful way for humorous or other ends” (70–71). We sympathize with this view, particularly since it echoes our point that its similarity to play is a philosophically relevant aspect of humor, but also because it resonates with our claim that humor dissolves moral seriousness and empties out meaning. Perhaps the most comprehensive attempt to analyze humor in the Zhuangzi from a literary studies perspective has been presented by Youru Wang (2003). In Linguistic Strategies in Daoist Zhuangzi and Chan Buddhism: The Other Way of Speaking, Wang adopts a deconstructionist perspective and deals specifically with “denegation” (i.e., negating and self-negating language such as the “negation of all polarities and double negation” [153]), paradox, and irony in the Zhuangzi, all of which he ties to the Zhuangzi’s self-ascribed use of the much-discussed “goblet words” (zhi yan卮言; for interesting discussions of this elusive term, see Wang Bo 2004; Fried 2007; Morrow 2016).3 According to Youru Wang (2003, 153), “the Zhuangzian denegation disagrees with the Derridean interpretation of denegation.… This Derridean interpretation still falls into a negation privileged over affirmation. Zhuangzi does not privilege negativity over positivity.” Instead, Wang believes that denegation as found in the Zhuangzi expresses a playful toying with the relation between language and the ineffable, while uses of paradox illustrate “the dynamic convergence of various opposites.” He thus links humorous rhetorical techniques to philosophical interpretations of the indirect “strategies of communication” (see Kupperman 1989) and “antirationalism” (see Carr and Ivanhoe 2000) found in the Zhuangzi. Wang (2003, 158) concludes, “When the use of denegation or paradox brings about self-negation or self-contradiction in an unanticipated manner, especially when it occurs in a form of self-mockery or self-ridicule, it involves irony.” In short, for Wang, irony emerges as the major humoristic device in the Zhuangzi and, philosophically speaking, it “calls into serious question any logocentric or metaphysical closure in a frivolous or humorous way” (159). Lee Yearley (2005) has also presented some ideas on “Zhuangzi’s kinds of language” and, like Youru Wang, combines a literary analysis with philosophically relevant conclusions. Unlike Wang, though, he does not use a deconstructionist conceptual framework. His intention is to interpret Zhuangzi as a religious ethicist who uses “literary devices like satire or parody” (516; another interpretation of Zhuangzi as a religious ethicist is presented in Lee 2014) to convey a spiritual message and to call for moral self-reflection. According to Yearley (2005, 516), these humorous devices in the Zhuangzi are intended to provoke “hermeneutical crises that have spiritual implications” for readers so that they will eventually be forced to “evaluate their own spiritual maturity.”
From a different philosophical perspective, James D. Sellmann (1998, 165) ascribes a transformative “mystical” meaning to humorous language in the Zhuangzi. He affirms that “storytelling, irony, jokes, even a simple pun—all of the elements that make up comedy, laughter, and forgetting … are the literary devices employed in the Zhuangzi.” Influenced by Kuang-ming Wu’s (1990) approach to the Zhuangzi and partially reminiscent of Robert E. Allinson’s (1989) reading of the text as a guide for “spiritual transformation,” Sellmann further argues that through such devices the Zhuangzi shows “how one must awaken to ‘transformation’ and ‘humor’ by beginning to live the life that affirms one’s own personal mutation” (172).
With fewer philosophical (but more historical and philological) ambitions than Wang, Yearley, or Sellmann, Shirley Chan (2011) has made an attempt at “identifying Daoist humor.” While her specific focus is on the Liezi列子, much of what she says is also applicable to the Zhuangzi, since several of the textual examples she discusses appear in both texts. Chan, too, pays attention to specific literary devices and points to “metaphor, exaggeration, hyperbole and reductio ad absurdum” (87). Interestingly, she connects both the Liezi and the Zhuangzi with the ancient Chinese category of “huaji-ists,” or “humorists,” who, as Knechtges (1970–1971, 82) remarks, “were considered important enough for Sima Qian to compile a monograph on them in his Records of the Historian [Shiji史記].” They were “jesters at the courts of the Warring States kings and Han emperors” (83) and spoke “wittily and relevantly to persuade their lords to accept their advice” (Shirley Chan 2011, 75). Knechtges (1970–1971, 83) states that huaji滑稽 “in the early period meant something like a ‘smooth talker.’ ” The term’s connotations were not necessarily positive, and so it makes sense that Chan reads the expression huaji猾稽 as huaji滑稽, or “humorists,” in an interesting statement made in the Shiji’s biography of Xunzi 荀子. In Chan’s reading, this statement has Xunzi dismissing Zhuangzi as someone “who attacked Confucian social conventions by being a humorist” (huaji luan su滑稽亂俗 [Chan 2011, 232n11; see Shiji 74.11]).
The anti-Confucian trajectory of many of the humoristic passages in the Zhuangzi is discussed in further detail in a more recent essay by Katrin Froese (2014). Froese notes that Confucius is not only sympathetically depicted as a spokesperson for Daoism at times but also ambiguously “at the receiving end of so much biting satire” in the Zhuangzi (310). Although Froese does not explicitly refer to Henri Bergson—whose interesting but unfortunately now-ignored theory of humor assumes that laughter results from perceiving something human as nonhuman, as mechanistic or lifeless (Bergson 1924)—she identifies the function of anti-Confucian humor in the Zhuangzi very much in Bergsonian terms. According to her, the Zhuangzi mocks the at times “mechanist” Confucian attitude to ritual. She writes, “For the Daoist, ritual, when held up against the spontaneous and yet harmonious movement of nature, will always be comic because it is mechanistic, artificial, and forced” (Froese 2014, 210). In the context of a collaborative comparative study on Kierkegaard and Zhuangzi (Carr and Ivanhoe 2000), P. J. Ivanhoe has discussed humor in the Zhuangzi by testing the text against the humor theory of D. H. Monro (1963), which preceded the present standard accounts by Morreall and others. Ivanhoe “ticks all the boxes” and attests that the Zhuangzi contains forms of humor that are compatible with any theory tracing humor back to “feelings of superiority, incongruity, ambivalence, or relief from inhibition or restraint” (Carr and Ivanhoe 2000, 136). Besides proving the Zhuangzi’s humorous versatility and its capacity to live up to contemporary humor theories, Ivanhoe is particularly keen on defending Zhuangzi against any accusations of using humor in a morally suspicious way. For this purpose he suggests a strict distinction between the good-humored, authentic Zhuangzi who speaks in the Inner Chapters and the inauthentic falsifiers of him present in the Outer Chapters. He believes that “it is not too strong a claim to say that sections of the text that criticize Kongzi [Confucius] himself in a severe and malicious way are immediately suspect as the work of late pretenders to Zhuangzi’s mantle.” He specifically points to “the ‘Robber Zhi’ chapter,” which he takes to “have been confidently identified as of rather late origin” (11). In the same vein, he categorically states that “one does not find the mocking humor of the assassin in the authentic parts of the text” (138).
Ivanhoe establishes a stark moral contrast between the mild, ethically instructive, and restricted humor of the genuine Zhuangzi on the one hand and, on the other, the “malicious” “humor of the assassin” of the “pretenders to Zhuangzi’s mantle.” Apparently he assumes that there is a kind of “devil in disguise” hidden in some parts of the book and thinks that the conscientious reader should beware of it. Perhaps Ivanhoe’s drastic good/evil and authentic/inauthentic distinction is due to an influence of the long history of the moralistic “traditional rejection of humor” documented by Morreall (2009). Ivanhoe’s distinction between good and evil humor in the Zhuangzi echoes the “moral fear” that has haunted philosophical and religious condemnations of humor for centuries in both East and West. It is therefore not surprising that it resurfaces in some of the literature on humor, including literature on the humor of the Zhuangzi. Accordingly, Ivanhoe is not the only one to judge Zhuangzi’s humor morally; other authors, too, make an effort to identify an ethically clean humor in the Zhuangzi that is free from immoral or harmful traits. Lee Yearley (2005, 516), for example, writes, “Zhuangzi’s humor rarely, however, just distances in a way that allows us to feel superior.” Youru Wang (2003, 158) finds (inoffensive) irony in the Zhuangzi but not (offensive) sarcasm, saying that irony “differs from sarcasm, because sarcasm laughs at the hearer.” Lin Yutang points out that Daoists “could have become cynical and disgusted with the world, but by arriving at cynicism and disgust, they would have lost an essential element of true humor” (Sample 2011, 175).
Unlike some of the authors quoted in the preceding, but in line with newer humor theories, we reject the traditional superiority perspective on humor that tends to find unchecked laughter morally suspicious. In our opinion, the ascription of such ethically negative attributes to humor results from a moralistic prejudice against humor. We intend to argue instead from an amoral perspective beyond good and evil that looks at humor as being, among many other things, a way to escape moral fear and not as a dangerous rhetorical device that, if not properly reined in and cleansed, will serve to assert one’s superiority over others. We have therefore made our preceding sketch of several characteristics of a Daoist theory of humor in response to a not uncommon impression among readers of the Zhuangzi addressed by Brook Ziporyn (2009, viii): “Profound comedians have always been hard to come by; funny philosophers perhaps even more so. To enter into this work attributed to Zhuangzi is to find oneself roused and enraptured by its intellectual and spiritual depth, but also by its provocative humor.” What we intend to do is make sense of the provocative humor of the Zhuangzi within a philosophical framework. This framework looks at Daoist humor, on the one hand, as a subversive reaction to the impossible existential demands of an ethical regime of sincerity and, on the other hand, as a way of experiencing the playful pleasure, effortless skillfulness, and childlike sanity of a genuine pretender.
From: TOWARD A DAOIST THEORY OF HUMOR
Book: HANS-GEORG MOELLER & PAUL J. D’AMBROSIO GENUINE PRETENDING ON THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE ZHUANGZI COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY PRESS New York

Here's how to get an A-A* from an A student.
English is really easy as long as you know how to answer the questions. I recommend binge-watching IGSCES SUCESS, watching a video on how to do the writer effect questions, the summary questions, and to know the features of all the text types before taking the exam (if you have time, I also recommend watching his full walkthrough), and if you know how to speak good English, it's an easy A or A* (I got a high A because of him) with zero practise.
However, English Language Paper 2 can be difficult...
Descriptive writing: the most common mistake I see students make is that they start off with a good descriptive essay but turn it into a narrative. Just make sure your essay has NO EVENTS, you can have events, but they have to have no meaning. That could be hard to do, and you don't get marks for it anyways, so I suggest not having any events such as, "I rode a bike and saw..." This is an event. I also advise that you plan what you are going to write. Once you get your prompt, you should list things you can write about the prompt. eg., if your prompt is "write about a dark forest," you can say "cackling birds" "howling in the distance" "dead trees" etc
Some features to include are sensory details: what you see, hear, smell, and taste should form the basis of your descriptive writing. To add more flair to it, you should use literacy devices such as metaphors, personification, hyperbole, alliteration, long and short sentences, repetition, etc. Another method I also like to use is the one-word or phrase paragraph, as it can make your scene more tense.
After the literacy devices, you need to use physiological and psychological details. Physiological details would be things that happen to your body when experiencing your senses, such as "my body is as cold as ice" or "my hairs raise up like an undead army" (don't use too much as the examiner may be super strict and classify it as an event). Psychological details would be emotions that you are feeling, like you could say, "I couldn’t understand what was happening."
I don’t suggest writing a narrative unless you have to; this is because you have very limited time to write a story and your story needs to be fleshed out in order for it to be good, as you need to have character development, the hero's journey, the introduction to other characters, etc. (Unless you can write 6 pages in like an hour, I don’t suggest writing one), but it is up to personal preference. I got an A by just writing two pages for my descriptive writing, and I got an A by writing 6 pages for the narrative.
English literature is supposedly one of the hardest to get an A or A* in, but it really comes with practise, unlike English.
You need to nail the structure and know the books, plays, and poems inside out; (if you don't, then you might need to do the extract questions so you can't choose, which might be a major disadvantage). Some techniques for studying are to create summary notes about what happens in each chapter or act, add quotes from that chapter and analyse them.
You need to be able to write fast and a lot. Your English teachers may say quality is best, but there are actually studies from Cambridge showing that the more words you write, the more likely it is to get a higher grade (obv this doesn’t apply to everyone, you may only write 200 words and still get a decent grade), but people that wrote 700+ words were MORE LIKELY to get in the A-A* range, but obviously quality still matters. You can't just write a load of nonsense (700 words is about 2-3 pages), and you need to write all of that in under 45 minutes. so good luck!
Here is the recipe for how to make a good English lit essay. Thank me later (this can also be applied to any other essay you will write for any English lit assignment). You also DO NOT NEED to use this method to get a good grade, but it is a good way if you don't know how. Skip this bit if you already know how

An introduction to an incredibly unique journey conducted by Destiny:
An effort post that's very long and a [Throwback], with a lot of edits to clean it up.
Highlight video of the StarCraft 2 achievement hunt.
Full Playlist of the event. Parts 3 to 5 of Wings of Liberty are missing :( Thanks to SomeChannelName/FrostDev for uploading the StarCraft 2 achievement hunt archive.
Alternative playlist of the event, with a little bit more of Wings of Liberty and a 30 minute post-achievement reflection. (Disclaimer: I made this playlist).
Link to the spreadsheet made during the event. NOW THAT'S A THROWBACK. Thanks to BaloSaar for updating it back in the day and for keeping it up. You may also notice that there is a gnome at the top and bottom of the spreadsheet, a showcase of the early 2018 roots of the meme within the DGG community. The list of competitors, in order of 100% completion, are Destiny, Winter, Neuro, Catz, Nathanias, UpATreeZelda, MsSpyte, and Incontrol.
TL;DR: The 2018 StarCraft 2 achievement hunt streams would be caught in the midst of Destiny's slow departure from a few elements of his initial style of streaming, where he was known as "Nebraska Steve". He would transition from his Let's Plays into his current talk show/just chatting streams. Also, he might still be the #1 Brutal difficulty, 100% StarCraft 2 trilogy achievement speedrunner. Ultimately, the hunt is amongst the most unique streams Steven has ever done, and one of the most unique streams outright done in the history of the medium. A high-octane marathon that few could match. An estimated 40 hours of sleepless streaming while attaining difficult challenges. No dreams, only memes.
If you enjoy modern day Destiny, you will enjoy 2018 Destiny as much, or even more than his current style. I consider 2018 Destiny to not only be the current blueprint for the modern style of his streams, but the peak of the modern style and I strongly encourage any new and modern-day viewers to visit that era. The 2015-2018 streams are so high quality relative to the streaming landscape then and now, that this era is worth visiting to be familiar with what a great stream looks like and where the modern style is derived from. If you would like to know where to start with the old streams, just ask me and I'll try my best or take a look at a giant (formerly small) list of DGG archives I made. (Disclaimer: I made this list)
To address why I am reposting & updating this from the fourth anniversary post (no one asked):

1. Fifth anniversary sounds better than fourth anniversary. I (probably) won't post this for the sixth anniversary lul
   
2. I've learned more about the current and past streaming landscape since I first wrote this.
   
3. Destiny's past has gone largely unnoticed, especially by new viewers. What I mean by that is this: 2015-2018 Destiny was one of the highest quality streamers in the world. I believe the SC2 achievement hunt is one landmark reason why. Modern viewers should look at Destiny's old stuff, not only for the history of the stream and contextual background for a lot of modern memes, but for understanding what a high-quality, unique stream looks like. I have made a list of DGG archive channels to view the old memes.
   

Also, I promise this isn't a schizo post. I just really like the art of streaming, especially for Destiny's content, and I want to share that enthusiasm. I like judging & reviewing streams for fun ok, similar to how YourMovieSucks reviews films or your usual video essay writer reviewing some obscure game.
Side note: I use variety streamer and Let's Player somewhat interchangeably. YouTube clips are not used, with good or bad effect.
One last thing - it's unfortunate that old stream memes on the main channel, like the Destiny I tournament and old playthroughs, like Dark souls III and DOOM (2016), have been unlisted. If possible, it would be cool to see them unlisted on a public playlist or uploaded on a spare channel of some sort, thank you.
[Serious discussion] & a Wall of text below
The legend of the hunt and the history surrounding it:
Today is March 12th, the anniversary of the StarCraft 2 achievement hunt, a marathon which ended on March 15th. Five years have passed since then. Time flies, life changes. This hunt is truly one of the most unique streams Destiny has ever done. In the widespread streaming landscape, the hunt may be comparable to major, innovative streams like Jerma's Dollhouse, green screen, or Baseball game.
This StarCraft 2 (SC2) achievement hunt is the epitome of how hardcore Destiny can be as a gamer. This hunt alone might make Destiny the #1 Brutal difficulty, 100% SC2 trilogy achievement speedrunner, even to this day. Correct me if I'm wrong on that. In fact, correct me if I'm wrong on anything here as I don't follow the stream much nowadays and I might not have the most thorough knowledge of DGG history.
Destiny stayed up for multiple nights to win $10,000, ending with a lead slightly over 12 hours ahead of the similarly hardcore competition. This feat of endurance mixed with perseverance, which is certainly unhealthy, is one that he hasn't matched after. In the aftermath, Steven would donate $500 to Neuro and Winter, respectively. He also lost five pounds of the course of the hunt as he did not eat very much. One of the strategies for perseverance was also mentioned whilst playing the hunt - doing each mission on Brutal on the way through, no returns to past missions. On top of all this, this is a very comfy, yet brief, Terraria stream.
I consider the SC2 achievement hunt to be among his best and most significant streams, not just for the aforementioned endeavors, but because it is within the epicenter of a stylistic change in streaming. One might say it was influential and predictive in hindsight. I say all of this even though Destiny does not convey a plethora of substantial commentary throughout the hunt, although you might get abrupt remarks as a replacement. It is for that reason, with a note that may seem contradictory, that I don't really recommend a typical viewer to watch the entire series. At its fusion core, this is just SC2 gameplay with commentary that slowly tapers off, for an understandable reason, of course. I recommend watching this if you enjoy long form variety streams/SC2 without any immediate commentary, and if your musical taste allows for an external, repeating playlist in the background.
As it would turn out, the SC2 achievement streams gave a glimpse into Destiny's modern style of streaming. I would almost argue that the entity known as "Nebraska Steve" shortly departed after this event. That would be an exaggeration, but perhaps not from the point of view of a stream purist, so to speak.
There is a long streak of 2017 and 2018 streams which preview the current style of streaming from late 2018 to today. Starting with Nier: Automata, all the way to the start of the Hollow Knight streams. This range of streams is wide, although, as many know now, they're usually broken up by stretches of League streams. To give an idea of the time span for this range of streams, he started his Nier playthrough on December 18th, 2017 and finished it on February 4th, 2018. Hollow Knight was played and finished late September 2018.
Additionally, Destiny would start to IRL stream much more during this period as well. The Seattle streams were the first major IRL arc where IRL was the focus of an event over multiple days, if I recall correctly. By extension, he would go on to do the Idaho trip with one of his Discord mods, Khare, (with a Total Biscuit shoutout RIP), E3, and Nevada trip with Devin. Then make the choice to move to Los Angeles for IRL opportunities and so on. On top of this, the first dedicated YouTube and Hasan streams would occur. The 2018 YouTube streams are one of the major blueprints for Destiny’s modern style of streaming. The 2018 YouTube arc put the current style as the main focus for the future of DGG content and into full speed.
Apparently, this sort of IRL content, especially of the restaurant kind, was not planned back in 2016. Moreover, Destiny is one of the earliest IRL, cooking (if anyone remembers the hash brown (and egg?) stream), music, painting, and Just Chatting (alongside politics) broadcasters. Not to mention, the other innovations Destiny has introduced into the broadcasting scene, including his website and text-to-speech notifications. Furthermore, he's not just influential in breaking the bounds of how we think about streaming, but in promoting the quality of the live broadcast.
Destiny's political ventures started to shine more around this point of time. The December 31st, 2017 5v1 debate was an immense event and way to end the year, the one day where Destiny definitively dominated LivestreamFail.
Following that event, notable memer Micspam took up a conversation with Destiny advising him to stay away from debates with online personalities who don't care for serious debate and focus on more serious analysis. Around the same stream session, Destiny mentioned he would take a break from debates and was exhausted after going all out on the 5v1. Following this was a brief comment on taking a vacation, perhaps an indication of the upcoming IRL streams that year.
Similarly, there has been at least one notable, recent post and comment asking Destiny to revisit politics. Assuming Destiny really is taking a step back from politics and focusing on drama nowadays, I can't help but feel that history is rhyming with itself here, maybe just a little bit, you tell me. (By the way, this isn't exactly why I am a micspam fan.)
Going back to Nier, this playthrough demonstrates the type of Let's Play that Destiny was known for. It's very typical, however it has Destiny's token tenacity represented, as he plays the entire game on the hardest difficulty. There are periods where Destiny goes on long back and forth discussions with his chatroom. Generally, there are few outside interruptions. There are calls with BadBunny during the first sessions of the game, but they aren't completely interjecting the main event nor are they entirely sudden. Nier is still the focus and BadBunny was collaborating with Destiny in a way.
Hollow Knight is similar, but with a twist. The Hollow Knight vods exist but are fragmented. The main channel only has highlights, but are indicative of the trend the stream would take. This Let's Play would have markedly a different atmosphere than the Nier playthrough. Hollow Knight would show Destiny taking Discord calls and debates while playing (LOUD VOLUME WARNING). Here's a call about debate prep. A debate about Sam Harris. Another Sam Harris debate. This is likely the first time he's done these non-viewer conversations on a regular basis while doing a Story-based, single-player Let's Play.
Furthermore, Destiny initially started They Are Billions as a playthrough with only himself and the chatroom. In fact, this game was teased to be played during the SC2 achievement hunt. Soon after, Devin Nash, known for various antics, would commence what was a six hour call. Although I've demonstrated a sort of animosity towards call-ins, I feel this one is truly unique for a couple of reasons. Obviously, it is six hours long, this has to be one of his longest conversations in the history of the stream, up there with the XJ9 journey. Secondly, it very likely led to Devin rooming with Destiny for a short time in Nebraska, which is one of the few instances where an outside personality collaborates with him in this way. The takeaway is that this is a definite call-in that was caught in the middle of a variety gaming stream. I also consider the Devin Nebraska streams to be creative and unconventional across the broadcasting scene as a whole.
The trend of calls during Let's Plays, especially during Hollow Knight, arguably started gaining traction during the SC2 hunt. From what I could find, Destiny took at least 1 call from YourPrincess (whom I learned this sub now dislikes), very much akin to his call on the last episode of his Nier playthrough. Those calls by YourPrincess might have snowballed into open calls and then further to the modern environment of Destiny's stream. Admittedly, this is likely a massive oversimplification as other events have had minor sudden call-ins or brief periods of react content, but I can't recall online personalities going in and out of calls with Destiny during the Nier Let's Play or in earlier story-based, single-player playthroughs of Final Fantasy XV and The Last of Us. So I predict that it's around early 2018, around this arc, that ignited open calls and other external media during Let's Plays. If it wasn't the SC2 achievement hunt, then it might have been They Are Billions or Nier, another variety stream I've yet to recall, or the gradual diffusion of call-ins from games like League of Legends and Factorio to variety gaming. As always, correct me if I'm wrong. Additionally, you've now seen the basic origins for modern, background stream games like Factorio and They Are Billions linked. Although, that's not the actual first Factorio stream.
There are small exceptions to Steven's old style of content that come to mind: his XCOM 2, Dark Souls III, and DOOM (2016) playthroughs, for example. Although the discussions from those Let's Plays were improvised with stream viewers, which meant that this was a more in-depth way of engaging his community as opposed to outside guests, and did not show a trend of sudden (open) calls or dominant talk shows within the next streak of Steve's 2016-2017 Let's Plays. This resulted in an uncommon style of variety gaming that I haven't seen put into action since. Variety gaming streamers of many sorts will never do this. An impressive innovation in communicating with a community that has gone under the radar, unnoticed beyond the DGG faction, and a natural evolution of Steven's streaming style.
From Hollow Knight and on, Destiny would have outside calls, videos, or talk shows occasionally cross over while doing a story-based, single-player Let's Play. Not to mention, these have been consistently found on stream as his main style of content for a few years now. Subnautica is an early example of this, including the sports debate if anyone remembers this one, as the VOD does not seem to exist. Frostpunk is a possible example as it was the background game where MrMouton summoned Destiny for a rap battle. Cyberpunk 2077, Sekiro, and the recent DOOM Eternal DLC are recent examples that come to mind.
NOTE: the vault has made its videos private to keep the channel up, so some of these VODs are unavailable - I will leave the links here anyway.
His Let's Plays would also become increasingly more uncommon. I like to think that the SC2 hunt was so intense that it burned him out on doing the usual type of Let's Play regularly since then. Similar to stepping away from debates after the December 31st, 2017 5v1.
Side note: one interesting thing about the SC2 hunt is that it's hard to classify it. Is it primarily a story-based, single-player Let's Play like Witcher 3? Or more like a playthrough of a management or simulation game like Factorio? A multiplayer session of SC2 without direct competition? A tournament? Speedrun? Maybe it's all of them? Destiny has taken calls while playing multiplayer SC2 before, but I think it's fair to say that external call-ins, especially by guests who are not involved with the game, are rare in all of these single-player genres of playthroughs throughout the space of gaming content.
Additionally, the SC2 hunt has external music in the background, which is similar to Steven's streams with ARPGs like Path of Exile, MOBAs, and perhaps MMOs like OSRS. Even stream games that other variety gamers play, like Rimworld, which are usually silent or accompanied by the original soundtrack if you view other variety gamers like Vinny of Vinesauce, VargskelethoJoel of Vinesauce, or Northernlion, have had music requests on Destiny's side. Overall, an atmosphere like the SC2 hunt can allow for tunes in the background, even if I'm not a big fan of them. For certain games, there's definitely an ambiguous rule of thumb whether or not external music is allowed while it's played.
Highlights/mildly entertaining comments from the SC2 hunt:
Doesn't have every possible highlight, but this section has some stuff that caught my interest.
Reddit:
A thread predicting the tournament standings
A thread declaring Destiny the victor
WOL:
Destiny hums that one sax song, Confessions part 3, at one point. I wrote about the meaning of this song being on stream for some reason, wow
Comments on YouTube growth and HDStarCraft
Comments on marriage (sequel to Nier)
Comments on streaming platforms (including YouTube)
Comments on Core audience
fast vehicle not important but an interesting observation idk
what this stream means to a viewer. I really do think streams can help us push forward in some way. Great response by Steven too.
HOTS:
Donator goes crazy
Comments on his initial thoughts going into the hunt
Responding to an affectionate donator
Stealing speedrun strats
On avoiding sleep
LOTV:
A spur of intense competition followed by DANKMEMES
Top 3 control
quick meme
YEE boi
nice meme
The void ray
like watching league of legends
chefs kiss
Epilogue:
vacation comments return
an oddly honest answer
Nathan sends a donation
an old meme
a name chanting ritual with destiny watching himself for some reason
Hallucinations on par with Huk's void rays
A speedrunning crossover
The throwback
a dual BM response to Raynor
the early roots of THE meme
a big dono before the last run
a brief return to reality
available for the eu region
The aftermath:
dream's end
a look back
a very familiar shoutout
reaction test
and the rest is the outro, with interesting bits. It would be redundant to link them.
oh, and there were a ton of donations throughout the hunt asking him to play League :)
Why all of this matters:
This all brings me to say that Destiny, when the conditions are right, is up there with the finest variety streamers on the internet. This is in consideration of his stream production, gameplay, and community engagement. This is also in observation of Steven's colossal, genre-defining, and foundational innovations throughout the 2010s compared to his advancements in the last few years. In my opinion, all of these factors have changed over time, from the 2015 streams to now. And yes, this is even considering his Wolfenstein II and Undertale playthrough. The SC2 achievement hunt, after all, was near the eye of the storm when these aspects of the stream underwent a slow transformation.
I find that it's hard to get those conditions to be right nowadays. As calls with extra personalities, or external media can take away from reflecting on the events on stream/game being played, prevents extensive engagement with chat, and can end up with too much extra fluff to pay attention to, which becomes quite intrusive. Not just for Let's Plays, but in general. Aris/AvoidingThePuddle explains this very well here. Northernlion also has a lengthier commentary on this sort of thing and a comedic take on certain stream games. 2016 Destiny briefly touches on having groups on stream, as well. However, I would be receptive to the argument that a community teamspeak is different from the talk show and react format that is usually seen in recent times.
That's not to say that groups/duos can't work. I do think duos/groups like Slowbeef and Diabetus of Retsupurae; Woolie and Reggie; the Super Best Friends being Matt, Pat, and Woolie; Northernlion with his friends, and AdumPlaze (AKA YourMovieSucks/YMS) with his crew can work though. But these duos/groups are usually focused on the game or on making the stream more entertaining, whereas the calls on stream are broad in topic. I would like to highlight that Adum and his friends, including Scoots and LW, can provide some of the most interesting commentary, through a black comedy lens, out there.
With that said, the Halo co-op Let's Plays with MrMouton are pretty good and many past streams with Kyle are vintage ^{Here's a timestamp with me chatting in another old kyle video, so you know I'm a boomer}. This is written in remembrance of a lot of co-op opportunities that have perished over the years due to neglected bridges, RIP. Side note, it would also be cool to see Destiny revisit 2020 playthroughs with Final Fantasy VII Remake or Doom Eternal on the hardest difficulty.
I'd like to quickly note that although there's a focus on variety streaming within this essay, I also believe that the old style in past chatting videos like this snack review, tips for not getting mad, this promotional clip, or the search for boobie streamers are some of the greatest videos Destiny has ever done with a cheeky sense of comedy that's rare to find for current content. Other brief comments are great too like this one describing Chanman with Reckful nearby or in this BlizzCon video with TaKeTV. Sometimes there were odd adventures with computer problems and learning piano or entire videos dedicated to breakfast foods. The old IRL stuff wasn't that bad too, when it was at PAX East, a bank although this one isn't headlined by Steven, but rather by Erisann, Seattle, or in the Seattle sequel.
Dynamic moments (VOLUME WARNING) like this single kill, double kill, or this quad kill stand out as a mixture of hype and hilarity.
Seriously, this is all on par with some of the best streamers in terms of improvisational commentary. Examples like these are why I personally believe the old style surpasses the modern style for variety and chatting streams. There's another comedic video I'd really like to show off, but it was (very likely) unlisted due to low viewership, if anyone really wants to see it, I'll send a link.
Finally, this is my favorite Destiny video of all time. I earnestly believe this is his greatest video on the entire channel and in the history of his craft. My second favorite of his video catalogue being the snack review.
In recent times, Destiny has put aside his Let's Plays for talk shows, which is expected. Steven did bring talk shows very much into the meta of Twitch, it's a large part of his legacy as he is a top arbiter of the Just Chatting style. Yet, I can't help but feel that the old style of variety streaming was sacrificed for this style of talk show/just chatting streams.
I feel that it's not hyperbole when I say that his departure from the variety streaming realm is akin to the Super Best Friends breaking up or Vinny taking a break from streaming. I genuinely feel that the internet has lost an impeccable Let's Player and an exemplary streamer from the departure of Nebraska Steve. As a result, I struggle to find a reason why I should watch modern Destiny over other exceptional streamers like Northernlion, Jerma, Aris/AvoidingThePuddle, Charborg, or one of Destiny's fellow friends - AdumPlaze. That would not be the case back in 2015-2018.
However, Destiny's contemporary content has been significantly popular, which means that there are many new viewers here who have the possible interest and opportunity to view all the hidden gems beneath Destiny's ancient material. I strongly encourage anyone who has managed to read this to revisit the relics of Destiny's past, and I can even try to provide recommendations to that effect. Destiny's old content remains as one of my largest influences to this day and has made me reflect on various subjects of the essential and inane sort. As an appreciator of the live medium, I still see the StarCraft 2 achievement hunt as a legendary stream across the entirety of the broadcasting scene. With all of that said, I hope those who enjoy him in the present-day enjoy him as much as I did back then.
A bonus meme for the DGG history nerds and a summary of the 2015-2018 DGG stream history and why it was the golden age of the stream:
Disclaimer: I have not regularly watched since mid 2020, but I keep up with the stream on occasion. I'm creating this post as a fan of the stream.
Weird bonus meme I thought of for some reason: There’s a secret myth about DestinyGG, unknown even to its creators. Since 2018, all chat logs for Twitch streams have been deleted. This is not the case for DGG logs. Buried under the years of recorded messages, laid upon DGG, lies one of the most inspirational poems ever written. Naturally crafted by successive, arbitrary lines of text from distinct users. The question is... is anyone willing to find it?
Summary:
TL;DR: 2015-2018 is great because 2015-2016 has streaming styles of high quality, to the point of being ahead of their time. 2017 is a massive innovation in streaming by Destiny introducing consistent political discussions. 2018 expanded on 2017 by expanding the settings Destiny can operate in, by setting the tone of streaming from 2019-2022, and has performed this style the most proficiently.
2015-2018 is the greatest period of Destiny's stream. Streams prior to 2014-2015 were pretty normal but, of course, there are memorable highlights, like the Destiny I tournament, from that period. However, there are not many long-form DGG VODs or videos of broad topics before 2015, unless you count a compilation of the individual SC2 games on RememberTomorrow0 as a replacement for a VOD. 2014 especially lacks widespread documentation.
2015: Destiny transitioned into variety gaming and immediately did it near flawlessly. His Witcher 3 playthrough showcases a mastery in streaming and in Let's Plays. On rare occasions, he takes part in political discussions while playing Witcher 3. Whatever happened in 2014 developed Destiny to become one of the best, if not the absolute best, variety streamers on arrival. Day Z, EVE Online, and CSGO might be the key to being a great variety gamer (it's not, but it's interesting to think it is).
2016: Destiny expands his sights on variety gaming mixed with unmatched community engagement and gradually implements political debates during them. Again, a master class in the fundamentals of streaming, while slowly cultivating a new style. This year is not the originator of stream debates, but does show when they would become more consistent.
2017: Destiny fully implements politics, amongst other discussions, into his stream and effectively revolutionizes how we think of gaming streams alongside politics. LSF dominance is present. Dungeons & Dragons also begins. Destiny's involvement in this year is the reason why political streamers today have a career. This is a degree of innovation that is on par with the crazy shenanigans Jerma985 creates. I can't think of anyone having Destiny's 2017 style of discussions + standard streaming before that year.
2017 Bonus - This year arguably has the most iconic composition challenge.
2018: Destiny expands his political ventures and goes into IRL. He does unique events like hanging out with Devin extensively, the SC2 achievement hunt, and the shroom trip. Talk shows and podcasts are done in full force - the beginnings of the Unfiltered podcast would lead to talk shows on PKA, Scuffed, with Luxxbunny and Natsumiii, and with imaqtpie and Scarra. Destiny interacts with his IRL guests, from Girlwithyellowspoon to Bad Bunny, with impeccable comedy or outright interesting interactions. YouTube streams define his content from this point on. His memes reach critical mass through hog squeezing and the gnome terror. Destiny briefly and unexpectedly reaches 8k viewers. I am not the most appreciative of Destiny 2018 style, but it's undeniable this year is full of influence and that he was hella smooth during this year.
(I know not everyone likes those aforementioned unique events, but they stand out nonetheless.)
The current style of Steven's stream, from this year to the modern day, originates from here and has stayed the course. A lot of modern conflict goes back to this year or earlier. I would argue that the current style of streaming was done best and exceptionally well back in 2018. The primary downside of every year is the presence of filler such as League of Legends and so on.
If you enjoy Destiny's stream now, you will enjoy his 2018 highlights. I encourage any modern viewer to take a look back at his old, phenomenal material. As always, I hope those who enjoy him now enjoy him as much as I did back then.
Thanks for reading.
memes
RIP Total Biscuit, Incontrol, and Reckful.

An opinion piece wrapped up with a call for debate/discussion.
I've often read stories or heard anecdotes from people who are very concerned about the future of A.I. and the whole concept of self-thinking machines. I tend to be the skeptic in these conversations.
I come from a rather limited background as an outside observer, mostly interacting with A.I. in the realms of chat-bots, gaming, and industrial robotics. I've been interacting with them primarily as a casually interested hobby for the better part of 20 years.
In my early days of interacting with A.I. in these fields, it was very simple logic algorithms (I'm not a programmer so forgive me for not using precise terminology). It basically goes something like "If user does x input, then perform y function. If x input = unknown variable, request correct y function." This is the basic formula for a simple chat-bot to build it's database.
In the case of chat-bots, some of the early ones I recall were the likes of ALICE. It used AIML (Artificial Intelligence Mark-up Language) to train it's A.I. database which was simply a Simple English method for retrieving stored responses. These early databases were self-contained to the program itself, it had no means of learning other than single user input.
Nowadays many chat-bots are much more advanced seemingly, but mostly due to the fact that they are no longer relying on a single user to input data, they can draw upon a huge network of interconnected users, as well as back-ends to other online databases to compile their knowledge-base. In addition their algorithms can use the same principles that modern marketing research does which builds a profile of a particular user's preferences to custom-tailor their responses to them. From a user experience this produces far more interesting results than a single-user database ever could. A.I. can write you an entire poem, or build you a program, because it's being trained by thousands upon thousands of users, and that level of redundancy removes a lot of the tedium from any one user to allow for a more productive or engaging experience.
On the gaming end, we've once again not seen much advancement, especially in the AAA front as big companies have seen that a focus on deeply intelligent systems doesn't yield as bigger a return as investment on audio/visual quality. A.I. on the indie front fares much better but is still a simple matter of player input -> response, with the only complexity being that bots can also react to each other in addition to the player. The advancement of processing power also has helped marginally as the game math is no longer bottlenecked at the CPU, and can layer more and more algorithms.
On the robotics front, we've seen a great leap forward in the quality of sensors and A/V input recognition. This basically just means that computers can now translate real-world input like scenes from a camera or a voice from a microphone into usable data like text strings. There's a multitude of algorithms that can be used by machines to translate image data, usually something along the lines of cross-referencing specific elements in an image (color data, picture similarity, object/shape recognition, etc.) with an existing database of known elements, further compounded by networks of users adding in redundancy (No, that's not a duck...)
All of this combines to say that most modern A.I. while still impressive, is built in the same ways as older A.I., it just has access to better toys. It now has the entire internet, improved CPUs, better sensors, more comprehensive software, and marketing research to provide a more robust end-user experience. In the end though while this all leads to "better A.I." it hardly seems to point towards a future of self-thinking hyper-intelligent machines.
A good analogue I like to use is viewing the source code for a website. If you look at the source code of a webpage coded 100% by hand, then just view one constructed like on a site like this or other social media you will notice an extreme difference in the level of complexity between the two, even though they both use the same basic functions that can be understood by anyone who knows the language (though a majority of the actual data on a social media site is not actually in the HTML).
Now some might say layered complexity = higher intelligence, and while I would say that is a component of it, it seems to be missing some core functionality of intelligence. A machine will always be able to outclass me in Chess, but it can't supersede the creative potential of lateral thought, thinking outside the box, or having a totally irrelevant thought detached from sensory input triggered by an experience. While none of that may be useful in modern A.I. applications, it certainly illustrates it's incapacity to replace the human experience wholesale, or to render thoughts of it's own independent of layers and layers of community-filtered information. It cannot go "rogue" as inefficient or imprecise strings are culled with no equivalent sense of self-preservation.
This of course comes from a very narrow-band perspective from a limited-experience hobbyist. There may be entire aspects of modern A.I. I've yet to encounter that do things well beyond the pale of what was previously seen. I've certainly heard such anecdotes that begin with the likes of "You won't believe the kind of stuff they are doing with A.I. now" and sure, the applications have grown immeasurably due to it's bigger toybox, but the hyperbole surrounding it's inevitable singularity still seems like a sci-fi pipe dream rather than something we're rapidly closing in on.

Follow the white rabbit.
I've been going down a lore rabbit hole since I finished Lightfall. I eventually started doing so in a branching, fragmented, looping twitter thread meant to both replicate the structure of Destiny's story and to convey the connections I was seeing through context rather than confusing explanations in my own words. In short, I believe Destiny's story is meant to be viewed as a sort of song or poem, with each verse being a rhyme of the last meant to give different meanings on the same core message through their seemingly disparate contexts. It is meant to invoke a sense of jamais vu (or maybe deja vu) when you begin to trace the ways events, archetypes, patterns of behavior, and other things repeat and repeat.
After a ton of previously mysterious lore started clicking, I came to the lore entry The Accolade. The Accolade contains multiple perspectives, some of them unclear and dreamlike. One even makes reference to what seems like a Tormentor.
In thinking about it, especially the passage about the "woman with gnarled hands and an aged face sat alone on a couch, basking in the dim glow of a Golden Age ruin," (who I now believe to be Savathun keeping watch over everything just after the First Collapse), I came to the poem The Waste Land, by TS Elliot.

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
Frisch weht der Wind
Der Heimat zu
Mein Irisch Kind,
Wo weilest du?
‘You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
‘They called me the hyacinth girl.’
—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
Oed’ und leer das Meer.

It is a very interesting poem that conveys a sense of horror through fragmented prose and perspectives that draws more on emotional resonance than intellectual understanding. Actual critics can explain it far better than I, but think of how this mirrors Destiny's unique storytelling style and the themes of fear, pain, and the sense of unknown we've been dealing with.

The style of the poem is marked by the many allusions and quotations from other texts (classic and obscure; "highbrow" and "lowbrow") that Eliot peppered throughout the poem. In addition to the many "highbrow" references and quotes from poets like Baudelaire, Dante Alighieri, Shakespeare, Ovid, and Homer, as well as Wagner's libretti, Eliot also included several references to "lowbrow" genres. A good example of this is Eliot's quote from the 1912 popular song "The Shakespearian Rag" by lyricists Herman Ruby and Gene Buck.[30] There were also a number of lowbrow references in the opening section of Eliot's original manuscript (when the poem was entitled He Do The Police in Different Voices), but they were removed from the final draft after Eliot cut this original opening section.[31]
The style of the work in part grows out of Eliot's interest in exploring the possibilities of dramatic monologue. This interest dates back at least as far as "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock". The Waste Land is not a single monologue like "Prufrock". Instead, it is made up of a wide variety of voices (sometimes in monologue, dialogue, or with more than two characters speaking).
The Waste Land is notable for its seemingly disjointed structure, indicative of the Modernist style of James Joyce's Ulysses) (which Eliot cited as an influence and which he read the same year that he was writing The Waste Land).[32] In the Modernist style, Eliot jumps from one voice or image to another without clearly delineating these shifts for the reader. He also includes phrases from multiple foreign languages (Latin, Greek, Italian, German, French and Sanskrit), indicative of Pound's influence.
In 1936, E. M. Forster wrote about The Waste Land:[33]
"Let me go straight to the heart of the matter, fling my poor little hand on the table, and say what I think The Waste Land is about. It is about the fertilizing waters that arrived too late. It is a poem of horror. The earth is barren, the sea salt, the fertilizing thunderstorm broke too late. And the horror is so intense that the poet has an inhibition and is unable to state it openly.
What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images.
He cannot say 'Avaunt!' to the horror, or he would crumble into dust. Consequently, there are outworks and blind alleys all over the poem—obstacles which are due to the nature of the central emotion, and are not to be charged to the reader. The Waste Land is Mr. Eliot's greatest achievement. It intensifies the drawing-room premonitions of the earlier poems, and it is the key to what is puzzling in the prose. But, if I have its hang, it has nothing to do with the English tradition in literature, or law or order, nor, except incidentally, has the rest of his work anything to do with them either. It is just a personal comment on the universe, as individual and as isolated as Shelley's Prometheus).
... Gerard Manly Hopkins is a case in point—a poet as difficult as Mr. Eliot, and far more specialized ecclesiastically, yet however twisted his diction and pietistic his emotion, there is always a hint to the layman to come in if he can, and participate. Mr. Eliot does not want us in. He feels we shall increase the barrenness. To say he is wrong would be rash, and to pity him would be the height of impertinence, but it does seem proper to emphasize the real as opposed to the apparent difficulty of his work. He is difficult because he has seen something terrible, and (underestimating, I think, the general decency of his audience) has declined to say so plainly."

Now read The Waste Land thinking about these parallels. Keep in mind the structure of the poem's sections and Destiny's use of the themes of death, games and chess, prophecy of the end times, and unheard truths spoken by the shape of nature itself.
I. The Burial of the Dead
II. A Game of Chess
III. The Fire Sermon
IV. Death by Water
V. What the Thunder Said
There is a horrible, secret truth to the Destiny universe that has driven Warlocks who have seen it mad, yet unable to explain what is it. Toland was Shattered by it. Someone is trying to explain it to us without us also Shattering.

I drive myself to the edge of madness trying to explain the truth.
It's so simple. Elegant like a knife point. It explains - this is not hyperbole, this is the farthest thing from exaggeration - EVERYTHING.
But you lay it out and they stare at you like you've just been exhaling dust. Maybe they're missing some underlying scaffold of truth. Maybe they are all propped on a bed of lies that must be burned away.
Why does anything exist?
Ghost Fragment - Darkness 3

After nine years, ya know what I realize?
Ignorance is blissa prisona trap.

Gotta review my Swans journey so far (TGM discussion begins at paragraph seven).
Honest to god it’s only been a few months but I cannot remember how my Swans journey begun. I taste-tested with Screen Shot sometime early last year, and did not connect with it—but felt it was the kind of thing I could come back around to. When I came back around to re-sample the band, I tried A Little God In My Hand and was swept a-fucking-way. Those cacophonous synth hits just got tastier with each contorted wave, and was left by the end of the track going, “This is it. This is what I didn’t know I was looking for. Time to eat this shit up.” At this point I joined the subreddit to get community insight and chart a listening course forward. I delved into Filth first just to lay the groundwork. I grew up saturated in classic rock, singer-songwriter, 80s pop and rock, and 90s grunge and alternative, so when I say that my jaw dropped hearing an album from '83 with the sonic palette and cutting themes Filth has, it was an informed disbelief. Nothing that hasn’t already been said--crushingly brutal, like rusted metal sheets sliding up and down each other, pounded by industrial machinery in the lower deck of a transatlantic ship. This is slave music of patriarchal capitalism, born in the forge of its belly: early 1980s' New York City.
I followed this with White Light, which was another shock in terms of contrast to Filth, and its occasional ecstatic beauty. The melodic section of Love Will Save You? The heartbreaking, depressive honesty of Blind (even more with the Israeli prison context)? Song for Dead Time? Between these two albums I was locked in. I’m a _sucker_ for album experiences (call me a Pink Floyd refugee), so The Great Annihilator was next on my list. The overt spirituality of Mind/Body/Light/Sound and I Am The Sun (especially the clippingly loud Flesh Club live cut tucked at the end) screwed me tighter to the side of this escape-velocity rock. From the subreddit, I knew the reputation of the “post-rock trilogy,” post-rock being my choice genre (This Will Destroy You, Godspeed! You Black Emperor, Mogwai, etc.), and knew these albums couldn’t be sitting-in-my-living-room casual listening.
To start with, The Seer. I packed a bowl of home grown, threw it in an apothecary’s satchel, double-knotted my boots, and set out into a foggy afternoon in the community Redwood forest. Ignition of Lunacy as I entered the gate of the woods. I slowly veered further and further from the main trails, until I was climbing the steep side of an earth mound with more and more accelerating pace, broke out into a monstrous, heaving gallop up each switch-back of the deer trail as The Seer’s tension culminated in a frenetic crescendo of predatory fervor. I was the Wolf. I did not stop snarling up the mountainside until the percussive strikes abated--each crash more infinite, more symbolically potent, more deeply rooted than the last. I was at the top now, with short-changed breath. Perfect time to burn the bowl. As the crashes continued to roll like the alarm bells of a paranoid schizophrenic, I drew in the deepest breath I could and began slowly floating down the main trail I’d re-intersected on the park’s far-side. The Seer Returns whispered sweet, Godly nothings in my ear as I clomped off-trail again, this time plodding my own path through ferns and fresh-born mushrooms to the detritus-laden stump of a two-hundred year old tree. Sitting, facing out across the narrow valley as the overcast sky began its slow, evening dim, 93 Ave. Blues showed the Wolf the bigger fish which had been following me from the sky, through the trees. The Daughter Brings the Water baptized my hallowed bones, Song For a Warrior lit something inside of my chest I’d long forgotten was possible, and Avatar brought me back to my feet. I made a winding exit from the forest, allowing ample space and solitude to bask in the hands that held my life and soak in the unspeakable longing of the first half of A Piece of the Sky. When those bells finally broke through, it was like the subtlest spiritual rapture flowing in stream from the spring that was Song For A Warrior. Apostate turned me over in its mouth, with Michael’s “G-g-g-g-get out!” sounding like the voice of some forest spirit whom I had not properly consecrated myself to meet. The exhaustive clamor that foams the album to a close was the thirty-legged monstrosity from 93 Ave. Blues finally warded off—yet I could no longer tell if the monster was in the sky, ushering me away from its abode, or if its percussive footsteps were the spidery legs of my soul crawling back to the web I came from. Did I have any idea of what to make of the album after that first listen? No. But I had enough sense to let the feeling in my bones settle like a sedimentary layer of some mass extinction from the remote depths of my psyche, whose frailty has allowed my tectonic unconscious to fold mountains up out of the debris. When I returned home, the walls were smaller. I pledged my allegiance to Michael Gira then and there.
The next day, I began in on To Be Kind. I got through She Loves Us before I had to go to work. On the way home, I picked up with Kristine Supine and finished out the album. I’ll be honest, To Be Kind did not immediately connect with me like The Seer did. It’s true that the listening experience was interrupted by obligation, and that my setting was far less pointedly cultivated than it was for The Seer, but neither did it strike me quite as cohesively in theme or flow. In subsequent listens I have pulled the threads together and can appreciate its totality and humanity, and did enjoy the flow more when it was, well, uninterrupted. Still, fan-favorites like Bring The Sun and Oxygen left me feeling a smidge underwhelmed for reasons I couldn’t place. I was irked by the disproportionality between the first and second halves’ subject matters, feeling like the second disc was a lot more one-note, with She Loves Us, Kirsten Supine, Nathalie Neal, and To Be Kind revolving around either sex or romantic love. I later read that Nathalie Neal is about Michael’s daughter and She Loves Us is about adolescent love a la sex, which concretized the second half of the album, and the narrative arc of the album, much more clearly for me—especially following the outro of “Some Things We Do” off the first disc. She Loves Us is lusty teenery, Kirsten Supine is the all-consuming involvement and attachment to your first love(s) ("May plan-ets crash, may god rain ash//I will let it go, I can’t let it go…"), Oxygen is aging into vitality, overcoming mid-life crisis, and taking ownership of our simplest will to live ("I still love the oxygeeen!”), Nathalie Neal is the devotion to and love for your children (“Cut your name on to the sky, Nathalieeeee!”), and To Be Kind is the settling at the end of life with your committed partner and your child—the “millions and millions of stars in your eyes” is the depth of love you must feel for a partner you spend the rest of your life with, as well as the boundless potential you can see in the eyes of your child. Considering the album opens, narratively, with Just A Little Boy, very much about the complexes we develop in childhood which follow us as we grow (“I’m not—I’m not human!”) and how the adults around us dismiss and reinforce these complexes (“[Laughter]”), the endless potential of staring into your child’s eyes places the ““protagonist”” in the position of shaping the next generation, of doing better by them than was done for us. While the music’s finale felt a little stunted upon first listens, I now hear it as an echo of the ending of Oxygen, a wheezing, a heart palpitation, the successive injuries of ever-increasing age—death. We have come full circle, from an incisive call to presence (tonal opener, Screen Shot, catching the listener wherever they are in life and putting them in position for the album), through the tribulations of youth which we are largely powerless to affect, all the way to reclamation of self and inhabiting the responsibility of the agency we grow into. It’s like Dark Side of the Moon, but does the whole “unpacking sources of contemporary repression” theme with a finer scalpel and less of the forgiveness of 70s rock showmanship. I make this crude comparison only to emphasize what I see as the importance and staying power of To Be Kind. As others have said, I can see why it’s the stereotypical fan favorite, even if I don't agree it’s Swans' best. A prime intersection of experimentation, honed technique, and thematic accessibility certifies it a classic.
Okay. So. After two thirds of this trilogy had demarcated my life up until this point as unrecognizable from my life hereto onward, and seeing that The Glowing Man was less discussed than the previous two albums, but lauded with descriptors like “transcendent” and “spiritual,” as well as seeing Gira himself state it was his favorite of the trilogy, I had a feeling this would be the installment for me. I gave myself some time to prepare, to get my affairs in order. I brushed up on Cop and Love of Life, as well as picked up “Blood Promise” from Swans Are Dead into my morning routine (thank you whomever commenter here offered this song under a post asking what Swans’ fans’ favorite Swans songs are. You really did that for me), as well as fingered through the tracks on My Father, which I found less compelling, as well as the first Angels of Light album, which I think I'll return to at a later date. You see, the latter third of my teens was bespeckled with psychedelic use. It became a religious practice for me, especially LSD, not letting a month go by without cleansing myself from the aggregate muck of male egoic jealous self-delusion. Into my early twenties, I cooled the engines on all but sonorous cannabis and the occasional psilocybe excursion, and picked up mindfulness practices from Buddhism and the four yogas of Hinduism, focused more on daily breath work, diet, and art practice, and generally rounded myself out to be a grounded participant in society. Woohoo! But. It’s been two years since my last LSD trip, and I miss it. Like a friend you haven’t talked to for some time with whom you’ve been meaning to catch up, I’ve heard the ringing of a call to pick up the phone for awhile. Yet, armed with a personal maturity unmatched in my younger ventures, I am now more sculptor than abstract expressionist—more Rodin than de Kooning. And more than ever before, I had a backed up catalogue of music which I had good reason to believe I’d not only enjoy, but could thoroughly appreciate, waiting in the wings. So, I looked a few months out. I considered the seasons and consulted a moon calendar, and picked a target date which was in line with my personal development intentions. There was one window which my intuition made evident resonated most deeply with all that I had lined up—a few days separated the winter solstice (yesterday, December 21) and the new moon (tomorrow, December 23). The shortest day of the year, or the day most submerged in Earth’s shadow from the sun, about on-beat with the point at which the moon is invisible under its own shadow. I have a fairly androgynous personality, but recognize as I grow older that my shadow, in the Jungian sense, is deeply entwined with my masculinity. I’m 6’ and have broad shoulders, and while I’m not particularly built or anything, neither am I particularly talkative—which makes some people uncomfortable. I know my principles and my limits and I know I’m no danger unless acting in self-defense, but others have no insurance of that. As I've become entranced in the Swans discography and their albums have fallen into my daily rotation, I’ve been a bit more forthright with myself about the intensity of my presence and how it could come off to others. So, while the Earth and moon were in their shadows, what better time for me to venture into my own? First problem: my work schedule. The business I clock in to for a living is open all that week, and are short-staffed at that because of people taking time off for the holidays. I had five days off the week prior to dog sit for some family, so I really had no wiggle room to make things work. For a minute, I thought I’d have to applaud my careful planning, but move the ceremony back to the time between Christmas and New Years, or even into early January. Then, an act of God. My town was rattled with earthquakes the morning I got back from the dog-sitting gig, and everywhere was without power. Well, our business was very proud of its backup generator—a generator which had apparently broken down not a month prior! I got no advance warning from my boss, just passed by the store on the way home with groceries to see all the lights out. Which meant, no closing shift for me. And I didn’t have to work until four o’clock the next day, which meant I had an unexpected 25 hours of free time to care for. Well, well, well, if it wasn’t LSD’s last name.
I sauntered home in a lucid daze with my food, picking up some jasmine incense along the way, tidied up my apartment, centered my small altar of lost and found things on the bedroom floor, set my kneeling mat out in front of it, strapped my speaker to the ceiling above my bed, and changed into sweatpants and an Alex Grey cosmic eye tee. The power being out, I had no heater, and the cold slowly set in. Once all was in order, all lights off, all blinds shut to pitch blackness—I kneeled before the altar, slipped two and a half gel tabs flecked with gold flakes on to my tongue (at 6:48pm), pressed play on my prepared playlist, closed my eyes, and began breathing into my body. The playlist was a sequence of albums, none of which I’d ever heard, introduced by a symphonic tone poem by Rachmaninoff called The Isle of the Dead, Op. 29, based on a painting of the same name by Böcklin. This was to embrace the symbolic death of my unwanted attachments and accompany the settling and centering of mind for the journey ahead. Following Rachmaninoff, the playlist consisted of the following: Omnium Gatherum by King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard, 10,000 Days by TOOL, The Glowing Man by Swans, Slow Riot for New Zero Kanada by Godspeed! You Black Emperor, and finally, Soundtracks For The Blind, by Swans. After Rachmaninoff concluded and the ‘Stralian boys were a few songs deep, I broke meditation to set the incense upon the altar and light it, for some reason dripping in sweat. The lighter’s flame was blinding in the viscous dark, and I tried to hold my hand between the fire and my eye, while still directing the flame to the head of the incense. The apartment began to fill with smoke as King, Wizard, and Co. deftly weaved genres and lyrics that pulled me between giggles, solemn approval, and pure groove. By the end of the album, The Funeral, I had progressed to bed. Fitting! From there, TOOL took over. Those guys know how to play, and keep the energy up. At this point, creeping into the eight o’clock hour, I was becoming self-aware about bothering my neighbors with the constancy of this sonic barrage. So, scaling down the volume every so often through the album, spasming at my core with reactive entanglement in the music that massaged laughter from typically clenched places within myself, finally Viginti Tres passed overhead into the veiled beyond. I admit, I'd heard The Pot and Viginti Tres off 10,000 Days before, so I knew those lumbering dragons wings meant the beast was here. Yes, I was excited to hear all of these albums (and thoroughly enjoyed them all at that!) but I knew what I had come for. I knew that he was here.
The Glowing Man. What the fuck! From the moment Cloud of Forgetting faded in, the sleek, synthesized ambience teleported me. The fidelity is on another level, the sustained pads complement Swans’ percussive guitar and drums like a fine mist complements Stonehenge, or the Paris Catacombs. It was like watching a time-lapse of the ground eroding out from under my feet, exposing the shape of bedrock as we plunge further into the Earth, into the inner sanctum of a diamond-forged mind as M. Gira’s. Isle of the Dead is a twenty minute piece, Omnium Gatherum sports a runtime of an hour twenty, and 10,000 Days is an hour fifteen—which meant, as I crossed under the first archways of Gira’s voice (“Waaalking out…”) we were entering the third hour, the ascension to the peak and its subsequent waves, just as I had planned. Though I wore headphones, it was I who was subsumed into it. This music sounds like some a stamp in wax of the force which first lit stars and strung them across the sky. Now we meet the brink of language. What was going on within me for Cloud of Unknowing? Rapture. IIIIIII AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM, the mystic Gira cries out. IIIIIIII AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM NOOOOOOOT, he then concedes. Reminds me of the Buddhist contemplation: I am; I am not; “I am.” The final quotation is recognition of the reality of the first statement, as well as acknowledgement of our imperfect access to it, limited by the nature of our concepts. You know, I’ve seen many people claim that Gira’s references to spirituality, be it in A Piece of the Sky, Cloud of Unknowing, Children of God, or elsewhere, is mocking, tongue-in-cheek, or satirical, but I think that’s bullshit. Cloud of Unknowing, and truly The Glowing Man as a whole, is like a resistance band for mindfulness. The repetition of zombie, as though we are all mindless beings inhabited by God, could also be an indictment of religious people who are divorced from their own spirituality. Sucker refers to the most fundamental human instinct, to drink from our mothers, but also to people who buy into the institutions of religion without the slightest participation in its truly existentialist dimensions. Christianity has had mystical sects throughout its history which have reached the same self-transcendence and kenosis as Hindus, Buddhists, Taoists, and Sufis. But, to come into clarity of mind, you cannot become caught up in the threads of concern, confusion, or consideration. Gira rolls these words out of his sternum like he is daring your mind to wander from one-pointedness, daring you to succumb to awareness of your powerlessness over these most fundamental elements of what we are. After all, that’s what God was always known to be by the mystics: the invisible structure underlying all things, apparent in ourselves in the biological coding that allows us to feed as needed from the moment we’re this side of the birthing canal (A Red Velvet Corridor, if you will). As The World Looks Red / The World Looks Black buried my mind, I was with all the lingering ghosts of bodies buried out of respect for the sanctity of their spirit. A planet of bodies awash in an ocean of insects, the sleeper men. Aren’t we all following the words and deeds of the dead? Somewhere in the tail end of the climax, my headphones died. Jarred awake, I rose from my bed (with the sun in my head) and found my headphones' charging case. I couldn’t entertain the possibility of playing this album at that time through my speaker, so I took a moment out of my heightened state to sit down with an art project of mine I’m in the weeds with, a mandalic film built around near-death experience. I spent about an hour swept away in my work before, satisfied with my insight and headphones graciously charged, I returned to bed. Hitting play immediately submerged me back into the momentum of the album as I stood upon the peak of the acid, like Moses, while People Like Us spoke two commandments to me: Sit down and shut up. The lyrics there are Michael’s most poetic ever, and his instruction to drink from the vine foresaw my next maneuver. You see, I had brought something to bed with me after getting up from my work. In a small desk drawer, I’ve held a rechargeable, white dimethyltryptamine vaporizer. While Frankie M burned into its first half, I took one, two, and then a third long, medium breaths in. Every story I’d ever heard danced in pictographs, compressed flat against the edge of every surface in my mind like the tessellation of a hyperbolic plane. Some sense of center was retained, but just as soon as I recognized such as being the case, I saw the small geometric designation kerploof apart like falling water, like smoke off dry ice, like a squirrel grazing an electrical line. Then came, “Frankie MMMMMM. Frankie MMMMMM. Frankie MMMMMM. Frankie MMMMMM.” I rose firmly back into my body, and the first coherent thought that reemerged followed a laugh from my gut, and I asked aloud, “What is Gira _talking_ about here?” Literally trading the end of my last syllable with the beginning of the first syllable of “Heroiiiin.” My face when. “Butterflies! Butterfliiies!” More laughter. When he started talking about killing his friends, it made me glad of two things: one, that I was undertaking this journey alone, and two, that my common sense seemed perfectly intact amidst all these influences. When Will I Return made me forget my breath. I forgot everything, twisted off the end of every word Jennifer sang with mounting apprehension. The thought crossed my mind, “Okay, but why would you commit this to song for eternity?” when came, “AAAAAAAAAH—I’M ALIVE.” Fuuuuuuck, fuck, fuck. The feeling there was incomparable. At this point, I thought I knew what everyone meant when they said they transcended during this album. This album had made me realize I was real, killed me, swept me away to another realm, spoken to me, and then made me forget anything like “me” existed. Height after height, ascension after ascension. And then…
The Glowing Man. What the fuck! This song legitimately scared me. Coming right off the heels of When Will I Return, something in me felt utterly convinced that what I was hearing was a r*pe confession by Michael Gira. I know Larkin Grimm’s accusation, but that was neither here nor there in my mind at that moment. I do see, though, how her allegation coming the same year this album came out could've created a buffer of people not wanting to touch it. I read some people’s interpretations of the title track yesterday, about how it’s the superior man, the ideal Gira aspires to, etc., but that is not what struck my mind. From the opening line ("Heeeeee’s a reeal go-getterrrr! Getterrr!”), there’s a homophone between “getter” and “get her,” then “heart-breaker, break her,” and “head-splitter, split her.” Coming directly after a song about r*pe, the undertones seem to me self-evident. I compare it to Death of a Salesman, which showed how the 1950s American cultural ideal of the “alpha male businessman” bred toxic behavior in young men through the very way they were encouraged to succeed. I hear Gira expressing normatively positive sentiments that have these abyssal shadows to them, demonstrating how a person that takes these instructions to heart could easily go too far and cross lines that can’t be uncrossed. Theft, r*pe, murder. And then, just as my anxious wondering fully ensnared the sphere of my attention, the Bring The Sun reprise struck, and hit so much harder than in Bring The Sun! Again, the pads beneath the pummeling regularity of the band’s measures were the moment nothing was left of me. Theia struck Earth. A galactic nebula tied a knot into our sun. A black hole star fused Sagittarius A*. The primordial chaos that lurks in the thrust of the big bang bled into my third eye. Time had ceased, I had always been here. Though I’d never heard The Glowing Man before, amidst this cacophony I was at peace with the totally familiar. Like a song I heard broken into fragments throughout dreams since childhood. Like the skeleton of God. The chorus of voices that pan behind the Joseph section sounded like pagan trances from across space and time, all tuning into this hyperobject downloaded from some higher plane of reality and reaching my ears through it. After watching Gira’s interview about Joseph, which I think he was wholly sincere about, this passage becomes part of the thematic lynchpin of the album in my eyes. Joseph is a higher self, a not-me that moves through-me. But not like God’s presence in you reveals you to be a zombie, as in Cloud of Unknowing. No, Gira sees clearly what Joseph does: digs his hands in his chest, moves his tongue in his throat. Joseph is accessible, a teacher, a guide for who Michael could be—precisely, who he becomes when he performs. “Joseph is me and you are a liar!” Michael dissociates, Michael gropes for identification with his higher self, Joseph screams accusations potentially revealing he is not as glowing as he thinks he is. Jospeh was making my body fly, but my fear, however, had not abated. “I am a glowing man, I am. I am a glowing, glowing man!” are the eeriest words I’ve ever heard in my life. A celebration, self-delusion, an irreducible fact—and a potent image, at that. Then, he is a nothing, no-thing man, again rescinding all attributes in favor of embodying a transcendental gestalt. "What is is is is is is is is whaaat?” What is, is. What is, is what? What is, is. The last five minutes of this song were hypnotic in ways I haven’t yet caught in words. The entire song was patterned by amorphous shapes and colors, constantly becoming and radiating, passing through itself and revealing new depths. Hypnotic and transcendental don’t begin to touch it. Psychedelic and entheogenic, cinematic and Jungian. Apocalyptic renewal. A complete out of body experience. As those last pipes are squeezed quiet and Finally, Peace, sparkles into sight, I was quivering. Waiting for tears. All creation is hollow, the shining void. Again, the album ends with this faint homophone: "You glorious miiiind, the glory is miiiine!” It’s like a rejection of God and Joseph to inhabit your due credit in being as glowing as you are. I’M ALIVE. In fact, I’ve never felt so alive. If there was a stone inside me, this album destroyed it. And, now, to begin again.
My listening carried straight into Moya by Godspeed!, which I was not aware was a transition between the albums. I was halfway through Helpless Child when I decided to check, for the first time in the evening, where exactly I was in the playlist. You know, everyone says Soundtracks For The Blind is a scary record, but Red Velvet Corridor was soothing and I Was A Prisoner In Your Skull had me giggling again. I settled in for another life-changing ride, and was very intrigued as the tracks passed, but myself faded out into sleep sometime after Volcano. I will have to sit down from the jump and have a SFTB listening session in the near future, because I loved what I heard. It really does have a Sound alien to their past albums, and foreshadowing of the post-rock era. I have to say, the field recording in Blaise Bailey Finnegan III carried so perfectly into Red Velvet Corridor I’m bummed I didn’t get to hear all of Soundtracks off the momentum of the back end of The Glowing Man and Zero Kanada. But, as far as complaints go, that’s pretty well cherry-picked. Not only was the solstice ceremony transportive, but the Swans discography has changed me. Read a comment somewhere here recently saying some people just aren’t miserable enough for this music, and I got a laugh out of it—but it’s also true. Yet, for all the loathing, depression, hopelessness, and existential dread that Michael Gira has fit into his forty years of musical endeavoring, these records have brought me unparalleled companionship, new artistic horizons, and barer emotional honesty than I have found anywhere else. It’s changed my life, so much for the better. I thought Little God In My Hands was a game-changer, I thought A Piece of the Sky was an achievement of spiritual expression, I thought God Damn The Sun moved the cornerstone of my heart. Nothing could have prepared me for The Glowing Man. If this trilogy isn’t spoken of in art history classes in a hundred years, it will be wildly overlooked. Michael Gira isn’t just a musician, mystic, artist, my new daddy, or the voice of God. He’s all of them at once. Jesus Christ, y’all. Swans. What is this?
Needless to say, can’t wait for The Beggar.