Ge dishwasher making loud buzzing noise
Possible stupid question about SSD vs internal
2023.04.02 15:06 Atelier42 Possible stupid question about SSD vs internal
OK bear with me if this is a stupid question. I have win 10 on an external ssd but it makes the deck very hot and fan loud. If I put win 10 on internal storage would it perform better with less noise?
submitted by Atelier42 to WindowsOnDeck [link] [comments]
2023.04.02 15:04 Wise-Significance-47 [RF] The Deer and the Bear Trap
“I wish I could get past it, but I can’t.”
“If I’d known you were going to feel this way, I wouldn’t have let you go through with it.”
“YOU said we couldn’t handle it, YOU said it wasn’t fair on any of us.”
“I thought it was the right thing. If the same had happened and there hadn’t been complications, then…”
She hung up the phone. He was glad, he couldn’t stand to listen anymore. It wasn’t that he didn’t miss her, he couldn’t deal with the fact it was a pain that he caused that had ended it.
He poured a second coffee, lit a cigarette, and sat staring out of the window. He felt like crying. He felt this way most mornings but never did. It was as if the emotion clung inside but didn’t want to leave. If he could sob hard for an hour or so he’d feel better, but he couldn’t. So he sat and stared out of the window, across to the woods.
Clare was a hippy. Her family were too, and so were her friends. She only ever shopped at charity shops and not a single one of her immediate family ate meat or cheese. Clare was a hippy, but he still loved her. Or perhaps he loved her because of that. She loved nature and animals more than anyone he’d ever met. He couldn’t care half as much as that about his own well-being, let alone an animal. But when he saw her reaction, even if an old man merely walked past her with a dog, it made him wish he could care that much.
They used to walk to the woods, near to where he lived, most weekends. He didn’t have the money to take her anywhere special, but she didn’t seem to mind. He’d been unable to hold down a job for more than a few weeks. Not due to a lack of skill, but an inability to cope with the severe panic attacks that would torment him. He often wondered what Clare got from being with him. Maybe he was like a small, injured bird to her, one she believed she could nurse back to health. That was probably it. Where he felt love, Clare felt pity.
It was autumn when she left. The leaves were brown and orange. He knew it was close to winter as with every inhalation his nostrils chilled more than usual. With every exhalation a faint mist had started to appear. It had been three months since they last spoke. Three months since they had made the decision that pulled them apart. They had decided to meet to sort things out, but neither of them felt prepared to talk.
They headed through the woods and the old people walked past with their dogs. Clare would play with all the dogs that passed, while he made pleasantries with their owners. They would keep up the visage of a happy couple whenever people appeared. After the people left an uncomfortable silence would once again envelop the atmosphere.
Without warning, as if alerted to something, Clare turned off the main path and cut into the deeper woods. Few people went off the paths. There were signs that warned of animal traps.
He remembered the times they’d seen these signs before. Clare would say, “They should spend less time putting signs up and more time stopping the people doing it!” All he could reply with was something like, “I guess it can’t be helped. We’ll just have to be cautious as we walk.”
The woods were the home for rabbits, squirrels, and sometimes deer. He tried to walk with caution, avoiding overgrown areas, whilst also keeping up with Clare. He carved markings in the trees with a flick knife his grandfather had given before he died. That way they could find their way back. Clare never asked about his Grandfather; he’d been the only butcher in a small community and she hated that. But he was dead now and to speak ill of the dead was like screaming into the wind. He knew she wouldn’t like the idea of cutting into the trees, but he thought it was better than getting lost. He hoped that would comfort her.
They were very deep in the woods when they heard the noise. They headed towards the sound. What was hardly audible soon became clearer. It sounded like a young child screaming. He assumed that someone’s son or daughter had wandered off and stood on one of the animal traps. The closer they got the more awful the sound became. A strange smell began to permeate through the air, a slight taste of copper mixed with the breeze. Clare looked pale and worried, the pain in the cry they were nearing was making her nauseous. She placed her hands over her ears, trying to muffle the sound, but it was too loud. He took the scarf he was wearing from round his neck and wrapped it around her head, covering her ears. It didn’t do much, but she seemed to appreciate the gesture.
In a small clearing was a baby deer and he remembered Clare telling him they were called fawns. He wondered if this was the same one they had seen a few months ago the last time they had been together. They had been walking as they always did when Clare had grabbed his shoulder to freeze him in his tracks. She whispered in his ear. A small creature stood unaware of their presence. They watched it for a few minutes before it bounded off into the trees. In those few moments he had almost understood why Clare was so captivated by nature. There was a purity to the entire thing, a moment untouched by the pains of being human.
Clare examined the creature in front of them to see what the problem was, but it didn’t take long to figure it out. One of its hind legs was snared in what looked like a bear trap. There were no bears in these woods, but someone had placed it to catch something. The deer had struggled so hard to get free that most of the flesh had torn away and the bone was showing.
Clare backed away with tears in her eyes.
“Mike, what are we going to do?”
The deer was writhing in pain. Its body would flail wildly, and it would scream towards them, begging for help. He looked into its eyes, trying to escape from their sockets the way eyes do when an animal knows it’s near death. He knew the poor thing was doomed. He knew there was no other option. He pulled out his flick knife.
“Clare, please, don’t look. I’m so sorry.”
Clare didn’t turn away. She saw and heard the first scream. He stabbed the knife between the rib cage, trying to pierce the heart and end its suffering. He placed his free hand on the top of the neck, below the jaw, and the deer began to calm a little and stopped thrashing.
He could hear Clare crying. He could feel the deer’s heavy, laboured, breathing, and he could smell the blood. But there wasn’t anything he could do. Even if the deer survived, its life would be so complicated it didn’t seem fair to prolong its pain. He kept stabbing at the deer, bruising his hand. The cheap metal of the blade bending as they both smashed against the tough bone of the rib cage. The deer began to fall silent until its cries and movements came to a complete stop. He wiped the blade on the grass and the blood left a stain.
They didn’t say a single word on the walk back. They followed the markings on the trees, Clare not once mentioning the carvings. They sat in silence at the bus stop, the only words spoken were by Clare as she boarded the bus.
“Goodbye, Mike.”
She phoned the next morning,
“Mike, I know what you did was the right thing. But every time I close my eyes, I see you stabbing that fawn. I’m sorry, Mike, but I can’t see you anymore.”
“Is this really about the deer, Clare?”
“I wish I could get past it, but I can’t.”
“If I’d known you were going to feel this way, I wouldn’t have let you go through with it.”
“YOU said we couldn’t handle it, YOU said it wasn’t fair on any of us.”
“I thought it was the right thing. If the same had happened and there hadn’t been complications, then…”
Then she hung up. There would be no arguments, only the aftermath of her decision. The more he thought about it the more he realised that there was nothing that could change the way she felt. It seemed a waste to throw what they had away over one little deer, but he knew it was more than just that.
He finished the coffee and got dressed. He headed into the woods near where he lived. He walked off the path looking for markings in the trees and hoped they could both move on now.
It was Saturday.
submitted by Wise-Significance-47 to shortstories [link] [comments]
“If I’d known you were going to feel this way, I wouldn’t have let you go through with it.”
“YOU said we couldn’t handle it, YOU said it wasn’t fair on any of us.”
“I thought it was the right thing. If the same had happened and there hadn’t been complications, then…”
She hung up the phone. He was glad, he couldn’t stand to listen anymore. It wasn’t that he didn’t miss her, he couldn’t deal with the fact it was a pain that he caused that had ended it.
He poured a second coffee, lit a cigarette, and sat staring out of the window. He felt like crying. He felt this way most mornings but never did. It was as if the emotion clung inside but didn’t want to leave. If he could sob hard for an hour or so he’d feel better, but he couldn’t. So he sat and stared out of the window, across to the woods.
Clare was a hippy. Her family were too, and so were her friends. She only ever shopped at charity shops and not a single one of her immediate family ate meat or cheese. Clare was a hippy, but he still loved her. Or perhaps he loved her because of that. She loved nature and animals more than anyone he’d ever met. He couldn’t care half as much as that about his own well-being, let alone an animal. But when he saw her reaction, even if an old man merely walked past her with a dog, it made him wish he could care that much.
They used to walk to the woods, near to where he lived, most weekends. He didn’t have the money to take her anywhere special, but she didn’t seem to mind. He’d been unable to hold down a job for more than a few weeks. Not due to a lack of skill, but an inability to cope with the severe panic attacks that would torment him. He often wondered what Clare got from being with him. Maybe he was like a small, injured bird to her, one she believed she could nurse back to health. That was probably it. Where he felt love, Clare felt pity.
It was autumn when she left. The leaves were brown and orange. He knew it was close to winter as with every inhalation his nostrils chilled more than usual. With every exhalation a faint mist had started to appear. It had been three months since they last spoke. Three months since they had made the decision that pulled them apart. They had decided to meet to sort things out, but neither of them felt prepared to talk.
They headed through the woods and the old people walked past with their dogs. Clare would play with all the dogs that passed, while he made pleasantries with their owners. They would keep up the visage of a happy couple whenever people appeared. After the people left an uncomfortable silence would once again envelop the atmosphere.
Without warning, as if alerted to something, Clare turned off the main path and cut into the deeper woods. Few people went off the paths. There were signs that warned of animal traps.
He remembered the times they’d seen these signs before. Clare would say, “They should spend less time putting signs up and more time stopping the people doing it!” All he could reply with was something like, “I guess it can’t be helped. We’ll just have to be cautious as we walk.”
The woods were the home for rabbits, squirrels, and sometimes deer. He tried to walk with caution, avoiding overgrown areas, whilst also keeping up with Clare. He carved markings in the trees with a flick knife his grandfather had given before he died. That way they could find their way back. Clare never asked about his Grandfather; he’d been the only butcher in a small community and she hated that. But he was dead now and to speak ill of the dead was like screaming into the wind. He knew she wouldn’t like the idea of cutting into the trees, but he thought it was better than getting lost. He hoped that would comfort her.
They were very deep in the woods when they heard the noise. They headed towards the sound. What was hardly audible soon became clearer. It sounded like a young child screaming. He assumed that someone’s son or daughter had wandered off and stood on one of the animal traps. The closer they got the more awful the sound became. A strange smell began to permeate through the air, a slight taste of copper mixed with the breeze. Clare looked pale and worried, the pain in the cry they were nearing was making her nauseous. She placed her hands over her ears, trying to muffle the sound, but it was too loud. He took the scarf he was wearing from round his neck and wrapped it around her head, covering her ears. It didn’t do much, but she seemed to appreciate the gesture.
In a small clearing was a baby deer and he remembered Clare telling him they were called fawns. He wondered if this was the same one they had seen a few months ago the last time they had been together. They had been walking as they always did when Clare had grabbed his shoulder to freeze him in his tracks. She whispered in his ear. A small creature stood unaware of their presence. They watched it for a few minutes before it bounded off into the trees. In those few moments he had almost understood why Clare was so captivated by nature. There was a purity to the entire thing, a moment untouched by the pains of being human.
Clare examined the creature in front of them to see what the problem was, but it didn’t take long to figure it out. One of its hind legs was snared in what looked like a bear trap. There were no bears in these woods, but someone had placed it to catch something. The deer had struggled so hard to get free that most of the flesh had torn away and the bone was showing.
Clare backed away with tears in her eyes.
“Mike, what are we going to do?”
The deer was writhing in pain. Its body would flail wildly, and it would scream towards them, begging for help. He looked into its eyes, trying to escape from their sockets the way eyes do when an animal knows it’s near death. He knew the poor thing was doomed. He knew there was no other option. He pulled out his flick knife.
“Clare, please, don’t look. I’m so sorry.”
Clare didn’t turn away. She saw and heard the first scream. He stabbed the knife between the rib cage, trying to pierce the heart and end its suffering. He placed his free hand on the top of the neck, below the jaw, and the deer began to calm a little and stopped thrashing.
He could hear Clare crying. He could feel the deer’s heavy, laboured, breathing, and he could smell the blood. But there wasn’t anything he could do. Even if the deer survived, its life would be so complicated it didn’t seem fair to prolong its pain. He kept stabbing at the deer, bruising his hand. The cheap metal of the blade bending as they both smashed against the tough bone of the rib cage. The deer began to fall silent until its cries and movements came to a complete stop. He wiped the blade on the grass and the blood left a stain.
They didn’t say a single word on the walk back. They followed the markings on the trees, Clare not once mentioning the carvings. They sat in silence at the bus stop, the only words spoken were by Clare as she boarded the bus.
“Goodbye, Mike.”
She phoned the next morning,
“Mike, I know what you did was the right thing. But every time I close my eyes, I see you stabbing that fawn. I’m sorry, Mike, but I can’t see you anymore.”
“Is this really about the deer, Clare?”
“I wish I could get past it, but I can’t.”
“If I’d known you were going to feel this way, I wouldn’t have let you go through with it.”
“YOU said we couldn’t handle it, YOU said it wasn’t fair on any of us.”
“I thought it was the right thing. If the same had happened and there hadn’t been complications, then…”
Then she hung up. There would be no arguments, only the aftermath of her decision. The more he thought about it the more he realised that there was nothing that could change the way she felt. It seemed a waste to throw what they had away over one little deer, but he knew it was more than just that.
He finished the coffee and got dressed. He headed into the woods near where he lived. He walked off the path looking for markings in the trees and hoped they could both move on now.
It was Saturday.
2023.04.02 14:59 rachatouille I'd really appreciate feedback on this novella that I'm writing (~6000, modernist fiction)
This is the first part of my novella, Lady Lu (the title is still in the works). A brief synopsis: this novella follows a week in the life of Lu, a poor cardboard collector who lives in Sham Shui Po, Hong Kong. As she encounters bizarre obsessions her mind indulges in and an amplified existence her body endures, she is forced to witness a world and a self that has changed beyond recognition.
Thank you so much if you chose to read it and provide feedback. It's a bit long, sorry, but I hope it's worth the read.
I.
Her hands can’t feel much now, for years of harsh tsaiguabu soaked in watered down dish soap, grainy trash bags, and surprisingly sharp cardboard edges have carved out valleys of veins and wrinkled palms and faded lifelines; they have dulled her senses. She can’t yet make up her mind as to whether she preferred that or not, because sometimes, numbness is the best antidote to incurable pain, but other times, the monotonous humdrum of that anesthesia takes away the simple joy of sensation, that which can be found in a slew of cold water washing away the sweat from a back-breaking load of cardboard. It is hard for Reality to keep her attention; she can no longer tell cotton from polyester by touch, or hot from cold. At least this helps her to better sink into the comfort of her bare stained mattress in the sweltering heat waves. They go up to forty degrees sometimes in the summer (some kooky old neighbors went out to put frying pans on the asphalt to see if the eggs could really cook and yes, they did cook) and old man Xu Pin right next door isn’t the most pleasant-smelling fella.
Still, the snap-crackle of fan blades spinning in a stumbling staccato rhythm welcomes her back to Reality. Although the fiery defiance of dawn’s sun rays has just begun to pierce through grimy windows, there are already voices echoing the halls. Some, like her, are cardboard collectors, whose work hours start from sunrise; some are restless sleepers, who make their early stirrings everyone else’s problem, loud bastards, the lot; and some are already offering their consciousness up for sacrifice. They cough their lungs out, day and night, a raspy version of a heartbeat in the background.
Lu pulls open the plywood sliding doors to let some sun into her windowless room. These plywood rooms are the newer areas of the subdivided apartments; on the other side naked mesh wire separates the exposed residents. Right opposite from her, she can see Xu Pin with a glass pipe, obscured by the half-opened door at certain angles.
“Lu! How the hell are you on this fine morning? Getting ready for work?” he says, gaunt face spasming in time with his stresses and intonation.
“Old brother, I’m telling you, stay off the drugs, ay. Your liver isn’t what it used to be.”
He waves it off, cracking a toothy laugh.“It’s not like I got much to lose.” Xu Pin laughs a lot, and it always comes from deep in his belly.
“Have you forgotten about Wednesday braised pork?” Lu replies and he concedes, laughing again, but once she’s turned her back, faint wisps of milky smoke waft over.
This conversation used to be an everyday occurrence, but soon enough Lu gave up because he’s heard the lectures enough times to know for himself, and if the glass pipe finds itself lit again in the middle of the night, then she supposes that’s his response. She understands though; you gotta do what you gotta do to instill just enough life back in these fizzled-out corpse-like bodies; it’s a defibrillator; it’s a half-plugged life support. Hers is work; her knuckles and stocky build are hard-knock strong, made for work. To not put herself to work would be a waste! She knows those fancy suit-clad men turn their noses up at her carts of cardboard when they aren’t ignoring her, but if the world was really left to their hands, the landfills would do as its name suggests: fill up the land. They want everything to be shiny new new, fresh out the oven, practically still smelling of the factories and the small overworked hands that assembled them.
She pulls out her folded cart from behind the fan, ducking under her multicolored hangers dangling on the pipes that lined the walls. Her walls are sparse, save some hooks for plastic bags, narrow shelves nailed there, and a calendar, to which the page with yesterday’s date still clings on, as if afraid to face the new day. She doesn’t have many material possessions, partially because her room is already struggling to fit a mattress and a shelf – any more and she’d be buried alive when they eventually topple over – and partially because she doesn’t see much value in material items. She only needs her fan to shoo away the heat waves and her TV to get through days when work ends early because the gods smiled upon her rival instead, Chan jie, that sneaky little somethin fast-walking to steal all her cardboard. Not many options other than her good old TV to keep her mind running: she would prop a lumpy pillow up, lie down, and stay there unmoving for hours on end, filling up her brain and body with news, gossip, travesties, anything really, to push out all the bits that belong to her. She wouldn’t have anyone to talk to at this hour either; in the afternoon, not many people would still be in their rooms — either they are working or finding a place, any place, to take a break from home. If she has enough energy, she’d get out her best outfit, comb through her hair and tie it up into a neat bun, and turn an Ikea-framed photograph that normally faced the walls around to talk to it. The photograph is frayed at the edges, the color fading to a sort of bruise-purple. It isn’t a very good picture if one pays closer attention: it’s out of focus and the boy in the picture is making the nastiest of faces, which she had told him a million upon million times not to do – “don’t put the same fingers you just put in your nose in your mouth!” Facing the wall is also a one-eyed teddy bear looking like it’s been to hell or worse, gifted to her from someone long ago. The cotton filling is ripped out in some places, so she sewed it back together, but it still threatens to bulge out of every seam. In short, the bear’s seen better days.
In any case, it’s not as though she has much money to spare for amenities after treating herself to a hearty bowl of braised pork belly a week, which is what’s kept her going for so long; really don’t underestimate the power of a warm meal. Although she has been the best cardboard collector on Yen Chow Street for three years straight now (in her opinion; there isn’t an official ranking), there’s not much money in it – she knows that. She had flipped through mountainous stacks of newspaper clippings, scramble of phone numbers scratched on post-it notes or the backs of receipts (that she saved up with an irrational dream of winning the lottery in mind), but she was met with voice mails or dismissive promises that scheduled a job interview that would never go anywhere. She couldn’t read and write either, so there went half the jobs she qualified for, and Wenhan had tried to teach her, in between loads of laundry or while she waited for the chicken thighs to marinate, but Lord, she could not tell this stroke from that line for the life of her. Her little brother, the smart one of the family, enjoyed the prestige at the top, while Lu’s teachers only sang praises of her inhuman cleaning speed and diligence for learning: respectable but misplaced.
“If you’re so good at cleaning,” her mother had declared, “then why don’t you come help me with our chores?”
Her father stood up from the stained armchair, which had been a loyal friend on lonely beer-filled nights to him. “No use for a half-brained girl to waste time there. I don’t want Lu-tang sissying around with a bunch of those snobby educated folks either but your mother begged.”
“Your father is right. You’re better off here, Lulu.”
There was no point in fighting them; it would take a million horses to bend their iron will. Lu used to think that their brains were once filled with liquid cement that solidified and hardened and cracked. In the meantime, she would do as they say, maintain peace, feign obedience, until her opening came and she would run without stopping all the way to the city, even if she were barefoot, even if the roads were soaked. The promises that her aunties had chirped about, glossy men and painted women, and the mysterious dangers her ah-ma had sensationalized, the bat-wielding criminals lurking around every corner, enticed her. And when the chance did come, she really didn’t hesitate. Freedom came at a hefty price, tooth and nail. Failure was not an option, and as long as she stays in the city, she hasn’t failed. She won’t give them the satisfaction.
She slides on red plastic slippers, the same ones the rich kids use to squash crickets out of boredom or cruelty and creeps down, rung by rung, down the ladder. This apartment is packed with tenants, sixteen of them to be exact, and though Lu moved in first six years ago, she’s still considered one of the newer residents. Only the top bunks were available at that time. And now whenever Yui Fong tai-tai complained of her heavy-footed earbud-despising upstairs neighbor thumping around at odd hours in the night, Lu would count her blessings and store this memory for when she curses the rickety metal ladder. In general, noise is a constant here: these coffin rooms are not forgiving of familial conflicts, or even the faint kow-pows of old kung-fu movies to remind them of an earlier, more mythical and therefore better time. They are stacked and crammed like kennels, fit for a dog, the rich would probably jeer during their fancy dinner parties. No, they wouldn’t waste time for such a topic, pitiful to them for sure – in Sham Shui Po, the scavengers scrabbling for scraps are swept away into these monstrous buildings: out of sight, out of mind.
Just last week, in fact, the government posted a clearance notice for the homeless occupying the bridge a few blocks away – really, eviction would be the right word for it, because it was their home, and wasn’t the government the one who said home is where the heart is with a cheery smile (well, she consoled herself, at least they will get more smile lines than anyone). It was because they were making quite a disturbance, because of all the sins, disgust had the strongest stench to it. She knew a lady who stayed there for a while once upon a time; she was always fired up about something, she remembered. That lady got up at six a.m. sharp every day to go for a jog, then came back with a renewed passion for life. She would ring Lu up, saying there was a horde of tourists near the bridge and she would talk trash about them, which Grandma Lu was always secretly giddy about. If a particularly ostentatious tourist were decked in white fox fur in Hong Kong of all places, they’d pray to Earth God for it to get hotter or rainy, at their own expense. “She’d look like a wet sewer cat,” said the lady. “More like a clump of ji dan gao stamped on by muddy boots,” said Lu. “God, these rich people! In this heat?” “In this air?” They’d have a good laugh, and a good laugh was the best medicine she’d tried so far. But staring was an abominable crime (this only applies to one direction), and the rich tourists felt slighted by this attention, so whispers of rumors that eviction was near flew around. Lu didn’t understand their annoyance; wasn’t the point of wearing such luxuries to show off? for people to gawk at? Sure there’d be negative attention amongst, but this was a small price for opulence, and evidence for one’s existence.
She went to the bridge a week later to see if any of them stuck around – that lady would, wouldn’t she? – but it was empty as a properly finished bowl of rice, dog-licked-clean. Keeping an eye out during her cardboard runs was easy enough, but she could not find a good enough reason for herself to justify any more searching, unless she admitted to herself that this lady made some impression on her akin to friendship, but for her, such things were weak links. One tear, one wound was enough; the disease would spread, and hopelessness would infect you. What she called hopelessness though, others called enlightenment. Clarity! they whispered, rubbing their hands together in cold winters, or fanning their sweaty necks in summer; as they jumped down Tsing Ma Bridge, they embraced the air, and though none of them were able to recount the tale, she assumed that flying was the most wonderful experience they had had, a last hurrah of sorts.
Palming the concrete wall surface wedged against her body, she squeezed her way down the hallway. The kitchen came into view; so did Yui Fong, hunched over a cutting board, who always said ‘early bird gets the worm’ and did as she preached.
“Oh, smells delicious!” Lu sidestepped onto grubby tiles.
“Don’t you lie to me now, Lu po-po; I only make steamed or boiled dishes.” Yui Fong had tried to get everyone on this floor to do the same, to no avail alas, because stir-fry glossed in oil and dripping in sauces was a siren’s call. But just wait, they’ll regret it; once they have a pat of their belly and take a look at the walls dotted with browning stains like burn holes in paper, the siren rears her head. Oil was impossible to scrub off, Lu had tried and will testify to this, let alone sixteen times that.
“How I admire you for it. Before I forget, do you want some turnips for tonight? The ah-bei there told me there’s a fresh shipment coming in today. I’ll be stopping by the market anyway so it’ll be no trouble.”
Yui Fong stopped her stirring. “Ah you’re too kind, Lu. That would be great. They say the secret to living to ninety-nine years old is turnip soup. I will save some for you.”
“Thank you, thank you. But ninety-nine years is too damn long for me, ha-ha.”
She catches herself eyeing the coffee jar; it’s been so long since she’s felt that miraculous shiver of energy, since her last doctor visit burdened her with the knowledge that her heart was ill-suited for caffeine. She resists; she’ll save that for an especially hard day.
Once again Lu finds her palm hugging the wall as she makes her way downstairs. Opening the main door – as always Fortune Guest House and fancy Vegetarian’s Paradise stand imposing. The sun splashes onto the city, just like the rain had done just moments ago (such is summer weather), the shine making the city look like it were wrapped in cellophane. Perhaps it is; she has never touched any of those new skyscrapers; it could very well be still in its protective gear to shield itself from the dirty outside world. Mannequin-like people in it safe and sound too.
One of the wheels on her cart is faulty, so it skids along the puddles spasming like a kid about to piss his pants in class. She hurries along the length of Yu Chau Street, stopping occasionally to pick up a spare cardboard here or there, but her main goal is the big Seven-Eleven two blocks down that hands stacks of them out and oh here the phrase ‘early bird gets the worm’ truly applies.
Big fruit lies in store, big fruit, she tells herself as she resists the urge to stop at some smaller stores first. She remembers this story her mother once told her – all her bedtime stories were just a cover for some secret moral lesson – the Lord says to Man, “here, pick the most beautiful rock you see. There are lots of precious rocks ahead of you, diamonds galore, but there is no turning back. Pick only one, and pick wisely.” The man passes by pebbles, then big slabs of rock, rubies, emeralds – now we’re getting somewhere! The world is his oyster, and oh the pearls it’ll offer to him! they make his mouth water! Man thinks, as long as he keeps going (the saying patience is a virtue drolled on in his head), the treasures can only get better. So he fights temptation, strangles it beyond its dying breath, and forgoes diamonds for something better; there’s always better. Tipping the balance, eradicating satisfaction end in crumbled hopes and clumps of dirt, which lay in wait for him at the end.
If she had the chance, Lu would never pass up tangibility for some abstract possibility in the clouds, in the fog. It’s given her good times, perhaps not excellent but good enough for her. So she gave hurried thanks, snatched the cardboard and didn’t bother to tie up the stack with pink plastic string, stumbling with her cart down down down.
And there she stands, in all her ghastly atrociousness, one hand on a leaning Pisa-tower of cardboard, one hand on her hip, smirking at Lu. The devil in plastic quilted jacket! Lu tsks and slinks off to queue for any remaining scraps.
“If it isn’t Lu po-po!”
“If it isn’t Chan jie,” she wishes.
“Got some more hours of sleep today, did you?”
“That must mean I look particularly good today then. You should try it, more sleep I mean. It’s not good to wear yourself out,” Lu entertains her. The alternative, staring at the dizzying traffic in the streets, isn’t a strong contender.
Finally it’s her turn and as she predicts, there isn’t much cardboard left. Well, bit by bit is how the pile grows. And now she’s determined, out of spite, to gather at least more than Chan jie; it won’t do to just submit to her gloating, no it won’t. The shadows tower over her; it must still be early morning. They cast down on metal garage doors, which sever them into wavering static, a little to the left or the right. Lu turns the corner onto Tai Nan street. Leather stench hits her without warning, recognizing her veteran status. Leather may be pretty but it sure doesn’t agree with the heat; at this rate it’ll taste worse than a piece of that over-boiled beef shoulder she had the displeasure of chewing at Fat Man Chou’s. She sees the signs hovering above, this company and that – Tong-De, Mian-Fong, they all sound the same to her – extending past where they’re welcome; they look like news headlines framing her. Imagine that! Her, smack in the middle of Headline Daily’s front page, still with the flowing black hair she oiled up and massaged every night in the dark, twirling around in that yellow sundress, some hot new celebrity on her arm. And the reporters, they’ll crowd in droves, “Lady Lu, look here!”, “No, here! Tell us, who are you wearing?” And she’ll say proudly, spine straight-up, “My mamma made it,” teeth all gleaming in the flash, white and pearly still…
It doesn’t have to be that; she’s never been a fame chaser. She could also join the other side and don a pair of glasses, notepad in hand, expose the corruption in glass towers and the seedy underbelly gorged with triad legends. A glimpse of a tattooed arm or the lack of an arm (for if you betrayed them, their infamous meat cleaver would kiss the outer skin, then force its way into the sinews, a brandishing of tough love) would spark rumors. It is in their nature that rumors exaggerate, but this time Lu isn’t so sure; the Triad’s name precedes them; there must be a reason. Aside from their chopping prowess, they apparently also had the magical ability to induce amnesia, like wizards! Lu’s seen on the news one day that all five eyewitnesses who were supposed to testify against a Triad leader suddenly succumbed to memory loss; at least with memory you’re more likely to get that back, as opposed to an arm. Well, those are all old dreams; she reminds herself to not get lost in the once-upon-a-times. One thing comes and one thing goes: even though she does live near the dark side now, her youth has dissolved like the black pigment in her hair. She’s much too concerned about getting by day to day to get into any of that.
To make up for her overactive imagination, Lu’s developed a skill to absentmindedly pick up cardboard like a drug-sniffing dog. Her tendons take over, and she lets them; she can do it blindfolded even. It’s a skill as worthy of admiration as, say, sprinting a one-hundred-meter dash. Come on, let’s see that Usain Bolt haul these stacks! (She’s impressed herself with her outstanding memory; apparently hearing the name once on the news, in passing too, is enough!)
Lu sifts through her latest cardboard conquests tugging at the hastily-tied strings. Her trusty pen-knife is always within reach in her pocket, which she checks daily to make sure there are no holes. First she slices the cardboard down with the precision of a butcher; corrugated wrinkles smiling at her. Then, using her fists, she pounds down to flatten them, stay there now don’t you move, she warned. The cardboard defers to her at once. Once they were spectacular too; this box once carried Korean strawberries in its arms, sailing across more seas than she’s seen; and this one? parts of a Philips lamp; then, cram school workbooks. Whatever was in them has gone on to live, not necessarily better lives, but living nonetheless.
Not before long though, her cart starts to wobble more than the stacks can take. They’re threatening to tip over at any minute now, so taking them to a nearby recycling depot is the best course of action, Lu decides. She’s saving up for a new cart, one of them fancy ones with a bell so she wouldn’t have to clear her throat to scrape out any hoarseness, and yell with a voice unexpected of such a short woman, “Excuse me please! Let me through for a second, thank you!” It’s tough to compete with caged canaries squawking, cars honking, and market-people squabbling. Plus, the cart has four functional wheels. She’ll have to get used to that.
Hearing the desperate bargaining at the bigger recycling depots, truckloads of’em, she can’t help but chuckle. She’s been in the game for so long, she knows all the neighborhood secrets. She knows that if you cut across the big parking lot, as swift as a mother cutting watermelon for her screaming children in the peak of summer, because at any time there can be a car jumpscaring the living spirit out of you, you can find, squeezed between an electronics store and a shoe store, a little-known depot. A kind old couple runs this place, complete with decrepit green-tinted walls and a permanently sticky floor; god knows how they’ve kept this place afloat. They are always generous with their weighing: if Lu’s cardboard weighed at seven point eight kilograms, Mr. Lam would wave it off and round up to eight. It makes a world of difference, five cents worth. The big depots would cheat ya and say “Oh it’s tattered, it’s no good…” isn’t it all the same recycled! Another thing they don’t have: Mrs. Lam’s various holiday dishes that she shoves in Lu’s hands because she already knows the ol’ song and dance of “Aiya, no, Lam tai-tai, you’re too kind…are you sure? Really are you sure?” Here Lu must cut in and say, before you think she’s selfish for not sharing this info with her fellow collectors, it’s every woman for herself in this line of work, it ain’t fair but ho-ho what part about any of this is?
This other trick she’s also acquired by way of close observation, not trade talk; at first she only attributed their early hustling to diligence, but soon she realized that Hong Kong humidity had its perks. In the morning, air – in the form of wet particles – gushes into her nostrils, sinks its melting claws in the unwilling cardboard, burdening it with added weight. While this exchange is going on, with hawk-like eyes, Lu swoops in and captures the heavy cardboard, heavy with promise of a few cents more.
“Altogether…twenty-nine kilograms. There you go!”
Ey, not bad. But still she inquires, careful to celebrate, “How much?” Prices fluctuate at the drop of a hat; now whose hat? big Boss up north, of course.
“Seven cents per kilo, just like last week,” Mr. Lam beamed. This plus some fruit money is just enough to live on; and every day at Mr. Lam’s recycling depot, the fate of the week has been decided: a good week or a bad week, all depending on whether there will be enough room in the budget for an extra helping of sausage. She pats herself on the back; she’s done a mighty good job today.
Off she goes, off to Apliu Street, the thieves’ market, plucking the broken electronic components out, before snatching away all the cardboard before anyone else even laid their eyes on it. She gallops with the feet of a horse and hauls with the belly of a supernatural spirit. That’s the norm though; it’s a hidden prerequisite to become a collector. Competition is fierce for a Tuesday, but it’s all about winning the long race, the war over mere battles. So when she feels sweat beads roll down to her eyes, which blink angrily at the salty intrusion, she decides perhaps it’s time for a sit-down.
There it is – her bench, glistening gray-green with glassy paint-like splotches on it, and all hers for the whole lunch break. In her pink velcro-stick bag hanging on the side of her cart she has tucked away a neatly-wrapped Seven-Eleven pork-floss onigiri. She savors every taste of that, no matter that it is cold and nothing like the homemade ones, certified Jiangsu authentic, and oh she imagines the smell leads her up to gilded temples, to yellowed wheat fields, wherever it would go, she shall follow… Amongst all the chewing, suddenly her tongue goes numb, eerily tasteless, more than before at least. The culprit: a plastic bit stuck in the rice. She never knew how to open these goddamned plastic wrapping, step one, step two, ah just rip it apart and be done with it! Maybe when she first came to the city – she admits, she treasured the way each strip would glide down its destined pathway, the instructions, like they knew the answers and if you just follow the steps, you’ll get there, they assured. Like hell they do. They’re just better at slapping the horses’ butts, then climbing up the social ladder with those same dirty hands; that’s not even to mention the ones already at the top, sitting there on human thrones.
Lu swears, next time – and this time it will be different – she’ll make herself a packed lunch instead of this convenience store junk. A strange feeling, to scold herself the same way she would to… no one in particular, any picky brat. It is at times like these when she feels so close to Sleep that she’d be grateful for the ever-present noise in the streets; now are those pots and pans she hears? Ah, Sleep would be so motherly and kind and She’d embrace her; hard to fight that and gravity off; her eyelids kept drooping. Being good at waking up on time every day means the biggest yawns, impossibly big; she could swallow her throat whole and suck out all the air around. But the shouts – she makes out signs as well so perhaps it’s from a protest – won’t let her doze off. That is good; it keeps her schedule in check.
Where to next? Her legs march to the beat of Sham Shui Po’s thumping heart; as her feet slap down onto solid ground, she imagines feeling the grainy texture of Poplar Street through her worn soles. Like a meticulously trained doctor whose finger presses down at the exact spot to find a pulse, without hesitant circling indicating trial and error, Lu needs not to wait for the city to tell her what it needs. The alleys coiling around main streets, the telephone wires that drape lazily off apartment balconies, hell, even the fly-swatters spinning in dazed anger – they divulge secrets to her. This is a shortcut, they say. Look out! The vegetable vendor is hosing down the street again, they say. Perhaps the city’s roots have taken hold of her, boring inside to twist together with her veins. The city is a good ally to have on your side; who else has been around longer than these stoic, silent observers? They lend a different sort of comfort than people, something more stable. Concrete is by far a stabler material than flesh.
As soon as Lu steps onto the zebra crossing, the red guy bumps out the green, and she is forced to take a step backwards. These motorcycles are ruthless; it’s hard to imagine a time when roads were for people and vehicles were relegated to the tracks. From the front, kicked-up dust from zooming cars veil her vision; from the sides, pedestrians wedge themselves beside her. Among them is a tour guide with uncountable orange ducklings following him by way of microphone-enhanced instructions and a muscle-shirt-clad gym rat whose armpits cast two droopy damp shadows. And his logic is to use something even stronger to cover up all that sweat. If there ever are more cockroaches in her room than she can thwack, it’ll be a good idea to invite him over; not even the roaches’ll dare approach this! She will never and can never forget the toxic fumes of that odorous body spray weaseling their way into the seams of her gangster Mickey Mouse shirt (actually, it’s spelled ‘Mikeye Mouse’ for copyright reasons). Bought it half off at the wet market; she supposes this manly body spray does fit the whole gold-chain aesthetic better than its original fish stink.
Although this busy bustle is transpiring all around, Lu feels calm at this intersection. Time stands still for her, but not for everybody else; they’re still hurrying to catch this bus, scurrying for work. Soon she will join them, once this red light turns green. For now though, the red light absolves her of the guilt that always comes with rest; it feels like the Lord has cupped a bubble around her to protect her from ever-marching Time. She watches them through glassy eyes, detached, in her own world, with her own set of rules. Queen Lu! her subjects would hail, donning the poofiest scruff-collars, scattered daisies on a meadow. As Queen, the first law she shall invoke? Free mandatory massage and needling for every citizen! Every week!
Blink, and it’s green. So starts the countdown. At the end of this countdown the bomb doesn’t go off, but the impatient motorcycles sure will. Hand gripping her cart, Lu tries to cross the road, and she could’ve, if only these bastards would stop their squeezing and give poor old Lu a fighting chance! Her cart has become a burden, getting stuck between indistinguishable skinny-jeanned legs. It’s twenty fourteen; shouldn’t they have invented flying cars by now? and by extension, flying carts? Oh the view she’ll have, sweeping over the blocky districts, dwindling dots still scrambling about, but that’ll be of no concern to her, not anymore… But enough fantasies! she clears her throat. She’s a woman on a mission; survival is her impetus. She yanked her cart, bouncing between legs, and it’s working, she’s moving ahead! Apparently not fast enough, red overtakes her. In her rush – everything whizzing by in streaks of light, a cacophony of roaring motors – the light sedates her with a poisonous intention, and this dizzying hum that vibrates in her brain transfixes her in one spot. As her mind constrains her muscles to follow the zebra stripes, also having to dodge the swerving bicycles, gravity becomes lighter, and floats up, her feet too – into the air – and she trips, having not quite yet mastered the art of walking on air. The curb grazes her lower leg, but she clambers up quick; she’s a resilient old woman (thanks to her long earlobes) – she always manages; and her foot steps onto the sidewalk before the first engine whir.
“Po-po, are you okay?” The voice rings clear and breaks her brief trance. A smooth pale hand sticks stiff out – whoever it is must not have worked a day in their life.
“That’s okay, no need.” Grasping a more stable pole instead, she thanks the young man anyway and prepares to get going. But he is so terribly insistent, and pushy; so are the pedestrians who cannot stand even a second’s time lent. He repeats, a glitching robot, “You must need some help pushing the cart;” hands waving anywhere but near it. Hasn’t he heard the nos that came before? So far all Lu sees is: more ‘help’; more mess. Swarms of busybees dodge them by a hair; if they didn’t, she wouldn’t blame them; they are blocking the sidewalk. They are the people she’d give side-eyes to, taking up the whole street and whatnot, hmph.
When the shadowed cloud descends and shields her from light’s prying piercing pupils, she hurriedly slips away into obscurity. What’s important right now is breaking out of this crowd, seeking space; perhaps under one of the rusty metal roofs? Lu feels like a general, commanding her cart-soldier to sniff out a possible pathway; this requires strategy, my friend; she’d direct the army to flank from both sides in a V shape, yes, a V shape like in Red Cliff. She rides on out on army horses.
Safe in isolation now, she leans against the ridged column. She’s glad it wasn’t a sprain: the initial sting would be momentary — she can stand that — but the dull throb that would accompany her every step: that she fears. You can’t shake that off; it’s a stubborn leech. Still, better that than forced kindness. The two types that exist in this man-eat-man world: forced and malicious. The former, borne out of guilt whose stains of repugnance can’t be done away, no matter how many spins, topsy-turvy perspective shifts you give it. One look at the eyes, avoidant and seeded with pity, and she knows. The latter drapes a cotton coat over her shoulders; as it rains, and it will, no amount of shaking can rid Lu of the increasing weight as the tension between each waterlogged particle in each thread of yarn drags her down. Your debt catches up with you; kindness racks up a high bill.
So she continues on her cardboard quest; she hates to leave things unfinished. Lu is the Tortoise, crawling slowly but surely, despite the chances of winning against the Hare initially seeming ghost-thin. And who is this Hare? Chan jie, for one, and those damned government inspectors too! The spirit of competition scratches her back, tingly with nerves alive; the sidewalk suddenly feels like a moving walkway, and she bursts forwards, always forwards.
submitted by rachatouille to WritersGroup [link] [comments]
Thank you so much if you chose to read it and provide feedback. It's a bit long, sorry, but I hope it's worth the read.
I.
Her hands can’t feel much now, for years of harsh tsaiguabu soaked in watered down dish soap, grainy trash bags, and surprisingly sharp cardboard edges have carved out valleys of veins and wrinkled palms and faded lifelines; they have dulled her senses. She can’t yet make up her mind as to whether she preferred that or not, because sometimes, numbness is the best antidote to incurable pain, but other times, the monotonous humdrum of that anesthesia takes away the simple joy of sensation, that which can be found in a slew of cold water washing away the sweat from a back-breaking load of cardboard. It is hard for Reality to keep her attention; she can no longer tell cotton from polyester by touch, or hot from cold. At least this helps her to better sink into the comfort of her bare stained mattress in the sweltering heat waves. They go up to forty degrees sometimes in the summer (some kooky old neighbors went out to put frying pans on the asphalt to see if the eggs could really cook and yes, they did cook) and old man Xu Pin right next door isn’t the most pleasant-smelling fella.
Still, the snap-crackle of fan blades spinning in a stumbling staccato rhythm welcomes her back to Reality. Although the fiery defiance of dawn’s sun rays has just begun to pierce through grimy windows, there are already voices echoing the halls. Some, like her, are cardboard collectors, whose work hours start from sunrise; some are restless sleepers, who make their early stirrings everyone else’s problem, loud bastards, the lot; and some are already offering their consciousness up for sacrifice. They cough their lungs out, day and night, a raspy version of a heartbeat in the background.
Lu pulls open the plywood sliding doors to let some sun into her windowless room. These plywood rooms are the newer areas of the subdivided apartments; on the other side naked mesh wire separates the exposed residents. Right opposite from her, she can see Xu Pin with a glass pipe, obscured by the half-opened door at certain angles.
“Lu! How the hell are you on this fine morning? Getting ready for work?” he says, gaunt face spasming in time with his stresses and intonation.
“Old brother, I’m telling you, stay off the drugs, ay. Your liver isn’t what it used to be.”
He waves it off, cracking a toothy laugh.“It’s not like I got much to lose.” Xu Pin laughs a lot, and it always comes from deep in his belly.
“Have you forgotten about Wednesday braised pork?” Lu replies and he concedes, laughing again, but once she’s turned her back, faint wisps of milky smoke waft over.
This conversation used to be an everyday occurrence, but soon enough Lu gave up because he’s heard the lectures enough times to know for himself, and if the glass pipe finds itself lit again in the middle of the night, then she supposes that’s his response. She understands though; you gotta do what you gotta do to instill just enough life back in these fizzled-out corpse-like bodies; it’s a defibrillator; it’s a half-plugged life support. Hers is work; her knuckles and stocky build are hard-knock strong, made for work. To not put herself to work would be a waste! She knows those fancy suit-clad men turn their noses up at her carts of cardboard when they aren’t ignoring her, but if the world was really left to their hands, the landfills would do as its name suggests: fill up the land. They want everything to be shiny new new, fresh out the oven, practically still smelling of the factories and the small overworked hands that assembled them.
She pulls out her folded cart from behind the fan, ducking under her multicolored hangers dangling on the pipes that lined the walls. Her walls are sparse, save some hooks for plastic bags, narrow shelves nailed there, and a calendar, to which the page with yesterday’s date still clings on, as if afraid to face the new day. She doesn’t have many material possessions, partially because her room is already struggling to fit a mattress and a shelf – any more and she’d be buried alive when they eventually topple over – and partially because she doesn’t see much value in material items. She only needs her fan to shoo away the heat waves and her TV to get through days when work ends early because the gods smiled upon her rival instead, Chan jie, that sneaky little somethin fast-walking to steal all her cardboard. Not many options other than her good old TV to keep her mind running: she would prop a lumpy pillow up, lie down, and stay there unmoving for hours on end, filling up her brain and body with news, gossip, travesties, anything really, to push out all the bits that belong to her. She wouldn’t have anyone to talk to at this hour either; in the afternoon, not many people would still be in their rooms — either they are working or finding a place, any place, to take a break from home. If she has enough energy, she’d get out her best outfit, comb through her hair and tie it up into a neat bun, and turn an Ikea-framed photograph that normally faced the walls around to talk to it. The photograph is frayed at the edges, the color fading to a sort of bruise-purple. It isn’t a very good picture if one pays closer attention: it’s out of focus and the boy in the picture is making the nastiest of faces, which she had told him a million upon million times not to do – “don’t put the same fingers you just put in your nose in your mouth!” Facing the wall is also a one-eyed teddy bear looking like it’s been to hell or worse, gifted to her from someone long ago. The cotton filling is ripped out in some places, so she sewed it back together, but it still threatens to bulge out of every seam. In short, the bear’s seen better days.
In any case, it’s not as though she has much money to spare for amenities after treating herself to a hearty bowl of braised pork belly a week, which is what’s kept her going for so long; really don’t underestimate the power of a warm meal. Although she has been the best cardboard collector on Yen Chow Street for three years straight now (in her opinion; there isn’t an official ranking), there’s not much money in it – she knows that. She had flipped through mountainous stacks of newspaper clippings, scramble of phone numbers scratched on post-it notes or the backs of receipts (that she saved up with an irrational dream of winning the lottery in mind), but she was met with voice mails or dismissive promises that scheduled a job interview that would never go anywhere. She couldn’t read and write either, so there went half the jobs she qualified for, and Wenhan had tried to teach her, in between loads of laundry or while she waited for the chicken thighs to marinate, but Lord, she could not tell this stroke from that line for the life of her. Her little brother, the smart one of the family, enjoyed the prestige at the top, while Lu’s teachers only sang praises of her inhuman cleaning speed and diligence for learning: respectable but misplaced.
“If you’re so good at cleaning,” her mother had declared, “then why don’t you come help me with our chores?”
Her father stood up from the stained armchair, which had been a loyal friend on lonely beer-filled nights to him. “No use for a half-brained girl to waste time there. I don’t want Lu-tang sissying around with a bunch of those snobby educated folks either but your mother begged.”
“Your father is right. You’re better off here, Lulu.”
There was no point in fighting them; it would take a million horses to bend their iron will. Lu used to think that their brains were once filled with liquid cement that solidified and hardened and cracked. In the meantime, she would do as they say, maintain peace, feign obedience, until her opening came and she would run without stopping all the way to the city, even if she were barefoot, even if the roads were soaked. The promises that her aunties had chirped about, glossy men and painted women, and the mysterious dangers her ah-ma had sensationalized, the bat-wielding criminals lurking around every corner, enticed her. And when the chance did come, she really didn’t hesitate. Freedom came at a hefty price, tooth and nail. Failure was not an option, and as long as she stays in the city, she hasn’t failed. She won’t give them the satisfaction.
She slides on red plastic slippers, the same ones the rich kids use to squash crickets out of boredom or cruelty and creeps down, rung by rung, down the ladder. This apartment is packed with tenants, sixteen of them to be exact, and though Lu moved in first six years ago, she’s still considered one of the newer residents. Only the top bunks were available at that time. And now whenever Yui Fong tai-tai complained of her heavy-footed earbud-despising upstairs neighbor thumping around at odd hours in the night, Lu would count her blessings and store this memory for when she curses the rickety metal ladder. In general, noise is a constant here: these coffin rooms are not forgiving of familial conflicts, or even the faint kow-pows of old kung-fu movies to remind them of an earlier, more mythical and therefore better time. They are stacked and crammed like kennels, fit for a dog, the rich would probably jeer during their fancy dinner parties. No, they wouldn’t waste time for such a topic, pitiful to them for sure – in Sham Shui Po, the scavengers scrabbling for scraps are swept away into these monstrous buildings: out of sight, out of mind.
Just last week, in fact, the government posted a clearance notice for the homeless occupying the bridge a few blocks away – really, eviction would be the right word for it, because it was their home, and wasn’t the government the one who said home is where the heart is with a cheery smile (well, she consoled herself, at least they will get more smile lines than anyone). It was because they were making quite a disturbance, because of all the sins, disgust had the strongest stench to it. She knew a lady who stayed there for a while once upon a time; she was always fired up about something, she remembered. That lady got up at six a.m. sharp every day to go for a jog, then came back with a renewed passion for life. She would ring Lu up, saying there was a horde of tourists near the bridge and she would talk trash about them, which Grandma Lu was always secretly giddy about. If a particularly ostentatious tourist were decked in white fox fur in Hong Kong of all places, they’d pray to Earth God for it to get hotter or rainy, at their own expense. “She’d look like a wet sewer cat,” said the lady. “More like a clump of ji dan gao stamped on by muddy boots,” said Lu. “God, these rich people! In this heat?” “In this air?” They’d have a good laugh, and a good laugh was the best medicine she’d tried so far. But staring was an abominable crime (this only applies to one direction), and the rich tourists felt slighted by this attention, so whispers of rumors that eviction was near flew around. Lu didn’t understand their annoyance; wasn’t the point of wearing such luxuries to show off? for people to gawk at? Sure there’d be negative attention amongst, but this was a small price for opulence, and evidence for one’s existence.
She went to the bridge a week later to see if any of them stuck around – that lady would, wouldn’t she? – but it was empty as a properly finished bowl of rice, dog-licked-clean. Keeping an eye out during her cardboard runs was easy enough, but she could not find a good enough reason for herself to justify any more searching, unless she admitted to herself that this lady made some impression on her akin to friendship, but for her, such things were weak links. One tear, one wound was enough; the disease would spread, and hopelessness would infect you. What she called hopelessness though, others called enlightenment. Clarity! they whispered, rubbing their hands together in cold winters, or fanning their sweaty necks in summer; as they jumped down Tsing Ma Bridge, they embraced the air, and though none of them were able to recount the tale, she assumed that flying was the most wonderful experience they had had, a last hurrah of sorts.
Palming the concrete wall surface wedged against her body, she squeezed her way down the hallway. The kitchen came into view; so did Yui Fong, hunched over a cutting board, who always said ‘early bird gets the worm’ and did as she preached.
“Oh, smells delicious!” Lu sidestepped onto grubby tiles.
“Don’t you lie to me now, Lu po-po; I only make steamed or boiled dishes.” Yui Fong had tried to get everyone on this floor to do the same, to no avail alas, because stir-fry glossed in oil and dripping in sauces was a siren’s call. But just wait, they’ll regret it; once they have a pat of their belly and take a look at the walls dotted with browning stains like burn holes in paper, the siren rears her head. Oil was impossible to scrub off, Lu had tried and will testify to this, let alone sixteen times that.
“How I admire you for it. Before I forget, do you want some turnips for tonight? The ah-bei there told me there’s a fresh shipment coming in today. I’ll be stopping by the market anyway so it’ll be no trouble.”
Yui Fong stopped her stirring. “Ah you’re too kind, Lu. That would be great. They say the secret to living to ninety-nine years old is turnip soup. I will save some for you.”
“Thank you, thank you. But ninety-nine years is too damn long for me, ha-ha.”
She catches herself eyeing the coffee jar; it’s been so long since she’s felt that miraculous shiver of energy, since her last doctor visit burdened her with the knowledge that her heart was ill-suited for caffeine. She resists; she’ll save that for an especially hard day.
Once again Lu finds her palm hugging the wall as she makes her way downstairs. Opening the main door – as always Fortune Guest House and fancy Vegetarian’s Paradise stand imposing. The sun splashes onto the city, just like the rain had done just moments ago (such is summer weather), the shine making the city look like it were wrapped in cellophane. Perhaps it is; she has never touched any of those new skyscrapers; it could very well be still in its protective gear to shield itself from the dirty outside world. Mannequin-like people in it safe and sound too.
One of the wheels on her cart is faulty, so it skids along the puddles spasming like a kid about to piss his pants in class. She hurries along the length of Yu Chau Street, stopping occasionally to pick up a spare cardboard here or there, but her main goal is the big Seven-Eleven two blocks down that hands stacks of them out and oh here the phrase ‘early bird gets the worm’ truly applies.
Big fruit lies in store, big fruit, she tells herself as she resists the urge to stop at some smaller stores first. She remembers this story her mother once told her – all her bedtime stories were just a cover for some secret moral lesson – the Lord says to Man, “here, pick the most beautiful rock you see. There are lots of precious rocks ahead of you, diamonds galore, but there is no turning back. Pick only one, and pick wisely.” The man passes by pebbles, then big slabs of rock, rubies, emeralds – now we’re getting somewhere! The world is his oyster, and oh the pearls it’ll offer to him! they make his mouth water! Man thinks, as long as he keeps going (the saying patience is a virtue drolled on in his head), the treasures can only get better. So he fights temptation, strangles it beyond its dying breath, and forgoes diamonds for something better; there’s always better. Tipping the balance, eradicating satisfaction end in crumbled hopes and clumps of dirt, which lay in wait for him at the end.
If she had the chance, Lu would never pass up tangibility for some abstract possibility in the clouds, in the fog. It’s given her good times, perhaps not excellent but good enough for her. So she gave hurried thanks, snatched the cardboard and didn’t bother to tie up the stack with pink plastic string, stumbling with her cart down down down.
And there she stands, in all her ghastly atrociousness, one hand on a leaning Pisa-tower of cardboard, one hand on her hip, smirking at Lu. The devil in plastic quilted jacket! Lu tsks and slinks off to queue for any remaining scraps.
“If it isn’t Lu po-po!”
“If it isn’t Chan jie,” she wishes.
“Got some more hours of sleep today, did you?”
“That must mean I look particularly good today then. You should try it, more sleep I mean. It’s not good to wear yourself out,” Lu entertains her. The alternative, staring at the dizzying traffic in the streets, isn’t a strong contender.
Finally it’s her turn and as she predicts, there isn’t much cardboard left. Well, bit by bit is how the pile grows. And now she’s determined, out of spite, to gather at least more than Chan jie; it won’t do to just submit to her gloating, no it won’t. The shadows tower over her; it must still be early morning. They cast down on metal garage doors, which sever them into wavering static, a little to the left or the right. Lu turns the corner onto Tai Nan street. Leather stench hits her without warning, recognizing her veteran status. Leather may be pretty but it sure doesn’t agree with the heat; at this rate it’ll taste worse than a piece of that over-boiled beef shoulder she had the displeasure of chewing at Fat Man Chou’s. She sees the signs hovering above, this company and that – Tong-De, Mian-Fong, they all sound the same to her – extending past where they’re welcome; they look like news headlines framing her. Imagine that! Her, smack in the middle of Headline Daily’s front page, still with the flowing black hair she oiled up and massaged every night in the dark, twirling around in that yellow sundress, some hot new celebrity on her arm. And the reporters, they’ll crowd in droves, “Lady Lu, look here!”, “No, here! Tell us, who are you wearing?” And she’ll say proudly, spine straight-up, “My mamma made it,” teeth all gleaming in the flash, white and pearly still…
It doesn’t have to be that; she’s never been a fame chaser. She could also join the other side and don a pair of glasses, notepad in hand, expose the corruption in glass towers and the seedy underbelly gorged with triad legends. A glimpse of a tattooed arm or the lack of an arm (for if you betrayed them, their infamous meat cleaver would kiss the outer skin, then force its way into the sinews, a brandishing of tough love) would spark rumors. It is in their nature that rumors exaggerate, but this time Lu isn’t so sure; the Triad’s name precedes them; there must be a reason. Aside from their chopping prowess, they apparently also had the magical ability to induce amnesia, like wizards! Lu’s seen on the news one day that all five eyewitnesses who were supposed to testify against a Triad leader suddenly succumbed to memory loss; at least with memory you’re more likely to get that back, as opposed to an arm. Well, those are all old dreams; she reminds herself to not get lost in the once-upon-a-times. One thing comes and one thing goes: even though she does live near the dark side now, her youth has dissolved like the black pigment in her hair. She’s much too concerned about getting by day to day to get into any of that.
To make up for her overactive imagination, Lu’s developed a skill to absentmindedly pick up cardboard like a drug-sniffing dog. Her tendons take over, and she lets them; she can do it blindfolded even. It’s a skill as worthy of admiration as, say, sprinting a one-hundred-meter dash. Come on, let’s see that Usain Bolt haul these stacks! (She’s impressed herself with her outstanding memory; apparently hearing the name once on the news, in passing too, is enough!)
Lu sifts through her latest cardboard conquests tugging at the hastily-tied strings. Her trusty pen-knife is always within reach in her pocket, which she checks daily to make sure there are no holes. First she slices the cardboard down with the precision of a butcher; corrugated wrinkles smiling at her. Then, using her fists, she pounds down to flatten them, stay there now don’t you move, she warned. The cardboard defers to her at once. Once they were spectacular too; this box once carried Korean strawberries in its arms, sailing across more seas than she’s seen; and this one? parts of a Philips lamp; then, cram school workbooks. Whatever was in them has gone on to live, not necessarily better lives, but living nonetheless.
Not before long though, her cart starts to wobble more than the stacks can take. They’re threatening to tip over at any minute now, so taking them to a nearby recycling depot is the best course of action, Lu decides. She’s saving up for a new cart, one of them fancy ones with a bell so she wouldn’t have to clear her throat to scrape out any hoarseness, and yell with a voice unexpected of such a short woman, “Excuse me please! Let me through for a second, thank you!” It’s tough to compete with caged canaries squawking, cars honking, and market-people squabbling. Plus, the cart has four functional wheels. She’ll have to get used to that.
Hearing the desperate bargaining at the bigger recycling depots, truckloads of’em, she can’t help but chuckle. She’s been in the game for so long, she knows all the neighborhood secrets. She knows that if you cut across the big parking lot, as swift as a mother cutting watermelon for her screaming children in the peak of summer, because at any time there can be a car jumpscaring the living spirit out of you, you can find, squeezed between an electronics store and a shoe store, a little-known depot. A kind old couple runs this place, complete with decrepit green-tinted walls and a permanently sticky floor; god knows how they’ve kept this place afloat. They are always generous with their weighing: if Lu’s cardboard weighed at seven point eight kilograms, Mr. Lam would wave it off and round up to eight. It makes a world of difference, five cents worth. The big depots would cheat ya and say “Oh it’s tattered, it’s no good…” isn’t it all the same recycled! Another thing they don’t have: Mrs. Lam’s various holiday dishes that she shoves in Lu’s hands because she already knows the ol’ song and dance of “Aiya, no, Lam tai-tai, you’re too kind…are you sure? Really are you sure?” Here Lu must cut in and say, before you think she’s selfish for not sharing this info with her fellow collectors, it’s every woman for herself in this line of work, it ain’t fair but ho-ho what part about any of this is?
This other trick she’s also acquired by way of close observation, not trade talk; at first she only attributed their early hustling to diligence, but soon she realized that Hong Kong humidity had its perks. In the morning, air – in the form of wet particles – gushes into her nostrils, sinks its melting claws in the unwilling cardboard, burdening it with added weight. While this exchange is going on, with hawk-like eyes, Lu swoops in and captures the heavy cardboard, heavy with promise of a few cents more.
“Altogether…twenty-nine kilograms. There you go!”
Ey, not bad. But still she inquires, careful to celebrate, “How much?” Prices fluctuate at the drop of a hat; now whose hat? big Boss up north, of course.
“Seven cents per kilo, just like last week,” Mr. Lam beamed. This plus some fruit money is just enough to live on; and every day at Mr. Lam’s recycling depot, the fate of the week has been decided: a good week or a bad week, all depending on whether there will be enough room in the budget for an extra helping of sausage. She pats herself on the back; she’s done a mighty good job today.
Off she goes, off to Apliu Street, the thieves’ market, plucking the broken electronic components out, before snatching away all the cardboard before anyone else even laid their eyes on it. She gallops with the feet of a horse and hauls with the belly of a supernatural spirit. That’s the norm though; it’s a hidden prerequisite to become a collector. Competition is fierce for a Tuesday, but it’s all about winning the long race, the war over mere battles. So when she feels sweat beads roll down to her eyes, which blink angrily at the salty intrusion, she decides perhaps it’s time for a sit-down.
There it is – her bench, glistening gray-green with glassy paint-like splotches on it, and all hers for the whole lunch break. In her pink velcro-stick bag hanging on the side of her cart she has tucked away a neatly-wrapped Seven-Eleven pork-floss onigiri. She savors every taste of that, no matter that it is cold and nothing like the homemade ones, certified Jiangsu authentic, and oh she imagines the smell leads her up to gilded temples, to yellowed wheat fields, wherever it would go, she shall follow… Amongst all the chewing, suddenly her tongue goes numb, eerily tasteless, more than before at least. The culprit: a plastic bit stuck in the rice. She never knew how to open these goddamned plastic wrapping, step one, step two, ah just rip it apart and be done with it! Maybe when she first came to the city – she admits, she treasured the way each strip would glide down its destined pathway, the instructions, like they knew the answers and if you just follow the steps, you’ll get there, they assured. Like hell they do. They’re just better at slapping the horses’ butts, then climbing up the social ladder with those same dirty hands; that’s not even to mention the ones already at the top, sitting there on human thrones.
Lu swears, next time – and this time it will be different – she’ll make herself a packed lunch instead of this convenience store junk. A strange feeling, to scold herself the same way she would to… no one in particular, any picky brat. It is at times like these when she feels so close to Sleep that she’d be grateful for the ever-present noise in the streets; now are those pots and pans she hears? Ah, Sleep would be so motherly and kind and She’d embrace her; hard to fight that and gravity off; her eyelids kept drooping. Being good at waking up on time every day means the biggest yawns, impossibly big; she could swallow her throat whole and suck out all the air around. But the shouts – she makes out signs as well so perhaps it’s from a protest – won’t let her doze off. That is good; it keeps her schedule in check.
Where to next? Her legs march to the beat of Sham Shui Po’s thumping heart; as her feet slap down onto solid ground, she imagines feeling the grainy texture of Poplar Street through her worn soles. Like a meticulously trained doctor whose finger presses down at the exact spot to find a pulse, without hesitant circling indicating trial and error, Lu needs not to wait for the city to tell her what it needs. The alleys coiling around main streets, the telephone wires that drape lazily off apartment balconies, hell, even the fly-swatters spinning in dazed anger – they divulge secrets to her. This is a shortcut, they say. Look out! The vegetable vendor is hosing down the street again, they say. Perhaps the city’s roots have taken hold of her, boring inside to twist together with her veins. The city is a good ally to have on your side; who else has been around longer than these stoic, silent observers? They lend a different sort of comfort than people, something more stable. Concrete is by far a stabler material than flesh.
As soon as Lu steps onto the zebra crossing, the red guy bumps out the green, and she is forced to take a step backwards. These motorcycles are ruthless; it’s hard to imagine a time when roads were for people and vehicles were relegated to the tracks. From the front, kicked-up dust from zooming cars veil her vision; from the sides, pedestrians wedge themselves beside her. Among them is a tour guide with uncountable orange ducklings following him by way of microphone-enhanced instructions and a muscle-shirt-clad gym rat whose armpits cast two droopy damp shadows. And his logic is to use something even stronger to cover up all that sweat. If there ever are more cockroaches in her room than she can thwack, it’ll be a good idea to invite him over; not even the roaches’ll dare approach this! She will never and can never forget the toxic fumes of that odorous body spray weaseling their way into the seams of her gangster Mickey Mouse shirt (actually, it’s spelled ‘Mikeye Mouse’ for copyright reasons). Bought it half off at the wet market; she supposes this manly body spray does fit the whole gold-chain aesthetic better than its original fish stink.
Although this busy bustle is transpiring all around, Lu feels calm at this intersection. Time stands still for her, but not for everybody else; they’re still hurrying to catch this bus, scurrying for work. Soon she will join them, once this red light turns green. For now though, the red light absolves her of the guilt that always comes with rest; it feels like the Lord has cupped a bubble around her to protect her from ever-marching Time. She watches them through glassy eyes, detached, in her own world, with her own set of rules. Queen Lu! her subjects would hail, donning the poofiest scruff-collars, scattered daisies on a meadow. As Queen, the first law she shall invoke? Free mandatory massage and needling for every citizen! Every week!
Blink, and it’s green. So starts the countdown. At the end of this countdown the bomb doesn’t go off, but the impatient motorcycles sure will. Hand gripping her cart, Lu tries to cross the road, and she could’ve, if only these bastards would stop their squeezing and give poor old Lu a fighting chance! Her cart has become a burden, getting stuck between indistinguishable skinny-jeanned legs. It’s twenty fourteen; shouldn’t they have invented flying cars by now? and by extension, flying carts? Oh the view she’ll have, sweeping over the blocky districts, dwindling dots still scrambling about, but that’ll be of no concern to her, not anymore… But enough fantasies! she clears her throat. She’s a woman on a mission; survival is her impetus. She yanked her cart, bouncing between legs, and it’s working, she’s moving ahead! Apparently not fast enough, red overtakes her. In her rush – everything whizzing by in streaks of light, a cacophony of roaring motors – the light sedates her with a poisonous intention, and this dizzying hum that vibrates in her brain transfixes her in one spot. As her mind constrains her muscles to follow the zebra stripes, also having to dodge the swerving bicycles, gravity becomes lighter, and floats up, her feet too – into the air – and she trips, having not quite yet mastered the art of walking on air. The curb grazes her lower leg, but she clambers up quick; she’s a resilient old woman (thanks to her long earlobes) – she always manages; and her foot steps onto the sidewalk before the first engine whir.
“Po-po, are you okay?” The voice rings clear and breaks her brief trance. A smooth pale hand sticks stiff out – whoever it is must not have worked a day in their life.
“That’s okay, no need.” Grasping a more stable pole instead, she thanks the young man anyway and prepares to get going. But he is so terribly insistent, and pushy; so are the pedestrians who cannot stand even a second’s time lent. He repeats, a glitching robot, “You must need some help pushing the cart;” hands waving anywhere but near it. Hasn’t he heard the nos that came before? So far all Lu sees is: more ‘help’; more mess. Swarms of busybees dodge them by a hair; if they didn’t, she wouldn’t blame them; they are blocking the sidewalk. They are the people she’d give side-eyes to, taking up the whole street and whatnot, hmph.
When the shadowed cloud descends and shields her from light’s prying piercing pupils, she hurriedly slips away into obscurity. What’s important right now is breaking out of this crowd, seeking space; perhaps under one of the rusty metal roofs? Lu feels like a general, commanding her cart-soldier to sniff out a possible pathway; this requires strategy, my friend; she’d direct the army to flank from both sides in a V shape, yes, a V shape like in Red Cliff. She rides on out on army horses.
Safe in isolation now, she leans against the ridged column. She’s glad it wasn’t a sprain: the initial sting would be momentary — she can stand that — but the dull throb that would accompany her every step: that she fears. You can’t shake that off; it’s a stubborn leech. Still, better that than forced kindness. The two types that exist in this man-eat-man world: forced and malicious. The former, borne out of guilt whose stains of repugnance can’t be done away, no matter how many spins, topsy-turvy perspective shifts you give it. One look at the eyes, avoidant and seeded with pity, and she knows. The latter drapes a cotton coat over her shoulders; as it rains, and it will, no amount of shaking can rid Lu of the increasing weight as the tension between each waterlogged particle in each thread of yarn drags her down. Your debt catches up with you; kindness racks up a high bill.
So she continues on her cardboard quest; she hates to leave things unfinished. Lu is the Tortoise, crawling slowly but surely, despite the chances of winning against the Hare initially seeming ghost-thin. And who is this Hare? Chan jie, for one, and those damned government inspectors too! The spirit of competition scratches her back, tingly with nerves alive; the sidewalk suddenly feels like a moving walkway, and she bursts forwards, always forwards.
2023.04.02 14:43 Ok_Advertising_878 I can't figure out NTs from NDs
Now I just got tested for autism and I'm waiting on the results but pretty much every professional has suggested I might have autism.
However where the problem begins is that... Y'know how NTs can figure out a ND within like 5 minutes??? I always see ppl who claim to have autism (I'm not saying they don't I just don't know if they're professionally diagnosed or not) constantly point out that someone might be autistic. Or that a character is autistic coded.
When I have very clear "hey that sounds like autism!" I can usually read that character as autistic coded. For instance, tighnari from genshin impact hates loud noises, isn't fond of touch, speaks very monotonely, and LOVES learning abt mushrooms and other flora and fauna. That sounds like textbook autism right?? Meanwhile my bf who recently found out he was diagnosed with autism.... I didn't know. Like at all. Like in the slightest. Like not even a little bit. I honestly doubted he even had ADHD and I've been with him for 3 years now.
Its so frustrating because think abt it like this. If someone ignores you, won't look at you when you talk, only wants to talk abt what they're interested in, it seems rude and like they're uninterested in you. But then when they go "heh btw I'm autistic" and then it's like!!! Oh that makes sense!!!! Ur okay I get it!! You literally can't control it. It's like fine y'know. I'm not mad at them.
Now my problem mostly comes from the fact I wish I built with a ND radar y'know. It seems like everyone else has it. Why can't I figure it out for the life of me y'know?? It would make things so much easier if I could figure out whether or not people didn't like me lol.
submitted by Ok_Advertising_878 to autism [link] [comments]
However where the problem begins is that... Y'know how NTs can figure out a ND within like 5 minutes??? I always see ppl who claim to have autism (I'm not saying they don't I just don't know if they're professionally diagnosed or not) constantly point out that someone might be autistic. Or that a character is autistic coded.
When I have very clear "hey that sounds like autism!" I can usually read that character as autistic coded. For instance, tighnari from genshin impact hates loud noises, isn't fond of touch, speaks very monotonely, and LOVES learning abt mushrooms and other flora and fauna. That sounds like textbook autism right?? Meanwhile my bf who recently found out he was diagnosed with autism.... I didn't know. Like at all. Like in the slightest. Like not even a little bit. I honestly doubted he even had ADHD and I've been with him for 3 years now.
Its so frustrating because think abt it like this. If someone ignores you, won't look at you when you talk, only wants to talk abt what they're interested in, it seems rude and like they're uninterested in you. But then when they go "heh btw I'm autistic" and then it's like!!! Oh that makes sense!!!! Ur okay I get it!! You literally can't control it. It's like fine y'know. I'm not mad at them.
Now my problem mostly comes from the fact I wish I built with a ND radar y'know. It seems like everyone else has it. Why can't I figure it out for the life of me y'know?? It would make things so much easier if I could figure out whether or not people didn't like me lol.
2023.04.02 14:24 patientpangolin Two Patron questions for Wednesday practice round
Hey all,
Will be at Augusta for the first time ever on Wednesday - am super pumped!!!
submitted by patientpangolin to masters [link] [comments]
Will be at Augusta for the first time ever on Wednesday - am super pumped!!!
- Wednesday means the Par 3 contest - but when the Par 3 contest starts, does the main course close to patrons? Have heard that the main course “re-opens” at ~4:30 after the par 3. Aren’t players not participating in Par 3 still out there practicing?
- Cameras are allowed on Wednesday. Is there a type of dslr or non-phone camera that is NOT allowed? I don’t plan on taking in a super nice one but want to be mindful of ones that make a loud clicking noise.
2023.04.02 14:20 Gutta_the_III [Exerpt: Shadowsun, the patient hunter] Shadownsun communes with the Goddess of the Tau’va
TLDR:
“ 'I know my Damocles Campaign,’ said Shadowsun, skimming data on her XV22's command-and-control suite. 'A risky manoeuvre, given the unpredictability of human tech. We must have faith in our course!’
Makendra Vella cocked her head. 'A strange choice of words, for one so secular'
'The true warrior makes weapons from everything in arm's reach.'
‘And that includes me, it seems.'
Shadowsun made the cupped hands of the grateful supplicant. 'I have a favour to ask, yes'
'But what if we do not wish to be used as tools, high commander?' continued the human. 'How many times do you need to be told?'
'I respect that you did not wish to accompany me on this mission, Makendra Vella,' said Shadowsun. 'All I ask of you is that you do that which you would likely do anyway. Just at a specific time'
'And that is?'
'Pray to your people's conception of the Greater Good at the exact chronopoint I am transmitting now. More than that, ensure that all who have the same faith pray at the same time, if you can'
'What do you understand of prayer?'
'Very little, I admit. But do this for me. It might make all the difference. For the Greater Good'
‘I have no small amount of influence in gue'vesa society,' said Makendra Vella, jutting out her jaw. 'I will see what can be done!'
'I believe in you. You will not be acting alone. I still have contacts across the system, and have relayed requests that the same be done in all those subcultures that adhere to the same creed'
At this, A'haia flashed a calming cyan ripple upon the walls. Ven Tah Regah linked her curving claws, a nicassar gesture of sisterhood that translated well into t'au. Even Opikh Tak gave a solemn nod; he had spoken to his fellow shapers in council earlier that very cycle.
'To what end are we praying?' said Makendra Vella.
'If there is truly power in faith, as the Imperials so fervently believe,' she said, 'then perhaps the gue'ron'sha who once shared their beliefs feel the same. Through ritual and belief, we can turn such conviction against our enemies. I would have you pray for them to defeat themselves.’
'Are you sure it will work, high commander?' said Oe-hei, his voice high and tremulous.
'No. Not by any means. In fact, it goes against my understanding of the cosmos. But given the circumstances...' She thought back to the algae bomb on Pekun, and the fact it had left the strange statue-temple entirely unaffected. 'I have come to believe it might make a difference “
Later in the book during the assault, the group is attacked by a bunch of daemonic maggots and flies:
“ Alerts flickered and flared all over her command hexes, one by one fading to charcoal black as her suit's systems were gummed up or overloaded by wriggling biological forms. The exception was the one showing Ven Tah Regah and A'haia. The aliens were chanting something, arms held out as if in benediction as Oe-hei kept them safe in his own shimmering bubble of force. Somehow, the Kindred Souls were keeping the creatures at bay. She increased the hex's audio, manually cutting out the maddening buzz of the daemon maggots.
Tau'va keep us, they were chanting. "Tau'va hear our prayer. T'au'va watch over us, T'au'va hear our prayer. T'au'va keep us...'
'What are they doing?' muttered Shadowsun. Her alien teammates were moving towards her, now, a bubble of clean air around them. Even Opikh Tak abandoned his kroot gun - its muzzle stuffed with wriggling maggot-things nesting in its warm barrel - to join the chant.
'T'au'va keep us, T'au'va hear our prayer. T'au'va watch over us, T'au'va hear our prayer...'
Miraculously, the flying maggot-things recoiled. Though they buzzed fiercely, they would not go near the trio as they chanted. Moving slowly, trusting to sheer faith that no bullets or bolts would reach them, the aliens walked closer and closer until that same strange dome of clean air moved over Shadowsun as well.
One by one her systems came back online as the vile maggot- things that had choked them fled from the slow, deliberate ing them. chant. Insane as it seemed, their faith in their chant was repulsing.
Perhaps, she thought, perhaps they have the right of things. Or at least have another piece of the great puzzle that we do not. And they have bought me time. “
In travel through the wormhole the Deathguard have a chance meeting, stopping their invasion of the septworlds:
“ Bridgeman Vauntos, he called out. 'This non-space we find ourselves in. Are we making progress through it?'
He had a vague notion that he had asked the question before, and that the query had hung in the air a little longer each time he had asked it.
'Technically', said the Death Guard steersman through a helmgrille framed by needle-sharp tusks. 'Technically, Lord Glurtosk, yes we are.'
He narrowed his eyes, picking up his scythe as his temper burned short. 'Perhaps you would care to elaborate?' He gestured at two bifurcated corpses scattered on the grille underfoot, their opened guts already beginning to rot. 'Or will you be joining Steersmen Vulpex and Obidiak in blissful retirement?'
'Our progress through this interstitial space is slowing, my lord. It is as if something is resisting us. Or holding us back. Much more loss of momentum, and we will find ourselves...' 'Don't say it, said Glurtosk. 'Don't say the word, Bridgeman. It blossomed like a corpse-flower in his mind nonetheless. Becalmed.
Glurtosk and his Legion had been lost in the empyrean some ten thousand years ago. It had driven them to the edge of madness, and into the arms of the foulest of all cosmic powers to dwell deep in the tides of emotion that formed the warp. To be back there, forced to endure the slow, entropic rot with nothing to show for it... For the Death Guard, it was far worse than to die in battle.
It was a nightmare made real, the worst of all possible fates. A broken shard of glass caught his eye. A section of Thurglaine's canister. On a hunch, he picked up the triangular, gently curving section of glassware and held it up, looking through it to the warp beyond.
There was something out there, in the swirls. A vast entity, built like a t'au as much as a human, but with far too many arms. Some of those limbs appeared to have five fingers, others four digits, like the t'au, or the bird-like talons of the kroot. Some ended in ursine claws, or waving tendrils, much like those of the fungus-creature that had worked its spell on his bridge. Many of the hands held blades, but others cornucopias, quills, or patches of flickering light.
Where its face should be, it had nothing at all, just a blank cliff of pale flesh.
'What are you?' said Glurtosk.
A phrase resolved in the turmoil of his mind, like a torpedo coming into terrible focus on a submarine's viewslate.
'I am the goddess T'au'va.'
'No!' shouted Glurtosk. 'These t'au are godless!'
'But their allies are not.'
The entity loomed in close, talons each the length of a strike cruiser closing around the Nephylum. Holding it still as a fly in aspic, and keeping it there.
Lord Glurtosk dropped the shard of glass and screamed until his mind came apart. “
I would like to dedicate this next excerpt to all the haters who thought the Greater Good warp entity was a Tzeentch Daemon. Amen.
Here Shadowsun is dreaming and has a flashback to her days under the tutelage of Puretide, whilst she was in critical condition. During this dream she receives a visitor that cured the plagues that had previously infected her:
“The caves were full, now, the meltwater river's wrath at its height. She was several days' travel from the exit, and already her lungs were burning. There would be no reprieve.
Blackness came for her.
But within it, there was light.
A translucent figure with far too many arms, somehow immune to the battering ice water, drifting as calm as a Dal'ythan jellyfish. In its profusion of arms it held objects, amongst them blades, shells, an amphora, a buckler shield. It swam close, its unsettling, blank mask of a face somehow staying inches from hers even as the deadly river pushed her ever on through the darkness.
'No... What are you?' Her thoughts were so loud she swore she could hear them.
The entity raised its amphora, silvery bubbles drifting from the neck, and let her take a long draught. Not water, but air, blissful and life-giving. Greedy as a newborn, she filled her lungs.
'I am the communality of species,’ it said. Its voice was calming, like that of a mother, whilst somehow carrying an edge of threat. 'I am destiny.'
'You are a ghost, Shadowsun replied. 'Nothing more.
'Set against the cosmos, I am nothing, it is true, the apparition replied. "Though even a seed cast to the wind can flourish. If you will let me, child of hope.
They passed a darker patch of nothingness. A moment later, the waters became calmer, less insistent. She could see the glow of the cave-worms once more, their glimmer showing the strange, diaphanous spirit before her in disturbing detail.
'How can I repay you?' she managed.
'I simply wish to exist, child,’ it said. “
In conclusion, it’s a good book. Better than most of the other T’au books (Except Broken Sword obv) I would recommend reading it. Though Phil Kellys’ portrayal of the Ethereals continues to be subpar, I would say it’s the best here. If only because the Ethereals only appear in two scenes.
submitted by Gutta_the_III to 40kLore [link] [comments]
- The greater good warp entity exists and is not a chaos being
- The greater good warp entity is female
- Shadownsun talks to the Goddess, having used its worship to effectively fight chaos
- The Goddess rescues Shadownsun, á la Dante
- The Goddess appears aware, more like Vashtorr than the four, being able to directly communicate with mortals.
- The Goddess destroyed a Chaos fleet in the warp/wormhole
- This is not a April fools joke btw
- gue'ron'sha means space marine
“ 'I know my Damocles Campaign,’ said Shadowsun, skimming data on her XV22's command-and-control suite. 'A risky manoeuvre, given the unpredictability of human tech. We must have faith in our course!’
Makendra Vella cocked her head. 'A strange choice of words, for one so secular'
'The true warrior makes weapons from everything in arm's reach.'
‘And that includes me, it seems.'
Shadowsun made the cupped hands of the grateful supplicant. 'I have a favour to ask, yes'
'But what if we do not wish to be used as tools, high commander?' continued the human. 'How many times do you need to be told?'
'I respect that you did not wish to accompany me on this mission, Makendra Vella,' said Shadowsun. 'All I ask of you is that you do that which you would likely do anyway. Just at a specific time'
'And that is?'
'Pray to your people's conception of the Greater Good at the exact chronopoint I am transmitting now. More than that, ensure that all who have the same faith pray at the same time, if you can'
'What do you understand of prayer?'
'Very little, I admit. But do this for me. It might make all the difference. For the Greater Good'
‘I have no small amount of influence in gue'vesa society,' said Makendra Vella, jutting out her jaw. 'I will see what can be done!'
'I believe in you. You will not be acting alone. I still have contacts across the system, and have relayed requests that the same be done in all those subcultures that adhere to the same creed'
At this, A'haia flashed a calming cyan ripple upon the walls. Ven Tah Regah linked her curving claws, a nicassar gesture of sisterhood that translated well into t'au. Even Opikh Tak gave a solemn nod; he had spoken to his fellow shapers in council earlier that very cycle.
'To what end are we praying?' said Makendra Vella.
'If there is truly power in faith, as the Imperials so fervently believe,' she said, 'then perhaps the gue'ron'sha who once shared their beliefs feel the same. Through ritual and belief, we can turn such conviction against our enemies. I would have you pray for them to defeat themselves.’
'Are you sure it will work, high commander?' said Oe-hei, his voice high and tremulous.
'No. Not by any means. In fact, it goes against my understanding of the cosmos. But given the circumstances...' She thought back to the algae bomb on Pekun, and the fact it had left the strange statue-temple entirely unaffected. 'I have come to believe it might make a difference “
Later in the book during the assault, the group is attacked by a bunch of daemonic maggots and flies:
“ Alerts flickered and flared all over her command hexes, one by one fading to charcoal black as her suit's systems were gummed up or overloaded by wriggling biological forms. The exception was the one showing Ven Tah Regah and A'haia. The aliens were chanting something, arms held out as if in benediction as Oe-hei kept them safe in his own shimmering bubble of force. Somehow, the Kindred Souls were keeping the creatures at bay. She increased the hex's audio, manually cutting out the maddening buzz of the daemon maggots.
Tau'va keep us, they were chanting. "Tau'va hear our prayer. T'au'va watch over us, T'au'va hear our prayer. T'au'va keep us...'
'What are they doing?' muttered Shadowsun. Her alien teammates were moving towards her, now, a bubble of clean air around them. Even Opikh Tak abandoned his kroot gun - its muzzle stuffed with wriggling maggot-things nesting in its warm barrel - to join the chant.
'T'au'va keep us, T'au'va hear our prayer. T'au'va watch over us, T'au'va hear our prayer...'
Miraculously, the flying maggot-things recoiled. Though they buzzed fiercely, they would not go near the trio as they chanted. Moving slowly, trusting to sheer faith that no bullets or bolts would reach them, the aliens walked closer and closer until that same strange dome of clean air moved over Shadowsun as well.
One by one her systems came back online as the vile maggot- things that had choked them fled from the slow, deliberate ing them. chant. Insane as it seemed, their faith in their chant was repulsing.
Perhaps, she thought, perhaps they have the right of things. Or at least have another piece of the great puzzle that we do not. And they have bought me time. “
In travel through the wormhole the Deathguard have a chance meeting, stopping their invasion of the septworlds:
“ Bridgeman Vauntos, he called out. 'This non-space we find ourselves in. Are we making progress through it?'
He had a vague notion that he had asked the question before, and that the query had hung in the air a little longer each time he had asked it.
'Technically', said the Death Guard steersman through a helmgrille framed by needle-sharp tusks. 'Technically, Lord Glurtosk, yes we are.'
He narrowed his eyes, picking up his scythe as his temper burned short. 'Perhaps you would care to elaborate?' He gestured at two bifurcated corpses scattered on the grille underfoot, their opened guts already beginning to rot. 'Or will you be joining Steersmen Vulpex and Obidiak in blissful retirement?'
'Our progress through this interstitial space is slowing, my lord. It is as if something is resisting us. Or holding us back. Much more loss of momentum, and we will find ourselves...' 'Don't say it, said Glurtosk. 'Don't say the word, Bridgeman. It blossomed like a corpse-flower in his mind nonetheless. Becalmed.
Glurtosk and his Legion had been lost in the empyrean some ten thousand years ago. It had driven them to the edge of madness, and into the arms of the foulest of all cosmic powers to dwell deep in the tides of emotion that formed the warp. To be back there, forced to endure the slow, entropic rot with nothing to show for it... For the Death Guard, it was far worse than to die in battle.
It was a nightmare made real, the worst of all possible fates. A broken shard of glass caught his eye. A section of Thurglaine's canister. On a hunch, he picked up the triangular, gently curving section of glassware and held it up, looking through it to the warp beyond.
There was something out there, in the swirls. A vast entity, built like a t'au as much as a human, but with far too many arms. Some of those limbs appeared to have five fingers, others four digits, like the t'au, or the bird-like talons of the kroot. Some ended in ursine claws, or waving tendrils, much like those of the fungus-creature that had worked its spell on his bridge. Many of the hands held blades, but others cornucopias, quills, or patches of flickering light.
Where its face should be, it had nothing at all, just a blank cliff of pale flesh.
'What are you?' said Glurtosk.
A phrase resolved in the turmoil of his mind, like a torpedo coming into terrible focus on a submarine's viewslate.
'I am the goddess T'au'va.'
'No!' shouted Glurtosk. 'These t'au are godless!'
'But their allies are not.'
The entity loomed in close, talons each the length of a strike cruiser closing around the Nephylum. Holding it still as a fly in aspic, and keeping it there.
Lord Glurtosk dropped the shard of glass and screamed until his mind came apart. “
I would like to dedicate this next excerpt to all the haters who thought the Greater Good warp entity was a Tzeentch Daemon. Amen.
Here Shadowsun is dreaming and has a flashback to her days under the tutelage of Puretide, whilst she was in critical condition. During this dream she receives a visitor that cured the plagues that had previously infected her:
“The caves were full, now, the meltwater river's wrath at its height. She was several days' travel from the exit, and already her lungs were burning. There would be no reprieve.
Blackness came for her.
But within it, there was light.
A translucent figure with far too many arms, somehow immune to the battering ice water, drifting as calm as a Dal'ythan jellyfish. In its profusion of arms it held objects, amongst them blades, shells, an amphora, a buckler shield. It swam close, its unsettling, blank mask of a face somehow staying inches from hers even as the deadly river pushed her ever on through the darkness.
'No... What are you?' Her thoughts were so loud she swore she could hear them.
The entity raised its amphora, silvery bubbles drifting from the neck, and let her take a long draught. Not water, but air, blissful and life-giving. Greedy as a newborn, she filled her lungs.
'I am the communality of species,’ it said. Its voice was calming, like that of a mother, whilst somehow carrying an edge of threat. 'I am destiny.'
'You are a ghost, Shadowsun replied. 'Nothing more.
'Set against the cosmos, I am nothing, it is true, the apparition replied. "Though even a seed cast to the wind can flourish. If you will let me, child of hope.
They passed a darker patch of nothingness. A moment later, the waters became calmer, less insistent. She could see the glow of the cave-worms once more, their glimmer showing the strange, diaphanous spirit before her in disturbing detail.
'How can I repay you?' she managed.
'I simply wish to exist, child,’ it said. “
In conclusion, it’s a good book. Better than most of the other T’au books (Except Broken Sword obv) I would recommend reading it. Though Phil Kellys’ portrayal of the Ethereals continues to be subpar, I would say it’s the best here. If only because the Ethereals only appear in two scenes.
2023.04.02 14:19 Jatelei DIY distortion pedal with siren noise
 | Ok so ive ask this in a couple places and still haven't found a convincing answer. Im quite desperate to fix these because the siren noise which my DIY distortion pedal produces ruins the pedal a bit, its really anoying. Its a simple pedal with 2 distortion stages. submitted by Jatelei to diypedals [link] [comments] For now the things I know are that: the circuit in the circuit simulator works perfectly, I use Falstad. the pedal seems to have some grounding issues because when touching the plastic that covers it a buzzing appears, which gets amplified by the distortion so probably the input jack is badly ironed. the siren noise doesn't get distorted apparently by the distortion stages but it gets amplified in volume. My guesses are that around the distortion stages the Op amp chip I'm using is making an oscillator somehow with the capacitor which is right before the output jack. I don't know at all how to fix these, right now my only guess is that it could be a suply issue, but I don't know how to fix that, I know I use a single suply. Also I thought of making an oscillator with another chip with the exact frequency of the siren and substract it before the distortion stages, which would fix it but it would have some issues too, and I've discovered that the siren doesn't have a constant pitch. This is the complete circuit, the upper part divides the 9 volts of the suply into an extra 4.5 rail, which acts like ground. |
2023.04.02 13:23 KingVoss My lower back (spasm to be exact) is not healing after 6 months.
Greetings Everyone, I am 24M. I had no back related issue till now. But last year , I was standing on my table , suddenly tables left leg broke . So my back titled diagonally along with it like " / " ( suddenly) . I didn't feel anything at that moment. But after 6/7 hours , I felt it's difficult for me to sit. 2/3 days after the incident, every morning after getting up from bed, it was difficult for me to bend forward but if I walk 10/15 minutes ,it goes away . I can bend any direction I want without pain. The only problem I felt is that , I was unable to jump. Jumping causing some kind of shock/spasm in my lower back horizontally (waistline). If I want to run I got same types of shock /spasm/pain (I don't know what it is ).
Fast forwarding 2/3 months. It healed mostly. I can bend , walk. So I have tried running , I feeling mild shock /pain at the beginning but it goes away after running 5 minutes. The problem is next morning I have found out that my lower back difficulties alive again as before. So I have taken rest and such.
Fast forwarding 4 moure months, I have healed almost completely, but not completely. The symptoms I am facing is every morning or after lying in my bed for few hours ,, when I get up , if I want to bend I can bend not feeling any pain . But the problem is , I feeling some kind of pressure in my lower back, but goes away after bending 2/3 times.
But whenever I am lying on the for long time say 1 hour or something, I feel the same pressure during bending.Afterfew moments it goes away completely..
And this is happening constantly. One thing I have found out whenever I try to get up on my right side , I feel tick noise (not loud but faint) at the right side of my lower back. And it makes me feel better. (Afterwards I can bend with less pressure like almost normal). Otherwise I feel slight pressure during bending afterwards. But it goes away within 5 minutes. The more I move I feel more better
I can walk comfortably ( no issues )
I can jump now like from 1/2 stairs. I don't feel that shock. I can run with very slow pacing. Haven't tried faster running or jumping high. But I have felt small pressure on my lower back. So didn't try that due to the fear of making it worse .
Long story sort , I think something is wrong with right lower back side . ( It is side which got the sudden shock mostly during my table incident back September).
It's taking to long too heal with such small injury
I was like this on my table . After the incident my position had become like this . / . Left leg straight and right leg is compressed. So my lower back tilted like that / .
Any suggestions for complete healing? I can't afford to visit doc right now.
submitted by KingVoss to backpain [link] [comments]
Fast forwarding 2/3 months. It healed mostly. I can bend , walk. So I have tried running , I feeling mild shock /pain at the beginning but it goes away after running 5 minutes. The problem is next morning I have found out that my lower back difficulties alive again as before. So I have taken rest and such.
Fast forwarding 4 moure months, I have healed almost completely, but not completely. The symptoms I am facing is every morning or after lying in my bed for few hours ,, when I get up , if I want to bend I can bend not feeling any pain . But the problem is , I feeling some kind of pressure in my lower back, but goes away after bending 2/3 times.
But whenever I am lying on the for long time say 1 hour or something, I feel the same pressure during bending.Afterfew moments it goes away completely..
And this is happening constantly. One thing I have found out whenever I try to get up on my right side , I feel tick noise (not loud but faint) at the right side of my lower back. And it makes me feel better. (Afterwards I can bend with less pressure like almost normal). Otherwise I feel slight pressure during bending afterwards. But it goes away within 5 minutes. The more I move I feel more better
I can walk comfortably ( no issues )
I can jump now like from 1/2 stairs. I don't feel that shock. I can run with very slow pacing. Haven't tried faster running or jumping high. But I have felt small pressure on my lower back. So didn't try that due to the fear of making it worse .
Long story sort , I think something is wrong with right lower back side . ( It is side which got the sudden shock mostly during my table incident back September).
It's taking to long too heal with such small injury
I was like this on my table . After the incident my position had become like this . / . Left leg straight and right leg is compressed. So my lower back tilted like that / .
Any suggestions for complete healing? I can't afford to visit doc right now.
2023.04.02 12:58 Alone-Earth-5591 Would it be mean of me to leave early for my parents house?
A little context: i, 18 F, live with my bf, 20 M of 1.5 years. I love him to bits, and we have a very good relationship. The only reoccurring problems that we have, is that he is a gamer and likes to stay up late to “unwind”, especially on the weekends. I have told him many times that going to bed together is really important to me, as i don’t like sleeping alone, and am a big fan of cuddling and physical contact before bed. In addition, his gaming is LOUD, even when he tries his best to be quiet. In general, i don’t have a problem with him making noise at daytime, but when im trying to sleep it’s no better than having to listen to a faucet drip all night; it drives me insane and sometimes even makes me irrationally angry when im really tired. And last but not least, the most infuriating part; when he is up all night like this, he has a habit of sleeping until the next evening, which drives me nuts. He sleeps away the entire day, we don’t eat together, don’t hang out, and when i start getting ready for bed again, he gets up to do the entire thing over again. And in the case that he games all night on a weekday, he gets so overtired and groggy the next day, and takes a long nap after work, which is basically the same to me.
Normally, i go to my parents place for the weekend, and that way the excessive weekend-gaming of his is only slightly annoying, as i can’t communicate with him at all. But this particular weekend, i stayed at our place, since i have the week after off for easter. Thus, my plan was to stay the weekend to spend some time with him, and then leave late on Monday.
Yesterday was Saturday, and he did everything but hang out with me. He got up at around 2 in the afternoon, and was stuck to his screen ever since. He occasionally “visited” me in the bedroom to give me a kiss, but stayed glued to the screen. At some point he must have sensed that i was annoyed, and brought me some ice cream, and promised a movie night for the next day. At around 11 pm, i went to bed, honestly to pissed to say good night, but i kept it to myself. I woke up several times to his keyboard noises or him talking loudly in some discord chat. At some point i asked him to keep it down, which didn’t help. At around 2 am, i simply went to get some earplugs, since i was getting really tired and honestly kind of mad. At around 4 am i woke up to him coming to bed, but even now he wasn’t sleeping, but watching anime on a brightly lit screen. This obviously didn’t help with neither my tiredness, nor the fact that i was quite pissed.
He went to sleep at around 5:30, and so did i, as this was the first time he had turned his fucking screen off.
Now it is Sunday morning, and this is the part i need advice on. Im still pretty pissed, and am contemplating on just leaving for my parents place a day early, obviously without waking him. I know he promised me a movie night, but tbh i don’t even know if he would be awake by the time i want to go to bed again, and after the movie he would probably just go back to his game again.
So, do i just leave now and wait for him to notice? Or maybe stay here instead and make breakfast and stuff, and just hope he is better today?
submitted by Alone-Earth-5591 to Advice [link] [comments]
Normally, i go to my parents place for the weekend, and that way the excessive weekend-gaming of his is only slightly annoying, as i can’t communicate with him at all. But this particular weekend, i stayed at our place, since i have the week after off for easter. Thus, my plan was to stay the weekend to spend some time with him, and then leave late on Monday.
Yesterday was Saturday, and he did everything but hang out with me. He got up at around 2 in the afternoon, and was stuck to his screen ever since. He occasionally “visited” me in the bedroom to give me a kiss, but stayed glued to the screen. At some point he must have sensed that i was annoyed, and brought me some ice cream, and promised a movie night for the next day. At around 11 pm, i went to bed, honestly to pissed to say good night, but i kept it to myself. I woke up several times to his keyboard noises or him talking loudly in some discord chat. At some point i asked him to keep it down, which didn’t help. At around 2 am, i simply went to get some earplugs, since i was getting really tired and honestly kind of mad. At around 4 am i woke up to him coming to bed, but even now he wasn’t sleeping, but watching anime on a brightly lit screen. This obviously didn’t help with neither my tiredness, nor the fact that i was quite pissed.
He went to sleep at around 5:30, and so did i, as this was the first time he had turned his fucking screen off.
Now it is Sunday morning, and this is the part i need advice on. Im still pretty pissed, and am contemplating on just leaving for my parents place a day early, obviously without waking him. I know he promised me a movie night, but tbh i don’t even know if he would be awake by the time i want to go to bed again, and after the movie he would probably just go back to his game again.
So, do i just leave now and wait for him to notice? Or maybe stay here instead and make breakfast and stuff, and just hope he is better today?
2023.04.02 12:45 rafaelwm1982 JI Kang’s “Leave Confucianism for Nature” (嵇康)
JI Kang (嵇康, 223–262), a famous figure in literature and music during the era of Three Kingdoms, was born in Qiao County (谯县), present-day Su-zhou of An-hui Province (安徽宿州). He refused all official appointments after SI-MA family replaced CAO family in Wei Kingdom to express his political persistence. Celebrated as one of the “Seven Sages of Bamboo Forest” (竹林七贤), he and his wise friends often haunted a bamboo forest in Shan-yang County (山阳), present Hui County of Henan Province (河南辉县), and together impugned Confucianism and criticized the SI-MA government. Because of his unorthodox free lifestyle and fiery attacks on Confucianism and the new authority, he was eventually beheaded by SI-MA Zhao (司马昭, 211–265), the founder of the West Jin Dynasty (西晋, 265–317).
While WANG Bi advocated “Confucianism Derives from Nature” (名教本于自 然), eager to prove the natural origin of Confucianism, JI Kang called for the abandonment of Confucianism, believing that it violated rather than followed the natural law. JI claimed that “It is human nature to enjoy peace over risk, and enjoy leisure over labor” (夫民之性, 好安而恶危, 好逸而恶劳), and that this innate instinct existed in people naturally, just as the mouth may distinguish sweet from bitter and the body may distinguish itch from pinch. At that time, a Confucian scholar named ZHANG Shu-liao (张叔辽) wrote an essay titled Natural Learning Tendency《自然好学论》, and elucidated the importance of Confucianism by stressing the human natural tendency toward learning. JI Kang contradicted him by saying,
[In primordial time, the great Dao was complete. Monarchs ruled not by ordinances, and people fought not for benefits. All things worked their own ways according to their natural attributes; all people led their own lives according to their pleasure principles, sleeping when sleepy, eating when hungry. Having no idea about perfect virtues, they certainly did not need to preach benevolence and righteousness or promote propriety and legality. (洪 荒之世, 大朴未亏。君无文于上, 民无竞于下。物全理顺, 莫不自得。饱则安寝, 饥则 求食。 怡然鼓腹, 不知为至德之世也。若此, 则安知仁义之端, 礼律之文)]
Furthermore, from the perspective of natural humanity and Daoism, JI Kang criticized Confucianism, believing that “True humanity is justified in its Inaction” (人之真性, 无为正当), just as “Birds do not flock to be trained, beasts do not pack to be penned” (鸟不聚以求驯, 兽不群而求畜). He claimed that while humanity refused exterior restraints, Confucianism was created just to restrain true humanity:
When sages were dead, and Great Dao was twisted, people then resorted to language to express themselves. Dividing all things by categorizing them, they disturbed plebeian hearts by preaching benevolence and righteousness, inspected their behaviors by establishing titles and hierarchies, and hallowed educational inculcation by promoting literacy and cultures. Consequently, Six Classics were contrived, Diverse Ideological Schools flourished; honors and offices were established, and people bustled and hustled for them unconsciously. Accordingly, as birds sneaked into hoarded grains, men of aspirations resigned themselves to secular pursuits; people of alcohol rather than people of letters were entitled to make sentences regarding life and death; people who learned the Six Classics were exempt from tilling and reaping. (及至人不存, 大道陵迟, 乃始作文墨, 以传其意; 区别群物, 使有类族; 造立仁义, 以婴其心; 制为名分, 以检其外; 劝学讲文, 以神其教。故六经纷错, 百家繁炽, 开荣利之途, 故奔骛而不觉。是以贪生之禽, 食园池之梁 菽; 求安之士, 乃诡志以从俗。操笔执觚, 足容苏息; 积学明经, 以代稼穑。)
However, this superficial tendency of civilization was, in JI’s idea, unnatural, because the Six Classics intended suppression and manipulation and distorted human will for rite and law, and benevolence and righteousness served to promote hierarchical hypocrisy rather than preserve human integrity. Based on this idea, JI Kang advised his contemporaries to “Transcend Confucianism for Nature” (越名教 而任自然), that is, to return to natural humanity by getting rid of the suppression and manipulation of Six Classics, the limitation of benevolence and righteousness, and the restraint of rite and law. In response to ZHANG’s statement that “As Six Classics are like the Sun, people ignorant of them remain in the dark” (六经为太 阳, 不学为长夜), JI Kang contradicted him,
[If we are wise enough to take Six Classics as wild weeds, regard benevolence and righteousness as smelly socks, we may then sneer at ancient books, sneeze at hypocritical courtesy, twitch in ceremonial panoply, and retch at talking Rite. Naturally, if we abandon them altogether and just follow natural order, there would always be a gap in our knowledge spectrum; however, Six Classics are not necessarily the Sun, people ignorant of them are not necessarily in the dark. As a saying goes, beggars smear not the repute of horse doctors. In the primordial age when written languages were nowhere to be found, people were easy without knowledge, happy without diligence, and then need not the lecture of Six Classics, and desire not benevolence and righteousness? (今若以六经为芜 秽, 以仁义为臭腐, 睹文籍则目瞧, 修揖让则变伛, 袭章服则转筋, 谭礼典则齿龋。于 是兼而弃之, 与万物为更始, 则吾子虽好学不倦, 犹将阙焉。则向之不学, 未必为长夜, 六经未必为太阳也。俗语曰: 乞儿不辱马医。若遇上古无文之治, 可不学而获安, 不 勤而得志, 则何求于六经, 何欲于仁义哉)]
JI Kang’s advice to “Transcend Confucianism for Nature” (越名教而任自然) actually originated from his famous essay Free Thyself《释私论》, where he claimed,
[For the virtuous, their hearts are not confined to traditional rights and wrongs, and their actions are not contrary to the Great Dao. Why do I say so? Those who are calm in vigor and empty in spirit are not arrogant or narcissistic; those who are simple in heart and open in mind are not tied to their desires. With no arrogance or narcissism in the heart, they are able to transcend Confucianism for nature; with their mind untied to their desires, they are able to distinguish good and bad reasonably. Exercising reason, they abide by the Great Dao; concurring with nature, they are unconfined to traditional values. Thus, the virtuous are mostly untraditional yet reasonable, and the unvirtuous are untruthful and against Dao. Why? Being untruthful and arrogant and stingy, is most evil of the unvirtuous; being simple and modest and untraditional, is most honest of the virtuous. Hence a Daoist would say, “If I care not my body, what is there to worry me?” Those that despise death will outdo those that dread death. In this light, the hearts of the sage are not confined by rules. Therefore, YI Yin staked his talents to assist Shang Dynasty, thus serving the people and earning personal fame; ZHOU Gong handled state affairs in Emperor’s behalf regardless of suspicion of usurpation, thus promoting civility by regent order; GUAN Zhong hid no truth from HUAN Gong of Qi and gained his respect by helping Qi lead the alliance. Are they doing these for selfish interests? GUAN Zhong said: “The virtuous act out Dao and forget themselves.” That’s the answer. The virtuous take benevolent actions without observing olden customs, make honest judgments without following traditional merits, and express reasonable opinions without conforming to orthodox ideas. Therefore, they care not virtues in pride, yet their virtues coincide with olden customs; they restrain not their hearts, yet their hearts meet traditional merits; they cared not rigid rules, yet their deeds achieve right ends. (夫称君子 者, 心无措乎是非, 而行不违乎道者也。何以言之?夫气静神虚者, 心不存于矜尚; 体亮 心达者, 情不系于所欲。矜尚不存乎心, 故能越名教而任自然; 情不系于所欲, 故能审 贵贱而通物情。物情顺通, 故大无违; 越名任心, 故是非无措也。是故, 言君子则以无 措为主, 以通物为美; 言小人则以匿情为非, 以违道为阙。何者?匿情矜吝, 小人之至 恶; 虚心无措, 君子之笃行也。是以大道言: “及吾无身, 吾又何患?”无以生为贵者, 是 贤于贵生也。由斯而言, 夫至人之用心, 固不存有措矣。是故伊尹不惜贤于殷汤, 故世 济而名显; 周旦不顾嫌而隐行, 故假摄而化隆; 夷吾不匿情于齐桓, 故国霸而主尊。其 用心岂为身而系乎私哉!故《管子》曰: “君子行道, 忘其为身。”斯言是矣!君子之行贤 也, 不察于有度而后行也; 任心无邪, 不议于善而后正也; 显情无措, 不论于是而后为 也。是故傲然忘贤, 而贤与度会; 忽然任心, 而心与善遇; 傥然无措, 而事与是俱也)]
In 261, SHAN Tao (山涛, 205–283), another of the “Seven Sages of Bamboo Forest”, recommended JI Kang to serve as personnel minister for SI-MA power; however, disgusted with SHAN’s political compromise and opportunism, JI Kang refused this office and even wrote a famous letter to discontinue his friendship with SHAN Tao, in which he listed seven “intolerable things” (不堪者) and two “improper things” (不可者) as his excuses:
[People have to abide by ethical requirements, and states have to run by legal stipulations; however, if I were to accept this appointment, there would be seven things intolerable and two things improper. Regarding things intolerable: firstly, I always wake up late, but would then be repetitively urged to wake up early; secondly, I enjoy playing the zither, singing a melody, fishing and hunting in the wild, but would then lose this freedom in the company of officials and runners; thirdly, I enjoy lying down in ease and dressing up at will, but would then have to be rigidly seated in the court until my legs get numb, and formally attired in front of superiors without daring to scratch an itch; fourthly, I hate to write socializing letters, but would then be swamped in many mundane affairs and official documents, not answering which would make me appear unritely and unrighteous, yet trying to answer which would only disgust me; fifthly, my dislike of offering condolence has incurred complaints from some people and slanders from others, and would then not likely keep me immune from blames in the future even though I might carefully compromise my will to popular customs; sixthly, I dislike dull people, but would then have to receive them at work and home, who would annoy me daily with loud noises, foul smells and nasty tricks; seventhly, I am impatient of routine business, but would then be burdened with official affairs and encumbered with mundane matters. Regarding things improper: firstly, my habitual criticism of King TANG of Shang and King WU of Zhou, and contempt of ZHOU Gong and Confucius, would then seem improper and incur public censure; secondly, my obstinacy in loathing evils and speaking frankly, would then seem improper, and my irascible temper might burst right away at the sight of injustice. (人伦有礼, 朝廷 有法, 有必不堪者七, 甚不可者二: 卧喜晚起, 而当关呼之不置, 一不堪也。抱琴行吟, 弋钓草野, 而吏卒守之, 不得妄动, 二不堪也。危坐一时, 痹不得摇, 性复多虱, 把搔无 已, 而当裹以章服, 揖拜上官, 三不堪也。素不便书, 又不喜作书, 而人间多事, 堆案盈 机, 不相酬答, 则犯教伤义, 欲自勉强, 则不能久, 四不堪也。不喜吊丧, 而人道以此为 重, 已为未见恕者所怨, 至欲见中伤者; 虽瞿然自责, 然性不可化, 欲降心顺俗, 则诡故 不情, 亦终不能获无咎无誉如此, 五不堪也。不喜俗人, 而当与之共事, 或宾客盈坐, 鸣声聒耳, 嚣尘臭处, 千变百伎, 在人目前, 六不堪也。心不耐烦, 而官事鞅掌, 机务缠 其心, 世故烦其虑, 七不堪也。又每非汤、武而薄周、孔, 在人间不止, 此事会显, 世 教所不容, 此甚不可一也。刚肠疾恶, 轻肆直言, 遇事便发, 此甚不可二也)]
JI Kang thus expressed his dream for a peaceful life: “Now I only wish to live in a plain alley to teach my children, talk with friends, chat about trifles, drink some alcohol, and play some music” (今但愿守陋巷, 教养子孙, 时与亲旧叙离阔, 陈说 平生, 浊酒一杯, 弹琴一曲, 志愿毕矣). However, even this simple wish could not be realized, as he was beheaded by the SI-MA government soon after.
From: Chapter 4 Ethical Thought in the Wei & Jin Period
Book: A Panoramic History of Traditional Chinese Ethics by Yi-ting ZHU (朱贻庭)
submitted by rafaelwm1982 to Anarchotao [link] [comments]
While WANG Bi advocated “Confucianism Derives from Nature” (名教本于自 然), eager to prove the natural origin of Confucianism, JI Kang called for the abandonment of Confucianism, believing that it violated rather than followed the natural law. JI claimed that “It is human nature to enjoy peace over risk, and enjoy leisure over labor” (夫民之性, 好安而恶危, 好逸而恶劳), and that this innate instinct existed in people naturally, just as the mouth may distinguish sweet from bitter and the body may distinguish itch from pinch. At that time, a Confucian scholar named ZHANG Shu-liao (张叔辽) wrote an essay titled Natural Learning Tendency《自然好学论》, and elucidated the importance of Confucianism by stressing the human natural tendency toward learning. JI Kang contradicted him by saying,
[In primordial time, the great Dao was complete. Monarchs ruled not by ordinances, and people fought not for benefits. All things worked their own ways according to their natural attributes; all people led their own lives according to their pleasure principles, sleeping when sleepy, eating when hungry. Having no idea about perfect virtues, they certainly did not need to preach benevolence and righteousness or promote propriety and legality. (洪 荒之世, 大朴未亏。君无文于上, 民无竞于下。物全理顺, 莫不自得。饱则安寝, 饥则 求食。 怡然鼓腹, 不知为至德之世也。若此, 则安知仁义之端, 礼律之文)]
Furthermore, from the perspective of natural humanity and Daoism, JI Kang criticized Confucianism, believing that “True humanity is justified in its Inaction” (人之真性, 无为正当), just as “Birds do not flock to be trained, beasts do not pack to be penned” (鸟不聚以求驯, 兽不群而求畜). He claimed that while humanity refused exterior restraints, Confucianism was created just to restrain true humanity:
When sages were dead, and Great Dao was twisted, people then resorted to language to express themselves. Dividing all things by categorizing them, they disturbed plebeian hearts by preaching benevolence and righteousness, inspected their behaviors by establishing titles and hierarchies, and hallowed educational inculcation by promoting literacy and cultures. Consequently, Six Classics were contrived, Diverse Ideological Schools flourished; honors and offices were established, and people bustled and hustled for them unconsciously. Accordingly, as birds sneaked into hoarded grains, men of aspirations resigned themselves to secular pursuits; people of alcohol rather than people of letters were entitled to make sentences regarding life and death; people who learned the Six Classics were exempt from tilling and reaping. (及至人不存, 大道陵迟, 乃始作文墨, 以传其意; 区别群物, 使有类族; 造立仁义, 以婴其心; 制为名分, 以检其外; 劝学讲文, 以神其教。故六经纷错, 百家繁炽, 开荣利之途, 故奔骛而不觉。是以贪生之禽, 食园池之梁 菽; 求安之士, 乃诡志以从俗。操笔执觚, 足容苏息; 积学明经, 以代稼穑。)
However, this superficial tendency of civilization was, in JI’s idea, unnatural, because the Six Classics intended suppression and manipulation and distorted human will for rite and law, and benevolence and righteousness served to promote hierarchical hypocrisy rather than preserve human integrity. Based on this idea, JI Kang advised his contemporaries to “Transcend Confucianism for Nature” (越名教 而任自然), that is, to return to natural humanity by getting rid of the suppression and manipulation of Six Classics, the limitation of benevolence and righteousness, and the restraint of rite and law. In response to ZHANG’s statement that “As Six Classics are like the Sun, people ignorant of them remain in the dark” (六经为太 阳, 不学为长夜), JI Kang contradicted him,
[If we are wise enough to take Six Classics as wild weeds, regard benevolence and righteousness as smelly socks, we may then sneer at ancient books, sneeze at hypocritical courtesy, twitch in ceremonial panoply, and retch at talking Rite. Naturally, if we abandon them altogether and just follow natural order, there would always be a gap in our knowledge spectrum; however, Six Classics are not necessarily the Sun, people ignorant of them are not necessarily in the dark. As a saying goes, beggars smear not the repute of horse doctors. In the primordial age when written languages were nowhere to be found, people were easy without knowledge, happy without diligence, and then need not the lecture of Six Classics, and desire not benevolence and righteousness? (今若以六经为芜 秽, 以仁义为臭腐, 睹文籍则目瞧, 修揖让则变伛, 袭章服则转筋, 谭礼典则齿龋。于 是兼而弃之, 与万物为更始, 则吾子虽好学不倦, 犹将阙焉。则向之不学, 未必为长夜, 六经未必为太阳也。俗语曰: 乞儿不辱马医。若遇上古无文之治, 可不学而获安, 不 勤而得志, 则何求于六经, 何欲于仁义哉)]
JI Kang’s advice to “Transcend Confucianism for Nature” (越名教而任自然) actually originated from his famous essay Free Thyself《释私论》, where he claimed,
[For the virtuous, their hearts are not confined to traditional rights and wrongs, and their actions are not contrary to the Great Dao. Why do I say so? Those who are calm in vigor and empty in spirit are not arrogant or narcissistic; those who are simple in heart and open in mind are not tied to their desires. With no arrogance or narcissism in the heart, they are able to transcend Confucianism for nature; with their mind untied to their desires, they are able to distinguish good and bad reasonably. Exercising reason, they abide by the Great Dao; concurring with nature, they are unconfined to traditional values. Thus, the virtuous are mostly untraditional yet reasonable, and the unvirtuous are untruthful and against Dao. Why? Being untruthful and arrogant and stingy, is most evil of the unvirtuous; being simple and modest and untraditional, is most honest of the virtuous. Hence a Daoist would say, “If I care not my body, what is there to worry me?” Those that despise death will outdo those that dread death. In this light, the hearts of the sage are not confined by rules. Therefore, YI Yin staked his talents to assist Shang Dynasty, thus serving the people and earning personal fame; ZHOU Gong handled state affairs in Emperor’s behalf regardless of suspicion of usurpation, thus promoting civility by regent order; GUAN Zhong hid no truth from HUAN Gong of Qi and gained his respect by helping Qi lead the alliance. Are they doing these for selfish interests? GUAN Zhong said: “The virtuous act out Dao and forget themselves.” That’s the answer. The virtuous take benevolent actions without observing olden customs, make honest judgments without following traditional merits, and express reasonable opinions without conforming to orthodox ideas. Therefore, they care not virtues in pride, yet their virtues coincide with olden customs; they restrain not their hearts, yet their hearts meet traditional merits; they cared not rigid rules, yet their deeds achieve right ends. (夫称君子 者, 心无措乎是非, 而行不违乎道者也。何以言之?夫气静神虚者, 心不存于矜尚; 体亮 心达者, 情不系于所欲。矜尚不存乎心, 故能越名教而任自然; 情不系于所欲, 故能审 贵贱而通物情。物情顺通, 故大无违; 越名任心, 故是非无措也。是故, 言君子则以无 措为主, 以通物为美; 言小人则以匿情为非, 以违道为阙。何者?匿情矜吝, 小人之至 恶; 虚心无措, 君子之笃行也。是以大道言: “及吾无身, 吾又何患?”无以生为贵者, 是 贤于贵生也。由斯而言, 夫至人之用心, 固不存有措矣。是故伊尹不惜贤于殷汤, 故世 济而名显; 周旦不顾嫌而隐行, 故假摄而化隆; 夷吾不匿情于齐桓, 故国霸而主尊。其 用心岂为身而系乎私哉!故《管子》曰: “君子行道, 忘其为身。”斯言是矣!君子之行贤 也, 不察于有度而后行也; 任心无邪, 不议于善而后正也; 显情无措, 不论于是而后为 也。是故傲然忘贤, 而贤与度会; 忽然任心, 而心与善遇; 傥然无措, 而事与是俱也)]
In 261, SHAN Tao (山涛, 205–283), another of the “Seven Sages of Bamboo Forest”, recommended JI Kang to serve as personnel minister for SI-MA power; however, disgusted with SHAN’s political compromise and opportunism, JI Kang refused this office and even wrote a famous letter to discontinue his friendship with SHAN Tao, in which he listed seven “intolerable things” (不堪者) and two “improper things” (不可者) as his excuses:
[People have to abide by ethical requirements, and states have to run by legal stipulations; however, if I were to accept this appointment, there would be seven things intolerable and two things improper. Regarding things intolerable: firstly, I always wake up late, but would then be repetitively urged to wake up early; secondly, I enjoy playing the zither, singing a melody, fishing and hunting in the wild, but would then lose this freedom in the company of officials and runners; thirdly, I enjoy lying down in ease and dressing up at will, but would then have to be rigidly seated in the court until my legs get numb, and formally attired in front of superiors without daring to scratch an itch; fourthly, I hate to write socializing letters, but would then be swamped in many mundane affairs and official documents, not answering which would make me appear unritely and unrighteous, yet trying to answer which would only disgust me; fifthly, my dislike of offering condolence has incurred complaints from some people and slanders from others, and would then not likely keep me immune from blames in the future even though I might carefully compromise my will to popular customs; sixthly, I dislike dull people, but would then have to receive them at work and home, who would annoy me daily with loud noises, foul smells and nasty tricks; seventhly, I am impatient of routine business, but would then be burdened with official affairs and encumbered with mundane matters. Regarding things improper: firstly, my habitual criticism of King TANG of Shang and King WU of Zhou, and contempt of ZHOU Gong and Confucius, would then seem improper and incur public censure; secondly, my obstinacy in loathing evils and speaking frankly, would then seem improper, and my irascible temper might burst right away at the sight of injustice. (人伦有礼, 朝廷 有法, 有必不堪者七, 甚不可者二: 卧喜晚起, 而当关呼之不置, 一不堪也。抱琴行吟, 弋钓草野, 而吏卒守之, 不得妄动, 二不堪也。危坐一时, 痹不得摇, 性复多虱, 把搔无 已, 而当裹以章服, 揖拜上官, 三不堪也。素不便书, 又不喜作书, 而人间多事, 堆案盈 机, 不相酬答, 则犯教伤义, 欲自勉强, 则不能久, 四不堪也。不喜吊丧, 而人道以此为 重, 已为未见恕者所怨, 至欲见中伤者; 虽瞿然自责, 然性不可化, 欲降心顺俗, 则诡故 不情, 亦终不能获无咎无誉如此, 五不堪也。不喜俗人, 而当与之共事, 或宾客盈坐, 鸣声聒耳, 嚣尘臭处, 千变百伎, 在人目前, 六不堪也。心不耐烦, 而官事鞅掌, 机务缠 其心, 世故烦其虑, 七不堪也。又每非汤、武而薄周、孔, 在人间不止, 此事会显, 世 教所不容, 此甚不可一也。刚肠疾恶, 轻肆直言, 遇事便发, 此甚不可二也)]
JI Kang thus expressed his dream for a peaceful life: “Now I only wish to live in a plain alley to teach my children, talk with friends, chat about trifles, drink some alcohol, and play some music” (今但愿守陋巷, 教养子孙, 时与亲旧叙离阔, 陈说 平生, 浊酒一杯, 弹琴一曲, 志愿毕矣). However, even this simple wish could not be realized, as he was beheaded by the SI-MA government soon after.
From: Chapter 4 Ethical Thought in the Wei & Jin Period
Book: A Panoramic History of Traditional Chinese Ethics by Yi-ting ZHU (朱贻庭)
2023.04.02 12:44 rafaelwm1982 JI Kang’s “Leave Confucianism for Nature” (嵇康)
JI Kang (嵇康, 223–262), a famous figure in literature and music during the era of Three Kingdoms, was born in Qiao County (谯县), present-day Su-zhou of An-hui Province (安徽宿州). He refused all official appointments after SI-MA family replaced CAO family in Wei Kingdom to express his political persistence. Celebrated as one of the “Seven Sages of Bamboo Forest” (竹林七贤), he and his wise friends often haunted a bamboo forest in Shan-yang County (山阳), present Hui County of Henan Province (河南辉县), and together impugned Confucianism and criticized the SI-MA government. Because of his unorthodox free lifestyle and fiery attacks on Confucianism and the new authority, he was eventually beheaded by SI-MA Zhao (司马昭, 211–265), the founder of the West Jin Dynasty (西晋, 265–317).
While WANG Bi advocated “Confucianism Derives from Nature” (名教本于自 然), eager to prove the natural origin of Confucianism, JI Kang called for the abandonment of Confucianism, believing that it violated rather than followed the natural law. JI claimed that “It is human nature to enjoy peace over risk, and enjoy leisure over labor” (夫民之性, 好安而恶危, 好逸而恶劳), and that this innate instinct existed in people naturally, just as the mouth may distinguish sweet from bitter and the body may distinguish itch from pinch. At that time, a Confucian scholar named ZHANG Shu-liao (张叔辽) wrote an essay titled Natural Learning Tendency《自然好学论》, and elucidated the importance of Confucianism by stressing the human natural tendency toward learning. JI Kang contradicted him by saying,
[In primordial time, the great Dao was complete. Monarchs ruled not by ordinances, and people fought not for benefits. All things worked their own ways according to their natural attributes; all people led their own lives according to their pleasure principles, sleeping when sleepy, eating when hungry. Having no idea about perfect virtues, they certainly did not need to preach benevolence and righteousness or promote propriety and legality. (洪 荒之世, 大朴未亏。君无文于上, 民无竞于下。物全理顺, 莫不自得。饱则安寝, 饥则 求食。 怡然鼓腹, 不知为至德之世也。若此, 则安知仁义之端, 礼律之文)]
Furthermore, from the perspective of natural humanity and Daoism, JI Kang criticized Confucianism, believing that “True humanity is justified in its Inaction” (人之真性, 无为正当), just as “Birds do not flock to be trained, beasts do not pack to be penned” (鸟不聚以求驯, 兽不群而求畜). He claimed that while humanity refused exterior restraints, Confucianism was created just to restrain true humanity:
When sages were dead, and Great Dao was twisted, people then resorted to language to express themselves. Dividing all things by categorizing them, they disturbed plebeian hearts by preaching benevolence and righteousness, inspected their behaviors by establishing titles and hierarchies, and hallowed educational inculcation by promoting literacy and cultures. Consequently, Six Classics were contrived, Diverse Ideological Schools flourished; honors and offices were established, and people bustled and hustled for them unconsciously. Accordingly, as birds sneaked into hoarded grains, men of aspirations resigned themselves to secular pursuits; people of alcohol rather than people of letters were entitled to make sentences regarding life and death; people who learned the Six Classics were exempt from tilling and reaping. (及至人不存, 大道陵迟, 乃始作文墨, 以传其意; 区别群物, 使有类族; 造立仁义, 以婴其心; 制为名分, 以检其外; 劝学讲文, 以神其教。故六经纷错, 百家繁炽, 开荣利之途, 故奔骛而不觉。是以贪生之禽, 食园池之梁 菽; 求安之士, 乃诡志以从俗。操笔执觚, 足容苏息; 积学明经, 以代稼穑。)
However, this superficial tendency of civilization was, in JI’s idea, unnatural, because the Six Classics intended suppression and manipulation and distorted human will for rite and law, and benevolence and righteousness served to promote hierarchical hypocrisy rather than preserve human integrity. Based on this idea, JI Kang advised his contemporaries to “Transcend Confucianism for Nature” (越名教 而任自然), that is, to return to natural humanity by getting rid of the suppression and manipulation of Six Classics, the limitation of benevolence and righteousness, and the restraint of rite and law. In response to ZHANG’s statement that “As Six Classics are like the Sun, people ignorant of them remain in the dark” (六经为太 阳, 不学为长夜), JI Kang contradicted him,
[If we are wise enough to take Six Classics as wild weeds, regard benevolence and righteousness as smelly socks, we may then sneer at ancient books, sneeze at hypocritical courtesy, twitch in ceremonial panoply, and retch at talking Rite. Naturally, if we abandon them altogether and just follow natural order, there would always be a gap in our knowledge spectrum; however, Six Classics are not necessarily the Sun, people ignorant of them are not necessarily in the dark. As a saying goes, beggars smear not the repute of horse doctors. In the primordial age when written languages were nowhere to be found, people were easy without knowledge, happy without diligence, and then need not the lecture of Six Classics, and desire not benevolence and righteousness? (今若以六经为芜 秽, 以仁义为臭腐, 睹文籍则目瞧, 修揖让则变伛, 袭章服则转筋, 谭礼典则齿龋。于 是兼而弃之, 与万物为更始, 则吾子虽好学不倦, 犹将阙焉。则向之不学, 未必为长夜, 六经未必为太阳也。俗语曰: 乞儿不辱马医。若遇上古无文之治, 可不学而获安, 不 勤而得志, 则何求于六经, 何欲于仁义哉)]
JI Kang’s advice to “Transcend Confucianism for Nature” (越名教而任自然) actually originated from his famous essay Free Thyself《释私论》, where he claimed,
[For the virtuous, their hearts are not confined to traditional rights and wrongs, and their actions are not contrary to the Great Dao. Why do I say so? Those who are calm in vigor and empty in spirit are not arrogant or narcissistic; those who are simple in heart and open in mind are not tied to their desires. With no arrogance or narcissism in the heart, they are able to transcend Confucianism for nature; with their mind untied to their desires, they are able to distinguish good and bad reasonably. Exercising reason, they abide by the Great Dao; concurring with nature, they are unconfined to traditional values. Thus, the virtuous are mostly untraditional yet reasonable, and the unvirtuous are untruthful and against Dao. Why? Being untruthful and arrogant and stingy, is most evil of the unvirtuous; being simple and modest and untraditional, is most honest of the virtuous. Hence a Daoist would say, “If I care not my body, what is there to worry me?” Those that despise death will outdo those that dread death. In this light, the hearts of the sage are not confined by rules. Therefore, YI Yin staked his talents to assist Shang Dynasty, thus serving the people and earning personal fame; ZHOU Gong handled state affairs in Emperor’s behalf regardless of suspicion of usurpation, thus promoting civility by regent order; GUAN Zhong hid no truth from HUAN Gong of Qi and gained his respect by helping Qi lead the alliance. Are they doing these for selfish interests? GUAN Zhong said: “The virtuous act out Dao and forget themselves.” That’s the answer. The virtuous take benevolent actions without observing olden customs, make honest judgments without following traditional merits, and express reasonable opinions without conforming to orthodox ideas. Therefore, they care not virtues in pride, yet their virtues coincide with olden customs; they restrain not their hearts, yet their hearts meet traditional merits; they cared not rigid rules, yet their deeds achieve right ends. (夫称君子 者, 心无措乎是非, 而行不违乎道者也。何以言之?夫气静神虚者, 心不存于矜尚; 体亮 心达者, 情不系于所欲。矜尚不存乎心, 故能越名教而任自然; 情不系于所欲, 故能审 贵贱而通物情。物情顺通, 故大无违; 越名任心, 故是非无措也。是故, 言君子则以无 措为主, 以通物为美; 言小人则以匿情为非, 以违道为阙。何者?匿情矜吝, 小人之至 恶; 虚心无措, 君子之笃行也。是以大道言: “及吾无身, 吾又何患?”无以生为贵者, 是 贤于贵生也。由斯而言, 夫至人之用心, 固不存有措矣。是故伊尹不惜贤于殷汤, 故世 济而名显; 周旦不顾嫌而隐行, 故假摄而化隆; 夷吾不匿情于齐桓, 故国霸而主尊。其 用心岂为身而系乎私哉!故《管子》曰: “君子行道, 忘其为身。”斯言是矣!君子之行贤 也, 不察于有度而后行也; 任心无邪, 不议于善而后正也; 显情无措, 不论于是而后为 也。是故傲然忘贤, 而贤与度会; 忽然任心, 而心与善遇; 傥然无措, 而事与是俱也)]
In 261, SHAN Tao (山涛, 205–283), another of the “Seven Sages of Bamboo Forest”, recommended JI Kang to serve as personnel minister for SI-MA power; however, disgusted with SHAN’s political compromise and opportunism, JI Kang refused this office and even wrote a famous letter to discontinue his friendship with SHAN Tao, in which he listed seven “intolerable things” (不堪者) and two “improper things” (不可者) as his excuses:
[People have to abide by ethical requirements, and states have to run by legal stipulations; however, if I were to accept this appointment, there would be seven things intolerable and two things improper. Regarding things intolerable: firstly, I always wake up late, but would then be repetitively urged to wake up early; secondly, I enjoy playing the zither, singing a melody, fishing and hunting in the wild, but would then lose this freedom in the company of officials and runners; thirdly, I enjoy lying down in ease and dressing up at will, but would then have to be rigidly seated in the court until my legs get numb, and formally attired in front of superiors without daring to scratch an itch; fourthly, I hate to write socializing letters, but would then be swamped in many mundane affairs and official documents, not answering which would make me appear unritely and unrighteous, yet trying to answer which would only disgust me; fifthly, my dislike of offering condolence has incurred complaints from some people and slanders from others, and would then not likely keep me immune from blames in the future even though I might carefully compromise my will to popular customs; sixthly, I dislike dull people, but would then have to receive them at work and home, who would annoy me daily with loud noises, foul smells and nasty tricks; seventhly, I am impatient of routine business, but would then be burdened with official affairs and encumbered with mundane matters. Regarding things improper: firstly, my habitual criticism of King TANG of Shang and King WU of Zhou, and contempt of ZHOU Gong and Confucius, would then seem improper and incur public censure; secondly, my obstinacy in loathing evils and speaking frankly, would then seem improper, and my irascible temper might burst right away at the sight of injustice. (人伦有礼, 朝廷 有法, 有必不堪者七, 甚不可者二: 卧喜晚起, 而当关呼之不置, 一不堪也。抱琴行吟, 弋钓草野, 而吏卒守之, 不得妄动, 二不堪也。危坐一时, 痹不得摇, 性复多虱, 把搔无 已, 而当裹以章服, 揖拜上官, 三不堪也。素不便书, 又不喜作书, 而人间多事, 堆案盈 机, 不相酬答, 则犯教伤义, 欲自勉强, 则不能久, 四不堪也。不喜吊丧, 而人道以此为 重, 已为未见恕者所怨, 至欲见中伤者; 虽瞿然自责, 然性不可化, 欲降心顺俗, 则诡故 不情, 亦终不能获无咎无誉如此, 五不堪也。不喜俗人, 而当与之共事, 或宾客盈坐, 鸣声聒耳, 嚣尘臭处, 千变百伎, 在人目前, 六不堪也。心不耐烦, 而官事鞅掌, 机务缠 其心, 世故烦其虑, 七不堪也。又每非汤、武而薄周、孔, 在人间不止, 此事会显, 世 教所不容, 此甚不可一也。刚肠疾恶, 轻肆直言, 遇事便发, 此甚不可二也)]
JI Kang thus expressed his dream for a peaceful life: “Now I only wish to live in a plain alley to teach my children, talk with friends, chat about trifles, drink some alcohol, and play some music” (今但愿守陋巷, 教养子孙, 时与亲旧叙离阔, 陈说 平生, 浊酒一杯, 弹琴一曲, 志愿毕矣). However, even this simple wish could not be realized, as he was beheaded by the SI-MA government soon after.
From: Chapter 4 Ethical Thought in the Wei & Jin Period
Book: A Panoramic History of Traditional Chinese Ethics by Yi-ting ZHU (朱贻庭)
submitted by rafaelwm1982 to anarchocommunism [link] [comments]
While WANG Bi advocated “Confucianism Derives from Nature” (名教本于自 然), eager to prove the natural origin of Confucianism, JI Kang called for the abandonment of Confucianism, believing that it violated rather than followed the natural law. JI claimed that “It is human nature to enjoy peace over risk, and enjoy leisure over labor” (夫民之性, 好安而恶危, 好逸而恶劳), and that this innate instinct existed in people naturally, just as the mouth may distinguish sweet from bitter and the body may distinguish itch from pinch. At that time, a Confucian scholar named ZHANG Shu-liao (张叔辽) wrote an essay titled Natural Learning Tendency《自然好学论》, and elucidated the importance of Confucianism by stressing the human natural tendency toward learning. JI Kang contradicted him by saying,
[In primordial time, the great Dao was complete. Monarchs ruled not by ordinances, and people fought not for benefits. All things worked their own ways according to their natural attributes; all people led their own lives according to their pleasure principles, sleeping when sleepy, eating when hungry. Having no idea about perfect virtues, they certainly did not need to preach benevolence and righteousness or promote propriety and legality. (洪 荒之世, 大朴未亏。君无文于上, 民无竞于下。物全理顺, 莫不自得。饱则安寝, 饥则 求食。 怡然鼓腹, 不知为至德之世也。若此, 则安知仁义之端, 礼律之文)]
Furthermore, from the perspective of natural humanity and Daoism, JI Kang criticized Confucianism, believing that “True humanity is justified in its Inaction” (人之真性, 无为正当), just as “Birds do not flock to be trained, beasts do not pack to be penned” (鸟不聚以求驯, 兽不群而求畜). He claimed that while humanity refused exterior restraints, Confucianism was created just to restrain true humanity:
When sages were dead, and Great Dao was twisted, people then resorted to language to express themselves. Dividing all things by categorizing them, they disturbed plebeian hearts by preaching benevolence and righteousness, inspected their behaviors by establishing titles and hierarchies, and hallowed educational inculcation by promoting literacy and cultures. Consequently, Six Classics were contrived, Diverse Ideological Schools flourished; honors and offices were established, and people bustled and hustled for them unconsciously. Accordingly, as birds sneaked into hoarded grains, men of aspirations resigned themselves to secular pursuits; people of alcohol rather than people of letters were entitled to make sentences regarding life and death; people who learned the Six Classics were exempt from tilling and reaping. (及至人不存, 大道陵迟, 乃始作文墨, 以传其意; 区别群物, 使有类族; 造立仁义, 以婴其心; 制为名分, 以检其外; 劝学讲文, 以神其教。故六经纷错, 百家繁炽, 开荣利之途, 故奔骛而不觉。是以贪生之禽, 食园池之梁 菽; 求安之士, 乃诡志以从俗。操笔执觚, 足容苏息; 积学明经, 以代稼穑。)
However, this superficial tendency of civilization was, in JI’s idea, unnatural, because the Six Classics intended suppression and manipulation and distorted human will for rite and law, and benevolence and righteousness served to promote hierarchical hypocrisy rather than preserve human integrity. Based on this idea, JI Kang advised his contemporaries to “Transcend Confucianism for Nature” (越名教 而任自然), that is, to return to natural humanity by getting rid of the suppression and manipulation of Six Classics, the limitation of benevolence and righteousness, and the restraint of rite and law. In response to ZHANG’s statement that “As Six Classics are like the Sun, people ignorant of them remain in the dark” (六经为太 阳, 不学为长夜), JI Kang contradicted him,
[If we are wise enough to take Six Classics as wild weeds, regard benevolence and righteousness as smelly socks, we may then sneer at ancient books, sneeze at hypocritical courtesy, twitch in ceremonial panoply, and retch at talking Rite. Naturally, if we abandon them altogether and just follow natural order, there would always be a gap in our knowledge spectrum; however, Six Classics are not necessarily the Sun, people ignorant of them are not necessarily in the dark. As a saying goes, beggars smear not the repute of horse doctors. In the primordial age when written languages were nowhere to be found, people were easy without knowledge, happy without diligence, and then need not the lecture of Six Classics, and desire not benevolence and righteousness? (今若以六经为芜 秽, 以仁义为臭腐, 睹文籍则目瞧, 修揖让则变伛, 袭章服则转筋, 谭礼典则齿龋。于 是兼而弃之, 与万物为更始, 则吾子虽好学不倦, 犹将阙焉。则向之不学, 未必为长夜, 六经未必为太阳也。俗语曰: 乞儿不辱马医。若遇上古无文之治, 可不学而获安, 不 勤而得志, 则何求于六经, 何欲于仁义哉)]
JI Kang’s advice to “Transcend Confucianism for Nature” (越名教而任自然) actually originated from his famous essay Free Thyself《释私论》, where he claimed,
[For the virtuous, their hearts are not confined to traditional rights and wrongs, and their actions are not contrary to the Great Dao. Why do I say so? Those who are calm in vigor and empty in spirit are not arrogant or narcissistic; those who are simple in heart and open in mind are not tied to their desires. With no arrogance or narcissism in the heart, they are able to transcend Confucianism for nature; with their mind untied to their desires, they are able to distinguish good and bad reasonably. Exercising reason, they abide by the Great Dao; concurring with nature, they are unconfined to traditional values. Thus, the virtuous are mostly untraditional yet reasonable, and the unvirtuous are untruthful and against Dao. Why? Being untruthful and arrogant and stingy, is most evil of the unvirtuous; being simple and modest and untraditional, is most honest of the virtuous. Hence a Daoist would say, “If I care not my body, what is there to worry me?” Those that despise death will outdo those that dread death. In this light, the hearts of the sage are not confined by rules. Therefore, YI Yin staked his talents to assist Shang Dynasty, thus serving the people and earning personal fame; ZHOU Gong handled state affairs in Emperor’s behalf regardless of suspicion of usurpation, thus promoting civility by regent order; GUAN Zhong hid no truth from HUAN Gong of Qi and gained his respect by helping Qi lead the alliance. Are they doing these for selfish interests? GUAN Zhong said: “The virtuous act out Dao and forget themselves.” That’s the answer. The virtuous take benevolent actions without observing olden customs, make honest judgments without following traditional merits, and express reasonable opinions without conforming to orthodox ideas. Therefore, they care not virtues in pride, yet their virtues coincide with olden customs; they restrain not their hearts, yet their hearts meet traditional merits; they cared not rigid rules, yet their deeds achieve right ends. (夫称君子 者, 心无措乎是非, 而行不违乎道者也。何以言之?夫气静神虚者, 心不存于矜尚; 体亮 心达者, 情不系于所欲。矜尚不存乎心, 故能越名教而任自然; 情不系于所欲, 故能审 贵贱而通物情。物情顺通, 故大无违; 越名任心, 故是非无措也。是故, 言君子则以无 措为主, 以通物为美; 言小人则以匿情为非, 以违道为阙。何者?匿情矜吝, 小人之至 恶; 虚心无措, 君子之笃行也。是以大道言: “及吾无身, 吾又何患?”无以生为贵者, 是 贤于贵生也。由斯而言, 夫至人之用心, 固不存有措矣。是故伊尹不惜贤于殷汤, 故世 济而名显; 周旦不顾嫌而隐行, 故假摄而化隆; 夷吾不匿情于齐桓, 故国霸而主尊。其 用心岂为身而系乎私哉!故《管子》曰: “君子行道, 忘其为身。”斯言是矣!君子之行贤 也, 不察于有度而后行也; 任心无邪, 不议于善而后正也; 显情无措, 不论于是而后为 也。是故傲然忘贤, 而贤与度会; 忽然任心, 而心与善遇; 傥然无措, 而事与是俱也)]
In 261, SHAN Tao (山涛, 205–283), another of the “Seven Sages of Bamboo Forest”, recommended JI Kang to serve as personnel minister for SI-MA power; however, disgusted with SHAN’s political compromise and opportunism, JI Kang refused this office and even wrote a famous letter to discontinue his friendship with SHAN Tao, in which he listed seven “intolerable things” (不堪者) and two “improper things” (不可者) as his excuses:
[People have to abide by ethical requirements, and states have to run by legal stipulations; however, if I were to accept this appointment, there would be seven things intolerable and two things improper. Regarding things intolerable: firstly, I always wake up late, but would then be repetitively urged to wake up early; secondly, I enjoy playing the zither, singing a melody, fishing and hunting in the wild, but would then lose this freedom in the company of officials and runners; thirdly, I enjoy lying down in ease and dressing up at will, but would then have to be rigidly seated in the court until my legs get numb, and formally attired in front of superiors without daring to scratch an itch; fourthly, I hate to write socializing letters, but would then be swamped in many mundane affairs and official documents, not answering which would make me appear unritely and unrighteous, yet trying to answer which would only disgust me; fifthly, my dislike of offering condolence has incurred complaints from some people and slanders from others, and would then not likely keep me immune from blames in the future even though I might carefully compromise my will to popular customs; sixthly, I dislike dull people, but would then have to receive them at work and home, who would annoy me daily with loud noises, foul smells and nasty tricks; seventhly, I am impatient of routine business, but would then be burdened with official affairs and encumbered with mundane matters. Regarding things improper: firstly, my habitual criticism of King TANG of Shang and King WU of Zhou, and contempt of ZHOU Gong and Confucius, would then seem improper and incur public censure; secondly, my obstinacy in loathing evils and speaking frankly, would then seem improper, and my irascible temper might burst right away at the sight of injustice. (人伦有礼, 朝廷 有法, 有必不堪者七, 甚不可者二: 卧喜晚起, 而当关呼之不置, 一不堪也。抱琴行吟, 弋钓草野, 而吏卒守之, 不得妄动, 二不堪也。危坐一时, 痹不得摇, 性复多虱, 把搔无 已, 而当裹以章服, 揖拜上官, 三不堪也。素不便书, 又不喜作书, 而人间多事, 堆案盈 机, 不相酬答, 则犯教伤义, 欲自勉强, 则不能久, 四不堪也。不喜吊丧, 而人道以此为 重, 已为未见恕者所怨, 至欲见中伤者; 虽瞿然自责, 然性不可化, 欲降心顺俗, 则诡故 不情, 亦终不能获无咎无誉如此, 五不堪也。不喜俗人, 而当与之共事, 或宾客盈坐, 鸣声聒耳, 嚣尘臭处, 千变百伎, 在人目前, 六不堪也。心不耐烦, 而官事鞅掌, 机务缠 其心, 世故烦其虑, 七不堪也。又每非汤、武而薄周、孔, 在人间不止, 此事会显, 世 教所不容, 此甚不可一也。刚肠疾恶, 轻肆直言, 遇事便发, 此甚不可二也)]
JI Kang thus expressed his dream for a peaceful life: “Now I only wish to live in a plain alley to teach my children, talk with friends, chat about trifles, drink some alcohol, and play some music” (今但愿守陋巷, 教养子孙, 时与亲旧叙离阔, 陈说 平生, 浊酒一杯, 弹琴一曲, 志愿毕矣). However, even this simple wish could not be realized, as he was beheaded by the SI-MA government soon after.
From: Chapter 4 Ethical Thought in the Wei & Jin Period
Book: A Panoramic History of Traditional Chinese Ethics by Yi-ting ZHU (朱贻庭)
2023.04.02 12:40 rafaelwm1982 JI Kang’s “Leave Confucianism for Nature” (嵇康)
JI Kang (嵇康, 223–262), a famous figure in literature and music during the era of Three Kingdoms, was born in Qiao County (谯县), present-day Su-zhou of An-hui Province (安徽宿州). He refused all official appointments after SI-MA family replaced CAO family in Wei Kingdom to express his political persistence. Celebrated as one of the “Seven Sages of Bamboo Forest” (竹林七贤), he and his wise friends often haunted a bamboo forest in Shan-yang County (山阳), present Hui County of Henan Province (河南辉县), and together impugned Confucianism and criticized the SI-MA government. Because of his unorthodox free lifestyle and fiery attacks on Confucianism and the new authority, he was eventually beheaded by SI-MA Zhao (司马昭, 211–265), the founder of the West Jin Dynasty (西晋, 265–317).
While WANG Bi advocated “Confucianism Derives from Nature” (名教本于自 然), eager to prove the natural origin of Confucianism, JI Kang called for the abandonment of Confucianism, believing that it violated rather than followed the natural law. JI claimed that “It is human nature to enjoy peace over risk, and enjoy leisure over labor” (夫民之性, 好安而恶危, 好逸而恶劳), and that this innate instinct existed in people naturally, just as the mouth may distinguish sweet from bitter and the body may distinguish itch from pinch. At that time, a Confucian scholar named ZHANG Shu-liao (张叔辽) wrote an essay titled Natural Learning Tendency《自然好学论》, and elucidated the importance of Confucianism by stressing the human natural tendency toward learning. JI Kang contradicted him by saying,
[In primordial time, the great Dao was complete. Monarchs ruled not by ordinances, and people fought not for benefits. All things worked their own ways according to their natural attributes; all people led their own lives according to their pleasure principles, sleeping when sleepy, eating when hungry. Having no idea about perfect virtues, they certainly did not need to preach benevolence and righteousness or promote propriety and legality. (洪 荒之世, 大朴未亏。君无文于上, 民无竞于下。物全理顺, 莫不自得。饱则安寝, 饥则 求食。 怡然鼓腹, 不知为至德之世也。若此, 则安知仁义之端, 礼律之文)]
Furthermore, from the perspective of natural humanity and Daoism, JI Kang criticized Confucianism, believing that “True humanity is justified in its Inaction” (人之真性, 无为正当), just as “Birds do not flock to be trained, beasts do not pack to be penned” (鸟不聚以求驯, 兽不群而求畜). He claimed that while humanity refused exterior restraints, Confucianism was created just to restrain true humanity:
When sages were dead, and Great Dao was twisted, people then resorted to language to express themselves. Dividing all things by categorizing them, they disturbed plebeian hearts by preaching benevolence and righteousness, inspected their behaviors by establishing titles and hierarchies, and hallowed educational inculcation by promoting literacy and cultures. Consequently, Six Classics were contrived, Diverse Ideological Schools flourished; honors and offices were established, and people bustled and hustled for them unconsciously. Accordingly, as birds sneaked into hoarded grains, men of aspirations resigned themselves to secular pursuits; people of alcohol rather than people of letters were entitled to make sentences regarding life and death; people who learned the Six Classics were exempt from tilling and reaping. (及至人不存, 大道陵迟, 乃始作文墨, 以传其意; 区别群物, 使有类族; 造立仁义, 以婴其心; 制为名分, 以检其外; 劝学讲文, 以神其教。故六经纷错, 百家繁炽, 开荣利之途, 故奔骛而不觉。是以贪生之禽, 食园池之梁 菽; 求安之士, 乃诡志以从俗。操笔执觚, 足容苏息; 积学明经, 以代稼穑。)
However, this superficial tendency of civilization was, in JI’s idea, unnatural, because the Six Classics intended suppression and manipulation and distorted human will for rite and law, and benevolence and righteousness served to promote hierarchical hypocrisy rather than preserve human integrity. Based on this idea, JI Kang advised his contemporaries to “Transcend Confucianism for Nature” (越名教 而任自然), that is, to return to natural humanity by getting rid of the suppression and manipulation of Six Classics, the limitation of benevolence and righteousness, and the restraint of rite and law. In response to ZHANG’s statement that “As Six Classics are like the Sun, people ignorant of them remain in the dark” (六经为太 阳, 不学为长夜), JI Kang contradicted him,
[If we are wise enough to take Six Classics as wild weeds, regard benevolence and righteousness as smelly socks, we may then sneer at ancient books, sneeze at hypocritical courtesy, twitch in ceremonial panoply, and retch at talking Rite. Naturally, if we abandon them altogether and just follow natural order, there would always be a gap in our knowledge spectrum; however, Six Classics are not necessarily the Sun, people ignorant of them are not necessarily in the dark. As a saying goes, beggars smear not the repute of horse doctors. In the primordial age when written languages were nowhere to be found, people were easy without knowledge, happy without diligence, and then need not the lecture of Six Classics, and desire not benevolence and righteousness? (今若以六经为芜 秽, 以仁义为臭腐, 睹文籍则目瞧, 修揖让则变伛, 袭章服则转筋, 谭礼典则齿龋。于 是兼而弃之, 与万物为更始, 则吾子虽好学不倦, 犹将阙焉。则向之不学, 未必为长夜, 六经未必为太阳也。俗语曰: 乞儿不辱马医。若遇上古无文之治, 可不学而获安, 不 勤而得志, 则何求于六经, 何欲于仁义哉)]
JI Kang’s advice to “Transcend Confucianism for Nature” (越名教而任自然) actually originated from his famous essay Free Thyself《释私论》, where he claimed,
[For the virtuous, their hearts are not confined to traditional rights and wrongs, and their actions are not contrary to the Great Dao. Why do I say so? Those who are calm in vigor and empty in spirit are not arrogant or narcissistic; those who are simple in heart and open in mind are not tied to their desires. With no arrogance or narcissism in the heart, they are able to transcend Confucianism for nature; with their mind untied to their desires, they are able to distinguish good and bad reasonably. Exercising reason, they abide by the Great Dao; concurring with nature, they are unconfined to traditional values. Thus, the virtuous are mostly untraditional yet reasonable, and the unvirtuous are untruthful and against Dao. Why? Being untruthful and arrogant and stingy, is most evil of the unvirtuous; being simple and modest and untraditional, is most honest of the virtuous. Hence a Daoist would say, “If I care not my body, what is there to worry me?” Those that despise death will outdo those that dread death. In this light, the hearts of the sage are not confined by rules. Therefore, YI Yin staked his talents to assist Shang Dynasty, thus serving the people and earning personal fame; ZHOU Gong handled state affairs in Emperor’s behalf regardless of suspicion of usurpation, thus promoting civility by regent order; GUAN Zhong hid no truth from HUAN Gong of Qi and gained his respect by helping Qi lead the alliance. Are they doing these for selfish interests? GUAN Zhong said: “The virtuous act out Dao and forget themselves.” That’s the answer. The virtuous take benevolent actions without observing olden customs, make honest judgments without following traditional merits, and express reasonable opinions without conforming to orthodox ideas. Therefore, they care not virtues in pride, yet their virtues coincide with olden customs; they restrain not their hearts, yet their hearts meet traditional merits; they cared not rigid rules, yet their deeds achieve right ends. (夫称君子 者, 心无措乎是非, 而行不违乎道者也。何以言之?夫气静神虚者, 心不存于矜尚; 体亮 心达者, 情不系于所欲。矜尚不存乎心, 故能越名教而任自然; 情不系于所欲, 故能审 贵贱而通物情。物情顺通, 故大无违; 越名任心, 故是非无措也。是故, 言君子则以无 措为主, 以通物为美; 言小人则以匿情为非, 以违道为阙。何者?匿情矜吝, 小人之至 恶; 虚心无措, 君子之笃行也。是以大道言: “及吾无身, 吾又何患?”无以生为贵者, 是 贤于贵生也。由斯而言, 夫至人之用心, 固不存有措矣。是故伊尹不惜贤于殷汤, 故世 济而名显; 周旦不顾嫌而隐行, 故假摄而化隆; 夷吾不匿情于齐桓, 故国霸而主尊。其 用心岂为身而系乎私哉!故《管子》曰: “君子行道, 忘其为身。”斯言是矣!君子之行贤 也, 不察于有度而后行也; 任心无邪, 不议于善而后正也; 显情无措, 不论于是而后为 也。是故傲然忘贤, 而贤与度会; 忽然任心, 而心与善遇; 傥然无措, 而事与是俱也)]
In 261, SHAN Tao (山涛, 205–283), another of the “Seven Sages of Bamboo Forest”, recommended JI Kang to serve as personnel minister for SI-MA power; however, disgusted with SHAN’s political compromise and opportunism, JI Kang refused this office and even wrote a famous letter to discontinue his friendship with SHAN Tao, in which he listed seven “intolerable things” (不堪者) and two “improper things” (不可者) as his excuses:
[People have to abide by ethical requirements, and states have to run by legal stipulations; however, if I were to accept this appointment, there would be seven things intolerable and two things improper. Regarding things intolerable: firstly, I always wake up late, but would then be repetitively urged to wake up early; secondly, I enjoy playing the zither, singing a melody, fishing and hunting in the wild, but would then lose this freedom in the company of officials and runners; thirdly, I enjoy lying down in ease and dressing up at will, but would then have to be rigidly seated in the court until my legs get numb, and formally attired in front of superiors without daring to scratch an itch; fourthly, I hate to write socializing letters, but would then be swamped in many mundane affairs and official documents, not answering which would make me appear unritely and unrighteous, yet trying to answer which would only disgust me; fifthly, my dislike of offering condolence has incurred complaints from some people and slanders from others, and would then not likely keep me immune from blames in the future even though I might carefully compromise my will to popular customs; sixthly, I dislike dull people, but would then have to receive them at work and home, who would annoy me daily with loud noises, foul smells and nasty tricks; seventhly, I am impatient of routine business, but would then be burdened with official affairs and encumbered with mundane matters. Regarding things improper: firstly, my habitual criticism of King TANG of Shang and King WU of Zhou, and contempt of ZHOU Gong and Confucius, would then seem improper and incur public censure; secondly, my obstinacy in loathing evils and speaking frankly, would then seem improper, and my irascible temper might burst right away at the sight of injustice. (人伦有礼, 朝廷 有法, 有必不堪者七, 甚不可者二: 卧喜晚起, 而当关呼之不置, 一不堪也。抱琴行吟, 弋钓草野, 而吏卒守之, 不得妄动, 二不堪也。危坐一时, 痹不得摇, 性复多虱, 把搔无 已, 而当裹以章服, 揖拜上官, 三不堪也。素不便书, 又不喜作书, 而人间多事, 堆案盈 机, 不相酬答, 则犯教伤义, 欲自勉强, 则不能久, 四不堪也。不喜吊丧, 而人道以此为 重, 已为未见恕者所怨, 至欲见中伤者; 虽瞿然自责, 然性不可化, 欲降心顺俗, 则诡故 不情, 亦终不能获无咎无誉如此, 五不堪也。不喜俗人, 而当与之共事, 或宾客盈坐, 鸣声聒耳, 嚣尘臭处, 千变百伎, 在人目前, 六不堪也。心不耐烦, 而官事鞅掌, 机务缠 其心, 世故烦其虑, 七不堪也。又每非汤、武而薄周、孔, 在人间不止, 此事会显, 世 教所不容, 此甚不可一也。刚肠疾恶, 轻肆直言, 遇事便发, 此甚不可二也)]
JI Kang thus expressed his dream for a peaceful life: “Now I only wish to live in a plain alley to teach my children, talk with friends, chat about trifles, drink some alcohol, and play some music” (今但愿守陋巷, 教养子孙, 时与亲旧叙离阔, 陈说 平生, 浊酒一杯, 弹琴一曲, 志愿毕矣). However, even this simple wish could not be realized, as he was beheaded by the SI-MA government soon after.
From: Chapter 4 Ethical Thought in the Wei & Jin Period
Book: A Panoramic History of Traditional Chinese Ethics by Yi-ting ZHU (朱贻庭)
submitted by rafaelwm1982 to taoism_v2 [link] [comments]
While WANG Bi advocated “Confucianism Derives from Nature” (名教本于自 然), eager to prove the natural origin of Confucianism, JI Kang called for the abandonment of Confucianism, believing that it violated rather than followed the natural law. JI claimed that “It is human nature to enjoy peace over risk, and enjoy leisure over labor” (夫民之性, 好安而恶危, 好逸而恶劳), and that this innate instinct existed in people naturally, just as the mouth may distinguish sweet from bitter and the body may distinguish itch from pinch. At that time, a Confucian scholar named ZHANG Shu-liao (张叔辽) wrote an essay titled Natural Learning Tendency《自然好学论》, and elucidated the importance of Confucianism by stressing the human natural tendency toward learning. JI Kang contradicted him by saying,
[In primordial time, the great Dao was complete. Monarchs ruled not by ordinances, and people fought not for benefits. All things worked their own ways according to their natural attributes; all people led their own lives according to their pleasure principles, sleeping when sleepy, eating when hungry. Having no idea about perfect virtues, they certainly did not need to preach benevolence and righteousness or promote propriety and legality. (洪 荒之世, 大朴未亏。君无文于上, 民无竞于下。物全理顺, 莫不自得。饱则安寝, 饥则 求食。 怡然鼓腹, 不知为至德之世也。若此, 则安知仁义之端, 礼律之文)]
Furthermore, from the perspective of natural humanity and Daoism, JI Kang criticized Confucianism, believing that “True humanity is justified in its Inaction” (人之真性, 无为正当), just as “Birds do not flock to be trained, beasts do not pack to be penned” (鸟不聚以求驯, 兽不群而求畜). He claimed that while humanity refused exterior restraints, Confucianism was created just to restrain true humanity:
When sages were dead, and Great Dao was twisted, people then resorted to language to express themselves. Dividing all things by categorizing them, they disturbed plebeian hearts by preaching benevolence and righteousness, inspected their behaviors by establishing titles and hierarchies, and hallowed educational inculcation by promoting literacy and cultures. Consequently, Six Classics were contrived, Diverse Ideological Schools flourished; honors and offices were established, and people bustled and hustled for them unconsciously. Accordingly, as birds sneaked into hoarded grains, men of aspirations resigned themselves to secular pursuits; people of alcohol rather than people of letters were entitled to make sentences regarding life and death; people who learned the Six Classics were exempt from tilling and reaping. (及至人不存, 大道陵迟, 乃始作文墨, 以传其意; 区别群物, 使有类族; 造立仁义, 以婴其心; 制为名分, 以检其外; 劝学讲文, 以神其教。故六经纷错, 百家繁炽, 开荣利之途, 故奔骛而不觉。是以贪生之禽, 食园池之梁 菽; 求安之士, 乃诡志以从俗。操笔执觚, 足容苏息; 积学明经, 以代稼穑。)
However, this superficial tendency of civilization was, in JI’s idea, unnatural, because the Six Classics intended suppression and manipulation and distorted human will for rite and law, and benevolence and righteousness served to promote hierarchical hypocrisy rather than preserve human integrity. Based on this idea, JI Kang advised his contemporaries to “Transcend Confucianism for Nature” (越名教 而任自然), that is, to return to natural humanity by getting rid of the suppression and manipulation of Six Classics, the limitation of benevolence and righteousness, and the restraint of rite and law. In response to ZHANG’s statement that “As Six Classics are like the Sun, people ignorant of them remain in the dark” (六经为太 阳, 不学为长夜), JI Kang contradicted him,
[If we are wise enough to take Six Classics as wild weeds, regard benevolence and righteousness as smelly socks, we may then sneer at ancient books, sneeze at hypocritical courtesy, twitch in ceremonial panoply, and retch at talking Rite. Naturally, if we abandon them altogether and just follow natural order, there would always be a gap in our knowledge spectrum; however, Six Classics are not necessarily the Sun, people ignorant of them are not necessarily in the dark. As a saying goes, beggars smear not the repute of horse doctors. In the primordial age when written languages were nowhere to be found, people were easy without knowledge, happy without diligence, and then need not the lecture of Six Classics, and desire not benevolence and righteousness? (今若以六经为芜 秽, 以仁义为臭腐, 睹文籍则目瞧, 修揖让则变伛, 袭章服则转筋, 谭礼典则齿龋。于 是兼而弃之, 与万物为更始, 则吾子虽好学不倦, 犹将阙焉。则向之不学, 未必为长夜, 六经未必为太阳也。俗语曰: 乞儿不辱马医。若遇上古无文之治, 可不学而获安, 不 勤而得志, 则何求于六经, 何欲于仁义哉)]
JI Kang’s advice to “Transcend Confucianism for Nature” (越名教而任自然) actually originated from his famous essay Free Thyself《释私论》, where he claimed,
[For the virtuous, their hearts are not confined to traditional rights and wrongs, and their actions are not contrary to the Great Dao. Why do I say so? Those who are calm in vigor and empty in spirit are not arrogant or narcissistic; those who are simple in heart and open in mind are not tied to their desires. With no arrogance or narcissism in the heart, they are able to transcend Confucianism for nature; with their mind untied to their desires, they are able to distinguish good and bad reasonably. Exercising reason, they abide by the Great Dao; concurring with nature, they are unconfined to traditional values. Thus, the virtuous are mostly untraditional yet reasonable, and the unvirtuous are untruthful and against Dao. Why? Being untruthful and arrogant and stingy, is most evil of the unvirtuous; being simple and modest and untraditional, is most honest of the virtuous. Hence a Daoist would say, “If I care not my body, what is there to worry me?” Those that despise death will outdo those that dread death. In this light, the hearts of the sage are not confined by rules. Therefore, YI Yin staked his talents to assist Shang Dynasty, thus serving the people and earning personal fame; ZHOU Gong handled state affairs in Emperor’s behalf regardless of suspicion of usurpation, thus promoting civility by regent order; GUAN Zhong hid no truth from HUAN Gong of Qi and gained his respect by helping Qi lead the alliance. Are they doing these for selfish interests? GUAN Zhong said: “The virtuous act out Dao and forget themselves.” That’s the answer. The virtuous take benevolent actions without observing olden customs, make honest judgments without following traditional merits, and express reasonable opinions without conforming to orthodox ideas. Therefore, they care not virtues in pride, yet their virtues coincide with olden customs; they restrain not their hearts, yet their hearts meet traditional merits; they cared not rigid rules, yet their deeds achieve right ends. (夫称君子 者, 心无措乎是非, 而行不违乎道者也。何以言之?夫气静神虚者, 心不存于矜尚; 体亮 心达者, 情不系于所欲。矜尚不存乎心, 故能越名教而任自然; 情不系于所欲, 故能审 贵贱而通物情。物情顺通, 故大无违; 越名任心, 故是非无措也。是故, 言君子则以无 措为主, 以通物为美; 言小人则以匿情为非, 以违道为阙。何者?匿情矜吝, 小人之至 恶; 虚心无措, 君子之笃行也。是以大道言: “及吾无身, 吾又何患?”无以生为贵者, 是 贤于贵生也。由斯而言, 夫至人之用心, 固不存有措矣。是故伊尹不惜贤于殷汤, 故世 济而名显; 周旦不顾嫌而隐行, 故假摄而化隆; 夷吾不匿情于齐桓, 故国霸而主尊。其 用心岂为身而系乎私哉!故《管子》曰: “君子行道, 忘其为身。”斯言是矣!君子之行贤 也, 不察于有度而后行也; 任心无邪, 不议于善而后正也; 显情无措, 不论于是而后为 也。是故傲然忘贤, 而贤与度会; 忽然任心, 而心与善遇; 傥然无措, 而事与是俱也)]
In 261, SHAN Tao (山涛, 205–283), another of the “Seven Sages of Bamboo Forest”, recommended JI Kang to serve as personnel minister for SI-MA power; however, disgusted with SHAN’s political compromise and opportunism, JI Kang refused this office and even wrote a famous letter to discontinue his friendship with SHAN Tao, in which he listed seven “intolerable things” (不堪者) and two “improper things” (不可者) as his excuses:
[People have to abide by ethical requirements, and states have to run by legal stipulations; however, if I were to accept this appointment, there would be seven things intolerable and two things improper. Regarding things intolerable: firstly, I always wake up late, but would then be repetitively urged to wake up early; secondly, I enjoy playing the zither, singing a melody, fishing and hunting in the wild, but would then lose this freedom in the company of officials and runners; thirdly, I enjoy lying down in ease and dressing up at will, but would then have to be rigidly seated in the court until my legs get numb, and formally attired in front of superiors without daring to scratch an itch; fourthly, I hate to write socializing letters, but would then be swamped in many mundane affairs and official documents, not answering which would make me appear unritely and unrighteous, yet trying to answer which would only disgust me; fifthly, my dislike of offering condolence has incurred complaints from some people and slanders from others, and would then not likely keep me immune from blames in the future even though I might carefully compromise my will to popular customs; sixthly, I dislike dull people, but would then have to receive them at work and home, who would annoy me daily with loud noises, foul smells and nasty tricks; seventhly, I am impatient of routine business, but would then be burdened with official affairs and encumbered with mundane matters. Regarding things improper: firstly, my habitual criticism of King TANG of Shang and King WU of Zhou, and contempt of ZHOU Gong and Confucius, would then seem improper and incur public censure; secondly, my obstinacy in loathing evils and speaking frankly, would then seem improper, and my irascible temper might burst right away at the sight of injustice. (人伦有礼, 朝廷 有法, 有必不堪者七, 甚不可者二: 卧喜晚起, 而当关呼之不置, 一不堪也。抱琴行吟, 弋钓草野, 而吏卒守之, 不得妄动, 二不堪也。危坐一时, 痹不得摇, 性复多虱, 把搔无 已, 而当裹以章服, 揖拜上官, 三不堪也。素不便书, 又不喜作书, 而人间多事, 堆案盈 机, 不相酬答, 则犯教伤义, 欲自勉强, 则不能久, 四不堪也。不喜吊丧, 而人道以此为 重, 已为未见恕者所怨, 至欲见中伤者; 虽瞿然自责, 然性不可化, 欲降心顺俗, 则诡故 不情, 亦终不能获无咎无誉如此, 五不堪也。不喜俗人, 而当与之共事, 或宾客盈坐, 鸣声聒耳, 嚣尘臭处, 千变百伎, 在人目前, 六不堪也。心不耐烦, 而官事鞅掌, 机务缠 其心, 世故烦其虑, 七不堪也。又每非汤、武而薄周、孔, 在人间不止, 此事会显, 世 教所不容, 此甚不可一也。刚肠疾恶, 轻肆直言, 遇事便发, 此甚不可二也)]
JI Kang thus expressed his dream for a peaceful life: “Now I only wish to live in a plain alley to teach my children, talk with friends, chat about trifles, drink some alcohol, and play some music” (今但愿守陋巷, 教养子孙, 时与亲旧叙离阔, 陈说 平生, 浊酒一杯, 弹琴一曲, 志愿毕矣). However, even this simple wish could not be realized, as he was beheaded by the SI-MA government soon after.
From: Chapter 4 Ethical Thought in the Wei & Jin Period
Book: A Panoramic History of Traditional Chinese Ethics by Yi-ting ZHU (朱贻庭)
2023.04.02 12:30 VariMu670 Noise Cancelling to drown out coworkers talking on the phone
Hi, sorry for making another "what headphones have the best noise cancelling" post but I am unsure if all of the usual suggestions work well for my situation.
I am working as a software developer in an office where customer support is located right next to my desk (just startup things) and they are talking loudly on the phone all the time. As you can imagine this affects my ability to work quite a bit. Does anyone here know if the usually recommended headphones (Bose QC/Sony 1000x etc.) are able to block out that kind of noise well? If not, are there other brands/models that would work for this situation? I don't care if they are in-ear or over-ear.
I know earplugs are recommended here sometimes but I'd like to avoid them if possible.
Thanks in advance!
submitted by VariMu670 to HeadphoneAdvice [link] [comments]
I am working as a software developer in an office where customer support is located right next to my desk (just startup things) and they are talking loudly on the phone all the time. As you can imagine this affects my ability to work quite a bit. Does anyone here know if the usually recommended headphones (Bose QC/Sony 1000x etc.) are able to block out that kind of noise well? If not, are there other brands/models that would work for this situation? I don't care if they are in-ear or over-ear.
I know earplugs are recommended here sometimes but I'd like to avoid them if possible.
Thanks in advance!
2023.04.02 12:15 Amethyst709 autism and sexuals
Hi, i was looking at characteristics that may suggest an adult person is on the autistic spectrum and started coming to the evidence/conclusion that autism and sexuality is tightly linked.
I honestly believe sexuality is a disease, and unless you recognize it as such, it's gonna take over your life and your brain and you won't ever be able to feel well again.
For individuals with autism spectrum disorder, providing an “appropriate” emotional response or looking at things from someone else’s perspective can be challenging.
It kind of remind me when the topic of porn gets brought up. Everyone is just worried ab how it might affect the "quality" of sex they're having, and how it creates unrealistic expectations. There are even people who say they aren't agst it because it spices up their sex lives. Or that porn is necessary even, because it gives an outlet for lonely men (and women to a lesser extent) who would rape "real" women otherwise.
This belief that men's needs trump everything, and should be prioritized over other people's lives (mostly women's) is clearly a sign of a diseased society that lacks empathy and that needs a subcategory of people they can exploit to feed their sickness.
The fact that people are talking about how it's gonna effect their sex lives personally and their ability to feel pleasure instead of others who are being exploited and hurt just shows how narcissistic/egocentric sexuals are. It's all about them and their fleeting pleasure, and relationships.
They also need to portray sex as a need bc they can't conceive someone could think different, and constantly erase the existence of asexuals and antisexual people.
In addition to struggling with nonverbal communication, the “art of conversation” is often a difficulty for adults on the autism spectrum. This can present as someone dominating a conversation—rather than participating in a more typical back-and-forth.
They resort to insults and belittling when antisexuals give our opnion. "You need therapy" "you need counselling" "you're just an incel/femcel" "you're a virgin". It's not conducive to a conversation, this is just a way to shut us down completely bc as said earlier they can't handle another's point of view.
They struggle wih "nonverbal communication" bc they interpret everything and nothign as a sign of sexual interest (even just someone making (prolonged) eye contact).
Repetitive behaviors or "stimming" (this on is particularly telling)
Engaging in certain physical motions or making certain sounds repetitively can relieve stress or anxiety for an adult living with autism or ADHD.
This is self-stimulating behavior, also called “stimming,” and people with ADHD and throughout the neurotypical spectrum do it as well.
Sex is a repetitive behaviour, doing the same back and forth motion and making weird noises LOL. Also stimulation that they need constantly to feel well. Otherwise they claim to get anxious, stressed, can't focus, even become depressed, etc...
Strict adherence to a routine Individuals living with autism may become angry or upset when any detail of their day—whether it be a misplaced item or canceled activity—is changed.
They'd freak out if their partner stopped having sex. And believe lack of sex, or no sex at all in a relationships is a sign the relationships is gonna fail sooner or later. Even being "single" means sleeping around, bc despite not wanting the vulnerability that comes w a relationship they still need the "stimming". They'd go find it somewhere else if their partner stopped providing them w sex.
People living with autism spectrum disorder sometimes process sensory stimulation (e.g. sounds, colors, textures) with different intensity than neurotypical people.
This means they may have an extreme reaction—or no reaction at all—to sensory stimulants like loud sounds, bright lights, or pain.
The part abt beign "stimulated" by pain, does apply to sexuals as well. Since now they started promoting BDSM. They have extreme reaction to stuff that gets them horny, or no reaction when they're desensitized and then look for something more extreme. If that's not a disease...idk what is.
If you read the source material: 8 Signs And Symptoms Of Autism In Adults (meetmonarch.com) it all makes sense that sexuality is linked to autism.
People who are sexually active need a partner for the rest of their lives, and become sexually dependant on one person to fullfill their "needs". Autistic people are also dependant like that. They won't evolve unless they go without sex for weeks and/or months on end, and then they're like "I realize sex is not a need" (YEAH, no shit!!), "but celibacy is so hard boohoo!".
Some men kill women who reject them sexually bc they're unable to empathize w them as people, they're just an object of desire and that's it to them.
Others wont accept that some ppl don't want sex or relationships as much as they do bc they're projecting. And will even trespass your boundaries by forcing you into going on dates, etc...People who are addicted to something can't possibly conceive that someone could think differently. And that's the case of sexuals. I could find other examples, but i'm gonna let you sit w the info i provided in this post.
submitted by Amethyst709 to antisex [link] [comments]
I honestly believe sexuality is a disease, and unless you recognize it as such, it's gonna take over your life and your brain and you won't ever be able to feel well again.
For individuals with autism spectrum disorder, providing an “appropriate” emotional response or looking at things from someone else’s perspective can be challenging.
It kind of remind me when the topic of porn gets brought up. Everyone is just worried ab how it might affect the "quality" of sex they're having, and how it creates unrealistic expectations. There are even people who say they aren't agst it because it spices up their sex lives. Or that porn is necessary even, because it gives an outlet for lonely men (and women to a lesser extent) who would rape "real" women otherwise.
This belief that men's needs trump everything, and should be prioritized over other people's lives (mostly women's) is clearly a sign of a diseased society that lacks empathy and that needs a subcategory of people they can exploit to feed their sickness.
The fact that people are talking about how it's gonna effect their sex lives personally and their ability to feel pleasure instead of others who are being exploited and hurt just shows how narcissistic/egocentric sexuals are. It's all about them and their fleeting pleasure, and relationships.
They also need to portray sex as a need bc they can't conceive someone could think different, and constantly erase the existence of asexuals and antisexual people.
In addition to struggling with nonverbal communication, the “art of conversation” is often a difficulty for adults on the autism spectrum. This can present as someone dominating a conversation—rather than participating in a more typical back-and-forth.
They resort to insults and belittling when antisexuals give our opnion. "You need therapy" "you need counselling" "you're just an incel/femcel" "you're a virgin". It's not conducive to a conversation, this is just a way to shut us down completely bc as said earlier they can't handle another's point of view.
They struggle wih "nonverbal communication" bc they interpret everything and nothign as a sign of sexual interest (even just someone making (prolonged) eye contact).
Repetitive behaviors or "stimming" (this on is particularly telling)
Engaging in certain physical motions or making certain sounds repetitively can relieve stress or anxiety for an adult living with autism or ADHD.
This is self-stimulating behavior, also called “stimming,” and people with ADHD and throughout the neurotypical spectrum do it as well.
Sex is a repetitive behaviour, doing the same back and forth motion and making weird noises LOL. Also stimulation that they need constantly to feel well. Otherwise they claim to get anxious, stressed, can't focus, even become depressed, etc...
Strict adherence to a routine Individuals living with autism may become angry or upset when any detail of their day—whether it be a misplaced item or canceled activity—is changed.
They'd freak out if their partner stopped having sex. And believe lack of sex, or no sex at all in a relationships is a sign the relationships is gonna fail sooner or later. Even being "single" means sleeping around, bc despite not wanting the vulnerability that comes w a relationship they still need the "stimming". They'd go find it somewhere else if their partner stopped providing them w sex.
People living with autism spectrum disorder sometimes process sensory stimulation (e.g. sounds, colors, textures) with different intensity than neurotypical people.
This means they may have an extreme reaction—or no reaction at all—to sensory stimulants like loud sounds, bright lights, or pain.
The part abt beign "stimulated" by pain, does apply to sexuals as well. Since now they started promoting BDSM. They have extreme reaction to stuff that gets them horny, or no reaction when they're desensitized and then look for something more extreme. If that's not a disease...idk what is.
If you read the source material: 8 Signs And Symptoms Of Autism In Adults (meetmonarch.com) it all makes sense that sexuality is linked to autism.
People who are sexually active need a partner for the rest of their lives, and become sexually dependant on one person to fullfill their "needs". Autistic people are also dependant like that. They won't evolve unless they go without sex for weeks and/or months on end, and then they're like "I realize sex is not a need" (YEAH, no shit!!), "but celibacy is so hard boohoo!".
Some men kill women who reject them sexually bc they're unable to empathize w them as people, they're just an object of desire and that's it to them.
Others wont accept that some ppl don't want sex or relationships as much as they do bc they're projecting. And will even trespass your boundaries by forcing you into going on dates, etc...People who are addicted to something can't possibly conceive that someone could think differently. And that's the case of sexuals. I could find other examples, but i'm gonna let you sit w the info i provided in this post.
2023.04.02 11:13 Shota_Aizawa123 I was messing arsonist with AI and I had asked it to write me an alternative episode of MLB. L
I had used ChatOn.
Title: The Return of Hawk Moth
The episode starts with Adrien and Marinette hanging out at the park. Suddenly, they hear a loud noise and see a giant robot attacking the city. They quickly transform into Cat Noir and Ladybug to stop the robot. However, they soon realize that the robot is being controlled by none other than Hawk Moth.
Hawk Moth had returned and was more powerful than ever before. He had created a new akuma that could control technology, which he had used to take control of the robot. Ladybug and Cat Noir were no match for the robot, and they were soon defeated.
Hawk Moth then revealed his plan to Ladybug and Cat Noir. He wanted to take over the world and make it a better place. He believed that with his powers, he could create a perfect society where everyone would be happy and free from suffering.
Ladybug and Cat Noir refused to accept Hawk Moth's plan and fought back with all their might. They managed to destroy the robot and capture the akuma, but Hawk Moth escaped.
Ladybug and Cat Noir knew that they had to stop Hawk Moth before he could cause any more damage. They decided to seek the help of their friends and allies in order to defeat
submitted by Shota_Aizawa123 to miraculousladybug [link] [comments]
Title: The Return of Hawk Moth
The episode starts with Adrien and Marinette hanging out at the park. Suddenly, they hear a loud noise and see a giant robot attacking the city. They quickly transform into Cat Noir and Ladybug to stop the robot. However, they soon realize that the robot is being controlled by none other than Hawk Moth.
Hawk Moth had returned and was more powerful than ever before. He had created a new akuma that could control technology, which he had used to take control of the robot. Ladybug and Cat Noir were no match for the robot, and they were soon defeated.
Hawk Moth then revealed his plan to Ladybug and Cat Noir. He wanted to take over the world and make it a better place. He believed that with his powers, he could create a perfect society where everyone would be happy and free from suffering.
Ladybug and Cat Noir refused to accept Hawk Moth's plan and fought back with all their might. They managed to destroy the robot and capture the akuma, but Hawk Moth escaped.
Ladybug and Cat Noir knew that they had to stop Hawk Moth before he could cause any more damage. They decided to seek the help of their friends and allies in order to defeat
2023.04.02 11:11 Shatter_Their_World The Buzz part 6
Hello, darlings, from Helena the Clown. I decided to tell you a thing that has happened to me. After that life changing night before Christmas, (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5) I decided to step down for a bit and just rest. Take a break. Sleep in my cozy coffin my Vampire sleep. Be a little lazy. Something normal, for both us the immortals and for mortals alike. Especially after all the ordeal of that night.
I have to admit, when I had to write it all down, I kind of relieved it. And since it took me more to write it than to live it first hand, I had to return to it over and over, until my mind felt sour. But I needed to tell the story, it felt that I had to.
The psychedelic rollercoaster of that night was an experiment of the SRI (Romanian secret service) alongside the CIA, as the agent I caught told me. Was the experiment successful for them? I do not know. Both me and Sophie, the lovely Elf I met that night, who was a collateral victim of it, waited to see any signs from those bastards. Especially since their weapons were able to give a huge power to demons over us. Nothing clear was seen, on the outside, but our souls were heavy on residue, like some thick goo on them, that needed time to wash away. Yet, signs of slow healing are visible, albeit slow.
On the other hand, from time to time, I felt some mental ”breeze”. It felt like one of those attacks I experienced, the beginning of it, but dissipating fast. Some went harder than the rest. I talked to Sophie, it seems she had experienced those as well. The Buzz itself did not seem to get the proportions of that night so we can not tell if there are still some agents on us, or just some demons playing around, or our scars, or a combination of those. My ”gut feeling”, something I do not (mostly) rely upon, told me that, most likely, it was not a Human work. At least, not by agents or special drones, like that night.
Christmas was peaceful, my first Christmas I celebrated as a Christian since I became a Vampire. My confessor, father George Baka, the exorcist, managed to give me Holy Communion, after hiding me close to the church, in order not to inflict panic on my presence there for his Human parishioners. My dear friend Ruxandra drove me in and out of the village in Ialomița county. As I was back in Bucharest and Ruxandra spent some time with her boyfriend, I met Sophie at night at the Circus Park a few days after, where it all ended, after finding a way to get Vampire magic and Elven magic to work together.
Her parents were dead scared, they wanted to convince Sophie to leave Romania for the UK, in order to stay safe. It seems her mother was mostly afraid of the SRI, the descendent of the former communist political police, the Securitate, most of all. Sophie did not want to, since whatever happened in Romania could happen in the UK, hence the involvement of the CIA made it an international matter. And, besides, Sophie felt safer in here, where I resided and where so many Caterpillar Elves like her were, Elves she wanted to awake. She dressed up the whole time as a Christmas Elf (Yeah, some may say it was silly, but she enjoyed it.), even spoke to kids on Elves. Cannot blame her. She can have enough time in her immortal life to be a Full, ”serious” Elf.
Indeed, something happened. If it didn„t, I would not be writing this now. Father George decided to perform Holy Liturgy on the night of January the first, which is the secular New Year, like he used to do in the years before, especially since January the first this year was on sunday. Most people would stay up, party and skip church that morning. So, he did it at night, so that at least some will come, then start to party a little. Most will not come.
Ruxandra drove there, outside Bucharest, as usual. Since my presence would cause havoc, I was supposed to stay close by, not inside the church, with the people who will attend. Ruxandra asked me to help tune up her laptop, on which a fresh Linux installation was made. Since I knew Linux better than her, who is a lifelong Windows user, and her boyfriend was a Macbook type of guy, I decided to make myself useful a bit, before Holy Liturgy. Adrian came with us, still a bit uneasy about my presence in the car. We came out pretty early. I had the idea of going into the graveyard, where we used to spend time myself, Ruxandra and father George, in late summer and early autumn. Since both me and Ruxandra were supposed to take Holy Communion later that night, we needed to stop eating after midnight. After greeting father George, I decided to get to the graveyard, where there is a temporary plastic kiosk, somewhere near the corner of the graveyard. It was a pretty clean, countryside graveyard, nothing great or fancy.
I was dressed in one of my black belle epoque dresses, with a matching hat, this time. For a Vampire like me, winter cold is far better tolerated than for mortals, but even ourselves have our own limits. Ruxandra came with her laptop, Adrian followed her. People were gathering at church, as Father George performed a Lity. Ruxandra wanted to stay with me but, as she was visibly disturbed by the cold, I told her to get inside. In fact, if it weren't for my friends and Father George, I would have stayed at home in Bucharest, alone, as I do not care too much for the secular New Year. In order to get things going, Ruxandra came with Adrian„s Macbook and we managed to set up a small network, using her phone as well, in order we would be able to get online. She stayed with me a bit, then went to the church for Lity, and let me mind my own doing.
Yep, it was cold, even I found gloves useful. I spent decades in my grave, hibernating, but that was a special state, pretty different from the one when I am awake and active. I am pretty cold and harsh, but not that much not to feel the cold at all. I started installing and configuring some software from repositories into Ruxandra„s laptop. As night passed, kids around the village started to blow firecrackers and small fireworks on a large scale, it felt like war. I liked it, I admit it, the war flavor of it. I felt like going to them and playing along, but I could not, of course. They have not entered the graveyard, fortunately, although some firecrackers fell inside it. Poor dogs started to bark and howl of that noise.
Meanwhile, I managed to install Tor Browser, to get on the Dark Web. You know, you can meet some real Vampires there, if you know where to look. At first, when I discovered it, in the months after waking up from my decades of hibernation, in July 2021, alongside things like creepypasta, the world felt far more interesting on the dark side then today. As you may imagine, it was hard to distinguish at first creepypasta from real things, I am sure sometimes it is harder even for someone who was born and lived in this age to do it. Fortunately, I grew more experienced on this pretty fast. No one I could talk to from those hidden online communities was logged in, as it seemed, so I decided to start digging up some things regarding the effects on infrasounds.
Midnight came. I did not feel excited or anything, neither too sad. Perhaps just a little sad. Humans were having fun in the streets, explosions and stuff. Since the Holy Liturgy started, I stopped working on the laptop itself, and tried to listen to psaltical chants on Youtube. I admit I got bored fast, and went to my regular music. Earphones on maximum level, as I usually like to listen (I know, it is bad to do it for long.). I started to feel a little drowsy and sleepy. Probably something was at work at this point, as it was not normal for me (or my kind) to feel sleepy at night. At some point, I placed my head on the table and listened to the music with my eyes closed. My head was inside the hotspot, inside the wifi medium, but I did not realize it. I let myself drift into sleep, thinking that Ruxandra would wake me up.
I do not know how, Youtube seems moody at times regarding the autoplay, on being turned on and off. I usually keep it off. As I was signed in with my Google account, it seems it started to play things as I was sleeping, random stuff. I went on for about an hour and a half.
Eventually, I woke up. Some kind of ASMR or white noise clip was playing, a grey screen, looking a bit like static on an old black and white TV. The sound sounded a bit like that as well, but not exactly. I said something like ”ASMR Relaxing static for deep sleep”. I turned it off, as I was shaking sleepiness off from my mind. The outside was pretty silent, just some crackers from time to time. It was a feeling of things being a bit off. I do not know how to put it, the flavor of reality was off. A feeling that was a little familiar, since that night not too long ago. I was not too concerned, still, since it was not too strong, we have not noticed anything coming here. Indeed, a was a little troubled by this, but not as much as a mortal would have been, being alone, at night, in a graveyard. For me, it was a place and a time that I was in tune with. Perhaps, If I were Human, I would have had a better attitude in that situation. I started to say the Jesus Prayer a bit, and started to walk towards the church. As I was getting closer and felt better, I started to let my guard down and let my thoughts go loose.
I do not know what is the clear border between a thought and an attitude. I am not a psychologist, just my own rambling here. I think some thoughts work at the edge between the conscious and the unconscious, since they manifest in attitudes, even if the conscious does not want to admit them. Those are not just some deep unconscious processes, they are closer to the surface, so to say. Indeed, before Adam and Eve fell, they had no unconscious part of their souls, after the fall they lost sight of a large part of themselves. Only those very spiritually advanced can truly become fully aware of themselves, and turn the whole unconscious into conscious. Of course, I am not one of them.
Looking back at those moments, some things are blurry. I was not asleep, for sure, yet it felt a bit like a sleep-like state, the bizarreness of all. It seems some thoughts were moving from conscious to this semiconscious part, back and forth, not all at the same time. I was walking stiffer than I usually do (And I do walk pretty stiff usually.). There was something, I do not remember exactly how much I was aware of, I felt I needed to get closer to the church and away from the kiosk in the graveyard. I started to feel a bit, only a bit, like at the moments during that night, when I felt alone in the whole world. Not strong enough to have a strong attitude, it would have been better if the feeling was stronger.
I got close to the church, lights were on, but it was silent, like empty. Familiar feeling, but not too intense. I looked back at the graves, something felt new. Unreal in a new way. All this was still faint, for now. I heard some noises on the other side of the graveyard. Then I had a thought that some kids may enter the graveyard and steal the laptops and rest. Something from my mind was saying to stop, not to go into the weird, unreal darkness from there. But I brushed it out, being too faint, unfortunately for me. I went back towards that place.
As I would later find out, at this point, the Holy Liturgy was over, just a small snack for the people inside, Ruxandra was getting ready to come to me, outside, she just waited for the people to leave the church. She heard something outside, and felt my presence faintly. She decided to come out, to see if I had come too early. By the time she was out, I was already on my way back to the kiosk, she saw me from a distance. The sky was unusually dark on one side, and a feeling of a new unease was in the air. She started to go slowly towards the kiosk as well.
I walked into the viscous air. Viscous, again. But I was like under anesthesia or on some drugs. Maybe my state was akin to sleepwalking? I was not sleepwalking, for sure, but it felt only a bit like it, if it makes sense. What came next, in the next minute (or minutes) happened on that semiconscious level. I was forcing myself to get into the viscous thing, I would not call it air. Things were like getting blacker, but not physically. I felt worse and worse as I was getting closer to the kiosk. But as I felt worse, a part of my mind fought to keep it semiconscious, not to become aware. Was something taking over me, at least a bit? I do not know. It was like I was heading to my doom, but I was so afraid to admit to myself, so I struggled to ignore that I was doing just that.
The kiosk was in sight. Silence around me, a silence that seemed to stretch for miles. Or more. I was getting close to the kiosk, the alley went from the kiosk, and it crossed another alley near it, the kiosk was towards my left-front. Things got really black and, without knowing it, the blackness turned into something visible.
I do not know how long it all took. One second, maybe a few? The alley was blocked by something that looked like some kind of black curtain, blocking the normal reality. It was a physical blackness, for sure, but it contained more than that. It had vertical folds in it, like a physical curtain. I could not say how large it was, sideways and up, it covered the full front of my eyes, I did not have the time to check my peripheral vision, and up it covered much of the clear sky. I knew it was something that came from hell, no doubt about it. I knew I had no chance of running away, as it was too close, too big and too powerful. I was at its mercy. My heart soon became overwhelmed, my mind was soon to follow. On my last moment of consciousness, I let myself to the Lord, as nothing else could be done, realistically speaking. I fused this in an iconic gesture of prosternation, semiconsciously. I let myself fall to my knees and stop my head from hitting the ground with my palms.
At this time, Ruxandra noticed a black mist starting to gather like a small tower of mist. It was not thick, at least it appeared to her like this. As seconds passed, the mist grew thicker, while she noticed me stopping in my tracks, distantly, then the stars were not visible anymore and something she could not describe took over the sky. An emptiness. Yet, it seems all of it was less intense than for me, not just because of the distance, but some other reason. Perhaps her Human nature, or the fact that she was exposed to the things I have exposed to in the kiosk? Fear inside her started to escalate to panic.
As I went on knees, I layed completely down, face down. The last thing I saw was that the lower edge of the curtain arose in a fold, on the ground and was sent towards me, covering me. I started screaming inside of my mind the Jesus Prayer, as Ruxandra lost it at this point and just screamed.
That thing, whatever it was, started to take me in gradually, but in a matter of a second, the most, if it makes sense. It felt like being taken up from the ground, at the mercy of that. I kept saying the Jesus prayer, trying to hold on, albeit it was harder and harder. I was inside a bubble of demonic power, this meant no way I would be able not to lose it on my own. Kept saying the Jesus Prayer, as things were speeding up. Something in the back of my mind kept saying: ”Hold on just a little… Just a little…” So I did, I held onto the prayer. Then I do not remember. I think it was like slipping into sleep.
Ruxandra was close to being broken, as she fell to her knees too. As I realized later on, after I talked to her, the first impulse was to run. But I was there, with that thing, and she refused to leave me there alone. Even if this was something she never experienced before, something of this magnitude. I can tell you, for a Human Ruxandra is pretty resilient to darkness. Many Humans, even grown men, just fail when they meet me. Just me, nothing stronger or darker. I never heard her scream of fear ever. Strong stock. So you can imagine at this point, at least loosely, how bad this was. But my friend stayed for me. Even if this could have been her doom. Even if all her instincts told her that was doom. Fortunately, she remembered not to look into the mist, after a few seconds, and that she needed to start the Jesus Prayer.
In a few seconds, after letting the forehead to the ground and closing the eyes, she was into it as well. Starting to feel lifted, as things were going faster and faster. At some point, Ruxandra„s mind went blank as well.
Fortunately, her screams were heard by father George and the rest who were still inside the church. He exited in a hurry, and people followed. They saw something tall and dark, that seemed to look a bit like a tornado, twisted in the middle. Father George started the exorcism formulas of Saint Basil the Great. Several people started to scream and ran away inside the church, some on the gate, into the street, as father George came bravely upon that, not looking at it. Adrian heard his voice going stronger and stronger as she went closer.
As he came close to touching the blackness, it started to retreat. He persisted into going further, cursing the powers of hell, and the thing started to back out (Technically to back up). The darkness went up and fading, seeing me and Ruxandra on the ground, holding each other, our eyes being closed and whispering the Jesus Prayer faintly. He did not stop until the night was clear.
He came close to us, gently touching our heads. Ruxandra gave a sigh and became silent. I opened my eyes and came to my senses. In a few seconds, my dear friend was awake as well. The night was back to its sweetness, the old graveyard as well, the place where I felt so cozy, like being caressed by a gentle ghost.
We looked at father George, as things started to come back to me. Ruxandra held on to me, as she started to realize as well that it was over. We were protected, as our minds blacked out. We did not remember how we ended up hugged. I whispered to her: ”Praise The Lord. It is gone…” Then, after a few seconds of silence: ”Are you ok? Let's get up.” Father George gave us his strong smile: ”If you ok, let's hurry. We shall not let Christ wait for us. I think the best way now is to go to the side of the church (the south of the church), to calm down people who are still inside, as well as those who fled.”
I got up, helped Ruxandra get up, got my clothes cleaned a bit, and waited for father George to call people back to the church. On a moment when the way was clear, we proceeded into the side and got to the altar side door.
As father George tried to bring people back, me and Ruxandra looked at each other. She was still shaken when I asked: ”Are you ok, sis?” She gave a calm sigh: ”It seems so… I am surprisingly well, after all it just was…” ”I feel you on this… I am surprisingly unaffected. I am not well but, if I remember what just happened, I was supposed to be a mess.” ”Yeah, indeed…” ”We were protected, I think. No way could we have made it on our own and be so unscathed. We need to thank The Lord.” I gave her another hug. We waited then in silence for things to calm down, it took about 15 minutes.
Father George came out of the side door to give us Holy Communion, the Body and Blood of our Lord. Ruxandra wanted to wait for me, instead of having Communion alongside the people in the church. After this moment, it felt like the last claw of that thing was gone, but it's leftovers remained, like scattered around. Yet, when Christ Himself comes to you, all those seem less than meek.
After getting inside, father George tried to get the people to stay and finish eating, but many of them left early, and this made the rest go with them pretty fast. While this happened, we talked a little. Ruxandra started: ”Those Cones, this was one of those, isn't it?” ”Probably I can say that it was. It felt somewhat like them, but not exactly.” She started telling me how it felt for her, then I told her how it was for me. She went on: ”I want to look into what you were listening to on those earphones, while you were sleeping. YouTube history.” ”Do you want to go back to all that? Being Human, you are more feeble than me.” ”There is something going on. I want to get to the bottom of it.”
Father George interrupted us: ”You just received The Lord and you are talking about His enemies? Come on, chill down and get inside.” White we ate, he did not allow us to speak too much of it. Then, he suggested we take a rest a bit, and sleep where he prepared for us. Then Adrian and father George collected all the devices from the kiosk and they were all shut down.
The next day, after we were all home, Sophie and her family came to father George, to get the Exorcism formulas performed on them, since Sophie was the subject of the work of hell that night. According to the old custom, the Exorcism Formulas of Saint Basil are performed not just in case of necessity, but also during the day of his feast, January the first. Unfortunately, most priests do not perform this ritual on this day anymore.
I met Odette, the mother of Sophie. We managed to get an interesting talk. But that is a story of in it„s own right. What I can tell you yet about her is that she was too a Caterpillar Elf.
Adrian, on his own, checked the YouTube history of the device, there were some weird things in there. Some of the clips appeared to be deleted, the last one was not. It became clear that they were taken down one by one. He woke up later the day before Ruxandra did, in a sleep paralysis experience.
I checked my Youtube account history as well. I dared not to listen to those still there. In case any of you shall ask for the link to those on DM, as I am sure many would want to, I will not share it, as I do not want to be responsible for what would happen.
There are, still, some things I would share with you, perhaps I shall do it, if I shall have the energy. There were some rough months for me. There are many things that can get you down in this world, not all are supernatural, many are just mundane crap that could bring down even a strong Vampire or Elf. But I shall try my best.
Take care of you and your loved ones. See you soon.
I blow you a kiss (not a bite),
Helena
submitted by Shatter_Their_World to Helena_The_Doll_Clown [link] [comments]
I have to admit, when I had to write it all down, I kind of relieved it. And since it took me more to write it than to live it first hand, I had to return to it over and over, until my mind felt sour. But I needed to tell the story, it felt that I had to.
The psychedelic rollercoaster of that night was an experiment of the SRI (Romanian secret service) alongside the CIA, as the agent I caught told me. Was the experiment successful for them? I do not know. Both me and Sophie, the lovely Elf I met that night, who was a collateral victim of it, waited to see any signs from those bastards. Especially since their weapons were able to give a huge power to demons over us. Nothing clear was seen, on the outside, but our souls were heavy on residue, like some thick goo on them, that needed time to wash away. Yet, signs of slow healing are visible, albeit slow.
On the other hand, from time to time, I felt some mental ”breeze”. It felt like one of those attacks I experienced, the beginning of it, but dissipating fast. Some went harder than the rest. I talked to Sophie, it seems she had experienced those as well. The Buzz itself did not seem to get the proportions of that night so we can not tell if there are still some agents on us, or just some demons playing around, or our scars, or a combination of those. My ”gut feeling”, something I do not (mostly) rely upon, told me that, most likely, it was not a Human work. At least, not by agents or special drones, like that night.
Christmas was peaceful, my first Christmas I celebrated as a Christian since I became a Vampire. My confessor, father George Baka, the exorcist, managed to give me Holy Communion, after hiding me close to the church, in order not to inflict panic on my presence there for his Human parishioners. My dear friend Ruxandra drove me in and out of the village in Ialomița county. As I was back in Bucharest and Ruxandra spent some time with her boyfriend, I met Sophie at night at the Circus Park a few days after, where it all ended, after finding a way to get Vampire magic and Elven magic to work together.
Her parents were dead scared, they wanted to convince Sophie to leave Romania for the UK, in order to stay safe. It seems her mother was mostly afraid of the SRI, the descendent of the former communist political police, the Securitate, most of all. Sophie did not want to, since whatever happened in Romania could happen in the UK, hence the involvement of the CIA made it an international matter. And, besides, Sophie felt safer in here, where I resided and where so many Caterpillar Elves like her were, Elves she wanted to awake. She dressed up the whole time as a Christmas Elf (Yeah, some may say it was silly, but she enjoyed it.), even spoke to kids on Elves. Cannot blame her. She can have enough time in her immortal life to be a Full, ”serious” Elf.
Indeed, something happened. If it didn„t, I would not be writing this now. Father George decided to perform Holy Liturgy on the night of January the first, which is the secular New Year, like he used to do in the years before, especially since January the first this year was on sunday. Most people would stay up, party and skip church that morning. So, he did it at night, so that at least some will come, then start to party a little. Most will not come.
Ruxandra drove there, outside Bucharest, as usual. Since my presence would cause havoc, I was supposed to stay close by, not inside the church, with the people who will attend. Ruxandra asked me to help tune up her laptop, on which a fresh Linux installation was made. Since I knew Linux better than her, who is a lifelong Windows user, and her boyfriend was a Macbook type of guy, I decided to make myself useful a bit, before Holy Liturgy. Adrian came with us, still a bit uneasy about my presence in the car. We came out pretty early. I had the idea of going into the graveyard, where we used to spend time myself, Ruxandra and father George, in late summer and early autumn. Since both me and Ruxandra were supposed to take Holy Communion later that night, we needed to stop eating after midnight. After greeting father George, I decided to get to the graveyard, where there is a temporary plastic kiosk, somewhere near the corner of the graveyard. It was a pretty clean, countryside graveyard, nothing great or fancy.
I was dressed in one of my black belle epoque dresses, with a matching hat, this time. For a Vampire like me, winter cold is far better tolerated than for mortals, but even ourselves have our own limits. Ruxandra came with her laptop, Adrian followed her. People were gathering at church, as Father George performed a Lity. Ruxandra wanted to stay with me but, as she was visibly disturbed by the cold, I told her to get inside. In fact, if it weren't for my friends and Father George, I would have stayed at home in Bucharest, alone, as I do not care too much for the secular New Year. In order to get things going, Ruxandra came with Adrian„s Macbook and we managed to set up a small network, using her phone as well, in order we would be able to get online. She stayed with me a bit, then went to the church for Lity, and let me mind my own doing.
Yep, it was cold, even I found gloves useful. I spent decades in my grave, hibernating, but that was a special state, pretty different from the one when I am awake and active. I am pretty cold and harsh, but not that much not to feel the cold at all. I started installing and configuring some software from repositories into Ruxandra„s laptop. As night passed, kids around the village started to blow firecrackers and small fireworks on a large scale, it felt like war. I liked it, I admit it, the war flavor of it. I felt like going to them and playing along, but I could not, of course. They have not entered the graveyard, fortunately, although some firecrackers fell inside it. Poor dogs started to bark and howl of that noise.
Meanwhile, I managed to install Tor Browser, to get on the Dark Web. You know, you can meet some real Vampires there, if you know where to look. At first, when I discovered it, in the months after waking up from my decades of hibernation, in July 2021, alongside things like creepypasta, the world felt far more interesting on the dark side then today. As you may imagine, it was hard to distinguish at first creepypasta from real things, I am sure sometimes it is harder even for someone who was born and lived in this age to do it. Fortunately, I grew more experienced on this pretty fast. No one I could talk to from those hidden online communities was logged in, as it seemed, so I decided to start digging up some things regarding the effects on infrasounds.
Midnight came. I did not feel excited or anything, neither too sad. Perhaps just a little sad. Humans were having fun in the streets, explosions and stuff. Since the Holy Liturgy started, I stopped working on the laptop itself, and tried to listen to psaltical chants on Youtube. I admit I got bored fast, and went to my regular music. Earphones on maximum level, as I usually like to listen (I know, it is bad to do it for long.). I started to feel a little drowsy and sleepy. Probably something was at work at this point, as it was not normal for me (or my kind) to feel sleepy at night. At some point, I placed my head on the table and listened to the music with my eyes closed. My head was inside the hotspot, inside the wifi medium, but I did not realize it. I let myself drift into sleep, thinking that Ruxandra would wake me up.
I do not know how, Youtube seems moody at times regarding the autoplay, on being turned on and off. I usually keep it off. As I was signed in with my Google account, it seems it started to play things as I was sleeping, random stuff. I went on for about an hour and a half.
Eventually, I woke up. Some kind of ASMR or white noise clip was playing, a grey screen, looking a bit like static on an old black and white TV. The sound sounded a bit like that as well, but not exactly. I said something like ”ASMR Relaxing static for deep sleep”. I turned it off, as I was shaking sleepiness off from my mind. The outside was pretty silent, just some crackers from time to time. It was a feeling of things being a bit off. I do not know how to put it, the flavor of reality was off. A feeling that was a little familiar, since that night not too long ago. I was not too concerned, still, since it was not too strong, we have not noticed anything coming here. Indeed, a was a little troubled by this, but not as much as a mortal would have been, being alone, at night, in a graveyard. For me, it was a place and a time that I was in tune with. Perhaps, If I were Human, I would have had a better attitude in that situation. I started to say the Jesus Prayer a bit, and started to walk towards the church. As I was getting closer and felt better, I started to let my guard down and let my thoughts go loose.
I do not know what is the clear border between a thought and an attitude. I am not a psychologist, just my own rambling here. I think some thoughts work at the edge between the conscious and the unconscious, since they manifest in attitudes, even if the conscious does not want to admit them. Those are not just some deep unconscious processes, they are closer to the surface, so to say. Indeed, before Adam and Eve fell, they had no unconscious part of their souls, after the fall they lost sight of a large part of themselves. Only those very spiritually advanced can truly become fully aware of themselves, and turn the whole unconscious into conscious. Of course, I am not one of them.
Looking back at those moments, some things are blurry. I was not asleep, for sure, yet it felt a bit like a sleep-like state, the bizarreness of all. It seems some thoughts were moving from conscious to this semiconscious part, back and forth, not all at the same time. I was walking stiffer than I usually do (And I do walk pretty stiff usually.). There was something, I do not remember exactly how much I was aware of, I felt I needed to get closer to the church and away from the kiosk in the graveyard. I started to feel a bit, only a bit, like at the moments during that night, when I felt alone in the whole world. Not strong enough to have a strong attitude, it would have been better if the feeling was stronger.
I got close to the church, lights were on, but it was silent, like empty. Familiar feeling, but not too intense. I looked back at the graves, something felt new. Unreal in a new way. All this was still faint, for now. I heard some noises on the other side of the graveyard. Then I had a thought that some kids may enter the graveyard and steal the laptops and rest. Something from my mind was saying to stop, not to go into the weird, unreal darkness from there. But I brushed it out, being too faint, unfortunately for me. I went back towards that place.
As I would later find out, at this point, the Holy Liturgy was over, just a small snack for the people inside, Ruxandra was getting ready to come to me, outside, she just waited for the people to leave the church. She heard something outside, and felt my presence faintly. She decided to come out, to see if I had come too early. By the time she was out, I was already on my way back to the kiosk, she saw me from a distance. The sky was unusually dark on one side, and a feeling of a new unease was in the air. She started to go slowly towards the kiosk as well.
I walked into the viscous air. Viscous, again. But I was like under anesthesia or on some drugs. Maybe my state was akin to sleepwalking? I was not sleepwalking, for sure, but it felt only a bit like it, if it makes sense. What came next, in the next minute (or minutes) happened on that semiconscious level. I was forcing myself to get into the viscous thing, I would not call it air. Things were like getting blacker, but not physically. I felt worse and worse as I was getting closer to the kiosk. But as I felt worse, a part of my mind fought to keep it semiconscious, not to become aware. Was something taking over me, at least a bit? I do not know. It was like I was heading to my doom, but I was so afraid to admit to myself, so I struggled to ignore that I was doing just that.
The kiosk was in sight. Silence around me, a silence that seemed to stretch for miles. Or more. I was getting close to the kiosk, the alley went from the kiosk, and it crossed another alley near it, the kiosk was towards my left-front. Things got really black and, without knowing it, the blackness turned into something visible.
I do not know how long it all took. One second, maybe a few? The alley was blocked by something that looked like some kind of black curtain, blocking the normal reality. It was a physical blackness, for sure, but it contained more than that. It had vertical folds in it, like a physical curtain. I could not say how large it was, sideways and up, it covered the full front of my eyes, I did not have the time to check my peripheral vision, and up it covered much of the clear sky. I knew it was something that came from hell, no doubt about it. I knew I had no chance of running away, as it was too close, too big and too powerful. I was at its mercy. My heart soon became overwhelmed, my mind was soon to follow. On my last moment of consciousness, I let myself to the Lord, as nothing else could be done, realistically speaking. I fused this in an iconic gesture of prosternation, semiconsciously. I let myself fall to my knees and stop my head from hitting the ground with my palms.
At this time, Ruxandra noticed a black mist starting to gather like a small tower of mist. It was not thick, at least it appeared to her like this. As seconds passed, the mist grew thicker, while she noticed me stopping in my tracks, distantly, then the stars were not visible anymore and something she could not describe took over the sky. An emptiness. Yet, it seems all of it was less intense than for me, not just because of the distance, but some other reason. Perhaps her Human nature, or the fact that she was exposed to the things I have exposed to in the kiosk? Fear inside her started to escalate to panic.
As I went on knees, I layed completely down, face down. The last thing I saw was that the lower edge of the curtain arose in a fold, on the ground and was sent towards me, covering me. I started screaming inside of my mind the Jesus Prayer, as Ruxandra lost it at this point and just screamed.
That thing, whatever it was, started to take me in gradually, but in a matter of a second, the most, if it makes sense. It felt like being taken up from the ground, at the mercy of that. I kept saying the Jesus prayer, trying to hold on, albeit it was harder and harder. I was inside a bubble of demonic power, this meant no way I would be able not to lose it on my own. Kept saying the Jesus Prayer, as things were speeding up. Something in the back of my mind kept saying: ”Hold on just a little… Just a little…” So I did, I held onto the prayer. Then I do not remember. I think it was like slipping into sleep.
Ruxandra was close to being broken, as she fell to her knees too. As I realized later on, after I talked to her, the first impulse was to run. But I was there, with that thing, and she refused to leave me there alone. Even if this was something she never experienced before, something of this magnitude. I can tell you, for a Human Ruxandra is pretty resilient to darkness. Many Humans, even grown men, just fail when they meet me. Just me, nothing stronger or darker. I never heard her scream of fear ever. Strong stock. So you can imagine at this point, at least loosely, how bad this was. But my friend stayed for me. Even if this could have been her doom. Even if all her instincts told her that was doom. Fortunately, she remembered not to look into the mist, after a few seconds, and that she needed to start the Jesus Prayer.
In a few seconds, after letting the forehead to the ground and closing the eyes, she was into it as well. Starting to feel lifted, as things were going faster and faster. At some point, Ruxandra„s mind went blank as well.
Fortunately, her screams were heard by father George and the rest who were still inside the church. He exited in a hurry, and people followed. They saw something tall and dark, that seemed to look a bit like a tornado, twisted in the middle. Father George started the exorcism formulas of Saint Basil the Great. Several people started to scream and ran away inside the church, some on the gate, into the street, as father George came bravely upon that, not looking at it. Adrian heard his voice going stronger and stronger as she went closer.
As he came close to touching the blackness, it started to retreat. He persisted into going further, cursing the powers of hell, and the thing started to back out (Technically to back up). The darkness went up and fading, seeing me and Ruxandra on the ground, holding each other, our eyes being closed and whispering the Jesus Prayer faintly. He did not stop until the night was clear.
He came close to us, gently touching our heads. Ruxandra gave a sigh and became silent. I opened my eyes and came to my senses. In a few seconds, my dear friend was awake as well. The night was back to its sweetness, the old graveyard as well, the place where I felt so cozy, like being caressed by a gentle ghost.
We looked at father George, as things started to come back to me. Ruxandra held on to me, as she started to realize as well that it was over. We were protected, as our minds blacked out. We did not remember how we ended up hugged. I whispered to her: ”Praise The Lord. It is gone…” Then, after a few seconds of silence: ”Are you ok? Let's get up.” Father George gave us his strong smile: ”If you ok, let's hurry. We shall not let Christ wait for us. I think the best way now is to go to the side of the church (the south of the church), to calm down people who are still inside, as well as those who fled.”
I got up, helped Ruxandra get up, got my clothes cleaned a bit, and waited for father George to call people back to the church. On a moment when the way was clear, we proceeded into the side and got to the altar side door.
As father George tried to bring people back, me and Ruxandra looked at each other. She was still shaken when I asked: ”Are you ok, sis?” She gave a calm sigh: ”It seems so… I am surprisingly well, after all it just was…” ”I feel you on this… I am surprisingly unaffected. I am not well but, if I remember what just happened, I was supposed to be a mess.” ”Yeah, indeed…” ”We were protected, I think. No way could we have made it on our own and be so unscathed. We need to thank The Lord.” I gave her another hug. We waited then in silence for things to calm down, it took about 15 minutes.
Father George came out of the side door to give us Holy Communion, the Body and Blood of our Lord. Ruxandra wanted to wait for me, instead of having Communion alongside the people in the church. After this moment, it felt like the last claw of that thing was gone, but it's leftovers remained, like scattered around. Yet, when Christ Himself comes to you, all those seem less than meek.
After getting inside, father George tried to get the people to stay and finish eating, but many of them left early, and this made the rest go with them pretty fast. While this happened, we talked a little. Ruxandra started: ”Those Cones, this was one of those, isn't it?” ”Probably I can say that it was. It felt somewhat like them, but not exactly.” She started telling me how it felt for her, then I told her how it was for me. She went on: ”I want to look into what you were listening to on those earphones, while you were sleeping. YouTube history.” ”Do you want to go back to all that? Being Human, you are more feeble than me.” ”There is something going on. I want to get to the bottom of it.”
Father George interrupted us: ”You just received The Lord and you are talking about His enemies? Come on, chill down and get inside.” White we ate, he did not allow us to speak too much of it. Then, he suggested we take a rest a bit, and sleep where he prepared for us. Then Adrian and father George collected all the devices from the kiosk and they were all shut down.
The next day, after we were all home, Sophie and her family came to father George, to get the Exorcism formulas performed on them, since Sophie was the subject of the work of hell that night. According to the old custom, the Exorcism Formulas of Saint Basil are performed not just in case of necessity, but also during the day of his feast, January the first. Unfortunately, most priests do not perform this ritual on this day anymore.
I met Odette, the mother of Sophie. We managed to get an interesting talk. But that is a story of in it„s own right. What I can tell you yet about her is that she was too a Caterpillar Elf.
Adrian, on his own, checked the YouTube history of the device, there were some weird things in there. Some of the clips appeared to be deleted, the last one was not. It became clear that they were taken down one by one. He woke up later the day before Ruxandra did, in a sleep paralysis experience.
I checked my Youtube account history as well. I dared not to listen to those still there. In case any of you shall ask for the link to those on DM, as I am sure many would want to, I will not share it, as I do not want to be responsible for what would happen.
There are, still, some things I would share with you, perhaps I shall do it, if I shall have the energy. There were some rough months for me. There are many things that can get you down in this world, not all are supernatural, many are just mundane crap that could bring down even a strong Vampire or Elf. But I shall try my best.
Take care of you and your loved ones. See you soon.
I blow you a kiss (not a bite),
Helena
2023.04.02 10:51 Few_Choice_3270 Xiaomi Air Purifier 4 Compact VS 4 Lite
Hey, I'm looking for an Air Purifier for the first time but don't know which one will be good for me
I'm living in a 20 Square/Meter apartment and those are my requirements:
Which one do you recommend I buy?
Does anyone use any of the models I mentioned and can give me an honest opinion?
Thanks in advance :)
submitted by Few_Choice_3270 to AirPurifiers [link] [comments]
I'm living in a 20 Square/Meter apartment and those are my requirements:
- Small-Average device size.
- Can filter air dust particles(I have TONS of that) because I'm allergic to dust mites.
- Have silent mode or do not make loud noises in the first place.
Which one do you recommend I buy?
Does anyone use any of the models I mentioned and can give me an honest opinion?
Thanks in advance :)
2023.04.02 10:32 cetacean-station Partner keeps making decisions they regret
Hey so i don't really have anyone else to tell about this but I'm feeling kinda helpless. My partner & i have been together a year and a half, and she's been going through a really bad depressive episode for the last 2 months or so.
Recently she's been making some pretty significant life decisions. i was supportive, because she seemed so sure of them when she made them. I'm kinda sad I didn't speak up a little more about my reservations, cuz i had a few, i just really didn't know she wasn't as certain as she sounded.
One notable thing she did was to sign a lease to an apartment that's well over her budget, bc she's been wanting to find a roommate for a long time (i already have my own place and we want to live separately).
It should have set off red flags to me that this place is in a neighborhood she'd already ruled out several months ago... it's got a bunch of college dorms nearby, which produce quite a bit of noise. Today, she moved in, and sure enough, it's loud. And she hasn't found a roomie yet either, so she's kinda in over her head.
She was super upset this evening and kept asking me "Why? Why am i making such bad decisions?" She said she can't trust herself anymore.
I wanted to be like, yo, you've been depressed for two straight months, and you wanted to make some changes in your life, so you did. Maybe these weren't the best changes to make, but we will make the best of it.
I just wish she would get some help. It's really hard to see her crashing and burning, but this is beyond my expertise. I'm just sad, I miss her, I wish she would come back.
submitted by cetacean-station to depression_partners [link] [comments]
Recently she's been making some pretty significant life decisions. i was supportive, because she seemed so sure of them when she made them. I'm kinda sad I didn't speak up a little more about my reservations, cuz i had a few, i just really didn't know she wasn't as certain as she sounded.
One notable thing she did was to sign a lease to an apartment that's well over her budget, bc she's been wanting to find a roommate for a long time (i already have my own place and we want to live separately).
It should have set off red flags to me that this place is in a neighborhood she'd already ruled out several months ago... it's got a bunch of college dorms nearby, which produce quite a bit of noise. Today, she moved in, and sure enough, it's loud. And she hasn't found a roomie yet either, so she's kinda in over her head.
She was super upset this evening and kept asking me "Why? Why am i making such bad decisions?" She said she can't trust herself anymore.
I wanted to be like, yo, you've been depressed for two straight months, and you wanted to make some changes in your life, so you did. Maybe these weren't the best changes to make, but we will make the best of it.
I just wish she would get some help. It's really hard to see her crashing and burning, but this is beyond my expertise. I'm just sad, I miss her, I wish she would come back.
2023.04.02 10:11 MiddleEasternWeeaboo How to make soft top quieter at speed
I've noticed when at higher speeds, 70mph and above, the soft top gets lifted up from its frame supports, allowing wind through the gap where the top meets the windshield, making wind noise very loud inside. When I pull the top down hard to make the gap airtight, it gets a lot quieter. My original latches are set to its tightest position the locking clip will allow. Is there a way to tighten the latches more to create an airtight seal?
submitted by MiddleEasternWeeaboo to Miata [link] [comments]
2023.04.02 10:10 RandomRedditInquirey Finally Silent air pump
 | I'm not sure if anyone else is irritated with the loud noise these common tetra "whisper" air pumps make but I found a great solution that works for me. It is stainless steel hose clamp commonly found in most hardware stores. The difference is amazing. While not silent. It is not nearly as loud. Just get an appropriate screwdriver and tighten the clamp really snug and there ya go. submitted by RandomRedditInquirey to Aquariums [link] [comments] |
2023.04.02 10:06 hsyang9012 Win4: Balanced or High Performance Power Plan?
The difference seems to be extreme but I’m worried about draining my battery too fast and killing its lifespan. Which power plan do you guys use? I’m using 45hz with TDP limit of 15w but my CPU clock can goes max turbo during High Performance mode and makes weird electricity current buzz noise.
Edit: I heard that I should use the balanced mode for 5000 series and up. Not sure why though.
submitted by hsyang9012 to gpdwin [link] [comments]
Edit: I heard that I should use the balanced mode for 5000 series and up. Not sure why though.
2023.04.02 09:57 Cake_Eater26 Rifle and Knife: Ep.4 "Laboratory" part 2
Part 2, opinion/criticism into the comments, thanks. ---
Memory transcription subject: James Wilson, Private, 53rd Infantry Division, Squad "Thunderbolt". ---
“Take a deep breath, that should help.” He said I followed his advice. After some time we both recovered our breath as I stood up and looked at the door. I opened it, peeked out and looked around.
The hallway was even a bigger mess, ranging from dead bodies to broken doors and dried up blood on the walls and floor. I stepped in and slowly moved down the hallway, I looked at Ethan as he pulled out a C-5 and attached it to a wall.
“Are you sure it will make the whole facility explode??” I asked him, looking around for an enemy.
“Of course I do, we just need to install on several bearing walls then this whole facility will collapse under its and the mountain weight.” He checked the connection to the detonator then stood up and came to me.
“I’ll lead the way you will cover, move carefully and don’t fall again.” He said and moved forward, I followed him.
As we took the turn we spotted an Arxur at the end of the hallway then Ethan noticed an opened door on the right. We carefully walked inside this room and closed the door. I looked around the room and spotted another door which was leading to another hallway.
The room was cleaner than most of the laboratory as there was a dead Venlil body. I approached it, and this body looked identical to a Venlil, but something was off. I inspected the body as Ethan walked to the table and looked at various papers and documentation.
“I think this is one is interesting,” he said in half-whispering tone as he came closer to me and stood in front of me
"This is experiment number 47, the attempt to give predatory thinking and abilities, such as stronger jaws and claws, to a prey species. This one was diagnosed with some predator disease…blah, blah, the experiment was successful, but…its brain couldn’t stand…predatory feelings, which resulted in a heart attack and, later, death." He said and put the document on the table near Venlil's hand.
“Well that’s really interesting.” I said and put hand on Venlil mouth then I lifted his lip, Venlil teeth had quite large and sharp looking fangs.
“Alright, let’s move on. I hope they didn’t developed something here that can revive dead people.” I said and walked to the other door then slowly opened it and looked around. The hallway was clear and we walked out of the room then he placed another C-5 charge on the wall.
“Three more to go.” He said and walked forward then he came near the corner and checked the hallway on the right then peeked around the corner and checked the other hallway. He quickly came to another wall and placed the charge. I looked at the hallway and spotted Arxur then I patted Ethan’s shoulder and we moved.
As we took the turn we stumbled upon several of those damned creatures, it was clear that they spotted us and I quickly raised my shotgun and shot at one of them killing it then we both ran away from them.
One Arxur came out of the corner and I shot but missed him as Ethan took me by hand and we both ran through the room. We quickly moved as Arxurs broke down the doors and followed us, I could tell that it’s getting more of them. Ethan stumbled and fell down.
I quickly rushed to him and shot at Arxur his body fell on the floor as other Arxurs pounced on that body and began to rip it off and eat. Other one lunged at me and hit me in the chest. The hit ripped off my vest and badly injured me.
I managed to aim and pull the trigger, killing him as Ethan took me by hand and lifted me, placing me on his shoulder. He threw a C-5 on the wall, then quickly ran, taking several turns and searching for the staircase.
I felt shitty as I saw my blood flowing on his shoulder, painting it in my red blood. It feels hard to keep my eyes opened, I am fighting myself to not just die on his shoulder right now. He took the final turn and found the door to a staircase. He picked up a mop and ran inside, blocking the door with a mop and putting me on the floor near the wall.
“Aw fuck, that shit is painful.” I said and put my hand on my chest, Ethan took a look at my injury.
“You got injured pretty badly, I guess you won’t make it.” He said in a dead, cold tone looking at my face. He looked at his PDA and did something on it then connected it to my helmet.
—
Memory transcription subject: Ethan Smith, Corporal, 53rd Infantry Division, Squad "Thunderbolt".
Date [Standardised human time]: July 14th, 2137, 0220 a.m.
---
I copied James' last 24 hours memory transcription and put away my PDA, then I took off his helmet and put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it.
“Thanks, I didn't know I would die here.” He said as I thought, remembering how we met in boot camp and our past missions.
“Well, then, take this one.” I reached into my bag and pulled out a C-5 and gave it to him, he grabbed my hand and looked at or I would say… looked inside my eyes and soul.
“Take my shotgun, send it to my mother, I want to surprise her with a gift…heh.” He said and coughed then grabbed the charge as I took his shotgun and put it inside my bag, he pulled out his pistol and put it out from safe mode. We nodded to each other as I heard Arxurs behind the door then I quickly started to run upstairs.
I ran past the 4th, 3rd, 2nd floors, arriving at the 1st floor. I quickly looked around as I remembered the path back. I heard loud roaring downstairs and shooting, then I ran down the hallway finding the way as I saw other squad mates and quickly approached them.
“Where is James?!” Sarge asked as I looked at him.
“Judging by his injuries, roaring sound and pistol shooting sound I think he’s already dead, however we managed to plant charges.” I said as I looked and saw Christopher raising his rifle and shooting at somebody.
I quickly turned around as Arxurs body fell on the floor at the end of the hallway and more of them started to approach. We quickly ran to the outside and I pressed the detonator button.
The charges exploded as their loud explosion noise could be heard even outside. The facility started to shake and eventually collapsed, killing survived Arxurs and burying the dead one. I stepped back and looked at the collapsed entrance. Looking at it made me feel empty, James was the one I’d liked for his rather stupid jokes but sometimes he could make us laugh.
My thoughts got consumed by guilt, that if I didn’t fall, he wouldn't have to save me yet it is still my fault that I didn’t shoot at least two of them. If I did he would be alive and standing near us, me…maybe telling a joke.
I pulled out his shotgun from my bag and inspected it, it was decorated with marks and some words that were slurs to federation troops. It also had a writing on the right side of a shotgun which read “Have a good day!” My thoughts suddenly were flooded with memories of him shooting enemies with it. I even sometimes looked at him and saw this writing.
I felt somebody put his hand on my shoulder then I quickly turned around and found no one closer to me. I looked at squadmates yet they are far from me. I slowly felt better as I pushed my dark thoughts away. I put the shotgun into the bag and quickly approached my squadmates.
“Gold Eagle respond….Red Rose respond…something is blocking the communications.” Sarge said, holding the radio on his vest. I saw John and Christopher being sad about losing James.
“Gold Eagle respond….Red Ro-”
“All UN troops on the planet proceeded with the plan ‘Sleeping Eagle’, the Federation fleet attacked our fleet, we must retreat however we will come and save you. All you need is to hold on till we come, if it goes very bad…you’re a heroes to us and Earth. Gold Eagle out.” The voice from the radio said, I recognised it and looked in the sky.
“What does that mean sir?” Christopher said as I looked at him.
“This means, we’re now a guerrilla unit and doing guerrilla warfare, it will be a tough time and situation for us…but we will stand and survive. We’ll be fine as long as we stay together.” He said and put hand on his shoulder.
“All present UN troops retreat to the rendezvous point, this will be our current main base. The point coordinates are sent to your PDA. Make sure you will survive, Red Rose out.” We heard from the radio.
“Sir, I suggest that we should get to the humvee, the sooner we get to the rendezvous point the better it will be for the remaining troops on the planet and for us.” I said, Sarge nodded and we followed him to the humvee.
—
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submitted by Cake_Eater26 to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]
Memory transcription subject: James Wilson, Private, 53rd Infantry Division, Squad "Thunderbolt". ---
“Take a deep breath, that should help.” He said I followed his advice. After some time we both recovered our breath as I stood up and looked at the door. I opened it, peeked out and looked around.
The hallway was even a bigger mess, ranging from dead bodies to broken doors and dried up blood on the walls and floor. I stepped in and slowly moved down the hallway, I looked at Ethan as he pulled out a C-5 and attached it to a wall.
“Are you sure it will make the whole facility explode??” I asked him, looking around for an enemy.
“Of course I do, we just need to install on several bearing walls then this whole facility will collapse under its and the mountain weight.” He checked the connection to the detonator then stood up and came to me.
“I’ll lead the way you will cover, move carefully and don’t fall again.” He said and moved forward, I followed him.
As we took the turn we spotted an Arxur at the end of the hallway then Ethan noticed an opened door on the right. We carefully walked inside this room and closed the door. I looked around the room and spotted another door which was leading to another hallway.
The room was cleaner than most of the laboratory as there was a dead Venlil body. I approached it, and this body looked identical to a Venlil, but something was off. I inspected the body as Ethan walked to the table and looked at various papers and documentation.
“I think this is one is interesting,” he said in half-whispering tone as he came closer to me and stood in front of me
"This is experiment number 47, the attempt to give predatory thinking and abilities, such as stronger jaws and claws, to a prey species. This one was diagnosed with some predator disease…blah, blah, the experiment was successful, but…its brain couldn’t stand…predatory feelings, which resulted in a heart attack and, later, death." He said and put the document on the table near Venlil's hand.
“Well that’s really interesting.” I said and put hand on Venlil mouth then I lifted his lip, Venlil teeth had quite large and sharp looking fangs.
“Alright, let’s move on. I hope they didn’t developed something here that can revive dead people.” I said and walked to the other door then slowly opened it and looked around. The hallway was clear and we walked out of the room then he placed another C-5 charge on the wall.
“Three more to go.” He said and walked forward then he came near the corner and checked the hallway on the right then peeked around the corner and checked the other hallway. He quickly came to another wall and placed the charge. I looked at the hallway and spotted Arxur then I patted Ethan’s shoulder and we moved.
As we took the turn we stumbled upon several of those damned creatures, it was clear that they spotted us and I quickly raised my shotgun and shot at one of them killing it then we both ran away from them.
One Arxur came out of the corner and I shot but missed him as Ethan took me by hand and we both ran through the room. We quickly moved as Arxurs broke down the doors and followed us, I could tell that it’s getting more of them. Ethan stumbled and fell down.
I quickly rushed to him and shot at Arxur his body fell on the floor as other Arxurs pounced on that body and began to rip it off and eat. Other one lunged at me and hit me in the chest. The hit ripped off my vest and badly injured me.
I managed to aim and pull the trigger, killing him as Ethan took me by hand and lifted me, placing me on his shoulder. He threw a C-5 on the wall, then quickly ran, taking several turns and searching for the staircase.
I felt shitty as I saw my blood flowing on his shoulder, painting it in my red blood. It feels hard to keep my eyes opened, I am fighting myself to not just die on his shoulder right now. He took the final turn and found the door to a staircase. He picked up a mop and ran inside, blocking the door with a mop and putting me on the floor near the wall.
“Aw fuck, that shit is painful.” I said and put my hand on my chest, Ethan took a look at my injury.
“You got injured pretty badly, I guess you won’t make it.” He said in a dead, cold tone looking at my face. He looked at his PDA and did something on it then connected it to my helmet.
—
Memory transcription subject: Ethan Smith, Corporal, 53rd Infantry Division, Squad "Thunderbolt".
Date [Standardised human time]: July 14th, 2137, 0220 a.m.
---
I copied James' last 24 hours memory transcription and put away my PDA, then I took off his helmet and put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it.
“Thanks, I didn't know I would die here.” He said as I thought, remembering how we met in boot camp and our past missions.
“Well, then, take this one.” I reached into my bag and pulled out a C-5 and gave it to him, he grabbed my hand and looked at or I would say… looked inside my eyes and soul.
“Take my shotgun, send it to my mother, I want to surprise her with a gift…heh.” He said and coughed then grabbed the charge as I took his shotgun and put it inside my bag, he pulled out his pistol and put it out from safe mode. We nodded to each other as I heard Arxurs behind the door then I quickly started to run upstairs.
I ran past the 4th, 3rd, 2nd floors, arriving at the 1st floor. I quickly looked around as I remembered the path back. I heard loud roaring downstairs and shooting, then I ran down the hallway finding the way as I saw other squad mates and quickly approached them.
“Where is James?!” Sarge asked as I looked at him.
“Judging by his injuries, roaring sound and pistol shooting sound I think he’s already dead, however we managed to plant charges.” I said as I looked and saw Christopher raising his rifle and shooting at somebody.
I quickly turned around as Arxurs body fell on the floor at the end of the hallway and more of them started to approach. We quickly ran to the outside and I pressed the detonator button.
The charges exploded as their loud explosion noise could be heard even outside. The facility started to shake and eventually collapsed, killing survived Arxurs and burying the dead one. I stepped back and looked at the collapsed entrance. Looking at it made me feel empty, James was the one I’d liked for his rather stupid jokes but sometimes he could make us laugh.
My thoughts got consumed by guilt, that if I didn’t fall, he wouldn't have to save me yet it is still my fault that I didn’t shoot at least two of them. If I did he would be alive and standing near us, me…maybe telling a joke.
I pulled out his shotgun from my bag and inspected it, it was decorated with marks and some words that were slurs to federation troops. It also had a writing on the right side of a shotgun which read “Have a good day!” My thoughts suddenly were flooded with memories of him shooting enemies with it. I even sometimes looked at him and saw this writing.
I felt somebody put his hand on my shoulder then I quickly turned around and found no one closer to me. I looked at squadmates yet they are far from me. I slowly felt better as I pushed my dark thoughts away. I put the shotgun into the bag and quickly approached my squadmates.
“Gold Eagle respond….Red Rose respond…something is blocking the communications.” Sarge said, holding the radio on his vest. I saw John and Christopher being sad about losing James.
“Gold Eagle respond….Red Ro-”
“All UN troops on the planet proceeded with the plan ‘Sleeping Eagle’, the Federation fleet attacked our fleet, we must retreat however we will come and save you. All you need is to hold on till we come, if it goes very bad…you’re a heroes to us and Earth. Gold Eagle out.” The voice from the radio said, I recognised it and looked in the sky.
“What does that mean sir?” Christopher said as I looked at him.
“This means, we’re now a guerrilla unit and doing guerrilla warfare, it will be a tough time and situation for us…but we will stand and survive. We’ll be fine as long as we stay together.” He said and put hand on his shoulder.
“All present UN troops retreat to the rendezvous point, this will be our current main base. The point coordinates are sent to your PDA. Make sure you will survive, Red Rose out.” We heard from the radio.
“Sir, I suggest that we should get to the humvee, the sooner we get to the rendezvous point the better it will be for the remaining troops on the planet and for us.” I said, Sarge nodded and we followed him to the humvee.
—
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