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2020.02.18 00:12 jonisantucho Oscars 2021: An inside look (like, really inside) to 50 possible contenders in the next awards race

Another Oscar ceremony happened, and we got our fair share of joy and disappointment. After Parasite surprised the world and took Best Picture, it seems like the game has changed for the awards race, now that non-English speaking films can actually fight and be recognized as well as classics as… Green Book. The Oscar race is still full of pain and glory, and even though the year has barely started, we have a bunch of movies that are fighting for air. And here’s 50 of them. Yes, I had some free time in my hands and this is a cool hobby, so I took the liberty to introduce most of the movies that will have Film Twitter entertained for the following 12 months. I say most, because there are always contenders who come out of nowhere later in the year, so this is the starter set. Here we go.
-Annette: Since Parasite’s road to the Oscars started at Cannes, it seems fair to talk about a movie that is circling a premiere in the world stage that is set in France. After delivering weird, indie classics like Mauvais Sang and Holy Motors (yes, the kind of movies that make you seem like a snob when you recommend them to people), Leos Carax is making his first movie spoken in the English language… and it has a musical screenplay written by the cult rock duo of Sparks. Recently robbed Adam Driver and previous Oscar winner Marion Cotillard sing in this tale of a stand-up comedian and a famous soprano singer who rise and fall in Los Angeles while their daughter is born with a special gift. It seems like a wild bet, but we already know that Carax is a master with musical moments, so this is one of the most intriguing question marks of the year.
-Ammonite: It’s time to talk narratives. On the one hand, we have Kate Winslet, a known name who hasn’t been very successful in the Oscar race since her Oscar win for The Reader over a decade ago (with the exception being her supporting performance in Steve Jobs, where she had a weird accent). On the other, we have Saoirse Ronan, a star on the rise who keeps collecting Oscar nominations, with 4 nods at the age of 25, including her fresh Best Actress loss for Little Women. What happens if we put them together in a drama set in the coasts of England during the 19th century where both of them fall for each other? That’s gonna be a winning formula if writedirector Francis Lee (who tackled queer romance in his acclaimed debut God’s Own Country) nails the Mary Anning story, and Neon (the distribution company founded three years ago that took Parasite to victory) is betting on it.
-Benedetta: We know the Paul Verhoeven story. After isolating himself from Hollywood for over a decade, he took Isabelle Huppert to an Oscar nominated performance with the controversial, sexy, dark and funny thriller Elle. Now, he’s back with another story that perks up the ears, because now he’s covering the life of Benedetta Carlini, a 17th-century lesbian nun who had religious and erotic visions. If you know Paul, you already can tell that this fits into his brand of horniness, and a possible Cannes premiere could tell us if this has something to carry itself to Oscar night.
-Blonde: With a short but impactful directorial credits list that takes us from Chopper, to The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford to Killing Them Softly, Andrew Dominik is back with a film about Marilyn Monroe, a woman who has transcended the ideas of fame and stardom, in ways that are glamorous and nightmarish at the same time. After failing to launch with Naomi Watts or Jessica Chastain,the rising Ana de Armas takes the lead in the retelling of Monroe’s troubled life based on Joyce Carol Oates’ novel, which is said to be covered in the screenplay as somewhat of a horror movie. We don’t know what that means yet, but Netflix is gonna push hard for this one, especially considering how the Academy loves throwing awards to stars playing previous stars, and that also can possibly include co-stars Bobby Cannavale and Adrien Brody.
-Breaking News in Yuba County: While he hasn’t gone back to the heights of his success achieved by the box office and award success of The Help (a movie that did not age well), Tate Taylor is still enjoying himself economically due to recent thrillers like The Girl on the Train and Ma. For his next movie, he’s made a dramedy that once again reunites him with Oscar winner Allison Janney, where she plays a woman who has to keep appearances and a hidden body when she catches her husband cheating on her, and then he dies of a heart attack. With a cast that also includes Mila Kunis, Regina Hall, Awkwafina, Samira Wiley, Wanda Sykes, Jimmi Simpson and Ellen Barkin, this could be a buzzy title later this year.
-C’mon C’mon: You may love or hate whatever Joaquin Phoenix did in Joker, but you can’t deny the benefit of playing the Crown Prince of Crime in an Oscar-winning performance. The blank check that you share with indie directors afterwards. Now that Joaquin’s cultural cachet is on the rise, Mike Mills gets to benefit with this drama that stars Phoenix and Gaby Hoffmann, with him playing an artist left to take care of his precocious young nephew as they forge an unexpected bond over a cross country trip. We only have to wonder if A24 will do better with this movie’s Oscar chances compared to 20th Century Women.
-Cherry: After killing half the universe and bringing them back with the highest grossing movie of all time, where do you go? For Joe and Anthony Russo, the answer is “away from the Marvel Cinematic Universe”. The Russo brothers are trying to distance themselves and prove that they have a voice without Kevin Feige behind them, with a crime drama that’s also different than their days when they directed You, Me and Dupree or episodes of Arrested Development and Community. To help them in the journey, they took Tom Holland (who also needs to distance himself from Spider-Man, lest he ends up stuck to the character in the audience’s eyes) to star in a crime drama based on former Army medic Nico Walker’s memoir about his days after Iraq, where the PTSD and an opioid addiction led him to start robbing banks.
-Da 5 Bloods: After bouncing back from a slump with the critical and commercial success of BlackKklansman, Spike Lee is cashing a Netflix check to tell the tale of four African American veterans who return to Vietnam to search for their fallen leader and some treasure. With a cast that includes Delroy Lindo, Clarke Peters, Isiah Whitlock Jr, Paul Walter Hauser and Chadwick Boseman, this sounds like an interesting combo, although we still should remember the last time that Spike tried his hand at a war movie, with the dull Miracle at St. Anna.
-Dune: If you are on Reddit, you probably know about the new film by movies’ new Messiah, Denis Villeneuve. While the epic sci-fi novel by Frank Herbert is getting a new chance in the multiplexes after that David Lynch movie that was forgotten by many, some are hoping that this will be the beginning of a new franchise (as seen by the release date of December 18, taking the spot of the usual Star Wars opening), and a return to the whole “remember when stuff like Return of the King or Fury Road were nominated for Best Picture?” question. Timothee Chalamet will be riding a lot of hope, and sandworm.
-Everybody’s Talking About Jamie: As you start to see, there are several musicals that are gonna be fighting for attention over the next year, and Annette was the first one. Now, we also have this adaptation of the hit West End production, that centers around a gay British teenager who dreams of becoming a drag queen and get his family and schoolmates to accept his sexuality. With a cast that mixes young unknowns, familiar Brits (Sharon Horgan, Sarah Lancashire and my boy Ralph Ineson) and the previously nominated legend that is Richard E. Grant (who is playing a former drag queen named Loco Chanelle), the creative team of the stage musical will jump to the big screen with the help of Fox Searchlight (sorry, just Searchlight), who has clear Oscar hopes with a release date right in the middle of awards heat, on October 23.
-Hillbilly Elegy: Even though the Parasite victory gave many people hope for a new Academy that stops recognizing stuff like previous winner Green Book… let’s be honest, the Academy will still look for movies like Green Book. This year, many people are turning their eyes towards Ron Howard’ adaptation of J.D. Vance’s memoir about his low income life in a poor rural community in Ohio, filled with drugs, violence and verbal abuse. If this sounds like white trash porn, it doesn’t help to know that Glenn Close, who has become the biggest living Oscar bridesmaid with seven nominations, will play a character called Mamaw. And if that sounds trashy, then you have to know that Amy Adams, who follows Glenn with six nominations, is playing her drug-addicted, careless daughter. I don’t want to call this “Oscar bait”, but it sure is tempting.
-I’m Thinking of Ending Things: After his stopmotion existential dramedy Anomalisa got him a Best Animated Feature nomination at the Oscars but at the same time bombed at the box office, Charlie Kaufman is getting the Netflix check. This time, he’s adapting the dark novel by Iain Reid, about a woman (Jessie Buckley, who is on the rise and took over the role after Brie Larson had to pass) who is taken by her boyfriend (Jesse Plemons) to meet his parents (Toni Collette and David Thewlis), in a trip that takes a turn for the worse. If Kaufman can deliver with this one, it will be a big contender.
-In the Heights: Yes, more musicals! This time, it’s time to talk about Lin-Manuel Miranda’s first Tony-winning musical, that was overshadowed because of his other small play about some treasury secretary. Now, his Broadway ensemble tale about life in a neighborhood in Washington Heights is jumping to the movie screen with Jon Chu at the helm, following the success of Crazy Rich Asians. This Latino tale mixes up-and-comers like Anthony Ramos (who comes straight from Hamilton and playing Lady Gaga’s friend in A Star is Born), names like Corey Hawkins and Jimmy Smits (who is pro bits), and Olga Merediz, who starred in the Broadway show as Abuela Claudia and who could be the early frontrunner for Best Supporting Actress, if Chu allows her to shine like she did onstage.
-Jesus Was My Homeboy: When looking at up-and-coming Black actors right now in Hollywood, two of the top names are Daniel Kaluuya and Lakeith Stanfield, who already appeared in the same movie in Get Out, which earned Kaluuya a Best Actor nomination. This time, they share the screen in Shaka King’s retelling of the story of Fred Hampton (Kaluuya), an activist and Black Panther leader… as well as the story of William O’Neal (Stanfield), the FBI agent sent by J. Edgar Hoover to infiltrate the party and arrest him. With the backing of Warner Bros, this will attempt to make an impact with a clash of actors that will have to fight with an August release date, not the ideal time to release an awards movie.
-King Richard: Starting with Suicide Squad, Will Smith has been trying to prove that he’s back and better than ever. Some attempts to get back to the top of the A-list (Aladdin, Bad Boys For Life) have worked, while others (Gemini Man, Spies in Disguise)... have not. But Will is still going, and now he’s going for his next prestige play as he plays Richard Williams, the coach and father of the tennis legends Venus and Serena, who pushed them to their full potential. While it’s weird that the father of the Williams sisters is getting a movie before them, it does sound like a meaty role for Smith, who has experience with Oscar notices with sports biopics because of what he did with Michael Mann in Ali. Let’s hope director Reinaldo Marcus Green can take him there too.
-Last Night in Soho: Every year, one or two directors who have a cool reputation end up in the Dolby Theatre, and 2020 could be the year of Edgar Wright. After delivering his first big box office hit with Baby Driver, the Brit is going back to London to tell a story in the realm of psychological horror, which has been supposedly inspired by classics like Don’t Look Now and Repulsion. With a premise that supposedly involves time travel and a cast that includes Anya-Taylor Joy, Thomasin McKenzie, Matt Smith and Diana Rigg, Wright (who also co-wrote this with Krysty Wilson-Cairns, who was just nominated for Best Original Screenplay for her work in 1917) is making a big swing.
-Let Them All Talk: Every year there’s more new streaming services, and that also means that there’s new players in the Oscar game. To secure subscribers to the new service, HBO Max has secured the rights to the next Steven Soderbergh movie, a comedy that stars Meryl Streep as a celebrated author that takes her friends (Candice Bergen, Dianne Wiest) and her nephew (Lucas Hedges, again) in a journey to find fun and come to terms with the past. The last time that Soderbergh and Streep worked together, the end result was the very disappointing The Laundromat. Let’s hope that this time everything works out.
-Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom: Now that Netflix got the deal to adapt August Wilson’s acclaimed plays with Denzel Washington’s production company, the next jump from the stage to the screen is a meaty one. Viola Davis is playing blues singer Ma Rainey in this tale of a heated recording session with her bandmates, her agent and her producer in 1927, with a cast that also includes Chadwick Boseman, Glynn Turman and Colman Domingo. The Tony nominated play talked about race, art and the intersection of the two, and it’s gonna be explosive to see that unfold on screen, even if director George C. Wolfe’s previous filmography isn’t very encouraging.
-Macbeth: In a shocking development, the Coen brothers are no more. Well, just this time. For the first time in his career, Joel Coen is making a movie without Ethan, and it’s a Shakespeare adaptation. Denzel Washington is playing the man who wants to be king of Scotland, and Frances McDormand is playing his Lady Macbeth. While this just started filming and it will be a race to finish it in time for competition in the awards race, the potential is there, and this project has everybody’s attention.
-Mank: After scoring 24 Oscar nominations and only winning 2 awards last Sunday, Netflix has to wonder what else must they do to get in the club that awards them. They tried with Cuarón, they tried with Scorsese, they tried with Baumbach, they tried with two Popes, and they still feel a barrier. Now, the big gamble for awards by the streamer in 2020 comes to us in the hands of David Fincher, who is basically their friend after the rest of Hollywood denied him (Disney dropped his 20,000 Leagues adaptation, HBO denied the US remake of Utopia, and Paramount drove World War Z 2 away from him). In his first movie since 2014’s Gone Girl, David will go black and white to tackle a script by his late father about the making of the classic of classics, Citizen Kane, with previous Oscar winner Gary Oldman playing the lead role of screenwriter Herman J. Mankiewicz. Will the Academy fall for the ultimate “power of da moviesshhh” story?
-Minari: Sundance can be hit or miss with the breakout films that try to make it to the Oscars. However, you can’t deny the waves made by A24 when they premiered Lee Isaac Chung’s new drama there, ending up winning the Grand Jury Prize and the Audience Award in the US Dramatic Competition. If Parasite endeared Academy voters to Korean families, Steven Yeun hopes that the same thing happens with this story, where he plays a father in the ‘80s who suddenly decides to move his family to Arkansas to start a farm. Even though the reviews have been great, we must also remember that last year, A24 had in their hands The Farewell, another Sundance hit about an Asian family that ended up with no Oscar nominations. Let’s hope that this time, the Plan B influence (remember, that’s Brad Pitt’s production company, of Moonlight and 12 Years a Slave fame) makes a difference.
-Next Goal Wins: It’s a good time to be Taika Waititi. Why? Taika Waititi can do what he wants. He can direct a Thor movie, he can win an Oscar for writing a comedy set in WW2 about a Third Reich boy who has an Imaginary Hitler friend, or he can pop up in The Mandalorian as a droid. Taika keeps winning, and he wants more. Between his press tour for Jojo Rabbit and his return to the MCU, he quickly shot an adaptation of a great documentary about the disgraced national team of American Samoa, one of the worst football teams known to man, as they try to make the cut for the 2014 FIFA World Cup. Everybody loves a good sports comedy, and Searchlight bets that we’ll enjoy this story led by Michael Fassbender as the new (and Dutch-American) coach in town who tries to shape the team for victory.
-News of the World: Seven years after their solid collaboration in Captain Phillips, Paul Greengrass and Tom Hanks reunite for more awards love in what seems to be Universal’s main attraction for the Oscars. This time, Hanks stars in a Western drama based on Paulette Jiles’ novel where he plays a traveling newsreader in the aftermath of the American Civil War who is tasked with reuniting an orphaned girl with her living relatives. With a Christmas release date, Universal is betting big in getting the same nomination boost that 1917 is enjoying right now, and the formula is promising.
-Nightmare Alley: Following his Best Picture and Best Director wins for The Shape of Water, everybody in Hollywood wondered what would Guillermo del Toro do next. Well, as Del Toro often does, a little bit of everything and nothing. Some projects moved (as his produced Pinocchio movie on Netflix, or his Death Stranding likeness cameo), others stalled and die (like his proposed Fantastic Voyage remake). But now he’s rolling on his next project, a new adaptation of the William Lindsay Gresham novel that already was a Tyrone Power film in 1947. This noir tale tells the story of a con man (Bradley Cooper) who teams up with a psychiatrist (Cate Blanchett) to trick people and win money, and how things get out of control. With a cast that also includes Toni Collette, Willem Dafoe, Rooney Mara and more, this could play well if it hits the right tone.
-Nomadland: There’s breakout years, and then there’s the amazing potential of Chloe Zhao’s 2020. On the one hand, after making Hollywood notice her skill with the gripping story of The Rider, she got the keys to the MCU kingdom to direct the next potential franchise of Kevin Feige, The Eternals. And just in case, she also has in her sleeve this indie drama that she wrote and directed beforehand, with two-time Oscar winner Frances McDormand playing a woman who, after losing everything in the Great Recession, embarks on a journey through the American West, living as a van-dwelling modern-day nomad. If Chloe nails these two films, it could be the one-two punch of the decade.
-One Night in Miami: Regina King is living her best life. Following her Oscar win for Best Supporting Actress in If Beale Street Could Talk and the success that came with her lead role in the Watchmen show on HBO, the actress is jumping to a new challenge: directing movies. For her big screen debut, she’s adapting Kemp Powers’ play that dramatizes a real meeting on February 25, 1964, between Muhammad Ali, Malcolm X, Sam Cooke and Jim Brown.
-Over the Moon: After earning praise and Oscar nominations with I Lost My Body and Klaus, Netflix will keep its bet on animated movies with a film directed by the legendary Glen Keane. Who? A classic Disney animator responsible for the design of characters like Ariel, the Beast, Aladdin, Pocahontas, Tarzan and more](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2jRkx2PNVr8), and who recently won an Oscar for Best Animated Short for Dear Basketball, which he co-directed with the late Kobe Bryant. Now, he brings us a musical adventure centered around a Chinese girl who builds a rocket ship and blasts off to the Moon in hopes of meeting a legendary Moon Goddess.
-Passing: It’s always interesting when an actor jumps behind the camera, and Rebecca Hall’s case is no exception. For her directorial debut, Hall chose to adapt Nella Larsen’s acclaimed novel set in Harlem in the 1920s, about two mixed race childhood friends (Ruth Negga and Tessa Thompson) who reunite in adulthood and become obsessed with one another's lives. With a premise that explores tough questions about race and sexuality, it looks like a tricky challenge for a first timer, but it would be more impressive if Hall manages to rise over the challenge.
-Prisoner 760: An interesting part of following the awards circuit is looking at when it's appropriate to talk about touchy subjects in recent history. I’m saying that because this next movie tells the real life tale of Mohamedou Ould Slahi (Tahar Rahim), a man who, despite not being charged or having a set trial, is held in custody at Guantanamo Bay, and turns towards a pair of lawyers (Jodie Foster and Shailene Woodley) to aid him. Based on the famous journal that the man wrote while he was being detained, the movie (that also counts with Benedict Cumberbatch) is directed by Kevin Macdonald who, a long time ago, helped Forest Whitaker win Best Actor for The Last King of Scotland. Could he get back in the race after almost 15 years of movies like State of Play?
-Raya and the Last Dragon: This year, Walt Disney Animation Studios’ bet for the Oscars is a fantasy tale set in a mysterious realm called Kumandra, where a warrior named Raya searches for the last dragon in the world. And that dragon has the voice of Awkwafina. Even though they missed out last Oscars when Frozen II got the cold shoulder by the Academy in Best Animated Feature, this premise looks interesting enough to merit a chance. One more thing: between last year’s Abominable, Over the Moon and this movie, there’s a clear connection of animated movies trying to appeal to Chinese sensibilities (and that sweet box office).
-Rebecca: It’s wild to think that the only time that Alfred Hitchcock made a film that won the Oscar for Best Picture was with 1940’s adaptation of Daphne du Maurier’s psychological thriller novel, more muted and conventional than his more known classics. Now, Ben Wheatley and Netflix are giving the Gothic story a new spin, with Lily James playing the newly married young woman who finds herself battling the shadow of her husband's (Armie Hammer) dead first wife, the mysterious Rebecca. The story is a classic, and we have to see how much weird Wheatley stuff is in the mix.
-Red, White and Water: Between 2011 and 2014, Jennifer Lawrence was everywhere and people loved it. She was America’s sweetheart, the Oscar winner, Katniss Everdeen. But then, everything kinda fell. Those X-Men movies got worse and she looked tired of being in them, her anecdotes got less charming and more pandering to some, she took respectable risks that didn’t pay off with Red Sparrow and Mother!, and some people didn’t like that she said that it wasn’t nice to share private photos of her online. Now, she looks to get back to the Oscar race with a small project funded by A24 and directed by Lila Neugebauer in her film debut, about a soldier who comes back to the US after suffering a traumatic brain injury in Afghanistan. Also, Brian Tyree Henry is in this, and it would be amazing if he got nominated for something.
-Respect: You know what’s a surefire way to get Academy voters’ attention? Play a real singer! Rami Malek took a win last year for playing Freddie Mercury, Renee Zellweger just won the gold after portraying Judy Garland, and now Jennifer Hudson wants more Oscar love. Almost 15 years after taking Best Supporting Actress for her role in Dreamgirls, Hudson will try to get more by playing soul legend Aretha Franklin, in a biopic directed by first timer Liesl Tommy that practically screams “give me the gold”. How am I so sure? Well, see the teaser that they released in December (for a movie that opens in October), and tell me. It will work out better for Hudson than Cats, that’s for sure.
-Soul: Unless they really disappoint (I’m looking at you, The Good Dinosaur, Cars 2 and Cars 3), you can’t have the Oscars without inviting Pixar to the party. This year, they have two projects in the hopes of success. While in a few weeks we’ll see what happens with the fantasy family road trip of Onward, the studio’s biggest bet of the year clearly is the next existential animation written and directed by Pete Docter, who brought Oscar gold to his home with Up and Inside Out. The movie, which centers on a teacher (voice of Jamie Foxx) who dreams of becoming a jazz musician and, just as he’s about to get his big break, ends up getting into an accident that separates his soul from his body, had a promising first trailer, and it also promises a score by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, as well as new songs by Jon Batiste. The only downside so far for the marketing was the fact that the trailer reveal led people to notice a suspicious trend involving black characters when they lead an animated movie.
-Tenet: When Leonardo DiCaprio finally touched his Academy Award, an alarm went off in the mind of a portion of Internet users, who have made their next crusade to give themselves to the cause of getting Christopher Nolan some Oscar love. And his next blank check, an action thriller involving espionage and time travel, could pull off the same intersection of popcorn and prestige that made Inception both a box office hit and a critically acclaimed Oscar nominee. It helps to have a cast of impressive names like John David Washington, Elizabeth Debicki and Robert Pattinson, as well as a crew that includes Ludwig Goransson and Hoyte van Hoytema. In other words, if this becomes a hit, this could go for a huge number of nominations.
-The Devil All the Time: As you may have noticed by now, Netflix is leading the charge in possible Oscar projects. Another buzzy movie that comes from them is the new psychological thriller by Antonio Campos, a filmmaker known for delivering small and intimate but yet intense and terrifying dramas like Simon Killer and Christine. Using the novel by Donald Ray Pollock, Campos will follow non-linearly a cast of characters in Ohio between the end of World War II and the beginning of the Vietnam War, with the help of an interesting cast that includes Tom Holland, Sebastian Stan, Robert Pattinson, Mia Wasikowska, Eliza Scanlen, Bill Skarsgard, Jason Clarke and Riley Keough.
-The Eyes of Tammy Faye: After being known as a sketch comedy goofball because of The State, Wet Hot American Summer and Stella, Michael Showalter reinvented himself as a director of small and human dramedies like Hello, My Name is Doris and The Big Sick. For his next project, he’s gonna mix a little bit of both worlds, because he has before him the story of the televangelists Tammy Faye Bakker (Jessica Chastain, who has been really trying to recapture her early ‘10 awards run to no avail) and Jim Bakker (Andrew Garfield, who was previously nominated for Hacksaw Ridge, instead of Silence, because why). With a real life tale that involves Christian theme parks, fraud and conspiracies, this is the kind of loud small movie that Searchlight loves to parade around, especially as an actors showcase (Jojo Rabbit being the most recent example). The first image looks terrifying, by the way.
-The Father: It’s weird to be in the middle of February and say that there’s already a frontrunner for the Best Actor race at the next Oscars. After its premiere in Sundance a couple of weeks ago, every prognosticator pointed in the direction of Anthony Hopkins (recently nominated for Best Supporting Actor in The Two Popes), who delivers a harrowing portrayal of an old man grappling with his age as he develops dementia, causing pain to his beleaguered daughter (recent winner Olivia Colman, who also got praised). With reviews calling it a British answer to Amour (in other words: it’s a hard watch), Florian Zeller’s adaptation of his acclaimed play not only benefits from having Hopkins and Colman together as a selling point, because it was acquired by Sony Pictures Classics, a distributor with experience in getting Academy voters to watch adult movies with heavy themes. If you don’t believe me, watch how they got Julianne Moore a win for Still Alice, as well as recent nominations for Isabelle Huppert for Elle, Glenn Close for The Wife, and Antonio Banderas for Pain and Glory. They know the game, and they are going to hit hard for Hopkins and Colman.
-The French Dispatch: If you saw the trailer, we don’t need to dwell too much on the reasons. On the one hand, we have the style of Wes Anderson, a filmmaker who has become a name in both the critics circle and the casual viewer, with his last two movies (The Grand Budapest Hotel and Isle of Dogs) earning several Oscar nominations, including Best Picture for the one with Gustave H. Then, we have a long cast that goes from the director’s regulars like Bill Murray to new stars like Timothee Chalamet, and also includes people like Benicio del Toro. The only thing that could endanger the Oscar chances for this is that the story, an anthology set around a period comedy with an European riff on The New Yorker, will alienate the average Academy member.
-The Humans: There’s the prestige of a play, and then there’s the prestige of a Tony-winning play. Playwright Stephen Karam now gets to jump to the director’s chair to take his acclaimed 2016 one-act story to the big screen, and A24 is cutting the check. Telling the story of a family that gets together on Thanksgiving to commiserate about life, this adaptation will be led by original performer Jayne Houdyshell (who also won a Tony for her stage performance), who’ll be surrounded by Richard Jenkins, Beanie Feldstein, Amy Schumer, Steven Yeun and June Squibb. If it avoids getting too claustrophobic or stagey for the cinema, it will be a good contender.
-The Last Duel: Always speedy, Ridley Scott is working on his next possible trip to the Oscars. This time, it’s the telling of a true story in 14th-century France, where a knight (Matt Damon) accuses his former friend (Adam Driver) of raping his wife (Jodie Comer), with the verdict being determined by the titular duel. It’s a juicy story, but there was some concern when it seemed that the script was only being written by Damon and Ben Affleck (who’ll also appear in the film). A rape story written by them after the Weinstein revelations… not the best look. But then, it was revealed that they were writing the screenplay with indie figure Nicole Holofcener, who last year was nominated for an Oscar for her script for Can You Ever Forgive Me? Let’s hope that the story is told in a gripping but not exploitative way, and that it doesn’t reduce the role of Comer (who deserves more than some of the movie roles that she’s getting after Killing Eve) to a Hollywood stereotype.
-The Power of the Dog: We have to talk about the queen of the indie world, we have to talk about Jane Campion. More than a decade after her last movie, Bright Star, the Oscar and Palme d’Or winner for The Piano returns with a non-TV project (see Top of the Lake, people) thanks to Netflix, with a period drama centered around a family dispute between a pair of wealthy brothers in Montana, Phil (Benedict Cumberbatch) and George Burbank (Jesse Plemons), after the latter one marries a local widow (Kirsten Dunst). According to the synopsis, “a shocked and angry Phil wages a sadistic, relentless war to destroy her entirely using her effeminate son Peter as a pawn”. Can’t wait to see what that means.
-The Prom: Remember the Ryan Murphy blank check deal with Netflix that I mentioned earlier? Well, another of the projects in the first batch of announcements for the deal is a musical that he’ll direct, adapting the Tony-nominated show about a group of Broadway losers (now played by the one and only Meryl Streep, Nicole Kidman, Andrew Rannells and, uh, James Corden, for some reason) who try to find a viral story to get back in the spotlight, and end up going to a town in Indiana to help a lesbian high school student who has been banned from bringing her girlfriend to the prom. The show has been considered a fun and heartwarming tale of acceptance, so the movie could be an easy pick for an average Academy voter who doesn’t look too hard (and you know that the Golden Globes will nominate the shirt out of this). It’s funny how this comes out the same year than Everybody’s Talking About Jamie, and then it’s not funny realizing that Film Twitter will pit the two movies against each other.
-The Trial of the Chicago 7: After getting a taste of the director’s taste with Molly’s Game, Aaron Sorkin wants more. For his second movie, he’s tackling one of his specialties: a courtroom drama. And this one is a period movie centered around the trial on countercultural activists in the late ‘60s, which immediately attracts a campaign of how “important” this movie is today’s culture. To add the final blow, we have a cast that includes Sacha Baron Cohen, Eddie Redmayne, Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, Jeremy Strong, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Frank Langella, William Hurt, Michael Keaton and Mark Rylance. If Sorkin can contain himself from going over the top (and with that cast, it would be so easy to surrender to bouts of screaming and winding speeches), this could be one of the top contenders.
-Those Who Wish Me Dead: Having made a good splash in the directorial waters with Wind River, Taylor Sheridan (also known for writing the Sicario movies, the Oscar-nominated Hell or High Water or that Yellowstone show that your uncle raves about on Facebook) returns with yet another modern Western. For this thriller based on the Michael Koryta novel, Angelina Jolie stars as a survival expert in the Montana wilderness who is tasked with protecting a teenager who witnessed a murder, while assassins are pursuing him and a wildfire grows closer.
-Untitled David O. Russell Project: Following the mop epic Joy, that came and went in theaters but still netted a Best Actress nomination for Jennifer Lawrence, the angriest director in Hollywood took a bit of a break (it didn’t help that he tried to do a really expensive show with Amazon starring Robert De Niro and Julianne Moore that fell apart when the Weinstein exposes sank everything). Now, he’s quickly putting together his return to the days of Oscar love that came with stuff like The Fighter, Silver Linings Playbook and American Hustle, with a new movie that is set to star Christian Bale, Margot Robbie and Michael B. Jordan. Even though we don’t know many details (some people are saying the movie is called Amsterdam) except for the fact the movie hasn’t started shooting yet, David is a quick guy, so he’ll get it ready for the fall festival circuit. If there’s one thing that David O. Russell knows (apart from avoid getting cancelled for abusing people like Lily Tomlin, Amy Adams and his niece), it’s to make loud actor showcases.
-Untitled Nora Fingscheidt Project: When Bird Box became one of the biggest hits on Netflix history, the streamer decided to keep itself in the Sandra Bullock business. Sandy’s next project for Ted Sarandos is a drama where she plays a woman who is released from prison after serving time for a violent crime, and re-enters a society that refuses to forgive her past. To get redemption, she searches her younger sister she was forced to leave behind. With the direction of Fingscheidt, who comes from an acclaimed directorial debut with Systemsprenger (Germany’s submission to the last Academy Awards), and a cast that also includes Viola Davis, Vincent D’Onofrio and Jon Bernthal, this will also hopefully try its luck later this year.
-Untitled Paul Thomas Anderson Project: We don’t know if this movie will be ready for the end of the year (although last time, he managed to sneak Phantom Thread under the buzzer and earn several Oscar nominations, including Best Picture), but PTA is apparently gonna start to shoot it soon, with the backing of Focus Features. After several movies with prestige locations and intricate production design, Film Twitter’s Holy Spirit will go back to the San Fernando Valley in the 1970s, to tell the story of a high school student who is also a successful child actor.
-Stillwater: Tom McCarthy’s recent career is certainly puzzling. After delivering the weird lows of The Cobbler, he bounced back with the Best Picture winner that was Spotlight. And following that, he… helped produce the 13 Reasons Why series. And following that… he made Timmy Failure: Mistakes Were Made, a Disney+ original movie. Now, he’s back to the award race with a drama starring Matt Damon, who plays a father who rushes from Oklahoma to France to help his daughter (Abigail Breslin), who is in prison after being suspected for a murder she claims she didn’t commit.
-West Side Story: To close things, we have to see one of the possible big contenders of the season, Steven Spielberg’s adaptation of the iconic musical that translates Romeo and Juliet to the context of a street gang war in 1950s New York. While the decision to adapt again something that has been a classic both in Broadway and in movie theaters almost 60 years ago is a challenge, the idea of Spielberg doing a musical closer to the stage version with Tony Kushner as the writer is too tempting for the average Academy voter, who is already saving a spot in major categories in case Steven nails it in December. However, there’s two question marks. First, how well will Ansel Elgort and newcomer Rachel Zegler stand out in the roles of Tony and Maria? And second, will In the Heights steal some of the thunder of this movie by being, you know, more modern?
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2019.12.09 20:57 _Revelator_ Lady voyager porn

Giant tortoises are slow of foot but quick of wit, while I struggle to keep up with my sheep
By Jeremy Clarkson (Sunday Times, Dec. 08)
For many years the giant tortoise was seen as an easy-to-catch lunch. After a long voyage to the tropics, sailors would disembark and immediately peel one of these giant beasts, which, they said, were delicious. Plus, the creature's hard-to-digest wrapping paper could then be sold to a Victorian doctor's wife as an exotic centrepiece for the hall table.
Later, after various animal enthusiasts decided the tortoises shouldn't be eaten, no matter how wonderfully buttery their fat might be, Hollywood turned up and gave them another role. We've all seen Jurassic Park. Well, the grunting noises made by the velociraptors were actually recordings of giant tortoises doing sex.
Today they are protected and their porn noises may not be used in films. Children cannot ride around on them and they cannot be turned onto their backs for a laugh. We have all fallen in love with their enormousness, and when it was reported in 2012 that the last of one species — a chap called Lonesome George — had died, there was international sadness.
It's always interesting to try to figure out why some animals work their way into our hearts while others do not. I've long suspected that unless it's cute, magnificent or delicious, we don't care two hoots if it becomes extinct. But boffins in Japan may have come up with another reason the giant tortoise is so universally adored. Yes, it's slow-moving and has the metabolic rate of a stone, but they reckon that behind the placid, Volvo-y exterior, it's actually quite clever.
Ten years ago they taught a group of captive tortoises in Vienna zoo that if they bit on the end of a particular coloured stick, they would get no food, and that if they bit on a different coloured stick, they would. When the scientists returned nearly a decade later, three of the creatures were tested again. And they could still remember which stick did what. So now scientists are saying that a giant tortoise is basically Sir Tim Berners-Lee with a shell on his back.
I already knew this, because think about the human being. The Vikings had visited France and north America but reckoned that the slate-grey slab of frozen rock we call Iceland would be a much better place to raise a tribe. Then you had the Romans, who could have lived under a wisteria tree in Tuscany but decided Doncaster would be better. And Genghis Khan? He was raised in the bewitching open spaces of Mongolia but dreamt of the day he could move to Kiev.
We saw none of this idiocy from Johnny Tortoise. God knows where he started out as a species, but today he's found only in the Galapagos Islands and the Seychelles. This means he must have walked, at half a mile an hour, through forests and deserts and moorland. And then swum, with his house on his back, for hundreds of miles, across open ocean, until he found what are probably the two most beautiful places on earth. Coincidence? I doubt it.
I've been to the island in the Seychelles where thousands of giant tortoises womble about, eating leaves and thinking about cold fusion. And it only took me about no minutes to see yet another example of their intelligence.
The island has a grass runway, on which planes carrying noisy and annoying tourists land. Now think about that. You walk halfway round the world in search of paradise, and then, when you're about 150, the serenity is shattered by a steady torrent of honeymoon couples.
To solve the problem, the tortoises have decided to live on the runway. They can't be shooed away because, well, they're tortoises. And they can't be carried because they weigh nearly half a ton. This means they've been more successful at closing an airport than those Extinction Rebellion halfwits at Heathrow.
I don't think tortoises are the only animals that have genuine intelligence either. Look at your dog. He can fetch a ball and answer to his name and he knows not to urinate on the furniture. But what he knows most of all is that if he behaves in this way, like a human simpleton, you will give him biscuits and a bed by the Aga.
Left to his own devices, he becomes Alan Turing. Look at those wild dogs you see in places such as India and Burma and South America. Look at how quickly they walk. It's like they have a purpose, like they know where they are going and why. Their ears are alert. Their tails are up. You rarely see humans in these parts of the world moving with such intent. I reckon that when we are not looking, dogs read books.
And I'm not sure that sheep are far behind. They are widely reckoned to be the stupidest animals on earth, but I've had a flock for a few months and I'm beginning to wonder. They are perfectly happy to pretend that they are hemmed in by the electric fences and walls we build, but when they want to move on, they just do. Our manmade obstacles are nothing to them.
And I think they have a sense of humour. I spent two hours the other morning running around, trying to get them into a new field. And three minutes after I succeeded, they all jumped clean over a Becher's Brook of a wall and back into the field they'd just left. So I spent two hours rounding them up again, and three minutes later they jumped the wall again. After a third time, I knew they were doing it for a laugh. To humiliate the idiotic, out-of-breath biped.
There's more evidence of animal intelligence too. When they need a new leader, monkeys and zebras and lions don't sit around arguing about who'd be the best man for the job. The two candidates put forward their case, and there is always unanimous and immediate agreement afterwards.
Humans, however, listen to the candidates for months, and then half of us decide to vote for the person who'll definitely lead the tribe into a fiery pit of brimstone, bankruptcy and despair.
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And here's a model I reversed earlier: The Clarkson Review: Volkswagen T-Cross
By Jeremy Clarkson (Sunday Times, Dec. 08)
I have eight jobs. I know this because it's what I always tell people. But the funny thing is that I'm so busy, I actually can't remember what the eighth job is. Am I a rent boy at night? Do I have a county lines gang? Am I the foreign secretary? No idea.
What I do know is that I'm sitting here now panicking about what I'll put in the other two columns I write, knowing that before the week's out I must turn my attention to the next Grand Tour special while also hosting Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?. Then there's the DriveTribe operation that needs feeding, and its new spin-off, FoodTribe. And I'm building a house, and a shop, and writing a book, and all of this is set against my new role as a farmer, which occupies my mind and my time seven days a week from dawn until way past dusk.
This morning, for example, I was up long before you because four of my sheep have blood spurting from their ankles. And then I needed to move 10 tons of stone from the barn to the Big Silence, which is a field, so a local chap called Gerald can turn them into a wall. While transferring some money to my daughter's account because she's penniless and her flat is falling down.
This might explain why I forgot to drive the latest car they sent round. Wait. That's not strictly true. I did drive it, but only to reverse it from where it had been left into a little alley between two barns, so a couple of gigantic, hissing artics could deliver 46 tons of glyphosate. The problem was that the alley into which I'd put the car isn't very visible, which is why, after I'd telehandled the glyphosate into the long barn and needed to rush to a charity dinner in London to buy some signed rugby balls and a night in a lady's box at the Royal Albert Hall, I forgot it was there and leapt into my Range Rover.
When I got back the next day — late because I'd got a bit carried away the night before — the Volkswagen had gone.And now here I am, wondering how on earth I can review a car I've only driven, in reverse, for about 16ft.
What I can say straight away is that, for the entire duration of this drive, there was a terrible vibration. Does it do that when you go forwards? No idea. I never found out. I can also tell you it was a Volkswagen.
So I went, before I embarked on this column, to VW's website to find out as much as I could. And it was here that I discovered that it's called the T-Cross. I was invited to click on a link that would give me more details but all I got was some pictures of Cara Delevingne. I was even invited to watch a video of her, which I did. Several times. No mention was made of the car.
So I scrolled down to find out, for example, how much it costs, but I had to wade past pictures of a ginger man with a ponytail and another pretty model in a purple skirt before, finally, I learnt that the range starts at just £17,395. That is much less than I was expecting and I'd like to give VW's marketing people a bit of advice at this point. Cara is lovely. And we all enjoy watching her on the internet. But if I'd been in your shoes, I'd have nosed my strategy on the surprisingly low price.
Underneath, it's a VW Polo, and there's nothing wrong with that. The Polo is a fine car. I have driven one of those — forwards — and I liked it very much. It's what I'd buy if I were after a car of this type, but I'm out of step. Everyone else in the world wants their car to be on stilts, so they will be more interested in the high-riding T-Cross.
What I can tell you is that it's very good-looking. I know this because when the lorries arrived and their drivers asked me to move it, I thought: "That's very good-looking."
It also has a very good interior with lots of snazzy trim. I know this because when I climbed inside, I thought: "This trim's very snazzy." It's one of the reasons I'm so surprised by the price. It didn't sound cheap, either. The door, when I closed it, made the exact same noise as a hard-hit pheasant landing in a well-ploughed field.
It also sounds nice when you start it up, because the tiny 1-litre turbocharged engine has only three cylinders. This means it's inherently unbalanced, like a V8, which means the noise it makes is flawed and therefore human.
There are two petrol versions on offer, one of which produces 94 horsepower and the other 113. That's 113 horsepower from 1 litre, and that's remarkable. Maybe that's why it vibrates so much. But, all things considered, you're better off saving your money and getting the cheaper version. If you want to achieve a tyre-screeching personal best on your way to work every morning, you'd probably be better off with something else. Such as a Lamborghini Aventador.
I can also tell you, because I waded past more pictures of things that have nothing to do with the car, that it's crammed full of cubbyholes and that the rear seat slides forwards and backwards. But that's it, I'm afraid.
So. Conclusions. Yes, this is the only car I've tested that had a serious fault for the entire duration of my test drive. But I can't really mark it down for that as the "entire duration" was only 15 seconds. And I only went backwards.
Other things? Well, assuming the reversing issue is a one-off and not intentional, which would be mad, the T-Cross is good value, cheap to run, charismatic and practical. And if you want a small SUV, that's probably enough.
I'd like to say at this point that I'm pleased to have completed a review on a car that I drove for such a short distance, but I'm not, because in the week ahead I have an even bigger problem. I have three trips to London planned and I can't use the Mercedes I've had on test, because it's electric.
I can't charge it up at the farm because I've done that with an electric car in the past and it blows the fuse box into space. I can't charge it in London, either, because the entire infrastructure has been swamped by sanctimonious gits in Teslas. And I can't take it to a charge point at my local restaurant because that would mean sitting around for an hour or two, and I really don't have time for that.
This is the weird thing about electric cars. You need to have eight jobs to earn enough to afford one. Which means you won't have time in your life to charge it up.
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And here's the Sun column: "Get your kids to read a Jack Reacher book and they’ll never go on social media again"
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2019.11.27 10:37 SunValleySun List of True Crime Podcasts - one case per podcast/season - with descriptions

I always find that the suggestions for one case podcasts are scattered among comments, but I wanted to put a list together for those who were seeking some suggestions and in hope that I would find some new Podcasts to listen to – to make this easier I have put these in order of when the first episode was released. I will of course missed countless Podcasts, please let me know what I have missed and I will happily add them to my list. Enjoy. Follow the updates on Instagram @truecrime_podcasts
Update: I have put a \* next to the podcasts that are highly rated on podcast platforms. These are not suggestions by me, but here for the purpose of those that are after highly rated podcasts.


Added 2 December 2019 (not in date order)
Added 4 December 2019 (not in date order):

Added 8 December (not in date order):

Turns out Reddit has a word limit: Update continued on Post 2.

Don't forget to follow me on Instagram @ truecrime_podcasts
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2019.11.14 21:18 levilarrington Lady voyager porn

ARGUMENT: The "Destination" "articles" are non-informative. If you are seeking information on Seattle, please ask a coworker or dentist. If you are without a job and a dental plan, there are many vagrants out near the sea that will tell you about The Olde Land of Puget. Further, there is no entertainment value in these posts. There are no stories, humor, or lessons to be learned. These "pieces" are the equivalent of taking a dump in your neighbor's yard and running away. Therefore, it is in your best interest to move on.
If you have not moved on by this point, I cannot stress enough you are wasting your time. It takes five minutes (Seattle) to an hour (Algona) to read these "articles" and I stress again that you will find nothing life affirming or uplifting. There will be no sunrises. There will be no sunsets. There will be no discourse on parking or homeless people. Unless parking and homeless people enter into the “article” because I, myself, park on homeless people a great deal, so they will enter into some of these "articles".
I honestly have nothing against homeless people. They are just there in every spot I want.
You're really on your own now. There's nothing I'm going to do to stop you. I beg you to stop reading at this point, because there's a monster at the end of this "article" and it is bad writing. At no time do I use periods or colons or those curvy line thingys to help illustrate the English language. Further, at no point have I spent any time in a "school" or whatever you establishment folks like to call your brain washing facilities. And let me be blunt: I hate hyphens. I hate them like the deserts hate the rain.
If you’ve ever wondered how to get the hell out of Seattle - it’s SeaTac. But, like any voyage home, the darkest moments are just before the light.
There is one shining example of culinary greatatude, however. That’s 13 Coins.
With a “13”.
It’s not what it used to be, but it’s still a damn fine restaurant. And they have a lounge singer on the weekends. Sit at the bar and you can watch the cooks make your food. They also give you an anti pasta tray (not what it used to be) of veggies and salami. I recommend breakfast.
Of course, the airport is in SeaTac. Do you like trains? Because there’s trains inside. Like subway systems, they are the fastest way to get you really pissed off. You get off the plane and it’s like “Time to go home” and it’s not time to go home. It’s time to go ride on a train.
Back in the day, the airport was free of security and checkpoints and stuff. This was before terrorism was invented. So, you could go roam free in the airport. In high school it was a thing to do: go to the airport and play tag, go to the airport and play hide and seek, go to the airport with walkie talkies and listen to control tower talk. Now a days all of those things will get you shot.
If you’re a smoker, I recommend taking Alaska and drinking at the Vintage bar. You can order a drink, run out to the smoker’s pavement, repeat. All before security.
I went to the Alaska lounge once when I was flying First Class because I’m a large type prick. The place sucked. For those that are poor - the lounge is SUPPOSED to be an exclusive place where you can drink for free and get free choice food for flying First Class. It’s not like that. You get two free drinks and some crackers. OK, there were some bananas. But that’s it. Also, you have to pay if you want good liquor. Also, it’s not exclusive. The place was PACKED. Like I had to sit next to another prick. There is nothing more horrible than sitting next to someone as horrible as you are when they also know they and yourself are horrible. It’s embarrassing.
If you can’t afford to be embarrassed that way, there’s a SUB POP store in the concourse that will show you just how “alternative” those old bands are now.
I’ve never really had a problem with security at SeaTac. They’ve typically been good. There’s always the horse’s ass yelling at everyone to get in the correct line in a sarcastic tone fit for three year olds with massive head wounds. The ones at O’Hare are total pricks, though. One guy was pissed that I didn’t have the exact same haircut I did on my driver’s license.
Cabs? If you need to catch one they are exactly where the cabs shouldn’t be located. They are not by luggage. They are upstairs and across the way in parking. This can be confusing to someone who figures that parking and cabs would be in totally separate areas based on their functions. I can’t speak for all cab drivers in Washington, but I will say the ones in even Chicago are way less deranged than out here. One time I got a guy who basically told me everyone in New Orleans should be shot after Katrina. The last one I had out of SeaTac basically told me that Somalians are horrible people and then went into an F bomb fit about everything Somalis do to piss him off. In Chicago it’s just “Hey, where you going? How long you staying?” In Seattle it’s angry racial hatred from a stranger.
There’s an Ivar’s in SeaTac. Ivar’s used to be a Washington tradition. Now, it should just be called “Haven’t Had Seafood in Awhile!” Ivar Haglund, a folk singer and submarine enthusiast, opened the first Ivar’s on the piers next to the now gone aquarium.
Because who doesn’t want to see what they’re eating floating in shit infested water?
However, Ivar’s was a big deal back in the day and I still remember the clam commercials with clams running around on the beach almost like the Rainier bottles.
Ivar’s hosted the Seattle Fourth of July events up until the late 2000s. I’m kinda surprised they were making that kind of money all the way up until then. Ivar Haglund was looked upon as a charitable saint in the area and now they put the Fourth of July money towards charity.
But this guy gets cooler: he bought the Smith Tower. The fucking Smith Tower. He bought it. He also ran as port commissioner of Seattle as a goof and FUCKING WON.
I don’t like seafood, so I couldn’t tell you how good it is, but it looks like it’s gone down hill. Like I said, I don’t hear about people bragging about going to Ivar’s anymore.
I do recommend getting drunk there on the pier. The beer is cheap and you can sit and look at the water. I remember this one time I was going up to Victoria and I got drunk there. Then I got drunk on the ferry. Then the ferry got a log stuck in the motor or something. So, then we had to go back. Then I had to wait for another ferry and repeat the process. I really wrecked that wedding.
In 2009 there was a story that Ivar had submerged billboards underwater in the Sound back in the 60s to promote Ivar's to submarines. They eventually pulled one out of the water, too. But it was a hoax. Like the moon landing.
Ivar’s also owns Kidd Valley. Which is OK. It’s not great. I was stoned once and it tasted really good. But then I went sober and it was just OK. I’m not advocating weed here, by the way.
One time I went into Kidd Valley with about five orders from people at work. Like six burgers, five cokes, a milkshake, six fries….I was alone. Everyone stayed behind. I was the only customer in the restaurant.
The woman behind the counter asked me “Is this for here or to go?”
That’s when I realized I had a weight problem.
But back to SeaTac, this will be the first Destination to feature wonderful Highway 99. What a highway! Back in the day it was just car dealerships, porn, and teriyaki. Now it’s vape, dealerships, and Thai. Things change. I can remember buying porn out on 99 as far back as 1997. Walking in, alone, pretending you think all the titles are funny and that you have no interest in sex even though you’re alone in a porn store, then buying Lady Victoria’s Poop Chute Party Pt. 9. There was even a bargain bin that was mostly Sears catalogs. Later, I would go with girlfriends and act like I had never “Been in a crazy store like this!!!!”
There’s tons of parking garages and lots around SeaTac if you want all your valuables to get stolen. I think my dad had like 30 pairs of skis ripped off. Which, why did he leave them in there? Well, if you travel and ski as much as my dad did you probably have money to lose 30 pairs of skis.
There’s a ton of things to do in SeaTac if you have a heroin problem and don’t want to see anyone you know. I don’t know anyone who lives there. I don’t know how one lives in SeaTac or where and I don’t want to know. I would imagine it would be like when I lived in Northgate and Highway 99 was just a few blocks up. Highway 99 would give any neighborhood a bad name just by being near it.
So, it’s not that SeaTac sucks, it’s that Highway 99 is a vein of fecal matter running up and down Puget Sound.
P.S. When “researching” this “article”, Ken’s Baggage and Frozen Food Storage came up as the number three thing to do in SeaTac.
submitted by levilarrington to DestinationWa [link] [comments]


2019.10.01 18:31 TheNormalAlternative Porn voyager lady

My pick of the best concerts to catch this week in Manhattan or Brooklyn:
Tuesday - 10/1
Ty Segall (performing Melted) @ Bowery Ballroom
Greg Laswell @ (le) poisson rouge (SOLD OUT)
Dares, Shadow Year, Clone @ Mercury Lounge
Porches, Little Becky Credit Cards (DJ Set) - The Sultan Room (SOLD OUT)
Built to Spill at @ Webster Hall (SOLD OUT)
Wednesday - 10/2
Birdgangs, Top Nachos & Monsterwatch @ ALPHAVILLE
Ty Segall (performing Melted) @ Bowery Ballroom
New Myths, Gesserit, Jelly Kelly and Ash Jesus @ Brooklyn Bazaar
Electric Six, Naughty Clouds @ Knitting Factory
Built to Spill @ Music Hall of Williamsburg
Thursday - 10/3
Ty Segall (performing Goodbye Bread) @ Bowery Ballroom
White Denim with Abram Shook @ (le) poisson rouge
Built to Spill @ Music Hall of Williamsburg
Thursdays 4 a Cause with Money / Bad Kiss / Should've / Dale Jr. @ Our Wicked Lady
Incubus at Radio City Music Hall
Big Bliss, Shop Talk, 1000 Yard Stare, Clone @ Trans-Pecos
Friday - 10/4
Ty Segall (performing Emotional Mugger) @ Bowery Ballroom
Psychedelic Porn Crumpets w/ Meatbodies, Acid Dad @ Music Hall of Williamsburg
Cindy Cane's Haunted House 2 feat. Cindy Cane + HNRY FLWR + Whiner + Johnny Dynamite + Romantic Thrillers @ Our Wicked Lady
Surf Curse w/ Teen Body @ Rough Trade (SOLD OUT)
Human People, Painted Zeros, Bueno, Fern Mayo @ Trans-Pecos
Saturday - 10/5
ESSi (Record Release), Upper Wilds, Russian Baths, Wsabi Fox @ ALPHAVILLE
The Avett Brothers with Lake Street Dive @ Barclays Center
Ty Segall (performing Manipulator) @ Brooklyn Steel
The Mad Doctors' (final show ever) w/ Sun Voyager, Vamanos, Matt Witte @ The Gutter
Thrasher x Vans Death Match NYC feat. Beach Fossils, Pouya, Mannequin Pussy, and more @ Knockdown Center
Pottery, Future Punx, Youbet @ Union Pool
Sunday - 10/6
FTP Presents: Show Up For the Immigrant Defense Project feat. Nick Hakim + Active Bird Community + sidney gish + Sad13 @ Baby's All Right
Thrasher x Vans Death Match feat. Obituary, Agnostic Front and more @ Knockdown Center
White Fence at Rough Trade NYC
Everclear w/ Chapell @ Sony Hall
submitted by TheNormalAlternative to NYCConcerts [link] [comments]


2018.06.19 20:57 xXx_LI_xXx Add whatever the text in this post describes to Minecraft

"Call me Ishmael," Moby-Dick begins, in one of the most recognizable opening lines in English-language literature. The narrator, an observant young man setting out from Manhattan, has experience in the merchant marine but has recently decided his next voyage will be on a whaling ship. On a cold, gloomy night in December, he arrives at the Spouter-Inn in New Bedford, Massachusetts, and agrees to share a bed with a then-absent stranger. When his bunk mate, a heavily tattooed Polynesian harpooner named Queequeg, returns very late and discovers Ishmael beneath his covers, both men are alarmed, but the two quickly become close friends and decide to sail together from Nantucket, Massachusetts on a whaling voyage. In Nantucket, the pair signs on with the Pequod, a whaling ship that is soon to leave port. The ship's captain, Ahab, is nowhere to be seen; nevertheless, they are told of him - a "grand, ungodly, godlike man,"[25] according to one of the owners, who has "been in colleges as well as 'mong the cannibals." The two friends encounter a mysterious man named Elijah on the dock after they sign their papers and he hints at troubles to come with Ahab. The mystery grows on Christmas morning when Ishmael spots dark figures in the mist, apparently boarding the Pequod shortly before it sets sail that day. The ship's officers direct the early voyage while Ahab stays in his cabin. The chief mate is Starbuck, a serious, sincere Quaker and fine leader; second mate is Stubb, happy-go-lucky and cheerful and always smoking his pipe; the third mate is Flask, short and stout but thoroughly reliable. Each mate is responsible for a whaling boat, and each whaling boat of the Pequod has its own pagan harpooneer assigned to it. Some time after sailing, Ahab finally appears on the quarter-deck one morning, an imposing, frightening figure whose haunted visage sends shivers over the narrator. (A white scar, reportedly from a thunderbolt, runs down his face and it is hinted that it continues the length of his body.) One of his legs is missing from the knee down and has been replaced by a prosthesis fashioned from a sperm whale's jawbone. Soon gathering the crewmen together, with a rousing speech Ahab secures their support for his single, secret purpose for this voyage: hunting down and killing Moby Dick, an old, very large sperm whale, with a snow-white hump and mottled skin, that crippled Ahab on his last whaling voyage. Only Starbuck shows any sign of resistance to the charismatic but monomaniacal captain. The first mate argues repeatedly that the ship's purpose should be to hunt whales for their oil, with luck returning home profitably, safely, and quickly, but not to seek out and kill Moby Dick in particular - and especially not for revenge. Eventually even Starbuck acquiesces to Ahab's will, though harboring misgivings. The mystery of the dark figures seen before the Pequod set sail is explained during the voyage's first lowering for whales. Ahab has secretly brought along his own boat crew, including a mysterious harpooneer named Fedallah, an inscrutable figure with a sinister influence over Ahab. Later, while watching one night over a captured whale carcass, Fedallah darkly prophecies to Ahab hints regarding their twin deaths. The novel describes numerous "gams," social meetings of two ships on the open sea. Crews normally visit each other during a gam, captains on one vessel and chief mates on the other. Mail may be exchanged and the men talk of whale sightings or other news. For Ahab, however, there is but one relevant question to ask of another ship: "Hast seen the White Whale?" After meeting several other whaling ships, which have their own peculiar stories, the Pequod enters the Pacific Ocean. Queequeg becomes deathly ill and requests that a coffin be built for him by the ship's carpenter. Just as everyone has given up hope, Queequeg changes his mind, deciding to live after all, and recovers quickly. His coffin becomes his sea chest, and is later caulked and pitched to replace the Pequod's life buoy. Soon word is heard from other whalers of Moby Dick. The jolly Captain Boomer of the Samuel Enderby has lost an arm to the whale, and is stunned at Ahab's burning need for revenge. Next they meet the Rachel, which has seen Moby Dick very recently. As a result of the encounter, one of its boats is missing; the captain's youngest son had been aboard. The Rachel's captain begs Ahab to aid in the search for the missing boat, but Ahab is resolute. The Pequod's captain is very near the White Whale now and will not stop to help. Finally the Delight is met, even as its captain buries a sailor who had been killed by Moby Dick. Starbuck begs Ahab one final time to reconsider his thirst for vengeance, but to no avail. The next day, the Pequod meets Moby Dick. For two days, the Pequod's crew pursues the whale, which wreaks widespread destruction, including the disappearance of the 'Parsee'. On the third day, Moby Dick rises up to reveal the Parsee tied to him by harpoon ropes, clearly dead. Even after the initial battle on the third day, as Moby Dick swims away from the Pequod, Starbuck exhorts Ahab one last time to desist, observing that "Moby-Dick seeks thee not. It is thou, thou, that madly seekest him!" Ahab ignores this voice of reason and continues with his ill-fated chase. As the three boats sail out to hunt him, Moby Dick damages two of them, forcing them to go back to the ship and leaving only Ahab's vessel intact. Ahab harpoons the whale, but the harpoon-line breaks. Moby Dick then rams the Pequod itself, which begins to sink. As Ahab harpoons the whale again, the unfolding harpoon-line catches him around his neck and he is dragged into the depths of the sea by the diving Moby Dick. The boat is caught up in the whirlpool of the sinking ship, which takes almost all the crew to their deaths. Only Ishmael survives, clinging to Queequeg's coffin-turned-life buoy for an entire day and night before the Rachel rescues him.
It happened again. I know it can''t keep happening and yet here I stand, my mind swirling with shame and disappointment. The last of my high spirits shot onto a tissue and discarded. I am looking at her smiling face now. She looks so happy and up for adventure. But I just imagine her naked.
I've been watching her show all day. I can't control myself or my urges anymore. If I was a normal human being, I'd get this reaction to watching normal porn. But I am not normal I am sick. I am internally screaming at myself "WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS!" but I do not have an answer.
She haunts my dreams. I lay awake at night and hold off sleep for as long as I can before I finally give in to my tiredness. I am on my couch. Suddenly she appears besides me. "Let's go for an adventure" she says and drops her pants. I do as well. I get on top, as always and we make sweet sweet love. As she climaxes she yells "SNIPER, NO SNIPING! SNIPER NO SNIPING!" and at that moment I snipe my load into her warm cartoon pussy. Only to wake and find that my boxers are wet and sticky.
I can't stand it anymore. It's tearing my apart, it's tearing my wife apart. She no longer wants to wear the Dora the Explorer outfit during sex anymore and I have since lost sexual desire for her. Today she handed my divorce papers. My life is over folks.
[Chorus] Ah! Welcome to the crypt! Give me your little thing ah, ah Give me your little thing ah, ay Give me your little thing ah, ah Give me your little thing ah, ay Give me your little thing ah, ah Give me your little thing ah, ay Give me your little thing ah, ah Move over here, move over there
Give me your little thing ay, take (your thingy) Give me your little thing ay, take (ah) (your thingy) Give me your little thing ay, take (ah) (your thingy) Give me your little thing ay, take (ah) (your thingy)
[Verse 1] Give it to me, give it to me so hot Let's go here, to the little corner, okay Give it to me, 'cause you're so pretty, baby (hehehehe) Give it to me, give it to me here, give it to me to takeaway (wuh!) I like how you mess it up (wuh!) Move that boom boom and scream
[Chorus] Ah! Welcome to the crypt! Give me your little thing ah, ah Give me your little thing ah, ay Give me your little thing ah, ah Give me your little thing ah, ay Give me your little thing ah, ah Give me your little thing ah, ay Give me your little thing ah, ah Move over here, move over there
Give me your little thing ay, take (your thingy) Give me your little thing ay, take (ah) (your thingy) Give me your little thing ay, take (ah) (your thingy) Give me your little thing ay, take (ah) (your thingy)
[Verse 2] Wow, baby You got me crazy, my lady When you move it, you make me crazy So move that boom boom, baby, okay Give it to me, give it to me here, give it to me to takeaway (wuh!) I like how you mess it up (wuh!) Move that boom boom and scream
[Chorus] Ah! Welcome to the crypt! Give me your little thing ah, ah Give me your little thing ah, ay Give me your little thing ah, ah Give me your little thing ah, ay Give me your little thing ah, ah Give me your little thing ah, ay Give me your little thing ah, ah Move over here, move over there
Give me your little thing ay, take (your thingy) Give me your little thing ay, take (ah) (your thingy) Give me your little thing ay, take (ah) (your thingy) Give me your little thing ay, take
[Outro] (Give me your little thing)
I don't know why people fill their shitty suggestions with these posts anymore.
submitted by xXx_LI_xXx to shittymcsuggestions [link] [comments]


2018.04.15 02:43 kaunis Voyager porn lady

/worldnews

/news /UpliftingNews
  • trevorsandler2016
    Toddler who beat cancer twice heads home after 8-month hospital stay
    Comments || Link
  • madazzahatter
    [Title Post] Chinese universities add HIV test kits to vending machines to tackle virus' rise in taboo sex culture: Along with chips, instant noodles and soft drinks, students in a growing number of Chinese universities now have the option of also grabbing an HIV test kit to go from their campus vending machine.
    Comments || Link
/nottheonion /science
  • mvea
    [Title Post]Peptide-based biogenic dental product may cure cavities: Researchers have designed a convenient and natural product that uses proteins to rebuild tooth enamel and treat dental cavities. The peptide-enabled tech allows the deposition of 10 to 50 micrometers of new enamel on the teeth after each use.
    Comments || Link
  • GreenFrog76
    [Title Post] Sea Turtles Use Magnetic Fields to Find Their Birthplace Beach
    Comments || Link
/history
  • JohnJacobAdolf
    A 1776 excerpt from John Adam's diary where he describes the time he had to share a tiny bed with Benjamin Franklin and, instead of sleeping, they had an argument about whether to keep the windows open or closed. Franklin eventually won the argument when Adams got too tired and fell asleep.
    Comments || Link
/space /Futurology
  • mvea
    Tesla battery degradation at less than 10% after over 160,000 miles, according to latest data
    Comments || Link
/technology /dataisbeautiful /IAmA
  • atlasobscura
    IAmA Rare fruit hunter who travels the world documenting little known and bizarre species of fruit. AMA!
    Comments
  • tault002
    I'm a news reporter in Portland, Oregon. A montage of me saying dumb things on air hit the front page this week. Ask me anything!
    Comments
/explainlikeimfive
  • EngagingFears
    ELI5: How do nurses, drug users, etc inject a drug directly into a vein? How do they know the needle tip hasn't gone through the vein or even missed it completely?
    Comments
/todayilearned
  • hafetysazard
    TIL Hugh Jackman never knew wolverines were real animals; he mistakenly studied wolves in preparation for the iconic super hero role.
    Comments || Link
/movies
  • elflamingo2
    Happy Friday the 13th! I made an illustrated info-graphic going through all of Jason Voorhees' various looks and stats.
    Comments || Link
/books /Art /OldSchoolCool /pics /funny /gifs /educationalgifs /mildlyinteresting /MostBeautiful /EarthPorn /waterporn /HistoryPorn /aww /Awwducational
  • ArchChronicles
    Kakapos are making a sweet little comeback in New Zealand. A few new chicks have finally arrived in the country, due to a slight but very significant baby boom. The chicks are the first to be born in three years.
    Comments || Link
Something New Everyday we’ll feature a selected small subreddit and its top content. It's a fun way to include and celebrate smaller subreddits.
Today's subreddit is... /likeus Its top 3 all time posts
submitted by kaunis to tldr [link] [comments]


2018.04.02 02:02 kaunis Lady voyager porn

/worldnews

  • bittens
    Dolphins forced to break into nets to find food by overfishing in the Mediterranean, report says
    Comments || Link
  • DoremusJessup
    The death of the world’s last male northern white rhinoceros this month led a Kenyan government official to declare anyone caught possessing ivory should be sentenced to life in prison
    Comments || Link
  • nahkt
    [Title Post] Facebook Employees Are Reportedly Deleting Controversial Internal Messages
    Comments || Link
/news
  • GoldMEng
    [Title Post] London Murder Rate Overtakes New York for First Time Ever after Spate of Fatal Stabbings and Shootings
    Comments || Link
  • relevantlife
    ‘Stop protecting sexual predators’: Outburst interrupts LDS General Conference
    Comments || Link
  • randomentity1
    Facebook Employees in an Uproar Over Executive’s Leaked Memo
    Comments || Link
/science
  • mvea
    A new study finds that it takes about 50 hours of interaction to move from acquaintance to casual friend, about 90 hours to move from casual friend to friend, and more than 200 hours to qualify as a best friend. How people spent their time and what they talked about affected how close they became.
    Comments || Link
/history /space /Futurology
  • Wagamaga
    [Title Post] By 2020, China will have completed its nationwide facial recognition and surveillance network, achieving near-total surveillance of urban residents, including in their homes via smart TVs and smartphones.
    Comments || Link
/technology
  • mvea
    Here’s How To Plug One Of The Biggest Privacy Holes In The Internet - An upgrade to DNS, the internet’s address book, would make it harder for ISPs to know where you surf, and for hackers to hijack your traffic.
    Comments || Link
  • mvea
    Report: Facebook Staff Suddenly Concerned About Privacy, Specifically Theirs
    Comments || Link
/dataisbeautiful /askscience
  • ViddyDoodah
    How did they beam back live images from the moon before the invention of the CCD or digital sensor?? What device turned the image into radio waves?
    Comments
/AskReddit /explainlikeimfive
  • thundercunth12
    ELI5: why does fresh brewed coffee taste better than 3 hour old coffee. What happens to the liquid over time?
    Comments
/todayilearned
  • marcvanh
    TIL Easter and April Fool’s Day have not fallen on the same day since 1956, but it will happen again in 11 years.
    Comments || Link
/GifRecipes /Cooking /gaming /movies
  • BunyipPouch
    New Image from Spy-Thriller 'Terminal' - Starring Margot Robbie, Simon Pegg, Mike Myers, and Dexter Fletcher
    Comments || Link
/sports
  • TooShiftyForYou
    William Karlsson of the Vegas Golden Knights made an unassisted, shorthanded, between-the-legs goal
    Comments || Link
  • drsjsmith
    36-Year-Old Accountant Called In As Emergency NHL Goalie — And He Crushed It
    Comments || Link
/books /Art /television /WritingPrompts
  • MamaMitsu
    [WP] Your entire life, you've been told you're deathly allergic to bees. You've always had people protecting you from them, be it your mother or a hired hand. Today, one slips through and lands on your shoulder. You hear a tiny voice say "Your Majesty, what are your orders?"
    Comments
/OldSchoolCool /gifs /educationalgifs /oddlysatisfying /interestingasfuck /MostBeautiful /EarthPorn /waterporn /aww /Awwducational
  • pikachuuuuu
    Rabbits are the third most abandoned pet, and thousands of "Easter bunnies" bought as pets end up in shelters after Easter each year.
    Comments || Link
Something New Everyday we’ll feature a selected small subreddit and its top content. It's a fun way to include and celebrate smaller subreddits.
Today's subreddit is... /killthecameraman Its top 3 all time posts
submitted by kaunis to tldr [link] [comments]


2016.04.25 06:54 GoityePowerhouse The Bada-Bing club

This is Chapter Two of -- "A Bird falls to the earth and then dies"  
Chapter One: 'The Norman Lindsay Original': https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/4g31ym/the_norman_lindsay_original/  
It was two weeks later ---before I saw anyone from the wedding.
 
Apparently, Abe and Joe had considered for a long time --wether or not it was best to take me to the hospital that day. In the end, after feeding me water for half an hour, they had decided it would be ok --to stick me in a taxi, and tell the driver where I lived. I had gotten home fine---eaten some corn chips--and then had gone straight to bed at 3 in the afternoon.
 
Abe at least, had been worried enough as a friend, to call me up and ask how I was doing. I told him I was fine, of course, and laughed at myself for greening out. I didn't really try to explain to him --what had happened--how do you explain something like that anyway? Without seeming mentally ill. We talked briefly about the wedding, then decided it would probably be better, to meet in person---and discuss things in a more intimate setting. So Abe agreed to come and meet me, near where I was living, in Darlinghurst.
 
It is a fairly interesting area of Sydney, (the surrounding suburbs of my old Art Deco apartment). Potts point and the nearby areas, are more tied up with every stage of Australian colonial history, than any in the country. I say all this, with a kind of bias, having more recently been involved in researching the area--although at the time of the wedding, I probably knew as much or less as any foreigner reading this. I am a historian by profession, you see, and that time I met up with Abe, was the exact point when I had been initially contracted privately-- to do a research report about Wollomoloo. (Precisely what that research report involved, I'll get more intricate with, as it relates to the horrible coming events.)
 
But just for the purpose of setting, I'll give you some introductory facts about the area I live in, right now. Potts point, Darlinghurst, Wooloomooloo, and Kings cross are a series of suburbs in the North East end of Hexton, Sydney, quite close to Elizabeth Bay, and Darling Harbour. Mosman (where the wedding was held) is on the other side of the Northern suburbs of Sydney. They were colonised not long after the discovery of Botany Bay, and the arrival of the First Fleet. The area, was seen by the first Fleeters, mostly as an uninhabitable place, with a sort of --endless forest --along the beach--and nothing but dirty swampland to the South.
 
The indigenous folk, referred to the area as 'Wooloomooloo', or rather 'Walla Mulla' ---A phrase roughly interpreted as 'place of blood' ---although there's grim evidence for this actually meaning 'place of plenty' (deriving from the bountiful coastland where the indigenous folk fished). During the height of colonial history--it became a real estate for the wealthy--being occupied by enormous grand homesteads. Various waves of migration and social change, and Kings Cross is now the red light district of Sydney, whilst Potts Point and the other areas, still hold a great prestige and aristocratic heritage. The area now boasts a diversity of wealth and poverty, local occupant and tourist, prostitute and barista, bohemian and fascist, hobo and rich investor. It's also a rich multicultural hub. There are all sorts of wonderful heritage buildings, grand old hotels, and art neaveau buildings. There's loads of lovely old town houses awaiting the gentrification of their peeling paintwork and chipped facades. Terrace houses, and other wonderful landmarks have survived in spite of years of industry and concerted efforts to pull them down. Centre of it all, at the junction of William street and Darlinghurst road, (where Kings Cross meets the posher Darlinghurst).... there is a tremendous billboard for Coca Cola standing above it all. Traditionally a huge neon eyesore, it has temporarily been replaced by a ridiculous looking cardboard thing. Perfectly capturing, the kind of cheap and unique ugliness, which is so typical of Sydney---and indeed, most of Australia.
 
I had arranged to meet Abe underneath the giant coke sign-- that drizzly morning. I spotted him from across the road, in denim jeans and a grunge-ish black band shirt, as he waved his arm and yelled 'Stenton! Stenton!'. Pretty soon, we had walked up Kings Cross famous 'strip'--and arrived at 'The Bourbon' hotel--to grab a drink. Abe seemed to be in pretty good spirits.
 
Not long after we had sat down, Abe kind of fidgeted, and looked around in an aggravated manner. 'Can we go somewhere else actually?' He said, 'I can't stand this place. It's all rizzle razzle now.' I thought for a moment, and then threw a random suggestion, 'We could go to Gerry's anchor? Its my local. It's a lot more folksy. Better music than here. But it's right over the other side of Darlinghurst.' 'Anywhere's gotta be better than here' said Abe.
 
So, we got up, and made our way, all the way back down Darlinghurst Road, past all the strip joints, cafés and kebab shops on the main drag. As we were walking, I pointed out Kings Cross library, next to the Vegas club, where I was doing research for my latest client. This was how I started talking to Abe about the report I was doing on the local area. 'Whoa!' Said Abe surprised, 'Who would have thought there was a library there! I must have walked past here a thousand times --and never seen it for all the junkies, hookers, spruikers, drunks and hobos.'
 
He seemed impressed by the whole project, asking regularly: 'So tell me more about what your working on, it sounds interesting.' Our conversation continued all the way down to Gerry's anchor, and soon enough, we had schooners of beer in our hands, and for a rare chance in the inner city, a place inside where we could drink and smoke ---at the same time.
 
I started telling Abe about the private employer who had contacted me directly, after reading a paper I wrote about the infamous 'Rum Rebellion' of New South Wales. 'Whats his name? Your employer?' He asked.
 
I explained that the guys name was Richard Canaan, and that he was apparently closely related to Neville Drury. He then gave me a look like I was stupid, finally asking; 'Who the fuck is Neville Drury??' 'Oh---he's kind of a well known Australian pseudo-historian.' I said, 'Wrote a bunch of books about the occult, and various other pseudo-scientific hokem. Back in the day. Hippy dude. Hung up by the seventies. He's dead now I think. Anyway, this guy Richard is his second cousin or something.'
 
Abe went to grab us both another beer, whilst I went downstairs to the toilets. When we got back, he still seemed oddly fascinated by my research report, asking as soon as I returned, 'So whats it going to be?--a book?'. (I got the feeling maybe we were both just happy to stall the inevitable talk about the wedding for a while.) Regardless, I was thoroughly enjoying my latest research, so I was more than happy to oblige his curiosity: 'I don't really know yet.' I said, 'The guy hasn't really explained. As far as I can see so far, he just wants me to submit various chapters of research to him, bit by bit. Maybe he just doesn't like studying and has a fetish for this stuff? I don't know. I think he's rich anyway.' 'What makes you think that?' Abe asked, 'What's he paying you? Is it good money?'
 
I leaned back happily, just thinking about the whole glorious matter. 'Well that's the best part.' I said grinning, '--a shit-ton. He's paying me, a shit-ton.'
 
There was a group of bikers at a big round table behind us, who were clinking their glasses, and laughing raucously. 'Lucky bludger.' Said Abe, raising his voice, 'So when is it due? You should speak to Miguel. You know --he still has access to the big library at Bourkeley university. He can probably get you any book you want on the subject.' 'I will definitely be asking him about that.' I said. 'Actually I'm meeting the guy this afternoon with some preliminaries to discuss it.' Pretty soon the subject of the wedding came up --Abe told me he had only spoken to Alfie once since the incident, on the phone, but 'he seemed ok'. 'You should call him,' Abe said, 'You know, I don't think he was ever seriously angry at you. By the way, did you really sleep with Rihanna that night?' 'What? NO!' I said angrily.
 
We talked a little more about Alfie and Chloe, and the trainwreck that was their wedding. Then Abe asked me if I had recovered ok from my greening out on the lawn. I told him I was fine, not mentioning the weird hallucinations of the skeletal winged ghost. We had several more beers, then eventually parted ways.
 
I had to meet Richard Canaan (My private employer) at 5:00pm, and it was now 3:55--so I had a little time to kill. I decided to get a coffee on Bayswater road, before I headed down to meet him. I passed a destitute old homeless man along the way, he had a sun bleached, wide-brim hat, and his face was brown and wrinkled like a prune. He held his hand out, but didn't bother asking for change. The look on the homeless mans face was one of terror--as if life had suddenly cut him off from the bar, and locked him in some permanent street jail--the wind changing forever on his wretched expression, slowly blowing on him-- till he would erode away into dust.
 
As I sipped my latte, at the little Greek cafe, I looked over the preliminary notes I had typed out the night before. In a rather odd request, Richard had asked me if he could see the research before I had even written my first draught. He said he wanted to be included in every stage of the research, to direct the contents according to his wishes. The place we were going to meet, was an odd address, out of the central service area, on a quiet, wealthy street called 'Roslyn Gardens' --down towards Elizabeth bay. As far as I knew, there were no cafés or restaurants down there, but he had assured me the address was that of a licensed venue. I scribbled on my typed notes, annoyed at the chaotic disorder of them, but --what was to be expected? I had only less than a day to work on the research so far. The notes I had made --could be little more than pulled quotes from various sources at present, and that really was all they were.
 
My resolve, was that I at least could eliminate things which weren't actually relevant to Richards request, before meeting him this afternoon. I had included a great deal of previous research from my study of the Rum rebellion, simply because my knowledge allowed me to tie (probably irrelevant) macro cosmic Australian events of this period, (to microcosmic events around Wooloomooloo). I began to cross out paragraphs headed by facts and dates that were superfluous and misplaced. 'Rum rebellion 1808.' (Crossed out). 'Testimony of man dining at government house, the night Bligh was deposed by 'the great perturbator'--John Macarthur, orchestrator of the rum rebellion.' (Crossed out). 'The colony at the time consisted of those who sold rum, and those who drank it.' (Crossed out). 'This began a tradition of wealthy landowners who cared nothing for the residents of the land in Australia. John MacArthur bought pyrmont for a bottle of rum. The ordinary people who worked so tirelessly to build the houses and buildings on those lands, just like the indigenous folk, would never be able to afford to own the land they toiled on themselves.' (crossed out).
 
Time passed pretty quickly as I edited the notes, and eliminated everything that wasn't really relevant to the Potts Point area. As well as all the Rum rebellion stuff, for some reason I had also included in my initial brainstorming --far too broad a history of greater Sydney. I started tearing out any information about events further West than Hyde Park or further South than Oxford Street. Among the information I began to remove, were facts such as: 'P24--'information surrounding the construction of Paramatta road and Princes highway in 1810' (Torn out) P38--'Information regarding the first stations built at Newtown, in 1855.' (torn out) 'The building of Petersham station, in 1857' (torn out), 'The building of Stanmore station, in 1878. (Torn out), 'The building of Lewisham station, in 1886.' (torn out).
 
Further to this I eliminated huge sections comprised of four or more pages, which were simply too expansive; such as 'The discovery of gold in Bathurst in 1851 --and it's effect on migration in NSW'. (Thrown in the bin). As it drew closer and closer to five o clock, I was beggining to be satisfied that my stack of papers---were now at least in a reasonable order, and organised as best as they could be --for clarity and demonstration of the content --of what could eventually be a first draft. There was a very attractive girl, sitting on the table opposite me, with a taught face, and flowing brown hair. She was beautiful, and strangely familiar. I tried me best to prevent my head from bobbing up and gawking at her cleavage, peeping out of an elegant green Denmans top, as I worked, but in the end the temptation became so much I had to leave. Unfortunately, that image of the beautiful girl with the bright green top--didn't leave my mind.
 
I began to walk the long stretch towards Roslyn gardens at about quarter-to-five, and I reached the address Richard had given me before the clock ticked over. As I had suspected, there was nothing along Roslyn Gardens which looked remotely like a cafe or a bar. There were plenty of beautiful heritage buildings and decadent mansions. The address Richard had given me was merely a large white building, built in a curious modern architectural style. It seemed to have no doors or windows, only a long stretch of walled path leading down to the front facade of the building. I stood at the entrance, waiting patiently for any sign of the mysterious Richard Canaan.
 
In the end, he turned up late--so much that I had been standing there, listening to the dull squawk of birds--for twenty minutes--when he did finally show. He was a tall, thin man, with long, dark hair--a pointy abrahamic face, dressed all-in light black casual wear. On his head, he wore a kind of sleek, black, beatnik-beret. He had a gold ended cane, which he used to hike along the tarmac. He walked down from the other end of Roslyn gardens, and crossed the road to meet me on the footpath, shaking my hand violently.
 
'You must be Stenton.' He stated formally. 'Yes. That's me.' I said. 'Fantastic. Won't you join me? It's right in here.' He spoke with the posh formality of one who's idle hours had never known economic stress. I followed him down the long twisted white path, that led down to the blank-front-wall.. of the tall, white building, then --leading me around a corner to the left of the building, he brought us to a hidden door. Mr Canaan stood with his head straight --and rapped on the door with his fist. After a minute of silence, there was a clicking latch, and a rather beautiful young blonde girl opened the door. The girl, in her mid twenties, was dressed all in white-- (a fashionable vintage sequinned cabaret number). She winked at us in a rehearsed greeting, and led us down the wooden hallway of the building. 'Welcome to the Xanadu club' --She said in a sultry tone, as she led us through a vibrant, colourful passage, pushing strings of beads out of the way with her body. 'Table for two?' She asked. Richard smiled at her and said, 'Yes my dear. That would be fantastic.'
 
We passed many glittering, locked doors, until, (after traversing a few flights of stairs) --were lead out onto an immense open space, with a balcony overlooking the foliage of trees. The beautiful call girl, indicated the tables with her hand, and Richard charged toward an elegant table in the left corner of the balcony. We were just about the only other people in there, bar a lonely looking Italian man. I noticed the large room was styled in 19th century designs, with a certain French decadence. The call-girl made her way back towards a hidden room, saying 'I'll return with some menus'. Her fluffy white dress-- hung up quite high, leaving her naked, rotund arse-cheeks protruding from the sides of her silver underwear, like white-melons, and the most elegantly smooth tanned legs, moved-- gracefully catching the light, in the style of an enchantingly erotic dream.
 
'Have you ever heard of this place?' Richard asked proudly, 'I'm quite sure you haven't. For eighty-years, this darling place has been the secret treasure of Sydney. Many famous people have rubbed shoulders here, but never one member of the press has been invited. No snoops, no cops and no reporters. That's the unofficial policy of 'the Xanadu Club'. Would you like a drink? The cocktails here are simply to die for. It's on me.'
 
'Sure.' I said, going along for the ride, 'What would you recommend?'
 
I noticed a giant mural stretching across the right-hand wall of the club. It was bright and elegant looking, with lots of blacks and reds--a kind of festive debaucherous scene --of revelling party goers. There was also another mural on the back wall, of an even darker subject matter, painted all in blacks and browns, it depicted a group of grotesque creatures in a night time beach scene. Richard had not really responded about the cocktails, so I broached the silence with another question. 'Who painted those two murals?' I asked purposefully.
 
Mr Canaan's eyes widened, his thick black eyebrows lifting up like devils wings. 'Aahh!' He replied passionately, 'Those are very interesting indeed! I presume your art history, is not quite as up to scratch as your cultural history! ....well now....That one on the side there--is merely a reproduction--of the wonderful French painter Toulouse Lautrec! But that one at the back! Now that is far more interesting!'
 
Mr Canaan leaned into me --until he was almost breathing in my face; 'That painting is a one-off, original artwork by a local talent. Can you believe that such a fantastic piece of art, has never been looked upon by a curator, or any official from the art world of Sydney, or indeed the world.' 'Whats it called?' I asked, 'Who is the artist?'. 'That piece of art ..' Said Richard, '..was painted by Rosaleen Norton, 'the witch of kings cross'--right here in 1953! According to the staff--She named the piece herself, she called it : 'the dark shore'!'
 
I became completely enchanted by the strange mural, something about the night time beach scene, which was so Australian, and the ghostly white gum trees---and those terrible leering faces---those grotesque horrible yellow eyes-- were intensely haunting--and yet utterly enchanting. 'Its beautiful!' I said. I then pulled the research notes out from my bag and presented them to Mr Canaan. 'I presume you'll want to look at these.' I said, 'They're extremely primitive at this stage I am afraid!'
 
As Richard took the ream of paper--the striking blonde had wandered back out to us --with the menus. She had been closely followed from the back room ---by another flamboyantly dressed lady, with far too much make up, who was now standing on an elevated platform at the back of the hall. She was also dressed in white feather and fur--but her outfit was so outrageous--she almost looked like she was wearing a cockatoo costume. Instantaneously, the silence of the building was shattered by a blaring cabaret tune over speakers, and the bird-like woman, began to dance and thrust her hips around in time with the music.
 
'This is KIKI BAKIR!' Said Richard, looking up from my notes in excitement, 'She's a very talented local drag queen. You simply must have heard of her???' 'No' I said, honestly 'I--I'm afraid I haven't'. Mr Canaan seemed slightly disappointed, and returned to silently reading my notes. The fat Italian man inside, meanwhile, was laughing and clapping his hands, as the bird-like drag Queen paraded about and made rude gestures with her hands and genitals.
 
Richard had become quite distracted by my notes, making only ambiguous grunting sounds under his breath. To busy myself--whilst I awaited his reaction--I began to flick through the cocktail menu. The menu had an elegant mahogany cover, with gold leaf typography. 'XANADU BEAK WETTERS'. There were over ten pages of cocktails, the prices weren't marked--but--as Mr Canaan had offered to pay for them anyway--money wasn't really an object. My eye was caught by a cinnamon twist on a basic Manhattan --which had been called 'Old Spice.'
 
Suddenly, Richard put his head up with a raised eyebrow, 'Nothing about the early sea voyages of the Dutch or the Portuguese?' He asked menacingly. 'No.' I said, 'I didn't think it was relevant.' He seemed disappointed once more --and buried his head in the manuscript again.
 
Shortly, the cute blonde waitress came back over to the table, and asked us if we would like any drinks. I waited for Richard to respond, who still kept his head buried for a considerably rude amount of time, (before suddenly looking up at me--annoyed)-- 'Answer her question boy!' He snapped. I mumbled nervously to escape his fiery gaze, 'I'll have the 'Old Spice' thank you.' 'And I'll have a Big Red.' Said Richard coldly, returning to his study.
 
The blonde left, as Kiki the drag Queen continued to gyrate and croon. The strange melodic carnival music sang out like a broken church organ. Left with nothing to do again, I continued casually flipping through the menu, trying to find the ingredients of the cocktail which Mr Canaan had ordered. Big Red. There it was. Kind of a whiskey sour with Raspberry liqueur in it. Sounded quite nice actually.
 
Richards eyes darted upwards again, like a sniper setting his sights. 'The description of the land before colonial settlement is good, but there's not much of it. I like this ---your quote about the coast with the endless forest and the swamps to the South. Is there anyway we could make it more personal? I want richness you understand? I want depth.'
 
(I began regretting editing so much out of the piece. It seemed that less wasn't more-- in this case). 'Yes. I understand.' I said, 'I'm afraid I wasn't quite sure what you were looking for, but now you've made it perfectly clear.' The dashing blonde porn star --returned with our drinks, they were served in quite beautiful antique glasses --slightly tinted an auburn colour. I took a sip, and though the drink was tart, I appreciated the diverse palette. 'Its delicious.' I said, but Richard did not take his eyes from my work.
 
After another minute he began to comment on larger areas of text. 'Now this part where you describe the destruction of a kind of swampy, coastal paradise' he said, '... I like this.' Then he began to read my research out loud: 'The woodcutters, turf cutters, quarries, and grazing livestock had caused 'serious injury' to the landscape.' He read in a mocking voice. 'Hmm.' He muttered, pausing mid sentence, 'This fact about young Frederick Pawley, who died in 1867 of suffocation...'''when he was buried by an avalanche of sand, playing on a sandhill.''' That's a great fact!' Richard went on, 'But it's simply not detailed enough--When we are talking about devastation ---I want to see devastation! Show me the suffering of our tragic colonial history!'
 
I smiled and nodded at him, trying to re-evaluate what this wealthy eccentric was really all about. He read the words so seriously, like a cat watching a mouse--I wondered how he could possible have so much invested in it all. Richard began flicking more speedily through the manuscript pages now, seeming to approve of the more generic parts of history. Then he suddenly stopped and re-examined a certain paragraph, slamming his finger into it, his eyes growing cold and narrow again. 'Its all quite good up until the 20th century.' He said sharply, 'Frankly, there's far too much about the war.' He began reading aloud again, '''Men were falling over themselves to enlist' because war meant 'cigarettes, and cards and new mates, instead of the same old round, the same dirty terrace, the same job year after year. It meant a free sea trip, a glorious if restricted holiday, the only drawback being the drill sargeants and the unnecessary early hours.''' 'Now I ask you', he interrupted himself, 'What does this have to do with the local area of Wooloomoloo and Kings Cross??'
 
I ground my teeth and looked at him unknowingly. 'Look.' He said tearing a whole ream of the paper I had given him into shreds, (my eyes opening in stunned shock). 'We'll start from scratch. This will give you the ground work to learn the way I want you to learn. The way I would like to do this --is for you to research smaller areas as I designate them. Once all the research is done, you can compile it all into one coherent meaning. You can pull it all together into one grand story.' I told him I was absolutely fine with this. Then he insisted we order some more drinks, (before explaining my first research topic for the next week). The latest drinks, added with the drinks with Abe earlier, I was starting to get intoxicated again. When Mr Canaan handed me a white envelope with two thousand dollars cash in it, I became even more intoxicated. 'For all your work so far.' He said, 'There is plenty more where that came from. Now, if you would be so kind, we will meet here again in precisely one weeks time--at which point I will be satisfied only when you can tell me --all about the 'Kings Cross theatre! around 1827. I would like to know the entire repertoire of plays for that year, then I will be quite confident that we are on the same page.' He stood up after finishing his drink, 'Now --I will be taking my business upstairs. However, in the interim, I would like you to stay in the company of these wonderful girls, and help yourself to as many drinks as you like--on my tab.'
 
And so, the strange Mr Canaan, took his leave of me and wandered out --into the corridor of endless doors. My instant reaction had been to leave this strange place immediately, but it was hard to resist the charm of the blonde girl--when she returned asking what I would like to drink 'on the house'. I quickly caved in --and got myself a 'big red'. Then the hours passed, and the strange spell of the symphonic circus cabaret music, the perfume of the beautiful angelic waitress, and the enchanting power of the mural of 'the dark shore' all conspired to work me into a fine drunken trance.
 
I'm quite sure I was utterly tanked, by the time I left the curious sights, smells and sounds of the 'Xanadu club'. I know at least that I patted down my pockets, making sure I had that generous wad of cash Richard had given me. I lit up a cigarette and began to walk up the long stretch leading back to the Darlinghurst strip. I felt as frisky as a dog as I stumbled down Bayswater Road. It was no surprise --really then --that the beckoning girls outside the Badabing club --caught my aroused and drunken eye. Feeling the wad of cash under my arm, a guilty pleasure which normally felt off limits-- now seemed well within my grasp.
 
(Badabing was one of the classier strip joints on the main drag of the cross). There's probably numerous reasons for this, the most obvious being that the other ones were so notoriously bad. The type of girls who hung around 'dreamgirls' and some of the seedier joints, looked like 70 year old emu's who'd been out in the sun too long. A cabbie once told me a joke about 'dream girls'--that he'd driven a respectable looking foreigner who wanted to see a strip show up past 'dream girls'--but the guy had taken one look at the hideous old crones--and said 'Driver. Put your goddamn foot down.'
 
A lot of the girls at Badabing were just topless waiters. Pretty college girls who needed some extra cash, but weren't willing to completely give themselves away to the night. Really classy dames. Sometimes the beautiful, but prudish girls --would loosen up after a few drinks --and go all out for the patrons. Anything could happen at Badabing --and it often did.
 
It's a monstrous haze, the rest of that night--in my shattered memory. I know the club was basically empty, and to my amazement, some sort of bizarre serendipity or coincidence---I ended up having a private show with the stunning brunette girl I had seen at the cafe earlier. The one with the green top. I had thought she looked eerily familiar, and now I remembered why. We'd come to Badabing for Alfie's bucks night a month ago--(I had organised the whole thing). Earlier at the cafe, I hadn't placed the face of that brunette, but now I recalled-- by some ridiculous deus ex-machina--she was the same stripper we'd watched perform on Alfie's bucks night. I was drinking loads of rum and cokes that evening after the Zanadu club--as I drueled over the brunette Venus, as she danced, like a siren in front of me. Perhaps foolishly--I broke the fourth wall. I think it was because seeing her in the cafe --had made me consciously realise, the usually forgotten fact, that she was a real person. I remember being turned on beyond control, yet somehow making normal conversation with her. I recall distinctly-- asking her name. Rita. I remember her telling me she was studying business at uni, and how she liked sailing. I remember her taking off her underwear, as I handed her piles of banknotes. Then her bare curves, squatting naked, like a cruelly unresistable curvaceous frog--in front of me--she leaned in to whisper in my ear--'You want to go out to the back room?'
 
I remember a terrible nightmare, about the winged, skeletal phantom--sucking the life out of my soul.
 
But that's all I remember.
 
I woke up with a swollen eye, and jaw, lying in the park outside my house. My fist was swollen up like a giant apple. I guessed I had gotten in some shit with the bouncers at Bada Bing. They were usually pretty violent with anyone who got remotely close or comfortable with the girls. My memory was shot. My hangover was worse than the day of the wedding--and I still felt feverish --from the most terrible nightmares--of abstract black shapes--dissecting lines--and fractal patterns, and that artwork. 'The Black Coast.' Whatever substance nightmare was made of, I could feel it --brimming over the edges of sleep --and filling up the vessel of my waking life, more and more, every day.
 
Things got progressively darker over those next few months--as I reported to Richard every week--with my latest research. Enchanted by the seductive atmosphere of the 'Xanadu club' --and spending more and more time alternatively at the library--and the Badabing club--pissing away Mr Canaan's money--and gazing for hours on end at Rita's perfect body, and studying her, learning about who she was, this 'angel of the Badabing club'.
 
But it was my own fascination--my own research which drew me deeper and deeper into the spiders nest. My fascination over that strange artwork on the wall of the Xanadu dining-hall. The strange dark beach in the mural. I had to find out more ---about the artist.
 
In spite of my horrifying growing sense of primal terror, I had to learn more about Rosaleen Norton.
 
UP NEXT: Chapter Three - 'The Witch of Kings Cross' https://www.reddit.com/libraryofshadows/comments/4gcd0y/the_witch_of_kings_cross/
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2013.09.19 17:11 pgood1 Things are just "better" now since nofap. Clear. Zen.

Approaching the 3 week mark. Doesn't seem like that long on paper but for all you fellow ex-fappers - this is a long time! Longest I have ever gone in my life.
I have noticed only good thing from this so far and I haven't even realized the full potential. Today I had an important interview, for example. I was a little nervous at first but kept telling myself "I got this". I don't think I ever had such command and confidence during an interview in my life. I was in the zone. And it was a 4 person panel interview- yikes!
I am starting to do better with the lady folk as well. It just seems like they are easier to talk to/ are more interested in me.
These aren't superpowers folks, they are attributes that come out from hiding! You put up an invisible shield when you fap for hours to internet porn. Testosterone is definitely risen. And you feel like you have accomplished something which leads to confidence spikes.
Finally, I started this voyage because of "desensitivity" It would take a lot to stimulate me and porn was "better" than real sex. A pair of boobs on the internet or real life was like nothing to me- not good. Also, the chronic masturbation / death grip, led to decreased sensitivity down there. SO many issues- all in the process of being cured. I can already tell that things are rebooting down there and have a 90 day commitment.
Cheers. Keep at it.
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2013.03.23 03:50 Myndyz Lady voyager porn

and I feel incredible! I want to thank you all for your information and guidance. I want to share the positive impact [NoFap] has had on my present, as succinctly as I can (there is a lot; but weigh each syllable equally). Keep on keeping on. Do not give up!
How I got here: I was dissatisfied with my erectile dysfunction that struck the majority of the blue-moon occasions which I have attempted to have sex in recent years. This past November, in one of our three-hour chats, my friend S briefly mentioned something about watching pornography, an activity I had taken part in for more than eight years, and the rewiring of your brain. "90 days without that garbage will redo your brain," he quipped. I was curious. I weeded out porn and masturbation from my life to test myself; the compulsion dwindled to weekly use. I felt the same with and without it, then. I still loved watching porn; I convinced myself to keep at the routine. It provided me with something. A month later, I attempted to have sex for the first time since being aware of what S had told me; unsurprisingly, per usual, I could not get aroused at all. I spent the remainder of that night puzzled: why did my mind want to deprive my body of pleasure? I curiously scoured the internet. A wealth of information appeared in the browser. I absorbed the topical knowledge, but a result for YourBrainOnPorn was the most comprehensive regarding porn-induced erectile dysfunction. I never heard of this phenomenon. I watched "The Great Porn Experiment", and was instantly changed. Gary Wilson (whose name intrigued me to due to his sharing it with a funky musician's) spoke consistent truth: I found myself in each sentence. The science yielded convictive tears. I reflected on…
My life with porn: I am a college sophomore. Ever since Spring Break 2004 when I was a fifth-grader and my parents nastily divorced, pornography was an important part of my life. I was immediately obsessed. High-speed internet, "today's internet porn" that Gary Wilson describes in his lecture's conclusion, had taken off not too long ago; tabs, tabs, tabs clouded my browser. The internet grew; my tastes changed. The activity manifested itself in the most inappropriate settings: My sister's room? My buddy's closet? My best friend's aunt's living room? My grandparents' house? There was an attached rush since I have never been caught handed. Thus, no one knew about what I did when I was not around, which added value to the vice's allure. My thrilling search for products of the highest quality bloomed amidst the internet-porn industry's bubbling—more appropriately, its erection. In discussions with my best friends, they all openly discussed their preference for available amateur porn. On the contrary I enjoyed the content offered by premium sites Bangbros, Brazzers—to whatever I could find account information. Gathering functioning passes to these quality sweets made my month; their eminent disappearance ruined it. The unreal image of large asses and huge penises was my primary representation of sex. I was not sexually active with the outside. I would not succeed with women I lackadaisically pursued; I had not had a girlfriend, my first and only, since 2009. I allowed my umbilical porn tie to dominate me. More recently, the conversations with my senior buddy S provided me with the bread crumbs of transformation. Through our talks, I identified with S: his past introversion, his exposure to pick-up artistry, his ability to laugh, his addiction to porn, and his desire to better his self. I admired him, and myself thus, for these traits. I heavily weighted S’s aforementioned fact: how my usage could figure into this. I toyed with the idea to gauge my response; however, increasing stress from studies was an excuse for keeping at the routine. After finishing a paper that took an entire weekend to write, I watched porn for the last time in an attempt to wind down. Winter break was eminent; I could freely decompress. Here, an unrealized sexual encounter occurred. I remembered S's words; I did the research. Ultimately, for my self-improvement, I made the boldest decision I could. I found my way onto NoFap and claimed my badge. December 19, 2012: after eight-and-a-half years, I embarked on…
My life without porn: (To preface, my life has been changing in spurts since December 2011 when I came to the realization that I need other people. In my youth, I felt that anything could be accomplished through myself without assistance. This perpetuated a loneliness mistaken for solitude, other negative qualities; ultimately, my addiction to porn/fap. In May 2012 I was rejected by the girl I crushed on after making my infatuation explicit; I was terrified of rejection for my entire life. This was the first time I did something like this. I felt great afterward, regardless: being rejected was much more satisfying than remaining uncertain! Two months later, I was able to love myself when I looked in the mirror. I finally erected the self-confidence I needed to persevere. (These two events influenced this.) My relationship with my parents improved, especially my father. Despite a loving relationship, I never voiced my desires and dissatisfactions toward him—or anyone in my life! I finally spoke to him as an adult—honest—and our relationship has been great since. The next semester, interactions became much more lucid. I still fap’d and poured so much energy into pornographic thrills. Unmet potential—in myself, others—perturbs me ineffably. Again, my buddy S briefed me on the benefits of a life without fap. This is, along with Gary Wilson's lecture, the impetus for my biggest milestone.) My decision thrilled me. I informed those closest to me of my plans; various friends of excess scoffed, putting fap/porn on its absurd pedestal. Some applauded my will. My parents supported me. I spread the gospel to my friends whom I knew delved in porn. Just because they made it clear they watched porn does not mean they watched it with the (ir)regularity I did. I assumed that everyone else fapping partook in the volume of porn I had! I wore the spirit of NoFap on my sleeve. It was most efficient for me to do so. The effects of NoFap are true; zeniths in self-confidence, drive, passion, clearheadedness, among other intangibles are optimally reached. These are self-fulfilling; they need to be. I never experienced the magnitude of these qualities until now. From an early age, I allowed porn to sculpt me into a bookish recluse who socially failed. Any shortcoming in my life could be generated into a fap excuse; this ultimately squandered my impulse to do anything—fap was my release. Now, I decided against release, in my traditional sense. The energy—oh, the energy!—I applied toward my excursions was now used elsewhere. A list of what I have accomplished over this 90-day period:

  • Travelled to Kyrgyzstan. (It looks a little something like this.) I recorded over an hour's worth of golden material. I am compiling it into a short film at snail's pace due to other priorities. It is beautiful. This trip revitalized my desire to travel, especially with a camcorder in hand. The sense of being an other wherever is exhilarating. I got accepted to Taglit-Birthright Israel in May—a free ticket to/from Israel!—and will travel to other neighboring countries. I am ecstatic.
  • Totaled my car. I tapped an ambulance's back wheel.
  • NoPoo. No more dandruff.
  • Had one of my first wet dreams. I estimate having three before NoFap. I had a total of three during this period; most recent, this week. Disappointedly, I am certain that one was influenced by the remnants of pornographic images in my unconscious. (Does this violate pornfree? Seriously!) I woke up with morning wood a few times. It never happened much before, so let it be noteworthy.
  • Stopped smoking. I began smoking in August 2010; a carton would last me three weeks. I lost interest during last October, but have cut off completely since. Once you kick one addiction, it is simple to kick the rest! Now, I am addicted to not being addicted to things.
  • Listened to 231 albums. For me, this is a gigantic figure and might be the biggest reward of my NoFap. I have so much music on my iPod from eight years of collecting music: currently, 13,108 songs / 1,364 albums have lived to see today. I listened to a fraction of that collection throughout the near-decade; there are albums on myPod that have been there for these years and are gone untouched. I enjoy having a response to the music: +/-. The immense jazz and electronic/ambient selections I have were incredibly suitable for the workload of my curriculum. The wavering qualities of the music amplified my challenging literature. I recommend: Steve Reich's Music for 18 Musicians; Charles Mingus's The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady; a lot of Fela Kuti; Michael Jackson's Thriller; Pat Metheny Group's [The Falcon and the Snowman] and Still Life (Talking). I have to make time for more hip-hop!
  • Recorded this.
  • Dropped my phone in the sink. I upgraded to a smartphone, but I keep it in my pocket as much as possible. Sitting on the phone, albeit socially acceptable, is analogous to fapping. It is keeping you from noticing the world around you!
  • Read seven books. I used to be a voracious reader, and then fapping overtook. I recommend two from these 90 days. The Autobiography of Malcolm X is one of the most gripping tales bounded; at the book's finish, I could not help but sympathize with Malcolm. His later outlooks have been influential, allowing me to empathize with more people. No More Mr. Nice Guy! by Robert A. Glover is a great read for a lot of us at NoFap because we possess a lot of the characteristics he divulges—the characteristics which lead us to heavy fappage in the first place. Sigmund Freud's Beyond the Pleasure Principle was a peculiar read. I am currently reading a William Blake compilation and beginning The Tao of Badass today.
  • Kissed two girls I knew from when I was in high school; I never made any advances toward them then but had always wanted to. Though they did not reciprocated, I felt comfortable in putting myself out like that which my high-school self was completely against. (Before, I had kissed eight girls, showered with four.) I also got two phone numbers today! I feel more comfortable around women. Whenever I have approach anxiety, I find a way to constructively get rid of it by going ahead: approaching. I am less anxious for the next time. I am becoming more understanding. Occasional dips into the lairs of seduction + askseddit + etc. have been beneficial. Also, it is not that women began noticing me. I began noticing them noticing me. It is (and it turns out that I am) a sight for sore eyes! Smile more in the streets.
  • Watched 35 movies. The figure is relatively low considering I am an English major with a film concentration; however, I am content with this due to my aforementioned intake of books and music. Federico Fellini's Amarcord, Chris Marker's Sans soleil, Luis Buñuel's That Obscure Object of Desire, and The Marx Brothers' Duck Soup were my favorites of this period.
  • Cemented my musical group and played my first show. I have found someone in my (college) town—we are from the same city in South Florida, coincidentally—with whom I can bounce ideas. It is a great feeling for me because I have never seriously collaborated with someone, musically, outside of improvisations. Conceiving lush music, with another, is beyond rewarding for me. Currently writing, he and I will record material in the summer. It will be glorious.
  • Drank no milkshakes. I used to pound three to four weekly. I crave sugary things more often than before. I often ignore these drives, and continue going about my activities.
  • Cleared my history once. Let this speak for itself….
  • Started yoga. A friend teaches at my gym. It is a beautiful way to start a Saturday. I feel great after! I also resumed my daily push-up routine with good results.
  • Developed more fruitful relationships with men. After the age 10, I was raised in a household with a constant woman figure, with no men—sans young, little me. My mother taught me how to be a man; not my father. In the end, there was something missing from my equation. Much how Glover describes in No Mr. Nice Guy!, women cannot show men how to be men—men must do that. The man who portrays himself as the man that a woman wants him to be ends up setting himself up for disappointments. (This clearly influenced my minimal sexual past and my behaviors toward women: my empathy for them was staunch due to the victimization my mother portrayed during her messy divorce and depression. It is complicated, but not that much….) I have definitely benefitted from my new bonds and the camaraderie of those theretofore have been revitalized, too; including that with my father. I feel awesome about this. It has allowed me to view myself and women much more healthily.
    There are plenty of things I have not listed. Everything provided in this massive body of text ought to leave you with the impression that NoFap has made a positive difference that I could not have predicted when I first claimed my badge. I have not tested to see if my ED is no more, but that is an afterthought right now. Most importantly, I hope I convinced those on the fence—those coming from the same dark and parasitic pornographic hole I have—about whether to commit themselves to a life of fapping or of no-fapping…. Realize that only your self and your mind will push you toward this curious voyage. Your body will not. My body pleads for a menthol Pall Mall, a smooth vanilla/banana milkshake, an invasive erection, and hi-res tube porn—all at once! My mind knows that these things get in the way of my ultimate happiness. Do not yield to temptation; do not be primitive. Rise. I am beyond thankful for NoFap. I am so proud to see humans coming together on reddit and the internet for improving the self and others. It is the strength and mission of you all that has reinforced my steadfast dedication to the constant bettering of my self. I am looking forward to what the next 90 days brings, and the next 90 days, etc. I know with utmost certainty that I will never reset my badge. This feeling, this smile, this life.... This beats fapping!
submitted by Myndyz to pornfree [link] [comments]


2013.03.22 15:18 Myndyz Lady voyager porn

and I feel incredible! I want to thank you all for your information and guidance. I want to share the positive impact [NoFap] has had on my present, as succinctly as I can (there is a lot; but weigh each syllable equally). Keep on keeping on. Do not give up!
How I got here: I was dissatisfied with my erectile dysfunction that struck the majority of the blue-moon occasions which I have attempted to have sex in recent years. This past November, in one of our three-hour chats, my friend S briefly mentioned something about watching pornography, an activity I had taken part in for more than eight years, and the rewiring of your brain. "3 months without that garbage will redo your brain," he quipped. I was curious. I weeded out porn and masturbation from my life to test myself; the compulsion dwindled to weekly use. I felt the same with and without it, then. I still loved watching porn; I convinced myself to keep at the routine. It provided me with something. A month later, I attempted to have sex for the first time since being aware of what S had told me; unsurprisingly, per usual, I could not get aroused at all. I spent the remainder of that night puzzled: why did my mind want to deprive my body of pleasure? I curiously scoured the internet. A wealth of information appeared in the browser. I absorbed the topical knowledge, but a result for YourBrainOnPorn was the most comprehensive regarding porn-induced erectile dysfunction. I never heard of this phenomenon. I watched "The Great Porn Experiment", and was instantly changed. Gary Wilson (whose name intrigued me to due to his sharing it with a funky musician's) spoke consistent truth: I found myself in each sentence. The science yielded convictive tears. I reflected on…
My life with porn: I am a college sophomore. Ever since Spring Break 2004 when I was a fifth-grader and my parents nastily divorced, pornography was an important part of my life. I was immediately obsessed. High-speed internet, "today's internet porn" that Gary Wilson describes in his lecture's conclusion, had taken off not too long ago; tabs, tabs, tabs clouded my browser. The internet grew; my tastes changed. The activity manifested itself in the most inappropriate settings: My sister's room? My buddy's closet? My best friend's aunt's living room? My grandparents' house? There was an attached rush since I have never been caught handed. Thus, no one knew about what I did when I was not around, which added value to the vice's allure. My thrilling search for products of the highest quality bloomed amidst the internet-porn industry's bubbling—more appropriately, its erection. In discussions with my best friends, they all openly discussed their preference for available amateur porn. On the contrary I enjoyed the content offered by premium sites Bangbros, Brazzers—to whatever I could find account information. Gathering functioning passes to these quality sweets made my month; their eminent disappearance ruined it. The unreal image of large asses and huge penises was my primary representation of sex. I was not sexually active with the outside. I would not succeed with women I lackadaisically pursued; I had not had a girlfriend, my first and only, since 2009. I allowed my umbilical porn tie to dominate me. More recently, the conversations with my senior buddy S provided me with the bread crumbs of transformation. Through our talks, I identified with S: his past introversion, his exposure to pick-up artistry, his ability to laugh, his addiction to porn, and his desire to better his self. I admired him, and myself thus, for these traits. I heavily weighted S’s aforementioned fact: how my usage could figure into this. I toyed with the idea to gauge my response; however, increasing stress from studies was an excuse for keeping at the routine. After finishing a paper that took an entire weekend to write, I watched porn for the last time in an attempt to wind down. Winter break was eminent; I could freely decompress. Here, an unrealized sexual encounter occurred. I remembered S's words; I did the research. Ultimately, for my self-improvement, I made the boldest decision I could. I found my way onto NoFap and claimed my badge. December 19, 2012: after eight-and-a-half years, I embarked on…
My life without porn: (To preface, my life has been changing in spurts since December 2011 when I came to the realization that I need other people. In my youth, I felt that anything could be accomplished through myself without assistance. This perpetuated a loneliness mistaken for solitude, other negative qualities; ultimately, my addiction to porn/fap. In May 2012 I was rejected by the girl I crushed on after making my infatuation explicit; I was terrified of rejection for my entire life. This was the first time I did something like this. I felt great afterward, regardless: being rejected was much more satisfying than remaining uncertain! Two months later, I was able to love myself when I looked in the mirror. I finally erected the self-confidence I needed to persevere. (These two events influenced this.) My relationship with my parents improved, especially my father. Despite a loving relationship, I never voiced my desires and dissatisfactions toward him—or anyone in my life! I finally spoke to him as an adult—honest—and our relationship has been great since. The next semester, interactions became much more lucid. I still fap’d and poured so much energy into pornographic thrills. Unmet potential—in myself, others—perturbs me ineffably. Again, my buddy S briefed me on the benefits of a life without fap. This is, along with Gary Wilson's lecture, the impetus for my biggest milestone.) My decision thrilled me. I informed those closest to me of my plans; various friends of excess scoffed, putting fap/porn on its absurd pedestal. Some applauded my will. My parents supported me. I spread the gospel to my friends whom I knew delved in porn. Just because they made it clear they watched porn does not mean they watched it with the (ir)regularity I did. I assumed that everyone else fapping partook in the volume of porn I had! I wore the spirit of NoFap on my sleeve. It was most efficient for me to do so. The effects of NoFap are true; zeniths in self-confidence, drive, passion, clearheadedness, among other intangibles are optimally reached. These are self-fulfilling; they need to be. I never experienced the magnitude of these qualities until now. From an early age, I allowed porn to sculpt me into a bookish recluse who socially failed. Any shortcoming in my life could be generated into a fap excuse; this ultimately squandered my impulse to do anything—fap was my release. Now, I decided against release, in my traditional sense. The energy—oh, the energy!—I applied toward my excursions was now used elsewhere. A list of what I have accomplished over this 90-day period:

  • Travelled to Kyrgyzstan. (It looks a little something like this.) I recorded over an hour's worth of golden material. I am compiling it into a short film at snail's pace due to other priorities. It is beautiful. This trip revitalized my desire to travel, especially with a camcorder in hand. The sense of being an other wherever is exhilarating. I got accepted to Taglit-Birthright Israel in May—a free ticket to/from Israel!—and will travel to other neighboring countries. I am ecstatic.
  • Totaled my car. I tapped an ambulance's back wheel.
  • NoPoo. No more dandruff.
  • Had one of my first wet dreams. I estimate having three before NoFap. I had a total of three during this period; most recent, this week. Disappointedly, I am certain that one was influenced by the remnants of pornographic images in my unconscious. (Does this violate pornfree? Seriously!) I woke up with morning wood a few times. It never happened much before, so let it be noteworthy.
  • Stopped smoking. I began smoking in August 2010; a carton would last me three weeks. I lost interest during last October, but have cut off completely since. Once you kick one addiction, it is simple to kick the rest! Now, I am addicted to not being addicted to things.
  • Listened to 231 albums. For me, this is a gigantic figure and might be the biggest reward of my NoFap. I have so much music on my iPod from eight years of collecting music: currently, 13,000+ songs, 1,300+ albums. I listened to a fraction of that collection throughout the near-decade; there are albums on myPod that have been there for these years and are gone untouched. I enjoy having a response to the music: +/-. The immense jazz and electronic/ambient selections I have were incredibly suitable for the workload of my curriculum. The wavering qualities of the music amplified my challenging literature. I recommend: Steve Reich's Music for 18 Musicians; Charles Mingus's The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady; a lot of Fela Kuti; Michael Jackson's Thriller; Pat Metheny Group's Letter from Home and Still Life (Talking). I have to make time for more hip-hop!
  • Recorded this.
  • Dropped my phone in the sink. I upgraded to a smartphone, but I keep it in my pocket as much as possible. Sitting on the phone, albeit socially acceptable, is analogous to fapping. It is keeping you from noticing the world around you!
  • Read seven books. I used to be a voracious reader, and then fapping overtook. I recommend two from these 90 days. The Autobiography of Malcolm X is one of the most gripping tales bounded; at the book's finish, I could not help but sympathize with Malcolm. His later outlooks have been influential, allowing me to empathize with more people. No More Mr. Nice Guy! by Robert A. Glover is a great read for a lot of us at NoFap because we possess a lot of the characteristics he divulges—the characteristics which lead us to heavy fappage in the first place. Sigmund Freud's Beyond the Pleasure Principle was a peculiar read. I am currently reading a William Blake compilation and beginning The Tao of Badass today.
  • Kissed two girls I knew from when I was in high school; I never made any advances toward them then but had always wanted to. Though they did not reciprocated, I felt comfortable in putting myself out like that which my high-school self was completely against. (Before, I had kissed eight girls, showered with four.) I also got two phone numbers today! I feel more comfortable around women. Whenever I have approach anxiety, I find a way to constructively get rid of it by going ahead: approaching. I am less anxious for the next time. I am becoming more understanding. Occasional dips into the lairs of seduction + askseddit, etc. have been beneficial. Also, it is not that women began noticing me. I began noticing them noticing me. It is (and it turns out that I am) a sight for sore eyes! Smile more in the streets.
  • Watched 35 movies. The figure is relatively low considering I am an English major with a film concentration; however, I am content with this due to my aforementioned intake of books and music. Federico Fellini's Amarcord, Chris Marker's Sans soleil, Luis Buñuel's That Obscure Object of Desire, and The Marx Brothers' Duck Soup were my favorites of this period.
  • Cemented my musical group and played my first show. I have found someone in my (college) town—we are from the same city in South Florida, coincidentally—with whom I can bounce ideas. It is a great feeling for me because I have never seriously collaborated with someone, musically, outside of improvisations. Conceiving lush music, with another, is beyond rewarding for me. Currently writing, he and I will record material in the summer. It will be glorious.
  • Drank no milkshakes. I used to pound three to four weekly. I crave sugary things more often than before. I often ignore these drives, and continue going about my activities.
  • Cleared my history once. Let this speak for itself….
  • Started yoga. A friend teaches at my gym. It is a beautiful way to start a Saturday. I feel great after! I also resumed my daily push-up routine with good results.
  • Developed more fruitful relationships with men. After the age 10, I was raised in a household with a constant woman figure, with no men—sans young, little me. My mother taught me how to be a man; not my father. In the end, there was something missing from my equation. Much how Glover describes in No Mr. Nice Guy!, women cannot show men how to be men—men must do that. The man who portrays himself as the man that a woman wants him to be ends up setting himself up for disappointments. (This clearly influenced my minimal sexual past and my behaviors toward women: my empathy for them was staunch due to the victimization my mother portrayed during her messy divorce and depression. It is complicated, but not that much….) I have definitely benefitted from my new bonds and the camaraderie of those theretofore have been revitalized, too; including that with my father. I feel awesome about this. It has allowed me to view myself and women much more healthily.
    There are plenty of things I have not listed. Everything provided in this massive body of text ought to leave you with the impression that NoFap has made a positive difference that I could not have predicted when I first claimed my badge. I have not tested to see if my ED is no more, but that is an afterthought right now. Most importantly, I hope I convinced those on the fence—those coming from the same dark and parasitic pornographic hole I have—about whether to commit themselves to a life of fapping or of no-fapping…. Realize that only your self and your mind will push you toward this curious voyage. Your body will not. My body pleads for a menthol Pall Mall, a smooth vanilla/banana milkshake, an invasive erection, and hi-res tube porn—all at once! My mind knows that these things get in the way of my ultimate happiness. Do not yield to temptation; do not be primitive. Rise. I am beyond thankful for NoFap. I am so proud to see humans coming together on reddit and the internet for improving the self and others. It is the strength and mission of you all that has reinforced my steadfast dedication to the constant bettering of my self. I am looking forward to what the next 90 days brings, and the next 90 days, etc. I know with utmost certainty that I will never reset my badge. This feeling, this smile, this life.... This beats fapping!
submitted by Myndyz to NoFap [link] [comments]