To clear up a common misconception that this is something that only happens extremely rarely, here's a list of every time more than 4 words have fit one of the categories and what number puzzle it occurred in. The first 4 words are the answers and every word after that in parenthesis are words that fit that category but were part of another group. Also, category names might not be exactly the same as the ones used.

#4 Cleaning Verbs

Possible answers: DUST, MOP, SWEEP, VACUUM, (IRON)

#5 Condiments

Possible answers: KETCHUP, MAYO, RELISH, TARTAR, (MUSTARD)

#5 Clue Characters

Possible answers: GREEN, MUSTARD, PLUM, SCARLET, (PEACOCK)

#6 Shades of Blue

Possible answers: BABY, MIDNIGHT, POWDER, ROYAL, (SEA)

#6 Rappers

Possible answers: COMMON, FUTURE, ICE CUBE, Q-TIP, (CHANCE)

#9 Shirts

Possible answers: CAMI, HALTER, TANK, TEE, (POLO)

#9 Vegetables

Possible answers: BEET, CARROT, CORN, ONION, (SQUASH)

#9 Insects

Possible answers: ANT, BEETLE, MANTIS, TERMITE, (CRICKET)

#10 Countries

Possible answers: CHAD, GEORGIA, JORDAN, TOGO, (TURKEY)

#10 Birds

Possible answers: CRANE, JAY, TURKEY, SWALLOW, (KIWI)

#11 Spices

Possible answers: CARDAMOM, CLOVE, CORIANDER, CUMIN, (GINGER)

#11 Terms of Endearment

Possible answers: BOO, HONEY, SUGAR, SWEETIE, (BABY)

#12 Animal Group Names

Possible answers: FLOCK, PACK, POD, SCHOOL, (PRIDE)

#12 Deadly Sins

Possible answers: ENVY, GREED, LUST, PRIDE, (SLOTH)

#13 Airlines

Possible answers: FRONTIER, SPIRIT, UNITED, VIRGIN, (DELTA)

#13 Greek Letters

Possible answers: BETA, CHI, DELTA, IOTA, (NU)

#13 Silent G's

Possible answers: GNAT, GNAW, GNOCCHI, GNOME, (GNU)

#14 Famous Brothers

Possible answers: JONAS, MARX, WARNER, WRIGHT, (MARIO)

#14 Honda Vehicles

Possible answers: ACCORD, CIVIC, PASSPORT, PILOT, (CANOPY)

#15 Colors

Possible answers: BROWN, PINK, TURQUOISE, VIOLET, (SILVER)

#15 Fishing Equipment

Possible answers: LURE, REEL, ROD, TACKLE, (HOOK)

#16 Nuts

Possible answers: ALMOND, CASHEW, PECAN, WALNUT (PEANUT)

#17 Neck Accessories

Possible answers: ASCOT, BOLO, TIE, SCARF, (BOW)

#19 Disagreement

Possible answers: QUARREL, ROW, SPAT, TIFF, QUARREL, (BEEF)

#20 Grains

Possible answers: BARLEY, OAT, RYE, SPELT, (RICE)

#20 Royal Titles

Possible answers: BARON, EARL, KING, PRINCE, (DUKE)

#23 60's Band Member

Possible answers: BEACH BOY, BEATLE, BYRD, MONKEE, (ROLLING STONE)

#23 Dance Fads

Possible answers: DOUGIE, MACARENA, MASHED POTATO, TWIST, (VOGUE)

#25 Desserts

Possible answers: CHEESECAKE, FLAN, MOUSSE, TIRAMISU, (FUDGE)

#25 Animals with Tusks

Possible answers: ELEPHANT, HIPPO, NARWHAL, WARTHOG, (WALRUS)

#26 Countries (Holland is technically a region but it's often used as an informal name for the Netherlands)

Possible answers: DENMARK, GREECE, POLAND, PORTUGAL, (HOLLAND)

#26 Spelled with Roman Numerals

Possible answers: DILL, LIVID, MILD, MIX, (MIMIC)

#27 Body Parts

Possible answers: HEART, LIVER, LUNG, KIDNEY, (SPINE)

#28 File Extensions

Possible answers: GIF, PDF, TIFF, ZIP, (DOC)

#28 Fruits

Possible answers: BANANA, COCONUT, MANGO, PINEAPPLE, (KIWI)

#30 Joints

Possible answers: HIP, KNEE, SHOULDER, WRIST, (ELBOW)

#33 Boats

Possible answers: FERRY, JUNK, TUG, YACHT, (SUB)

#33 Cuts of Beef

Possible answers: FLANK, LOIN, ROUND, SHANK, (CHUCK)

#34 Smell

Possible answers: AROMA, BOUQUET, FRAGRANCE, SCENT, (FUNK)

#34 Music Genres

Possible answers: BLUES, COUNTRY, FUNK, SOUL, (ROCK)

#35 Metals

Possible answers: IRON, LEAD, TIN, ZINC, (NICKEL)

#36 Animals

Possible answers: KANGAROO, KOALA, WALLABY, WOMBAT, (MOLE RAT)

#38 Trees

Possible answers: ASH, CEDAR, MAPLE, PINE, (ELM)

#38 Land Formation

Possible answers: HILL, MOUNTAIN, PLATEAU, VALLEY, (PLAIN)

#38 Bagel Flavors

Possible answers: EVERYTHING, ONION, PLAIN, POPPY, (SESAME)

#41 Islands

Possible answers: CUBA, JAPAN, MALTA, PALAU, (FIJI), (JAVA)

#42 Punctuation Marks

Possible answers: COLON, COMMA, HYPHEN, PERIOD, (DASH)

#43 Birds

Possible answers: BOOBY, GULL, PELICAN, PUFFIN, (CANARY)

#45 Modes of Transportation

Possible answers: BOAT, CAR, PLANE, TRAIN, (SUBWAY)

#46 Cities

Possible answers: CHICAGO, MUNICH, PHILADELPHIA, RIO, (MANHATTAN)

#46 Fashion Magazines

Possible answers: ALLURE, ELLE, GLAMOUR, W, (COSMOPOLITAN)

#46 Storms

Possible answers: BLIZZARD, CYCLONE, SQUALL, TORNADO, (HURRICANE)

#48 Apparitions

Possible answers: GHOST, PHANTOM, SPECTER, SPIRIT, (GENIE)

#49 Relatives

Possible answers: AUNT, COUSIN, MOTHER, NEPHEW, (GRANDFATHER)

#49 Offbeat

Possible answers: DAFFY, KOOKY, QUIRKY, WACKY, (CUCKOO)

#49 Fictional Ducks

Possible answers: DAISY, DEWEY, DONALD, SCROOGE, (DAFFY)

#50 Imperial Measurements

Possible answers: FOOT, INCH, MILE, YARD, (QUART)

#52 Rodents

Possible answers: GERBIL, HAMSTER, RAT, VOLE, (MOUSE)

#52 Musical Instruments

Possible answers: HARP, HORN, ORGAN, TRIANGLE, (KEYBOARD)

#52 Complain

Possible answers: CARP, GRIPE, GROUSE, MOAN, (HARP)

#53 Animal Group Names

Possible answers: COLONY, HERD, PRIDE, SWARM, (FAMILY)

#53 AP Classes

Possible answers: BIO, CHEM, GOV, STATS, (LIT)

#54 Places for Worship

Possible answers: ALTAR, RELIQUARY, SHRINE, TEMPLE, (ABBEY)

#54 Presidents

Possible answers: CALVIN, CHESTER, GROVER, HARRY, (GARFIELD)

#56 Dances

Possible answers: HUSTLE, SALSA, SWING, TANGO, (TAP)

#57 Patterns

Possible answers: HOUNDSTOOTH, PAISLEY, PLAID, STRIPES, (DOT)

#58 Arachnids

Possible answers: MITE, SCORPION, SPIDER, TICK, (BLACK WIDOW)

#58 Fish

Possible answers: CHAR, EEL, PERCH, SHARK, (CATFISH)

#58 Superheroes

Possible answers: BLACK WIDOW, BLADE, FLASH, STORM, (TICK)

#59 Quantity

Possible answers: FEW, HANDFUL, SEVERAL, SOME, (PAIR)

#59 Celestial Objects

Possible answers: ASTEROID, COMET, MOON, PLANET, (SUN)

#60 Sports Venues

Possible answers: COURT, DIAMOND, FIELD, RINK, (RING)

#60 Jewelry

Possible answers: ANKLET, BANGLE, BROOCH, PENDANT, (RING), (CHARM)

#62 State Abbreviations

Possible answers: CO, MA, ME, PA, (LA)

#62 Period Table Symbols

Possible answers: FE, HE, NA, NI, (CO), (PA), (LA), (TI)

#63 Slang for Zero

Possible answers: JACK, NADA, NOTHING, SQUAT, (ZIP)

#63 Exercises

Possible answers: CURL, LUNGE, PLANK, PRESS, (SQUAT), (CRUNCH)

#63 Captains

Possible answers: CRUNCH, KANGAROO, OBVIOUS, PLANET, (JACK)

#64 Dog Names

Possible answers: FIDO, LUCKY, ROVER, SPOT, (REX)

#64 Perceive

Possible answers: CATCH, NOTICE, OBSERVE, SEE, (SPOT)

#64 Fishing Terms

Possible answers: BAIT, CHUM, FLY, SINKER, (CATCH)

#65 Energy

Possible answers: JUICE, SPIRIT, STEAM, VIGOR, (GAS), (FIRE)

#66 Time Periods

Possible answers: CENTURY, DECADE, MILLENNIUM, YEAR, (MONTH)

#66 Breakfast Foods

Possible answers: CEREAL, OMELET, PANCAKE, WAFFLE, (BACON), (EGG)

#67 Desserts

Possible answers: CAKE, COBBLER, PIE, TART, (FUDGE)

#67 Occupations

Possible answers: FISHER, MASON, MILLER, SMITH, (DOCTOR)

#68 Extremely

Possible answers: AWFUL, QUITE, SUPER, VERY, (REAL)

#68 Currencies

Possible answers: RAND, REAL, STERLING, WON, (POUND)

#68 _____Cake

Possible answers: CARROT, COFFEE, POUND, SPONGE, (CUP)

#69 Shoes

Possible answers: CLOG, PUMP, SLIDE, WEDGE, (MARY JANE)

#69 Slang for Marijuana

Possible answers: GRASS, HERB, MARY JANE, WEED, (BUD), (POT)

#70 Camping Supplies

Possible answers: COOLER, LANTERN, SLEEPING BAG, TENT, (CAMPER)

#70 Insult

Possible answers: BARB, DIG, DISS, JAB, (SLIGHT)

#71 States

Possible answers: ARIZONA, COLORADO, NEVADA, UTAH, (KANSAS), (MONTANA)

#72 Santa's Reindeer

Possible answers: COMET, CUPID, DASHER, VIXEN, (DANCER)

#72 Seen on Valentine's Day

Possible answers: CARD, HEART, CHOCOLATE, ROSE, (CUPID)

#73 Facial Hair

Possible answers: BEARD, GOATEE, MUSTACHE, STUBBLE, (HANDLEBAR)

#73 Pursue

Possible answers: DOG, FOLLOW, TAIL, TRACK, (SHADOW)

#74 Failures

Possible answers: BUSTS, FLOPS, MISSES, TURKEYS, (DUDS)

#75 Social Gathering

Possible answers: BASH, BLOWOUT, PARTY, SHINDIG, (MIXER)

#75 Found in a Kitchen

Possible answers: COUNTER, MIXER, RANGE, SINK, (ISLAND)

#79 Depart Quickly

Possible answers: BOOK, BOUNCE, RUN, SPLIT, (JET)

#79 Shades of Black

Possible answers: EBONY, JET, ONYX, RAVEN, (BLACK)

#80 Influence

Possible answers: CLOUT, PULL, WEIGHT, SWAY, (IMPACT)

#81 Appetizer Unit

Possible answers: FRY, NACHO, POPPER, WING, (CHIP), (CRACKER)

#81 Response to a Correct Answer

Possible answers: BINGO, CORRECT, RIGHT, YES, (DING)

#82 Drink Vessels

Possible answers: GOBLET, SNIFTER, TUMBLER, STEIN, (FLUTE)

#82 Woodwinds

Possible answers: CLARINET, FLUTE, OBOE, SAXOPHONE, (BASSOON)

#82 American Poets

Possible answers: BISHOP, FROST, OLDS, POUND, (STEIN)

#83 Unclothed

Possible answers: BARE, NAKED, NUDE, UNCLAD, (BUFF)

#83 Football Actions

Possible answers: FUMBLE, PUNT, SACK, SNAP, (TURNOVER)

#83 Finger Actions

Possible answers: BUFF, CLIP, FILE, POLISH, (SNAP)

#84 Female Animals

Possible answers: COW, DOE, HEN, MARE, (EWE)

#84 Pronouns

Possible answers: I, IT, THEY, WE, (YOU)

#84 Roman Numerals

Possible answers: D, L, M, V, (I)

#86 Information Displays

Possible answers: CHART, DIAGRAM, GRAPH, MAP, (PIE)

#86 Additional Benefit

Possible answers: BONUS, EXTRA, ICING, PERK, (GRAVY)

#86 Creatures in Folklore

Possible answers: GNOME, GOBLIN, OGRE, TROLL, (DRAGON)

#89 Alcohol

Possible answers: CIDER, PORT, SAKE, STOUT, (SPIRIT), (SCOTCH)

#89 Pixar Movies

Possible answers: BRAVE, CARS, COCO, UP, (SOUL)

#90 Baseball Calls

Possible answers: BALL, OUT, SAFE, STRIKE, (WALK)

#90 Fish

Possible answers: CARP, CATFISH, FLOUNDER, SMELT, (SALMON)

#91 Jungle Animals

Possible answers: ANACONDA, CAPYBARA, JAGUAR, TOUCAN, (LION)

#91 Lowest Point

Possible answers: BASE, BOTTOM, FOOT, FOUNDATION, (LEGS)

#92 Halloween Decorations

Possible answers: BAT, COBWEB, PUMPKIN, TOMBSTONE, (BONES)

#93 Animal Sounds

Possible answers: BUZZ, CLUCK, MEOW, OINK, (BARK)

#93 Inside Info

Possible answers: DIRT, DISH, SCOOP, SKINNY, (TEA)

#95 Songs that are Names

Possible answers: ALEJANDRO, LOLA, MICHELLE, STAN, (IRIS)

#96 Animals

Possible answers: BUFFALO, COW, GOAT, SHEEP, (HORSE)

#96 Gymnastics Apparatus

Possible answers: FLOOR, HORSE, RINGS, VAULT, (BEAM)

#97 Fairy Tale Figures

Possible answers: GIANT, PRINCESS, WITCH, WOLF, (QUEEN)

#97 "Peanuts" Characters

Possible answers: CHARLIE, PEPPERMINT PATTY, PIGPEN, WOODSTOCK, (LUCY)

#98 Fruits

Possible answers: APRICOT, FIG, GRAPE, LIME, (BERRY)

#98 Luxurious

Possible answers: DELUXE, GRAND, LAVISH, OPULENT, (SWANK)

#99 Intelligent

Possible answers: BRIGHT, CLEVER, QUICK, SHARP, (SMART)

#100 Web Browser-Related

Possible answers: BOOKMARK, HISTORY, TAB, WINDOW, (LINK), (POCKET)

#100 Dirty_____

Possible answers: DOZEN, JOKE, LAUNDRY, MARTINI, (WINDOW)

#101 Bowling Terms

Possible answers: ALLEY, BALL, LANE, PIN, (SPARE)

#101 Common Merch Items

Possible answers: MUG, PEN, TEE, TOTE, (PIN)

#102 Vehicles

Possible answers: BUS, CAR, MOTORCYCLE, TRUCK, (SCOOTER)

#102 Muppets

Possible answers: ANIMAL, BEAKER, GONZO, SCOOTER, (CHEF), (PIGGY)

#103 Soda Fountain Orders (Concrete can mean a type of milkshake or frozen custard)

Possible answers: FLOAT, MALT, SHAKE, SUNDAE, (CONCRETE), (SPLIT)

#104 Robust

Possible answers: FIT, HEALTHY, SOUND, STRONG, (WELL)

#104 Water Sources

Possible answers: FOUNTAIN, SPRING, TAP, WELL, (SINK)

#105 Kitchen Utensils

Possible answers: GRATER, LADLE, PEELER, WHISK, (CLEAVER)

#106 Wedding Items

Possible answers: BOUQUET, RING, TRAIN, VEIL, (CAKE)

#106 Encase

Possible answers: CAKE, COAT, COVER, CRUST, (VEIL)

#107 Snakes

Possible answers: BOA, MAMBA, PYTHON, VIPER, (GARTER)

#108 Produced by Trees

Possible answers: ACORN, CONE, POLLEN, SAP, (GUM), (NEEDLE)

#108 Candy

Possible answers: CHOCOLATE, GUM, LICORICE, LOLLIPOP, (SUCKER)

#108 Target of a Scheme

Possible answers: CHUMP, FOOL, MARK, SUCKER, (SAP)

#109 Rap Subgenres

Possible answers: BOUNCE, CRUNK, DRILL, GRIME, (TRAP)

#110 Golf Clubs

Possible answers: IRON, PUTTER, WEDGE, WOOD, (CLUB)

#112 Coffee Counter Items

Possible answers: CUP, LID, STIRRER, STRAW, (STICK)

#114 Talk

Possible answers: BLATHER, CHAT, GAB, JABBER, (YAK)

#115 Christmas-Related

Possible answers: MISTLETOE, REINDEER, SNOWMAN, STOCKING, (PRESENT), (CANDY CANE)

#116 MLB Teams

Possible answers: ANGEL, CUB, MET, RED, (NAT)

#119 Celebratory Occasion

Possible answers: ANNIVERSARY, BIRTHDAY, SHOWER, WEDDING, (RECEPTION), (SERVICE)

#120 Crops

Possible answers: CORN, CUCUMBER, PEPPER, TOMATO, (MELON)

#121 Bible Books

Possible answers: ACTS, JOB, KINGS, MARK, (GENESIS)

#121 NHL Teams

Possible answers: FLAMES, KRAKEN, STARS, WILD, (KINGS), (RANGER)

#123 Conceal

Possible answers: BLOCK, COVER, HIDE, MASK, (SHIELD)

#124 "L" Cities

Possible answers: LAGOS, LIMERICK, LINCOLN, LUXOR, (LIMA)

#124 Poetry Terms

Possible answers: LINE, METER, RHYME, VERSE, (LIMERICK)

#125 Butt

Possible answers: BOTTOM, BUNS, SEAT, TAIL, (BOOTY)

#126 Tools

Possible answers: HAMMER, FILE, LEVEL, SAW, (WRENCH)

#126 Keyboard Shortcuts

Possible answers: COPY, FIND, PRINT, SAVE, (FILE)

#127 Days of the Week

Possible answers: FRIDAY, SATURDAY, SUNDAY, THURSDAY, (WEDNESDAY), (TUESDAY)

#127 Go Bad

Possible answers: ROT, SOUR, SPOIL, TURN, (FESTER)

#129 Bit of Air

Possible answers: BREEZE, DRAFT, GUST, PUFF, (PANT)

#130 Falsify

Possible answers: FABRICATE, FAKE, FIX, FORGE, (FUDGE)

#130 TV Shows

Possible answers: FARGO, FIREFLY, FLEABAG, FLIPPER, (FRIENDS)

#131 Animal Homes

Possible answers: DEN, LAIR, HIVE, NEST, (WEB), (WARREN)

#131 Equitable

Possible answers: EQUAL, EVEN, FAIR, JUST, (GOOD)

#132 Tableware

Possible answers: BOWL, DISH, PLATE, SAUCER, (CROCK), (CUP)

#133 British Food

Possible answers: MASH, ROAST, SCONE, TRIFLE, (BANGER)

#133 Predicament

Possible answers: BIND, PICKLE, SCRAPE, SPOT, (JAM)

#134 Impel

Possible answers: DRIVE, INSPIRE, MOTIVATE, SPUR, (SPARK)

#135 Compound Words

Possible answers: BACKPACK, BIGWIG, DOWNTOWN, RAGTAG, (TEXTBOOK)

#136 Grammar Tenses

Possible answers: FUTURE, PAST, PERFECT, PRESENT, (SIMPLE)

#136 The 12 Days of Christmas

Possible answers: DRUMMER, LADY, RING, SWAN, (LORD)

#137 Excellent

Possible answers: ACES, KEEN, NEATO, NIFTY, (SWELL)

#137 Bubbles

Possible answers: FOAM, FROTH, HEAD, LATHER, (BUBBLE)

#138 Metals

Possible answers: COPPER, GOLD, NICKEL, SILVER, (BRASS), (MERCURY)

#139 Aesthetics

Possible answers: DRESS, LOOK, MANNER, STYLE, (TASTE)

#140 Mishmash

Possible answers: HASH, JUMBLE, MEDLEY, STEW, (LITTER)

#143 Filler Words

Possible answers: ERM, UH, UM, WELL, (LIKE), (ER)

#146 Clue Weapons

Possible answers: CANDLESTICK, KNIFE, ROPE, WRENCH, (PIPE)

#147 Unchanging

Possible answers: EVEN, LEVEL, STABLE, STEADY, (UNIFORM)

#147 Long, Sharp Objects

Possible answers: LANCE, PIN, SKEWER, SPIT, (PITCHFORK)

#148 Musical Format

Possible answers: LP, PLATTER, VINYL, WAX, (CD)

#148 Cube-Shaped

Possible answers: BOUILLON, DIE, ICE, SUGAR, (STOCK)

#150 Equivocate

Possible answers: HEDGE, SEE-SAW, WAVER, YO-YO, (FLIP-FLOP), (WAFFLE)

#151 Podcasts

Possible answers: RADIOLAB, SERIAL, UP FIRST, WTF, (FRESH AIR), (REPLY ALL)

#152 Intelligent

Possible answers: BRIGHT, QUICK, SHARP, SMART, (SAGE)

#152 Medieval Weapons

Possible answers: CLUB, MACE, SPEAR, SWORD, (AXE)

#153 Filmmaking Equipment

Possible answers: BOOM, DOLLY, LENS, TRIPOD, (GRIP)

#154 Sports Professionals

Possible answers: COACH, GM, PLAYER, SCOUT, (SUB)

#154 Car Companies

Possible answers: BMW, HONDA, JAGUAR, SUBARU, (FORD), (GM)

#156 Vocal Fanfare

Possible answers: BEHOLD, PRESTO, TADA, VOILA, (SURPRISE)

#157 Magazines

Possible answers: O, OK, US, W, (EW), (SI)

#157 Yes

Possible answers: HAI, JA, SI, DA, (OK), (OUI)

#158 Animals

Possible answers: BUFFALO, DEER, FISH, MOOSE, (BULL), (STEER), (SEAL)

#160 Quick Observation

Possible answers: GANDER, GLANCE, GLIMPSE, LOOK, (PEEK)

#160 Parts of a Mountain

Possible answers: CLIFF, CRAG, LEDGE, RIDGE, (BLUFF), (PEAK)

#161 _____Day

Possible answers: EARTH, GROUNDHOG, LABOR, MAY, (BIRTH)

#162 Primates

Possible answers: BABOON, BONOBO, GIBBON, GORILLA, (APE)

#162 Fashionable

Possible answers: CHIC, HIP, HOT, IN, (VOGUE)

#164 Area Between Mountains

Possible answers: CANYON, GULCH, PASS, RAVINE, (GORGE)

#165 Food

Possible answers: PASTY, PIE, TART, TURNOVER, (PARFAIT), (RAGOUT), (CURRY)

#165 Countries

Possible answers: JAPAN, POLAND, TUNISIA, TURKEY, (JORDAN)

#166 Reality Shows

Possible answers: ALONE, CATFISH, CHOPPED, SURVIVOR, (BACHELOR)

#168 Municipalities

Possible answers: CITY, TOWN, COUNTY, VILLAGE, (CAPITAL)

#171 Parts of the Foot

Possible answers: ARCH, BALL, SOLE, TOE, (HEEL)

#171 Dog Commands

Possible answers: COME, DOWN, SIT, STAY, (HEEL)

#173 Ways to Remove Hair

Possible answers: SHAVE, THREAD, TWEEZE, WAX, (CUT)

#174 Hold Back

Possible answers: CAP, CHECK, CURB, LIMIT, (HAMPER)

#175 Excite, with "Up"

Possible answers: AMP, FIRE, HYPE, PUMP, (GAS)

#177 TV Shows

Possible answers: CHEERS, EUPHORIA, FELICITY, GLEE, (FRASIER)

#178 Found on Sheet Music

Possible answers: CLEF, NOTE, REST, STAFF, (SCALES)

#178 Zodiac Symbols

Possible answers: BULL, CRAB, SCALES, TWINS, (VIRGIN)

#180 Absolute

Possible answers: PURE, SHEER, TOTAL, UTTER, (STARK)

#180 Express

Possible answers: AIR, SPEAK, STATE, VOICE, (UTTER)

#181 Cooking Oils

Possible answers: CORN, OLIVE, PALM, PEANUT, (RICE)

#183 Luxurious Fabrics

Possible answers: CHIFFON, SILK, SATIN, VELVET, (LACE)

#185 -ough

Possible answers: BOUGH, COUGH, DOUGH, TOUGH, (ROUGH), (ENOUGH)

#189 Used to Build a Snowman

Possible answers: CARROT, COAL, SNOW, STICKS, (STONES)

#190 NYC Avenues

Possible answers: BROADWAY, FIFTH, MADISON, PARK, (SECOND), (FIRST), (ELEVENTH)

#191 Accessories

Possible answers: BELT, BRACELET, TIE, WATCH, (CHARM)

#199 Name Prefixes

Possible answers: GEN, MS, PROF, REV, (DR)

#200 Parts of a Car

Possible answers: BUMPER, HOOD, TIRE, TRUNK, (DASH)

#201 Single Letter Homophones

Possible answers: BEE, EX, GEE, JAY, (TEE)

#203 New Years-Related

Possible answers: BALL, COUNTDOWN, FIREWORKS, KISS, (PARTY), (RESOLUTION), (CHAMPAGNE)

#207 Gift-Giving Accessories

Possible answers: BOW, BOX, CARD, WRAPPING, (MESSAGE)

#210 Kinds of Exams

Possible answers: BAR, FINAL, ORAL, PHYSICAL, (EYE)

#211 Long, Skinny Objects

Possible answers: POLE, ROD, STAFF, STICK, (CLUB)

#212 Cooking Elements

Possible answers: ACID, FAT, HEAT, SALT, (PEPPER), (SMOKE)

#213 Seen at a Casino

Possible answers: CARDS, CHIPS, DICE, SLOTS, (POKER)

#213 Ways to Prepare Cheese

Possible answers: CRUMBLE, MELT, SHRED, SLICE, (GRATE)

#217 Thieve

Possible answers: PINCH, ROB, STEAL, SWIPE, (JACK)

#218 Medicine Formats

Possible answers: CAPSULE, CREAM, SYRUP, TABLET, (POD)

#221 Colors

Possible answers: BLUE, GREEN, WHITE, YELLOW, (SCARLET)

#222 Minced Oaths

Possible answers: CURSES, DARN, RATS, SHOOT, (FUDGE), (NUTS)

#224 Contains Wax

Possible answers: CANDLE, CRAYON, HONEYCOMB, SEAL, (EAR)

#229 Baseball-Related

Possible answers: BALL, BASE, BAT, GLOVE, (STRIKE)

#233 Mario Power-ups

Possible answers: FEATHER, STAR, MUSHROOM, FLOWER, (HAMMER)

#234 _____Pit

Possible answers: BARBECUE, ORCHESTRA, SNAKE, TAR, (FIRE)

#235 Make Shorter

Possible answers: CLIP, CUT, PARE, TRIM, (PRUNE)

#235 Muscular

Possible answers: BUILT, JACKED, RIPPED, SWOLE, (TRIM), (BUFF)

#237 Farm Fixtures

Possible answers: COOP, PEN, STABLE, STY, (RANGE)

#238 Unexciting

Possible answers: BORING, DULL, MUNDANE, VANILLA, (ROUTINE), (DRY)

#239 Ecclesiastical Titles

Possible answers: BISHOP, CARDINAL, PASTOR, PRIOR, (BROTHER), (LORD)

#251 Media Attention

Possible answers: COVERAGE, EXPOSURE, PRESS, PUBLICITY, (MEDIA)

#254 Little Bit of Liquid

Possible answers: BEAD, GLOB, DROP, TEAR, (DRIP)

#257 Shades of Green

Possible answers: OLIVE, FOREST, LIME, MINT, (CACTUS)

#260 Ilk

Possible answers: KIND, SORT, TYPE, VARIETY, (MANNER)

#263 Propel into the Air

Possible answers: HOP, JUMP, LEAP, SPRING, (VAULT)

#266 Large Amount

Possible answers: MASS, SEA, SLEW, TON, (WAVE)

#266 Fall under Pressure

Possible answers: BUCKLE, CAVE, COLLAPSE, GIVE, (FLOP)

#268 Pop Stars

Possible answers: GRANDE, MARS, STYLES, SWIFT, (LEGEND)

#269 Found at an Airport

Possible answers: HANGAR, RUNWAY, TARMAC, TERMINAL, (WINDSOCK)

#269 Ends in an Article of Clothing (A Mac is a raincoat)

Possible answers: FOXGLOVE, GUMSHOE, TURNCOAT, WINDSOCK, (TARMAC), (LAWSUIT)

#271 Food Preservation Techniques

Possible answers: CAN, CURE, DRY, FREEZE, (SPICE)

#272 Space_____

Possible answers: BAR, CADET, HEATER, STATION, (BLANKET)

#273 Keyboard Keys

Possible answers: COMMAND, CONTROL, OPTION, SHIFT, (SPACE)

#283 Seen at a Sports Stadium

Possible answers: ASTROTURF, JUMBOTRON, SCOREBOARD, SKYBOX, (KISSCAM), (JOURNEYMAN)

#284 Animals

Possible answers: COW, DOE, HEN, EWE, (YAK)

#284 Palindromes

Possible answers: BIB, EYE, GAG, POP, (EWE)

#285 Olympic Sports

Possible answers: BREAKING, HOCKEY, TRAMPOLINE, SKELETON, (CRICKET), (SQUASH), (VOLLEYBALL)

#289 Plant Growths

Possible answers: BLOOM, BUD, SHOOT, SPROUT, (CORONA)

#290 Quarrel

Possible answers: FIGHT, ROW, SCRAP, TIFF, (WAR)

#290 Games of Chance (Poker is technically a game of skill but it's still highly associated with chance)

Possible answers: BINGO, LOTTERY, ROULETTE, WAR, (POKER)

#291 Whale Species

Possible answers: BLUE, FIN, GRAY, RIGHT, (PILOT)

#293 Food Preservation Techniques

Possible answers: CANS, CURES, SALTS, SMOKES, (JAMS), (PICKLES)

#296 Thrust

Possible answers: JAB, POKE, PROD, STICK, (ELBOW)

#301 _____Horse

Possible answers: CHARLEY, CRAZY, DARK, GIFT, (PRIZE)

#302 Brief Moment

Possible answers: FLASH, HEARTBEAT, JIFF, WINK, (ZIP)

#302 Dispute

Possible answers: CLASH, TANGLE, SCRAP, TIFF, (SPAT)

#303 Hair Care Items

Possible answers: BRUSH, COMB, DRYER, IRON, (OIL)

#307 Seen at the Circus

Possible answers: CLOWN, RING, TENT, TRAPEZE, (LION)

#310 Parts of a Theatre

Possible answers: BALCONY, BOX, ORCHESTRA, STAGE, (FLOOR)

#312 Golden_____

Possible answers: FLEECE, GIRLS, PARACHUTE, RULE, (MEAN)

#315 Starting with the Same Sound

Possible answers: CYMBAL, SCIMITAR, SIMMER, SYMPHONY, (SYMBOL)

#318 Mexican Food-Related

Possible answers: CILANTRO, LIME, ONION, SALSA, (PICO), (WRAP), (MOLE)

#328 _____Sale

Possible answers: BAKE, CLEARANCE, GARAGE, SAMPLE, (YARD)

#329 Enjoy

Possible answers: FANCY, LOVE, RELISH, SAVOR, (LIKE)

#330 Quantity

Possible answers: FEW, MANY, SEVERAL, SOME, (COUPLE), (HANDFUL)

#333 Restrict

Possible answers: CHECK, CONTAIN, CURB, LIMIT, (CAP)

#339 Forthright

Possible answers: DIRECT, FRANK, OPEN, STRAIGHT, (PLAIN)

#342 Games

Possible answers: CATEGORIES, CHARADES, FISHBOWL, WEREWOLF, (MOUSETRAP)

#345 Billiards-Related

Possible answers: BALL, CHALK, CUE, RACK, (POCKET)

#348 Things You can Crack

Possible answers: EGG, KNUCKLES, SMILE, WINDOW, (CORN)

#351 _____Iron

Possible answers: PUMP, STEAM, TIRE, WAFFLE, (FLAT)

#355 Things People Shake

Possible answers: HANDS, MARACA, POLAROID, SNOWGLOBE, (BODY)

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Hi I just came across a novel, chosen by the moon novel by izabella W. Its on pay by chapter websites, I've opened and read a few chapters but I can't seem to find any free version or chapter version anywhere. Please help. If anyone has read it I'm willing to take spoilers. Here's the advert I found below of it on Facebook.
Lycanthrope species is a disgusting race. And I, Delan Riley, am nothing more than a human scum in their eyes never expected those species would turn my world upside down. Since when the lycans managed to penetrate our town, like in the early 1900's we have a hierarchy, upper class = the lycans, middle class = mated humans, and lower class = the normal humans, who were basically considered scum. I endured their torment day after day, vowing to run away from them one day, until that day came and everything changed.
Dylan POV "Humans," I scowled at the principal's words from tannoy. "The Alpha twins will be celebrating their birthday tomorrow, as such, festivities are in order." Oh great, the Alphas twin children. Adrian and Arya are the worst lycans alive. I swear just because they are the alphas kids they literally get away with everything. If their birthday is tomorrow, then the wolves are going to be worse than ever. "All students will be present to greet them, two lines will be made, with humans on the left and the lycanthrope on the right. Any mated human will be at the front of the line for their year, you will all also be in order of your school year. That is all." Chat broke out the minute the tannoy was finished. "We haven't had a school gathering since the alpha king visited three years ago, before his sons coronation." Nick was right, the last time we all gathered like that was for the king and queens visit, when he decided to let the world know that he was to renounce his title to his only child, son Josh. "That sick bestard, he wants to make sure everyone is there so those idiot twins can find their mates." Yes I was mad, my fists connected with the table in front of me once more as I thought about how disgusting the situation was. You see the twins will be turning 17, so it's very possible someone in our school could be their mate, finding a mate is sacred to a wolf, the minute they say that one word your fate is sealed. They will turn your mind, morph you into being a lover of their kind, and then you'll give in.

That won't happen to me, I'm growing old to see the world as it once was, and I'm going to choose who I'll be with. No one will take that dream away from me.

Once dinner was finished, I just wanted to sleep. I'd had a very long tiring day, I quickly sat down on a small stool my mother kept in the storage closet and removed my shirt while my brother Freddy sat at the table to do his simple homework. It wasn't long before my mother came in with a large bowl of warm salt water and some cotton, this was going to sting I just knew it. She was here to help me with the wounds caused by wolves yesterday. She slowly began to unwrap the bandage from around my torso and slowed down drastically when it came to the final layer, I felt it peel off every wound and my fists clenched in pain. "Jesus!" I heard my mom exclaim once the dressing was completely removed. The air on my back was nice though and I sighed as my arm covered my once again exposed brests. "This is more than 15!" I began to hear sniffles coming from her and sighed turning round to look at her face, only to notice tears streaming down it. "Mom I'm fine, it's alright." She shook her head. "It's not alright, I'm your mother I shouldn't let these things happen. I'm so sorry. Your father would have..." here she goes again. Every single time something happened she'd always bring up dad, it really annoyed me because no matter how much we all wish he was here, he just isn't. My father was kiled by THEIR kind, almost 5 years ago when they actually managed to take over. When the lycans managed to penetrate our town my father rose up with some people from the neighborhood, to defend our livelihood, it was futile to say the least. We lost many people and I watched as my dad was ripped apart by two fully shifted wolves, I ended up shoting him to stop his suffering before they dragged me to the courtyard, i was the person to receive the first lashing of the town when I was 12! The wolves have been pretty strict with me since that day. "Stop being stvpid!" Was I harsh? Definitely! Did she need to hear it again, absolutely. "Dad is dead, we don't know what he'd do because he never knew this life. He never knew this world." I know what he'd have done, most likely attacked the guy who held the whip and got himself kiled in the process. "The best thing you can do for me, is stop crying and help me, next time don't insist on helping if you can't handle it." She began to wash my open wounds with the warm salt water causing loud winces to leave me, I knew it was necessary to prevent infection, but my god it hurt like a betch. "Some of these are really deep Dylan!" She sniffed again and my eyes rolled in my head. "I told you, I'm fine, just wrap me back up so I can get to bed." My mom was obviously more impacted by my injuries than I was, I suppose that always the case though. When it's happening to you, you've just got to get through it but when it's happening to someone you love, you just want to take their pain away. She quickly placed a fresh bandage around my waist and chest and wrapped it tightly for compression. The bowl of water that was used was now red in color, I guess from the blood my back was dripping with. "Can you keep your head down please? At least just this week. You can't take any more lashings." I simply nodded before standing up away from the stool, I walked over to Freddie and ruffled his hair in affection. "Good night squirt." He giggled and fixed his hair slightly. "Night Dilly." I smiled walking upstairs to my little bedroom, as soon as I was inside i shut the door and flopped down on to my bed on my stomach and I took a minute to cry to myself at the pain in my back, what my mom did was important but it hurt, not that I'd ever tell her. My hand covered my mouth quickly to muffle any noise I might be making. I couldn't tell anyone, I had to be strong because more and more people were crumpling these days, and my mom would break if she knew how much I was suffering. Sleep followed me shortly after, she was right though about me needing to keep my head down for the time being, I could not take another lashing! After a long night and an even longer morning, we were all finally stood in the hallway at school waiting for the twins to arrive. "Mine!" Everyone that was stood in the hallway tensed up, as we were seniors, me and Nick were stood towards the very back of the human line. All the mated people were situated directly opposite their wolf mates in their years. We stayed silent and still as Arya walked down the hall and stopped directly in front of Nick. His eyes widened in fear, unsure of wether to look up or keep his head lowered. "Look me in the eye, mate." He glanced at me slightly as if asking what he should do. "I said, look me in the eye." He slowly moved his eye line up to look at her face. I took a glance myself to see her eyes pitch black with lust. "I... can't... I mean... erm." Before he was able to mutter anything else, two wolves from opposite, grabbed him out of the line and dragged him behind Arya. "Hey!" My head shot up before I could stop myself. My mouth also forgot its place as I jumped out of line. Everyone's head shot to me as my eyes widened in realization at what I'd done. Adrian, the other twin, walked up to me before punching me right in the stomach, I doubled over instantly. Feeling the sting in my slightly healed back. "I know you... You were publicly flogged only two days ago." God I hate this guy. "I also have it on good authority, that you openly spoke out against our rules and regulations in yesterday's class." My head shot down the line slightly to see Erin, looking a little frightened, her mate, the beta to be was looking at her, nodding his head in reassurance. "You traitor, you grassed on your own kind?" I yelled at her before feeling a fist connect with my cheek. My head whipped to the side from the force, while my class members gasped. I'm so done with this treatment, right then, I wasn't in charge of my actions. My fists curled up and my stance became a lot more defensive. My head snapped up to the alpha to be, and I looked him in the eye. "You don't know the meaning of the word disrespect." I suddenly hurled my fist towards his head, which he easily dodged, but my foot came up and kicked him instead. He stumbled backwards from the force with wide eyes. "You... you Actually hit me!" He didn't even sound annoyed, more shocked. Everyone in the hallway was watching, waiting for the alpha to do something but instead he simply stood up straight, regaining his composure. "I think everyone should get back to class." He began to walk away, following his sister when I called him back. "What about Nick?!" "Simple, He's my sisters mate. He now belongs to her." Argh, he's not an object. "He's not her property." A chuckle left his mouth, before turning his back to me again. "All humans are property." A short while later everyone made it to science class, our teacher Mrs Mathews is mated to the lycans pack doctor, she also now has a four and two year old with him. She was one of the first humans to be cohered into a false relationship. "What were you thinking young lady?" I rolled my head at her before looking at the empty seat next to mine. Nick was with that stvpid wolf girl right now. Being changed, I'm so angry it's ridiculous. "I was thinking, this guy is being a prick. Did you hear him? 'All humans are property.' It's bull shet." I looked up and the whole class looked at me like I had three heads. Talking shet about wolves is one thing, but talking about an alpha is punishable by death, attacking an alpha is an even worse offense. There was then a knock at the door and in walked Erin and her band of mated bestards. "Sorry we're late Mrs." "Erin, how are things between you and bata Monroe?" She blushed, the traitor actually blushed at the mention of his name. "He spoke to me last night about trying for a baby. We need a good strong boy to take over as beta." I scoffed looking at her as she took her seat. "You guys are actually pathetic, why can't it be a girl? Those mutts are basically Neanderthals" I voiced my opinion and saw all the shocked faces around me. Calling the lycans mutts, is the same as them calling us scum. After lesson had ended the entire school was called into the hall for assembly. This is where any human who has been found to have broken the rules were punished, usually 10 lashings were goven out or something similar. "Welcome to the school assembly, congratulations to the alpha twins for finding both your mates. Now on to the business at hand, as the 5 year anniversary of the new world is coming up, we have been informed that the alpha king will be visiting our district next week, this is very exciting news. We want you all to look your absolute best, she wolves and mated females will wear exemplary dresses made by seamstress. Male wolves and mated men will wear tailored suits. Anyone who doesn't comply will be reprimanded." The Alpha King?! No one has met him yet, he took over the throne three years ago when he turned 18. He really didn't make any appearances though, great, this month is going to be a nightmare. "As for the humans, you will be given a new uniform to wear for the visit, these are to be neatly ironed and worn to the highest standard. As for the following humans, based on your attitude this past week, you will be coming to the front and facing punishment. Tony summerset?!" Tony's head shot up as he looked around, he was in the year below but he shared my views when it came to the lycans. He slowly walked up to the front of assembly, almost instantly his top was t0rn in two and he received 10 lashings. A girl named Kara was next and she too received 10 lashings. A few more people went up slowly accepting their fate then suddenly my name was called. "Dylan Riley." Inside I was terrified but I simply shrugged my shoulders, I guess I did kind of expect this. Although I'm not sure if my back can take any more damage. "You attacked an alpha, correct!" His eyes bored into mine as I bowed my head submitting to his authority. "Technically, no." Everyone in the school gym looked on in fear, as my head moved to the front row of the wolf side. Adrian sat, with a werewolf girl in the year below, her name was Jana, I guess he found his mate. Nick and Arya were no where to be seen though. Adrian gave me a shrug as if to say he didn't tell, before smirking at my comment. "He hasn't officially taken the alpha title yet, so he's just..." i looked at the principle and noticed his eyes black and his claws out, he was in what lycans call a half shift, triggered when the subject has become angered. He turned to two security wolves and gave them a nod, Almost immediately i was forced onto my knees, my arm was slammed on a table and held in place by one wolf, while my body was held in place by the other. "Ok, I don't think this is needed, I have alpha blood, a stvpid human girl can't hurt me." My head snapped to Adrian who had stood up in front of the school to stop what was happening. "Nevertheless, humans need to know their place." With that the pressure on my arm increased as our principals hand pulled my sleeve up before a long claw punctured my skin. The searing pain shoting from the fresh wound had my eyes scrunched and my fist clenched, I bit the inside of my cheek hard instantly tasting blood, however no sound left my mouth. He continued to write, using my skin as a canvas and his claws as a marker, it went on forever, my vision blurred slightly at one point as I turned my head away. After minutes of torture, he was done and the pressure on my arm eased, instantly I snatched my arm away, hissing through my teeth at the pain. I was about to scurry off stage, when I was roughly grabbed yet again, my arm being held in the air by the principal while my feet were inches off the floor, blood dripped from the wound and the pattern he had made was on show for everyone to see. Loads of people gasped, even the wolves looked slightly horrified at what had happened. "This is what happens when a human decides to speak out. I can promise, anyone who so much as says one word about our way of life, will have the same punishment." My arm was starting to seriously ache from being held in the air for so long, and the lack of blood flow to my suspended arm was causing me pins and needles, still I refused to make a sound. I held the tears back and I bit my cheek harder causing more blood to fill my mouth. "That's enough Bradley!" Adrian growled, he was still stood up and looking at the scene in front of him. His eyes hard as he stared at the principal a low warning growl erupted from his chest which had the head teacher gulping, he quickly let go of my arm causing me to crash to the floor. A small cry left my mouth as I hit the hard floor. Immediately I scrambled away, my foot just missed the high step leading to the stage and I fell, waiting for the impact of the ground, but it never came. Two strong arms wrapped around me catching my weak body causing me to look up, my eyes widened as I noticed Adrian had caught my falling form. "This isn't part of the human punishment program!" Adrian growled causing me to tense in his grip, I pushed him away from me before fixing my uniform top. The room was deadly silent, taking in the scene in front of them, while I stole a glance at my forearm. Carved into my skin by his devastating claws were two words, words that would most definitely scar my body for life. 'Human scum' "Lessons must be learned, she received lashing merely two days ago, and clearly it had no effect on her." Another growl left Adrian's chest as he stepped on to the stage, I wasn't bothered though, you would think I'd be ashamed but I simply smiled slightly. I fixed my sleeve a little so it wouldn't rub on the fresh wound before speaking. "It doesn't matter," the whole room looked at me shocked by my attitude. "I would rather be labeled human scum, than have any resemblance to your kind. I'm proud of what I am, how many of you can say that?" After my amazing little speech, I walked right down the middle between the humans and lycans and out the door. No more compliance, I'm going to get away with as much as I can without getting into too much bother. There will come a day when the lycans power will fizzle out. When it does I'll be ready, I'll be waiting for the day we take our world back. As for the best part about my plan...

No one can stop me.

"Ouch, not so hard." I seethed as the school nurse cleaned my new wound with antiseptic. "If you had of just kept your mouth shut, this wouldn't have happened." I turned to my right looking out the window at the few clouds that were floating in the blue sky. "Like I said, I'm proud to be human, and now everyone knows what I am." I clenched my fist together as the nurse began wrapping a bandage around my forearm. It had been a good few hours since the incident in the hall, and I had been forced to come to the nurces office after I had tried to clean my wound by splashing it with water from the tap, it also refused to stop bleeding. "You are impossible. Can you please just try and stay out of trouble? For one day, that's all I ask." Our school nurse is a wolf, she's one of them. However she hates the way they treat us mere humans, she thinks we should all just live in peace with equal rights. Like that would ever happen. "All I've done is stay out of trouble, but you are just going to humiliate me anyway, so what's the actual point?" "The pack were discussing a public execution, Dylan. You need to walk on egg shells from now on, not just for you but for your family as well." No ones been publicly executed in over 4 months, I'm flattered they're considering it. They only execute people who they believe are the biggest problems to society. "Well then... I'm flattered." I chuckled, before looking at the patch job. 'Huh, not too shabby.' I quickly stood up from the human nursing station and pulled the sleeve of my shirt down covering the evidence of ever being hurt. "This is serious!" I just gave her a blank look before leaving the room. On the way out I heard her call back to me. "Please just think about it." I gave a clipped nod as I walked away wondering how I'm going to tell my mom about this. Later in the evening... "Dilly why you say that?" Freddie looked up at me with a mouth full of bread. "Don't speak with your mouthful!" My mom scolded him as a bashful blush made its way to his cheeks. "Sowwy mommy." His reply was muffled as he swallowed the last chunk of food. "I said it Freddie, because it's the truth. The wolf race are a pathetic excuse for..." my mom cut me off with an extremely stern look. "Dylan! They have ears everywhere, one more word out of you and it's your room." I scowled, my hatred for the Lycan kind growing stronger as each day passes. "What more can they do to me, lash me? Beat me? Brand me? They've ran out of options." I stated slamming my hands down, then severely regretting it as sharp pain shot though my wound. "What was that?" My head shot to regard my mothers worried expression. Her eyebrows were raised and her eyes were dull and judging as she looked at me. "Nothing, it was nothing." I quickly took my plate in my hand and began to walk to the kitchen. "I'm not really hungry, and I have homework to do!" My mom caught hold of my forearm causing me to drop my plate suddenly, I watched it slowly fall before shattering on the floor. I retracted my arm quickly and turned to Freddie. "Stay there and don't move until it's cleaned up ok sport?" He just nodded with wide eyes, I turned back to my mom and noticed her curious stare on my arm. Her grip shifted to the other side as she turned it around before pulling my sleeve up. The bandage was showing and a bit of blood was seeping though after the wound had been disturbed. "What the hel happened?" My moms eyes widened as she began to fumble with the bandage. Before she could unravel any of it I snatched my arm away. "I had an accident at school. No big." I began to gather the large pieces of the broken plate up ready to put them in the bin. "What did you do Dylan?" She looked at me with pure worry and only then did I realize what the wound must look like to someone who didn't know. "For gods sake! I didn't do it to myself! I got publicly punished at the assembly alright? It's no big deal." Her face dropped instantly and she stepped towards me, causing me to step backwards. "Mom, I'm ok. So back off will you." "What did you do? I've never known them to cut someone's arm as a punishment." Her shock and accusation was evident in her voice and I sighed heavily. "I spoke against the alphas son." I may have hit him too, but I wasn't going to divulge that part to her. "It's not one big cut, mom, it's a brand, 'human scum' carved onto my arm." "They've branded you now too?!" My eyes rolled at her hurt tone as I went to get the dustpan and brush. "You're so much like your father." A sigh left her mouth as she spoke, running a hand through her hair, while I quickly swept up the little pieces of the broken plate. "You've had a new uniform delivered. It's laid out on your bed. Dylan, Please just try and stay respectful in the future, I don't want my daughter to be completely mutilated. Although you're not far off." "Gee, Thanks." I then walked over to my little brother Freddy before blowing a kiss into his neck and hearing him giggle. "So sport, how's school going?" "It's ok." He shrugged before going back to coloring a dinosaur picture in. "Well that's good, stay out of trouble, ok little man?" Heading upstairs and into my room, my thoughts wandered to the permanent graffiti scar very slowly healing on my arm. Disgusting beasts. Think they own the world because they're faster, stronger and can shift. Pah. If you ask me they are not all that.

The second I walked into my room my mouth dropped open. On my bed was some grey pants laid out neatly, which wasn't the surprising part, no, what shocked me was the grey high neck no sleeved button down shirt, every single set of uniform had sleeves except this one. They've done this on purpose those, mutts. They want the world to see my arm and know what a disgusting creature I am. They want the world to know that I, Dylan Riley, am nothing more than 'human scum'.

During the last week, I've been horrible, in class I've been loud in voicing my views, I've insulted at least everyone to some degree, I didn't care about the consequences, and I certainly didn't think about them. I haven't seen Nick at all since he was claimed, and to make matters worse today was the royal visit. Oh yes, werewolves and mated humans alike were spending every waking minute preparing themselves to meet his royal majesty, king of the wolves. Unclaimed Humans however would rather stick pins in their eyes. "Dylan, get down now... you're going to be late." She was right, I was dawdling this morning, I really couldn't be bothered today, I gave myself one last look in the small mirror and sighed when my eyes met my newly uncovered brand. It had bad bruising around the letters, and was still extremely tender to touch, it was definitely healing now though. I made my way down the stairs and came face to face with my mother who was seeing to Freddie, she was helping my brother get his coat on when she turned to me. "You ready sport?" Freddie nodded his little head at me and smiled while I quickly slid my shoes on. "Just Remember, the alpha is bad enough, Dylan, please, please don't do anything to anger the king." My mother stopped us from walking out the door to tell me something she had been telling me continuously for the last couple of days, it was almost as if the entire human population of our district was expecting me to do something stvpid. "Try and have a good day." I rolled my eyes but nodded, even I know not to push the king, he could kil me in the hallway like it was nothing. In fact I plan on staying out of his way for the entirety of the day. "We will see you tonight mom." I stated before me and my brother began our walk to school, his little hand clutched my own tightly as we went. Usually Nick would be with us, as he lives next door, well he used to, now he's residing in the main pack house. I quickly dropped Freddie off at his school and watched him get the wolfsbane neutralizer before walking into him building giving me a small wave before he went in. With my new scar on complete show, and my figure being complimented by the skin tight shirt I was wearing, I sauntered down the street to school, I gave my name and year in and took the wolf's bane neutralizer injection with no problems at all. It was finally getting into school that the problem occurred. Walking through the halls I was met by many looks, some of pity some of disgust. You see every single non mated human in the school was wearing a long sleeved version of the uniform I was given. All the Wolves and mated couples were scattered around in fancy floor length dresses or tailored suits. As I turned the corner I noticed a couple, now this couple happened to catch my eye the most out of all of them because it consisted of Arya and Nick, eating each other's faces off. "What the hel!" Nicks head shot to me as his eyes widened. He too was dressed in a tailored suit, a navy blue tie hung on his neck to match Aryas dress. Why was this happening all the time? It's always my friends that get completely brain washed. I shook my head in disbelief before turning my back on him. I heard his fast footsteps behind me as I rounded the corner. "Dylan?!" He ran right in front of me, stopping me in my tracks, making me drop my bag off my shoulder and almost causing me to bump into him. "Let me just explain..." "Has she marked you?" I mean you could almost see it in his eyes, she had marked him, and knowing the way life goes he's probably even mated with her. "Actually... Don't even answer that." I aggressively picked my bag up off of the floor and stormed off down the hall. "Dylan, just listen to me, Erin was right, it's so hard to resist your soulmate, and Arya is actually ok once you get to know her." I just kept walking, he caught up to me walking beside me but it didn't matter, I completely ignored everything and everyone. 'I'm so not in the mood today' getting into class was good though, I said hello to Mr Foley and took my usual seat. Nick sighed then took his bag off ready to sit next to me, but I snapped before he had the chance. "Traitors and mated idiots sit on that side of the room." I didn't look him in the eye as I pointed to a seat right at the front of the classroom on the opposite side. His eyes widened as he turned his attention back to me. "You can't be serious Dylan." I gave him a blank look before grabbing my book out of my backpack, I placed it on the desk then began to write the date on the top line. "I've sat in this seat for as long as I can remember." I ignored him, his voice sounded sad and shocked. "Dylan? Wait! What is that?!" Before I could react Nick had grabbed hold of my branded arm and turned it to see the letters. "Oh my God! What happened?" I snatched my arm away from him and shrugged as I continued to write in my book before grabbing my water bottle out of my bag. "The principal happened, it was my punishment for speaking out against Adrian and Arya. I wear it with pride." He just held a complete look of disbelief. "You spoke out against them?" I shrugged, what did he think I'd do. "It's no secret that I despise this stvpid new world and the mutts that control it. You were my friend, I wasn't going to let them just take you without saying something, although that is exactly what you seem to have done. Enjoy the view from your new seat!" "Don't be like that, Dylan, I'm your best friend, I'm sorry about your arm, but..." my eyes rolled inside my head at my friends words. "Anything with the word 'but' in, isn't an apology, it's a rationalization." I took a drink of water from my bottle and kept my eyes facing forward, ignoring his every attempt to try and talk to me. "Dylan?.. Dylan?... Do you know what? Erin is right, if you push us all away you won't have any friends left." He huffed before walking over to the empty seat and sitting down, I could feel him glancing up at me every now and again but I didn't respond. "Good morning class, please settle down." He looked at me then at Nick and frowned, we've never sat apart, we were friends before the new world even began. I just shook my head telling him to forget it. "So... as you know the king will be arriving in a short while, but until then lessons will go on as normal." Its funny seeing teachers in the same uniform your wearing, mr Foley and his wife are the coolest. Human teachers and doctors only have slightly more respect than we do. Because of Mr Foley's status him and his wife have better access to food and drink, Mrs Foley is cool, sometimes she even makes sure mr Foley brings some in for me. Ya know, coz I'm their favorite student. It's not in a weird way, it's just they were friends of the family before the new wold took effect. Mr Foley and my dad were buddies from high school, so it goes without sayin really. "All the mated humans will be at the front of each years line again, after that you will all be placed in status, Nick, as your mated to Alpha Arya, you'll be at the front of your line. Dylan as you have been branded..." his voice trailed off as he looked at me. "Yeah yeah, I'll be at the back of the line behind everyone. I get it." I huffed, moving my sight towards the window once more. "I am sorry." I turned to face Mr Foley again, he looked genuinely upset and that look of pity wasn't something I wanted to see. I gave him a clipped nod then turned away again. "Anyway, on to the subject matter, 'Of Mice and Men, page 64, Nick why don't you start us off with the reading."

"Of course sir." Nick began reading the book but I switched off, today is going to be a long day. After almost an hour and a half of reading comprehension, the bell chimed signaling lunch. I shot up and out of the classroom before anyone could say anything. Today, I was avoiding drama like the plague.

I wandered the corridors straight to the lunch hall. All the people I would normally hang out with we're all mated so I grabbed my lunch quickly, and sat down at the end of the human table. Let me lay the lunch hall out for you. On one side of the room you have two long rows of tables, with simple benches that make it look like prison, on the other side of the room you have multiple round tables with fancy chairs. Yup you get it. The humans sit at the prison tables and the wolves and traitors sit on the fancy tables, they get fancy food, fancy drink and most importantly they get pudding. what I would give to have some pudding. "Dylan can we just talk?" Nick quickly took the spot next to me as he set his lunch tray down. I looked at his food which had been placed on a ceramic, circular white plate. God that looked good. I sighed knowing he was going to talk anyway. "Fine, you have two minutes." I used my fork to take a bit of pasta off his plate and shoved it into my mouth. God that was good. "After I left school, I was taken to the pack house with Arya, and I really got to know her. It took a few days for me to finally accept being with her, but ever since life has been ok, and the sax... well that's a whole other story." Eww, I didn't need that mental image in my head. "I'm glad your happy." I stated before deciding I had no appetite. His face held shock before he sighed in relief. "That means a lot Dylan, I mean you know that your opinion matters to me." I cut him off before he could say anything else. "I said I was glad your happy. I didn't say I approved of what you've done. You've basically turned into one of THEM, I can't ever forgive you for that." He looked hurt, but I couldn't care less about his feelings. He placed his hand gently on my arm and went to open his mouth when a growl sounded out. All heads whipped to where it came from, Arya was stood holding a glass of soda and a plate, she was looking right at me and Nick and I would totally be dead if looks could kil. Nick quickly retracted his hand, his whole face fell and you could see sorrow flood his irises. "You sit with me now, get away from that, that... scum!" Wow, Nick was such a lucky guy. NOT. "You heard her. Get away from me, go sit with your new friends. I'm happy for you, and I understand where your coming from, but don't come up to me again and pretend you didn't betray your own kind. Don't pretend you didn't betray me." I shoved a little bit of food into my mouth before standing up and walking out of the cafeteria, leaving my tray on the table. I was walking through the hallway to the classroom, you see I decided to spend lunch with Mr Foley in his room, when I happened to hear voices in the corridor. "Is it wise for her to actually be present when the king arrives? Surely she could be placed in the dungeons, it might actually teach her some respect?" My principal was speaking to the alpha of our district, huh, if I stayed and listened do you think they'd notice, maybe they could smell me?! "Everyone is to be present, if the Riley girl does one thing out of line she will be dealt with severely, child or not. That girl has been a blight to the district since day one, she's dangerous, if she puts one hair out of place I will personally break her into submission." Oh shet, they were talking about me specifically, and they mentioned the dungeon, that's not been used in months. Normally I would have listened in more but something about the entire situation didn't sit right with me, all of a sudden, I was on edge, and simply wasn't interested in the slightest in hearing how my misery was to be enhanced. I backed up slightly before turning around and bumping head first into one of the hottest man I had ever seen. I lost my balance immediately and fell straight on to the floor letting out a small grumble in the process. His eyebrows knitted together quickly and his breath hitched in his throat as he looked upon my fallen state and gasped. "Mate!" He whispered, his eyes fixated on mine. Now, I had seen and heard that many times to know what that means, I gasped before taking a step back. 'No, no, no, no, no. This can not be happening.' He growled slightly before stepping towards me. Oh Shet!

Hello Knitters! I would love to get your thoughts on a button band situation I have. I'm working on the Patons Must-have Cardigan, a cabled v-neck cardigan knit in pieces from bottom up, and instead of the 2x2 ribbing for the cuffs, button band, etc I did 1x1 ribbing and used a tubular cast on for the sleeves and body.
Now, I'm nearly to the point where I'll be doing the button band/collar. The pattern has you pick up and knit along the fronts and neck (like most cardigan patterns I've seen with a band knit perpendicularly to the sweater body). The obvious answer would be to do it as written (except with the 1x1 rib) and use a tubular bind off. However, I find my tubular bind off is a lot stiffer and not so beautifully stretchy as the tubular cast on. Would it be a bad idea to knit the button band separately (like from the outside edge in toward the sweater to get the tubular cast on at the edge) and attach it? I've seen vertically knit button bands worked separately and seamed onto a sweater, but I couldn't find anything with a perpendicular band (and really why would you in most cases when you can't just pick up those stitches and knit it?).
And then to decide how to attach the button band - I could pick up stitches along the sweater and do a three needle bind off, although runs the risk of being too tight or pick up stitches and graft the button band, though not sure how grafting ribbing to picked up stitches would look or just bind it off and sew it on, which frankly, I'd rather not do after modifying most of the pattern to avoid as much seaming as possible.
Or am I over-complicating this whole thing and should just do the button band the regular way and practice my tubular bind off until it's better?
Hopefully, this is an alright place to ask this and that all made sense. I don't have any irl knitters to bounce this off of, so I really appreciate your thoughts.

I have two friends who are unexpectedly going to have a baby this coming autumn! They are not in the best place financially and I thought a nice gesture would be to knit some things for the baby.
I haven’t been knitting for very long but would say I am on the intermediate side of beginner. I was wondering if anyone has any patterns they would recommend for knitting for new borns or older that are within my ability! Or just any advice on what new parents might need that they may not buy for them selves.
I was thinking blankets, cardigans, hats etc but I want to make sure it’s stuff they will need and not just knits for the sake of it!!
Thanks in advance :)

This is all of the writings of Lady Whistledown up to Season 3 Part 1.
Long Post
All rights go to Bridgerton, Netflix and Julia Quinn.
Season 1 S1.1 According to the much heralded poet Lord Byron: Of all bitches, dead or alive, a scribbling woman is the most canine. If that should be true, then this author would like to show you her teeth… My name is Lady Whistledown. You do not know me, and you never shall. But if you are currently reading these papers of record, then rest assured: I certainly know you… Perhaps one resides within the household of a certain Baron Featherington. Should one have a bracket for a face? Three misses. Foisted upon the marriage market this season like sorrowful sows by their tasteless, tactless dear mama – the luckless souls… Or perhaps one is more fortunate. Admirably proportioned, impressively refined? Then perhaps… One is a Bridgerton… A total of eight children in this most prolific of broods. The rather industrious viscountess and late viscount having produced four perfectly handsome sons and four perfectly beautiful daughters. Yes. Perfect, indeed. Unlike Lady Featherington, the widowed Lady Bridgerton has only one daughter on the market this year. Her eldest darling, the season’s forthcoming diamond, Miss Daphne Bridgerton… Grosvenor Square. The sixth of April, 1813. A frenzied sight outside the Bridgerton and Featherington homes on this most momentous of occasions… For today is the day London’s marriage-minded misses shall be presented to Her Majesty the Queen… A much anticipated day, when dreams shall finally be achieved. Hopes, fully realized… And courses of lives, changed. For the better. One hopes. One’s triumph at the palace today invariably signifies one’s success on the marriage mart tomorrow… Pray, it is the Queen who shall keep the fashionable world apprised of a lady’s single most valuable and desirable asset: her reputation. As such, any lady failing to secure the court’s glowing endorsement shall endure the consequences… And not just from Her Majesty…But from me. For I have at my disposal a most powerful weapon that even the Queen lacks. My pen. A weapon this author will wield most keenly. No matter who you are. Or what your name might be… The season’s opening ball at Danbury House is a most highly sought-after invitation indeed. For every darling debutante from Park Lane to Regent Street knows, if anyone can throw a crush of a party – it’s Lady Danbury. Tonight, the answers to our most urgent of questions will finally be revealed… Which bachelors might forsake their terribly rakish ways for the exquisite blisses of matrimony instead? Which ladies shall forever capture their hearts? Thereby securing their futures. And avoiding the grim, dismal condition known as a spinster. And shall one Lady Featherington finally resist bedecking her misses in the most unflattering of colors? Or will she have them appear as only the most undesirable pieces of overripe citrus fruit, once again… Dearest reader. This author finds herself compelled to share the most curious of news… It seems the purported diamond of 1813 requires a closer inspection… For this precious stone appears to possess a rather glaring imperfection. And an even rarer jewel – of only the most remarkable brilliance, fire and luster -has been unearthed. Her name, unknown to most, yet soon known to all, is Miss Marina Thompson… This author is left to wonder whether Her Majesty might reconsider the high praise she once afforded Miss Bridgerton…For we all must know what the Queen despises more than anything: being wrong. And the drawing room at Bridgerton House currently appears to be emptier than the muddled head of her dearest King George. Of course, it follows that Lady Featherington is to receive what she has always desired. The season’s true Incomparable, living under her own roof. She must be overjoyed. Ambitious mamas, rejoice! For the new Duke of Hastings continues to grace our fair city with his presence. And oh, what an impressive presence it is… It should be noted that the Duke has been overheard announcing to mamas everywhere that he has no plans of EVER marrying… This author wonders which brazen matchmaker shall rise to such a challenge? For this competition is certainly well underway… It has reached my ears that the betting books at White’s propose the most fascinating of pairings this season… If one is to trust these accounts, despite the fact they are all written by men, then Mister Colin Bridgerton shall be awarded the year’s grand prize when he sweeps Miss Thompson from her pretty little slippered feet… In other news, a most peculiar suitor for Miss Daphne Bridgerton has emerged… Though this miss cannot possibly believe that the town idiot will be able to reverse her rather dire circumstances, can she? Be it shame or slander. Seduction or smear… There is one thing that continues to humble even the most highly regarded members of our dear ton: A scandal. Tonight, a privileged selection of only the most fashionable guests will descend upon the most scandal prone grounds in all of London: Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens… Its shaded garden walls, such as those of the Dark Walk, have covered for the most notorious of trysts. This author wonders which persons of quality shall be discovered there tonight. Or better yet, how many? For those not in attendance at the Vauxhall celebration, you missed the most remarkable coup of the season… It appears Miss Daphne Bridgerton has captured the interest of the newly returned Duke of Hastings. Perhaps she is the season’s most precious gem – incomparable and unbreakable – after all. Of course, how Miss Bridgerton secured her newfound suitor is yet to be determined… Yet if anyone shall reveal the circumstances of this match, dear reader, it is I. Yours truly. Lady Whistledown. 1x02 There will forever be just two words that come to this author’s mind the morning after any good party, “shock” and “delight.” Well, dear reader, the scandalous accounts from last night’s soiree at Vauxhall are quite shocking and delightful indeed. Emerging, phoenix-like from the ashes of irrelevance, is one Miss Daphne Bridgerton. The illustrious debutante was seen dancing not once, but twice with the season’s most eligible and most uncatchable rake, the Duke of Hastings. This author has often thought the heart a most curious of instruments, heeding neither reason nor rank. For what possible explanation might Miss Bridgerton have for entertaining the suit of a mere baron when she seems to have secured a duke? Could the debutante’s mind not be the only thing amiss? Let it be known, dear reader, that if this bizarre behavior portends yet another scandal, then be sure that I shall uncover it, for there is nothing like an excursion into nature to lift the spirits and loosen the tongue. It has come to this author’s attention that the ton is abuzz with a most sordid tale. It is said one cannot judge a book by its cover. But in the case of the bumbling Baron Berbrooke, it seems his displeasing appearance is quite an apt metaphor for the state of affairs in his household. I would not be surprised if Lord Berbrooke were called away to the country on alleged business… Business which, perhaps, might involve sending some much overdue funds to one former maid and young boy, who we can only hope takes after his mother. 1x03 Dearest gentle reader, it is often said that those who marry in haste must repent at leisure, a sentiment that is clearly shared by Miss Daphne Bridgerton, who has apparently rejected not one, not two, but three proposals already this week. Some believe she is showing admirable forethought in her deliberations, but I would venture a different conjecture, that she, like this author, is still waiting on the only suitor of note. I have always thought that an appreciation of the arts is what lifts us beyond mere animals. It stirs the passions and moves the spirit, and, this author hopes, inspires more newsworthy pursuits. A new wing at Somerset House is to be opened today, where several attractions will be on display… like the lovely Miss Marina Thompson, newly recovered from her mysterious illness and expected to finally rejoin the season. Of course, there is today’s royal attraction as well, Prince Friedrich of Prussia. His Highness has come to our shores in want of a fine Fräulein. Could this be the reason a certain language tutor has been seen visiting Cowper House all week? These days, the modern young lady must display a miscellany of talents in her quest for a suitor. She must be a witty conversationalist, an accomplished musician, and an expert in the art of the swoon. For managing to faint with nary a petticoat out of place is a most coveted talent indeed. Of course, not everyone has fallen victim to the royal fever sweeping through London Town. One diamond in particular seems quite immune… making this author wonder if the crown has lost its luster. Could it be true? The season’s diamond even more precious and rare a stone than previously thought? For it now appears this treasure is set to join the likes of the queen’s ever-so-cherished crown jewels themselves. The Duke of Hastings, I hear, was left looking rather tongue-tied last night, as Miss Bridgerton seems to have finally grown tired of waiting for him to pose that all-important question. Or, perhaps, the young miss has simply traded up. Surprising? Quite. Unreasonable? Of course not. After all, why settle for a duke when one can have a prince? 1x04 In a town filled with ambitious mamas and fortune-hunting gentlemen, marrying above one’s station is an art form, indeed. But Miss Daphne Bridgerton’s advance from future duchess to possible princess is an achievement that even this jaded author must applaud. Though this author cannot dismiss the Duke of Hastings quite so soon. He may have let the diamond slip through his fingers for now, but I shall wager he is not a man to ever hide from a fight. As we all know, there is nothing this author loves more than a scandal, and tonight’s soiree promises more than its fair share, courtesy of the recently widowed Lady Trowbridge. Some may call her celebrations too provocative, and I would caution any young lady from getting caught up in the sensual nature of her fêtes. For one scandalous move between an unwed couple, a wayward touch, or heaven forbid, a kiss, would banish any young lady from society in a trail of ruin. 1x05 One may say modesty is a virtue, yet this author is hardly a virtuous woman. It is therefore my great pleasure to announce the news others questioned, but I never doubted. The diamond of the season has made her match, officially betrothed to the Duke of Hastings. 1x06 Dearest gentle reader, I must send felicitations to the new Duke and Duchess of Hastings. Congratulations and stamina as they embark on the most exhilarating time in a young couple’s life. I am, of course, talking of the honeymoon. Is there a more romantic notion? To retreat from society together… finally leaving watchful eyes behind. While this author, along with the rest of the ton, will certainly miss its most-remarked-upon couple back in London, perhaps we might find solace in the promise of the duke and duchess returning to us bearing a surprise. All is fair in love and war, but some battles leave no victor, only a trail of broken hearts that makes us wonder if the price we pay is ever worth the fight. The ones we love have the power to inflict the greatest scars. For what thing is more fragile… than the human heart? The bond between man and bride is private, sacred. But I must tell you, I have learned that a grave fraud is afoot. What is it? As if the Featheringtons did not have enough to be dealing with, Miss Marina Thompson is with child… and she has been from the very first day she arrived in our fair city. Desperate times may call for desperate measures, but I would wager many will think her actions beyond the pale. Perhaps she thought it her only option, or perhaps she knows no shame. But I ask you, can the ends ever justify such wretched means? 1x07 Miss Marina Thompson’s recent fall from grace continues to echo through every drawing room in town, days after it was revealed her engagement to Colin Bridgerton was nothing more than a sham. Of course, a lady’s disgrace does not merely tarnish her own name. Like the tars of the Thames, it also leaves a horrid smear on anyone nearby. While there is no parasol in the world strong enough to shelter a ruined woman, the fallen Miss Thompson can only hope she shall find a refuge… somewhere. Dearest reader, a question. Is anything more exhilarating than taking a gamble? For it is often the highest risk that carries the greatest reward. Yet, wager wrongly, and you might find yourself left with nothing but regret. Of course, one can never know for sure whether a wager will make a fortune or ruin it, unless one chooses a more secure pursuit. But as the season continues, the biggest gamblers have yet to truly show their hand… which leaves gossip in short supply in recent days. In fact, this author can think of no other event that merits a mention. It is worthy of note, however, that the Duke and Duchess of Hastings have yet to entertain callers together. Our newlyweds are no doubt still secluded in nuptial bliss. Who could fault them? And who could be surprised if their diligent efforts are rewarded with a new arrival within the year? 1x08 The fastest courtship upon record occurred during the markedly wet season of 1804, when Miss Mary Leopold secured a betrothal over a plate of sugared almonds and licorice in just four and a half minutes. Of course, Miss Leopold and her new husband would leave London mere hours after their wedding. Reason unknown. Of all that I have imparted to you, dear reader, there is but one bit of wisdom you must heed most. One can never know the truth of a marriage hiding behind closed doors. Beware indeed, blushing newlyweds. You know not the future that awaits. Will there be hardship…or indignity? Or will one’s future see the rarest accomplishment of all, a true love match? As for which of these fates await the eager matches of the season of 1813, only two things will tell… Time, and, as always, this author. The final ball of any season is distinguished by one of two things, anticipation… or dread. For, while those who have been successful in the year’s marriage market look forward to flaunting their perfect, joyous unions… others shudder at the thought of spending one last night before the discerning eyes of the ton. As they know, indeed, just what the evening signifies, that their time is officially up. And yet, to those who may still find themselves out of both choices and hope, fear not. For who knows when and where one’s fortunes may change? If there is to ever be a grander finish to a season than the one provided by the Duke and Duchess of Hastings this year, this author will need to feast upon her own words. For it was this couple’s memorable affair that brought another scandalous London season to a close. As many now leave the city behind for greener pastures, some endings seem more permanent than others. Of course, there are other endings that will offer new beginnings… Only… however uncertain those new beginnings might be. Perhaps I will come forward one day. Though, you must know, dear reader, the decision shall be left entirely up to me. Yours truly, Lady Whistledown
2x01 Dearest gentle reader. Did you miss me? As the members of our esteemed ton lazily sojourned in their rustic retreats, this author was doing but one thing. Honing my skills. Or should I say, hatching my plans? No, even better. I was sharpening my knives… for all of you. Questions abound as to this author’s identity and means. Seeking those answers shall prove fruitless, indeed. There is, of course, another unknown identity at present. Though, this one you will be able to unearth. I speak of the season’s diamond, wherever she may be. Your move, Your Majesty. There is nothing quite like the sweet-scented smell of success. But after taking in the scene from last night’s festivities, it is clear the season won’t be quite so fragrant for everyone. The Viscount Bridgerton’s own mama may have loudly declared her eldest son’s lofty intentions to marry, yet I cannot be the only one wondering if this former Capital-R-Rake is, indeed, ready to flourish. Perhaps the viscount, like the rest of us, is simply waiting for the queen to finally name her diamond. Or perhaps this author should take matters into her own hands. Though, of the many purportedly well-trained and bred hothouse flowers on display this year, this author must wonder if a more surprising choice might still be in store. Whichever darling miss receives such high esteem, let us hope there is a suitor available of only the sharpest wit, lest his dry musings leave a young lady wilting like a parched rose. Formed under pressure, desired by many, yet possessed only by a fortunate few, there is nothing on earth quite so envied as a diamond. Might our queen finally extinguish the fevered speculation and bestow the highest of honors to a most fortunate young lady tonight? With so many futures at risk, I do suspect this author is not the only one waiting with bated breath. Color, clarity, carat, cut. At long last, the queen has named her most precious stone. While this author finds Miss Edwina Sharma to be an exceptional young lady, it is about time I used these pages of record for something else. A shift. Is the entire practice of naming a diamond not… well, rather ridiculous? Should a woman not be valued for so much more than her dancing skills or her comportment? Should we not value a woman instead for her candor, her character, her true accomplishments? 2x02 Dearest reader. It has been said that competition is an opportunity for us to rise and stand ready before our greatest of challenges. Well, if what this author hears this morning is true, then a great challenge concerning this season’s diamond has been set forth, indeed. Any suitor wishing to gain an audience with Miss Edwina Sharma must first tame the rather prickly spinster of a beast otherwise known as her sister. Of course, the only competition that compels my attention is the game of courtship. So best of luck to this year’s players. Do try not to stumble on the starting line. There are two things that lurk within the dark and shadowy places of our fair city. Vermin and secrets. I shall leave it to you, dear reader, as to which do the most harm. One has to wonder what secrets the season’s diamond is holding near and dear to her heart. And who shall she choose to share them with? The Viscount Bridgerton, perhaps? At least the elder Sharma’s opinion on such a matter is certainly no secret at all. To be fair, one might call this author the biggest secret-sharer of all. For who else could possibly keep all of you honest? When even the most well-kept of secrets must eventually come to light. 2x03 We all know the great lengths a young lady will go in pursuit of a proposal. And apparently, she will travel great distances too. Lord Anthony Bridgerton appears to be inching ever so closer to selecting his viscountess, and to that end has invited our diamond to join him for an excursion at his ancestral home, Aubrey Hall. Country air indeed clears the mind and invigorates the body. Might this be the final gust that pushes the viscount over the precipice of a proposal? Of course, the luckless souls remaining in town will have to find new diversions in the absence of their most precious of stones. An artist must be free to follow their muse. But it appears the ton has fallen prey to the fickleness of fashion. For how else might one explain the tawdry, dare I say vulgar, gown sported lately by Miss Cressida Cowper? Mayfair’s newest modiste has one thing, and one thing only, going for her. She is new. Whereas Madame Delacroix might be old, but at least she is capable. Of course, not everyone can always get things so right. Though I suppose, for some, it may be simply too late to change course and undo any damage. 2x04 If the Ancient Greeks were members of the ton, they might have added to their Olympic pentathlon one additional event. The hosting of a country visit. This, of course, is the week of Lady Bridgerton’s annual Hearts and Flowers Ball, the year’s most coveted invitation in the country, and no event better designed to show the might and mettle of its host. Dearest gentle reader, while much occurred at the Bridgerton country visit, this author feels not all is fit to print. Especially when so much is already known by far too many members of the ton. But if you thought we would reach the end of this journey without this trusted author finding a truly delectable morsel of gossip, then you are sorely mistaken. While Prudence Featherington seems to have secured her match, it was not the only occurrence of note. Anthony Bridgerton is now betrothed to Miss Edwina Sharma. Victory, indeed. 2x05 The frenzy of competition. The thrilling delight of hazarding your all. I am referring not to the lure of London’s luxurious gaming halls but to a gamble with far higher stakes. Matrimony. For once that particular wager is placed, it cannot easily be undone. A fact which, I am sure, is met with both regret and sheer relief …and I shall sing between each one. Duty. More than laws or faith, I have often thought it the bond that holds our fragile society together. Duty to rank and title. Fidelity to one’s family name. It demands both utter obedience and total sacrifice. But what happens when such duty is in conflict with the heart’s true desire? Why, then, there is the potential for a considerable scandal, indeed. The only question is, will the parties in question heed my warning? Or is it already too late to turn back to duty and away from desire? 2x06 A march down the aisle may very well be the longest walk any young lady ever takes. It does not simply cover the length of the church, but rather, countless floors for dancing, and meandering paths for every afternoon promenade too. It is a wonder, then, that feet do not tire or, heaven forbid, trip under the scrutiny of all those attentive eyes keeping close watch, indeed. It is a distinctly human act to marry. Animals require no contracts or dowries. The hen and the rooster make no vows. Leave it to people to complicate matters with their ceremonies and their cakes. Is it not a wonder that anyone marries at all? It is not as if Miss Edwina could do any better than the viscount. Perhaps it is for that very reason she changed her mind. She knows she is not worthy of him. Or perhaps we might judge the viscount anew. Perhaps Miss Edwina discovered something the rest of us might wish to know of too. Indeed, some may call a wedding the ultimate act of faith. While others would venture that it is the ultimate act of fools. Eagerly awaiting two words. “I do.” Bride and groom declare intention alone, with no guarantee of happiness. Marriage amounts to little more than human ritual. We may not force the rooster or hen, yet we continue to collect eggs. Does that make us more complicated, or simply too stubborn to believe that we must orchestrate what nature has already ordained? 2x07 A jilted groom. A broken-hearted bride-to-be. A royal wedding in shambles. Sensational? Quite. But true? This author may traffic in chatter and speculation, dear reader, but misinformation? Never. Explanations of why Miss Edwina absconded from the altar may be greater in number than anyone could possibly fathom. But we must not forget, it was Her Majesty the Queen who placed the young miss on that special stage so that she could make her grand exit. Allow this author to hope… for Her Majesty’s sake, as well as both the Sharmas and Bridgertons, that an official explanation emerges swiftly, lest the ton are run away by their tawdry imaginings. What is it about betrayal that excites us so? The ton itself has certainly felt its peculiar kind of frenzy after the promise of the wedding to end all weddings was broken. Yet this author has it on very good authority that the viscount’s failed nuptials may not be the only betrayal our dear Bridgertons must manage at present. Should our lives be distilled down to the sum total of our choices, then Miss Eloise Bridgerton has certainly made a dangerous, perhaps ruinous one. For she’s apparently been associating, unchaperoned, with improper company. Political radicals, in fact. It might be that the young miss spent a great deal of time considering her decisions. Or, perhaps, they were made in haste. Whatever the case may be, we all must remember, as one makes one’s bed, so one must lie in it. 2x08 Gentle reader, you thought I was silenced, but you thought wrong. And if there is one thing you should know by now, it is that this author cannot keep quiet for long. Yours truly, Lady Whistledown.
Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story 1x01 Dearest gentle reader. This coldest time of year has become that much colder with the sad news of the death of the princess royal. The granddaughter of our dear King George the Third and Queen Charlotte died in childbirth, along with her baby. And while our hearts grieve for the loss of the princess royal… our heads grieve more for the future of the monarchy itself. For the Crown now has a crisis on its hands. A crisis one can only imagine that Queen Charlotte must find galling after ruling over the matchmaking efforts of the ton and the marriage mart with such an iron fist. This author and all of England can only hope that Queen Charlotte finally turns her matchmaking energies onto her own family. After all, her majesty has 13 children, and now, not a royal heir from any of them. At least, not a legitimate one. It causes one to wonder. Is the queen’s knowledge of how to make a good marriage nothing but talk? 1x02 Patience is not always a virtue. The passage of time does not always reap benefits, and perhaps good things do not always come to those who wait. However, there are some very special joys well worth waiting for. One wonders as England waits to see which of King George’s children will bring us closer to a royal heir to the throne if patience is a virtue or a burden for our dear Queen Charlotte. 1x03 Dearest gentle reader, children are the cherished hope of every marriage, but for a royal in need of an heir, children are more than a hope. They are a necessity. Most of the daughters of our own Queen Charlotte and King George are long on the shelf, gathering dust. So many spinsters. So little time. Surely in this season of giving, Her Majesty must be feeling the sting of being a have-not.

1x04

1x05 Dearest gentle reader. Much like a phoenix rising from the ashes, so too our queen rises from disaster. An army of eligible ladies have arrived at Her Majesty’s doorstep, hopeful for betrothals to the monarch’s sons. Royal weddings and babies cannot be far behind. However, if reports from the high galleries are to be believed, Her Majesty’s countenance lately evinces little pleasure. One wonders whether impending connubial bliss has shone a light on Her Majesty’s own isolation. The world’s doors open at the queen’s command. Every man and woman in the British Empire obeys the queen’s whim. We would go to battle to save her. But what matter? The one thing Her Majesty needs most cannot be conquered by any army. Loneliness is a battle even queens must fight for themselves. 1x06 Dearest gentle reader. As winter turns to spring, England wakes to welcome nature’s abundance. One can find gardens in bloom in the most interesting of places. Discoveries are everywhere. Mother Nature is sharing her secrets. Sadly, the royal house remains infertile ground. It seems as if a certain continued lack of fruitful bounty has left a despondent chill in the palace halls. This author has it on good authority that the queen’s growing displeasure was on full display at a recent family portrait sitting. One has to wonder, will Queen Charlotte’s relentless pursuit of a royal heir be the royal family’s undoing? Or can a mother’s love conquer all?
3x01 Dearest Gentle Reader, we have been apart for far too long. At last, London’s fashionable set has made its return. And so too has this author. As the season begins, the question on everyone’s mind is, of course, which newly minted debutante will shine the brightest? The crop this year appears to be rather dazzling. There is the exquisite Miss Malhotra, said to be quite a catch. Miss Stowell is thought to be a most accomplished young lady. The mild-mannered Miss Hartigan will certainly appeal to genteel suitors. Miss Kenworthy is a welcome entry, brimming with confidence and charisma. And then there is Miss Barragan, who certainly stands out in a crowd. And let us not forget, should we all need a little excitement, there is another Bridgerton making her debut this year. Debutantes aside, there is also the question of which gentleman will reveal himself as the prize of the season. For our young ladies will certainly need someone dashing at whom to set their caps. Whoever it is that makes the finest match this year, let us hope that their pairing brings some titillation. For, of the status quo, this author quickly grows weary. Dearest Gentle Reader, when the tide of change turns, it can be sudden, fierce, and deadly. Especially for the unprepared. It seems to this author that our bon ton is moving with the changing tide, to be sure. While others cling firmly to that which they already know. None more so than our queen, who has still yet to choose a diamond. This author wonders if her hesitancy is a symptom of fortitude or fear. If it is the latter, pride in past achievements will not benefit her, as our debutantes are ready to play this season. Your serve, Your Majesty. Dare I say, this author is ready to play as well. I do not fear change. I embrace it. And then there are some who take the embrace of change a step too far. And then there are some who take the embrace of change a step too far, as with Mr. Colin Bridgerton, who seems to have embraced a new personality entirely. But one must wonder, is this new character the real him, or simply a ploy for attention? And does Mr. Bridgerton even know? 3x02 Gentle Reader, it is said that fools rush to judge while the wise watch and wait. Years ago, Miss Henderson, once thought to be on the shelf, triumphed over many a deb to marry Earl Fraser. Miss Dunham had been doomed to spinsterhood until she married Baron Ely. And Miss Kathani Sharma, at the ripe age of six-and-twenty, still managed to capture the heart of none other than the Viscount Bridgerton. The truth is… that which some dismiss as common rock, time reveals to be precious stone. A fact the new Baron of Kent and his family are learning this very week. At other times, what appeared to be priceless, under pressure, shatters like glass. What this author knows to be true is that diamonds are not the only gems that sparkle. By the light of the moon, it is easy for one to mistake the night as a place of safety. Which is why, perhaps, both Featherington sisters snuck away early last night with their husbands. But one must never forget that, despite the cover of night, there are still eyes upon us all at all times. We know there is one young lady who most certainly wishes her plans had remained in the dark. Penelope Featherington, who was so certain that she would not find a husband on her own, that she had to enlist the help of Mr. Colin Bridgerton. And while we knew Miss Featherington’s marital prospects were slim at best, this recent scandal will certainly make any further hopes disappear. 3x03 Dearest Gentle Reader, humankind has accomplished extraordinary feats in its attempt to compete with nature. Built ships to travel the globe, castles nearly to the clouds, and now, great balloons to traverse the skies. But no matter how many accomplishments our debutantes have displayed for Queen Charlotte, it seems Her Majesty is interested in only one. And though other young ladies may scramble for Miss Francesca’s leftovers, they would be wise to remember the higher one flies, the further one has to fall. This author believes that all of man’s greatest inventions are nothing more than a distraction from what is most natural to us. Our instincts. The innate animal impulse that is inside even the most sophisticated of us. For when all is said and done… It seems Lord Debling’s instinct has led this man of nature to the most surprising pick of the season in Miss Penelope Featherington. Suffice it to say, this author is captivated. For in the battle between man and nature, it is quite clear that the battle is, in fact, between man… and himself.
3x04 Dearest Gentle Reader. A question. What is the primary force that guides us along our paths? Is it our minds… or our hearts? When heart and head are in conflict, every choice may feel like agony. One person in whom thought and feeling are united is Her Majesty Queen Charlotte. After their meeting at the Hawkins ball, it seems the queen’s sparkler, Miss Francesca Bridgerton, may indeed be poised to become the new Marquess Samadani. Of course, whatever maketh our collective hearts swell may yet make them break. The season is still early and oft has a mind of its own. It is said that the heart is forever making the head its fool. And when one chooses the heart over the head, often, all reason goes out of the window. But the body has a way, indeed, of knowing most what it needs. And this author is not one to deny the age-old wisdom of a beating heart.

Context: This is the sixty-eighth of many posts where I share the stories of my travels with those interested and for my future self to read back. This one in particular details my time exploring the Wild Coast of South Africa as well as my time in the Gauteng province.
197 is an odd number. Not just literally, but also figuratively speaking in the context of travel. You see, when I began this journey and decided on a number, I might have rushed to make a decision without putting much thought into the figure itself.
I don’t plan on diving into geopolitics or explaining why I chose that specific numerical value because I know, in the end, I’ll visit many more regions or unrecognised states merely out of interest, and the completion of the 197 goal will just end up as a catchy headline on articles that I’ll never comment on during my 15 minutes of fame.
Now, the more I travel, the more I realize how the answer to "How many countries are there?" will tend to depend on whose gun you’re staring down the barrel of...haha. Jokes aside, I’m curious to see if I, myself, can come to any sort of conclusion down the line…not that my opinion holds anymore or less value than the almost useless “United Nations” consensus.
The more I learn, the more I realise how little I truly know. My views have changed over time, and I’m certain that they’ll continue to do so. Breakaway regions and various cultures are all boxed within a set of forever-shifting lines that have changed throughout history and will never stop changing. Empires rise and fall, languages, once spoken by many, end up as nothing but indecipherable patterns. Cultures blend or adapt over time, and people move around the world in search of a new place to call home. To commit myself to the goal of visiting “every country” in the world is more of a logistics challenge to navigate a bureaucratic maze than anything else. It could also be seen as an ego contest or a collector's most ambitious objective. Yet, despite all that, I think what really drives me to travel is the ever-growing curiosity that comes along with learning more about not just the world around me but also myself. What are my limits? What do I enjoy? What kind of opinions are crafted through various experiences, and how will I change over time? What do I really want to dedicate myself to for the rest of my life? Am I capable of doing more than I think? Should I do more? Does it matter if I do? I guess I’ll find out as time goes on.
Anyway, I digress back to the original topic of today’s blog…picking back up where I left off on the bus from PE to Mthatha. After numerous stops in rundown cities and towns along the way, we hopped off at the gas station and boarded the minibus shuttle bound for Coffee Bay. As we neared the coast and veered off the main highway, the scenery became increasingly vibrant and green, while the condition of the roads deteriorated from pavement to dirt.
As the sun produced a warm glow, ever growing closer to the horizon, the sight of rolling hills speckled with colourful Xhosa rondavels sparked excitement among the three of us. Smiles spread across our faces as we gazed out the windows, eagerly anticipating what was to come.
Our first stop along the coastline was a solid hostel nestled near the banks of Coffee Bay. We spent three nights here, each day a different adventure. We took $5 surfing lessons, explored the nearby cliffside hills to watch the whales splashing in the distance and found various butcher shops for meat to braai for dinner at the firepit.
Setting out on a whim one morning, we found ourselves hitching a ride westward without any particular plan in mind. We spent almost the entirety of the day walking the various dirt paths around the neighbourhood and pausing every now and then for a chat with a local passing by. It was quiet, calm and slow moving. Peaceful, to say the least.
When ready to return, we lucked out again, catching a ride with a dump truck transporting gravel to a nearby site. Josie joined the driver in the cab, while James and I seized the opportunity to climb atop the bucket, surfing the mound of rocks as we bounced along the road.
That evening, after dinner, we played pool and cards, accompanied by another girl from Pretoria who joined our trio temporarily. It was an interesting moment when the four of us realized our small group had managed to form the four corners of the English speaking world.
Josie, James, and I were eager to see more of the Wild Coast but initially uncertain about the logistics or the availability of affordable accommodations. Much to our satisfaction, we stumbled upon a small flyer promoting a multi-day hike traversing various villages, rivers, and countless hills, starting from Mdumbi and concluding in Bulungula. En route, we'd revisit Coffee Bay before venturing on to the Lubanzi region.
At our first stop, we stayed at a backpackers' hostel for three nights. The weather wasn't the best, with only brief intervals of sunshine. In the evenings, when the power would cut out for hours on end, we would sit atop a hill and watch lightning storms tear across the ocean, illuminating the black abyss. This was usually followed by candle-lit cards with other travellers and then a movie.
One day, we even decided to take Xhosa language lessons with a lady from a nearby village. What makes Xhosa so unique compared to any other language I've heard are its distinctive click consonants, borrowed from Khoisan languages. There are three primary click sounds in Xhosa: dental clicks (like the English "tsk tsk"), lateral clicks (similar to the sound used to call a horse), and alveolar clicks (like a cork popping out of a bottle).
Along with the language lesson, she also took the time to answer our questions about the history, traditions and culture of her people, as well as the modern-day trends she observes among the younger generation. I found it particularly interesting to hear about the influence of technology and social media, something I might dive into deeper in a later blog.
I enjoyed the quiet atmosphere and laid-back lifestyle, but I still felt the urge to go for periodic runs and workouts, or at least engage in some kind of physical activity like swimming in the ocean.
Eventually, we set off on our first of three treks heading southwest. The Nguni Cattle seemed to lead the way, leisurely meandering along the beach as we followed the faintest of trails. The walk was quite easy, and we stopped periodically for a swim. At the mouth of the Mthatha River, there was a man with a rickety rowboat and mismatched oars who, for a dollar, offered to ferry us across.
Continuing our journey, we traversed up and down hills, following the winding goat trails whenever they emerged. Everything was green and lush, and as we climbed higher above the jagged coastline, the view was incredible. We could spot groups of dolphins and whales splashing in the distance. Along the way, we strolled by clusters of colourful rondavel homes with their laundry swaying in the breeze. Children greeted us with kind smiles, their curious eyes tracking our every move until we vanished from sight.
We crossed a much smaller river, hoisting the bags above our heads as we waded through. Towards the end, as the tide began to rise, we were forced to walk along the wet rocks, trying not to slip as we made our way around the final bend of a jagged edge to Coffee Bay. It definitely took a while, but it felt nice to finish, arriving just in time for dinner. Unfortunately, I spent the entire night on the toilet, every 30 minutes or so. I think it was the sketchy-looking apple that I decided to take the risk of eating. Lesson learned.
The following morning, we kicked off our journey again. Eventually, we made it to the iconic Hole-in-the-Wall rock formation where James seized the opportunity to surf through the gap. Next, we faced the challenge of crossing the river, with the high tide dictating that we swim across. Utilizing his surfboard as a makeshift raft for our belongings, we shuttled back and forth across the water.
As we neared the end, we followed the setting sun and watched as the whales waved in the distance. Finally, we arrived at the hostel in Lubanzi, a very unique wooden structure that almost resembled a jungle gym, surrounded by tent structures and hobbit-style rooms built into the landscape.
We spent one full day mainly focused on surfing, enjoying the peaceful scenery, and gathering meat for a fireplace braai later that evening. I couldn't help but notice that in the Transkei, especially in the more remote areas, it felt as though time didn’t exist – just night and day. Everything in between had no set schedule.
The weather was warm as we got ready for our last walk to Bulungula. It was a smooth stretch of trekking, with a nice breeze accompanying us up and down the rolling hills. A couple of river crossings went smoothly and finally, we had arrived at our final stop, checking into our own thatch-roofed rondavel to stay the night.
It took a few of those hectic taxi cab shuttle vans to get back to Coffee Bay, which was an adventure in itself, bumping and whipping around the dirt roads, blasting music. We made it in due time and had an early night. The following day, after a slow rise, I made my way to the nearby butcher shop, and the man offered to braai the meat for me inside a rusted shipping container with half a barrel balancing on top of two cinder blocks—cool. Some of the best steak I’ve ever had, massive pieces for about $7. Feeling great, I had one last meal with Josie and James. We said goodbye as they continued on, planning to take a bus from Mthatha to Durban, while I planned to head straight to Joburg with a flight from the small Mthatha airport.
Despite hardly using my camera or drone, I still can vividly picture every moment in the Transkei. The region's intriguing characters and breathtaking nature made it an unforgettable experience, and I enjoyed every step of the journey. However, I found myself eager to head to Johannesburg, spurred on by the prospect of an opportunity that had arisen with a marketing agency. I'll delve into the details of this opportunity at a later time.
After a quick domestic flight to Joburg, I was picked up by Brian, the grandfather of my friend back home. Arriving at their house, I was greeted with a warm welcome by his wife, Jos, who has sadly passed away since then. Despite being in and out of the hospital at the time, she was determined to see me and insisted on hosting me for my first night in the city.
We sat out in the backyard with their next-door neighbours, and it felt nice—like home and a much-needed break from travelling. We talked about my experiences in South Africa thus far and my recent adventures in the Transkei. I also enjoyed talking with Brian, an ex-pilot, about planes, travelling, and what South Africa was like in the past. He mentioned how being a pilot nowadays doesn’t hold as much prestige, which I agreed with; it's all computer-assisted now, and the recognition or respect for pilots seems to have diminished. He had some great stories.
Jos, despite her health, was the perfect host and made sure everything was ready for my stay, even putting out a small bowl of biltong just for me. I tried my best to help whenever possible, as I didn’t want to be a burden.
The next day, they gave me a small tour around the area before we had lunch at one of their favourite restaurants. The food and atmosphere were incredible, reminding me of summer back home. After saying my goodbyes and thank-yous, I took an Uber from the restaurant to the hostel downtown, where I’d be staying in the Parkhurst district.
Johannesburg, or Joburg, is the largest city in South Africa and one of the 50 largest urban areas in the world. It's a city that never seems to sleep, with the sprawling Soweto township and a history deeply intertwined with gold mining. I found it fascinating that Joburg is home to the largest hospital in Africa and is served by OR Tambo International, the busiest airport on the continent, and one I got to know quite well by the end of my time in Southern Africa.
Arriving at the quiet and affordable hostel, I greeted the host with "Nkosi" in Xhosa, meaning thank you, after he welcomed me in. He laughed and asked how I knew the word. As it turned out, he was Xhosa himself and was happy to hear I had enjoyed my time in the Transkei.
The next morning, I woke up early and went to the gym before heading to visit Mike, Jos, and Brian’s son, who owned an interesting Pmarketing agency and mentioned he might have an opportunity for me. I was excited to see the office, located in the incredibly posh Sandton region of the city. Meeting the team and talking with Mike about his journey was a great experience. He also mentioned a project they were working on that I might be able to help with on the video editing side. It was a story based in Accra, Ghana, about a boxing group in Jamestown and their partnership with a Danish company. I was thrilled, yet didn't expect to be paid much but was eager to contribute.
Later that evening, they sent over the footage and briefing for the project. I knew I could help improve the video significantly. Coincidentally, I had visited the exact place the video was about and had my own footage from the boxing gym! It was perfect. Then they sent the budget for my editing work, and I was blown away. The payment could cover a flight to Mozambique and all my expenses while I was there. Perhaps I didn’t need to take the long bus ride down after all.
Later that evening, I pulled the trigger and booked the last-minute flight a day before departure, just as a massive hailstorm hit out of nowhere! It was wild to see such a drastic change from a warm, sunny sunset to a loud, snowy hailstorm. Apparently, these freak storms are normal in Joburg, even after a 30-degree day.
The city turned out to be nicer than expected, obviously because of the limited areas I had explored thus far. Johannesburg boasts one of the world's largest manmade woodland areas. One notable feature was the iconic jacaranda trees, lining the streets with bright purple blossoms.
The following day, I made my way to Mike's office, where I dedicated the entire day to working on the Ghana video project. Using my footage and the best of theirs, I pieced together the video. It went very well, and the team was incredibly happy with the result. With the day winding down, I managed to squeeze in a quick gym session before gearing up for my early morning flight scheduled for the next day.
I had done plenty of thinking during the previous week, unsure which route to take for my adventure through Mozambique, Eswatini, and Lesotho, I decided to settle on a practical plan. Opting for a loop journey, I chose to leave the bulk of my belongings in Joburg, starting my travels by heading south east then west, with a plan to eventually circle back north east to the big city.
Several weeks earlier, I had already booked a flight from Joburg to Freetown, Sierra Leone, holding onto the dream of returning to spend a month in the country before Christmas. My goal was to contribute to the nation's rebranding efforts and shed light on what I had witnessed during my previous visit. Despite the distance, I remained in constant contact with my friends there, eager to support and build something meaningful together. However, as my departure date loomed closer, I began to feel the pressure of time constraints. I had to make a decision: would I embark on an ambitious journey through three other nations, or opt for a more simple trip to just Lesotho?
Now, with the editing opportunity from Mike and the content I had gathered from my experiences in the city and South Africa as a whole, I was ready to push my luck and take on the loop. Perhaps I was being a bit greedy, enticed by the prospect of increasing my country count, or maybe I was just eager for another adventure and opportunity to explore with a lighter load. Was I satisfied with what I had seen in South Africa? For the time being, I assured myself that I was. It was time for a new adventure.

Imagine you live on a farm, and you notice that sometimes you have really good years with lots of crops and money, and other times you have bad years with fewer crops and less money. Now, picture a farmer from a long time ago named Samuel Benner who noticed similar patterns, not just with farming, but with prices and the economy in general.

Benner's Magic Formula

Samuel Benner, a pig farmer, came up with a sort of "magic formula" in 1875. He believed that you could predict good and bad times in the economy by looking at patterns, like this:

1. Prosperity Pattern (Good Times): Benner noticed that every 16, 18, or 20 years, there would be really good times where prices and profits were high. It's like saying, "Every 16 years, things get really good, then 18 years later, and then 20 years after that."
2. Commodity Price Lows (Cheap Prices): For things like crops and goods, he found a pattern of low prices happening every 8, 9, or 10 years.
3. Recessions (Bad Times): He noticed that bad times or recessions (when the economy struggles) happened every 5, 6, or 7 years.

How People Used This Formula

People used Benner's patterns to make decisions about buying and selling stocks (parts of companies you can own). For example, Benner suggested selling stocks in certain years (like 1926, 1999, 2007, and 2019) just before big market crashes happened. These crashes were like sudden drops in the stock market, making things cheaper.

Modern Perspective

Even though Benner's patterns seemed to work sometimes, it's important to remember that predicting the future perfectly is very hard. Today's experts and big investors usually rely on a lot more information, like how companies are doing, what people are buying, and overall economic conditions, instead of just one formula.

A Quick Takeaway

In simple terms, Benner's observations about patterns in the economy were like noticing that summer comes after spring every year. It helped some people make smart decisions, but it's not a guaranteed way to predict the future. Always keep an eye on many different things when thinking about investments or the economy.
How do you incorporate charts into your fundamental and technical analysis of today's stock market?

Integrating Historical Patterns with Modern Analysis

Using historical patterns, like Samuel Benner's cycles, can provide additional context when conducting fundamental and technical analysis of today's stock market. Here’s how you might integrate these elements effectively:

1. Understanding Benner's Cycles

• Prosperity Pattern (16-18-20 years): Indicates long-term market cycles of growth.
• Commodity Price Lows (8-9-10 years): Highlights shorter-term cycles in commodity prices.
• Recessions (5-6-7 years): Suggests patterns in economic downturns.

2. Fundamental Analysis

Fundamental analysis involves evaluating a company's financial health, industry conditions, and overall economic factors. Here’s how Benner's cycles could add value:

• Economic Context: By understanding historical cycles, you can gauge where the economy might be within a long-term prosperity or recession cycle. For example, if Benner’s cycle suggests a recession is due, you might be more cautious in your stock selection, favoring companies with strong balance sheets.
• Commodity Price Influence: If Benner’s cycle indicates a period of low commodity prices, companies reliant on raw materials might benefit from lower input costs, making them more attractive investments.

3. Technical Analysis

Technical analysis focuses on price patterns, market trends, and trading signals. Integrating Benner's cycles can provide an additional layer of insight:

• Long-Term Trends: Benner's prosperity cycles can help identify potential long-term market peaks and troughs. If a peak is predicted, you might look for technical signals confirming an overbought market.
• Market Timing: Shorter-term commodity and recession cycles can help fine-tune entry and exit points. For example, if a commodity price low is expected, you might wait for technical confirmation of a bottom before investing in related stocks.

4. Practical Integration

1. Overlay Historical Patterns: Create charts that overlay Benner’s cycles with current market data. This visual can help identify where the market might be within these historical patterns.
2. Combine with Indicators: Use technical indicators (e.g., moving averages, RSI, MACD) to confirm signals suggested by Benner’s cycles. For instance, if a recession is predicted, look for technical signs of market weakness (e.g., declining moving averages).
3. Contextual Analysis: Use fundamental analysis to assess whether current economic conditions align with Benner’s predictions. If a prosperity phase is predicted but economic indicators are weak, be cautious.
4. Diversification and Risk Management: Even if historical patterns suggest a certain trend, maintain a diversified portfolio and employ risk management strategies to protect against unexpected market movements.

Example Analysis

Let’s consider a practical example of integrating these elements:

1. Historical Overlay: Suppose Benner's chart suggests a prosperity period should end soon. Overlay this with the S&P 500 to see if current market levels align with past peaks.
2. Technical Confirmation: Use technical analysis to check for overbought conditions. For example, if the RSI indicates the market is overbought and approaching a historical peak year, consider reducing exposure.
3. Fundamental Cross-Check: Evaluate economic indicators such as GDP growth, unemployment rates, and corporate earnings. If these are strong, it might suggest the market could still have room to grow despite historical patterns.

Conclusion

While Benner’s historical patterns can offer valuable insights, they should be used as part of a broader analysis framework. Combining these cycles with thorough fundamental and technical analysis provides a more robust approach to understanding and navigating today's stock market.
Using historical cycles as a guide can help in identifying potential turning points and making more informed investment decisions, but always cross-reference with current data and analysis for a well-rounded strategy.

While reaching for oversized sweaters, thick wool socks and fleece leggings is understandable in the throes of winter, it can be a hard habit to break when it's time to get dressed up. Choosing the right outfit for a winter date night can be extra challenging, but luckily you don't have to sacrifice style for warmth and comfort.
Factors to Consider
Before you pluck your most fashionable threads from the depths of your closet, you'll need to consider multiple factors: where you're going, what you'll be celebrating and what the weather is like. Here's where a little bit of planning ahead can go a long way.
Occasion
Are you going out with a group of friends, dressing to impress on a first date or planning some quality time with your significant other? Different occasions require different outfits.
Location
Whether you're headed to a lively bar crawl or attending an opening at a posh art gallery, you'll want to make sure your outfit captures the right vibe. Consider the dress code of the event as well as the location.
Weather
Check the forecast before you head out; you may not want to wear a skirt and tights if the night is especially nippy. Similarly, your favorite suede pumps might not be the most practical choice for making your way through wet flurries and slushy streets. If the temperature is milder and the sidewalks are clear, you can shed a layer or two and show off your sexy high-heel boots.
Styles to Consider
We asked Nordstrom stylist Rachel Boedecker (@thestyleeditco) for some general guidelines to follow, and she more than delivered.
Make a Statement
When dressing for the cold, your outer layer is just as important as what's underneath! It's the first and last thing people will notice as you arrive or depart. Rachel's tip: take your outerwear from drab to fab and bring your whole look together by incorporating a statement-making coat. To see Rachel's picks for statement outerwear, sign in here.
Go Beyond Cozy
Sometimes all you want to do when it's cold is cozy up in a supersoft sweater. Just because you have plans doesn't mean the sweater has to stay at home! Winter dressing is full of luxe textures beyond cozy sweaters. Rachel suggests mixing leather, suede, satin or even faux fur with your cozy knits to make them more interesting and add depth. To see Rachel's luxe texture picks, sign in here.
Winter Date Night Outfit Options
We've put together 15 date night outfits for your next evening out this winter. You can always reach for your winter closet essentials, but consider incorporating the options below to create fresh looks for all your romantic occasions.
Trench Coat
A slim-fitting trench coat is the perfect garment to wear on your way to a live show or theater performance. Leave it open for a casual look, add a punch of color with a pretty silk scarf or opt for a touch of class with a simple pair of gold hoops or chandelier earrings.
Blazer Dress & Tights
Got a wine tasting to attend or an invitation to the opening night of an art gallery? A sleek blazer dress is the perfect blend of sophisticated and sexy. Pair it with monochromatic, fishnet or herringbone tights for a polished, alluring look.
Turtleneck Sweater & Skirt with Tall Boots
A chic turtleneck sweater will keep you feeling cozy and looking sophisticated, whether you go for an oversized style or something more fitted with shoulder cutouts. Pair it with a skirt and knee-high boots for an artsy vibe, perfect for seeing a movie or checking out the latest museum exhibit.
Long-Sleeve Sweater-Dress with Belt
Keep it simple and effortlessly chic with a long-sleeve sweater-dress in your favorite color. Equal parts comfortable and flattering, this option doesn't force you to choose function over style. Pair it with a belt to show off your figure and finish with a few delicate gold necklaces.
White Top & Jeans
Going on a more casual date? Whether you're grabbing coffee or going on an evening stroll through the park, you can't go wrong with a well-fitting pair of blue jeans and a crisp white top.
Blouse & Faux-Leather Pants
If you're meeting for drinks at the newest cocktail bar, faux-leather pants are the way to go. They offer the chance to incorporate texture into your outfit while adding an edge to an otherwise demure ensemble. Pair them with a feminine blouse and a pair of heels.
Blazer & Boyfriend Jeans
Pairing a blazer with boyfriend jeans will give you a polished, fashion-forward look that's still comfortable enough for whatever activity is on the agenda. May we suggest a paint-and-sip night or an evening of candle making? You'll get bonus points for originality, while your outfit certainly won't go unnoticed by your date.
Maxi Dress & Knee-High Boots
If you're going on a group date, stay cozy and comfortable in a soft, figure-hugging maxi dress. Wear it with knee-high boots and add some metal bangles, statement earrings or a long necklace.
Jumpsuit & Heels
A modern jumpsuit and heels are perfect for a bar crawl or house party. This is the time to break out the statement-making sequins—but if you're not ready to be the center of attention, choose a more subdued and streamlined cut that elongates your legs.
Monochromatic Look with a Pop of Color
Break up a tonal outfit with a long coat in a beautiful color. It's the perfect low-effort look for an outdoor date, whether you're admiring holiday lights or strolling hand in hand through a park.
Short Dress & Tights
You can wear almost any dress in the winter if you've got the right tights. Whether you're planning a trip to the mall or doing dinner and a movie, consider a comfortable short- or long-sleeve dress with the tights of your choice.
Midi Dress & Jacket
Even a classic everyday style like a midi dress can turn heads if you pair it with the right jacket and chic jewelry. This cozy, effortless look is ideal for a romantic evening out.
Long-Sleeve Top & Slipdress
Planning a casual game night but still want to make an effort? Wear a long-sleeve top underneath a pretty slipdress to show off your silhouette.
Leather Dress
Looking for something sleek and edgy that also complements your curves? A leather dress is just the thing for a rock concert or dinner date.
Cardigan & Slipdress
If you live in an area with mild winter weather, break out your favorite slipdress—but pair it with a cardigan to stay warm. This laid-back look is perfect for grabbing a casual dinner or perusing novels at an indie bookstore.
Figuring out how to dress up when it's cold out can often feel challenging. But the good news is that you've got lots of options for a comfortable, confident winter date night look, whether you prefer a low-key vibe or want to make a statement.

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Hello lovely knitters! I’m knitting a baby cardigan at the moment and will obviously need to make it up at some point. Is mattress stitch the best stitch for this and if it is or you have any better recommendations, please can you link me or point me to a super basic tutorial because making up is where I fall apart.
Unhelpfully, the pattern I’m using just says to sew it up neatly with no recommendations and the last time I tried mattress stitch is was a literal mess which was 100% a me issue
Thank you so so much ❤️

Oswald Spengler

29 May 1880 – 08 May 1936
Part of a Series on the Philosophy of History
Oswald Spengler and the Incommensurability of Civilizations
Wednesday 29 May 2024 is the 144th anniversary of the birth of Oswald Spengler (29 May 1880 – 08 May 1936), who was born in Blankenburg, Germany, on this date in 1880. It is also the 571st anniversary of the fall of Constantinople to the Turks, which was on 29 May 1453. Spengler was born on the 427th anniversary of the fall of Constantinople. There is a kind of poetic appropriateness to Spengler being born on the same day as the end of the last trace of an ancient civilization, since Spengler was to go on to write about the decline of Western civilization.
In The Decline of the West (Der Untergang des Abendlandes)—the first volume was published in 1918 and the second volume in 1922—Byzantium does not play a large role, but in the second volume we find this interesting observation:

“Here layer after layer has to be carefully separated. In 326 Constantine, rebuilding on the ruins of the great city destroyed by Septimus Severus, created a Late Classical cosmopolis of the first rank, into which presently streamed hoary Apollinism from the West and youthful Magism from the East. And long afterwards again, in 1096, it is a Late Magian cosmopolis, confronted in its last autumn days with spring in the shape of Godfrey of Bouillon’s crusaders, whom that clever royal lady Anna Comnena portrays with contempt. As the easternmost of the Classical West, this city bewitched the Goths; then, a millennium later, as the northernmost of the Arabian world, it enchanted the Russians. And the amazing Vasili Blazheny in Moscow (1554), the herald of the Russian pre-Culture, stands ‘between styles,’ just as, two thousand years before, Solomon’s Temple had stood between Babylon the Cosmopolis and early Christianity.”

For Spengler, Byzantium hovers between what he calls the Apollonian and the Magian, that is to say between the ancient West and the east. Throughout the book, Spengler’s interest is in an exposition of three fundamentally different outlooks on life, the Apollonian, the Magian, and the Faustian. The Apollonian is essentially that of classical antiquity; the Magian is Persian and Arabic civilization; the Faustian is modern Western civilization. Many other outlooks on life and many other civilizations are mentioned, but these three are at the center of Spengler’s account of history.
Given this way of laying things out, there is a fundamental difference between ancient and contemporary Western civilization. Since Spengler cleaves Western civilization in two, it counts as two in his catalog of civilizations. Spengler is often said to distinguish a discrete number of civilizations, or rather high cultures that decline into civilizations. Fennelly’s book on Spengler, Twilight of the Evening Lands: Oswald Spengler—A Half Century Later, lays it out like this:

“Spengler presents the story of eight separate High Cultures of the human race, no one of which is considered more important than any of the others. These eight are: the Babylonian, the Indian, the Chinese, the Egyptian, the Classical (the Culture of Greece and Rome), the Arabian (also called the Magian by Spengler), the West European (or Faustian) Culture, and finally the Mayan-Aztec Culture of Mexico.” (Fennelly, p. 30)

Spengler doesn’t really reel off a list of civilizations in any kind of explicit way. Spengler is the antithesis of a schematic writer. That’s not how he presents his account to the reader. Spengler’s exposition is dense, detailed, and sometimes repetitious—what anthropologists would call a “thick description.” It wouldn’t be too far off to say that the whole the The Decline of the West is a thick description of Apollonian, Magian, and Faustian civilizations and the peoples who built these civilizations.
Because Spengler’s exposition is dense and difficult to understand, he has attracted not only admirers, but also expositors. Farrenkopf’s book about Spengler, Prophet of Decline: Spengler on World History and Politics, locates Spengler within the traditions of positivism and historicism:

“Spengler denied the capacity of the historical philosopher to derive scientific laws in imitation of the natural scientist. ‘Real history is heavy with destiny, but free of laws.’ However, his daring project to uncover the master pattern of world history certainly bears some resemblance to the enterprise of historical positivists to discover historical laws. While German historicism was essentially idiographic in orientation, Spengler, his own protests to the contrary, with his methodical systematization and patternization of history, was largely nomothetic in approach, as were positivist historians. His aspiration to predictive powers also certainly places him in proximity to the positivist tradition.” (Farrenkopf, p. 84)

When we think too much in terms of labels we tend to tie ourselves into knots, and to little or no purpose. Farrenkopf’s exposition of Spengler is weakened in this way by his reliance on familiar categories. For example, Farrenkopf claims that Spengler belongs among the positivists. Were there positivists who sought to discover historical laws? Yes, there were. Carl Hempel came from the tradition of logical empiricism and he formulated the covering law model of historical explanation. But there are good reasons that we do not associate this school of thought with the kind of substantive philosophy of history that Spengler represents.
Otto Neurath, who was a leader among the logical positivists, one of the Vienna Circle, and an editor of the International Encyclopedia of Unified Sciences, wrote an entire book against Spengler. In Anti-Spengler, Neurath wrote:

“It is not the individual wrong results, the wrong facts, the wrong proofs, that make Spengler’s book so dangerous, but above all his method of conducting proofs, and his reflections on proof as such. Against this one must defend oneself. Anyone who wants to shape a happier future with hope and striving should know that none of Spengler’s ‘proofs’ is enough to prevent him; and whoever wishes to come to terms with the idea of ‘decline’ should know that he does so on the basis of a resolution, and not a proof!”

This is what one positivist himself had to say, in part, about Spengler, but it should suffice to read one paragraph out of Spengler to be clear that he is not any kind of positivist. Neurath was, after all, the epitome of a schematic intellect, which was why he cooked up the idea of the International Encyclopedia of Unified Sciences and his graphical symbol system called ISOTYPE, which is familiar to us today on traffic signs. It would be difficult to find two men more temperamentally divergent than Spengler and Neurath. Spengler did not see himself as a positivist, and the positivists did not count him as one of their own.
Farrenkopf at one point appeals to Iggers’ book on historicism, so I looked to see what Iggers had to say about Spengler, and Iggers wrote this:

“…the path from the classical idea of progress to Spengler’s conception of doom is not as great as it might appear. There is a degree of continuity in the very different analyses of the dominant trends of history and of the character of the age by thinkers as diverse as Condorcet, J. S. Mill, Weber, and Spengler. All saw the irresistible scientification and technicalization of life and thought. Only rationality and Enlightenment, which for Condorcet had been absolutely positive factors in the liberation of man, now increasingly appeared as a threat to human values. For Spengler they became the very antithesis to life and spirit: the ‘heroic’ qualities of the knight and the priest replaced the humanistic and humanitarian values of the West. To Troeltsch the Decline of the West seemed an invitation to barbarism and itself an ‘active contribution to the decline of the West.’ Nevertheless, Troeltsch’s cumbersome essays were read by few. Spengler’s book, however, became a Bible, and a source of inspiration for tens of thousands.”

Iggers’ discussion of historicism is among the best to be found, but he doesn’t especially tie Spengler to historicism. However, here the label is somewhat justified if we understand by historicism the taking of each age on its own terms. This is most definitely central to Spengler’s method. But most labels don’t work well with Spengler.
The nomothetic and idiographic labels that Farrenkopf uses don’t work well with Spengler. The linear and cyclical history labels also don’t work well with Spengler. It’s better to set aside familiar labels and any attempt at a schematization when reading Spengler, and try to enter into the labels that Spengler himself furnishes, as with his Apollonian, Magian, and Faustian civilizations.
More than most philosophers of history, Spengler belongs to no philosophical school, except the school he built for himself. In a letter to Georg Misch Spengler wrote,

“I am not the product of any school of philosophy, rather these ideas have somehow condensed from mathematics, history, painting and literature into a metaphysical whole.”

Being the product of no extant school of thought, he didn’t have to please anyone except himself. And like Toynbee’s A Study of History, The Decline of the West was not really aimed at academic philosophers of history, but it is, at the same time, a demanding work that does not hesitate to delve into metaphysical questions. In a letter to Albert Erich Brinkman, Spengler wrote of his recently published book, a copy of which he sent to Brinkman:

“Although the book is concerned with the philosophy of history in general, and is therefore basically physical abstract and even metaphysical, yet as the result of a new method and the posing of the problems, it is always in close connection with the most concrete facts, and has dealt specially with Art in the details of its form and development more thoroughly than hitherto has been usual or possible. It is my conviction that in this an important new turning has been taken…”

On the opening page of The Decline of the West (Der Untergang des Abendlandes), Spengler describes his project with admirable clarity, and does so by asking questions:

“Is there a logic of history? Is there, beyond all the casual and incalculable elements of the separate events, something that we may call a metaphysical structure of historic humanity, something that is essentially independent of the outward forms social, spiritual and political which we see so clearly? Are not these actualities indeed secondary or derived from that something? Does world-history present to the seeing eye certain grand traits, again and again, with sufficient constancy to justify certain conclusions? And if so, what are the limits to which reasoning from such premisses may be pushed?”

Spengler embraced the philosophical and metaphysical dimension of his work, contrary to the rising positivism of era, but he was not giving an exposition of a particular philosophical doctrine or school.
Spengler was not himself an academic, though he worked as a teacher until he received a small inheritance, upon which he lived modestly for the rest of his life. He was an outsider, and he remains an outsider even today. There is no article on Spengler in either the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy of the Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy. I think Spengler’s being an outsider had something to do with the success of his book.
The social sciences in his time were increasingly coming under the influence of Franz Boas’ cultural relativism, which decisively rejected the earlier cultural evolutionism of Edward Burnett Tylor, Lewis H. Morgan, and Marx, which was becoming eclipsed in academia as a result of Boas’ influence. Spengler, working in near isolation, produced a philosophy of history that employed some familiar ideas of cultural evolutionism just as this space was being abandoned by others, so that the book fell on the fertile ground of those who find cultural evolutionism to an intuitive way of looking at history. Of course, cultural evolutionism is another label, and it is an awkward label for what Spengler was doing. There is another side of Spengler’s thought, such as the incommensurability of civilizations, which is closer to Boas’ cultural relativism, and that is a reason to avoid these familiar categories in describing Spengler’s project.
Whether or not I am right about this, Boas’ student Ruth Benedict nevertheless discussed Spengler in her influential study Patterns of Culture:

“The confused impression which is given by Spengler’s volumes is due only partially to the manner of presentation. To an even greater degree it is the consequence of the unresolved complexities of the civilizations with which he deals. Western civilizations, with their historical diversity, their stratificaton into occupations and classes, their incomparable richness of detail, are not yet well enough understood to be summarized under a couple of catchwords. Outside of certain very restricted intellectual and artistic circles, Faustian man, if he occurs, does not have his own way with our civilization. There are the strong men of action and the Babbitts as well as the Faustians, and no ethnologically satisfactory picture of modern civilization can ignore such constantly recurring types. It is quite as convincing to characterize our cultural type as thoroughly extrovert, running about in endless mundane activity, inventing, governing, and as Edward Carpenter says, ‘endlessly catching its trains,’ as it is to characterize it as Faustian, with a longing for the infinite.”

Benedict discusses Spengler for several pages. By the time she published Patterns of Culture in 1934 the Spengler wave had already crested, but he had become so widely discussed that it was more-or-less obligatory to mention Spengler in relation to the problems of civilization, even if only to dismiss him. Note that Benedict writes of the “confused impression” that Spengler’s book leaves. It has become a kind of pro forma obligation not only to mention Spengler, but also to portray his work as confused, or overly complex, or “turgid,” and not really meant to be understood.
We find a similar dismissal of Spengler in Henri Frankfort’s The Birth of Civilization in the Near East, which is a fascinating mixture of accuracy and invective:

“Oswald Spengler’s Decline of the West was first published in 1917 and bears the sub-title, Outline of a Morphology of World History. This indicates that the aspect of form (as we have called it) is fully considered in his work. In this resides, as a matter of fact, the element of lasting worth of his sensational, arrogant, and pompous volumes. They were written as a reaction against the prevalent view of history which was prejudiced in two respects: it considered world history exclusively from the western standpoint; and it presumed, with evolutionary optimism, that history exemplified the progress of humanity. For Spengler the word ‘humanity’ is merely an empty phrase. The great civilizations are unconnected. They are self-contained organisms of so individual a nature that people who belong to one cannot understand the achievements and modes of thought of another. He maintains that not even in science does knowledge show accumulations transcending the limits of one civilization.”

This is largely on point, both in terms of where it agrees with his work, and as an accurate summary. Benedict, too, is often on point with Spengler. She is right that the complexities of the civilizations that Spengler discussed pose limitations upon what can coherently be said of them, but Spengler responds by formulating a complex account that seeks to do them justice. This is what I earlier called a “thick description,” and my guess is that Benedict, as an anthropologist, was drawn into Spengler by this aspect of his work.
I said above that Spengler’s account employs many familiar ideas of cultural evolutionism. Here is now Benedict expresses these ideas in Spengler’s work:

“…these cultural configurations have, like any organism, a span of life they cannot overpass. This thesis of the doom of civilizations is argued on the basis of the shift of cultural centres in Western civilization and the periodicity of high cultural achievement. He buttresses this description with the analogy, which can never be more than an analogy, with the birth- and death-cycle of living organisms. Every civilization, he believes, has its lusty youth, its strong manhood, and its disintegrating senescence.”

These cultural evolutionism themes are clearly present in Spengler, but, as I said, there are elements in Spengler that could be assimilated to the cultural relativist model, insofar as Spengler characterizes each civilization in strongly idiographic terms, such that civilizations are essentially incommensurable, which is the point that Frankfort emphasizes. Civilizations rise up out of a population, pass through their stages, and then recede again, but each such episode is unique, even if the stages of development are repeated in each and every civilization. In the following paragraph from Spengler we can see themes of cultural relativism and cultural evolutionism entwined together:

“‘Mankind,’ however, has no aim, no idea, no plan, any more than the family of butterflies or orchids. ‘Mankind’ is a zoological expression, or an empty word. But conjure away the phantom, break the magic circle, and at once there emerges an astonishing wealth of actual forms the Living with all its immense fullness, depth and movement hitherto veiled by a catchword, a dryasdust scheme, and a set of personal ‘ideals.’ I see, in place of that empty figment of one linear history which can only be kept up by shutting one’s eyes to the overwhelming multitude of the facts, the drama of a number of mighty Cultures, each springing with primitive strength from the soil of a mother region to which it remains firmly bound throughout its whole life-cycle, each stamping its material, its mankind, in its own image; each having its own idea, its own passions, its own life, will, and feeling, its own death Here indeed are colours, lights, movements, that no intellectual eye has yet discovered. Here the Cultures, peoples, languages, truths, gods, landscapes bloom and age as the oaks and the stone-pines, the blossoms, twigs and leaves but there is no ageing ‘Mankind.’ Each Culture has its own new possibilities of self-expression which arise, ripen, decay, and never return. There is not one sculpture, one painting, one mathematics, one physics, but many, each in its deepest essence different from the others, each limited in duration and self-contained, just as each species of plant has its peculiar blossom or fruit, its special type of growth and decline. These cultures, sublimated life-essences, grow with the same superb aimlessness as the flowers of the field. They belong, like the plants and the animals, to the living Nature of Goethe, and not to the dead Nature of Newton. I see world-history as a picture of endless formations and transformations, of the marvelous waxing and waning of organic forms. The professional historian, on the contrary, sees it as a sort of tapeworm industriously adding on to itself one epoch after another.”

Unlike Hegel, there is in Spengler no development of Absolute Spirit as it passes through stages of development embodied in different civilizations. There isn’t even any cumulative scientific knowledge or technological expertise. For Spengler, all the civilizations are the same in the sense that each is unique; each develops according to its own internal principles, but none contributes to any overall development in history. History on the whole has no direction, it does not exhibit progress, and for the same reason it does not consist of any overall cycle, notwithstanding the frequent attribution to Spengler of a cyclical philosophy of history. Neither it is linear.
Not only is each culture unique, but each has its own unique science and mathematics—a claim that is often implicit in others, but rarely argued explicitly. There is some similarity here with Danilevsky, who argues for a few familiar “cultural-historical types” rather than Spengler’s unfinished and unaging Mankind, which does not seem to be limited by the number of Danilevsky’s cultural-historical types. Danilevsky also allows that different cultures can have different sciences, but he did not insist that all must have distinct sciences, all but incommensurable with the sciences of other societies.
For Spengler, philosophy, like science, is the expression of a culture:

“There is no such thing as Philosophy ‘in itself,’ Every Culture has its own philosophy, which is a part of its total symbolic expression and forms with its posing of problems and methods of thought an intellectual ornamentation that is closely related to that of architecture and the arts of form. From the high and distant standpoint it matters very little what ‘truths’ thinkers have managed to formulate in words within their respective schools, for, here as in every great art, it is the schools, conventions and repertory of forms that are the basic elements. Infinitely more important than the answers are the questions the choice of them, the inner form of them. For it is the particular way in which a macrocosm presents itself to the understanding man of a particular Culture that determines a priori the whole necessity of asking them, and the way in which they are asked.”

And so with every aspect of human life and experience. One might ask how Spengler can formulate a theory that applies to a multiplicity of cultures when every culture is unique, philosophically and scientifically distinct from every other culture. This is a problem for all relativisms, and it is a problem for Spengler if we try to translate Spengler into a schematic doctrine of civilization. But that’s not how Spengler worked, and not how Spengler thought. We have to take Spengler at his own terms, as though his is one of those culturally-bound philosophies that is an intellectual ornamentation that is closely related to architecture and the arts of form. Spengler gives us an architectonic of civilization, and it is a vision particular to Spengler, if not peculiar to Spengler.
Many writers have had many things to say about Spengler, which is one reason I have emphasized the need to avoid labels. Many say his history is cyclical, while some say it is linear; some say Spengler’s method is nomothetic, others that it is idiographic; some say his book is unscientific, and others say that it is wrong because it tries to be scientific. The Decline of the West is like the Quito doubloon nailed to the mast of the Pequod in Moby Dick. Melville has Captain Ahab pause and reflect on the coin:

“…this round gold is but the image of the rounder globe, which, like a magician’s glass, to each and every man in turn but mirrors back his own mysterious self.”

Spengler’s The Decline of the West mirrors back to every man his own mysterious self. The book itself is mysterious. It not only avoids summary and schematism, it resists any attempt at summary and schematism. In this way, Spengler’s book is true to the cultures and civilizations he studied and believed to be unique, incommensurable, and irreducible to any other. In this respect it also resembles ibn Khaldun’s The Maqqadimmah, which is difficult to extricate from its historical, social, and cultural context, being a unique record of its time while at the same time a timeless work of scholarship.

Video Presentation

https://youtu.be/Cj6MQ-MSgZU
https://www.instagram.com/p/C7kln4ENH2k/
https://odysee.com/@Geopolicraticus:7/oswald-spengler-and-the:2

Podcast Edition

https://spotifyanchor-web.app.link/e/Z255Lfhq0Jb
https://music.amazon.com/podcasts/a31b8276-53cd-4723-b6ad-a39c8faa4572/episodes/7e47914f-674d-423b-8bf5-d0d2797cb037/today-in-philosophy-of-history-oswald-spengler-and-the-incommensurability-of-civilizations
https://www.iheart.com/podcast/269-today-in-philosophy-of-his-146507578/episode/oswald-spengler-and-the-incommensurability-of-180930078/
​

Rider-Waite-Smith Tarot: - Origin: Created by A.E. Waite and illustrated by Pamela Colman Smith in 1909, it's one of the most popular and influential tarot decks. - Key Features: Emphasizes symbolism and intuitive interpretation. The deck incorporates detailed illustrations in both the Major and Minor Arcana, making it accessible for beginners. - Major Arcana: The Rider-Waite-Smith Major Arcana features traditional archetypes with added symbolism, such as the Fool's journey and the scenic depictions of the cards. - Minor Arcana: The Minor Arcana cards display scenes that convey the card's meaning, contributing to a narrative structure within the suits.
Crowley's Thoth Tarot: - Origin: Developed by Aleister Crowley and illustrated by Lady Frieda Harris in the 1940s, reflecting Crowley's esoteric and mystical teachings. - Key Features: Emphasizes occult symbolism and the incorporation of Kabbalistic, astrological, and alchemical influences. Known for its detailed and intricate artwork. - Major Arcana: Thoth Major Arcana cards incorporate Egyptian, Greek, and Qabalistic symbolism, often with complex and abstract imagery, reflecting Crowley's magical and philosophical system. - Minor Arcana: The Thoth deck incorporates Crowley's unique perspectives on the Minor Arcana, with each suit reflecting one of the four alchemical elements.
Marseille Tarot: - Origin: Traces its roots to 18th-century France, with earlier versions appearing in the 16th century. Marseille decks often prioritize simplicity and direct symbolism. - Key Features: Recognized by its unique style of pips (numbered cards) and the absence of illustrated scenes in the Minor Arcana. Focuses on geometric patterns and essential symbols. - Major Arcana: Marseille Major Arcana cards feature traditional archetypes with distinct artistic styles. The imagery tends to be simpler compared to the Rider-Waite-Smith deck. - Minor Arcana: The Marseille deck uses pip cards, emphasizing the suit symbols and numbers without elaborate illustrations, encouraging readers to rely on their intuition and knowledge of numerology.
Comparative Aspects: - Artistic Style: Rider-Waite-Smith is characterized by detailed illustrations, Thoth by intricate and symbolic imagery, and Marseille by a more minimalistic and geometric approach. - Philosophical Influence: Rider-Waite-Smith draws on Hermetic and esoteric symbolism, Thoth incorporates Crowley's occult teachings, and Marseille has roots in traditional European mysticism. - Accessibility: Rider-Waite-Smith is often recommended for beginners due to its straightforward symbolism, while Thoth can be complex for newcomers. Marseille requires a blend of intuition and traditional knowledge. - Cultural Influence: Rider-Waite-Smith and Thoth have had a significant impact on Western esotericism, while Marseille reflects a more traditional European approach to tarot.
These tarot systems offer diverse perspectives, making each suitable for different practitioners based on their preferences, knowledge, and interpretative styles. Tarot de Marseille (TdM): - Cultural Influence: Rooted in European traditions, the Marseille Tarot has historical ties to playing cards and early tarot decks. It often retains a sense of the medieval and Renaissance eras. - Minor Arcana: TdM's Minor Arcana consists of numbered pips without detailed illustrations, relying on geometric arrangements of suit symbols. The emphasis is on numerology and symbolism. - Major Arcana: The Major Arcana cards follow traditional archetypes with distinct iconography. The Marseille style often includes unique elements, like the Pope being depicted as the "Papess" or the Tower featuring a crumbling building.
Comparative Aspects (Continued): - Symbolism: Rider-Waite-Smith uses detailed scenes and additional symbolism, Thoth incorporates esoteric and occult symbolism, while Marseille relies on core symbols and geometric patterns. - Reader's Intuition: Marseille encourages readers to rely on their intuitive understanding of symbols and numbers. Rider-Waite-Smith and Thoth, with their detailed imagery, may provide more visual cues for interpretation. - Astrology and Kabbalah: Thoth incorporates detailed connections to astrology and Kabbalah, influencing both Major and Minor Arcana. Rider-Waite-Smith includes astrological symbols, while Marseille may have subtle astrological associations.
Personal Preference: - Artistic Taste: Individuals often gravitate toward a specific tarot system based on artistic preferences. Some may appreciate the detailed scenes of Rider-Waite-Smith, while others prefer the abstract symbolism of Thoth or the simplicity of Marseille. - Philosophical Alignment: Practitioners with an interest in Hermeticism and Western esoteric traditions may favor Rider-Waite-Smith or Thoth, while those drawn to historical and traditional approaches may resonate with Marseille.
Final Thoughts: - Each tarot system offers a unique lens through which to explore the mystical and symbolic aspects of life. The choice between Rider-Waite-Smith, Thoth, or Marseille often depends on personal preferences, philosophical inclinations, and the level of complexity desired in readings. - Many practitioners engage with multiple tarot systems, finding value in the diverse perspectives each one brings. The rich history and cultural influences embedded in these tarot decks continue to captivate and inspire users on their spiritual journeys.
Evolution and Diversification: - Modern Interpretations: Over time, tarot systems have continued to evolve, leading to the creation of modern decks that draw inspiration from Rider-Waite-Smith, Thoth, Marseille, and other traditions. These decks often incorporate diverse cultural influences, artistic styles, and thematic variations. - Innovative Decks: Contemporary tarot artists produce decks that explore themes such as mythology, feminism, LGBTQ+ perspectives, and more. Decks like the Wild Unknown, the Modern Witch Tarot, or the Afro-Brazilian Tarot bring fresh interpretations to tarot symbolism.
Cultural and Global Impact: - Globalization: Tarot has become a global phenomenon, with practitioners and enthusiasts from various cultures embracing and adapting the practice to their own traditions. - Cultural Representation: Decks like the Ancestral Path Tarot or the IONA Tarot incorporate diverse cultural perspectives, offering a more inclusive representation of humanity's spiritual and cultural tapestry.
Practical Considerations: - Learning Curve: Rider-Waite-Smith is often recommended for beginners due to its accessibility, while Thoth may be better suited for those with a deeper understanding of occult symbolism. Marseille requires a blend of intuition and traditional knowledge. - Reading Style: Some readers prefer the narrative and visual clues provided by Rider-Waite-Smith, while others appreciate the esoteric depth of Thoth or the open-ended symbolism of Marseille.
Individual Exploration: - Personal Connection: The most effective tarot system often depends on an individual's personal connection and resonance with a particular deck. Exploring different decks and systems allows practitioners to discover which one aligns best with their intuitive and interpretative style.
Conclusion: In the vast and ever-expanding world of tarot, the Rider-Waite-Smith, Thoth, and Marseille systems serve as foundational pillars, each contributing a unique perspective to the art of divination. As tarot continues to evolve and diversify, practitioners are encouraged to explore, experiment, and find the decks that resonate most deeply with their spiritual journey and personal intuition.

**COPYRIGHT NOTICE** ALL MATERIAL HERE IS SUBJECT TO COPYRIGHT © 2024 by J.C. Van Horn
Hey guys, check out this western I wrote. Sort of like an episode from Buster Scruggs or a bonus RDR2 mission.
“It's a hell of a thing, killing a man. Take away all he's got, and all he's ever gonna have.”
William Munny, Unforgiven (1992)
The shotgun had been cold for weeks, but he knew it would shoot. His horse was very close to the fire, and he thought it might singe itself as it stood sleeping, so he watched the horse. His toes were warm with whitecorn liquor. His boots smelled terrible. He had short, iron facial hair that could degrime a ship’s hull. Eyes polished steel purple in the firelight. He took a small notepad and a pencil from his shirt pocket, and put the pencil in his mouth. He felt the thin, oily pages of the little book, and began to read the things he’d written in his rippling cursive hand:
Nov 28 1868 Folks now dont argue as much as they used to Glad for it dont like shooting folk Last one dont know if he lived or died gone too quick Hit his shoulder he fell hard Alive when I rode off so aint hit his heart Lady with him said shed get help reckon that she did
Dec 3 1868 Missing a good woman Asleep on a beach something like San Diego ? Tan color arms with white hairs Feet in the water every day Find her after this
Dec 8 1868 Got $9 from man in Pueblo Not mine but mine now
Dec 11 1868 Whinnies a good nag Man in Pueblo told me shed fetch good money Might have sold but I still need a horse Maybe dont sell just ride somewhere warm ? Heard theres fine women in Houston Got to think more on it
Dec 12 1868 Deep in the Rockies Hope to leave this mean land soon Stage coming through with money and joolry (learn how to spell joolry) Hitch a ride and rob when we get south ? Ha I’m nothing nice Can smell my self Cant wash too cold Cant build big fire or any one sees When done take Whinnie down the mountain fence the loot Moods good but damn cold
Then the gunslinger took the pencil out of his mouth and wrote:
Dec 13 1868 Stage tomorrow writing to keep sharp Saw a marmut today Didnt shoot shop meats easier less fuss about it Marmut looked happy Lucky happy basturd Guns are clean Whinnie is happy Lots of snow so lots of water 1 bottle of shine 47 cigs 25 revolver 13 shells 3 can bean 1 can pea 1 pound meat $23
And he put the little book away. He had eaten a fistful of smoked meat and a can of peas an hour earlier, but he might have been hungry again. He decided he was, and repeated the meal. He slept facing East and when the sun rose it woke him, the light breaking through the trees to dress the mountain in pale rags. Whinnie was awake before the morning. Her cremello coat always winked the dominant color of the landscape, so in the desert, she was an ember alight in the outlands: now, the faintest mint blue. The gunslinger spoke to her in a soft spell, “Oooh, sweet sweet–” and fed her sweetgrass stuck with snow, “oooh, sweet girl.” His song of no particular shape or pattern, but one he sang to her often.
He walked alone to the place where he would attack the stagecoach. The party would come through about midday because it had been in Pueblo two days ago, and the driver had made arrangements for Trinidad for this very night, and Trinidad was half a day away. He chose a spot where the road went sharply up and left, and even under the best circumstances, the driver would need to bank gently to not overturn the carriage. He sat behind a tree and smoked, but he did not carry his liquor. He ate a gloveful of snow from the pile he had made while clearing a place to sit. He thought about the story his Pueblo informant, Jota, had told him. It had been on his mind since he’d heard it—a love story, he knew, but did not remember if the man gave it a name. He thought he should remark the story in his notepad that night by the fire. If things went well, and he remembered to do it, he thought that he would. Then he thought that if he were captured by anyone, lawmen or some other, he would have to burn the little book if he could, and if he could not, he’d pull it into the air and blast it with the shotgun. He would do this even if the men seizing his bounty might shoot him down for doing so.
He heard the padding of hooves coming up the pass. By his ear, he measured about six horses. He went to his knees and hugged the tree with one arm to steady himself as he keeked down the road. A hard-looking man rode in front of the party with his rifle drawn and eyes awake. The stagecoach behind him was wide and red, and the driver wore a yellow bowtie. A second rider followed closely behind. Jota had not mentioned the riders, but the gunslinger could not be surprised at the prudence to hire guns before traversing the mountains. He knew then that if he took action, either he, or the riders, or all, must perish. He made amends with the facts of the matter and resolved himself to shoot as he must. He would roll out from behind the tree and aim the shotgun from one knee and set his sights to the front rider’s throat. The natural rise of his aim would send the meat of the buckshot into the hard man’s face. Then he would cover quickly and recock his weapon before sighting the other rider, who may flee, or be so taken by the swiftness of the attack as to fall just as easily. Once the gun thunder had all faded, he would quell the driver and the passengers, collect his due, and let the stage go along in peace. The plodding and padding of the hooves was louder now and it was time.
The gunslinger rolled over and raised up onto one knee. He aimed at the front rider’s throat and pulled the trigger. The rider’s head disappeared into a frightful pink slurry. His corpse slung down painlessly as his horse reared up and screamed, then turned and fled back down the road. The terrible shrieks of women came from inside the coach. The gunslinger shucked the spent shell, retook position behind the tree, and lay flat once more. The driver halted the carriage as the second rider came around with his own shotgun drawn. The gunslinger peered around and sighted him, but the rider fired first. Huge flakes of wooden shrapnel exploded from the tree. The gunslinger ducked back and made himself thin behind the trunk. The raucous boom of that shot could not have come from anything less than an eight bore, a gauge larger than a man’s thumb. The rider fired a second thunderclap shot that shredded the ground-broken roots of the tree and sprayed moss into the air. The gunslinger stayed where he was and only listened for hints of the enemy’s movement. All in an instant, he heard the opponent’s gun snap-break open, two empty shells clink softly onto the road, two new slugs slide smoothly into their pipes, and the crisp clack of it all closing again. The enemy’s horse trotted nervously along the ridge in the thin space between the road and the steep, treelined edge. The rider dismounted and landed coolly on both feet. With one arm, he kept his weapon trained on the assailant in the brush, and with the other, he thwacked the horse’s croup to get it to move. And it did move, fleeing up the road and not stopping. With the path now clear, the driver seized his moment and whipped up the four horses carrying the coach. Then he whipped again, and a third time.
The gunslinger could not move. His enemy came towards him, unshaken, with fingers on both triggers. Twin bores of teeth-chilling metal. One quarter-second from oblivion. The rider focused the entire span of his mortal attention on the vision before him, so in that moment when the stagecoach came racing up the bend, he did not hear the frightful crash of the breaking wheels, nor the shrill of the driver’s scream, all coming like Hell behind him.
Then the mountain was peaceful. The gunslinger shouldered the shotgun and leapt up onto the road. He saw the man he’d shot—a body, trampled by hooves and wheels, but no face. He walked on. A few yards up the road, where the embankment dropped off sharply, the heft of the carriage and the fallen horses had cleared the smaller trees away, so the gunslinger could see the deep, open country beyond. Twenty yards down the slope, a caboodle of horse flesh and wood and iron was draped around an old blue spruce. All hung together like a pair of boots sharing a single bastard lace. There were the sounds of horses dying but nothing moved.
The gunslinger sat in the road and smoked. He listened until there was no more noise, which took the time of two cigarettes. Finally, he got to his feet, stepped to the edge of the slope, then sat down on his ass again. He pushed the heels of his boots into the ground and grabbed the stump of a fallen sapling. He slid down the bank in cautious spurts as his heels pressed shallow tracks into the ground, and his hands shuffled from one hold to the next. Finally, he stood on an embedded hillside rock positioned two yards above the wreckage. He looked into the broken stagecoach, searching for anything alive or shiny.
“Please. God, help me. Someone.” The voice was weak and girlish. “Help me.” The gunslinger closed his eyes and shook his wide head. The girl was sobbing now. “Mother. Oh my God, mother please. No.” Her cries were desperate, awful things that were the sounds of someone already dead, mourning themselves on the other side of infinity. The carriage groaned and shifted an inch towards the profoundness below.
“Miss!” the gunslinger shouted. “Miss! Hold still!”
“Who's that? Oh my God, mother!”
“Don’t move! Don’t even talk!”
“Please wake up, momma.”
“Stop movin’, and stop talkin’, or we will not be talkin’ much longer!” The gunslinger moved down and used the rock now as a handhold. He made a new foothold of the remains of a broken tree, and in this new position he felt secure. He was closer now, so he lowered his voice. “I’m goin’ to save you, ma’am. But I don’t know how close I can get- don’t say nothin’! And don’t move ‘til I say.” The girl’s jumpy breath stopped, then started again, and he knew she had understood him. The gunslinger reached his right leg out to test its length, but it was too short to meet the next strongpoint. He was as close as one could be without stepping onto the mangled side of the carriage itself. “Alright,” he said. “Climb out towards my voice. Move slowlike, with real light feet.”
“I can’t leave her.”
“Save yourself, little darling,” the gunslinger said. “That’s what your momma would say. Save yourself.” Silence spread across the mountain as the moments passed. Finally, a light clamor came from inside the coach, and the gunslinger saw a thin hand probing out of the rear window. “That’s it,” he said. “I can see you. Keep comin’ thataway. Slowlike.”
“Not slowlike,” the girl said as she moved. “Just slow.” Her words were mechanical, of an absent mind. Now half of her body was outside the carriage. She was thin and beautiful. She had a small, straightline gash on the crown of her head, as though a fifty cent piece had penetrated her skull. The thick split of skin spilled fresh blood into her hair.
“I’m here,” the gunslinger said. The girl looked up at him. Blood filtered through her hair and into her eyes, so she could not see the repentant look on the man’s face. He retested the security of his right foothold, then stretched his left leg down towards her.
“Agh!” she shouted, and looked down at herself.
“What happened?” he asked.
“It’s my neck. Or my arm, I don’t know. It hurts so bad.”
“Other hand. Reach up here.” She did as the gunslinger said and grasped his boot. “Take it off,” he said. “It won’t have you hangin’ on it.” The girl took the boot off and dropped it away. The gunslinger could smell his own stink. “The sock too,” he said. She stripped the sock off and let it fall. She reached back up and grabbed the top of his naked foot, the breadth of her hand scarcely wide enough to find its grip. “You got me?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Hold it.” The gunslinger drove his knee up towards his chest. He grasped the handholds and his long, cruddy fingernails turned white. The girl leveraged her green silk shoes into the face of the hill and moiled her legs up, up, and up again. The gunslinger seized her arm and pulled her up into his chest. Her right clavicle was broken clean across. A dark blue bruise was climbing up her neck and down her breast. A silver necklace with a white diamond centerstone sat disarranged over her drooping shoulder.
The gunslinger began upon the hours of gradual climbing that waited for him above. Through it all, the stagecoach remained fastened to the mountain. It would have rested there until nature itself faded to sawdust…
He laid the girl on the ground beside the heap of his ultimate campfire. He went to the horse and dug out his last clean shirt from the saddle bag. Whinnie’s coat blushed the mountain dusk. She was hungry. She wanted to be brushed, and she wanted to be sung to as she was brushed, all for the pleasure of it. But there came no food. There was no brushing, nor any of her rider’s soft songs. She staggered and nickered restlessly in the absence of these attentions. The gunslinger took his knife and cut away the top half of his spare shirt. He sat the girl upright and wrapped her head twice around, from jaw to meridian. He knotted the shirt sleeves under her chin like tying a headscarf. He took off his outer jacket and put it over the girl’s shoulder, then tied the jacket also by its sleeves. He fashioned a sling from the bottom half of the shirt he had cut. He untied the coat, strapped the sling under the girl’s injured arm and over her good shoulder, then put the coat on her again. Finally, he tended the horse as dusk fell to night.
An hour passed and perhaps the girl did not blink but twenty times in that span. The gunslinger fed her sips of liquor from his hand. She took the drinks silently, seeming to be unaware she was taking them at all. The man gave her fifteen sips, and took as many drinks for himself, until only three fingers of liquor remained in the bottle. In the night, they were both drunk before the fire. “You killed my momma,” the girl said suddenly, and without moving. The tightness of the headwrap prevented the complete articulation of her mouth, so her words had dull edges, like things spoken after the dentist. “Hell take you for it.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am.”
“Hell take your sorries. I’ll send you to the Devil myself.”
“Man sends himself to Satan. No one else.”
“You’ll soon see. Why are we still here? I’m an injured party.”
“My horse can’t see the road at night.”
“Yes it can.”
“She can’t. We have to wait ‘til mornin’.”
“Then what will you do with me?”
“I’ll take you where you’re goin’.”
“To Trinidad?”
“The same.”
“How did you know where to find us?” she asked. The gunslinger did not reply. “Did someone tip us off? Who was it? Was it someone in Pueblo? I know everyone in Pueblo.” But again, the man said nothing. “Was it that wagtail bitch Lily what works at the hotel?”
“No,” he said finally. “All no.”
“You tell me,” she said. “They killed my momma just as much as you.” Then the girl began sobbing at the newest remembrance of her loss. The gunslinger leaned against the saddle on the ground next to the fire. I gotta wake this night through, he thought. I don’t know what a grieving girl is capable of. It was true; he did not know, and his interests were not in finding the answer this way. He heard the cries that fell out of her but tried not to listen to them. After a few minutes, the girl let out a deep, heaving wail, and vomited on herself. The man took out the very last item of spare clothing he had: a half-dirty pair of long underwear bottoms. He cleaned her off as well as he could, and as he did, they spoke.
“There’s bounty men near Trinidad,” the girl said, very drunk. “If you don’t kill me, and I don’t die before we get there, I’m going to put your picture up.”
“They got my picture up already.”
“Then there’ll be another one.”
“Already got another one.”
“Then I’ll just kill you.”
“You’re a rich lady.”
“Not rich! We’re normal, decent people!”
“You can’t buy pretty necklaces and yellowbelly coach drivers with decency.”
“You don’t understand anything. You’re a greedy, no-good, mongrel of a man.”
“So you see.”
“I’ll tell you. Fortune holds no sway over me. But if I was a rich lady, like you say, I’d kill you still. And I’d kill you mean. I’d kill you like how a man would.”
“We neither know the other,” he said as he cleaned the last of the filth from her. “We have it good that way.” He slung the soiled garment into the snowy darkness beyond the reach of the firelight. The stiffness in the girl’s frame died away as she slumped down to battle another wave of mourning, then cried for a while into a dizzy, fathomless sleep. The gunslinger waited and smoked for nearly another hour, then took out his notepad and pencil:
Dec 14 1868 Stage was my blunder Saved a girl Killed her mother 3 other men Girls hurt bad gone to the doctors She said Im gone to Hell maybe I am Will make sure shes safe then she can send me there as she says Saw the necklacepiece but would not rob it If she handed it to me would not take it Im the man killed her mother Thinking now on Jotas love story
Good man rode with a bad gang Good man loved the saloon owners daughter She saw the bad gang and run home Good man went after her He was a very fine man Daughter heard him at her door saying he loved her She thought him a scowndrul come along with bad men He wagered she come out but she did not He knocked and begged But she stayed in the house Shed aloved him if shed come out but she did not Saloon owner came and shot the good man dead Bad gang came and shot the rest of em to Hell Buried em all in one grave
He looked up from his writing and saw the girl, still unmoving. Shame dissolved into him. He rested the notepad on the ground and set the pencil beside it. He closed his eyes. He thought he should write something more about the horrors of his deeds, or that he should write anything at all to keep himself awake, but soon his thoughts led him into a guilty, drunken sleep.
The girl had not been sleeping. She was waiting in the cold night with her eyes closed and her feet very close to the fire. She moved like half frozen straw unbending itself and put the palm of her good hand on the ground, then rolled over onto her knees. In this way, she shuffled very deliberately for a quarter of an hour before she finally closed the gap between herself and gunslinger. She knew the shotgun was beneath his head, under the saddle. Once she had shot him, she would stoke the fire until it was huge and warm, then she would read what the man had written in his little book, knowing she had avenged her mother. But then she thought. What if he wakes? Did he unload the gun? Is he the only man that can save me out here? And then she thought of the man’s notepad. What if I read something that makes me regret killing this man? Am I a killer at all? Even a killer of bad men? She forgot the shotgun and sat on her heels. She looked at the man. He was sleeping with his legs crossed and arms at his sides, his body angled up like a bent finger. She picked up the notepad and the pencil and took them back around the firepit, quicker this time, all the way to the place where she rested before. If he’s a bad man, I’ll kill him, she thought. But I won’t bother with the gun. I’ll smash the bottle on his head and kick the fire on him. She read the little book back to front until it was finished, then she sat awake with her eyes closed, thinking of her mother.
In the first light of day, the gunslinger readied the horse. He was anxious for having fallen asleep, but grateful the girl was there, and that they were both alive. He looked at the girl's face, frosted red in the new morning, and the thin strands of black hair over her eyes like strings from spiders of another world. The gunslinger poured a sip of liquor into his hand and bent down to the girl. He wafted his palm under her tiny nose. “I know you’re gonna to wake up hurtin’. Let’s just get it in ya.” His voice, a father waking his daughter to attend Easter Day church service. The girl didn’t need to hear him. She had not slept. She had taken some time in the night to experiment with ways she could maneuver her injured shoulder without stirring the pain. She found those ways to be very few, but in her experimenting, she became accustomed to the particular nature of the pain, and now it bothered her very little. She lay, a stack of wasted thews in the dirt, playing as though the night’s alcohol had her sick. The gunslinger sucked the liquor from his hand, then fed the girl four handfuls of snow. She knew he was seeing past her farce, but once committed to the performance, she thought she should not abandon it. For the last few minutes before they rode out of camp, she steadily lowered the drama in her acting by allowing her features to awaken one at a time. Soon, however, real exhaustion settled in behind her eyes.
Now they were both on the horse, the gunslinger with one hand at the girl’s side to see she did not fall. He sensed her balance with the thick muscles in his back, and there, he felt the hard diamond pendant of her necklace between them. The girl cried softly, in shorter and shorter spans, each separated from the last by about five minutes, and soon she fell into a perfect dream of when she was young. Her father building a homestead in Pueblo with aid from the Freemasons of lodge seventeen. Day fifty of the project. Men putting copper nails into slate shingles to form a roof. At night, a big canvas tent, a black iron stove, and her mother knitting something brown. Chicken soup on boil. Her father sitting on a crate, reading from a small blue book with a gold diamond emblem on the cover. His lips moved silently as he read over the same passage many times. “Father,” she asked him. “How will you ever remember so many words?”
“With patience and focus," he said in his kind, easy voice.
“Can I help you get more patience and more focus?” she asked in juvenile earnest. She wanted all the time to help her family. Being useful to them was the most important thing to her.
“Leave your father be, Caroline,” her mother said without pausing her knitting. “He must pass his test to repay the debt we owe to the men who’ve helped us. And he has only the days left in this month to prepare.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the girl said. Her mother was going to say something more, to give the girl some menial, well-intended distraction to go out with, but before she could speak, the girl awoke in Trinidad, in the bronze light of early evening.
“Ma’am, we’ve made it to the doctor’s,” the gunslinger said as he dismounted, still keeping one hand at the girl’s side, then taking her by the waist to let her down. Her face turned sour as she relived the events of the day past, but she did not cry. The gunslinger led her into the doctor’s building. He waited outside and smoked as she was inspected. The sun drew down, and he heard the sounds of brass music and women singing somewhere in the town. He finished his third cigarette. I’m sick of smoking, he thought, then touched his jacket pocket for the notepad, but did not feel it there. His hands shook as his mind swelled with a haunted, spectral feeling, like a man who had forgotten to do something very important, now remembering exactly what it was he failed to do. His fractured lips hung open and his vacant eyes did not distinguish the sights before him. Blue spaces beneath his eyes where he stored his self contempt. In his mind, he felt only the screams of the women in the stagecoach. He knew the final farewell between the girl and her mother had been one of confusion and suffering, whereas the lives they shared must have been full of love and joy. But those lives would be no more. The life of the mother, forever extinguished. The life of the daughter, forever sickened. And his reflection of their lives, forever unpolished, truthfully, never having been drawn out.
The girl and the gunslinger stood in the orange mountain dusk. She wore the doctor’s spare medical coat with only her good arm inside its sleeve. A leather sling fondled her arm and kept it tucked under her small chest. White bandages wrapped neatly about her head. She looked at the soiled man and examined his corpus to record him precisely in her mind. He was a pitiful thing, dressed in black rags stained gray from sweat. The hairs on his cheeks were longer now, like bunches of white hypodermic needles. He stood teetering and slouching into himself like an exhausted horse. His lips were almost white. Every inch of him contributed to his foul smell. His eyes were fixed on the frozen mud street, as though there was something down there that he loved and needed. He was not a tall man, but now he seemed even smaller than she, a girl of just sixteen years. She closed her eyes and squeezed soft tears from them. And there they stood, neither looking at the other, but feeling one another’s presence as tightly as stitches. The girl wiped her face with the sleeve on her good arm.
“What’s your name, mister?” she asked. He did not reply nor seem to hear her question at all. “It’s a beautiful evening,” she said. The gunslinger looked west down the road.
“It is,” he said finally, then his gaze dropped to the mud again.
“I’m going to speak with the sheriff now,” she told him. Again, the gunslinger said nothing. She turned away and stood, breathing softly into the wind. After a minute, she faced him again. She took the notepad from her pocket, placed it in his down-turned hand, and closed his fingers around it. The doctor’s coat nearly fell from her shoulders. She reached back to pull it on again. The gunslinger looked at the notepad, then at the small, soft hand that had put it there.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
The girl sprung her good arm forward and bashed the gunslinger on the nose. There was a splintery break as the nose bent and cowered away like a beat dog. This time, the coat did fall from her shoulders, and down into the street. When struck, the man did not stumble or sway, but only closed his eyes. The girl turned and walked, almost running, stamping over the fallen coat and crying out every tear she had left. The gunslinger’s body lost all connectedness. His knees drove holes through the topshell of frozen mud, then he fell forward onto his face. He mewled and wailed pathetically. His cries hacked and bubbled out of him like a boy weeping in a dream, like a man who had never cried before and was just teaching himself how. Tears, blood, and drivel soaked the place where his head lay, and soon there was mud all about his face and mouth, his mind drowning in the anguish of guilt.
“Miss, can you tell me what’s going on?” the sheriff asked the crying girl sitting in his office. He looked at her kindly, taking note of her injuries. He sat down next to her. “Where’s the son of a bitch that hurt you? You tell me, and my men and I will bring that bastard in to face the justice that’s coming to him.” The girl raised a finger to the sheriff. He waited patiently for her to compose herself. She took four deep, shaking breaths, then she spoke.
“My name is Caroline Bloomberg. My mother and I were on the road to Santa Fe to reunite with my father. Of course, we were robbed. I knew it would happen. I just knew it would. My momma… she’s gone. Everyone but me is gone. There was shooting. Loud, loud shots. The driver lost himself and took us right off the road.”
“I’m very sorry to hear this, ma’am.”
“We were so proud to be coming down here. Three months ago, my father went off to expand his business, and finally he wrote to tell us of his success. There was money to hire a stagecoach and men to guard us on the road. We could have brought the whole army, but my momma was raised to be frugal. She thought two riders and her old pistol would be enough to see us safely through.”
“Your mother sounds like a very strong woman. And your father, a good man.”
“They are. She was always strong. She always will be.”
“Did you get a look at the men who robbed you?”
“There was only one.”
“And he?” the sheriff asked. Behind him was a bulletin of bounty posters, and there was a picture of the gunslinger, wearing a clean face with bright eyes.
The girl looked for a while at the picture and at the other bounties posted. Finally, she shook her head. “My father also sent a secret allowance to the Masonic lodge in Pueblo, with instructions to deliver the money to me, so I could buy this.” She took the necklace out from under her shirt and showed it to the sheriff. “My father promised long ago that I should have it. Such a fool of a little girl. I could have hired the men we needed.” The sheriff nodded. He knew the scam—diamond brokers chatting up unsuspecting customers, then telling some local reprobate all about their business. The brokers bought the stolen jewelry back at a rate, and reset the gems into new hardware to disguise their crime. The sheriff thought not to mention these details to the girl, and he hoped she would never learn of the scheme at all.
“I have to ask, ma’am,” he said. “How was it that you were able to save yourself?”
“Just as you say,” she said. “I saved myself.”
Down the road, a crowd of drunkards and children gathered to watch the gunslinger as he seized in the muck. The tall doors of the barn next to the jailhouse flung open, and out came the police stableman to shoo the miscreants away and clear space for the cavalry. The sheriff lent his arm to the girl as they came outside and down the steps of the office building. Other officers filed out of the barn with lanterns fixed to their rifles, swinging their shines against the burgeoning dark. The sheriff helped the girl mount up on an unclaimed horse, then went to fetch his own. The stableman handed the sheriff his rifle and said something to him. The sheriff replied in a low voice that the girl could not hear, then he led a single line of mounted officers away down the frozen road. A moment later, they passed the crying man in the mud.
“Somebody get this drunk bastard out of the street,” the sheriff said. He could not have known the broken man below was in fact Theodore “Buckshot” Blake. His bounty, if seized, would have made the sheriff's career all the way to Lieutenant Colonel of the Colorado Rangers.
The girl now looked at this paltry man in the dirt. He was bent and turned so that she could not see his face. She remembered with satisfaction the feeling of his nose shattering against her hard little knuckles. She wondered if she was making a mistake by not handing the man over to the sheriff right then and there. She thought of the hanging that would ensue. Death might absolve the gunslinger’s soul, and she wanted so much to deprive him of that swift, honest conclusion. So the girl only looked away from the gunslinger, straightened her ladylike back, and rode with dignity, away and out of the town.
One of the drunkards came and kicked the gunslinger hard in the stomach; a brown-nosed effort to earn the good will of the sheriff. Then the gunslinger crawled. Despite his licks, his body was healthy. Yet, truly, it was a sick man that went skulking into the alleyway. Not a drunk, not a beggar, but a scoundrel. A repentant thing with a tattered notepad and only distant memories of love. He sat, leaning against the side of the doctor’s building, and opened the little book. On what he expected to be a clean page, there was written in a hand unlike his own:
Mister, you should thank God I’m not a killer. I could end your life now as you sleep. There is guilt and shame in the words I have read here. Even now your face looks as though it is full of shame. So I will not kill you. Knowing you are a man with a conscience, I will write some memories here so you may know just a small part of the pain you have put into the world.
My mother’s name was Gwyneth. The carriage driver’s name was Maximillian. The riders I did not know but from how they behaved I’m sure they were debaucherous men like yourself. Read those names and remember them. Is this the first time you have been confronted with such information? I hope that it is. I hope I am spoiling some cowardly tradition of yours.
The past days had been the best of my life before you took your action. I have never seen such wildlife as in the hills of Farista, or had such delicious stew as in the town lodge at Colorado City. Mother and I laughed and played bridge. She even allowed me one of her cigarettes each morning with our coffee.
Before your attack, we spoke of my father’s newfound wealth. My mother hoped money would not change the man she married. I assured her such a thing would be impossible. My father is a man of unimpeachable character. He builds great things from almost nothing, just as he built himself. I will see him again soon, but he will never again see his wife. They will never again do the things they did to bring me into this world. The honeymoon of their lives is over.
You will take me to Trinidad as you say. I know this is true because you hate yourself. You will help me so you might hate yourself less. Or maybe you will go on killing and hating as before, but there can be no doubt you will try. My mind is unclear now, but once I am sober I will decide what to do with you. If I am vengeful, you will suffer. If I am merciful, I imagine you will suffer the more.
Never yours, Caroline Jane Bloomberg, daughter of Gwyneth Hope Bloomberg
He put the little book down. She’s offered me a decision, he thought. A decision is more than a man like me deserves. Should I die to get away from my mistakes? Or should I live, and be with ’em forever? The gunslinger stood up and went to the place where he’d left Whinnie. He saw her coat glinting the last of the day’s light, and when she turned her noble head to nibble at his hands, the shine went away for a moment, but came back brighter on the other side. He stroked her flank and a few tan hairs stuck wet on his palm. “Oooh, sweet sweet,” he sang to her. “Oooh, sweet girl.” He took her by the halter and led her to the stables, where he sold the horse for one hundred dollars. Then he struck a second deal with the stableman to have a bath at his house for five of those dollars back…
Theodore Williams sat in a shady beach cabana with a glass of cherry wine. He watched his wife, Mary, dancing in the waves with her friends. Then the beach at night. Salt wind and talk of life’s fortunes. Splitting up to make love on the beach in pairs, some yards between each couple. The ocean, very loud. The waves, eerie, yet prophesied. Perhaps eerie because they are prophesied and each wave is a prophecy of death. Moonlight the only light in the twisted air. Theodore, a man disturbed by the taste of happiness and love, yearning for his natural end, unable to indulge what ought have been his greatest pleasure, but a man who, with each day that passed, was becoming closer to the thing he would have been. In the morning, he wrote:
Apr 1 1871 Mary wants me to write more The person this woman is She is beautiful The sand never all gets off her She reads poetry ‘Helen Hunt Jackson’ I have never done a poem I bite my hand when I think about doing it But I will write a poem for you my darling
BUCKSHOT BORDEREAU
On a lone farm in Kentucky A boy made friends with rocks Ma said to swears unlucky Pa said to clean your socks Eight teen hundred thirty seven That year was no good Took a flu on December eleven A bad day he understood Shotgun he heards the soil From sprouts a money tree Farmworks too much toil Hed rather eat for free She was down all underneath One evil by his hand She he saved to save him thus And show him his God’s plan
And he put the notepad and the pencil away.

I've often seen people say online that they were loners in school but subsequently "found their people", i.e. the group where they fit in. I wasn't a loner in school (at least not consistently so) but in my 20s and even late teens I began drifting away from the male and female friends I had from those days. As the religious and more socially conservative person in the group I felt I had less and less in common with them. I sought out connections in Catholic life over the years, went to events, attended meetings of various groups (or just tried to find out if there even were other groups and meetings out there that I was unaware of) and made some efforts to "network" in some way, both out of a desire for companionship (friendly or romantic) and out of a sense that practising communion with others is something that should flow from wanting to live according to the Gospel.
But now, as a man of 40, I feel I would have been better off if I'd spent less time, thought and energy on contemporary Catholic life (humanly and sociologically speaking) and had instead taken a more "targeted", more deliberate approach to Catholic socialisation. I don't want to write a huge book about the issue but maybe a good way to begin giving a few outlines on the subject would be to mention a specific example which I think is consistent with a more general pattern I've observed.
A few years ago I spent some days visiting another European country, a couple of hours away from my own by plane, and while I was there I was invited to a Catholic social event. There were about 20 people and there was food and board games. About half the people were talkative and socialised, while the rest said little to nothing and mostly just watched the others socialising.
Despite being a total newcomer to the group and a visitor to the country, I wasn't too shy and ended up in the talkative, socialising "faction". I chatted with others and joined in with the games and had a fairly enjoyable time. But being a total newcomer and visitor from abroad, I also didn't feel very comfortable taking the lead in doing much out-reach to the "lurker faction". It bothered me a lot that so many people were just sitting there not saying anything and not having anyone say anything to them, especially when the group was small enough that it would have been possible to give everyone at least some general attention. I made a few small efforts to talk to some of them and include them in the proceedings, but I felt like doing more would mean having to take on the role of the host to some extent, all while being very conscious that I was a guest, not the host. I just didn't feel well-positioned to play the host in those circumstances and I kept wishing a more-established regular among the socialisers would try to include the spectators.
There was one couple in particular who said not one word the whole time, to whom no one spoke and whom no one even acknowledged (as far as I could see). What made it worse to my mind was that their general appearance could honestly give the impression that they weren't the most highly educated, which made me feel they were being more heavily ignored than anyone else because of things like class, status and appearance. I don't mean that this was being done in a conscious, deliberate way, or that it was the sole factor in no one talking to them. But it felt to me like it was there as an undercurrent. Not in a consciously snobby way, but just from an instinctive shying away from people with whom one seems to have less in common.
Many years before that, I was at an ecumenical event and a (female for the record) Protestant minister who gave a talk said something along the lines of, "Various definitions of 'church' could be given, some of them more theological or spiritual, but one very practical definition might be 'being together with people whom you wouldn't otherwise be grouped with'." That's always stuck in my memory.
As for my actual experience of Catholic social life in practice, a very significant streak in it hasn't been that thing of "being together with those you wouldn't otherwise be grouped with" -- at least not to a very meaningful extent -- but has been more like a story from the making of The Planet of the Apes. The story goes that when it was time for lunch in between shooting scenes for that film, all the actors in chimpanzee make-up sat and ate together, all the actors in orangutan make-up sat together and likewise with all the actors in gorilla make-up. There was no obligation for them to segregate themselves that way nor did anyone tell them to do it. They just did it spontaneously: a simian version of "birds of a feather flock together".
I feel like so much of Catholic social life is stratified something like that, albeit in more various and complex ways. At some gathering or other you might have a range of people with different personalities and from different backgrounds and with varying levels of social (or ecclesiatical) status, some of them maybe being newcomers and others old regulars, and with all of it theoretically taking place under a banner of "everyone here together". But as far as the actual interactions and conversations go, people are often organising themselves (so it seems to me) in fairly constricted ways. Only really talking, for example, to the people they already know or with whom they don't really have to step outside their comfort zone that much, or just talking about a limited range of topics, or having a few more talkative or dominant people set the tone and hog the limelight while others end up just looking and listening quietly (perhaps without even having much space to talk to each other in a quieter way because the louder people are soaking up so much attention).
I personally haven't seen widespread instances of outright toxicity in Catholic social life or of very overt and explicit displays of exclusion and rudeness or bullying and so on (leaving aside online spaces, which are another story, and acknowledging that my own experience doesn't mean that other people haven't experienced more of these things, whether as victims or as witnesses).
It's been more just this general thing of Catholic social life being sort of "underground" in the first place, such that it's been very hard for me to even find it to begin with (I used to know some seminarians who often gave me an "in" with various groups and events, but trying to find such things on my own has been like groping about in the dark: I never see much advertised, and not a whole lot comes to me through any kind of grapevine); but then also that even if/when I do manage to find out about something and go along to it, there generally seems to be a sort of established or spontaneously solidifying order that I can never quite get past or work my way into that much. For example, a bunch of people who already know each other or who maybe come across as not having had as much of a working-class upbringing as I had (again, we're not talking about overt classism here, which I haven't really experienced, but about people sort of staying within their particular bubbles and familiar patterns of conversation and interaction). Or it can happen that I'm not even sure I really want to integrate more fully into the core of things in a particular setting because I don't want to just ignore the lurkers and quiet people in order to be one of the "in-people".
I might be getting more complicated, personal and specific in my musings here than I really want. I think there's a lot that could be said about this whole thing from multiple angles and in reference to ways it affects people of all sorts, not just individuals whose personalities, traits and socio-economic backgrounds might most resemble my own.
One angle, for example, would be my view that there's often been a general sense of aimlessness in post-conciliar Catholic life that I think has seeped into things at a lot of levels. Kind of like kids who missed out on various formational experiences because of all the Covid restrictions and who subsequently haven't known how to act in school or other social settings. I think the weakness of so much of post-conciliar Catholic life (theologically, spiritually, institutionally, liturgically etc.) has left a lot of Catholics with an often impoverished or skewed sense of how to act and view themselves as Catholics and how to relate to each other in Catholic life in all sorts of ways (it's worth noting that this often applies to the clergy too, not just the laity).
Anyway, although I don't regret making some efforts to seek out/desire/get involved in Catholic social life and to make connections and so on over the years, I feel I would have honestly been better off if I'd just accepted it much earlier as not really being where I could expect to easily find community and friendship and so on for various reasons -- not because it's outright toxic or blatantly exclusionary or because there's something hugely and obviously wrong somewhere in some very specific and troubling way, but because it's often like a sort of out-of-the-way, close-knit, quiet little village that can be hard to get to in the first place, and then even harder to really get welcomed into in a way that goes beyond being tagged as "just visiting". Or something like that.
Actually, I think you could compare it to the state of a lot of Catholic liturgy these days. Maybe there's no outright liturgical abuses in a particular parish, maybe there's nothing wrong or objectionable in some highly obvious and specific way. But there's just this general low(ish)-effort, okay-ish quality to things. Maybe you've a choir who aren't the most musically gifted people ever but who'd be well able to sing at least a few of the more simple Gregorian Chant melodies, even if only in the vernacular. But instead they're singing slightly fluffy, slightly folksy hymns that aren't the worst examples ever of unfortunate liturgical/musical choices but which just aren't really anything much in any direction. Why aren't they making that little bit of extra effort to sing something better? Because the general liturgical climate isn't nudging them that way. There're not being nudged into valuing the thing that takes just a bit more effort.
I think a lot of Catholic social life is like that. You've plenty of people who would be well capable of making a little bit more of an effort to welcome newcomers, to talk to the more quiet people or to come out of their shells a bit more if they themselves are the shy ones (especially if they happen to have some kind of seniority or responsibility within a group), to create a bit of general buzz that fosters people having a good time interacting and feeling included and so on. But instead, you often get "the choir" (i.e. the established regulars or de facto leaders) being just okay-ish about being friendly to newcomers and to quieter people, about opening up and creating some social buzz and so on. There's nothing very overtly and obviously wrong, but there's a lacklustre or lopsided quality to things that can really hold things back over the long run.
Like how it wouldn't require great musical talent or liturgical erudition to sing a few simple chant melodies, it wouldn't require great social charisma or heroically self-sacrificing feats of virtue to make things a bit more hospitable, a bit more inclusionary, a bit more vibrant and just generally more social. But there isn't enough of a general Catholic social climate that's nudging people to make these little efforts.
At least with the liturgical situation, if the liturgy in your parish isn't of a high quality, you can supplement it with a robust prayer life in your own private devotions. But when the social situation in Catholic life isn't very robust or accessible, what can you do? You're just stuck being lonely or deflated and demoralised.
Frankly, I'm at a point in my life where I've become less and less surprised that so many Catholics drift away from practising the Faith these days. My intellectual, moral and spiritual principles keep me feeling more or less securely attached to the Faith (with God's grace of course). But if it was just about the sociological reality, or if the sociological reality factored into it a lot more, I really think I'd be moving on from Catholicism out of simple loneliness (both as far as friends are concerned and as far as the prospects of marriage are concerned), or would have already moved on by now, with an attitude of "Fine if other people want to practise Catholicism but it's not really for me" or "I've found Catholics to be pleasant enough for the most part but I haven't really found 'my people' among them."
I remain a Catholic because I love such things as the Rosary, the Psalms and the rest of the Scriptures, devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, the Catholic vision of the moral life, the belief that the Lamb of God takes away the sins of the world and gives peace, the comfort that comes from asking our Lady to take us under her mantle and the hope that, to quote Julian of Norwich, ultimately "all will be well" even though we can't get our heads around it here in this life.
But on a more social level from day to day, my experience of being Catholic has been a chronically lonely reality (with occasional upswings). I feel like I invested a lot of time and mental/emotional energy into Catholic social life in a whole range of ways over the years, and now I wish I hadn't done so or had gone about it in a much different way, because it just wore me down and left me still in a lonely state (especially with the sense that time is running out for me to find a woman to marry and have a family with). I wish I'd been more sober-minded and open-eyed about the weaknesses of contemporary Catholic culture (even as someone who hasn't exactly been blind to such things), more realistic about what I could have expected to find in such a climate, and more deliberate in how I went about looking for "my people" within Catholic life, since I've still never found them.
Yes, I've encountered an encouraging number of individual Catholics here and there, online and offline, male and female and of various ages and states of life, whom I've liked, admired and respected; whom I've clicked with to varying degrees and with whom I've been in touch for longer or shorter amounts of time. I've also encountered hospitality that I would consider exemplary, such as when I was in Lourdes twenty years ago and visited the Legion of Mary centre one afternoon and the people there brought me into their dining room, sat me down and gave me creme caramel (because they'd just had lunch and were now having dessert) and made me feel like I was some kind of guest of honour.
But so much else has, alongside the positives, unfolded the way I described above: the spontaneous stratification, the various obstacles and issues that taken by themselves aren't maybe that noticeable or problematic but which add up collectively to a series of social barriers like a network of thick, sturdy walls formed from so many soft pillows and mattresses.
I used to laugh at old instructional films or texts from the 50s or whenever about manners and etiquette that told people how to behave at dinner parties and other social settings. I used to think the stuff they were pushing was too basic and obvious, or too stiff and stilted, to be all that worthwhile. I thought stuff like just having common sense and going with the flow was sufficient. I also thought that people trying to take their Christian Faith seriously would tend to be on the same page by default or at least be moving in the same general direction and would therefore be able to find enough in common and be able to socialise well enough when they would get together, regardless of their background, personality type or social status.
But now I feel there's a real lack of some basic encouragements and nudges towards the kind of attitudes and conduct that are conducive to a genuinely social and hospitable climate within Catholic life. By the way, I think a whole other angle on this thing is that a lot of the time there's a huge amount of focus -- I would even say hyper-focus -- in Catholic discourse these days on how we should all be evangelising in some grand but vague way, while not nearly enough gets said about everyday, specific, practical ways to build up a good community life and to personally and collectively cultivate things like courtesy, patience, kindness, agreeableness, attentiveness, good-will, hospitality, friendliness and so on that make communities warm, vibrant and flourishing. It's never going to be perfect in this life and, sad to say, there are always going to be people who fall through the cracks or who find themselves stuck in some corner or whatever. But I think as Catholics we really have a vast amount of room for improvement at the moment.
I want to emphasise again that this isn't just about me. I've consistently seen others, male and female, at Catholic gatherings who have an air about them that makes it seem like they're waiting (consciously or not) for someone to take some interest in them, to offer them a warm word and some friendliness (a little bit of which can go a long way). But a lot of the time they're left in the cold to one extent or other, sometimes just stuck watching a smaller group-within-the-group do their own thing, watching "the choir" monopolise all the talking and attention. It's not the only problem I've observed in Catholic social life but I'm just emphasising it again here at the end of this post because it's a rather obvious one and shows that this is not just about me not fitting in within Catholic life because of issues of my own making or something like that. There are widespread problems in Catholic social life, problems that really ought to be talked about and worked on. To return to the evangelisation issue, how can we evangelise if our communities and gatherings aren't that welcoming or engaging or if they're lopsided and lacklustre in various ways? Why would people want to come along and join in and be part of things in such situations?
TL:DR -- Adhering to Catholic beliefs and practices can be a very socially isolating experience these days, putting believers out of step with a lot of contemporary views and trends. But Catholic social life often fails in being sufficiently welcoming and supportive towards believers seeking the experience of community with other believers. Personally, I wish I'd been a lot more sober-minded and resigned over the years about what to expect from contemporary Catholic social life and had instead focused a lot more on just living my faith on my own as best I can, while keeping an eye out here and there for a few good connections with others that might come my way now and then. I think there's a need for more focus and effort within Catholic life on cultivating communities and gatherings that are more accessible, open, supportive and hospitable.

Hey guys i hope you are well, here is a new DH Gate find list , please watch carefully before you pick an item and always check twice for the size chart and the reviews! NOTE: I have not bought all of the items on the list, but all of them are manually collected from positive reviews and from different dhgate hauls. (Check the reviews of each item or massage the seller for QC pictures before you buy.)
PLEASE

• ask the seller for pics if you didn't find reviews or a size chart .
• this post will updated
• use cashback.
• if you need anything in dhgate let me know greygooselover .

SHOES / SLIDES:

1. BAPESTA
2. Nike Dunks
3. Dior B22 1
4. Dior B22 2
5. Jordan 11
6. Balenciaga Triple S 1
7. Balenciaga Triple S 2
8. Balenciaga Track 2
9. Balenciaga Slides
10. Christian Louboutin
11. Nike Tuned Air
12. Burberry Pattern Shoes
13. Revenge Storms
14. Yeezy 350 v2
15. Kobe 6
16. Yeezy 500 TSM
17. More Off-White Sneakers
18. Yeezy 500
19. Yeezy 450
20. Yeezy 350
21. Yeezy Slides
22. Yeezy Foamrunners
23. Crocs
24. Cristian Loub Spike Low Sneakers
25. Cristian Loub Spike High Sneakers
26. Nike Dunks
27. Nike Shox TL
28. Nike Tn
29. Nike Skeleton AF1
30. Nike AF1
31. Nike Air Max 1
32. Nike Air Max 95
33. Nike Nocta Glide
34. Nike Nocta Hot Step Air Terra
35. Nike Uptempo
36. Jordan 1's
37. Jordan 4's
38. Jordan 11's
39. Versace Chain Reaction
40. Alexander Mcqueen's
41. Balenciaga Track
42. Balenciaga Triple S
43. Balenciaga Runners
44. Birkenstocks
45. Burberry Vintage High Sneakers
46. Prada Loafers
47. Prada Boots
48. Gucci Slides
49. Gucci Horsebit Sandals
50. Maison Mihara Yasuhiro Sneakers
51. Timberland Boots
52. Golden Goose Sneakers

T-SHIRTS / JACKETS / TRACKSUITS:

1. Stone Island Hoodie
2. Stone Island T-shirt
3. Palm Angels Tracksuit
4. The North Face Puffer Jacket
5. Balmain T-shirts
6. Canada Goose Vest
7. Balenciaga BB Logo T-shirt
8. Nike Tech Fleece
9. Gucci Spray Letters T-shirt
10. LV Skeleton T-shirt
11. Ralph Laurent Bear T-Shirt
12. Ralph Laurent Polo T-shirt
13. Off-White T-shirts
14. Stussy Hoodie
15. Lacoste T-shirt
16. Vlone Friends T-shirt
17. Vlone Flames Logo T-shirt
18. More Vlone T-shirts
19. Rhude T-shirt
20. The North Face Vest
21. The North Face x Brain Dead Jacket
22. Fendi Puffer Jacket
23. Prada Zip Pocket T-shirt
24. Prada Puffer Jacket
25. Drew House Hoodie
26. Louis Vuitton Patch T-shirt
27. Palm Angels Pattern Tracksuit
28. Palm Angels Bear T-shirt
29. Palm Angels Back Logo T-shirt
30. Palm Angels Spray Heart T-shirt
31. More Palm Angels T-shirts
32. Sp5der 555 Hoodie
33. Sp5der T-shirt
34. The North Face Light Jacket
35. Moose Knuckles Jackets
36. Ralph Lauren Zip Hoodie
37. Polo Ralph Lauren Jumper
38. Ralph Laurent Collared Shirts
39. Lacoste Polo T-Shirt
40. Balmain Sweatshirt
41. Burberry Rider T-shirt
42. Bottegga Veneta T-shirt
43. Canada Goose Jacket
44. Trapstar Irongate Jacket
45. Trapstar Tracksuit Set
46. Trapstar Black And Yellow Set
47. Trapstar Shooters Tracksuit Set
48. Trapstar Summer Set
49. Gucci Tiger T-shirt
50. Fendi T-shirts
51. Bape Shark Hoodie
52. Bape Camo Logo T-shirt
53. Bape x Undefeated T-Shirt
54. Bape x Heron Preston T-shirt
55. Nike x Fear Of God T-shirt
56. FOG Essentials T-shirt
57. Gucci Snake Polo T-shirt
58. Gucci Bear T-shirt
59. Comme Des Garcons Hoodie
60. Comme Des Garcons Sweatshirt
61. Comme des Garçons T-shirt
62. More cdg T-shirts
63. Gap x Balenciaga Hoodie
64. Balenciaga Sweater
65. Balenciaga Hoodies
66. Balenciaga Reflective Logo T-shirt
67. Adidas x Balenciaga T-shirt
68. Balenciaga Logo Hoodie
69. Balenciaga Spray Logo T-shirt
70. Balenciaga I Love Paris T-shirt
71. More Balenciaga T-shirts
72. Kenzo Flower T-shirt
73. Boss T-shirt
74. Celine Hoodie
75. Chrome Hearts Dagger Hoodie
76. Chrome Hearts Longsleeve
77. Gallery Dept T-shirt
78. Gallery Dept Hoodie
79. Stone Island Longsleeve
80. Stone Island Zip Hoodie
81. Trapstar Summer Outfit
82. Louis Vuitton T-shirts
83. Louis Vuitton Camo Logo T-shirt
84. Nocta Jacket Nike
85. Fendi Eyes T-shirt
86. More Fendi T-shirts
87. Rhude Racing Team T-shirt
88. CPFM YE Must Be Born Again Hoodie
89. Kids See Ghosts Hoodie Kanye West
90. Amiri T-shirts
91. Bape Shoes
92. More Amiri T-shirts
93. Moncler Polo T-shirt
94. Moncler Sweatshirt
95. Versace Robe
96. Balmain Denim Jacket
97. C.P Company Zip Up
98. Represent T-shirt
99. Gucci Polo T-shirt
100. Gucci T-shirt
101. More Gucci T-shirts
102. Kith T-shirts
103. Prada Triangle Logo T-shirt
104. Prada Sweater
105. Paris Shirt
106. Prada Vest
107. More Moncler Jackets
108. Palm Angels T Shirt
109. Gucci Pattern Polo T-shirt
110. Another Ralph Laurent Hoodie
111. Moschino Italy Bear T-shirt
112. More VLONE T-shirts
113. Christian Dior Atelier T-shirt
114. Prada Puffer Jacket
115. Louis Vuitton Puffer Jacket
116. Louis Vuitton University Jackets
117. Revenge Hoodie
118. Revenge T-shirts
119. Philip Plein T-shirts
120. Nike x Fear Of God T-shirt
121. Louis Vuitton Knit T-shirt
122. Drake Nocta Hoodie
123. PSG Tracksuits
124. The North Face x Gucci Jacket
125. North Face Puffer Jacket
126. Stone Island Longsleeve
127. Bape Shark Hoodie
128. Trapstar Irongate Jacket
129. Nike Tech Fleece
130. Prada Jacket
131. LV University T-shirt
132. Canada Goose Jacket
133. Amiri T-shirt
134. Ralph Lauren Polo
135. The North Face x Gucci Jacket
136. Bottega Veneta T-shirts
137. Supreme x The North Face Jacket
138. Balenciaga Chrome Letters Hoodie
139. Celine Zip Hoodie
140. Prada T-shirt
141. Rhude T-shirt
142. Trapstar IRONGATE T-shirt
143. More Gucci T-shirts
144. Balenciaga Hoodies
145. Vlone Flames T-shirt
146. Balenciaga Print Logo Hoodie
147. Gucci T-shirt
148. Balmain T-shirt
149. Palm Angels T-shirt
150. Fendi T-shirts
151. Celine Tie Dye T-shirt
152. Bape Flowers T-shirt
153. More Vlone T-shirts
154. Balenciaga Sweater
155. Amiri T-shirt
156. Astroworld Hoodie
157. Pian Sicko T-Shirt
158. LV x NBA Jacket
159. LV Varsity Jacket
160. LV Skeleton T-Shirt
161. LV Patch T-Shirt
162. LV Blue Bubble Font T-Shirt
163. Burberry T-Shirt
164. Bape Hoodie
165. Bape Black Head T-Shirt
166. Bape Alphabet Crystal T-Shirt
167. Bape X Warrior T-Shirt
168. The North Face 700 Nuptse Jacket
169. The North Face Nuptse Fleece Jacket
170. The North Face Light Jacket
171. Canada Goose Wyndham Jacket
172. Lacoste Jacket
173. Moncler Maya
174. Moncler Montca Jacket
175. Polo Raulph Lauren Sweater
176. Polo Raulp Lauren Tracksuit
177. Stone Island Long Sleeve
178. Stone Island Hoodie
179. Stone Island T-Shirt
180. Vlone Friends T-Shirt
181. Fear Of God Tracksuit
182. Prada Puffer Jacket
183. Syna World Tracksuit
184. Trapstar set summer
185. Gucci Tracksuit
186. Spider Hoodies - Tracksuit
187. Spider T-Shirt
188. Gallery Dept T-Shirt
189. Trapstar Irongate Jacket
190. Trapstar T-Shirt - Summer set
191. Trapstar Shooters Tracksuit
192. Trapstar Irongate Tracksuit
193. More Trapstar Tracksuit
194. Balenciaga Hoodie
195. Balenciaga Sweater
196. Balenciaga Print Logo Hoodie
197. PSG Tracksuit
198. Palm Angels T-Shirt
199. Palm Angels Bear T-Shirt
200. Amiri 22 Hoodie
201. Amiri T-Shirt
202. Amiri Cupid T-Shirt
203. Nike Windbreaker
204. Nike X Nocta Techfleece
205. Nike Techfleece set
206. Corteiz Tracksuit

PANTS / JEANS:

1. Eric Emanuel EE Shorts
2. Corteiz Cargo Pants
3. Essentials Sweatpants
4. Rhude Shorts
5. Gallery Dept. Sweatpants
6. Stone Island Cargo Pants
7. Lululemon Yoga Pants
8. Flower Jeans
9. True Religion Jeans
10. Gucci Shorts
11. More Amiri
12. Stone Island Sweatpants
13. Stone Island Shorts
14. Balmain Jeans
15. DSQARED2 Jeans
16. Amiri Jeans
17. Amiri Angel Jeans
18. Dsquared2 Jeans
19. Bape Shorts
20. Palm Angels Shorts
21. Eric Emanuel EE Shorts
22. Essential Sweatpants
23. Essential Shorts
24. Stone Island Shorts
25. Spider Sweatpants
26. Trapstar Shorts
27. Gucci Shorts
28. Burberry Shorts
29. LV Carpenter Pants
30. LV Carpenter Pants Black
31. Corteiz Cargo Pants
32. Gallery Dept Sweatpants
33. Flower Jeans
34. Flower Shorts
35. Palm Angels Shorts
36. Bape Shorts
37. Amiri Jeans
38. Amiri x Skull Jeans
39. Purple Jeans
40. Polo Swimshorts
41. Chrome Hearts Jeans
42. Amiri Jeans
43. Stone Island Shorts
44. Dsquared Jeans
45. Bape Shark Shorts
46. Rhude Shorts
47. Palm Angels Track Pants
48. Palm Angels Shorts
49. Corteiz Cargo Pants
50. Amiri Stars Jeans

ACCESSORIES / OTHERS:

1. Louis Vuitton LV Belt With Box
2. Rolex Watch With Box and Receipts
3. AP Watch With Box
4. MCM Backpack
5. Swatch x Omega Planets Watch
6. Gucci Shoulder Bag
7. Prada Shoulder Bag
8. BB Simons Belt
9. LV Gradient Belt
10. LV Pattern Belt
11. Yves Saint Laurent Wallet
12. Yves Saint Laurent Cardholder
13. YSL Bifold Wallet
14. Trapstar Irongate Shoulder Bag
15. PSD Boxers
16. Louis Vuitton Messenger Bag
17. Salvatore Ferragamo Belt
18. LV Wallets with box
19. Hermes Wallet
20. Louis Vuitton Cuban Link Bracelet With Box
21. LV Women wallet with box
22. LV Scarf And Beanie set
23. Burberry Scarf
24. Iced Out Cuban Link
25. Goyard St. Louis Tote Bag
26. Christian Dior Saddle Bag
27. Gucci GG Belt
28. Gucci Snake Belt
29. Gucci Snake Printed Belt
30. Gucci Ring
31. Gucci Keychain
32. Dior Pattern Belt
33. MCM Pattern Belt
34. Hermes Belt
35. Versace Belt
36. Nike Socks
37. Supreme Backpack
38. Louis Vuitton Backpack
39. Alyx Backpack
40. Supreme Shoulder Bag
41. Supreme Face Mask
42. Supreme Dice
43. Air Pods Max
44. Balenciaga Socks
45. Prada Necklace
46. Prada Bucket Hat
47. Marc Jacobs The Tote Bag
48. Chanel Flap Bag
49. Louis Vuitton Card Holder
50. Louis Vuitton Pattern Duffle Bag
51. Louis Vuitton Transparent Duffle Bag
52. Louis Vuitton Chain Wallet
53. Lv Purse
54. LV Waist Bag
55. LV Alpha Messenger Bag
56. Hermes Blanket
57. Hermes Pillows
58. Gucci Towel Set
59. Louis Vuitton Wool Blanket
60. Chanel Bath Towels
61. Chanel Sunglasses
62. Celine Cat Eye Sunglasses
63. Celine Hat
64. MCM Leather Hat
65. ICON Hat
66. Amiri Hat
67. Gucci Hat
68. Gucci Snake Hat
69. Prada Hat
70. Burberry Hat
71. Coach Tabby Pillow Bag
72. Bottega Cassette Crossbody Bag
73. Vevine Westwood Necklace
74. LV Millionaire Sunglasses
75. LV Cyclone Sunglasses
76. LV Ring
77. LV Earrings
78. LV Emilie Wallet
79. Various LV Bags
80. LV Sunglasses
81. LV Keychain
82. Chanel Earrings
83. Clear Cartier Glasses
84. Cartier Nail Bracelet
85. UGG Gloves
86. Tiffany Bracelet
87. Tiffany Hearts Ring
88. Tiffany Solitaire Ring
89. Tiffany Earrings
90. C.P COMPANY Beanie
91. Canada Goose Beanie
92. Prada Beanie
93. Louis Vuitton Beanie
94. Balenciaga Beanie
95. Gucci Shocks
96. Balenciaga Side Logo Hat
97. BB Simons Belt
98. Gucci Shoulder Bag (MEN)
99. Trapstar Ironsgate Shoulder Bag
100. LV Scarf & Beanie Set
101. Airpods Pro / 2nd Gen / 3d Gen
102. LV Gradient Shiny Belt
103. Hermes Belt
104. Balenciaga Hat
105. Gucci Pattern Hat
106. Gucci GG Belt
107. Unisex Prada Sunglasses
108. Rolex Watch (With Box & Receipt)
109. Cartier Clear Glasses
110. Dsquared ICON Hat
111. Rolex Watch (With box)
112. Rolex Datejust (With box)
113. Rolex Daydate (With box)
114. Patek Phillipe Watch (With box)
115. AP Watch (With box)
116. BB Simons Belt
117. LV Crossbody Purse
118. LV Messenger Bag
119. LV Messenger Bag 2
120. LV Cardholder
121. LV Sling Backpack
122. LV Wallet
123. LV Scarf
124. LV Sunglasses
125. MCM Backpack
126. Gucci Belt
127. Gucci Snake Belt
128. Gucci GG Wallet
129. Gucci Wallet
130. Gucci Pouch
131. Goyard Cardholder
132. Goyard Wallet
133. OFF-White Rug
134. Prada Hats
135. Prada Phonecase
136. Prada Messenger Bag
137. More Prada Bags
138. Prada Sunglasses
139. New Era 59FIFTY Hat
140. Nike Socks
141. Cartier Glasses
142. Crease Protectors

Bags

• Celine Phantom Bag $129.99
• Chloe Hudson Bag $197.52(another option, the leather looks good)
• Miu Miu Matelasse Flap Bag $67.21
• Gucci Lady Web Crossbody
• Gucci Marmont Med
• LV Keepall Duffle Bag
• LV Speedy Mini
• LV Toiletry Pouch Giant Monogram
• LV TwistIf you order, be sure to ask seller about the twist lock. There is a recurring flaw of the DHG reps spinning 360. I also posted a review of this bag from designerpurse, and their lock functions correctly
• Prada Belt Bag
• Prada Black Nylon Tote
• Prada Small Black Messenger
• YSL Classic Sac de Jour
• YSL Kate Tassel Bag

Shoes

1. Gucci Chevron Espadrilles $69.49 ( goes up to size 42)
2. LV Lace-Up Winter Fur Boots $79.65 (goes up to size 42; cute boots, I’m not sure if these are fantasy?)
3. Christian Louboutin Pira Ryad Wedge Sandals 6cm/12cm heel both $69.41 (loads of different color-ways)
4. Christian Louboutin Suede Pumps 8cm/10cm/12cm heel $76.36 (only comes in black)

Tops

1. Balenciaga Logo T-Shirt $22.66
2. Balmain Crewneck Sweatshirt
3. Polo Bear T-shirt
4. Versace Medusa Top
5. YSL Star Crewneck Pullover

Sunglasses

• Celine Cat-Eye Sunglasses 41468S $53.44(very very stylish! ❤️)
• Gucci Oversized Sunglasses GG0061S $41.68

Headwear and Accessories

• Gucci Silk Headband $13.18Chanel/Dior Headband $17.00 ( worth buying )
• Fur-Trim Parka Winter Coat $76.31 (not sure if this is designer, but it's a pretty coat!)

Sets

• Gucci Underwear Set $26.30(comes in two different styles; a user gave this a positive review here )

Jewelry

1. Bulgari Serpent Ring
2. Pandora Charm Bracelet

Here are some extra Items

1. Nike x Drake Hot Step Air Terra nocta
2. Essentials Hoodie
3. Trapstar Shooters Tracksuit
4. The Tote Bag
5. Prada Loafers
6. Iced Out Cuban Link
7. Gucci Hat
8. MCM Hat
9. Nocta Hoodies
10. Louis Vuitton Ring
11. Nike Socks
12. PSG Tracksuit

But I want to! So first idea that I would like to do - a toddler dress. Either held single or double but I think held double might be too heavy?
Which leads to my first question: what weight range is sultan held single and double? I know it says sport but if I used small needles and held double or big needles and held single, could I get dk? Would held double be worsted or worsted/aran? I don't need exact answers on this front, just your experience and some ideas!
Also if you have a suggestion on a toddler summer dress pattern for sultan, link me please!
My other question is about a pattern for myself. So I'm working on the ripple worsted crop top and I wanna knit it again in sultan but a bit more cropped. Now I've read that cotton doesn't stretch much and is not a good choice for ribbing. Should I not use it for this pattern? Do you have a better yarn suggestion for this pattern that's lightweight for summer?
The alternative would be to use sultan for the framework bralette.