For context, I had an emergency ileostomy back in Nov 23 and I am unable to eat nuts or food with nuts in as my ostomy struggles to pass them and it causes issues.
So my parents and grandparents came up to visit last weekend (they live south west England & I live in Nottinghamshire) and my nan bless her heart, made me a coffee and walnut cake but she forgot that I couldn’t have nuts and put walnuts through the entire cake. Not a problem, my partner had half and I sent the other half round to our neighbours.
I was talking to a friend about the situation (she asked how my family were etc) and her sister must have read the message as I got a lengthy message about how I should stop faking having a nut allergy as there are people like her who genuinely suffer & have to have a strict diet. I explained that no, I’m not allergic but I’m unable to have nuts due to having a ostomy bag but she was adamant that I was over reacting and using it for attention as no one really cares about me having my surgery anymore (again, for context, I originally went in for a simple surgery but there was a complication and I had to undergo several surgeries afterwards and was put into a coma for a month). I asked my friend if she could explain it to her better as my anxiety was not helping me explain it very well and I was struggling to communicate properly & she said it’s just her sister being weird but it really got to me as she was posting about it on Facebook how people fake allergies for attention and how it’s a sign of lack of attention etc.
Sorry for the silly rant, it just annoyed me as I wouldn’t do something like that for attention & believe me, I love cashews and Brazil nuts, and obviously my nans coffee and walnut cake so having to miss out on a lot of foods because of the bag. I also cannot have mushrooms or sweetcorn so no more chicken and mushroom pot noodles 😢

Hola. Busco una tienda para comprar una cafetera como este tipo pero en inox.
https://www.rossetticasalinghi.com/product/rossetti-mio-moka-italian-6-espresso-cup-black-induction-moka-coffee-espresso-maker-pot/
Gracias!!

So I can't seem to brew a decent cup of coffee with the Moka Pot. So asking for help, what are your tricks and tips, anything that I can try?
TIA

Looking for some advice and this seemed like a great place to ask!
We own a small independent pizza shop, and are working on opening up a coffee shop for my wife. Not on the restaurant Equipment business.
I recently saw the Red Lobster Auctions and while I didn't need 90% of the stuff, I saw a great opportunity to get a full POS, lots of plates, smallwares, etc, for a deal.
We actually were outbid but the winner failed to pay so it was offered to us. Awesome! Except then the trouble started.
The auctions were listed as Entire Restaurant Contents. There was a "Sample" inventory list but it was noted that items would vary by location. In the photos on the auction were two items of great interest: A large Ice Maker and a Conveyor Dish Washer.
Thursday evening I contacted two movers who specialized in restaurants (which actually cost significantly more than the auction itself), due to all the stuff being listed as having to be our by end of day Friday. Then I was told the pickup window was actually only 6 hours (9 AM to 3 PM), no big deal though, hired one more mover.
Next bit of trouble came after paying for the auction, which is when they sent an exclusions list. On it there were two exclusions of concern: Dishwashers (if Eco Lab Branded) and Ice Makers in some locations. I verified the pictures of the Dishwasher, no Eco Lab branding, phew. Verified that the ice maker was not only in the list of items but also in the pictures. Figure my location must not exclude it, otherwise why show 5 pictures detailing it.
Then my team arrives. Everything is gone except for the big equipment. The televisions at the bar, the pots, pans, cleaning supplies, smallwares, blenders, mixer. The only things left was the large equipment, most of which was connected, and tables / booths.
For reference on this next parts, my bid on live auction was on Monday, this was now Friday. Two representatives were on site: The old General Manager representating Red Lobster, and a sub contractor representing the interests of the auction company.
When asked about all the missing equipment, the General Manager said they bought a large dumpster on Wednesday and all her team came in and threw everything away in the dumpster, which was already gone. Extremely unlikely, as I doubt Red Lobster would spend the money to throw away items that they're auctioning off. It got even weirder when "employees" showed up and were overheard talking about picking up items from the restaurant.
While my team leader tried to sort all of that out, the rest of my guys went to work on disassembling items. Except, Everytime they touched something (undercounter bar cooler, bar taps, booths, etc) they were told, "Oh no, that's not included," or, "Someone else already bought that."
After about 2 hours of back and forth, the on site representation finally conceded to let us take MOST of the stuff that was still there (which wasn't much). Because of the now reduced time of only 4 hours, most of the valuable stuff being gone already, and the high end items like the dishwasher and ice machine now being excluded, we only filled 2 of the 3 trucks.
I have called the auction company and apparently they said that my experience was not alone, and they were currently having a warroom on what to do next because of all the issues. They said they will likely have some solutions in how to make it right on Monday. The representative on site tried to get my team to sign a waiver of liability before leaving, but we refused.
What can I expect from this process now, and do I have any legal recourse? I would have thought that the buildings would have been secured to prevent theft while the auction was going on but obviously not. My biggest concern is that, while my costs weren't horrible at 15k, only $5500 was to the actual auction, the rest was to transportation. I certainly have concerns now that I won't be able to make my money back, let alone a profit. I know that it's a gamble, but I feel like this experience was borderline fraudulent. Any suggestions?
ETA:
If nothing else, I feel like the auction violates the law in my state (Florida), as there is a statute that covers misrepresenting facts. Specifically FSS 468.388 Subsection 11b 1 through 3 which reads:
No licensed auctioneer, apprentice, or auction business may disseminate or cause to be disseminated any advertisement or advertising which is false, deceptive, misleading, or untruthful. Any advertisement or advertising shall be deemed to be false, deceptive, misleading, or untruthful if it:
1. Contains misrepresentations of facts.
2. Is misleading or deceptive because, in its content or in the context in which it is presented, it makes only a partial disclosure of relevant facts.
3. Creates false or unjustified expectations of the services to be performed.
The auctions were listed as Entire contents, with the only exclusions listed on the auction in the terms being "Photos may show items that are not included in auction (e.g., infrastructure, HVAC, plumbing, etc."
Here's the link for anyone interested in how it was presented
https://bid.restaurantequipment.bid/Public/Auction/AuctionItemDetail?AuctionItemId=NZQh8wj3FOYwR439WdiUvw%3d%3d&AuctionId=S5YS%2bHqu8A9zcHp0d1tyMg%3d%3d&pageNumber=WddRnDis30ojx01x46RicQ%3d%3d&pageSize=WddRnDis30ojx01x46RicQ%3d%3d

Looking for some advice and this seemed like a great place to ask!
We own a small independent pizza shop, and are working on opening up a coffee shop for my wife. Not on the restaurant Equipment business.
I recently saw the Red Lobster Auctions and while I didn't need 90% of the stuff, I saw a great opportunity to get a full POS, lots of plates, smallwares, etc, for a deal.
We actually were outbid but the winner failed to pay so it was offered to us. Awesome! Except then the trouble started.
The auctions were listed as Entire Restaurant Contents. There was a "Sample" inventory list but it was noted that items would vary by location. In the photos on the auction were two items of great interest: A large Ice Maker and a Conveyor Dish Washer.
Thursday evening I contacted two movers who specialized in restaurants (which actually cost significantly more than the auction itself), due to all the stuff being listed as having to be our by end of day Friday. Then I was told the pickup window was actually only 6 hours (9 AM to 3 PM), no big deal though, hired one more mover.
Next bit of trouble came after paying for the auction, which is when they sent an exclusions list. On it there were two exclusions of concern: Dishwashers (if Eco Lab Branded) and Ice Makers in some locations. I verified the pictures of the Dishwasher, no Eco Lab branding, phew. Verified that the ice maker was not only in the list of items but also in the pictures. Figure my location must not exclude it, otherwise why show 5 pictures detailing it.
Then my team arrives. Everything is gone except for the big equipment. The televisions at the bar, the pots, pans, cleaning supplies, smallwares, blenders, mixer. The only things left was the large equipment, most of which was connected, and tables / booths.
For reference on this next parts, my bid on live auction was on Monday, this was now Friday. Two representatives were on site: The old General Manager representating Red Lobster, and a sub contractor representing the interests of the auction company.
When asked about all the missing equipment, the General Manager said they bought a large dumpster on Wednesday and all her team came in and threw everything away in the dumpster, which was already gone. Extremely unlikely, as I doubt Red Lobster would spend the money to throw away items that they're auctioning off. It got even weirder when "employees" showed up and were overheard talking about picking up items from the restaurant.
While my team leader tried to sort all of that out, the rest of my guys went to work on disassembling items. Except, Everytime they touched something (undercounter bar cooler, bar taps, booths, etc) they were told, "Oh no, that's not included," or, "Someone else already bought that."
After about 2 hours of back and forth, the on site representation finally conceded to let us take MOST of the stuff that was still there (which wasn't much). Because of the now reduced time of only 4 hours, most of the valuable stuff being gone already, and the high end items like the dishwasher and ice machine now being excluded, we only filled 2 of the 3 trucks.
I have called the auction company and apparently they said that my experience was not alone, and they were currently having a warroom on what to do next because of all the issues. They said they will likely have some solutions in how to make it right on Monday. The representative on site tried to get my team to sign a waiver of liability before leaving, but we refused.
What can I expect from this process now, and do I have any legal recourse? I would have thought that the buildings would have been secured to prevent theft while the auction was going on but obviously not. My biggest concern is that, while my costs weren't horrible at 15k, only $5500 was to the actual auction, the rest was to transportation. I certainly have concerns now that I won't be able to make my money back, let alone a profit. I know that it's a gamble, but I feel like this experience was borderline fraudulent. Any suggestions?
ETA:
If nothing else, I feel like the auction violates the law in my state (Florida), as there is a statute that covers misrepresenting facts. Specifically FSS 468.388 Subsection 11b 1 through 3 which reads:
No licensed auctioneer, apprentice, or auction business may disseminate or cause to be disseminated any advertisement or advertising which is false, deceptive, misleading, or untruthful. Any advertisement or advertising shall be deemed to be false, deceptive, misleading, or untruthful if it:
1. Contains misrepresentations of facts.
2. Is misleading or deceptive because, in its content or in the context in which it is presented, it makes only a partial disclosure of relevant facts.
3. Creates false or unjustified expectations of the services to be performed.
The auctions were listed as Entire contents, with the only exclusions listed on the auction in the terms being "Photos may show items that are not included in auction (e.g., infrastructure, HVAC, plumbing, etc."
Here's the link for anyone interested in how it was presented
https://bid.restaurantequipment.bid/Public/Auction/AuctionItemDetail?AuctionItemId=NZQh8wj3FOYwR439WdiUvw%3d%3d&AuctionId=S5YS%2bHqu8A9zcHp0d1tyMg%3d%3d&pageNumber=WddRnDis30ojx01x46RicQ%3d%3d&pageSize=WddRnDis30ojx01x46RicQ%3d%3d

We see a magical monster jump around a bloody building happily. It seemed extremely happy as it found the manager of the building who threw things like pencils, papers, and a chair at it but nothing in the office could harm this creature.
Creature: Nehehe! Kahahahahahaha!
Manager: HELP! HELP MEEEEE! HELP ME NOW!
The creature went to grab the man but its arm was cut off at impossible speeds. It gasped in shock. Even the man couldn’t tell what happened as he looked around the room and saw an older woman.
Woman: Heh… monsters like this have been popping up a lot. Tell me assassin what might be the cause?
The creature would regrow its arm and send a raw blast of pure mana at the woman who would easily step out of the way. A woman in a white multi-layered kimono with black hair appeared behind the monster and stabbed it through the throat.
Creature: NEGHEGharajafa!
It turned into dust being easily killed by the black haired assassin.
Assassin: I presume it’s the work of a servant and or master.
Woman: That’s correct! Good job!
Assassin: So you already know the cause behind this?
Woman: Correct! I even know the servant and master responsible!
Assassin: Alright then…
Manager: What’s going on?! What’s happening?!
Woman: Assassin.
Assassin: Yes master.
She threw her dagger into the manager's skull killing him in an instant. Assassin sighed at her order and the kill. She picked up the dagger before placing it back within the scroll she normally used to conceal the small blade.
Assassin: Master who did this?
Woman: I'm not telling~
Assassin: Ugh… fine then master.
The two women walked out of the office building the master smiling brightly.
Woman: Hmm… I wonder what Saber’s master is doing?
Assassin: Is he of interest?
Woman: I knew his father! Would you be a dear and spy on him for me assassin?
Assassin: As you wish master…
Assassin bowed and quickly disappeared leaving the woman all alone as she laughed to herself.

Leo was reading a comic book while lying on his busted-up blue couch. He didn't have a single thought on his mind aside from the words and the images placed on each page.
Just then Ky walked into the room with an immaculate keychain in his hand. He held it up and passed it towards Leo who grabbed it as it flew above his head.
Ky: Here it was made back in Japan’s Heien Era.
Leo: What is it?
Ky: A cursed chain. While you have low mana it converts the lack of mana you have into physical strength. Therefore-
Leo: I can be super strong!
Ky: Basically. Just keep it in your pockets. I had the pull a lot of strings to get this from my sensei.

Elegant: You want it? Beat Shine in hand to hand! No powers just skills!
Ky: HOW AM I MEANT TO DO THAT?!

Ky: Ugh…
Leo would shove the chain back into his hoodie pocket. He gave a bright smile and placed his comic book down crossing his arms and leaning over the back of his couch.
Leo: So! What is the plan to win this war?
Ky: We need to get you trained up preferably. And we need to exterminate every master in the war.
Leo: Can’t we just… let them all kill one another and pick the last guy off?
Ky: Nope. Most likely they'll come for you while you try this strategy anyway. Even worse is the possibility the final master and servant standing could be an extremely bad matchup for Saber.
Leo: I guess you're right…
Ky: Now then… GUNPOWDER!
Guns appeared behind Ky who shot at a wall next to the bullet manifested the black-haired assassin servant.
Ky: Assassin!
Leo: Oh shit!
Ky’s technique is “Mental Recreation” This powerful ability has him use up his mana to create objects based on certain topics. These topics are gunpowder, transportation, death, nature, and war. These objects are limited to what Ky subconsciously associates with these words whenever he hears them. He can summon these objects with a hand sign or by saying the topic of origin. However, he can not create actual life. But his technique is based on his own interpretation. So if learns to interpret his limits differently his technique will respond in kind!
Ky: Death!
Skeletons appear from the floor but Assassin cuts both their heads off in a moment using her scroll.
Leo: Woah… she's fast…
Ky: If I had to wager a guess… I would say she's faster than Saber and closer in speed to Lancer.
Leo: You can tell that just by her attacking once?!
Ky: I am good with my eyes…
Leo: Saber!
Saber from the front porch came rushing into the living room switching from her casual clothes to her armor and pulling out her misty blade ready to fight.
Assassin: It would seem I'm outnumbered.
Ky: Wow she can even count!
Leo: Why are you even hear?
Assassin: I am here solely on orders from my master. I have no intention of fighting but if you force me to…
Leo: Oh fuck that!
Leo went to punch her in the face and Assassin ducked under grabbing him by the throat and personally slamming him through a wall the sunlight now radiating through the hole made within the wall.
Ky: Gunpowered!
A canon ball appeared a mere 2 inches from Assassin’s face and the second the canon shot she managed to dodge out of the way within an instant. She ran up and shoved the scroll into Ky’s shoulder stabbing through and making him bleed as she jumped onto the coffee table.
Ky: Damn it… some kind of concealed blade…
Saber: I don't wish to destroy Leo’s home… but I want to take out Assassin as soon as possible!
Saber sighed and rushed forward at incredible speeds that still were outmatched by Assassin who managed to dodge each slice of her blade before kicking Saber in the gut before roundhouse kicking her in the face sending her into another wall and cracking it.
Assassin: Strong as you all are I'm simply too fast for you all.
Leo then just grabbed a potted plant in the corner of his room as she wasn't paying him any attention and hit her in the back of the head with it stunning her so Saber could get back up, run, and stab Assassin in the shoulder.
Assassin: AHHHH!
Assassin cut Saber’s arm and elbowed Leo in the face before running out of the hole in the wall she made earlier.
Saber: Master!
Leo: What did I say about calling- actually I do not care…
Saber ran towards Leo who'd been sent to the ground on his ass. He seemed fine as he stood up holding onto Saber.
Leo: I am fine don't worry ok?
Saber: If you insist master! But should I give chase to Assassin?
Ky: Would not recommend it. She's clearly highly skilled. Even if you are probably stronger than her chasing her down might be a bad idea.
Leo: Yeah what Ky said! But what am I gonna do? Am I not safe in my own home now?
Saber: I'm afraid it seems you are not Leo…

Assassin walked into a large mansion on top of a hill and entered a bedroom.
Assassin: Master!
The woman turned to her with a sly grin pasted upon her face. She was currently sitting on her wooden chair while writing something in a notebook.
Woman: Assassin!
Assassin: I am afraid they spotted me rather quickly.
Woman: Did you kill any?
Assassin: No master…
Woman: Perfect! I don't want them to die before they know my name… Isda!
Assassin: Why?
Isda: That is for me to know Assassin! Me and me alone!

Gilgamesh sat upon his throne. Among all masters and servants in the holy grail war, he alone stood as the honored one. He viewed through on of Pat’s crystal balls the events that transpired between Assassin and Leo’s group.
Gilgamesh: That Saber… she's quite strong. Even with the master holding her down. And the Assassin is quite boring to me.
Pat: A-Archer-
Gilgamesh: You know nobody is watching us use my true name peasant!
Pat: Forgive me Gilgamesh! But why are we sitting in this pocket dimension?!
Gilgamesh: Simply to protect you from getting killed. You are quite weak and well I won't have any fun if you die. Even I can't sustain myself without a master!
Pat: O-oh I see…
Gilgamesh truly was a king!

So back in August, I (M28) met this girl (F25) on OkCupid. We chatted for a few days, before agreeing to meet for coffee. Coffee date went well. We decided to go in a second date (a picnic). Towards the end of the second date, she admitted that she was a virgin. I figured this wasn’t that big of a deal. We started dating!a few weeks later.
The first time she came over to my place, we slept with each other. It was ok. I mean I’ve definitely had worse. But this girl is sweet, and I really care about her. In the following months, we have only had sex a handful of times (less than 20). I want us to be intimate more often but I’m unsure of how I should go about addressing this.
Here’s the thing, I have a relatively high libido. I view physical intimacy as the ultimate form of love. You’re pledging your naked soul to someone and I just find that really deep. But whenever I bring up the idea of physical intimacy my girlfriend doesn’t want to.
Another issue that I feel may be contributing to the lack of intimacy in our relationship is my girlfriends health. My girlfriend has POTS, so she usually feels awful. She goes for a weekly injection but that doesn’t help.
I love my girlfriend, and I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I want us to be intimate more often but I’m unsure of how I should go about addressing this.

First Time Restaurant Equipment went very wrong. What now?
Looking for some advice and this seemed like a great place to ask!
We own a small independent pizza shop, and are working on opening up a coffee shop for my wife. Not on the restaurant Equipment business.
I recently saw the Red Lobster Auctions and while I didn't need 90% of the stuff, I saw a great opportunity to get a full POS, lots of plates, smallwares, etc, for a deal.
We actually were outbid but the winner failed to pay so it was offered to us. Awesome! Except then the trouble started.
The auctions were listed as Entire Restaurant Contents. There was a "Sample" inventory list but it was noted that items would vary by location. In the photos on the auction were two items of great interest: A large Ice Maker and a Conveyor Dish Washer.
Thursday evening I contacted two movers who specialized in restaurants (which actually cost significantly more than the auction itself), due to all the stuff being listed as having to be our by end of day Friday. Then I was told the pickup window was actually only 6 hours (9 AM to 3 PM), no big deal though, hired one more mover.
Next bit of trouble came after paying for the auction, which is when they sent an exclusions list. On it there were two exclusions of concern: Dishwashers (if Eco Lab Branded) and Ice Makers in some locations. I verified the pictures of the Dishwasher, no Eco Lab branding, phew. Verified that the ice maker was not only in the list of items but also in the pictures. Figure my location must not exclude it, otherwise why show 5 pictures detailing it.
Then my team arrives. Everything is gone except for the big equipment. The televisions at the bar, the pots, pans, cleaning supplies, smallwares, blenders, mixer. The only things left was the large equipment, most of which was connected, and tables / booths.
For reference on this next parts, my bid on live auction was on Monday, this was now Friday. Two representatives were on site: The old General Manager representating Red Lobster, and a sub contractor representing the interests of the auction company.
When asked about all the missing equipment, the General Manager said they bought a large dumpster on Wednesday and all her team came in and threw everything away in the dumpster, which was already gone. Extremely unlikely, as I doubt Red Lobster would spend the money to throw away items that they're auctioning off. It got even weirder when "employees" showed up and were overheard talking about picking up items from the restaurant.
While my team leader tried to sort all of that out, the rest of my guys went to work on disassembling items. Except, Everytime they touched something (undercounter bar cooler, bar taps, booths, etc) they were told, "Oh no, that's not included," or, "Someone else already bought that."
After about 2 hours of back and forth, the on site representation finally conceded to let us take MOST of the stuff that was still there (which wasn't much). Because of the now reduced time of only 4 hours, most of the valuable stuff being gone already, and the high end items like the dishwasher and ice machine now being excluded, we only filled 2 of the 3 trucks.
I have called the auction company and apparently they said that my experience was not alone, and they were currently having a warroom on what to do next because of all the issues. They said they will likely have some solutions in how to make it right on Monday. The representative on site tried to get my team to sign a waiver of liability before leaving, but we refused.
What can I expect from this process now, and do I have any legal recourse? I would have thought that the buildings would have been secured to prevent theft while the auction was going on but obviously not. My biggest concern is that, while my costs weren't horrible at 15k, only $5500 was to the actual auction, the rest was to transportation. I certainly have concerns now that I won't be able to make my money back, let alone a profit. I know that it's a gamble, but I feel like this experience was borderline fraudulent. Any suggestions?
ETA:
If nothing else, I feel like the auction violates the law in my state (Florida), as there is a statute that covers misrepresenting facts. Specifically FSS 468.388 Subsection 11b 1 through 3 which reads:
No licensed auctioneer, apprentice, or auction business may disseminate or cause to be disseminated any advertisement or advertising which is false, deceptive, misleading, or untruthful. Any advertisement or advertising shall be deemed to be false, deceptive, misleading, or untruthful if it:
1. Contains misrepresentations of facts.
2. Is misleading or deceptive because, in its content or in the context in which it is presented, it makes only a partial disclosure of relevant facts.
3. Creates false or unjustified expectations of the services to be performed.
The auctions were listed as Entire contents, with the only exclusions listed on the auction in the terms being "Photos may show items that are not included in auction (e.g., infrastructure, HVAC, plumbing, etc."
Here's the link for anyone interested in how it was presented
https://bid.restaurantequipment.bid/Public/Auction/AuctionItemDetail?AuctionItemId=NZQh8wj3FOYwR439WdiUvw%3d%3d&AuctionId=S5YS%2bHqu8A9zcHp0d1tyMg%3d%3d&pageNumber=WddRnDis30ojx01x46RicQ%3d%3d&pageSize=WddRnDis30ojx01x46RicQ%3d%3d

I feel like there was very little Beansie could have done to avoid having the coffee pot smashed on his head and the rest that followed. However, if he just offered Richie some tomato and tripe instead of the veal Parm sandwich he probably would have been walking around in Rocco DiMaos jacket. Richie would have left him alone when he realized that him, Beansie and Carmella must be the only people left who still like da tomatoes and tripe.

VERY TONGUE IN CHEEK
Eggmund: "Eggmund, play Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata."
Solar Frontiers and Starlocked board games: I don't want to turn this into a Yakuza or even a Witcher game, but I would totally join a boardgame league at the local Terrabrew outlets. Being the Solar Frontiers champion of the Settled Systems would be good for bragging rights, and maybe worth a minor perk.
Alien Egg: Let me make an omelette...or possibly breed a xeno that I can use to fight other xenos in ritualized combat.
Antique Computer: I used to love all the PipBoy games in Fallout 4.
Binoculars: I haven't put any skill points into using my scanner. If only there was some other way to zoom in my vision over a distance! Spyglass also counts.
Cosmetics Supply Box: Change your facial makeup without having to pay Enhance!
Display Projector: Let me display my photo album pics. I'm honestly surprised you can't craft photo frames that display them.
Electric Tea Pot: Let me brew TEA with all of these tea packets I have.
Empty Half-Globe Display/Empty Stadium Display: Let me display things in them. Radical.
Large Moonshine Jug and other moonshine bits: Let me brew alcohol at my still.
My Friend Wilby and other plushies: We can give Cora books. Why not give Sona stuffed animals?
Ornate Startar: It would be cool if some of my crew would play this if I left it out in the common area.
Portable Desk Fan: This seems like it would make any interior cool. /jk
Quick Boil Coffee Brewer: Let me make coffee with my many bags of coffee.
Scroll Holder: Let the player find Auriel's Bow.
Tablet: Let me take in-game notes. Maybe even give me a codex of all my scanned world data?

The 3 basic parameters of hashtag #Valzubiriagenda:

1. We artists and everyone else can write and self-publish art- and artist-related books: memoirs, biographies, art books and art catalogs. Books are forever. Pamphlets and brochures are not books.
2. We announce a schedule of increasing prices of our art pieces, which includes quantities (scarcity numbers) per price point and overall (the total quantity of art pieces we might ever make). This helps art traders, art investors and art collectors speculate or even stop speculating and instead join a community of investors working together to hopefully skyrocket to the higher announced prices in a shorter span of time.
3. We can use the NFT world, because NFTs provide the tracking (who owns what) and trading.

We can also not be involved with NFTs. Stores and individuals can help sell art using online presence and our catalogs in the stores. If this trends, or once this trends, even expensive art can be sold by neighboring businesses, without exclusivity. Commission systems do not have to be standardized. Art investors can produce their own catalogs to leave at the cafés. Even the cafés can produce their own catalogs.
Valzubiriagenda NFTs
NFTs only came about a few years ago. But I had been working on this since the 1990s. I wrote a book, Valzubiriagenda, along with fellow artist Silverio Perez, and released it in 2018 (Amazon and elsewhere), tackling everything related to #1 & #2. We'll come up with #3 in a later book/ memoi marketing book.
Any artist, including tangible artists can release 10,000 NFTs if the artist chooses to do so. For tangible artists, the NFT first becomes an Art Commission Contract for sight unseen, yet-to-be made art. Once the art is made, the NFT becomes proof of ownership that the actual, tangible art is theirs.
Warehousing our tangible art
Another related idea is that the tangible art may be warehoused by the artist so that the NFT traders continue to trade. This means that even 10-ton 10-foot tall sculptures can be owned and traded by anyone without worrying about shipping, reshipping, scratches, smudges, parts breaking off, etc. The newness of the pieces remain because they are stored by the artist, source, gallery, etc. The art piece gets shipped to the art collector, the ultimate owner.
An artist who makes ceramic coffee mugs - smaller art pieces, can release 10,000 NFTs with a schedule of increasing prices so that NFT traders can trade immediately. The 10,000 coffee mugs can get damaged, so as they are made, they continue to be stored by the artist, until the time when art collectors decide to have the art pieces shipped to them.
Why only now?
I decided to write as many book-length memoirs as I can before I came out to promote this.
I'm an artist and an author. Both need time to "master." I would not even fully use "master" on myself, because there's always something new, even to my own art, my own writing and publishing.

I am now claiming that I'm the visual artist who has produced the most artist memoirs in the world. I have 5 on Amazon. I count Valzubiriagenda as both a marketing book and a memoir-of-sorts, because it has a lot of my own life lessons on writing and publishing. I would not care to contest my claim of having the most memoirs. I will release 5 more over the next 3 years.

BARTER! Get help to write, photograph art and publish your books!
Anyone can hire 11 ghostwriters for 11 memoirs. If you can make art, but you cannot write, then barter your forever art with those who can help you produce forever books.
I don't feel the pressure of writing and publishing because I feel my focus should be on art students and art experts who would study my art and my books 100 years from now. Don't expect relatives and friends to read your books.
I call myself the Dollman
For my NFTs, I am proposing to make dioramas - my original, costumed, bejeweled porcelain dolls in backdrops that will also have precious metals and gemstones. This way I can incorporate precious metals and gemstones in my work, to make sure that people perceive my art as expensive, just in case I myself don't become "famous" - there's no need to get world famous. We are artists and all we need to do is to satisfy the art niche.
Use your laptop now!
I will encourage you to start writing your book-length memoir. Write, Edit and then Self-publish it. Get help. Why wait a hundred years for someone to write about you when all you need is a laptop and a nearby coffee shop.
Don't start counting chickens before the eggs hatch. I have encountered a lot of would-be writers who immediately see themselves as bestselling. world famous assets to society. Two even wanted me to sign NDAs (Nondisclosure agreements), because they did not want me to steal their book ideas.
Here's a suggestion. I would not personally do it. From one manuscript can come 2 books: The Original Draft (unedited, with misspellings, considered to be an art piece, scanned pages(?) of your handwritten original effort), and The Final Edition (edited).
PROVENANCE!
Another way to enhance our investability, tradability and collectability is PROVENANCE - how art ownership proceeds through time. The way this can be done is also through publishing books. Everyone can write their memoirs, biographies, art books and art catalogs, including traders, investors and art collectors. In effect, we artists can continue to be included or mentioned in even more books, without any additional effort by us.
You as an investor, reseller, trader, art collector should be able to publish a catalog with 250 works by 250 different artists, but they need to agree to this right from the start - it's your money, you should require them to follow your version of the hashtag #valzubiriagenda parameters, which preferably should include permission for you to publish their art. Why would you track down 250 artists later?
No exclusive contracts
If you're a café, you can call for artists, and come up with a book with for example, 30 artists, with a chapter devoted to each artist's profile and images of the artist's art.
You can distribute your catalogs to businesses and individuals near and far and online.
The book Valzubiriagenda even cites that funeral homes and janitors closets can sell art, with or without exclusivity. Airline catalogs can include million dollar art pieces. Car manufacturers, showrooms and even car repair shops can sell art as well. Everyone should be able to do this, anywhere in the world, especially not just because of the pandemic, but right now, we are in really bad economies.
What's with the name #Valzubiriagenda
I was into conspiracy theories in 2018, and this term, "The Mandela Effect," was popular. I had read many times that an artist coined the term, but I had to research online, for her name, many times, before remembering it. I'm not good at remembering names. It took me a year and a half to finally tell you that Fiona Broome coined "The Mandela Effect."
I also thought I might have to research trademarks and copyrights just to come up with a generic name. So I decided on "Valzubiriagenda." I was not really sure at first, but I decided to use it as the title for my book (with co-authoartist Silverio Perez) so that there would be no turning back and I can move on.
Am I a FUTURIST?
Someone I recently met this May 2022 just called me a futurist.
In the 1990s, I proposed to a pension fund that they can raise billions of dollars, especially for emergencies, or as needed, or out of desperation, if the pension fund purchases a quantity of art from an artist who not only has a current, reasonable price, but an announced future price that the artist wants to reach.
That future price would obviously be higher than the current price. The art commission contract for multiple art pieces can be taken to the fund's financial lender for a loan. The higher future price can be used for financing purposes.
The pension fund's treasurer, a publicly elected official, said this idea might work, but we had to keep this a secret and discuss this some more, because other pension funds might copy and do this prematurely. This idea had to come from the two of us. The treasurer needed his votes and I needed credentials.
Added into the pot was my idea that I, as the artist, will also write one book-length artist memoir. This was and still is a strong factor, because the leadership and marketing books I had read then mentioned a strong tip. If you want to advance in your field, write a full-length book that is related to the field.
Unfortunately, the elected official, the treasurer of the pension fund, who was also a friend, passed away - he was old and had ailments. At that point in time, I cannot just approach another pension fund treasurer to share this idea with.
I realized I had to write a few memoirs. I needed to set an example for other artists, so I needed to write more than one memoir. Then I felt I should also make ready another book - the how-to of what I'm up to. I wrote Valzubiriagenda, which was a memoir of sorts. I knew how long it would take me to write a book, so I had to make sure I can also consider this book a memoir.
In 2008, I imagined that someone like Bernie Madoff, or a fund like Lehman Brothers, would be desperate enough to use this to save themselves and their companies. I was not ready. I had only written 1 manuscript for a memoir.
In 2012, I released Dollman the Musical, A Memoir of an Artist as a Dollmaker. Once again, I was not ready because writing it depressed me a little, and I knew I had to write more.
In 2014, I released 3 memoirs, and re-released Dollman the Musical. Besides releasing regular books, I released special editions of the 4 books, which had a "Special Secret Insert for Bankers," which explains my ideas of an announced schedule of exponentially increasing prices, to satisfy investors, and the publication of artist memoirs, to satisfy art collectors.
In 2014, I also issued out a press release. Google "Can Billion Dollar Artist Save Investors and World Economy Valentino Zubiri PRWeb August 19 2014" and you will see the press release.
What I did was stake a claim on my ideas. I did not promote my books and the press release. I just wanted them to stay online, like a sleeping giant or a dormant volcano. I even designed 3 of the book covers to look like indie books from the 1980s. I was planting the seeds, thinking they will eventually grow and bear fruit in the future.
In 2015, I was interviewed by Richard Syrett, about one of my memoirs, Hocus Pocus Lately. This book is my memoir with paranormal stories. I could have pursued promoting my paranormal stories, but I wanted to be known first as a visual artist and memoirist, so I allowed myself one interview related to Hocus Pocus Lately. Richard Syrett has(had?) his own syndicated radio show, The Conspiracy Show with Richard Syrett, about the paranormal. He also guest hosts on Coast to Coast AM, another internationally syndicated show about the paranormal.
In 2018, I released Valzubiriagenda (co-authored by artist Silverio Perez, a fellow artist). Finally, this book is "the how-to of what I'm to."
I'm going to end this with some strangeness. In 1986, a lady at a religious gathering went into a trance and left a good number of messages. Supposedly, anyone who got into a trance would have messages, but once the trance was over, the person would not remember what was said.
I was not part of the group, but the lady turned her head to face me. She "foretold" that whatever I would decide to do in the future, it will take time, but it will be the right thing. This is one of my stories in one of my memoirs, Hocus Pocus Lately.
The Tulipmania of 1634-37
I discovered that there was this incident of rare tulips becoming collectible during the Dutch Golden Age. There were tulips so rare and so well-desired that their prices equaled to that of a house. You can read more about this online (Wikipedia) or watch a few YouTube videos about it.
Here is the most useful idea that I gleaned from the Tulipmania. The tulip bulbs remained safe inside nurseries. The traders were carrying the deeds of ownership to the tulip bulbs.
Then NFTs came to the forefront
I started learning PHP, an HTML scripting language, and MySQL, the database that PHP can connect to in the background, in 1999, when there were only 3 books about PHP and MySQL at the bookstores.
By 2014, I was trying to figure out how to make the "ledger," or database that can be used to update ownership and who can be contacted. If we are trading art, then the art ownership should be updated.
Then NFTs came about. This can be used as our ledger. Everyone can immediately trade NFTs of future, yet-to-be made art pieces, especially because it takes time to make tangible art.
NFTs actually went a step ahead, by allowing digital art to be traded.
The only setback with NFTs, in my opinion, is that it still lacks a commission system for resellers and representatives.
For example, if a café wants to represent me, then they can promote me at their café and on their online pages. If I make one piece of art that will be exclusively represented by a gallery, then that commission will be different and more specific. As ownership is transferred, the subsequent owners should be able to reset the commission. We should also have the option of giving commissions to hundreds of representatives at one time with different percentages if need be.
The recent crypto crash
Lately, we have observed that NFTs and cryptocurrencies have been behaving like the stock market and other markets. They have been fluctuating.
I believe that it is time for a trend which discourages fluctuation of prices.
I have also seen YouTube videos where social influencers are encouraging us to be on the lookout for exponentially profitable ventures, because we have all seen this happen with the exponential increase of Bitcoin and Ethereum.
Let's see if #Valzubiriagenda trends
We can announce present and future art prices. The galleries won't do this (yet?) because they follow a more traditional approach to the business of art.
We have a choice of using incrementally or exponentially increasing prices. We still reserve the right to change things in the future, so everyone should know to follow the latest update.
If this trends, if you as an artist simply announces that you will write an artist memoir, or that you will include the future works in future art books, you might have more art traders, investors and collectors approaching you.
Get your pen, paper and calculator
Imagine yourself as an artist, where you are right now. Let's just say you still do not have a book about yourself and your art yet. Imagine now that you have a memoir out there. Don't you think it makes sense to charge more than what you are charging now? Writing and publishing books is just the beginning. I'm just standardizing this approach. The books also say to do other related projects. In my case, getting Dollman the Musical onstage is one idea. You will have other related projects, but the publication of memoirs, biographies, art books and art catalogs will help all of us.
You can also imagine that a law firm that has meeting rooms, with someone who wants to form a local #valzubiriagenda group, can have meetings. A local café can do the same. Local photographers for your art, writers, editors, book designers, proofreaders and others can join in.
I suggest have printed books to share. 15 copies of your memoir or art books will be better than an e-reader or laptop or your phone to show. These gadgets can be stolen, sabotaged, broken, have coffee spilled on them, etc. 15 printed books means simultaneously showing to 15 people. You can even give them away to potential resellers, investors, traders and collectors.
When it rains, it pours, as in the days of Noah
There's a saying, "When it rains, it pours." There is a negative interpretation and a positive interpretation.
Negative: When trouble comes, they cascade to even more.
Positive: When opportunity comes knocking, more follow suit. We can assume that if one gets our art because of #valzubiriagenda, more want to do it now, because of the rising prices, and FOMO - fear of missing out. What will they lose if they miss the boat?
As I have said earlier, if the #valzubiriagenda trends, if you announce a future memoir or art catalog, you might have an increase of investors, traders and art collectors who would want to check you out. You might encourage more sales. Just remember to write and publish that memoir and art catalog.
There's this saying, "As in the days of Noah." Imagine Noah, building his ark, with members of his own family, putting all his time and effort into it. Noah was a nice guy. I'm sure every once in a while a neighbor offered him coffee, or chai latte, or whatever refreshing drink they might have back then.
Here's the lesson to be learned. Just because they offered him some type of bubble tea drink, or coca cola, they still didn't make it to the ark. Rubbing shoulders with actors does not make you an actor. I have told my artist friends to write their memoirs. They told me that once they see me succeed, after all these many years of seeing my seemingly useless efforts, then they will write their memoirs and follow the road that I had paved for them.
Good luck to them, but if I were you, act now, get my art or make art. Support the 5-year old artist whose parent promised to release a comprehensive art catalog. If you get that 5-year old's art, and mine, I would be honored to be in the same art catalog that you will produce. I'm already successful at that point. You have gotten the mission just right.
I have already claimed to have written the most book-length artist memoirs in the world. Dethrone that claim. Barter. Use ghostwriters. Success to me means facing God one day and saying, I wrote my memoirs and left the world a legacy of books and art. I will not tell God, smiling and proudly, that I encouraged a run for my art by announcing a schedule of exponentially increasing prices that reached 9 figures. I'm sure God knows we had fun.

JOIN THIS GROUP

If you want to try out #valzubiriagenda, in any capacity, join this group. Let others know about this group as well.
If you are an artist, you can let everyone know here that you will produce your memoir, art catalogs, etc. It's okay if you don't know how to go about publishing yet, I will discuss this. Please be honorable enough to produce what you promise to produce.
If you want to meet fellow artists, investors, resellers, etc., join us here.
If you are a book writer, editor, proofreader; if you can photograph art pieces; if you are a book designer, etc., join us here. Let us know if you charge, barter for art, or both.
If you have your own tips and knowledge to share, join us here.
If you have underaged artists you are managing (parents, etc.) join us here.
Join this group if you want to sell works. Post your works. You web links. I'm sure I will.
You can announce meetings in your area. You might have meeting rooms, a café, restaurant, etc. where people can meet. In the future, you can have the regular show and tell, where books can be shown and shared.
​
Thanks for reading. Please let me know if I need to edit some parts. Please share and join this group. - Valentino Zubiri, Dollman, Artist, Memoirist
Underaged artists are welcome here, so please be mindful of your language. We cannot post your adult-oriented art pieces, but you can direct us to a separate page or community. There will be limits to your posts, and there will be adult-oriented art that we cannot allow to be posted.
Thanks for reading. Please let me know if I need to edit some parts. Please share and join this group. - Valentino Zubiri, Dollman, artist & memoirist

I hope frequent posts aren’t annoying to anyone. I’m enjoying posting here day to day. Makes me feel less alone and more accountable.
So, positive update. I’m working my way through day 3, and I feel so much better than yesterday. My moodiness has eased up. I haven’t felt weepy and sad. I’ve had great energy. I’m breathing well. My boyfriend and I had our coffee while walking this morning. He apologized for being unsupportive of my quitting and asked how he could better support me. He even said he wanted to talk about quitting himself. I was never going to push him to that, but I think seeing my change is making him want to change with me. While we were walking, we can across the feed store in town. I bought some pepper plants. When we got home I potted them. I did some yard work and washed off the porch. I have dinner plans with a friend tonight. I’m just having the best little day.
So, I’m just saying, it gets better you guys. I’m sure it’s different for everyone. It feels good and bad at different times for us all. Today has been great, and tomorrow may be hard. Who knows. I’m just grateful for this community. A girl on TikTok actually inspired me initially to quit. She and I are making a discord together. I’m going to tell that discord group about this community, and if anyone is interested in the discord let me know. I can add people when we finish setting up. (If this isn’t allowed, mods let me know. I will edit this out of my post.)
Keep at it guys. One day at a time 💕🚭

[ [FIRST] [NEXT>]

Season 10 “Days of Fury” - Episode 2 “Visiting Omen”

He had hoped for a boring day. Boring days are good at work, and Santos was already expecting to not have many of them for a while.
The first couple of days were boring, as usual- Blackriver is a small town, and the worst that had happened was Nila and Kessa making a few wellness checks after worried calls from neighbors. A couple of people in denial, a few ashamed at their own violent outbursts and a stern warning to Tamm about painting others’ properties without asking first.
This morning, however, began with an all-hands meeting. There were no meeting rooms in the office, so they made do in the general workspace room, they all stood there at the center while Keya looked them over.
“We have received a report from a neighboring city about a convoy of protestors making its way to Blackriver” she describes without tone. At this point nobody bothers interrupting.
“This convoy is comprised of approximately four hundred and seventy eight individuals of multiple species, primarily human and venlil but with operationally relevant representations of the entire spectrum of size and mobility types” her paws are behind her back, her ears focused directly ahead, her eyes centered to keep the entire team on the core of her focus “They have crossed multiple cities already, generally engaging in verbal sparring with any figure of authority, parading signs and banners denouncing all manners of authorities as well as occasionally engaging in physical altercations with officers.”
“They are also known to engage in vandalism. Though primarily aimed at exterminator and police precincts as well as public offices, they have already caused considerable collateral to others they have identified as ‘collaborators’” there’s a single heartbeat of waiting for breath before she continues “They have, however, not shown to be an incredibly organized group or one with a clear goal and objective. The convoy appears to contain only extremely emotionally charged people with no clear overarching goal.”
“We are incapable of dealing with the situation should they turn aggressive, as such we will be simply maintaining watch and relocating the populace should they become a problem.” Then, she picks up her holopad and passes it to Lunek beside her “They can only follow one path with the entire convoy, the central street, therefore I have divided it into four sectors. One of each will be assigned to a sector.”
First her ears turn to the first target “Lunek, sector one at the entrance. As the most approachable member of the precinct your task is to give an initial image of harmlessness. Do not engage first, do not take initiative against them. Ensure the members of the herd in the area are warned of their approach. If they become aggressive, retreat and focus on the escape of the herd.”
She tilts her head a little bit, turning her ears the other way “Marik, sector two. Mostly the commercial area, your task is ostensive protection to lower the chances of them initiating aggression. Whereas protection of the herd is first priority your second priority is ensuring Tenve’s Hardware Store as well as Sunbreeze Meals and Watchful Café remain capable of providing anyone whose residences become damaged.” suddenly, she turns her head entirely to face Marik “Ostensive protection means dissuasion, ensure that they know they are not under threat and as long as those specific areas are not engaged, do not provoke”
Next in her line of fire is Santos “As our human officer you will be in sector three, nearby the precinct. They are liable to become most agitated in this area and your presence may serve to calm them. You are not to engage, if deemed necessary the precinct’s materials are considered expendable, do not attempt to stop them”
“Sector four, the exit of town, will be with me to ensure that they have fully left Blackriver and will not attempt to turn back” then she tilts her ears again “Aren, you will gear up with a CCG and remain out of view range, your task will be quick emergency response should the need arise.” she then points her tail at the last three officers “Vess, your task will be to inform the herd and ensure a clear path for the convoy while Nila and Kessa will gather all of our medical supplies and set a staging area out of the convoy’s range. Organize ambulance assistance from Striped Hill and Everrain”
Then, she turns her ears around to focus each one in turn “As any attempt at aggression will end only in negative consequences, and in order to reduce the apparent levels of threat you will be unarmed. The estimated time of arrival is a third of a claw, ready yourselves and be at your post in time. Dismissed.”
“Not sure if I like or I don’t that we had the cold bastard right now” Aren says, as soon as Keya had left the room “Maybe we should move in closer when the convoy gets to sector four?”
“Probably a good idea to be nearby” Santos adds with a sigh “They might take umbrage with her demeanor, hopefully they won’t be set off too hard.”
And with silent signs of agreement all of the officers of Blackriver depart for preparations. The first ones to leave the precinct are the ones in charge of support, the two girls set off early to find someone willing to permit usage of their lawn as a possible impromptu field hospital and a little while later Aren leaves with a heavy CCG.
Slowly, the clock ticks to the appointed claw… And soon enough, Lunek can see in the distance the incoming omen of people. At first a distant line in the horizon, slowly the dark mark on the road coalesces into distinct shapes, the shapes of hundreds of vehicles slowly rolling down the road.
When the first few get close to the initial buildings of the main street, the entire convoy slows down. Their process of preparation is seemingly laborious, each vehicle houses multiple people at a time, smaller cars full to the brim, flatbeds with more people on their cargo space than can safely be contained, even buses conscripted for the effort. They carry with them signs, flags, a multitude of symbols as they dismount their vehicles and start spreading out to fill the street.
They seem to naturally form two distinct yet highly mixed groups, at its most distinctive is the pack of humans who keep a good distance from each other. But they are not alone in this group as takkan, mazic, yotul, zurulian and even drilvar form this central group. But flowing around them, not avoiding their presence but never infringing in their space is the grey mass of venlil, packed tight together, and mixed in there adding color to the monochromatic flux are krakotl, tilfish, sulean, iftali, sivkit and even a seemingly very confused duerten.
And at the very core of the moving group are their vehicles, which gently start rolling forward again as the group starts moving. Lunek simply waits, silently, by the side of the road, his ears attentively swiveling from one side to the other, expression having given way to function. Before the first of the convoy even arrives close he turns to the side, making a pointing sign with his tail. A woman who had been watching from her yard flicks her right ear and runs back inside.
He continues to wait, scanning around at all times for the presence of… Anything. The street is empty of locals when the first visitors start to alight. The convoy is loud, their symbols carry a loudness of colors and their vehicles make as much noise as they can to draw attention, but those who walk seem content in allowing their tools to speak for them, for now. Lunek tries to make sense of the banners and signs, but the messages are disparate as the group- Some speak of injustices against their people, some speak of anger at invaders, some speak of betrayal.
“Fuck off, fireman!” comes the harsh bark of a human, causing Lunek to flinch. But flinch is all he does, he simply starts walking alongside the moving convoy.
The exterminator’s attention is drawn to the details of the few people he can distinguish amongst the mass. Something tickles at his pattern-recognition but he cannot quite ascertain what for a while, until a lightly limping mazic makes her way to the edge of the mass “Want to finish the job?!” she trumpets, her form towering over his.
“I’m just observing, ma’am.” Though the tremor of his voice is noticeable, he remains stoic. But her proximity makes him notice something about her body, marks in her wrists, neck and feet. Though mazic have powerful wrists and knuckles upon which they support the front half of their weight, her left wrist seems completely incapable of it, giving her a limp particular to a three-point walk. “To make sure there’s no impediment on your path” he notices the leathery skin around her left wrist is deeply blackened.
“Oh, ‘no impediment’ is that it? So everyone that lives here is an impediment?!” her voice booms.
“Ma’am” still, he does not yield nor does he break his pace following the convoy “We have not done anything other than inform our people of your presence…” for a half second all he hears is the sound of his own heart “We can’t do anything else.”
Those words, then, sealed his fate. The first shout to echo in his direction was a yotul howling “Yeah you’re useless!” and soon the avalanche came in multiple voices and languages “Can’t do shit!” “You’re just here to hurt people!” “Useless crap!” “Idiot!” and many more.
With every step and twitch the very average exterminator puts all of his focus on just being there. He lets himself cower a little bit, against the barrage it is difficult not to, but he continues to accompany. A few curious coats step out from their houses to watch, but the front of the convoy seems far too focused on the sole exterminator in view to bother anyone else.
A few steps ahead, an older venlil with a cane has moved the closest to the convoy as any watcher has up to now. Seeing her proximity to the increasingly rowdy crowd causes Lunek to speed up, quickly approaching her “Leva-”
But his words are stalled when she puts a paw on his shoulder, she gently puts her head against his for just a second “You’re doing good pup, keep at it” she mutters to him before breaking contact and turning around to walk back inside. He can spy her grandchildren looking on through the door. Lunek looks back at the still-shouting moving convoy, takes a deep breath, and continues to accompany them forward. A small pawful of them, however, seem to have fallen silent.
Once having reached the limit of his assigned zone, however, Lunek stops. He watches the convoy move forward, past the houses, now noisier than before. The initial hollering at him had turned into disjointed screams at some indistinct foe- Though the herd had been noticed of a foe, it was yet unaware of who, or what, said foe was. So for now it howled at the ineptitude of… Someone. And as the last of the convoy passes beyond the imaginary line of his duty, Lunek lets out a deep sigh and allows himself to sit down on the ground.
He stays there for a moment, without thought, simply letting the tension, confusion and fear permeate his body until a gentle paw touches his arm. He doesn’t need to look to identify it, he lets his lover use her strength to prop him up, raising him to his feet “Keina you shouldn’t-”
“Neighbor’s looking over Tiss” his wife wraps her arms and tail around him “I’m not leaving you alone.” she stays like that for a second, before breaking off “Do you need to go after them?”
“No”
Marik stalks through the sidewalk, moving with energy. His speed outpaces the movement of the convoy, his paws twitch to grasp at something that isn’t there and a deep and intense motion makes his short fur stand on end. He had let the convoy’s head move in front of him, simply standing still as he assessed as many as he could in the mass, and now he had begun to move towards the front again.
As he stalked forward he focused his sight on every member of the convoy that seemed of interest. A human whose clothes seemed suspiciously loose, a venlil whose movements were far too stiff, a gojid who kept his claws behind his back. He stared at each like they were his quarry, analyzing every piece of movement they made for threats, and yet aside from the challenge in the human’s gaze he saw no danger arise.
Tenve had closed his shop, so as the convoy moved forward Marik simply continued to follow along, scanning the crowd for threats. But the next point of interest arrives, and he rushes ahead placing himself in front of the only restaurant of the town. Sunbreeze Meals wasn’t a very common sort of restaurant, Blackriver did not have enough visitors for a normal restaurant to be profitable and was small enough most people had their meals at home, it most often served takeout for those farmers who’d spend so long in the field they would return home without the energy to feed themselves.
Sparing a look inside at the only five tables, Marik couldn’t keep a small thought away from his mind. How most who got their meals from Sunbreeze these days did so because they enjoyed the cooking rather than their need of work, ever since the sunspeck population has been brought under control and the maintenance of the fields had become much smaller. He feels the presence long before he can recognize what led him to feel it and turns to stare at a group of six that approach the entrance: Two humans, a tilfish, two gojids and a takkan had broken off from the convoy and approached the restaurant.
He traces his color band over each in turn, and they all bristle at his stare. One of the humans hesitates before continuing to walk inside, and Marik simply remains by the door with his arms crossed, left ear twisted as far back as he could to listen to the inside.
“What have you got here?”
“W-we mostly ha-have ready ma-made meals to go or- or- Or you can look over the menu”
“There’s no need to stutter, y’know”
“So-sorry-”
“Really, after everything y’all are still with this predator crap?”
The chimes on the door echo for the second time in sequence as Marik makes his way inside. The tilfish had started to lean over the counter while the other five had arrayed themselves behind her. They all turn their attention to him as he enters, including the venlil manning the counter. Marik keeps his gaze directly on the tilfish for a few uncomfortable seconds, before looking at the man behind the counter and making a simple sign with his tail, a short vertical bob with the tip and a slow horizontal swipe. It’s meaning simple: >Safe<.
After a few seconds someone else appears from the kitchen. The tall venlil carries a large stack of plastic boxes in his arms, all of them seemingly designed to attach to themselves so as to be carried with ease. He puts them down with a resounding crash on the counter, and opens up his voice with ice “Farmer’s Pots, good meal when you’re working and can’t go home.” With each word the owner of the restaurant and main cook comes closer and closer to the tilfish, until the last “Ten credits each.”
Nobody moves for a couple of seconds, and then one of the humans steps closer and brings a holopad over to the credit reader. There’s a noise indicating payment, and then the owner raises his head and tilts it to focus his favored eye and both of his ears at the man who paid “Now,” he shifts register in his voice and the language he speaks in “fuck off” he finishes.
With no small amount of surprise the group of six retrieve the stack of packaged meals, carefully walking out and back into the convoy. Marik stays behind for a moment “Didn’t know you spoke human”
“Pup’s enamored with their languages. Of course, first greek words he learns is swearing.”
Outside, Marik stalks further ahead to the next point of interest. He moves faster than the convoy, and has time to move in front of it. For a few meters the street is still clear as he arrives to find a group of people standing in front of the Watchful. Standing there were all of its employees, and even all of its regulars, twenty people total standing there as if they were having the most normal day. If not for their raised ears tracking every noise coming from down the street and their swaying tails swinging about like angry beasts.
One of them simply points his tail at the other side of the street as Marik comes closer, and the hunter doesn’t need a second command to understand the meaning. They have this, he has a less practical but just as important duty. He crosses the street quickly before the convoy starts coming closer, and heads towards the park.
As the regulars of the Watchful had feared, it took little time until a large group had broken off from the convoy. With the town on alert about the convoy they had found themselves bereft of prey and now this group had set out to find some, anyone who might be willing, or not, to listen to their grievances. And what is clearly a place designed for people to congregate looked most appetizing.
Marik shadowed the group as they moved through the park, but they were accompanied by nothing but silence. It wasn’t until they ran into the centerpiece of the park that he took initiative, stepping ahead of the group and simply… Standing there a distance away from the tree of many scions, between it and the group.
“What’s so important over there, fireman?” it was a venlil who asked, but his usage of an english word was not lost on Marik.
“A place you will respect” the exterminator has his arms crossed, the one good portion of his gaze set on the man who asked “This is a grave.”
Though the group that now prowled was large, those who heard were taken aback. One such, however, approaches closer. He was a venlil whose fur shifted between a soft, brownish color and a dirty white “A tradition of the tenets right? One of those family trees?” The man would have been distinctive in any other group due to his missing patches of fur around neck, wrists, even portions around his head. But such signs of long term damage were common in the convoy.
Interest. They had shown true interest, or at least one of them had. “No, but similar… The forgotten tree is a grave for the forgotten.” He felt like these people, at least the ones before him, could probably understand the meaning of this place “It is of no tradition. Someone, a long time ago, wanted to honor someone who was gone but whose name was not meant to be remembered. Someone who had disappeared in the system… So they borrowed on another’s tradition, and added a scion to this tree, with something in their memory. Others have done so similarly, until it became… A grave for the forgotten”
“Didn’t think you’d be worried about this kind of place” it’s a human that speaks up this time
“Our duty is to protect this town, what you think-” but Marik’s words are interrupted by that same venlil who had asked before. His demeanor suddenly shifts, his ears perk up and his entire body shifts forward for a moment. He hesitates, for a second everyone’s focus is on him, and then he runs towards the tree.
Marik follows behind, stopping just by the man’s side as he finds himself at the base of the tree. The man makes a direct line to somewhere, something he had found from the distance, as if it had called him. He finds a thick and heavy branch that had been bent down by the weight of its scions and memories, near its base and speaking of a memory left behind long ago is a braid of fur made of three colors, a dirty white, a soft brown and a dark grey, bound by the braids are two beads.
The man raises up a paw, but does not touch it. As if cradling it, he recites the words engraved in one of the beads “I will cross every star to return home” others have come closer to listen to the man’s hoarse voice “There will always be a home for you” he reads of the second one. The names on the beads have been scratched out. The man falls on his knees “S-she kept her promise and… I couldn’t keep mine…”
Marik steps back as he watches two others come closer to comfort the man. He looks as a few others approach with more caution, looking up at the tree with a bit more reverence than they had before. Then, he turns around and starts heading back towards the main street.
Gazing out as the convoy gains a new flux, some leave it as it passes to move towards the park while others leave the park to rejoin the convoy, Marik simply stays there at the side of the street looking as stern as he could. Though the noise of the convoy remains great, here in this portion it seems to die down a little. A thought crosses his mind as he turns an ear as far back as he can, a thought he can’t help but voice “I wonder how many are looking at their own graves…”
As the convoy progresses, Santos simply stands by the front of the precinct, hands in his pockets. He watches the convoy arrive, heart beating fast, constrained hands the only reason he hasn't started shaking quite yet. He starts tapping his right foot as he watches the first few people cross by without noticing what this place is yet, everyone knows where the precinct is, so aside from the words printed on the sign by the entrance there is no other marker of what this building’s purpose might be.
Of course, it is impossible for nobody to notice. The entire convoy seems to stop as soon as a zurulian riding on the shoulders of a human points a claw at the building and says something. A large group breaks away at the command, all of them holding disparate signs and messages. They turn on the building with enough roars that whatever they are attempting to transmit is lost on him.
Santos is thankful his hearing isn’t nearly as good as his coworkers’, as the cacophony is already overwhelming him. He changes stances slightly, taking his hands out of his pockets and crossing his arms. This prompts a small group to turn their looks at him, the focus easily identifiable with the humans in their midst, focus which made the hair in the back of Santos’ neck stand on end. Living in this place had refined his sense of danger, but he didn’t need that to realize what could happen.
It was a group of five that approached, four humans and a venlil. “Didn’t think they’d be letting humans live out here in the boonies” said one of his kin.
Santos just shrugs “Got hired to work here. Honestly, rural folk get a needlessly bad reputation, most of the time they just don’t care as long as you’re not bothering them”
“Really? In my-”
Santos interrupts the man “Cut it out” there are many ways in which humans make themselves obvious, many of which are their eyes. Santos did understand the fear of them and why it was primal, it was not the fear of the eyes but the fear of attention, it was knowing you were under the scrutiny and judgment of another that set off that emotion. It was rarely the eyes that showed this attention for most species, but for humans it was, and the man’s clear gaze on his badge made the entire situation clear to him “Stop beating around the bush and say it already.”
Someone else is who speaks. The tall woman starts not with words, however, but by spitting on Santos’ uniform “You fucking traitor” her voice is both fierce and cold at the same time. A very emotional coldness.
“There we go” he sighs “Just… Move on. We’re not getting anything out of this conversation”
“Why?” It was the venlil in the group that started this time “These people hate you, they hate you for what you are! Why do you work for them?!”
Santos rubs his eyes and sighs “Because someone has to. Change only happens when you make it happen, simple as that”
“Change?!” another one of the humans howls “Do you think those people can change?! You know the truth, those fuckers have never done anything good!”
“You know, if you had read your history books…” Santos stares at the one who had just had their outburst “You’d remember that we once thought the very same about the police” there’s the sound of glass breaking, but he doesn’t reaction “And a lot of us still do”
The human staring him down shifts their gaze slightly at the broken window of the precinct, then back at Santos “A broken window is easy to fix” he shrugs “As I was saying. Same shit.” he crosses his arms again “There’s a role those people play, a role that needs to be played because it’s important. Different name, different problems, still the same shit. Gotta fix this, I’m doing my part” he then stares at the venlil in the group “You do yours. Simple as that.”
“Role?!” the venlil of the group steps closer “What role could they possibly have?! They only exist to hurt people!”
Santos steps back, and raises his eyes a little bit. Of course, the classics had shown themselves in this instance. With as many humans as there are in the crowd there were now quite a few objects in the air, most clearly aimed at the precinct behind him. Though given the failed arc of some of them it was clearly not just the humans indulging in such a tried and true method.
“I used to be a wildlife preserve ranger” Santos then focuses his gaze on the aggravated venlil “This is a frontier town, if you walk in the brushes with shorts you’ll walk out with your ankles numb. The athai out there are rather harmless, but they keep the sunspecks under control.” He takes another step back “Since coming here I’ve been pest control, had to catch an exotic animal set loose, investigated a murder, helped stop a child from taking her own life, stopped large scale fights, helped a dozen people avoid being arrested for self defense and helped break a fucking siege”
Santos cracks his knuckles “There’s roles. Jobs that need done and there is one fucking organization doing it all. That is a problem.” Then, he sighs and takes a few more steps to the side, offering indifference from this point on “There’s nothing I can say that would make you calm down.” he says one final time “Just make sure not to injure yourselves in the process, alright?” His words seemed to be enough to make the small group cease trying to interact, as the convoy had begun moving again. Though the one human who had called him a traitor gets one final parting shot at the precinct “Where the hell did you get an egg in this planet…” Santos says with a raised eyebrow as the projectile impacts the front door.
Keya stands by a large sign, the same one that welcomes you into Blackriver on one side and sees you out at the other, the official limit of the town. Her arms behind her back, her attention directly towards the front of the convoy as they march. Something gains the whole of her attention, the car in the front. Someone draws her focus, a human with a megaphone on top of the car. The man shouts words of encouragement at the people behind him with the megaphone before turning to his holopad, then he bends over downwards to discuss something with the driver.
She simply remains there, waiting for the convoy to pass. But instead of moving on out of the city, here the convoy stops completely. Keya observes as the further end of the convoy starts to slowly compact upon itself, and her ears pick up something “Alright everyone, start getting ready, next town over is more than a claw away, make sure you’ve left nothing behind” the words were not meant for her, nor for anyone too far. They come from the same man she had seen standing on top of the car, but he had now climbed down and was talking with a group of multiple species.
It is clear they have some degree of leadership, though the convoy does not stop cleanly nor does it begin to organize with alacrity they do respond to the group’s organization. So Keya keeps her focus on them as they point, wave and talk between themselves, others and devices. But at least one of them has noticed her attention, a gangly and light-skinned human with fire-red hair, the man that was atop the car. He starts walking in her direction, before turning around for one final set of commands as he walks backwards “And make sure the guys at the back got all the crap! We’re here to be heard, not to trash the city!” he says before turning back again to head towards her. A venlil with pure white fur erupts from inside the car he was riding, quickly dashing to his side as they notice where he was going.
In a few moments both have come up to her, the human looking down at her with the venlil bristles at his side “Saw anything interesting, fireman?”
“What are you doing here?”
“What? Isn’t it obvious?!” it was the venlil that roared a response “You saw all of it! You know what they’ve done to us! What they’ve done to everyone! And you still work for those brahking monsters! It’s like you’re thankful they made you a cripple!”
The human puts a hand on the venlil’s shoulder, calming her demeanor just a little bit “We’re here because honestly, we’re all too tired of being fucking ignored is what. So what the fuck are you gonna do?!”
“I have put the wrong emphasis” Keya says with her lack of tone. She can see the human shiver just a little bit “My task is to ensure the safety of this town. Your convoy is a danger. We have eight field-capable officers, we cannot ensure the safety of the residents against a group like yours. People will take actions for reasons, you have broadcast your reasons clearly. You have chosen this place for a reason which I cannot ascertain.”
She makes sure her ears are trained towards both the human and the venlil, an action which causes the venlil to cower behind her partner “We do not house government agencies. This is a farming town of little note. The local precinct is a simple precinct, we have no regulatory or command authority. The town population is approximately double that of the number of your convoy. We have no individuals of appreciable social or political reach. There is nothing in Blackriver of interest to people attempting to change government policy, nor have there been actions taken here that I can identify as being cause for retaliatory actions within the context of your message.”
“I must ensure this does not happen again and the only way of doing so is minimizing our attractivity as targets. A logical assumption of your choice of quarry would be a town with the presence of politicians, a large city with constant news coverage, cities housing important government agencies or those containing the Regional Firebases”
“So I ask again. What are you doing here?”
The two remain silent for a few seconds, before the human turns around with a mouth noise “Whatever, I don’t need to explain myself to someone that won’t listen. Come on!” he starts to stalk back towards the car, but stops once he notices his venlil companion wasn’t moving.
The snow-white venlil has their focus on Keya, who offers a simple low forward swipe of her tail, a sign to proceed. Still, the venlil seems frozen in place until the human comes back and grabs hold of their paw with a gentle touch. At which point both finally return to the convoy.
Keya remains at the side of the road, watching as the convoy readies itself again to leave. People get back inside cars, they hop on the back of trucks and load themselves into buses. She continues to watch as the convoy takes its time riding out, making their way out of the town.
Once it is finally gone, multiple footsteps sound behind her. When she turns around she meets her officers, having returned from their assigned positions “They have left. I expect your reports of what happened in each sector by the end of your shifts” she states plainly, before looking at Santos “They did not appear to have a specific reason for targeting Blackriver.” The question remains unspoken.
The human officer just shrugs “Sometimes, you don’t know what you’re doing. We’re just a little town, I doubt they even know what exactly they’re angry about.” He looks at the tail end of the convoy as it leaves “Town was probably just a place they felt safe going to.”
“D-do you think we might get more like that” Lunek says, at the back of the group.
“Who knows…” Santos sighs “But if human history applies anywhere here… This is just a sign of worse things to come”
[ [FIRST] [NEXT>]
And thus the omen passes by. Feelings, emotions of all sorts, without a plan or a reason other than just their own rage and distress.
Did any of these even know what they were doing? And how much worse can it be when they do?

I have two moka pots (of differing sizes) that I've been using regularly recently. Stupidly, I left them out about a week ago, thinking I'd cleaned them in the typical manner and left them on the side. I haven't drunk coffee in about a week, but decided to make some today, so I opened one up, only to find I hadn't cleaned it, or the other one, as I'd thought.
It appeared there was mould on the inside of the water reservoir, on both pots, where the usual marks are in the pots from use. So I attempted to clean this off, using hot water, dish soap and bicarb, but I didn't seem to be able to remove the mould. What's worse is I seemed to be taking a greyish-black layer off when I was wiping with a cloth. I imagine this was a protective layer for the aluminium.
Are the pots still safe to use? I am more concerned about metal contamination now than I am getting sick from mould. One of the pots is actually fairly new, and I'm a bit out of pocket, so it'd be a shame if I had to invest in a whole new one because of this.

Hi, I know some of you have been interested in Joost’s written stuff, so this is one of them. It’s a short story that Joost wrote for Boekenweek voor Jongeren (Book Week for Young People) in 2019. There’s more info about it here (in Dutch) https://www.vice.com/nl/article/qvgzpv/joost-klein-schreef-een-kort-verhaal-over-een-wilde-nacht-in-berlijn and there was also this promo video for it https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wx7wxnpxps0. It's been translated from Dutch - maybe not the most perfect translation but it's readable. Original in Dutch here. Enjoy

"How come he suddenly has cash?" I looked at Gurb, but he avoided my gaze. Louis never had money and yet he was buying another round. Meanwhile, a Moby song was playing and nothing made sense. "If he has money for drinks, he can surely pay me back, right?"
Just a few hours ago, I was alone in Berlin. Now, ten hours later, I'm standing in some obscure techno club with my best friends. Loud rock music with drunken shouting. "Hey, Miss Murder, can I make beauty stay if I take my life?" I woke up that day with a mild hangover from the lonely yet people-filled night before. Perfect conditions for a 20-year-old dropout.
The Hard Rock Café was the most beautifully ugly place in Berlin. Gurb had driven for seven hours straight in his mother's car, but we didn't notice. An iconic black Mini Cooper. Your body leads your mind, the beat never stops, and you can conquer the world. Louis threw in another crazy dance move. We were happy.
"Do you want another drink, brother?" Gurb asked me, half shouting. An evening filled with rhetorical questions. He saw me dancing and already knew the answer.
Gurb always had money. Louis, on the other hand, never did. Louis was also the youngest of us three. He had just turned 18. I wouldn't call him a cunning fox. More like a jack-of-all-trades. Like the time he made a lot of money on a Wadden Island with a group of boys. They sold large blocks of hash.
"Crazy dude!" I shouted at him. He yelled something back.
"Do you remember back then?" Louis said.
"Back then? Back then? Yeah man, of course!" I had no idea what he meant. "Do you mean the party?"
"Do you mean the party, he says! This guy. When I look at you like this, it makes me happy. The exact same kid is here letting loose just like back in high school!"
We knew each other from secondary school. He joined when I was in the second grade. He was very intelligent. Too young, too much knowledge of the world. His mother is from Brazil. We often went to his mother's place to play on the Playstation Louis and I had bought together.
I lived everywhere at that time. In the crisis shelter where I stayed for a while, for example, I wasn't allowed to have a Playstation. So we set it up in an accessible place, near school. It was always fun with Louis. Going together to the Apple Store. Taking all kinds of photos with all the webcams, posting them on Hyves, and then leaving. Louis always knew how to cheer me up.
"Aaaaaaaaaa!" There was Gurb with five drinks in his hands. Gurb was wearing a blue checkered shirt. Two buttons undone. Hair slicked back. "You look good, brother!"
"You look fresh too! We all look fresh!" Gurb said enthusiastically. Louis was wearing a completely white outfit. We quickly bought this before going out. He also bleached his hair.
"You look like the Brazilian cousin of James Dean in these clothes," I said. Louis laughed. "Let me take a picture."
Suddenly, the DJ switched to some kind of techno. "Ah, here Berlin briefly takes off its mask." I was fine with it all. Louis was talking to a lady.
Voluptuous breasts, I thought to myself. He gave her one of his two drinks.
"He's with a girl and he's thinking with his dick," I said to Gurb. "Let him be, tonight Berlin is ours!"
The bass kept pounding. "I simply don't have the patience for the club," I said to Gurb. He looked surprised. Like a sweet dog, tilting his head. "I'm just waiting for tomorrow. Can't do my thing here. Don't have patience for the already known. I want adventure and I want it now!"
Gurb started laughing. "Patience is a virtue." Yes. Patience is all well and good, but I think it's a waste of my time. Gurb grabbed my shoulder.
"I think it's time for another beer."
Louis and I were walking through Leeuwarden a year ago when suddenly a red Ford Ka stopped in front of us. It was Gurb, casually driving around the city. He invited us into his car. We hopped in. Since that afternoon, the three of us were together. A few months later, Louis got a tattoo on his ribs in honor of our friendship. It was the name of our group chat. Braddar Force Indigo.
There were also days when Gurb would take me for a drive around Friesland. He reminded me how beautiful Friesland is. The world doesn't spin there. The newspapers I threw away in the Stiens forest in 2011 could still be lying in the same spot, so to speak.
Just before midnight, I found myself in line for the restroom. My eyes fell on a pair of striking shoes. Cigarette smoke invaded my nose for the fourth time. "Müssen Sie eine Zigarette haben?" a female voice spoke to me. I felt like Tom Hanks in the final scene of Angels & Demons, where the new pope first steps onto the balcony. The curtains opened. There I was, witnessing an important moment in history. I was just told how I was sent by God, but my ears didn't want to hear any of it. At least that's how I felt. My mouth was empty. I had no words left. That's when I knew for sure. Berlin might really be as crazy as literally everyone says.
Dark blond, silky hair. Was this real beauty then? She wouldn't look 40, but I think she was. A true woman. Beautiful in all her elegance. I always joked about being interested in older women, but tonight one stood in front of me. "I don't smoke," I said to her.
Someone tapped me. "Please, just go to the toilet!" He was right. I hadn't peed in a while either. My urine was cloudy. "Glomerulonephritis," I said to myself on the toilet. This is an unusual condition. It's an inflammation in the kidneys, I thought I remembered. They should never have given me access to Google.
The evening progressed, and Louis kept buying rounds. "But seriously now. How does Louis suddenly have all that money for drinks?" I asked Gurb. He was outside smoking with a group of Swiss girls. I had strategically positioned myself so that I could always leave the crime scene if necessary.
"You shouldn't ask me," said Gurb. He was laughing with the temporary girlfriend group of Louis. Gurb has a beard. A lot of chicks like that. I get it too.
As much as I enjoyed Louis and Gurb being here for me, something didn't sit right with me. It couldn't just be about the money. "What's up with him?" I heard one of the Swiss girls say to Gurb.
Those kinds of questions really tire me out. "Not much, with you?" I replied.
They all started laughing. "That's not what she meant, brother," said Gurb.
"I couldn't care less whether she meant it or not. Send that brace-face back to Switzerland. Don't drive me crazy, alright!"
Actually, I hadn't drunk that much that evening. "Two vodka Sprites, please!" It's rare for me to get just one drink. "I always get two drinks, then you have to wait shorter for the third one!" Maybe the alcohol was affecting me more than I wanted to admit. Oh well, it was still the three of us against the world.
"Nice shoes, are those Prada?" I asked a random girl at the bar.
"No, these are fake. Why would I buy real ones for 600 dollars if I could just buy these for 20?"
"..."
I'm not very good at that. Talking. To women.
Louis and Gurb were in the smoking area now. It was less blue than the dance floor itself. My clothes already stank, so a visit to the smoking area couldn't hurt. "These people are so underground!" Gurb shouted. Louis was filming him with his phone. "These people..." There was a brief pause. As if Gurb forgot the only line he had. "...so underground!" All three of us burst into laughter. The alcohol flowed through our veins as if it came from the purest mountains. People seemed doubled and the room was full. We had been in the same club in Berlin for several hours.
"Leonardo! What are you hiding from the big boss?" I sometimes called Louis ‘DiCaprio.’ "You a rich guy, now?" I said, with an accent as if I were from the Bronx.
Louis started laughing. "Eh, you know nothing. Bullshit talk."
I had to laugh too. What was I even worried about? Friends are friends, with or without money. That shouldn't matter. Louis probably just worked for that money. Maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought. Maybe he just had enough to buy rounds. But what if my gut feeling was right? That feeling was never wrong. Except for that one time at the Holland Casino in Groningen. Even the best of us have slip-ups. I was just getting worked up again. When it comes down to it, Louis is one of the sweetest guys I know. I had to let it go. After all, it's still Louis.
"I think I'm going to have sex soon, man," Louis said.
"With who?" I asked immediately.
"That one girl."
"Which one?"
"The one with the boobs."
"Oh, her. Just be careful."
"What kind of reaction is that?" Louis asked indignantly.
I'd only had four drinks, but I was acting like a mess. Louis was right. I didn't understand myself. Where was my head at? I'm here in Berlin, supposed to be having the time of my life, but here I am feeling lonely and sad again. Joost once again couldn't control his emotions.
"Sorry," I suddenly said to Louis. "Sorry for my behavior. Been acting dumb towards you all night. It's unnecessary." Sometimes I have that. Mood swings. "Know that crime is never the solution. We've talked about this so many times. Yes, it's tempting and sometimes easy money. I sometimes find it amusing too, but it's always hypothetical. Ask me for help. I can help you, even with illegal things. I'll always have your back." The dancing was kind of over.
The words I had just placed on Louis's plate came from my heart. My Frisian, irregular boys' heart.
Crying in the club. I had never seen myself like that. Crying, yes. In the club, no. I never understood the taboo around crying. Or emotions in general. I saw myself in the mirror. They weren't tears of joy. They weren't tears of sadness either. It was me letting everything go. All the emotions I had ever felt. The emotions I felt between my brother and sister and myself because they wanted to take on a parental role over me, but I was in puberty, so I pushed them away. The emotions I felt when my old neighbors were supposed to take care of my dog, but didn't tell me that he was bitten by one of their dogs. They didn't have money for the surgery, they later told me. They were ashamed of their lack of money. My dog died from this injury. Even the emotions that were all jumping at once during the retake for my swimming diploma A, I let go of.
No emotions. Just for a moment, not feeling anything. Is that too much to ask for?
"You still don’t smoke?"
It had to be the voice of the woman with the cigarettes. I looked over my shoulder through the mirror. It was her. The one with dark blond, silky hair.
"Not to be rude, but this is the men’s room," I said. She took a step closer and kissed me on my lips. It tasted like more. We started kissing. It had been a while since I had had female contact at this level. It probably didn't look good and it didn't feel good either. She started kissing my neck. Slowly, I noticed the pressure in the erectile tissues of my penis starting to increase. "I really don't have time for this!" I thought to myself. The woman with the cigarettes started to slowly sink down until she was on her knees. I didn't want this. Not now, not like this. She unraveled my penis from my Polo Ralph Lauren underwear. Her tongue was blue. It was probably from cheap shots of alcohol.
Was this real beauty then? Was this the beginning or the end of her story? And had I become the boy my parents hoped I would be? I thought about the fact that this was once someone's little daughter. Somewhere in the world, an old man might be wondering what his daughter is doing. Am I really putting pleasure above my own morals and values?
With my semi-erect circumcised penis still exposed, I lifted her up. After giving her a kiss on her forehead, I pulled up my pants and left the toilets.
It was the usual last hour in any club ever. I met Louis and Gurb at the bar. "Should we have another drink?" I asked Gurb. "I feel like having a cocktail. Something sweet. Lots of sugar. What about you?"
Gurb looked at the menu. "A cognac would go down well right now."
"A cognac? You're only nineteen!" Gurb and Louis laughed. "Two Tequila Sunrises please!" I called to the bartender. "Also, two beers! Thanks!" I also got a beer for Louis. At first, I didn't want to, but I didn't want to spoil the mood either. Besides, I didn't want to show too much that it bothered me so much.
We danced away the last minutes. The club closed, and we decided to walk with the group of Swiss girls. Apparently, they were staying nearby.
As I lagged behind the group, one of them tried to start a conversation with me. "Are you okay?" she asked kindly.
"I'm fine. Just had too much beer. Makes me sleepy." Not true at all, but I've heard people say that.
"You’re tired? The fun has only just began!" And as she said this, she pulled something out of her inner pocket. Her clenched fist, shielded by a half jacket. Who is this girl, anyway? I thought to myself. She opened her hand flat, and right in the center of her palm lay two small pills with a smiley face on them. At least, they looked like it.
"Oh, I don’t do drugs. Sorry."
"Me neither!" And she swallowed a pill. "Now it’s your turn... Or are you scared?"
Scared? Who did this crazy Swiss witch (with really beautiful eyes) think she was. With her "are you scared". I'll show her who's scared.
"Scared? I’m not scared." I picked up the remaining pill and swallowed it.
Everything went in slow motion. Was this who I had become? Was this the same boy from high school? And just before I could swallow, I spat out the pill. She was shocked. I picked up the pill again, dried it with my jacket, and put it back in her fist. "Maybe later!" I shouted, running back to the group, over my shoulder.
I have nothing to say to 9 out of 10 peers I come across. Of course, I can be social. I can also have fun with random people in random situations, but that night, it just tired me out. I also didn't understand what we were doing there. Those girls found me strange anyway. Suddenly, I was the fifth wheel.
"We know this place where they go until 7 in the morning!" The girl leader of the group spoke. I wanted to go home. "If you guys want, you can go. Don't worry about me," I said to Gurb and Louis. The boys had a brief discussion. We agreed to stay for just a little while longer for some drinks. I consented. I was thirsty. "I'll have a Fanta, Louis."
Gurb had reached the last cigarette in his pack. Louis and a girl from the group were nowhere to be found. It didn't even bother me. This guy just walks around with some cash in his pocket and all hell breaks loose. After a night full of stimuli, I understood Louis. Of course, I understood Louis. He's a young god. Handsome, smart guy. But that didn't make me any less angry. It was purely about trust for me. Something inside me said I should stop subconsciously expecting things from people too. It prevents disappointment.
"Hotel please!" I jokingly suggested to Gurb. "Should you call Louis or should I?" I added. Gurb immediately grabbed his Android smartphone and called Louis. He put the call on speaker.
"Are you ready?" Gurb asked.
"Yeah. Sort of."
"What do you mean?"
"We didn't have sex."
"That's fine, right? Tomorrow's a new day!"
"I think I'm in love, man," Louis said.
"...," Gurb said, chuckling as he let out a sigh.
Once we arrived at the girls' hostel, it was already getting light. Louis was thankfully back. There were stains on his pants, around his knees. My focus was solely on arranging a taxi. Although the boys were still flirting, I was really done now. "How are we going to pay for this taxi?" I said a bit too loudly.
There was a silence. "Don't worry. I still have cash," Gurb said.
"Yeah, I knew you would," I replied.
My words clearly hit Louis. "What do you mean by that?" he said.
It was as if time stood still for a few seconds. "Exactly what I said. Better listen." Louis pulled out a small wad of green bills from his pocket. At least 400 euros. "I don't even want to see that money," I reacted. I walked away.
I'll just order a taxi myself.
"Why are you walking away now?" Gurb said.
"Twelve hours ago, I was alone too, and I had a lot more fun then."
"Do you really want to know how I got this money?" Louis said.
Yes, I did want to know. My whole evening revolved around that damn money.
He took a second of pause before he began speaking. "The answer lies in the Mini."
What on earth could be in Gurb's mother's car? Louis was trying to get into my head. "Taxi!"
Once in the taxi, the division was clear. Gurb was upfront, chatting animatedly with the driver. All adventures ever were recounted. Louis and I in the back. One of my best friends since I was thirteen. Funny how things turn out. It was quiet between us. I was in my head, rehearsing how I would bring up the money again. It didn't add up, and he knew it himself. "I don't care, you know," I said, hoping he'd break.
"What don't you care about?"
"About that money."
"What money? You're really a crazy woozy man." Louis burst out laughing again.
On the other hand, it was silent. Gurb had started talking about the driver's family. The driver didn't appreciate it. Gurb meant well. The driver smelled of alcohol. Or was it me? His nails were polished. Maybe his wife was a specialist. I bite my nails myself. Like now.
"In the Mini, oh yeah."
"Shut up. Illegal man."
"You'll never know."
"Stop playing. Just say it!"
Louis grabbed my head, pulled himself towards me, and brought his mouth to my right ear. "Why so serious?" he whispered. He didn't want to tell me.
"But always with this damn money, huh?" I almost shouted at Louis. I broke every silence within a radius of 10 kilometers.
"I'm trying my best, bro. It is what it is. I can't make it any different," he replied. It was clearly bothering him deeply. He ran his hands through his hair. "Sometimes people have to do things. And you know that better than anyone. Sometimes they have to do things they don't really want to or aren't supposed to do."
I knew this spiel all too well. Through all the drunken haziness, I suddenly saw a small glimmer of light. A tiny spark of sincerity. Louis was serious this time.
"I'm sorry. I didn't want to involve you in this. I'm sorry," sweat dripped from his forehead.
"You're serious, huh? Damn, man. What mess have you gotten yourself into now? Worse than Terschelling?" Worse than Terschelling would mean stolen goods. Maybe even violence.
"It's not what you think."
"The Adlon Hotel, right?" the driver chimed in. Always saved by the bell, that Louis.
Suddenly I hit my head against the seat in front of me. Of course, I wasn't wearing my seatbelt. The last thing I saw was Gurb waking up in panic from his drunken stupor. One by one, I started losing my senses. It started with the feeling in my fingers. For a brief moment, everything wasn't quite black, and I could only see a vague pattern of colors repeating inside my eyelids. You could compare it to the brief moment after the commercial break before the movie starts in the cinema. The movie was about to begin.
I knew I wasn't dying. At least not yet. Not like this. Not after an overall mediocre night out in Berlin. I found comfort in the image I forced myself to see. It was all in my head. There I was, unconscious.
I saw myself in a third-person point of view. It wasn't like I was actually leaving my body. More like there was a webcam hanging in one of the upper corners of the taxi.
As a child, I used to dream a lot about death. Nights spent awake.
At some point, I developed a kind of compulsive behavior. I kept swaying my torso from left to right with my hands under my head. It became almost like a workout before bedtime. Every night.
I called it dream shuffling. Just like I had learned to shuffle puzzle pieces or playing cards. Making things a little exciting for yourself. But what I almost never told anyone was that I was scared. I was afraid of burglars, who were very agile and muscular.
Especially afraid that they would murder me. I really wanted to know what death was like. It scared me.
These fear visions originated during an all-inclusive vacation in Turkey. I was 6 years old and already in bed. There was a big old TV in our hotel room, so I could secretly watch TV from bed. Every evening, my parents sat on the balcony. Here they discussed their day while enjoying a glass of alcohol. There was a Japanese animated series on TV. In the few seconds that I watched, I saw a scary creature climbing a sort of apartment complex via the balconies. The creature had hundreds of teeth and blond hair. It quickly entered to decapitate the people, then drained them and, as a final insult, robbed them. Dozens of carcasses of dead people were scattered around the apartment complex. The complex on TV resembled the resort where we were in reality, and the TV world merged with my surroundings. I became part of it. I saw people watching. No matter how loudly I screamed for help, they didn't react. The sun became very bright, and the people turned into nothing more than shadows. As the intensity of the sun increased, something became clear to me. These were not people. They had a sort of orange skin. Where I had previously thought it was their nose and mouth, it turned out that these shadowy figures did not have such physical features. They simply had three holes in their heads. The police tried to do something, but in vain. Since then, we always kept the light on in the hallway outside my bedroom. By rocking back and forth, from left to right, I could glance fleetingly at the beam of light under the door. That bit of light, escaping from the hallway into my room, gave me an advantage. It allowed me to stay one step ahead of the burglars. Pretty smart, right?
"From Jamaica to the world!
It’s just love. Why must the children play in the street?"
It was Bob Sinclar with "Love Generation" speaking to us through the taxi's speakers. We were stationary. I was conscious again, but I didn't feel alive at all. "How long was I out?" I asked Louis.
I could tell by his expression that he was relieved. Relieved that I was back. "One minute," he almost apologized. Louis gave me a pat on the shoulder. Gurb, on the other hand, was sleeping. He slept like a baby cub.
I put my right index finger on my forehead. It felt wet, but it wasn't blood. Blood feels different. Meanwhile, I kept hearing whistling.
"Be the love generation! Oh yeah!" It was still that same song by Bob Sinclar.
The earlier scent of alcohol had now been replaced by the smell of incense. It smelled like the same incense I had in my room. Sold to me as Tibetan 39 incense. I had bought it at a coffee shop in Rotterdam. I pulled up my notes on my phone. "Who lights incense in a CAR????" I let Louis read from my screen. He took the phone from my hands and started typing as well.
"Look at Gurb >>>" Gurb was so deeply asleep that his head drooped. His seatbelt held his torso in place, but his head ended up on the driver's shoulder. The man didn't mind. He didn't move. I made eye contact with the driver through the rearview mirror, and soon I found him. He winked at me.
We arrived at the hotel. Gurb awakened from his alcoholic hibernation. "Who's going to pay for the taxi?" I asked. Clearly rhetorical. I already knew I would take this one for the team, as usual. I refused to use Louis's money. It was uncomfortably quiet. "By card please," I said.
"I'll always protect you, Louis. You really need to know that. I care about you like my own little brother. I'll always try to help you. But you have to be honest with me. Can you do that?" Louis didn't hesitate.
"Yes. Yes, I can. I'll show you. It's really in the Mini." Meanwhile, the taxi driver's card machine indicated that I had insufficient funds. That couldn't be right. Maybe I had withdrawn too much that evening.
"I have cash in the hotel room," Gurb said to me. Gurb informed the driver in broken English that he would go get his cash. The driver agreed. Money is money, whether it comes now or later. As long as it feels good in your hands.
Louis and I got out of the taxi. "You're not going to light a cigarette now, are you?" Louis wanted to smoke. "Especially for stress. That's really for people who can't handle pain. You need to feel pain. Pain needs to brand you for the rest of your life so you finally learn not to do such stupid things." It fell silent again. My blood boiled. All pots were on the stove. I felt like Gordon Ramsay in the kitchen. "Show me then. Do it."
Louis remained silent and walked around the corner of the hotel. Towards the parking lot. I followed him. "You're not going to find much," said Louis.
"Why not? Are you a magician?"
"No. Just. Not much."
"So there's suddenly magically nothing in Gurb's car?"
"Stop. Get out. Get out of my head!" Louis shouted. Louis had had enough. He was done with the parade. Normally we dealt with hypothetical stories. Only this time it wasn't a joke. I was sure now. Louis had dropped his mask. The revolution had begun. The government had fallen and the dikes had broken. The people were in charge. "You shouldn't freak out like this. Always wanting more. Sweet boy, think about yourself."
After Gurb gave the money to the driver, he came to us. He had a smile on his face, lit a cigarette, and exclaimed, "Brothers!" Once with us, he hugged me. He started laughing. "Maybe I haven't been entirely honest either." Sometimes Gurb seemed like a 38-year-old man. In a positive way. He exuded confidence in a way I didn't often see. Affectionate, with a hint of authority.
We stood in the middle of a large parking lot. "Look. We've reached a point where I might not even care anymore. You guys are teasing me." It did matter to me. Maybe more than ever. I was supposed to be two steps ahead of them, but I couldn't figure it out. "I give up."
The delightful silence returned. Louis and Gurb looked at each other. "You guys win. Apparently, I'm not to be trusted as a friend."
From Louis's expression, I could tell he disagreed with this. "Not true. Come to the car."
We arrived at the car. Louis unlocked it and searched for the trunk button. Gurb had started his third cigarette. "It's a corpse, isn't it? Say it now. I can still help you. I can still help us. I can book a ticket for you. We can get you out of here," I said to Louis.
"Just wait. Nutcase."
"Why won't you accept my help?"
Louis started laughing nervously. Or at least it seemed that way. Perhaps a sly laugh too. Had Louis killed someone? "It's not a corpse. That can't be. You wouldn't be stupid enough to use their ID. You're smarter than that. So it must be something stolen. Haven't you found that button yet?"
Suddenly, we heard a click. Louis had found the button. Somewhere, I didn't want to know. Shouldn't I just trust Louis? Wasn't that the whole point of friendship?
Finally, the moment had arrived. I placed my right hand in the slot of the rear hatch. Something in me doubted. Still. I still doubted. Louis looked dead serious. "You wanted to know, didn't you? Then you also have to be man enough to accept it." Louis was clearly not joking. Or was he acting again? "Pussy," Louis said. I looked away. "You're afraid of what's inside, huh? You're afraid of the real Louis." He began to laugh manically. "Open that thing, man. Nutcase!"
I started laughing too. Why did I make such a big deal out of it? Sweat broke out from every pore in my body. It was even a bit damp in the no man's land between my scrotum and my anus. A tropical climate. It had been quite an adventure the whole evening. I took my hand off the rear hatch and first gave Louis a hug. Not some half-hearted birthday wish. No, a real hug.
"It's okay, buddy," Louis said to me. I had no idea what he meant by that. It fit the moment though.
It was really time now. I opened the rear hatch.
"Where is it?"
"In front of you," said Louis.
"In some secret compartment?"
There was nothing in the trunk. Absolutely nothing. An empty trunk. For an empty evening, in an empty Berlin, with an empty group of guys. I didn't get it.
"You won, man," I whispered. "You finally fucking done did it."
I couldn't believe my eyes. Empty? There was still nothing in the car. Louis just stood there. Emotionally, I was a wreck. I had felt every emotion this evening. Seen every color and smelled every scent. I was done. My body was ready. No longer needed. My mission was complete.
"But why did you do this?" I asked Louis, laughing.
He scratched his chin. It felt like the end of a bad movie.
"I sold our Playstation. Wanted to tell you only after I had sorted everything out again. I terminated my lease. Had some debts, and I also wanted to have some money for once. Once not empty-handed in the club. Once not dependent on my best friends. This is not who I am... I know how much that Playstation meant to you. It was ours together. I should have just told you."
"… and how does Gurb actually make his money?"

I finally wanna get an espress machine for at home! I've been using a v60 and Bialetti moka pot before but I don't go to a coffee shop often anymore and I miss my shots.
I'm doubting between the Flair Classic/Pro2 and the Sage Bambino. I am not interested in milk and if need be I can always get a seperate appliance for that later on. However, I do want quality shots for my girlfriend and me.
I really like the ritual that the Flair provides. I don't mind putting the time in. I'm just wondering if the Classic can produce a double shot?
I have found 1 shop with the Flair Pro 2 in Europe. Is it worth the extra cost compared to the Classic? 360 euro vs 260 euro (including the pressure guage). It looks like it has a couple of things going for it compared to the Classic:

• removable spout
• enhanced bottomless portafilter
• a gauge guard for increased durability
• a silicone grip
• More volume in portafilter and thus in yields (is this true?). So it could produce bigger shots.

That does sound like it would be worth it! My budget is around 350 euro.
// EDIT: my grinder isn't ideal: a Baratza Encore but I'll try to hack it for now to make it work. If it doesn't work out I can get a manual grinder focused on espresso grinds.

In the 1970s or so Revere ware made a line of pots and pans where the stainless pan was fully coated with a thin layer of copper on the outside. The handles were brass instead of Bakelite. Unlike the earlier copper bottom Revere ware the copper coating is pretty thin, more cosmetic than functional.
Are those pans oven safe or would the copper / brass be at risk of damage from the oven?