Abc poems about spring

Compost like a Pro Event May 16 - New Westminster

2024.05.15 02:31 anotherbeerco Compost like a Pro Event May 16 - New Westminster

Compost like a Pro Event May 16 - New Westminster
Learn how to Compost like a Pro with Terra Flora Soil Works from Chilliwack BC. Andrew Couzens, owner and soil pro, will come out and show us how we can make great compost with out household goods and even with a little help from Another Beer Co.
What you’ll learn at this workshop:
What is BOKASHI
How to make BOKASHI bran inoculant
How to Compost with BOKASHI inoculant
How to use finished BOKASHI as a fertilizer
Here at Another Beer Co. we love to garden and to support things that help the world with sustainability. We’d love to give you all some spent grain to make your own BOKASHI, and Andrew will show us how easy it is to do so.
What will your $15 admission cover:
  • Entry and help carry the costs to bring Andrew and Terra Flora Soil Works in
  • Includes a drink (beer and non-alcoholic options available)
  • Samples from ABC and Locality Brewing
Locality Brewing will be out to chat about what they’re doing at their farm and how important the farm to table businesses are to the sustainability goals we all should have. Samples of their product will be available.
Terra Flora Soil Works will also have their hard to get composting materials on site for you to purchase if you like!
Happy Spring Gardening and composting to you all!
Where: Another Beer Co. 11 -30 Capilano Way, New Westminster When: May 16, 2024 7-8PM
More details and book your spot HERE
submitted by anotherbeerco to GardeningBC [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 14:01 Zappingsbrew A post talking about 400 words

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submitted by Zappingsbrew to u/Zappingsbrew [link] [comments]


2024.05.12 17:43 ShoreThingW609 Rally attendance count

I live on the island, walk the boardwalk almost daily, and even work the BCMF. I'm used to weekly and seasonal crowds. We get crowds almost every weekend in the spring and fall in the "off season" for events like wrestling, cheerleading, and car shows. No doubt that the rally brought additional people to the island, but there was already a car show on the boardwalk and cheerleading in the convention center prior to the rally being scheduled. Other than lots of MAGA flags and red hats, the Saturday crowd was only slightly larger than a typical Mothers Day Weekend crowd on the boardwalk.
I'm already seeing wild claims about rally attendance. Trump reported 80,000, which is his exaggerated claim. ABC News reported 20,000, although that number is for all island visitors and includes the car show and cheerleader people that were already here. I walked the boardwalk twice yesterday and saw the rally area on the beach filling with people six hours before the scheduled start time, and there were just a few more people on the beach just prior to start time when I checked again. The hardcore MAGA crowd got there early, and then a few more red hats trickled in. The boards were probably less crowded because they stood on the beach for 5+ hours.
My final unofficial guess of people actually attending the rally is about 6,000. Prove me right, or wrong.
EDIT: I learned that the permit issued was for 10,000 people maximum. The rally area wasn’t full either time I walked past. The official 80,000-100,000 estimate is total people on the island Saturday with just under 10,000 actually attending the rally. For all I know, cheerleaders drove to Wildwood in their classic car and also attended the rally.
submitted by ShoreThingW609 to SouthJersey [link] [comments]


2024.05.12 16:18 SenlanZWH GEN vs TES Hupu Rating and Comments

I'm going to try to translate those top comment from Hupu for MSI, I might skip some of them as they are Chinese internet memes that I've no idea how to translate, and those comment related to Honor of Kings, a popular league like mobile game made by Tencent.
The rating is user poll generated, you can give a rating between 2 and 10, and average is used. A total of 335k people participated in this series' rating.
Hupu rating is an in APP feature so it doesn't really have a link, but here is the post match thread for the match, and on the top there is an link you can click on that get you to that page. link

MATCH 1: GEN vs. TES

*Gen.G *
Player Rating Top Comment
Kiin Vayne 7.5 Good at getting carried.
Canyon Vi 3.0 Without those engages, Draven wouldn't even have a chance to cash in.
Chovy Corki 9.1 You are not on Chovy's level, bring bigwei here.(BLG Coach, Chovy in Chinese is pronounced chaowei.
Peyz Kalista 8.5 Where is ELK, sub in ELK!
Lehends Alistar 8.6 "Lehends Alistar, there was that classic clip, I'm laughing already."
Kim 6.6 I've already decided to yell at Canyon, and have a infighting this summer.
Top Esports
Player Rating Top Comment
369 K'Sante 2.4 Push and pull, and you just collapsed.
Tian Viego 4.0 Did you submit your formal request when you transformed into Vayne and play it for a bit?
Creme Akali 5.8 Bad but not a coward.
JackeyLove Draven 9.0 What a shame, most consistent game, did not int once.
Meiko Nautilus 7.1 That last fight was a bit comical, but I guess its gg if you don't engage, so who knowns.
Despa1r 2.7 Love to pick Draven without banning Vi, love to give Tian Viego.

MATCH 2: GEN vs. TES

*Gen.G *
Player Rating Top Comment
Kiin Twisted Fate 8.3 Without Doran, Chovy is playing better and better.
Canyon Lee Sin 8.1 Canyon, Offseason 1st team. (Another Lebron kyzhyz wordplay.)
Chovy Azir 9.4 The only mistake you made game was because you thought TES had more damage, didn't even need to use Zhonya this game.
Peyz Aphelios 7.8 Second Item Lord Dominik's, are you trying to ruin Han Sama.
Lehends Lulu 9.1 Why does you Lulu has Charm?
Kim 7.4 KenZhu: Guys, I'm trying to crack his password.
Top Esports
Player Rating Top Comment
369 Renekton 2.7 Didn't felt like last game was bad enough, so you tried to be worse this game.
Tian Sejuani 2.4 Wow, 3rd Uncle was pretty bad, but you are worse. (Canyon's nickname in china is 3rd Uncle, after Ning and Tian, due to there world's FMVP).
Creme Ahri 2.3 Such difference compared with Faker's G5 Ahri yesterday, I guess you really need to look at the ID not only champion name.
JackeyLove Lucian 8.6 When you have to pull all your eggs in the Jacky basket, TES is probably doomed.
Meiko Nami 8.9 Nami bubble is pretty hard to hit, most time with Lucian Nami, Nami's purpose is to buff Lucian with E, I guess only Meiko's Nami could be one that controls bot lane.
Despa1r 2.7 Fun Fact: After SSG got rebranded as Gen.G, they've never beat LPL in a BO5, TES is about to break this record after 6 years.

MATCH 3: GEN vs. TES

*Gen.G *
Player Rating Top Comment
Kiin Ryze 5.9 Honest you played pretty well, teleports and etc are all decent, not sure why people are flaming you.
Canyon Jarvan IV 2.8 I rarely use Tarzan to describe a jungler.
Chovy Corki 5.1 Why did people say you tried your best, I mean you got gapped by fking Creme.
Peyz Kalista 2.4 Imp would go forward is he was playing.
Lehends Nautilus 3.0 Naut went around the back, ult Alistar, Q the wall. The two bastards of bot lane.
Kim 3.1 Kenzhu: Hey guys, I figured out his password.
Top Esports
Player Rating Top Comment
369 Rumble 4.6 Wow, you are really soft against Korean top laners.
Tian Maokai 9.4 The shadow MVP, great decisions.
Creme Tristana 9.8 TES.Creme: Please first pick me Trist; TES.Creme: Please first pick me Trist; TES.Creme: I'm a one trick.
JackeyLove Varus 9.7 If my teammates played like human, you think I'll lose to you? Seriously?
Meiko Alistar 9.8 I play support, I die for my mid, I got flamed. Please treat all those unnamed support in the rift nicely.
Despa1r 6.4 Don't pick what made you guys good in the spring, picking Viego and Akali, and wait till the match point to go back to Varus Maokai, really?

MATCH 4: GEN vs. TES

*Gen.G *
Player Rating Top Comment
Kiin K'Sante 3.1 Love ranged top, becoming i series, you are? (Referencing TheShy, i series is a flame people use when theShy go 1/x, call him developing ix series CPU).
Canyon Vi 4.8 Do you know why we didn't kill you when we fountain dived in the end? Because league does not have friendly fire.
Chovy Azir 3.1 If you are Faker, I'm not going to celebrate until the Nexus explodes, but you are Chovy, you guys are not coming back.
Peyz Kalista 2.7 I became a world champion at 17, you?
Lehends Alistar 4.3 5 Star, XDXDXD, please continue like this next game.
Kim 2.9 Kenzhu: Sorry he got back on for a second and banned Trist.
Top Esports
Player Rating Top Comment
369 Urgot 9.0 Zhou: 69: Just wait for me to get one more wave.(Zhou former TES support was guest casting this game, they were playing out how TES member's voice comm would sound like in the end).
Tian Sejuani 9.8 Mahakala! (It is pronounced da an hei tian(大暗黑天)in Chinese, not sure if it is referencing DNF another Tencent game, or Seer, a popular Chinese web game for kids.)
Creme Corki 9.8 Was Trist piloting the plane? You can only play yordles from now on.
JackeyLove Draven 9.7 When the rift herald was summoned, the music started to play in my ears, da da da di da la. (Referencing the Jacky Marching Song (난! (I) By Clon I think.) It is used by a lot of Jacky clips in Chinese TikTok, people called it Jacky anthem.)
Meiko Ashe 9.9 General settles Tian Shan with 3 arrows, Warrior march into the gates of Korea. (A poem from Old Book of Tang, about the general that conquered Goguryeo, a Korean kingdom lasted till 668, I'm not a poet, so the translation is probably botching it.).
Despa1r 9.1 2.9 before the game started, 9.2 after the game started.

MATCH 5: GEN vs. TES

*Gen.G *
Player Rating Top Comment
Kiin K'Sante 9.3 Pic of Showmaker clapping sarcastically.
Canyon Nidalee 9.2 Nidalee: I'm at a loss, Geon-bu, do you remember the High-spirited you from that year. (Referencing to 2020 FMVP Canyon).
Chovy Corki 7.8 You almost inted game 5 away, you played like the best player on your team for the first 4 games, but if you did int game 5 away, people are going to say you are a choker.
Peyz Kalista 5.7 Lol, you team had a 10k gold lead, you have a 100 gold lead.
Lehends Ashe 6.3 Lehends: Akali is coming! Akali is coming!
Kim 6.3 Kenzhu: Sorry guys, they finally kicked me off his account after 2 games.
Top Esports
Player Rating Top Comment
369 Urgot 3.0 Turning point: Feed a kill to the Nid that was doomed, and it radiated to the bot lane, great start but got push around entire game.
Tian Sejuani 8.5 Tried you best, this is really a surprise that you were the most consistent.
Creme Akali 2.7 WTF was that last fight, you guys had a chance to comeback.
JackeyLove Lucian 8.6 Nothing to say, you really tried you best today, at least you didn't get 3-0ed, good luck next round.
Meiko Nami 9.3 Those godly bubbles, too bad your guys got out macroed hard.
Despa1r 4.1 What a BP, like to chose losing lanes, like to pick comp that lost before already.
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2024.05.12 02:23 Right-Ad-5875 Apologize to my soulmate bff

I took a garden gummy and am sitting out in my garage with the beautiful spring weather.
I have a friend who we consider each other soulmates but have not talked since March. I feel like a love sick puppy over here. Just wanting to be friends again. But I get such anxiety when I think about doing it. Like she hates me so why?
Recently I wrote this in my notes app for her. I don’t if it’s a song or poem. But it does go well to a 2010’s emo vibe.
(Part of me really wants to share it with her because I think we’d die laughing over it!)
🤣

Boo…
Hi. I literally feel like a crazy ex Writing you paragraph after paragraph text in the notes app Bout being sorry and how I miss you Then I freeze because why express this when I feel like you’ve made up your mind.
Delete delete delete
But then I’m like hell no. Soulmates are forever and I miss the fuck out of you and want you to know that.
I’m sorry going with to SK didn’t work but I’m even more sorry about my poor communication about it before hand. I could have been better and I’m sorry.
There’s so much in my head about the whole situation And us not talking I can’t wrap my head around it with how fast it spins
I miss you. I miss our conversations.
Your voice Your sass The way we can be having a complete crying meltdown and the other one can make us crack a smile.
The fact you’re in SK and I know nothing about your life makes me so sad! I want to know it all
But then again, my communication could have been better but as distance grew so did my anxiety thinking you hate me.
So why bother
Then sometimes I say that out loud and I think How silly Just pick the damn phone up and call her
Soulmates are forever and I miss the fuck out of you
And vice verse There’s been so much in my life that has happened That you’re the only person I want to call And I feel like I can’t
I just really miss you. I hope I’m still your plus one
But if it’s been revoked I understand.
I just want to be friends again. Hear your voice and stories again.
You’re the Beyoncé of my life So this is me coming to you
Your red headed Jay-z To ask for forgiveness.
I miss and love you. No matter the outcome I will always wish you love and support Pure bliss and bright days
My beautiful soulmate.”
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2024.05.11 22:27 softtechhubus Mastering Prompt Engineering: The Key to Unlocking the Power of Generative AI

Mastering Prompt Engineering: The Key to Unlocking the Power of Generative AI
https://preview.redd.it/r329cc25xuzc1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=bbd5d2b000df817dcde570829711e4bc79d9aaac

I. Introduction

A. Definition of generative AI and its applications

Generative artificial intelligence refers to a class of AI techniques that are capable of generating new content such as images, text, audio, and video based on examples or prompts provided. Some common generative AI models include text generators like GPT-3, image generators like DALL-E 2, music generators, and more. These models have shown great promise in applications such as creativity support tools, content creation, datsynthesis, improving accessibility and more. However, their full potential is still largely dependent on how effectively they are guided via prompts.

B. Importance of prompt engineering for effective AI interactions

While generative AI models have advanced rapidly, their capabilities are still narrow and limited compared to human-level intelligence. As such, their behaviors and outputs are heavily influenced by the initial prompts or instructions provided. Prompt engineering refers to the art and science of carefully designing prompts to optimize generative AI model behaviors for different tasks. It plays a key role in determining whether AI interactions will be safe, beneficial and aligned with human values and priorities. With expertise in prompt engineering, the capabilities of generative AI can be maximized while mitigating potential risks. It is thus critical for unlocking the full power of these technologies.

II. Understanding Prompt Engineering

A. What is prompt engineering?

Prompt engineering involves the iterative process of thoughtfully constructing, testing, refining and curating prompts to achieve intended goals when interacting with generative AI systems. Effective prompts aim to clearly convey task instructions, provide helpful context, avoid ambiguity and ensure models stay aligned. Prompt engineering leverages techniques from fields like natural language processing and human-AI interaction design. Its purpose is to develop structured, nuanced prompts that can reliably steer generative AI towards safe, helpful and truthful behavior across diverse scenarios.

B. Significance of prompts in guiding AI models

Generative AI models are complex deep learning systems trained on vast amounts of data, but they lack human-level reasoning abilities. As such, their behaviors are heavily driven by the exact text, images or other data provided as prompts during inference. Small variations in prompts can significantly impact model outputs and potentially steer the AI towards harmful, misleading or unintended directions if not carefully engineered. Well-designed prompts allow specifying context, constraints and desired styles to guide models towards completing tasks safely and helpfully. Ill-defined prompts may hinder model performance or cause undesirable outcomes.

C. Key principles of effective prompt design

Some principles that underlie expert prompt engineering involve making prompts clear, unambiguous yet flexible. Prompts should precisely define the task or scenario while providing enough context and examples. They aim to be logically structured yet concise. Conditional statements and progressive disclosure of information are often used. Templates, reusable components and iterative testing help refine prompts. Diversity and creativity are encouraged while avoiding potential biases. Collaboration further improves prompt quality. Overall, the goal is developing prompts robust enough to reliably steer models to complete even complex tasks safely and beneficially.

III. Expert Prompt Engineering Techniques

A. Clear and Concise Instructions

1. Defining the task

Effective prompts start with a very clear definition of the task or scenario. Vague instructions don't provide models with enough guidance. Examples of well-defined tasks include "Generate a short story about xyz", "Describe step-by-step how to perform task ABC" or "Respond to the following customer question". Overly broad or ambiguous tasks make it difficult for models to know what is expected.

2. Providing context and constraints

Giving proper context helps models understand tasks. For instance, if generating a medical report, details about the patient, time period and symptoms would be relevant contextual details. Constraints on length, content, style etc. make tasks well-scoped. For example, "generate a 100-250 word summary of the key points" sets clear expectations and boundaries.

3. Using examples or references

Showing models concrete examples of expected performance helps align objectives. For writing prompts, exemplar paragraphs, personas or samples set the tone. Templates can provide references on formatting or logical structures. For image generation, visually demonstrating expected styles guides models well. Examples supplement rather than substitute for clear instructions.

B. Strategic Prompt Structuring

1. Utilizing prompt components (instructions, input, output)

Splitting prompts modularly into logical components like instructions, input context and expected output format allows adding, removing or editing sections independently. It also makes room for multi-step prompting where subsequent sections are revealed iteratively. Well-defined components yield prompts that are adaptable yet cohesive.

2. Incorporating conditional statements or logic

Using if-then conditional logic and variables allows prompts to handle diverse inputs and edge cases systematically. For example, a relationship advice prompt could include - "If the issue is [category], then discuss [solution approach]. Else suggest seeking counseling." This imparts flexible decision trees to prompts.

3. Employing multi-step prompts for complex tasks

Dividing complex, multi-faceted tasks into progressive sub-steps through modular prompting enables systematic guidance. For example, a story writing prompt may first define characters/setting, then elicit a plot outline through a series of questions before prompting for a full story draft. This staged revealing of information and context aids complex interactions.

C. Leveraging Prompt Libraries and Templates

1. Curated prompt collections

Organized prompt libraries containing reusable components allow pulling together fit-for-purpose prompts efficiently by combining pre-engineered sections. They aid prompt customization and enable "Legos-style" prompt building for diverse scenarios. Domain expertise goes into continuously improving and expanding such libraries over time.

2. Domain-specific prompt templates

Templates standardize prompt structures for common tasks, domains or genres. For instance, there may be templates for medical reports, news articles, recipes, poems etc. They embed conventional rules, format guidelines and best practices of respective domains to accelerate prompt design for novices and ensure quality. Templates then undergo refinement iterations.

3. Customizing and adapting prompts

Even the best plug-and-play prompts need to be tailored to specific application needs. Adaptations involve optimizing instructions, contexts, examples and conditional logic unique to situations. Expert engineers analyze prompts holistically and modify them as per learnings from previous iterations, similar prompts or changed requirements. This custom calibration further hones prompts.

D. Iterative Refinement and Testing

1. Evaluating prompt effectiveness

Prompt iterations are informed by systematic evaluations of model outputs against objectives. Automatic metrics and human ratings can assess factors like alignment, coherence, creativity, factuality, helpfulness and success rates. Edge/failure cases highlight opportunities for improvement. Iterative testing and refinement brings out best performace over time.

2. Analyzing model outputs and feedback

Dissecting generated outputs provides rich insights into how models interpret prompts - revealing unclear definitions, biases, unnecessary constraints or missing context. User feedback on application use cases is another valuable source. Together, such analyses pinpoint prompt strengths as well as aspects needing enhancement.

3. Refining prompts based on learnings

Refinement addresses weaknesses discovered during evaluations. It may involve rephrasing instructions, adjusting examples/templates, adding conditionals, removing ambiguities, expanding relevant context et al. Testing then verifies refinements enhance alignment and performance as intended, perpetuating a cycle of incremental prompt optimization.

IV. Best Practices and Tips

A. Considering Model Capabilities and Limitations

Prompts must account for a model's abilities and limitations. For example, while creative writing may align some models, technical topics requiring reasoning may not. Prompts therefore need tailoring based on what a model was designed and trained for versus what it may struggle with. Overly complex, nuanced or sensitive tasks may require special considerations.

B. Addressing Potential Biases and Ethical Concerns

Models trained on large corpora can inadvertently learn social biases which prompts must avoid activating. Sensitive tasks require careful safeguards against harms. Techniques involve using balanced, inclusive examples; preemptively addressing biases; engaging subject matter experts to ensure safety and ethics are prioritized. Evaluations also audit for potential harms which engineers then mitigate.

C. Encouraging Diversity and Creativity in Prompts

While structure aids learnability, too much rigidity limits flexibility. Encouraging some element of reasoned creativity, appropriateness and adaptability in outputs is important for many use cases. Techniques involve using conditionals, variations in examples, embracing non-obvious angles on prompts, requesting novel ideas where applicable and evaluating beyond just alignment.

D. Collaborating and Sharing Prompt Engineering Knowledge

No single individual can master all skills or anticipate blindspots. Collaboration leverages diverse perspectives to holistically improve prompts. Strategies involve forming multidisciplinary teams; openly discussing learnings to expand collective expertise; building communities around prompt design best practices; responsibly sharing template libraries and case studies. This increases overall prompt engineering efficiency and standards across the field.

V. Real-World Examples and Case Studies

A. Successful prompt engineering applications

Some successful applications demonstrate expert prompt engineering at work. For instance, in translating COVID-19 healthcare FAQs into multiple languages through well-structured multi-step prompts with extensive testing iterations. Or generating helpful drug interaction information for pharmacists by first piloting the idea with subject matter experts to gauge nuances. Another example is how masterfully engineered conversational prompts drive chatbots handling sensitive customer support queries smoothly.

B. Lessons learned from real-world scenarios

Real use cases also provide valuable learning opportunities. For example, early AI assistant prototypes struggled with improperly designed identity and relationship counseling prompts requiring extensive redesign post reviews. Another lesson emerged when a healthcare bot produced unintended advice due to missing context in prompts - highlighting the need for supervised testing. Prompt failures driving harmful fake news generation likewise exposed blindspots until addressed. Such scenarios train engineers on prompt design pitfalls to avoid.

VI. Future of Prompt Engineering

A. Advancements in prompt engineering techniques

As models and applications advance, so must prompting methodologies. Emerging areas include semi-supervised prompting leveraging human-AI co-creation; self-supervised prompting enabling models to rationalize and critique their own prompting; multi-modal prompting combining text, images, audio et al.; causal prompting elucidating how outputs would change under interventions; continued standardization through shared resources like ontologies and benchmarks.

B. Potential impact on AI development and adoption

With further research, prompt engineering can transform AI safety, development workflows and adoption landscapes. Expert prompting may help align powerful models and establish safeguards against misuse. Techniques like benchmarking and best practice sharing may industrialize quality for wide impact. Self-guided learning through self-supervision could automate parts of the process. And as generative AI infuses more domains, successful prompting will be key to unlocking AI's potential responsibly at scale.
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VII. Conclusion

This article provided an in-depth overview of prompt engineering for optimizing generative AI systems. It delineated important concepts like the need for effective prompting given narrow AI capabilities today. Techniques discussed involved clear task definition, context provisioning, strategic structuring, leveraging libraries and templates as well as iterative refinement. Best practices addressed abilities, biases while stressing diversity and collaboration. Real examples and future potentials were also reviewed. Overall, expert prompting emerges as the definitive approach to guiding generative AI towards maximally beneficial applications safely.
While generative AI has taken gigantic leaps, its full promise remains dependent on human expertise in areas like prompt engineering. Just as thoughtful design is key to most technologies, intentional prompting acts as the interface optimizing human-AI partnerships. With continued multidisciplinary effort, prompt methodologies will mature to tap AI's strengths reliably while avoid downsides. In the process, generative systems may evolve to handle ever more complex tasks autonomously. But for now, harnessing narrow AI requires our best thinking applied to prompt engineering as the crucial lever for beneficial, innovative and scalable human-AI collaboration. Our efforts here will define generative experiences of the future.
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2024.05.11 02:56 PhilMathers Sophie V - FInal Days

10,000 Stolen Days

May 10, 2024 marked exactly 10,000 days since Sophie’s life was taken. 10,000 days which had they not been stolen from her in December 1996, must have seemed to be filled with possibility .1996 had been a banner year, she had achieved so much in the previous 6 months, setting up her production company "Les Champs Blancs", and producing three different productions, with more on the way. But it had been exhausting few months with all this work and travel, and although Christmas is a holiday, it is not always a relaxing one.
Christmas had often been a difficult time for Sophie. She walked out her first husband Pierre Jean at Christmas 1981, so suddenly, she left her infant son behind and had to steal him back with a ruse involving a relative. She broke up with Bruno Carbonnet over Christmas in 1993. leaving him a puzzling note;
“Je suis partie là où tu n'a jamais été, là où tu n'iras jamais".
“I have left there where you have never been, there where you will never go”. This didn’t make much sense to Bruno. He waited alone for two weeks in the apartment hoping she would return, he a had bought a bicycle for Pierre Louis for Christmas. In January he left to teach in Le Harve and when he returned the locks had been changed and all his stuff was on the landing. Sophie was deliberate about change in her life she didn't just let things happen to her. Her agenda year planners reflect this. She was meticulous in recording meetings, calls, contact details and travel plans. She brought 1995, 1996 & 1997 year planners with her. There are notes and reminders stretching into February 1997. She even tore off the little perforated corners as each week passed. It's a poignant reminder of how abruptly her life was cut off in full flow - the week beginning 23/12/1996 still has its corner intact.
Sophie’s style was austere, almost minimalist. Her cottage was painted white inside and out, with a except for the ground floor, which was black slate with a shiny varnish. The only decorations were a few sprigs of holly placed by the housekeeper to welcome her. A traditional Christmas week filled with loud music, tinsel and overconsumption was the diametric opposite of her character.
Worse there is the prospect having to trade pleasantries with tiresome relatives.
That Christmas Daniel had decided for the first time to have a big family Christmas inviting his extended aristocratic family to his chateau in Ambax in the South of France. For Sophie, who even after six years of marriage barely knew Daniel’s relatives, this was an easy choice and a hard no.
She bought her ticket on the morning of her travel planning to spend nearly a week in Ireland including Christmas Day and return on the 26th. It may be that this was the only return flight she could get at the time. Or it may be, as she told her aunt Madame Opalka “she was going to go to Ireland to spend Christmas there, because the house in Ambax was full of people”. From what Daniel has said, and from what others have said, it may be he tried to persuade her to come to Ambax for Christmas and convinced her. Sometime during the weekend she got an itinerary by fax at the cottage confirming her flight back on the 24th. But even on Sunday afternoon she told friends she had not made up her mind which flight she would take.
It is difficult to say how well their marriage was going at that time because the reports vary. Daniel said it was "harmonius and peaceful" which was far from accurate. There are several biographies of Daniel Toscan du Plantier, and they paint a vivid picture of a man who though incomparably charming, lived his life his own way without much concern for his family. He married four times and in three cases his wives were already pregnant before they got married. When he married Sophie, his eldest son and daughter were not even told about it, they only found out later in the summer when Sophie turned up at events.
Some witnesses including Daniel said was it was the happiest period, others say she was basically “an official wife” and that “their open marriage was an open secret”. The truth was probably somewhere in between. She had visited Ambax in November and collaborated closely on the documentary Europa 101 with Daniel. Whatever their personal arrangement, Daniel was deeply affected by her death, even though he refused to come to Ireland. His daughter Ariane wrote how she spent months taking care of him, feeding him sedatives and sleeping pills. He was clearly overwhelmed, so Sophie must have been more than an "official wife" to him. Was their marriage "open"? They clearly had a high degree of independence from each and had affairs in the past.
Nevertheless, Sophie may have balked at spending Christmas in Ambax. For one thing, it was far away from Paris, where her friends and family lived. For another, Daniel’s family and entourage knew very little about her. Apart from his second son Carlo, who was friends with her son Pierre Louis and some servants, she would have been on her own. Christmas in Paris would have been tolerable, she could escape and visit her parents and friends whenever she wanted, but in Ambax, she would be cooped up with nowhere else to go.
There is a question of whether Daniel was having an affair at the time. According to a Garda memo, French journalist Caroline Mangez said that Daniel was with a female film producer. However the files are full of unsubstantiated rumours and lies. Even if he wasn’t having an affair Sophie may have suspected he was. If Daniel had invited a mistress, or even a former mistress, or a former wife to Ambax, it would be unbearably awkward for Sophie. Daniel had uncountable affairs, and many of his mistresses knew each other, some remained on good terms.
Daniel may have been faithful at that time, perhaps he was telling the truth when he said their marriage was harmonius, but in any case Sophie had other reasons to skip Christmas. She had wanted to come to Dunmanus for months, but work got in the way. The heating had just been fixed and she needed to pay the plumber and her housekeeper. They preferred cash.
And if Daniel was unhappy that she wasn’t going to be there for Christmas, they were going on holiday together in the New Year to Dakar, Senegal. It would be much easier for Sophie to be with Daniel by himself than his whole family. This trip to Ireland would be a breather for her. She didn’t want to be alone, she asked at least 8 different people to accompany her, including 2 former intimate partners, though there is no evidence that she was having an affair or intended to have an affair.
There is a post-it note with a message in Sophie's hand seemingly inviting someone to spend Christmas: "Je vous laisse le choix : venir ou de refuser histoire que vous passiez un bon noel"
"I leave you the choice: come or refuse just so you have a good Christmas"
Whoever that note was written to, it was to someone she addressed as "vous" so not one of her closest friends or family.

Work

If she had another relationship, it is not obvious from her diary and it was unknown to her friends. What her diary does show though is that she had thrown herself into work.
Apart from her agenda she kept a working notebook, a red hardback book which is filled with a tantalizing mash of different references to famous works of art, music, and contacts details of artists and philosophers. She had recently completed work on three different films. The first work was a documentary on African Art. The next was Europa 101, a documentary written by Daniel showcasing the wealth of European cinema. This was Daniel’s pet project, he loathed US cinema and the dominance of Hollywood. He once likened his wife’s death to a “bad movie”. His life’s work was a “struggle against cheap portrayals of violence, which is what leads to deaths like this” (Irish Independent 12/07/1998). This project involved gathering interviews and footage from dozens of famous directors and actors, including John Malkovich, Ingmar Berman, Pedro Almodovar, Werner Herzog, Nanni Moretti, Jean Luc Godard and many others. It was broadcast on December 8, 1996.
The third was an art house movie called “He sees folds everywhere”, a concept movie exploring the idea of folds and creases in everyday life, in hanging clothes, paper, wrinkles on skin, folds of a human brain. This was a project of the director Guy Girard, and it was the work to complete this that delayed her trip to Ireland. But she had other projects in train in her notebook. She was researching Greek folk music, Rebetiko. She had a project or projects in mind which were somewhat dark in nature.
She was in contact with George Didi-Huberman who had written a book called “The Invention of Hysteria”. This is a photographic history of how Jean Marie Charcot – one of the giants of 19c French science – locked up thousands of women for the imagined maladies of hysteria, lethargy, catalepsie and experimented on them, deliberately photographing them in contrived and frightening poses. It is a very weird and frightening history.
Her next project seems to have been based around human fluids. Her final notes are filled with references to human flesh, death and the four medieval humours of blood, phlegm, black bile, yellow bile. There are extensive notes to what seems to be a lecture given by linguist Jean Claude Milner on the subject of melancholia. Note that “melancholia” is a synonym for “black bile”, one of the four humours.
She was researching the avant garde Irish/British painter Francis Bacon, who was known for producing uniquely disturbing images. She references “Three Studies for the Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion”. There was a Bacon exhibition in Centre Pompidou in 1996 and Sophie must have attended it. Her notebook contains her jottings from a lecture on Bacon by writer Philippe Sollers which seemed focused on blood.
"Why does painting touch the central nervous system?" "We are carcasses of meat, meat above all" "The canvas bleeds, blood spurts red" "Dostoyevsky had a crisis in front of the 16th century Hans Holbein’s painting “The Body of the Dead Christ in the Tomb She jotted down a quote from the play Libation Bearers from Aeschylus:
Orestes sees the Furies coming and exclaims "O Lord Apollon look! Now they come in troops, and from their eyes they drip loathsome blood!"
The last entry reads "research the Furies"

Friday

Having failed to convince anyone to join her in Ireland for Christmas, she went alone. She telephoned Josephine on Tuesday 17th, told her she would be arriving alone on Friday. She called her again on Thursday to ask her to make sure the house would be warm.
She went to the airport on Friday morning, bought a ticket with the return date on the 26th, carrying with her a rather hefty bag filled with clothes, including some eveningwear. Perhaps she envisaged visiting people at Christmas time. She expected to stay nearly a week. Later, possibly on Sunday she changed her ticket, she called the Aer Lingus ticket desk in Charles de Gaulle airport, Paris and got a return flight for the 24th. She received the itinerary details by fax, as she had a machine in the cottage.
She was not in a good mood when she arrived. She had some words with the woman at the Avis counter who passed her to her colleague. The photos on CCTV show a woman looking tired and drawn, something which was remarked upon by the Avis rep, who estimated she was in her forties, a little older than her 38 years. But nobody looks their best walking off an aircraft. She had also attended the Unifrance Christmas party the night before. This was a lavish party held in “Les Bains Douche”, a unique Paris nightclub combined with a swimming pool. Apart from the late night, the social effort must have been tiring. There was a rumour that Sophie had a row that night at Les Bains, a row with one of Daniel’s mistresses, but I have never heard that confirmed. But other reports say that those who met her there found her "radiant", "in good form", "playful". "She went arm in arm to see friends," one guest at the party told Paris Match, "but she always came back to the table where Daniel was sitting." (Paris Match 09/01/1997) Daniel was quoted years later by Michael Sheridan - “She spent some hours having an intense, passionate conversation with a film-maker” - Alain Terzian, producer of Les Visiteurs, one of the most successful French comedies of the 1990s.
Strangely though, Daniel’s first statement said she left on Wednesday. So perhaps it didn’t register with him that she was at the Unifrance party with him on Thursday 19th, or perhaps he had forgotten the party altogether.
Sophie was captured on Cork Airport CCTV at 14:41 pushing a trolley through the arrivals gate. The scheduled arrival time was 13:20, but because of almost an hour’s delay in departure it didn’t touch down until after 2. It would have taken about 15 minutes to pick up baggage from the carousel.
Cork is a small airport and it is quick to get through the arrival hall to the car hire desks, only a matter of a few meters away.
Sophie hired a silver Ford Fiesta and would have been on the road by 14:50.
The quickest route to West Cork would have been via Bandon and Dunmanway but it is more likely she went via Clonakilty and Skibbereen. She stopped in Ballydehob to buy kindling. She may have stopped in Skibbereen to buy petrol. A pump attendant reported seeing a woman matching her description driving a silver Ford buying petrol. He also noted a tall male companion in the passenger seat. The Gardai discounted this sighting because they accounted for the petrol in the car when it was hired and the mileage thereafter. There were also some discrepancies in the vehicle’s appearance and its description in the statement. Also the Ballydehob sighting is more reliable as the woman got a chance to talk to her. It would seem odd to stop in both Skibbereen and Ballydehob, both petrol stations.
But she seems to have stopped again in Schull because she bought bread and cheese in the Courtyard Deli, and this was most likely on Friday. She talked with the proprietor, Denis Quinlan to ask if there would be live music. At this stage it would have been around 4:30pm and after this she went to the cottage. She called her caretaker Josephine at 5:15, so she must have been at home by then. We don’t know if she went out after that point. She may have stayed in. At 10:15 she called her friend Agnès Thomas and spoke to her for half an hour.

Saturday

Sophie’s whereabouts on Saturday morning are unknown. Perhaps she stayed in, perhaps she went out. Finbarr Hellen was working on his land nearby and saw her car outside the house 12 to 1pm. He didn’t see her and thought it was unusual for her not to come out and say hello. He also remarked her car was parked in an unusual place. He did not elaborate more than this.
The next event we know is that she bought some groceries in Brosnans supermarket on the main street in Schull and took £200 out of the ATM.
For the curious, her shopping list is listed below:
Item Price
Firelighters 0.85
Independent Newspaper 0.85
EP Televised "Chopped" & Her 0.52
Parsley 0.40
Low Fat Yoghurt 1.90
Ballygowan Natural Spring Water 0.85
Napolina Penne 0.75
Rashers 1.26
Courgettes 1.23
Chicory 1.79
Onions 0.09
Fox's Classic Biscuits 0.83
Flat Mushrooms 0.65
Pepper Coated Salami 0.85
Cooked Turkey 1.89
Mushrooms 0.34
Avonmore Leek & Potato Soup 0.99
Monini Olive Oil 3.45
Ballygowan Natural Spring Water 0.85
Avonmore Carrot & Coriander Soup 0.99
Ballygowan Natural Spring Water 0.85
22.18
This list does suggest she was buying just for herself, but also that she planned to cook moderately elaborate meals with parsley, courgettes and chicory. Together with the cheese, bread and fruit already in the house she had enough food on there to last a few days. This quantity of food suggests she had not decided to travel home on the 24th at this stage.
The till recorded a time of 2:49pm.
Sometime after this or perhaps before Sophie entered Tara Fashions, the clothes shop run by Marie Farrell. What Marie Farrell saw that day and subsequent days has been subject to revision, retraction and details seemed to be added with each telling. But I think the most reliable report is the first and all the subsequent revisions cannot be trusted. Farrell called the Gardai on the 25th but they didn’t get around to taking a statement from her until 27th. Even so we can assume her memory was fresh. Here is her statement, verbatim.,
On Saturday the 21st December 1996 I was working in my shop at Main Street, Schull, Co. Cork. Between 2p.m. and 3p.m. I noticed a weird looking character across the road from my shop. He was approx 5’10” in height, late 30’s, scruffy looking, long black coat, flat black beret, thin build, sallow skin, short hair. He was there for about 10 minutes. On Sunday morning at 7.15a.m. approximately I noticed the same man on the road at Airhill. When I saw him he was walking towards Goleen on the right hand side of the road and I was travelling in the opposite direction. When he saw me he stopped and put up his hand to thumb a lift. I did not see this man before or since. On Saturday the 21.12.1996 at approx 3p.m. there was a woman in my shop. She did not buy anything. I now know that this woman was the deceased woman from Goleen. I recognised her from the photograph on the television.
There is also a record of her questionnaire which may have been taken earlier than this statement.
In reply to question no 8 When/where did you last see him/her alive? She replied "saw her in shop. She bought a "Carrig Donn" aran sweater aran nap coloured, rolled neck late Sat aftemoon. Paid £39.00. Questions No. 9, 10, 11 & 12 were left blank. In reply to question No. 13 "any other help?" Marie Farrell replied "saw a man on Sat afternoon hanging around street. Desc late 30's, 5'10" very short hair wearing black beret. Saw him again Sun morning @ 7.20am walking towards Airhill but thumbed her.
In a later questionnaire, Farrell said the sweater was too big and she didn’t buy it.
What is interesting her is that Farrell does not draw any explicit linkage between the weird character in the long black coat and the woman in the shop. They were just there at approximately the same time. Farrell did say in later statements that the man followed her up Ardnamanagh road, but this was many years later. Her statements that she saw the same man at Kealfadda bridge at 3am on Monday are untrustworthy, but we won't go into this here.
A farmer, Frank Lannin, saw Sophie driving towards Schull from Goleen around 3pm. She saluted him as she passed him in his tractor. The time or the direction of travel must be wrong here.
The final sighting on Saturday she was seen in the Courtyard pub, eating a crab sandwich and left at 3:30pm. Sally Bolger went to feed her horses on Alfie Lyons land at 4:15pm and says she saw Sophie’s car at her house.
Saturday evening is a complete blank. Nobody saw her, she may have called people on the phone but we don’t have precise details. Her husband said she called him twice on Saturday, but we don’t have any confirmation of this.
At some point Sophie changed her ticket home. Her diary has a number listed as “O’Mahony” and the number was the line to the Aer Lingus ticket desk in Charles-de-Gaulle Roissy airport. The new itinerary was faxed to her in her cottage. The reason why she decided to come home early is not known. Her friend Jean Senet said her husband Daniel persuaded her. For his part Daniel said there was no particular plan and he was to pick her up from the airport at Toulouse at 8pm. Another report tells that she came home early to meet her father, so she could help him with his taxes.

Sunday

For Sunday morning we don’t have any reports.
She called to Dunlough at in the early afternoon, perhaps around 1pm. Sophie had walked here several times before. It is a spectacular headland featuring a lake and three crumbling castles. It was cold and dry at the time, good weather for a walk, if bracing. It is necessary to pass the farm to walk the headland and when Sophie did so she met Tomi Ungerer. This was the second time they had met. Sophie had called here in April but it seemed Tomi and his wife were having a row at the time and Tomi had not paid much attention. Daniel said that Sophie feigned a puncture as an excused to call to the farm. In June Sophie had sent Tomi a fax about the death of a mutual colleague, Gilbert Estève. She may have been seeking information or just making contact. Sophie made a habit out of making contacts with important artists and thinkers. It was one of the things that a colleague said of her, she knew all the right people. It is possible that Tomi was one of the people Sophie wanted to meet for a while. Tomi invited her in for a drink after she had finished her walk. She returned an hour later and they had a conversation over two glasses of wine.
Tomi was a renowned visual artist, with a keen eye and a professional interest in culture. Born in Alsace he was marked by World War II and had seen the ravages of the Nazis and the backlash from the French afterwards. He worked for as a cultural ambassador to improve Franco German relations.
The statement that Tomi gave is remarkable in the insight it gives to Sophie’s character her interests and state of mind.
“She was saying how great Ireland was for literature and education compared to France, how France had thousands of books published every year but that there was no good Authors there, how Ireland was vibrant as a centre of literature for a small Country. She discussed her family, moreover her children and their education in France. She indicated that the reason she was here in Ireland was she wanted to be alone for Christmas. I considered this strange but I sometimes like to be alone too. We talked about books and culture and how the language here was more meaningful and truthful compared to the superficial nature of the French.”
“She seemed a very genuine person, a fine person, not pretentious or snobby. I thought she was deep and intelligent, so much so that I made notes of some things she said, “In a language there should be no need of the use of cuteness” “The problem of France is her lack of modesty”. I wrote those saying they might be useful for my work in the futre. I wrote the quotes on a card in which we exchanged addresses before she left. On hindsight now I would go as far as saying she was not beaming, that she had something on her mind. It’s hard when you do not know someone well to say. I offered her a third glass of wine but she did not take any. We gave her some eggs to take with her, half dozen for her supper. We have hens.”
The word “genuine” is telling. Tomi was struck by Irish people, how the highest compliment an Irish person can give about another, is to say that person is “genuine”.
Tomi described her appearance:
“She was wearing some type of black leather expensive looking pants, brown suede hiking boots, a white/cream ribbed polo necked sweater and a beige wool blazer and a navy blue wool jacket with belt and a navy wool cap and red suede gloves, wine/red gloves. She was dressed very well. She had her hair tied back.”
As to her demeanor, this seems to have grown with the telling. The documentaries made much of the legend of the lady of the lake, whose appearance is reputed to be a harbinger of death. This lurid tale does not feature in the early Garda statements. Tomi remarked that “she was not beaming”, that she may have had something on her mind. His wife Yvonne turned up while they were chatting.
“While we were chatting, Sophie told me that while she was up at the castles she felt this great anxiety almost fear. This is not an uncommon feeling for people who visit the castles. She wasn’t in a cheerful mood but she wasn’t really glum either. She talked about her plans for the future and we spoke about meeting up in Paris in the Spring. She seemed happy to be here and she wanted to be here. She said she liked it here but her husband didn’t. She said she would be back at Easter. We made vague arrangements to meet over the next three days. I gave Sophie some eggs and she left here at about 5.45 p.m.” Yvonne’s estimate of the time she left must be an error. It is more likely she left at around 3:45.
After leaving Dunlough Sophie went to Crookhaven to Sullivans pub, a legendary stop. Here she spoke with the proprietor Billy O’Sullivan and his son Dermot, both of whom speak good French and knew Sophie from prior visits. They also knew her friend Alexandra Lewy. One time Alexandra had arranged to buy a cast iron church gate for Sophie’s birthday, Sophie was fond of antiques and bric-a-brac. Dermot had carried this gate up to the cottage. Sophie asked about getting logs for her fire. Dermot recommended she go to a filling station. She said there was only kindling at the filling stations.
It is interesting that so much of Sophie’s alleged stops and conversations were about fire, kindling, logs etc. Despite this, the photos from her house show she had a lot of fuel. There is a stack of logs, several bales of peat briquettes, what looks to be a 40kg bag of coal and one, perhaps two baskets full of kindling. She had enough for days of fires, unless she lit both hearths, which would be unlikely considering the second hearth did not draft properly, and she was arranging to have it fixed. The kindling may have been bought from Camiers Garage when Kitty Kingston reported meeting her on Friday.
She told her friend Alexandra before she left that she was going to sleep in the guest room because it was the warmest room, being directly above the oil range. There was also a brass bedwarmer found next to her bed. All these details point to Sophie being acutely aware of the cold.
A witness heard her discussing the old Coastguard houses with the Sullivans. These are a prominent landmark visible from O’Sullivan’s pub across the water. The witness left before Sophie did at 4:30pm so she must have returned to the cottage no earlier than 5pm.
The witness noted she was wearing “black leather pants and brown suede desert boots and a long chunky jumper”. This matches well with Tomi Ungerer’s account.
Note the "desert boots" seen by this witness and the "suede hiking boots" mentioned by Tomi Ungerer are probably not the hiking boots she was wearing when she died. The hiking boots she was wearing were very worn, the laces had snapped and had been tied halfway down the lace holes. It looks to me she shoved them on without untying/tying the laces. Sophie would not have visited Schull wearing old worn-out shoes. A pair of dark brown suede "desert boots" are visible at the bottom of the stairs in the garda photos. These match better with the shoes seen by the witness.
It’s 25 minutes drive from Crookhaven back to the cottage so if Sophie left at 4:30 she would have been back home before 5pm.
We know she most likely went home, because at 5:32pm she called her friend Agnès Thomas to wish her a happy birthday. Agnès was out so Sophie left a message.
The postman called at 6pm and noted the lights were on. Presumably he was doing a Sunday shift to cope with the Christmas rush. He didn’t see Sophie’s car, but as he only went as far as the lower gate, it is quite possible he missed it.
At 7:30pm she called her housekeeper Josephine but she was out. She tried her again at 9:10pm but again she was out. Josephine returned and called her back at 10pm. Sophie told her she would be leaving on the 24th, not the 26th as she originally intended. They arranged to meet the following day at noon.
Sophie’s phone records were not available, as the exchange she was on was a traditional analogue exchange, with no recording facility. Schull was one of the last places in the country to have such an old system. Days later Garda technicians tried to retrieve call details from her cordless phone but its batteries were flat and nothing was found.
At around 10:30pm she called her husband Daniel, who said he couldn’t take her call. He said he was in a meeting with Unifrance associates. As it was nearly midnight in France, this an unusual time to have a work meeting. Daniel called her back “about twelve minutes later”. He said she was sleepy and probably in bed. Given that the cordless phone was found next to her bed, this seems plausible. He also said that she told him about her visit to the Ungerers and had formed a work project with him. He said she told him she returned home at 9:30pm, but he could be wrong about this. The phone calls to her friend and housekeeper strongly suggest she was at home from 5:30pm.
This was the last anyone heard from Sophie until her body was discovered at 10am the following morning.
From this point all we have is are the police photos and the story they tell is ambiguous, there are multiple possible interpretations.
The fire was lit that evening and there was an empty wine glass on the mantlepiece with dregs of wine in it. There was a loaf of bread, a white crusty “basket loaf” which had been sliced and left open. This is odd as there are no crumbs visible on the table and no plate. Would Sophie have gone to bed leaving the bread out? It’s possible. Another possibility is that the bread was sliced in the morning. But if so where is the plate that she used?
Conceivably Sophie may have left these items from another evening, but it is more likely she consumed the wine that evening, possibly with some cheese she had in her pantry, and the bread she had cut. There was a book open on the table, propped open by a jar of honey next to an empty teacup. However as the cordless phone was found by her bedside, it seems likely this was all left from the previous evening.
It seems the most likely Sophie spent her last night reading, went to bed and then took the call from Daniel.
The book propped open was not a Yeat’s anthology. There is a tale repeated by many true crime authors that Sophie was reading a Yeats poem called “A Dream Death”. It contains the lines
I DREAMED that one had died in a strange place Near no accustomed hand,
Ralph Riegel titled his book after this poem. But this is not the poem she was reading, if any. Yes there was a Yeats anthology found on her bed, but not the bed she slept in, it was on the bed in her personal room which she didn’t use that weekend. The anthology is “Quarente-cinq poèmes suivi de La Résurrection”, a collection of later Yeats poems translated by Yves Bonnefoy. It does not contain the poem “A Dream of Death” but it does contain a poem called “Death”, a meditation on how animals die versus men.
Nor dread nor hope attend A dying animal; A man awaits his end Dreading and hoping all;
But the Yeats anthology is not open on the bed, it is closed in the police photos. Unless the Gardai picked it up before photographing the room, then we cannot be sure what poem or poems she read. As regards the book propped open on the kitchen table, it’s prose and it is French. Journalist Lara Marlowe wrote that the book open on the table was a book about lighthouses.
Among the exhibits the Gardai took are three books
  1. Le Coeur Battant – “The beating heart” – this is the title of a 1960 French movie.
  2. Le Tenes Vert – Unknown – looks like a transcription error by the Gardai, could be “Les Terres Vertes”
  3. Le Cine Monde – World Cinema
Other books in the house seem to correspond well with what we know of her character. On the landing there is another book from an Irish writer, Sean O’Casey, “Les Tambours de Dublin” in French.
On the shelf in her box bedroom we can see a book by Virginia Woolf, the title itself is illegible in the photo but Woolf’s distinctive profile photo is visible on the spine. I wonder if the book might be “A Room of one’s Own”. This essay advocated that a woman writer could never accomplish anything unless she had financial independence and her own space to work in. Even if it was some other book by Woolf, this essay would have been known to Sophie. It hints at what the white cottage meant to her. Her tiny box room tucked under the gable and raised single bed was a quasi-monastic cell - a creative space, a room of her own in West Cork.
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2024.05.11 02:05 FantasticVictory837 Bluebook Test 6: Reading/Writing Module 2 Hard, Question #10

Bluebook Test 6: Reading/Writing Module 2 Hard, Question #10 submitted by FantasticVictory837 to u/FantasticVictory837 [link] [comments]


2024.05.11 00:07 Erdwald Searching for a co-author or writing buddy (writing in German)

Hi,
I'm searching for someone who writes/works with me on storys/novels/everything. I always wanted to write a novel with someone since I can't get myself to go further than 20k words when writing alone before I question all my plot decisions.
My English is definitely not good enough to write more than short stories in English. I'm from Germany, and 90% of the time I write in German.
I'm female, 24 years old and haven't published anything yet.
I prefer writing fantasy/magical young adult/teen stuff with deep emotions and complex characters, but not only that. Furthermore, I visited four or more writing workshops and would like to share all the input I got. Also, I love brainstorming together about your stories, my stories or our stories. I already wrote a short screenplay script, two PC game scripts, plenty of short stories and poems, and a handful of potential One-Day-Novel-Beginnings. xD
I know chances are low to find someone writing in German who fits with my writing style/genre, but I want to try.
Currently, I'm studying and working part-time, so I have a lot of time in some phases and then very little again.
My favorite author is Rick Riordan. Most of the time, I don't read, but I watch series. My favorite series are: Doctor Who, The Owl House, Percy Jackson, Loki, Heartstopper, The Dragon Prince, Stranger Things, Ghosts (US), Secrets of Sulphur Springs, Miraculous, Undone, Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist, Once Upon a Time, The Outpost, WandaVision, Heartland, Nobody's Looking, Good Witch, 3Below, Last Kids on Earth, Supernatural, MLP (Gen4 Friendship is Magic), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Forever, Lucifer, Daredevil.
Now you know what kind of stories I like.
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2024.05.10 20:04 Vukobasa An observer in the Near East: MONTENEGRO (1907)

An observer in the Near East: MONTENEGRO (1907)
ΜΟΝΤΕΝEGRO
CHAPTER I
THE CITY IN THE SKY
Why I went to the Balkans―The road to Montenegro―Cettinje and its petroleum tins―About the blood-feud―England and Montenegro―Warned not to attempt to go to Albania―My guide a marked man-The story of Tef―A woman's fickleness, and its sequel.
CHAPTER II
AN AUDIENCE OF PRINCE NICHOLAS
The Palace at Cettinje―A cigarette with the Prince―The policy of Montenegro―A confidential chat―His Royal Highness's admiration for England―His views upon Macedonia―He urges me not to attempt to go to Albania. but I persuade him to help me―His Highness's kindness―Souvenirs.
**
CHAPTER I
THE CITY IN THE SKY
Why I went to the Balkans— The road to Montenegro — Cettinje and its petroleum tins — About the blood-feud — England and Montenegro — Warned not to attempt to go to Albania — My guide a marked man — The story of Tef — A woman's fickleness, and its sequel.
I ENTERED the Balkans by the back door. The luxuries of the Orient Express had no attraction for me. I wanted to see the Balkans as they really are, those great, wild, mountainous countries, so full of race hatreds, of political bickerings, of fierce blood-feuds, of feverish propa- gandas those nations with their interesting monarchs and their many mysteries.
The "Orient" runs direct from Paris to the Balkan capitals, it is true, but if one goes to study a people the capital is not the only place in which to discover the truth. One must go into the country, move among the peasantry, hear their grievances and investigate their wrongs. Therefore I decided to enter the East by Montenegro, and also visit the wild and little-known regions of Northern Albania.
The comfortable voyage by the Austrian-Lloyd mail steamer Graf Wurmbrand from Trieste down the Adriatic, touching at Pola, the Austrian naval station, Lussinpiccolo, Zara- famed for its maraschino-Sebenico, Spalato, and Gravosa to Cattaro, has been already described by many writers. Suffice it to say that it is perhaps one of the most picturesque of pleasure-trips in the world, for every moment one has a fresh panorama of mountain and blue sea, of green, fertile islands with subtropical vegetation, and tiny white villages nestling at the sea's edge, as the steamer threads her way through the narrow and often difficult channels.
At times the wild scenery, especially in the Bocche di Cattaro, reminds the traveller of the Norwegian fiords, and at others the coast is an almost exact reproduction of the French Riviera.
The object of my journey was, however, not in order to write a mere description of men and places. There have been other travellers in the Balkans who have related their story, therefore my mission was to make careful inquiry into the present unsettled state of affairs, try and discover the grievances of both sides, and endeavour to obtain from the rulers and statesmen of the various nations their aspirations for the future. This I succeeded in doing, for the various monarchs of the Balkans graciously gave me audience; and from their Ministers, from the middle classes, and from the peasants, I was enabled at last to form some conclusion as to the real situation-political, economical, social, and financial.
The writer who attempts to place the various Balkan questions impartially and clearly before the public will at once find himself utterly confused, and wallowing wildly in a morass of misstatement and misrepresentation. The Balkans are torn by race hatreds, party strife, and the intrigues of the Powers. The Turk hates the Bulgar, the Serb hates the Austrian, the Roumanian hates the Greek, the Albanian hates the Montenegrin, the Bosnian hates the Turk, while the Macedonian hates everybody all round. What is told to one authoritatively one hour, is flatly contradicted the next; therefore it is not in the least surprising that in the European Press there have been so many misstatements about the various Balkan questions, the real truth being so very difficult to obtain.
I have, however, endeavoured to obtain it, and at risk of being injudicious, to place before the reader the facts as they are, without any political bias, or any seeking to gloss over the many glaring defects of administration of which I have myself been witness.
To describe the beauties of the Bocche di Cattaro, that series of winding channels where the high grey mountains rise sheer from the water, would be only to traverse old ground. Suffice it to say that I landed at Cattaro on a bright, sunny noon, and found upon the quay a tall, lean mountaineer who had been sent to meet me.
To the traveller fresh from the West the Montenegrin costume of both women and men is very attractive, but a few days in the Balkans soon accustoms the eye to a perfect phantasmagoria of colour and of costume. Pero was my driver's name, and I noticed that around his waist was a revolver belt, but minus the weapon. I inquired where it was, and with a grin he informed me that Cattaro, being in Dalmatia, the Austrians would not allow Montenegrins to bring arms into their country; so they were compelled to leave them on the other side of the frontier, ten kilometres distant.
My bags packed upon the three-horse travelling carriage and secured with many strings, and Pero equipped with a plentiful stock of cigarettes, he mounted upon the box, whipped up his long-tailed ponies, and we started on our eight-hour ascent of that great wall of mountain that hides Montenegro from the sea.
As we ascended through the little village of Skaljari we entered upon a magnificent road, said to be one of the greatest engineering feats of modern times, and steadily ascended, until at the striped black-and-yellow Austrian boundary post we crossed the frontier, and were in the "Land of the Black Mountain"-Montenegro. Across the road, at an acute angle, a row of paving-stones marks the frontier, and soon after- wards we found ourselves in the wildest and most desolate mountain region. At a lonely roadside hut Pero obtained his big, serviceable-looking revolver, and I, of course, wore mine in my belt; for in Montenegro or Albania arms make the man. A man unarmed is looked upon as an effeminate coward. Indeed, by order of Prince Nicholas every Monte- negrin must wear the national dress, both men and women, and every man must carry his revolver when out of doors.
Four hours from Cattaro we were in a lonely mountain fastness, a wild, desolate, treeless region of huge limestone rocks of peculiar volcanic formation, which gave them the appearance of a boiling sea. The views over the Adriatic as we turned back were so superb that, despite photographing being strictly forbidden on account of the fortresses in the vicinity, I could not resist the temptation to take one or two surreptitiously. On, through a bleak, uninhabited country, we at last reached the guard-house of Kerstac, and then half an hour later found ourselves upon a plateau where, in the centre, stood the small clean village of Nyegush, the ancestral home of the reigning family, and the scene of most of the Montenegrin wars of independence. Here we halted for half an hour at the post-house, and before we left, the big, lumbering post-diligence, with its armed guard, came up behind us.
Before we moved off again it had grown dark, the moon shone, and for four hours longer we alternately climbed and descended through that wild region of silence and desolation, until at last we saw, deep below, the lights of Cettinje, the little capital, and an hour later brought us to the unpre- tending "Grand" Hotel.
Hardly had I entered my room when there came a loud knock at my door, and a tall, scarlet-coated Montenegrin warrior, armed to the teeth, entered and saluted. For a moment I looked up at him aghast, but the mystery was solved when, next second, he handed me with great ceremony a telegram from a dear friend in England wishing me God- speed. I had taken him to be, at least, one of the Prince's bodyguard, and he was only a plain telegraph messenger!
This was but one of many surprises in store for me in Montenegro. Next morning I went out to look round the clean little capital, when, on passing the Prince's palace, I saw a number of soldiers drawn up, and as I went by, the band suddenly struck up the British National Anthem! I raised my hat, halted, and stood puzzled. Surely they were not honouring me! Another moment, however, and I recognised the reason. In a carriage, accompanied by the Grand Marechal of the Court, there drove up my friend Mr. Charles des Graz, the newly-appointed British Chargé d'Affaires to Montenegro, who was about to present his creden- tials to His Royal Highness the Prince.
Montenegro is perhaps the most interesting country in all the Balkans. Cettinje, a small, clean town of broad streets and one-storeyed, whitewashed houses, is a little city in the sky, lying as it does in a cup-shaped depression at the summit of a high, bare mountain. Its long, straight, main street reminds one very much of a small country town in England, if it were not that everyone is, by law, compelled to wear the national dress, and every man has in his belt his big, long- barrelled revolver, without which he must never go out of doors.
The men, sturdy mountaineers, are of fine physique- handsome fellows, all of them. Their dress consists of dark blue baggy trousers, white woollen gaiters, raw-hide shoes, a scarlet jacket heavily braided with gold, and a small round cap, with black silk around the edge and the crown of the same colour as the jacket, bearing the Prince's initials in Servian letters, "H.I." The women, who are particularly good-looking, wear dark skirts, beautifully hand-embroidered blouses, and a kind of long coat, with open sleeves of soft, dove-grey cloth. Forbidden to wear European hats, they are compelled to adopt an exactly similar cap to the men, except that the crown is embroidered instead of bearing the royal initials.
Nowhere have I seen such glorification of the male as in Montenegro. To the men, born fighters as they are, work is undignified; therefore the women toil while the opposite sex look on. I saw women employed in building operations and performing work which, in other countries, is left to day- labourers.
Cettinje is quaint in the extreme. The only houses of foreigners are the various Legations, and the only foreigners are diplomats with their wives and families. The first thing that strikes the stranger is the number of petroleum tins. Opposite the hotel I saw a great ring of empty tins, numbering some hundreds, ranged around a fountain. A few women were squatting gossiping, and an armed policeman lounged against the water-source. On inquiry, I found that there was a water famine, and the tins had been placed there at dawn to await the moment when the authorities thought fit to allow the people to get their daily supply. The women had gone away to work, and would return later. The Monte- negrins a short time ago constructed a reservoir, but there was a crack in it, so the water ran away. Hence the famine.
The petroleum tin is never out of sight for a single moment in Cettinje. At any hour, and in any street, you see women and children carrying them. They are used for everything, from milk-pails to flower-pots.
In Cettinje one comes for the first time up against the dark-faced, scowling Albanian in his tightly fitting trousers of white wool striped with black, his dirty white fez, and the swagger of superiority in his gait. He is well armed, and for a good reason. The Montenegrin hates the Albanian, because of the constant border feuds over at Podgoritza, where blood is constantly spilt, and where I have seen a Montenegrin in the market squatting over a basket of apples with a loaded rifle.
That morning I was chatting to a man in Montenegrin dress, of whom I had bought some excellent cigarettes, manufactured by the Montenegro Tobacco Monopoly-an Italian syndicate, by the way and happened to mention that I was on my way to Albania. "Ah, gospodin!" he exclaimed, holding up both his hands, and glancing at the revolver in my belt. "Take my advice.
Don't go into Albania or Macedonia. You are not safe there from one moment to the other. For half a word they'll shoot you dead as easily as they drink a glass of wine. No man's life is worth a moment's purchase there. I'm Albanian myself from Kroja-and I know."
This was scarcely reassuring. I looked about me on every hand as I strolled through Cettinje. All was so quiet, so orderly, so very peaceful there, even though the big, burly mountaineers in the gold-laced jackets eyed me with askance as I passed. Not without some trepidation I took a number of photographs, for I had heard that, like the Turk, the Monte- negrin was averse to having his counterfeit presentment put upon paper. Nevertheless, the first feeling of insecurity having passed, I very soon found myself quite at home in Cettinje, and in the midst of very good and kind friends.
A good many foreigners come up from Cattaro to pry about Cettinje for a day or two, buy picture-postcards and antique arms, sneer at the honest Montenegrin, and return into Dalmatia. Towards such, the Montenegrin is not par- ticularly polite. But those who go to Cettinje to seriously and thoroughly study the people and their future will find a great deal of genuine and charming hospitality.
My first day in Cettinje was lonely. Afterwards, until I left, I was always with friends and officials, who took the greatest trouble to answer my questions and explain matters.
Montenegro is entirely unlike any other country in the world. Its air of antiquity is particularly pleasing, while on every hand the beneficent rule of Prince Nicholas is apparent. Every man in Montenegro swears by his Prince, whom he almost worships. They call him their "father," and if His Royal Highness raised the standard of war to- morrow, every man would rise and fight to the death. The Prince is accessible to all his people-more so to them, indeed, than to the diplomats. Sometimes, early in the morning, he will sit in an arm-chair on the steps leading to the entrance of his palace, and there hear the complaints or petitions of his people. In this patriarchal way he often ministers justice. Last year he granted Montenegro a Constitution, and there is now a Skupshtina similar to that of Servia; but the people have not yet quite understood that in future they must go to the Ministers, and not to their Prince. They will see him, and nobody else.
In no country is loyalty and patriotism so strong as in Montenegro. The army is well trained, and the whole country being one huge natural fortress, a foreign enemy would experience enormous difficulty in gaining entrance. In Cettinje, even a constant traveller like myself meets with continual surprises. One day, while walking at the rear of the Bigliardo, or old palace-so called because when built the first billiard table was introduced-I heard the sound of clanking chains behind me. At first I took no notice, but as it continued with regular rhythm I glanced behind, when, to my amaze- ment, I saw a convict in leg-fetters with difficulty taking his afternoon stroll beneath the trees! There were several others on the grass plot before the prison, idling in the shadow or gossiping with their friends, who had come to keep them company!
Inquiriesshowed that most of these prisoners were murderers, not for robbery but for vendetta. In Montenegro the blood- feud is constant, and life is held very cheap. It invariably commences by jealousy, and is of everyday occurrence. Two lovers quarrel, and one is shot. Then the blood-feud commences, and unlike in Italy or other Southern countries, the vendetta is not only upon the murderer, but upon his next-of-kin. Therefore, if the assassin escapes into Servia, Bosnia, or Turkey, as he so often does, the brother of the dead man takes up the feud and kills the assassin's brother without parley when next he meets him. I myself saw a man shot dead one night in Ryeka, at the head of the Lake of Scutari, and the murderer walked coolly away undeterred. It was the blood-feud, and no one took much notice.
"S'bogom!" (God be with you!) It is the expression you hear on every hand in the Balkans. In the streets the peasants touch their round caps in salute and exclaim, "S'bogom!" When you leave for a journey and when you return, when you rise and when you go to rest; even if you go for a short walk-it is the same. Life is so uncertain in those wild regions that the protection of the Almighty is invoked upon you always, and your revolver is ever ready in your belt.
In Cettinje I had a faithful guide and servant, a black-eyed, somewhat sinister-looking Albanian, named Palok. He travelled with me through Montenegro and Albania, and was most faithful and devoted. Besides Albanian and Serb he spoke a little Italian, and possessed a keen sense of humour.
One day, while we were travelling through the wild, bare mountain, a perfect wilderness of huge boulders without a single tree or even blade of grass, we halted for our midday meal, and while eating he told me of a great friend of his who had recently been killed at Spuz for vendetta, and he added, fondling the butt of his revolver, "I too, gospodin, shall die before long."
I looked at him in surprise. His usually humorous face had changed. It was dark and thoughtful, and his black eyes were fixed upon me.
"Is there a blood-feud upon you, then?" I asked, in surprise.
"Yes," he replied briefly; and though I endeavoured to persuade him to tell the story, it was not until the following day that with some reluctance he explained.
"A year ago my brother Tef, away in Scutari, fell in love with a beautiful girl. He had a rival-a young Albanian, a coppersmith in the bazaar. They quarrelled, but the girl-ah! she was very beautiful-preferred Tef. Where- upon the rival one night took his rifle and laid in wait for my brother in the main street of Scutari. Early in the evening he left the house of the girl's father, and as he passed the fellow shot poor Tef dead."
And he paused as his brow knit deeply, and his teeth were set tightly.
"Well?" I asked.
"Well, gospodin. What would you have done had your own brother died a dog's death? I took a rifle, and within a week the murderer was in his grave. I shot him through the heart and then I left Scutari."
"And you are safe here, in Montenegro ?"
"Safe! Oh dear, no," he answered. "One day-it may be to-day-the fellow's brother will kill me. He must kill me. It is Fate-why worry about it? It does one no good."
And the marked man, the man doomed to die at a moment when he least expects it, rolled a cigarette and lit it with perfect resignment.
"And are you not afraid to go with me back to Scutari?" I asked, amazed at his fearlessness.
"Afraid, gospodin!" he exclaimed, looking at me in reproach as his hand instinctively wandered to his weapon. "Afraid! No Albanian is afraid of the blood-feud. I have killed the murderer, and his brother must kill me. It is our law." And the doomed man smiled gravely.
"And the girl?" I asked.
"Ah! They are all the same," he answered, with a quick shrug of the shoulders. "A month ago she married a tobacco- seller a man old enough to be her father. Poor Tef! If he could but know!"
"And the blood-feud still continues?"
"Of course-until I am dead."
Then Palok smoked on in silence, entirely resigned to the fate that awaits him. He knows that one day, as he walks along the road, the sharp crack of a hidden rifle will sound, and he will fall to earth, another victim of a woman's fickleness.
S'bogom! God be with you!
CHAPTER II
AN AUDIENCE OF PRINCE NICHOLAS
The Palace at Cettinje-A cigarette with the Prince-The policy of Monte- negro-A confidential chat-His Royal Highness's admiration for England-His views upon Macedonia-He urges me not to attempt to go to Albania, but I persuade him to help me-His Highness's kindness -Souvenirs.
HIS Royal Highness the Prince will be pleased to grant you private audience at four o'clock this after- noon, gospodin."
The tall, burly aide-de-camp in the little round cap, high boots, pale blue overcoat, and pistols in his belt, saluted, and we shook hands.
It was then three o'clock, and I was just about to go out to visit Madame Constantinovitch, the mother of Princess Mirko. So I had to return at once to my room and dress for the audience. The kings and princes of the Balkans have a habit of summoning one at a moment's notice, and paying visits at unearthly hours.
Here, in Cettinje, in the heart of these wild, desolate fast- nesses, one seems so far removed from European influence, yet how great a part has this rocky, impregnable country, with its fierce soldier-inhabitants, played in the politics of Eastern Europe, and how great a part it is still destined to play in the near future!
The fact that everybody is armed gives the stranger an uncanny feeling. The man who brings one's coffee wears a perfect arsenal of weapons in his sash, and one quickly acquires the habit of carrying a revolver one's self. Indeed, if you are wise, you will carry a good serviceable weapon from the moment you enter the Balkans to the moment you quit them. But if you approach the Albanian frontier, you will be at once warned not to fire without just cause. A few shots is sufficient to alarm the whole neighbourhood for many miles, and on hearing the alarm every man seizes his rifle and flies to the rendezvous, fully equipped and eager for the fight with those Albanian border tribes, of whom I afterwards had the good fortune to be the guest.
I had already had a long chat with Prince Danilo, the Crown Prince of Montenegro, whom I found a very smart and highly educated man, fully alive to the political difficulties of the neighbouring states and the necessity of Montenegro preserving her independence. He held very strong views upon the terrible state of affairs in Macedonia, and gave me many interesting details about his own country.
Having met him, and also his younger brother, Prince Mirko, I was particularly anxious to make the acquaintance of their father, Prince Nicholas, the ruler of the sturdy, warlike dwellers of the "Land of the Black Mountain "-the principal and most striking figure in this remarkable country, where peace and war walk ever hand-in-hand.
Since 1860, when his uncle, Prince Danilo, was assassinated, he has ruled justly, if somewhat sternly, and has succeeded in raising his nation from a state of semi-civilisation to the high place it now occupies in the Eastern world. In 1888 he gave the country a Civil and Criminal Code, and last year he granted a Constitution. Indeed, he has done all in his power to induce his warriors to follow the arts of peace without forgetting those of war.
At the hour appointed, the royal aide-de-camp called in a carriage and drove me to the Palace, a long, dark brown building of somewhat plain exterior, as befits the home of a fighting race, where I was received in the great hall by half a dozen bowing servants in scarlet and gold. Here I was met by the chamberlain, who conducted me up the grand staircase and into the great audience-chamber, with its many fine paintings and highly polished floor. Then, after a moment, the Prince-a brilliant figure-entered, shook me by the hand, and welcomed me to Montenegro.
These formalities ended, His Royal Highness said in Italian, "Come, let us go into yonder room. We shall be able to talk there more comfortably." And he led me into a smaller chamber, where he gave me a seat at the table where he sat.
The afternoon was gloomy, and dusk was creeping on, therefore upon the table a great antique silver candelabra had been set, and by its light I was enabled to obtain a good view of the ruler of Crnagora, the "Land of the Black Mountain."
Of magnificent physique, tall, muscular, with hair slightly grey, he bore his sixty-five years lightly. Attired in the splendid national costume of scarlet, blue, and gold, with high boots, he wore a single decoration at his throat, the Cross of Danilo, of which Order he is Master. Upon his hand- some, well-cut features the candles shed a soft light, causing the gold upon his dress to glitter, and I noticed, as I asked him questions, how his dark, keen eyes shot quick, inquiring glances of alertness.
After the first few minutes of regal formality His Highness's manner entirely changed. Putting ceremony aside, he pro- duced his cigarette case of crocodile skin, with the royal crown and cipher in gold in the corner-offered me a Montenegrin cigarette, took one himself, lit mine with his own hand, and then we fell to chatting.
In the delightful hour and a half we smoked together I asked the prince-poet many questions, and learnt many things. He explained several difficult points in Balkan politics, which to me, an Englishman, had always been puzzling. We spoke in Italian of Macedonia and of a certain well-known foreign diplomat in London who was our mutual friend, the Prince giving me a very kind message to deliver to him.
Presently I referred to the splendid result of his rule, and related to him a little incident which had occurred to me in Nyegush a few days before, as showing how deeply he was beloved by his nation. A smile crossed his fine open countenance as he replied simply, "I have done my best for my people-my very best; and I shall do so as long as God gives me life. I am happy to believe that my people appreciate my efforts."
"And now, Monseigneur," I asked, "will you tell me what is the present position of Montenegro?"
"The present position is peace," was his prompt answer. "I have granted a Constitution, and the first meeting of the new Skupshtina has been held successfully. Though the Albanian question is always with us, I am thankful to say we are on the most excellent terms with Turkey, while towards Russia we are pursuing our traditional policy. For the Emperor Francis Josef of Austria I have nothing but the most profound admiration, and I owe very much to him."
"And towards England, Monseigneur ?"
"England has been, as you know, Montenegro's very best friend," replied the Prince. "I, personally, have the greatest respect and admiration for your great country. We Montenegrins always remember that it was Mr. Gladstone who gave us the strip of seaboard on the Adriatic with Dulcigno. He was our greatest friend, and his memory is respected by admirer by every man in Montenegro. Of Tennyson, too, I am a great I am very fond of his poems."
"You are a poet yourself, Monseigneur," I remarked, remembering that more than one poetical drama from his pen had been successfully produced on the stage.
His Royal Highness smiled, and puffed slowly at his cigarette.
"I have written one or two little things, it is true; but nothing of late."
"I wonder if I dare ask your Royal Highness to write a few lines for me as a souvenir of my visit?" I asked, not without some trepidation.
"Ah!-well-I won't promise," he laughed. "All depends whether I'm in the mood for it."
"But you will try, won't you?
And the Prince nodded assent.
Then we spoke of Servia and of recent events there; but he was not inclined to discuss the question, and naturally so, when it is remembered that his daughter was the late wife of King Peter.
Returning to the burning question of Macedonia, I saw that he was well informed of all that was transpiring around lakes Presba and Ochrida and down in Serres.
"It is a monstrous state of affairs," he declared. "Something must be done at once, for as soon as spring comes again the massacres will increase."
"But there are outrages, tortures, and massacres every day," I remarked.
"Ah yes," he sighed, "I know. Most terrible details have reached me lately. But you are going to Macedonia yourself, and you will see with your own eyes."
"And what, in your opinion, would be the best settlement of the question?" I inquired.
"There is but one way, namely, for the Powers to call a conference and place Macedonia under a governor - general, who must be a European prince. The reforms would then be carried out, and the Greek bands expelled from the country. How long will Europe tolerate the present frightful state of affairs?"
"The fact is, Monseigneur, that we, in England, are very ignorant of the true state of things, or even of the facts of the Macedonian question," I said.
"Ah, there you are quite correct. If your English public knew what was really happening-how an innocent Christian population is being slaughtered and exterminated because of international rivalry-they would cry shame upon those responsible for this wholesale murder and outrage. But" -he smiled-" I almost forget myself. My position as a ruler forbids me to talk politics, you know!" And we laughed together.
"So you are going to Servia, Bulgaria, Roumania, and to Constantinople-eh?" he remarked a little later, when we had lit fresh cigarettes. "In Bulgaria, and also in Roumania, you will see many things that will interest you. The Bul- garians are very strongly armed, and so are the Roumanians."
"Her Majesty the Queen of Roumania has also promised me audience," I said.
"When you see her, will you please present to Her Majesty my most cordial respects. She is so very charming."
"I want, Monseigneur, to visit Northern Albania, leaving Montenegro by Ryeka and Scutari. Would that be the best route, do you think?"
"What!" he exclaimed, in surprise. "Do you actually contemplate visiting the tribes up in the Accursed Mountains?"
"Certainly. Why not?"
"Well, my advice is, don't think of going there. If you do, you will never return. You'll be shot at sight, like a dog. You have no idea what those uncivilised tribes are like. The whole country is utterly lawless."
"So I understand. But I've also heard that the Albanian possesses a deep sense of honour. And I thought that I might possibly obtain permission from one or other of the chiefs."
The Prince was silent for a moment. Then, looking at me across the table, said-
"Do not go. It is far too great a risk."
His advice was the same that my, friends in London had given me; the same that I had received there, in the market-place of Cettinje.
But I was determined, and pressed His Royal Highness to assist me, at last receiving his promise of help. By his kind permission, the Albanian named Palok acted as my guide, and what eventually happened to me in that wild region will be seen in the following pages.
"Well," exclaimed the Prince at last, "if you go up there, it must be at your own risk. I've warned you of the danger. No one has been up there for many years. It has been at- tempted, of course, but travellers have either been held to ransom, and the Turks have been compelled to pay for their release, or else they have simply been shot by the first Albanian meeting them. The country beyond Scutari is the most unsafe in the whole Balkan Peninsula."
I replied that I intended to make the attempt.
"Well, then, I wish you buon viaggio," he laughed. "May every good luck attend you, and as we say in Montenegro - S'bogom! (God be with you!) When you return for I suppose you will pass this way down to the sea-come and see me, and tell me all about the Skreli and Kastrati country -for of course I am highly interested. They are always at war with our people on the frontier."
"I will let your Royal Highness know the moment I am back in Cettinje," I promised.
Then rising, he gripped my hand warmly, saying-
"Then I will help you if I can. Be careful of yourself, for I shall be anxious about you. Again, S'bogom!"
And the Prince accompanied me to the head of the grand staircase, where I made my obeisance, turned and descended through the rows of armed and bowing servants ranged in the hall, charmed by His Royal Highness's graciousness towards me and by the pleasant chat I had enjoyed.
When, after my journey through Northern Albania, I one afternoon re-entered that audience-chamber, and he came forward with outstretched hand to greet me, he exclaimed-
"Well, well! I am so glad to see you back safe and sound. You look a little thinner in the face a little travel-worn- eh? Life in the Albanian mountains is not like your life in London or Paris, is it? But never mind as long as you are safe," he laughed, placing his hand kindly upon my shoulder.
"Come along to this room. It is more cosy," and he led me to the smaller apartment, his own private cabinet.
For nearly two hours I sat relating to him what occurred on my journey, and describing the wild country which had, until then, been practically a sealed book. Even though Cettinje is so near, hardly anything was known of the Skreli, the Hoti, the Klementi, or the Kastrati tribes, save that they were brigandish bands who constantly raided the Montenegrin frontier.
The Prince listened to me with great attention, and put many questions to me as we smoked together.
Then rising, he took from a drawer in his great writing- table a small scarlet box, and as he opened it he bestowed upon me a compliment undeserved, for he said -
"There are few men who would have risked what you have done. Therefore I wish to invest you with our Order of Danilo, as a mark of my appreciation and esteem."
And he displayed to me the beautiful dark blue and white enamelled cross of the Order, the same that he was wearing at his throat, surmounted by the royal crown and suspended upon the white ribbon edged with cerise.
After he had invested me with the Order, saying many kind things to me, which I really don't think I deserved, he added-
"The chef du chancellerie will send you the diploma in due course, and I trust, when you petition your own gracious Sovereign King Edward, that His Majesty will allow you to wear this insignia."
I thanked His Royal Highness, gripped his hand, and a few minutes later passed through the line of bowing servants out of the Palace.
And that same evening I received from His Royal Highness the signed photograph which appears in these pages.
Before I left Cettinje I received the following expressive lines, written especially for me by a Montenegrin poet who is a great personage, but whose name he would not permit me to give. They are in Servian as follows, and I have placed their English translation below :-
S' veledušnog Albiona
Pružiše se dvije ruke
Crnoj Gori da pomogu
U junačke njene muke
S' vrućom rječu na ustima
Gladston diže Crnogorce
A Tenison za najprve
U svijet ih broi borce
Na glas svoih Velikana
Britanski se narod trže
Da pomože da zaštiti
Crnu Goru iz najbrže
Posla svoje bojne ladje
Sto na tečnost gospostvuju
Veledušno da zaštite
Domovinu milu Moju
O fala ti po sto puta
Blagorodni lyudi Soju
Dok je svjeta dok je greda
Nad Ulcinjem koje stoju
Hraniće ti blagodarnost
Ova šaka sokolova
Koima si u pomoci
Stiga putem od valova.
The literal translation in English is as follows:-
From the great-souled Albion,
Two arms were stretched
To help Montenegro
In her heroic sufferings.
With fiery word on his lips
Gladstone lifts up Montenegrins,
Whilst Tennyson declared them
The very first fighters in the world.
On the call of their great men,
British people rose up
In quickest manner, to help
And to protect Montenegro.
They despatched their war-ships,
Which rule over the seas,
Generously to protect
My Fatherland so dear to me.
Oh! thanks to thee, hundredfold thanks,
Noble race of men.
As long as the world lasts,
As long as the mountains above Dulcigno stand,
Will remain grateful to thee,
This handful of falcons,
To whose help thou didst come
By the road of the waves.
- An Observer in the Near East - William Le Queux. Publisher, E. Nash, 1907.
\**
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2024.05.10 18:14 Economy-Payment9031 My new zine on the Garages of San Francisco

My new zine on the Garages of San Francisco
Hi all! I wanted to tell you all about my new zine, which is photos of garage doors in San Francisco along with a poem and some information about some of the artists who paint garage door murals in the city. I got it printed in a square format like the Garage Doors themselves and the spiral binding at the top is like the springs that lift up the garages.
I got it printed over at mixam.com and they did a really good job. I laid out the zine in Affinity Publisher. Mixam didnt support doing the spiral binding along the top edge (they only do the side edge) so I had to set the margins really wide to keep the spiral in mind as I designed it and then rotated the pages sideways in preview after I exported it from Affinity.
I would love for you to check it out over at Etsy
https://beautifulxsomethings.etsy.com/listing/1728632289
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2024.05.10 13:50 somuchsong Anyone remember what this book was called?

The post about the Dinky Diary reminded me of another relic from my childhood.
I remember having a book that I think was called something with "me" in the title. Possibly even just "Me". It was like a diary/time capsule. You were supposed to fill in info about yourself and look back on it in years to come. Some pages I remember were a list of your nicknames, TV shows you weren't allowed to watch and a poem or song you'd written. There was also space to glue things in, like photos or special mementos like movie/concert tickets.
I think I remember the book being advertised on ABC, so I think it was probably their publication and sold in ABC Shops. This would have been about 1990. Does it ring any bells for anyone?
submitted by somuchsong to AustralianNostalgia [link] [comments]


2024.05.10 09:29 freakyfreakycreepy [Thank You] for helping me though a rough time with reminding me that I am not alone and I am loved. I love you all!!

u/TyeDyeAmish thank you so much for the card, I'm happy to hear from you.🖤
u/notthemonth thank you so much for the beautiful space card, it's so pretty 😍
u/TheFeistyFox thank you so much for the card and your words. I love the last stanza of Funeral Blues, I appreciate you sharing it.
2x u/PinkPenguin thank you so much for the penguin bingo card! Sounds like lots of fun! Also, thank you for the card you sent in memory of Shirley. It's beautiful and your words mean a lot. I love you!! 🖤✨
u/major_ad5436 thank you so much for the bird card, it's hilarious!
u/Cassiopeia88 thank you so much for the seal card, it's great!
u/grasshopper2231 thank you so much for the card. I'm happy to hear about your travelling plans and I can't wait to hear how it went!
u/sadbrokehitchhiker thank you so much for the long necked Karen card!
u/YESmynameisYES thank you so much for the pretty card and your kind words. I've lost quite a few people just as pets and animals, and it feels definitely very different to lose a person vs a pet/animal but also feels similar? I don't know how to describe it any better. I definitely needed a reminder to be kind to myself as I tend to treat myself badly in times like now. Thank you so much for adding those cute dragon stickers, they are wonderful!
u/t3ctim thank you so much for the sharkplane and moose card and the poem. It's perfect!!
u/thecaledonianrose thank you so much for the card, stickers and your words. It means a lot and it helps so much to not feel alone. I appreciate you so much.🖤✨
u/unseenbowl thank you so much for the spring card! My spring season is mostly about my veggie and flower patches. Everything starts to grow - some plants like my potatoes and radishes are already so huuge while others like my peppers, cucumbers and carrots are really small still. I love to watch them grow and I can't wait to harvest✨ this year is my first year with corn and I can't wait to see how they grow and what they taste like compared to store-bought. We do have a weekly farmers market nearby and I love it a lot. Also, we've been to a medieval festival day thingy and I hope there will be more markets and festivals around to visit.
2x u/SweetyDarlingLulu thank you so much for the card and your kind words. Shirley was the bestest dog around, I swear. She's the cutest and I still can't believe she's gone. It's been two weeks now and it didn't get any easier yet,... My tattoo artist had time for me last week and I have her paw under my skin now. It's the paw I held when she crossed the rainbow bridge right above the hand I held her paw with. It helps to have her with me now and be able to hold her paw every time life feels impossible. I love and appreciate you lots including all your cute furry friends.🖤✨ Also, thank you so much for the dragon card. It warms my heart to receive dragon mail from you every time. Your mail is like the light at the end of the tunnel - I know it's there and will arrive and I have no words for how much positive impact you have on me and my life.🖤🖤🖤
u/melhen16 thank you so much for the colourful card you sent! I love the quotes you add on your cards and you are a wonderful part of this community. Thank you for being here🖤🖤🖤
2x u/Caraal thank you a lot for both cards - the dog card reminds me of Shirley when she was younger, it's so adorable. I appreciate your words a lot, all the mail I receive helps so much as I don't feel alone and you all make me feel seen, validated in my feelings and loved. Thanks for that!! Also, thank you so much for adding extras, that's so kind of you.🖤🖤🖤
u/draftyelectrolyte thank you so much for the wonderful card and your kind words. We truly did our best to give her a wonderful life with us. She's been given back from her first owners when she was little, then she came to us and I think we did a good job spoiling her rotten. It makes me happy to hear about your fur friends and to hear that Shirley is not the only Jack Russel trying to be a Dalmatian, haha. I've been dreaming of her a lot lately and it's super realistic. It feels great to have her around in my dreams but it hurts on a different level when I wake up and realise that she's gone. I do believe that they stay around and while not exactly being religious, I love to imagine that everyone that passes is like a guardian angel, taking care of me from afar. There's been moments I am 100% sure that some of them were around and I cherish those moments even if it might be utter bullshit. Buuuuut even if it is utter bullshit, it helped me in those moments and I really love the thought of loved ones being there to support me in hard times.🖤✨
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2024.05.10 00:42 Deacys_bass Letter to a friend

(A small poem I wrote when I was 12 years old)
Dearest friend,
These words do not come easily to me — I can’t write the way I used to.
But something needs to be said here, before it eats me alive.
You whispered to me once in the quiet of the night that I was all you had left, and I know this is selfish of me but sometimes I wish that were still true.
I wish that you would still come to me and cry about being tired, or even just remind me that the lilacs are blooming again.
The days are getting warmer; it’s almost spring. Words bubble up in my chest and threaten to spill out of my lips whenever this time of year rolls around again.
The warmth reminds me of those long summer days spent in the fields with you, my head upon your chest.
I’m not allowed in the fields anymore, but every once and a while we’ll drive past them and those old feelings rise back up and make a nest in my heart.
That summer was a pain, but you loved me, and that in itself was a reassurance that all was well.
So when the house is empty and I’m all alone, I’ll always think of that summer; of long evenings spent with the horses, of the conversations you and I would have in the dead of the night, of my head upon her chest, of green pastures and buttercups — As bad as it was, it’ll never be that good again.
Dear friend, you smiled once, and I knew that everything would be okay — And I loved you.
But I was afraid. How could I not be? You were my best friend, and I was in love with you.
Thats it. I was in love with you, my dear friend. I’ve never said it before, but I’ll say it now.
I loved you the way that the sun loves the plants and the soldiers love the steady earth they stalk upon.
I’m sure that I bore you; I don’t care. Be bored. I love you. I’ll always love you — that is all I need.
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t realize until it was too late.
I’m sorry that I’ll never love a boy the way I love you.
And now I fear those long summer days are so far away, and that each day I only grow further from those days, because when summer rolls around this time it’ll be 2 years since, and suddenly I am aware that even the summer of 2023 is beginning to feel further and further away, and that I feel do not feel young, and I never have felt young.
You kissed me once, albeit only on the cheek. You weren’t interested in girls, but you loved me as you had loved no other.
I don’t believe you wanted me like a lover, dear friend— But I know you were in love with me. It is not a simple matter to explain, nor is it an easy one. You were in love with me, but not the way I was in love with you.
I am youth.
I’m not thirteen yet, dear friend, but almost.
Won’t you kiss me again?
I’m still pure, dear friend. I’m the cleanest martyr you’ll ever see.
I’m twelve years old, dear friend, but love ages people.
Won’t you let me be your favorite girl again?
Every piece I’ve ever written has had little bits of you hiding between the lines.
submitted by Deacys_bass to OCPoetryFree [link] [comments]


2024.05.09 16:15 Prudent-Quit7462 Annapurna Base Camp Trek: Advice from the trekking guide in Nepal

Annapurna Base Camp Trek: Advice from the trekking guide in Nepal
Annapurna Base Camp trek is a classic trek that brought Nepal into the world map of trekking tourism traversing to the maximum elevation of 4130m of Annapurna Base Camp with the panaromic views of Annapurna range, Gangapurna and the iconic Fishtail 'Machhapuchre' mountain of the region. I hope this post would answer the questions about this trek and helps on your planning for this beautiful adventure.
Required no of days and general itinerary
ABC Trek can be generally completed in 7 days starting from Pokhara and back to Pokhara. While many agencies start from the village of Jhinu, I personally recommend starting from Ghandruk and finishing at Jhinu. The general itinerary that accounts for safe acclimitization and elevation gain is below: Day 1 - Pokhara to Ghandruk (On Jeep) and sightsee around old Ghandruk village, cultural museum and watch the beautiful sunset from Ghandruk.
Day 2 - Ghandruk to Chhomrong (Recommended hotel is Kalpana Guest House or Mountain View Lodge)
Day 3 - Chhomrong to Dovan via Sinuwa and Bamboo. You can have your lunch at Bamboo. The first part of trail from Chhomrong to Sinuwa seems like a never ending section of staircase. The trail calms down after Upper Sinuwa and slowly, makes it through the beautiful forest trails laiden with Himalayan Birch, Himalayan Bamboo, Nepalese Alder, Needlewood trees, etc listening to the beautiful sounds of Modi Khola and Cuckoo birds singing.
Day 4 - Dovan to Deurali The iconic waterfall across the Deurali Temple prior to the lunch spot of Himalaya is recommended. Be sure to go through Himalaya Cafe and Lodge for an iconic experience of Pizza and freshly brewed coffee to reach Deurali and enjoy the wonderful views of the landscape and glimpses of Fishtail mountain.
Day 5 - Deurali to Machapuchre Base Camp OR Annapurna Base Camp Since the elevation of Deurali is at 3300m, ideally it would make sense to go to Machapuchre Base Camp at an elevation of 3700m and stay for the night, heading onto ABC early morning at around 4 am to watch the beautiful sunrise and be back. However, if you are confident regarding your physical adaptibility and management of Altitude Sickness, you may choose to go to Annapurna Base Camp and soak in one of the most beautiful sunset and sunrise from the fabled Annapurna Base Camp
Day 6 - Annapurna Base Camp to Lower Sinuwa As you finish watching the sunrise, its time for the journey towards Sinuwa. Today is going to the longest day of the trek where you can roughly trek for about 22kms, where the 90 percent of the journey would be going downhill. This day can be demanding if you have knee issues. If Sinuwa seems to be too far, you can stay at Bamboo or Upper Sinuwa.
Day 7- Sinuwa to Jhinu and Hot Water Springs to Jhinu and Jeep back to Pokhara This is the final day of the trek and hence, you can expect to walk somewhere between 4-5 hours. The section to Chhomrong is definitely an uphill climb. However, the walk from Chomrong to Jhinu mostly comprises of steep downhill. After you reach Jhinu, you can have your lunch, spend some time in the hot springs of Jhinu and trek for additional 30mins while you cross the iconic Jhinu suspension bridge and reach the Jeep point. The jeep would take about 2.5 hours to take you back to Pokhara, marking the end of the trek.
Permits and Fees The general ACAP Permit can be obtained from Nepal Tourism Board Office at Kathmandu or Pokhara by paying NRs. 3000 along with the copy of your passport and p.p. size photographs. The permits would be checked in at Birethanti near Nayapool and further checked in at Chhomrong. Please ensure you do not loose the permit as you have to checkout at the respective checkpost while coming back down.
Transportation and How to get there Generally, a Private Jeep transfer would take NRs. 7000 (about 48 Euros or 52 USD), which can be shared with atleast 6 passengers for one way trip to Ghandruk taking around 2.5 hours. Alternatively, you can go to Baglung Bus Park and hop on a Public Bus or Jeep that takes you to Ghandruk at the price of NRs. 350 or NRs. 750 respectively. Please bear in mind that the bus and jeep would wait for it to fill up before departing and would take longer time than private hire.
You can get a return jeep from Jhinu for the same price of NRs. 7000. Please bear in mind that if you are planning to hop on the shared jeeps, most of them departs before afternoon having the lower chances to get them and hence, private hire is recommended for the suggested itinerary.
Cost Details and How much can you expect to pay The general recommended cost that you can expect is about 25 to 30 USD per day for your food and accomodation. Extra cost might incurr from having Alcoholic Beverages (NRs. 800 on average), Filtered Water (NRs. 70 to NRs. 150 per litre), Hot Shower (NRs. 200 - 300 per person), etc. Please note that bottled water is not available after Ghandruk and hence, highly recommended to take your Nalgene bottles or Hydration System to fill up your water bottles. I suggest not to rely on the filtered water or boiled water and use the Water Purification Tablets (Aquatabs for NRs. 300 for 50 tablets), that you can get on Thamel. For the 7 days, you can expect to incurr around 300 USD to complete this majestic trek by yourself independently.
Alternatively, you can expect to complete the trek in the full board package at around 330 USD if you are in the group of 3 or more. OR if you just want to hire the trekking guide, it would cost you around 25 USD to 30 USD per day and porter service would cost you around 15 to 20 USD per day.
Connectivity and Networks I recommend to get the Nepal Telecom (NTC) simcards for greater range of connectivity. You can also avail the wifi services available at every teahouse along the trek for about NRs. 250 per device. However, the reliability of the internet can be hit or miss in the higher elevations.
Other General Tips and Infos Please ensure you download an app called 'Indriver' after you get Nepalese sim card. This is like an Uber service for cities like Kathmandu and Pokhara where you can call a cab or motorbike to travel around. It will save you the hassle of haggling prices in the streets with the cab drivers ensuring fair prices. Alternatively, you can also avail the Prepaid tourist taxi services from the Airport which will cost around NRs. 700 - NRs. 1000 to reach from Pokhara Int'l Airport to main Lakeside area.
Additionally to reach Pokhara, you can either avail the
  1. Buddha Airways by Flight (Recommended) where you can purchase the tickets online by using your own bank cards costing around 102 USD for the 20-25 mins flight time.
  2. Swift Holidays Tourist Bus Service, where you can chat with the Customer Representative over Whatsapp and pay your bus fees once you board the bus. It will take around 8 hours making 3 stops enroute and can be an amazing alternative to see the hillside and countless small towns, costing NRs. 1600 one way. The bus will take you to the Tourist Bus Park and recommended to call the Indriver cab to the lakeside or walk for about 30-35 mins to reach the main street.
Trekking Gears and Where to Buy Your general packing list can include 3 Tshirts, 1 set of Thermal Base Layers, 2 Trekking Trousers, 1 Puffer Jacket, 1 Goretex Shell 1 Beanie, 1 Gloves, 3-4 pairs of Innerwears and Socks, 1 Nalgene Bottle of 1 - 1.7 ltr capacity, 1 pair of Trekking Poles and Toiletteries as required. Sleeping Bags, generally recommended for colder months to be used along with blankets provided by teahouses.
Any trekking gears shop in Thamel or Pokhara, you can buy the fake or copy stuff. If you are looking for genuine Nepalese brands you can check out names of Raeko, Kaemp8848 or Everest Outfit, Sherpa Adventure Gear, etc in Thamel, Kathmandu, where you can buy the home brands and are also ensured with genuine products of western brands such as LaSportiva, Blackdiamond, Nalgene, Ice Breaker, Sea to Summit, etc. Additionally, you can use the Raeko store to rent the sleeping bags for about NRs. 150 - NRs. 200 per day.
Conclusion
I hope all the information above helps you for your planning to visit the beautiful Annapurna Base Camp. If you have further questions or have additional enquiries, please feel free to reach out to me. Email: [tmg.kiran91@gmail.com](mailto:tmg.kiran91@gmail.com) or Whatsapp: +9779862212123 or Through my business page: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100080129298799 Kind Regards, Kiran
5th May 2024, Annpurna Base Camp
submitted by Prudent-Quit7462 to u/Prudent-Quit7462 [link] [comments]


2024.05.09 02:20 bubblegummerr what was the mcq poem for ap lit abt the new year??

it started with the depiction of the celebration of the new year with young and old people, a baby crying.. and then compared the joyness of the new year as quick to fade as a "spring bud" ??? and then the end of the poem is about the importance of thought? comparing it to wings and flight, etc.....
submitted by bubblegummerr to APStudents [link] [comments]


2024.05.08 18:53 a-yeti-story Secrets in “Don’t carry it all”

tl;dr: The analysis interprets "Don't Carry It All" by The Decemberists as a song about a small community experiencing cycles of harvest, birth, and death. The lyrics suggest hidden secrets and multiple layers of meaning. The writer speculates that the deceased boy being mourned might be a bastard son, conceived out of wedlock during the previous spring's turning of the season. The song reflects themes of communal togetherness during times of work and grief, with metaphors tied to nature and the cycle of seasons. Ultimately, it's portrayed as a complex and richly symbolic piece that invites repeated listening and interpretation. The writer expresses a deep appreciation for the song's depth and invites discussion on similar works by The Decemberists. (Summary written by ChatGPT ;)

Intro

There are secrets hidden in this one, I think. For one, what exactly is it that “nobody knows”? I have one possible answer, and I thought I’d share. I think the boy whose death the townsfolk gather to mourn is a bastard son (a child born of unmarried parents).
Let me explain why I think this. I’ve copied the lyrics below and labeled them for easy reference. For instance, (1) refers to the whole intro section, and (1a) refers to the first line, 'here we come to a turning of the season’.

Lyrics

Intro
(1) a. Here we come to a turning of the season
b. Witness to the arc towards the sun
c. The neighbor's blessed burden within reason
d. Becomes a burden borne of all in one
Chorus
(2) a. And nobody, nobody knows
b. Let the yoke fall from our shoulders
c. Don't carry it all, don't carry it all
d. We are all our hands in holders
e. Beneath this bold and brilliant sun
f. This I swear to all
Verse 1
(3) a. A monument to build beneath the arbors
b. Upon a plinth that towers towards the trees
c. Let every vessel pitching hard to starboard
d. Lay it's head on summer's freckled knees
Repeat (2), the chorus.
Verse 2
(4) a. There a wreath of trillium and ivy
b. Laid upon the body of the boy
c. Lazy will the loam come from it's hiding
d. Return his quiet certitude to the soil
Outro
(5) a. So raise a glass to turnings of the season
b. And watch it as it arcs towards the sun
c. And you must bear your neighbor's burden within reason
d. And your labors will be borne when all is done
Repeat the chorus, (2), again.

Analysis

Setting the scene

In (1) the scene is set. The ‘turning of the season’ in (1a) is the turn from spring to summer, and with summer comes the harvest, a time of toil. The ‘arc towards the sun’ in (1b), then, is the corn or wheat in the fields, bending in the wind. (Side note: “witness to the arc towards the sun” is one of my favorite lines in the song. Whenever I hear it, I feel like I’m in a field on a clear day, watching the golden wheat sway—a scene familiar from my adolescence in the midwest). It is not lonely individuals in these fields, however. From (1c) and (1d) we know that to reap the bounty of the earth, which is the ‘neighbor’s blessed burden’, is to come together as a community. So harvest is a time of togetherness.
In this context, the first line of the chorus, (2a), might be rephrased as ‘there is nobody that nobody knows’. In other words everyone knows everyone. This is the hallmark of a small town or village. In (2b), letting the ‘yoke fall from our shoulders’ means that we relieve ourselves the burden of the hard work, and we do this, as related in (2d)-(2e), by relying on our community. Here, the ‘holders’ of (2d) are containers for grain or corn. More simply put, those of the village are all working together to harvest the crop. This is all done in the light of the ‘bold and brilliant sun’ in (2e). This is, of course, literally a description of working under the summer sun. But it is also metaphorical: to work under the sun is to have no secrets. As is common in such small towns, in which everyone knows everyone, everyone knows everything about everyone. (These images of fields and community bring Midsommar to mind for me. That is the community I picture for this song, though the differences are stark)
After the work is done, it will be soon a time of rest, as related in (3c)-(3d). But not yet. In (3a), there is a ‘monument’ to be built. Like the harvest, this too is not the work of one individual, but requires the community. For some, the monument means the end of their work, so as related in (3c)-(3d), they may finally lay their heads on ‘freckled knees’. For others though, a ‘vessel pitching hard to starboard’ (i.e., a bountiful harvest) means it is time for trade. Ships (‘vessels’) so loaded with trade goods that they are ‘pitching hard to starboard’ have come to the community’s shores (their ‘summer’s freckled knees), and the product must be bartered for.
Here the chorus in (2) repeats. It has mostly the same interpretation as before, with calm, happy air, though having our ‘hands in holders’ in (2d) now means that we are standing hand in hand, in celebration. But when we get to (4), the second verse, the mood turns somber. It seems that a boy has died. Fittingly, he will be returned to the soil, from which the crops were grown. In this context, (2d) can be reinterpreted: having our ‘hands in holders’ in (2d) now means that we are standing in solidarity against the pain. (3a) and (3b) may similarly be reinterpreted. The ‘monument’ in (3a) built on a ‘plinth’ in (3b) may be a gravestone, built for the boy. So what was a happy time, is now a solemn one. (Side note: I love (4c), ‘lazy will the loam come from its hiding’. The imagery of the rest of the song is so light and dry, so this line about the dark and damp hits hard)

The core of my argument

The outro, (5), which resembles (1), is the key to my argument. We have come again to a turning of the seasons, in (5a) and so from summer it has turned to fall. In the context of the funeral in (4), we are primed to read (5c) and (5d) as depicting each neighbor sharing in their ‘neighbor’s burden’:, i.e., helping each other grieve and overcome the pain of the child’s death. But there is a more literal reading here. To ‘bear’, in (5c), is to bear a child: to birth. Bearing a ‘neighbor’s burden’, then, is carrying their child (‘carrying’ in the sense of pregnancy). Where the ‘labors’ in (5d) at first glance seemed to refer to the hard work of the harvest, we now see that these labors are the labors of childbirth, after which the child will be ‘borne’. (Side note: so many of these lines have more than one meaning, which is why listening to it is such a joy: I find something new every time)
This reading of ‘bear your neighbor’s burden’ triggers a reinterpretation of the chorus, which repeats again now, at the end of the song. And now we are poised to answer the question we began with: What it is that ‘nobody knows’ in (2a) is that the child to be born the next year (at the turning of the seasons from spring to summer) is a bastard son. The mother and father must be worried: will the child have the blue eyes that will give our infidelity away? But for now, nobody knows.
We are also triggered to reinterpret the death of the boy in (4). Is this just any child? It might be, but also notice that the time from the start of autumn (when you must ‘bear your neighbor’s burden’) to the end of spring (‘the turning of the season’ from spring to summer) is 9 months: the exact time required to bear a child. With this context, the “neighbor’s blessed burden” becoming “a burden borne of all in one” is the community coming together to celebrate the birth of the child. (As they say, it takes a village)
Upon re-listening, when we hear (4), we might consider that it is this child’s death (or a child like this one, conceived outside a marriage in the previous spring). This child is stillborn, or did not survive long after birth. For the community, this is bitter and heartbreaking. But for the mother of the bastard son, the feelings are more complex. Though she lost her child, the guilt of adultery and the worry of discovery has been lifted. Now to be ‘beneath the bold and brilliant sun’ in (2e) is ironic: there were secrets here, though they died with the boy.

Overall thoughts

This is a song about a community coming together for harvest, birth, and death, over and over. And I think, like the cycle of the seasons, this is a song that is made to be listened to again and again.
Of the Decemberists’ songs I’ve listened to, this is my favorite. I suspect that this song is a momentary stroke of genius, and that the other music is not the same. But my knowledge of their music is limited. Are any of their other songs like this? If so, what are they about?
And surely there are things that I’ve missed: songs, like poems, can be open to multiple interpretations. I’m more than happy to hear your thoughts.
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2024.05.08 17:26 readingitnowagain US Representative Jamaal Bowman, targeted heavily by AIPAC Israel Lobby for his opposition to the Gaza War, has his youtube likes published in Daily Beast

https://www.thedailybeast.com/squad-rep-jamaal-bowmans-youtube-page-is-a-bonkers-conspiracy-filled-trip
Squad Rep’s YouTube Page Is a Conspiracy Theorist’s Dream RUBE TUBE
Jamaal Bowman has insisted his days of engaging with fringe content are behind him. His active YouTube account shows otherwise.
William Bredderman Senior Researcher Published May 08, 2024 4:31AM EDT
Old (internet) habits die hard.
When The Daily Beast revealed in January that Rep. Jamaal Bowman had promoted 9/11 conspiracy theories on his blog while working as a public school principal, the New York Democrat maintained it was just a bygone phase, and that his days of marinating in the nether-swamps of online paranoia were long over. But his personal YouTube account, where he continued to follow new channels and create playlists as recently as last month, indicates his taste for fringe content has endured into his tenure on Capitol Hill.
Bowman’s page, which uses his longtime screen name “Inner Peace” and features his image and videos from the middle school he once led, subscribes to dozens of bewildering and bizarre accounts—including known Russian and Chinese disinfo peddlers, flat earthers, musings about UFOs and “signs you’re being prepared to cross to the new earth,” a U.S.-born Muslim influencer who killed a German citizen and provoked attacks on American businesses in Egypt, and many arcane online realms in between.
“This CIA Document Literally Explains Time Travel (practical steps included)," crows the title of one post on an account the congressman follows called Video Advice, which also frequently shares conspiracy content about the Illuminati and the Catholic Church. Another recording on the same page blares: “Kanye Exposes the Truth: ‘The Secret Codes They Don't Want You to Know.’”
“‘We use the RIGHT FREQUENCIES’ (hidden numerology used by the elite),” is the name of a video on another account called Be Inspired, which Bowman also follows.
“‘100% Alien Technology’ - Something Big Being Hidden From Us,” alleges a video on a page called Anonymous Official, another Bowman subscription, which frequently also pushes content by serial sex offender and Vladimir Putin-booster Scott Ritter, such as “What’s Coming is WORSE Than a WW3, Iran is Ready.”
These follows might seem unusual for a member of Congress—but less so for a man who published poetry The Daily Beast uncovered that promoted debunked conspiracies about the Sept. 11 attacks on the World Trade Center and Pentagon. Bowman’s verse, first published on his blog Relentless-Strongback.blogspot.com in 2011 when he was 35, also urged readers to watch the pseudo-documentaries ‘Loose Change’ and ‘Zeitgeist,’ both of which earned the endorsement of arch-paranoia-pusher Alex Jones. Bowman’s poem also included an explicit shout-out to William Cooper, an Arizona broadcaster whose anti-government rants made him a pivotal figure in the American militia movement.
Although the congressman has since disowned his old heroes as “cranks,” his YouTube subscriptions reflect a similar blending of right and left. Anonymous Official, for instance, uses the name and symbols of the anarchist hacker collective—but shares clips of conservative populist figures such as Tucker Carlson and Joe Rogan. Bowman also follows Stephen Gardner, a pro-Trump YouTube influencer who also promotes the idea that the federal government is hiding evidence of aliens, while critiquing U.S. foreign policy in Ukraine and the Middle East.
In fact, Ritter, Rogan, and Carlson recur across multiple channels Bowman subscribes to, as does former Greek Finance Minister Yanis Varoufakis, as well as claims about alleged government plots to conceal extraterrestrials, an imminent third world war emerging from American support of Ukraine and Israel, and content about inventor Nikola Tesla and his supposed knowledge of mysterious vibrations that pervade the universe and various parallel dimensions. Bowman also follows mainstream and apolitical accounts, such as National Geographic and ESPN, and musical artists like Busta Rhymes and Eminem.
Bowman’s campaign did not deny the Inner Peace account belonged to him, but supplied a statement from the lawmaker disclaiming even the faintest familiarity with the extreme and outlandish content he subscribed to. Bowman also downplayed the importance of his social media exposures in the face of what he characterized as domestic and international crises.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t know these accounts, and I haven’t watched any of these videos. There is a war going on that has killed tens of thousands of innocents and people here can’t afford rent and groceries, I think people care more about that than some convoluted story about videos that I haven’t even watched.”
Further, Bowman has publicly identified himself in the past as a frequent YouTube user. At a panel discussion held at an Islamic center in the city of Yonkers in January, the Democrat described himself as “starstruck” to introduce the incendiary academic Norman Finkelstein, whom he said he knew from online videos.
“I watch them all the time on YouTube,” said Bowman, who subsequently had to denounce Finkelstein’s praise of Hamas’ bloody raid into Israeli territory on Oct. 7.
Sure enough, several of the pages Inner Peace follows—including DiEM25, Real News Network, Free Will, PoliticsJOE, TRT World—feature interviews with Finkelstein.
Moreover, a number of the accounts Bowman has subscribed to are of recent vintage: more recent, even, than his own ascent to power in 2020. For instance, one called Afripost—where recent video titles announce “Vatican Angry as PUTIN Declares Russia will Only Worship THE BLACK JESUS” and “African Historian Reveals hidden Secret: God did NOT CREATE WHITE: The Bible is all about BLACKS” (capitalization original)—was created in April of last year, just a few months after Bowman started his second term.
Afripost also frequently shares speeches by controversial Nation of Islam minister Louis Farrakhan, known for his antisemitic rhetoric. The most recent such video asserts, falsely, “BLACKS ARE THE TRUE J£WS [sic].”
Bowman also subscribes to an account called Thinkers Forum, created in late 2021, toward the end of his first year representing parts of the Bronx and Westchester County in the House. Thinkers Forum is a project of The China Academy, which bills itself as “one of China’s most influential current affairs and intellectual content outlet [sic],” and boasts ties to an array of Chinese state-backed institutions. Recent videos posted to the Thinkers Forum channel include “Why the West ‘takes pleasure’ in seeing the genocide in Palestine?” “Why NATO is collapsing like the Soviet Union, by the same mistake,” and “How the US Keeps Fighting China, Knowing It Won’t Win?”
Thinkers Forum also recently posted a translation of a Chinese state university professor’s evidence-free speculation that the terrorist attack at a Moscow concert hall was the work of Ukraine and Western intelligence services—even though a faction of the Islamic State took responsibility for the assault.
A few months earlier, in July 2021—six months into Bowman’s stint on the Hill—another channel was born called Middle Nation, which the congressman at some indeterminate point followed. Middle Nation belongs to Shahid Bolsen, a Colorado-born Muslim convert who used his prior social media accounts to urge Islamist militants to attack so-called “corporate crusaders” that had set up shop in Egypt. Bolsen, previously imprisoned on a manslaughter conviction in the United Arab Emirates for killing a German engineer, uses his new channel to rail against “The Loud, Hollow American Empire,” “The Prison of American Hegemony,” Western “materialism,” the U.S.’s supposedly “fake ceasefire” proposals to end the conflict in the Gaza Strip.
One of the loopiest pages Bowman follows also came into being that same year: Wired Mind, which exclusively promotes the ideas of late New Age icon Dolores Cannon, known for her advocacy of conspiracies about aliens, reincarnation, and the lost island of Atlantis. Wired Mind urges its viewers to prepare for an impending “shift” to a higher reality, and offers advice on such dilemmas as "Are You an Alien Among Us? Signs You Might Not Be from This World” and “Think You're Going Crazy? Surprise! You're Actually Awakening Your Spirit!"
Finally, Bowman also follows BreakThrough News, which established its YouTube presence in early 2020, while the Democrat was on the campaign warpath against then-incumbent Rep. Eliot Engel. As The Daily Beast reported last spring, BreakThrough News draws its staff from Russian state-owned media and cash from Neville “Roy” Singham, a U.S. tech mogul ensconced in Shanghai—and pushes the favorite propaganda narratives of Moscow and Beijing.
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2024.05.08 08:13 starrett74 [OT][HR] The Spiral

Based on a poem (that I wrote several years prior) titled, "The Dead Birds in My Garden" which goes as follows:
>It’s hard to see the death, it's hard to look at. You’d think the garden would make it easier. You’d think the green twine that is interposed with the colored irises and black pupils would shed beauty on the thing. These eyes that watch as the spiral swirls, only they know the truth. I wonder what they thought when they saw the three black birds that lay lifeless in my bed of hydrangeas. I wonder if they wonder. If they could speak, would they tell me the cause of this oh-so-terrible tragedy that took place in my garden? Would they tell me or would they just laugh, reveling in their unrequited knowledge?
The gardener woke to the sound of fewer and fewer birds chirping in the morning wind. Every morning he was delighted with the welcoming song of the starlings that perched outside his window, but with each morning this spring, he noticed the diminished call. Deciding it was not worth it to dwell on he wiped the sleep from his eyes and started downstairs to brew his dark roast. He fried himself a few eggs and set off to work away under the freshly blue sky.
Fashioning his faded denim overalls and brown leather boots, he trudged down the garden path and was immediately made aware of a wretched smell. The putrid sharp odor clung in the air like a dark aura. The smell was familiar to the man, as he was no stranger to it. He made his way to his bed of hydrangeas. They bloomed beautifully this spring and dripped a cotton candy mixture of deep purples and bright blues, but something was off about the way they swayed in the wind. They seemed to rip through the air creating a roaring buzz.
*Wait no, that noise.* He followed his ears somewhat dazed and pulled back the foliage. He immediately revealed a sight that he at first did not understand. He whipped back, startled. *Surely his eyes deceived him, for it could not have been.* Yet when he went back, slowly moving his hand into the bushel of flowers, peeling them to the side, his horrors had been confirmed. What lay before him were three dead birds swarmed with yellow jackets. The brown and yellow mass of them writhing away covering almost every square inch of the poor creatures. The sound was horrifying; just a steady hum, all registering a single unbroken note.
The sound drew him in like a trance. He kneeled transfixed at the sight, unaware of time, simply staring. It did not take long, however, for the bees to take notice of him. They began to climb from green leaf to green stem until they met flesh. As he felt them crawl up his skin, his trance was broken, and he broke into a sudden panic. The man frantically swiped and swatted and the yellow-brown haze formed around him. The air felt thick, and he could feel tens of needle-like pin-pricks piercing his skin. The horrible buzz was drowned out by his panic until he noticed something. The hum coming from the swarm started to oscillate; with more, and more tonation, until a frequency was found. The voice, *no, it couldn't be*; Yes, the distorted voice radiated out from the swarm and surrounded him in an all-encompassing domain of fear and anguish. The humming melody raged out into laughter, a horrific, hysterical laughter.
And all at once, the buzzing stopped. The only sound that the Gardener could hear was the flapping of his clothes as he flailed. Broken, the man fell to his knees in an attempt to pray to whatever was above; but what was above him, was not God. Instead, there were thousands upon thousands of bees steadily floating in the air, as if time had stopped.
Eyes wide, mouth agape, with his lips, curled back revealing his teeth, he yelled, "DEAR GOD, WHAT IS THIS?!"
And what he got in return was a sharp darting of the yellow-brown mass, first going left, then up, then right, bouncing around every which way. The swarm began to laugh again; slowly tightening, becoming so dense, that it was no longer a swarm, but a black mass. That black mass floated down to the ground in the shape of a man, white as snow and in robes as black as midnight.
His face was inhuman; distorted, as if he had been dead for ages, but was not unable to rot, and he spoke thus, "The spiral must spin." in a sing-songy, high-pitched voice.
That was all he said before exploding into a cloud of bees, and this time, the bees did not sting when they landed on the man, they consumed.
submitted by starrett74 to shortstories [link] [comments]


2024.05.08 07:17 starrett74 The Spiral: A Short Story

Note: I was going to put this in the shortscarystories sub but they have a strict 500-word count, and this goes over that. Still wanting to share this and maybe get some feedback I decided this was probably the second best place, as I am a pretty big King fan. Also, I took a bit of inspiration from "The Man in the Black Suit" from everything eventual so I hope you enjoy.

Based on a poem (that I wrote several years prior) titled, "The Dead Birds in My Garden" which goes as follows:

It’s hard to see the death, it's hard to look at. You’d think the garden would make it easier. You’d think the green twine that is interposed with the colored irises and black pupils would shed beauty on the thing. These eyes that watch as the spiral swirls, only they know the truth. I wonder what they thought when they saw the three black birds that lay lifeless in my bed of hydrangeas. I wonder if they wonder. If they could speak, would they tell me the cause of this oh-so-terrible tragedy that took place in my garden? Would they tell me or would they just laugh, reveling in their unrequited knowledge?

The gardener woke to the sound of fewer and fewer birds chirping in the morning wind. Every morning he was delighted with the welcoming song of the starlings that perched outside his window, but with each morning this spring, he noticed the diminished call. Deciding it was not worth it to dwell on he wiped the sleep from his eyes and started downstairs to brew his dark roast. He fried himself a few eggs and set off to work away under the freshly blue sky.
Fashioning his faded denim overalls and brown leather boots, he trudged down the garden path and was immediately made aware of a wretched smell. The putrid sharp odor clung in the air like a dark aura. The smell was familiar to the man, as he was no stranger to it. He made his way to his bed of hydrangeas. They bloomed beautifully this spring and dripped a cotton candy mixture of deep purples and bright blues, but something was off about the way they swayed in the wind. They seemed to rip through the air creating a roaring buzz.
*Wait no, that noise.* He followed his ears somewhat dazed and pulled back the foliage. He immediately revealed a sight that he at first did not understand. He whipped back, startled. *Surely his eyes deceived him, for it could not have been.* Yet when he went back, slowly moving his hand into the bushel of flowers, peeling them to the side, his horrors had been confirmed. What lay before him were three dead birds swarmed with yellow jackets. The brown and yellow mass of them writhing away covering almost every square inch of the poor creatures. The sound was horrifying; just a steady hum, all registering a single unbroken note.
The sound drew him in like a trance. He kneeled transfixed at the sight, unaware of time, simply staring. It did not take long, however, for the bees to take notice of him. They began to climb from green leaf to green stem until they met flesh. As he felt them crawl up his skin, his trance was broken, and he broke into a sudden panic. The man frantically swiped and swatted and the yellow-brown haze formed around him. The air felt thick, and he could feel tens of needle-like pin-pricks piercing his skin. The horrible buzz was drowned out by his panic until he noticed something. The hum coming from the swarm started to oscillate; with more, and more tonation, until a frequency was found. The voice, *no, it couldn't be*; Yes, the distorted voice radiated out from the swarm and surrounded him in an all-encompassing domain of fear and anguish. The humming melody raged out into laughter, a horrific, hysterical laughter.
And all at once, the buzzing stopped. The only sound that the Gardener could hear was the flapping of his clothes as he flailed. Broken, the man fell to his knees in an attempt to pray to whatever was above; but what was above him, was not God. Instead, there were thousands upon thousands of bees steadily floating in the air, as if time had stopped.
Eyes wide, mouth agape, with his lips, curled back revealing his teeth, he yelled, "DEAR GOD, WHAT IS THIS?!"
And what he got in return was a sharp darting of the yellow-brown mass, first going left, then up, then right, bouncing around every which way. The swarm began to laugh again; slowly tightening, becoming so dense, that it was no longer a swarm, but a black mass. That black mass floated down to the ground in the shape of a man, white as snow and in robes as black as midnight.
His face was inhuman; distorted, as if he had been dead for ages, but was not unable to rot, and he spoke thus, "The spiral must spin." in a sing-songy, high-pitched voice.
That was all he said before exploding into a cloud of bees, and this time, the bees did not sting when they landed on the man, they consumed.
submitted by starrett74 to stephenking [link] [comments]


2024.05.07 08:29 RodeoBoss66 From Cowboys & Indians Magazine — Cowboy Corner: Taylor Sheridan

From Cowboys & Indians Magazine — Cowboy Corner: Taylor Sheridan

Cowboy poet Red Steagall sits down with Western auteur and 6666 Ranch owner Taylor Sheridan for a quick chat.

BY C&I Editors
May 4, 2024
As May rolls around and spring kicks into full gear, we’re looking back at the cowboy poet’s conversation with Yellowstone creator Taylor Sheridan. Plus, Red Steagall shares one of his beloved poems with us.
Red Steagall: Taylor Sheridan, I’m so glad you invited us to your house.
Taylor Sheridan: I’m glad you’re here.
Red: I have fond memories of the “Four Sixes.” It’s quite iconic.
Taylor: It’s a special place. It was where [Samuel Burk] Burnett built it. It was completed in 1917. His friend Quanah Parker ... as he built this fireplace behind us, you can see that there are antlers embedded into it. Those antlers are from a deer that Quanah killed, cut in half, and had embedded in there. And then his war lance lived there for many, many years. Now I believe the original is at the Ranching Heritage Center. ... My family lived around Waco and Stanford, which is about 30 miles from here. So, I grew up in the shadow of this ranch. And to be the person responsible for shepherding it into its next generation [is] a tremendous honor and responsibility, too.
Red: I grew up about 13 miles from the Borger Ranch at Dixon Creek, and my goal in life was to ride with the 6666 cowboys. That’s all I wanted to do my whole life. Then I got to do it on this ranch. Started in 1976, coming out for the spring works, and didn’t miss a year for 29 years. And I owe a lot to this ranch. It gave me a chance to understand what cowboys really do, what they’re all about, what their sense of values is, their customs, and their manners. Gosh, what great manners cowboys have.
Taylor: It’s interesting because you, like me, are a storyteller and a cowboy, and those two worlds, they collide a lot out here. ... The place is dadgum near a museum. And yet, all this art on these walls is from cowboys that have stayed out here — you being one of them — who camped out here and painted our cowboys from Boots O’Neal to Joe Leathers to Mike Gibson. ... It’s a piece of history.
Red: How did you get into the position of being a master storyteller?
Taylor: I was a terrible student, and I was a dreamer. Our ranch, outside of Cranfills Gap ... at the time I struggled a bit with it because we would go back and forth between being in school in Fort Worth. And yet we’d spend all our time out on this ranch near nobody. So, I didn’t have the experience that a lot of kids had where they’re going to go to this dance or this thing and all these play friends. I was just the guy that was stuck in school in town and then disappeared, or didn’t go to school for a week. So, I spent a whole lot of time by myself entertaining myself, just imagining stories in my head. I watched old westerns at a time when you’re a boy, or about to come into adolescence, and your mind’s real fertile. I hated the ranch until really that point. Then I watched the romance of it, and I got curious about the life that I was actually living. And I embraced it.
Find the full episode of Red Steagall Is Somewhere West of Wall Street, featuring the conversation with Taylor Sheridan (Episode 41; Original Air Date: Oct 09, 2023) at watchrfdtv.com.
———
The Last Buffalo
The yearly migration ofmillions of beasts,Made it look like the land was alive.The wolves took the weak ones,the winter took some,And the Indian took enough to survive.
The Indian believed the buffalowas his brother,Like the coyote, the eagle, the wind.He revered him in story, in song,and in dance,Was his larder, his shelter, his friend.
His brown hide was used forthe teepee and robes,A shoulder blade made a good hoe.A paunch held the food forthe winter supply,And a sinew a string for a bow.
Then the Sharp’s Big 50 roaredover the land,Till only a few head remained.The ones that were lefteither died of old ageOr were captured when theyfenced off the plain.
———
TV And Radio Schedule
Episodes of Red’s travel show, Red Steagall Is Somewhere West of Wall Street, air Mondays at 8:30 p.m. Central on RFD-TV. Find out more about the TV program at watchrfdtv.com and keep up with Red’s radio show, Cowboy Corner, at redsteagall.com/cowboy-corner. And be sure to visit Red’s new YouTube channel.
From our February/March 2024 issue.
PHOTOGRAPHY: Emerson Miller
https://www.cowboysindians.com/2024/05/cowboy-corner-of-the-month-red-steagall-with-taylor-sheridan/
submitted by RodeoBoss66 to TheCowboyBunkhouse [link] [comments]


2024.05.07 07:31 RodeoBoss66 From Cowboys & Indians Magazine — Cowboy Corner: Taylor Sheridan

From Cowboys & Indians Magazine — Cowboy Corner: Taylor Sheridan

Cowboy poet Red Steagall sits down with Western auteur and 6666 Ranch owner Taylor Sheridan for a quick chat.

BY C&I Editors
May 4, 2024
As May rolls around and spring kicks into full gear, we’re looking back at the cowboy poet’s conversation with Yellowstone creator Taylor Sheridan. Plus, Red Steagall shares one of his beloved poems with us.
Red Steagall: Taylor Sheridan, I’m so glad you invited us to your house.
Taylor Sheridan: I’m glad you’re here.
Red: I have fond memories of the “Four Sixes.” It’s quite iconic.
Taylor: It’s a special place. It was where [Samuel Burk] Burnett built it. It was completed in 1917. His friend Quanah Parker ... as he built this fireplace behind us, you can see that there are antlers embedded into it. Those antlers are from a deer that Quanah killed, cut in half, and had embedded in there. And then his war lance lived there for many, many years. Now I believe the original is at the Ranching Heritage Center. ... My family lived around Waco and Stanford, which is about 30 miles from here. So, I grew up in the shadow of this ranch. And to be the person responsible for shepherding it into its next generation [is] a tremendous honor and responsibility, too.
Red: I grew up about 13 miles from the Borger Ranch at Dixon Creek, and my goal in life was to ride with the 6666 cowboys. That’s all I wanted to do my whole life. Then I got to do it on this ranch. Started in 1976, coming out for the spring works, and didn’t miss a year for 29 years. And I owe a lot to this ranch. It gave me a chance to understand what cowboys really do, what they’re all about, what their sense of values is, their customs, and their manners. Gosh, what great manners cowboys have.
Taylor: It’s interesting because you, like me, are a storyteller and a cowboy, and those two worlds, they collide a lot out here. ... The place is dadgum near a museum. And yet, all this art on these walls is from cowboys that have stayed out here — you being one of them — who camped out here and painted our cowboys from Boots O’Neal to Joe Leathers to Mike Gibson. ... It’s a piece of history.
Red: How did you get into the position of being a master storyteller?
Taylor: I was a terrible student, and I was a dreamer. Our ranch, outside of Cranfills Gap ... at the time I struggled a bit with it because we would go back and forth between being in school in Fort Worth. And yet we’d spend all our time out on this ranch near nobody. So, I didn’t have the experience that a lot of kids had where they’re going to go to this dance or this thing and all these play friends. I was just the guy that was stuck in school in town and then disappeared, or didn’t go to school for a week. So, I spent a whole lot of time by myself entertaining myself, just imagining stories in my head. I watched old westerns at a time when you’re a boy, or about to come into adolescence, and your mind’s real fertile. I hated the ranch until really that point. Then I watched the romance of it, and I got curious about the life that I was actually living. And I embraced it.
Find the full episode of Red Steagall Is Somewhere West of Wall Street, featuring the conversation with Taylor Sheridan (Episode 41; Original Air Date: Oct 09, 2023) at watchrfdtv.com.
———
The Last Buffalo
The yearly migration ofmillions of beasts,Made it look like the land was alive.The wolves took the weak ones,the winter took some,And the Indian took enough to survive.
The Indian believed the buffalowas his brother,Like the coyote, the eagle, the wind.He revered him in story, in song,and in dance,Was his larder, his shelter, his friend.
His brown hide was used forthe teepee and robes,A shoulder blade made a good hoe.A paunch held the food forthe winter supply,And a sinew a string for a bow.
Then the Sharp’s Big 50 roaredover the land,Till only a few head remained.The ones that were lefteither died of old ageOr were captured when theyfenced off the plain.
———
TV And Radio Schedule
Episodes of Red’s travel show, Red Steagall Is Somewhere West of Wall Street, air Mondays at 8:30 p.m. Central on RFD-TV. Find out more about the TV program at watchrfdtv.com and keep up with Red’s radio show, Cowboy Corner, at redsteagall.com/cowboy-corner. And be sure to visit Red’s new YouTube channel.
From our February/March 2024 issue.
PHOTOGRAPHY: Emerson Miller
https://www.cowboysindians.com/2024/05/cowboy-corner-of-the-month-red-steagall-with-taylor-sheridan/
submitted by RodeoBoss66 to YellowstonePN [link] [comments]


http://rodzice.org/