Guter Wein, mäßig genossen,
kann auch in großen Mengen nicht schädlich sein
Good wine, enjoyed moderately, cannot be harmful even in large quantities
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what's in it for me? (24)
it is just like you
to do whatever you want to do
like you can't lose
and you haven't got a thing to prove
is it worth my time
to discern your half-truths from your lies?
how can i take sides
when you've made a circle from a line?
in the games we play
is there not one rule you will not break
to get your way?
i'm not sure that you will ever change
guess it was just too much to ask for
you wouldn't face the honest truth
you had too much and yet wanted more
credit where credit isn't due
you couldn't see it any clearer
if it had hit you in the face
and as the end is drawing nearer
i'm not sure what difference it makes
how could you forgive yourself so easily?
i could never do the same
if your loyalty's an act of jealousy
i'm not sure how long you'll stay
i can't take another drawn out tragedy
i don't want another drink
quit pretending like you stand for anything
screaming "what's in it for me?"
"is it worth it?" you say
"is it worth it?" you say
"is it worth it for me?"
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In the Midst of Unseen Certainty
In the theatre of the cosmos, I find myself seated at the crossroads of belief and disbelief. On one hand, the theist, passionately defending his faith, on the other, the atheist steadfastly voicing his skepticism. I observe this dialogue as an unbiased spectator, each side offering a symphony of thoughts that forms a rich intellectual melody that resonates within me.
The perspectives of both…
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I deal with proselytizing by saying “I’m already a Christian, thank you.” and then fixing them with my steely dead-eyed gaze. Yes, the faggot already has found God. Move along.
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ok. thought. Could the fact that Claudia lied in her own private diary about not dreaming be an indicator that Claudia might have lied about other things in her diary? Is she maybe so scarred after Lestat and Louis read everything in her diary that she no longer writes her deepest thoughts, but only half truths in case they might read it again? Which puts into question the truth of every single scene we have from only her point of view, as she might have twisted what actually happened
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One thing I really want to see explored more when it comes to Nightmare’s character is the fact that he doesn’t lie.
Nightmare “never lies, only hides the truth.”
Nightmare being manipulative, twisting people’s words and disguising meanings is much more interesting than him simply lying to someone’s face and giggling about it later…
The amount of intentionality and intellect that goes into twisting the truth is, in my opinion, infinitely more intimidating.
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We don't envision season 5 right when we talk because what is that actually gonna be like? This isn't a romcom. Mike finds out about the painting but Will is like throwing up blood and slugs in the corner.
edit: to clarify I wasn't saying "no time for romance" I was saying "it's horror show with raises stakes and angst. Mike will have to figure out how to bring up this truth bomb he discovered when more important things are clearly going on and there aren't the most conversational opportunities". I mean MORE juice, not less.
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This election day, I'm thinking of my Nana.
I'm thinking of how as a young woman, she fled political violence in her native Colombia to build a new home in a more stable country. I'm thinking about how she lived a long life, but not long enough to see her home country elect its first ever progressive president (just a few months ago!).
Coincidentally, I was living in Colombia at that time (in the very city she grew up in), and I was able to witness what felt like a miracle. A very conservative country, suffering from the violent inheritance of colonization and catholic invasion and the war on drugs, against a backdrop of the dangerous global rise of the far right--this unlikely country managed to elect one of the most progressive heads of state in the world, in 2022. That's a pretty big deal.
And I'm thinking about this, this election day, because that election was won by a very thin margin. I'm thinking about how it almost didn't happen. I'm thinking about how it was only possible thanks to the highest voter turnout in 20 year. And I am thinking about the countless number of voters who chose to vote for the first time. I am thinking of the poorest and most disenfranchised citizens who showed up at the polls. I am thinking of the indigenous women who rode 12 hours on public buses to vote at the 'nearest' polling stations. I am thinking of all the money and corruption that went into preventing minority citizens from voting, and I'm thinking about how they showed up in the millions and voted anyway.
I am thinking that I would like to see a miracle like that in my own home country.
So if you're on the fence about waiting in line today to cast your vote, I hope that you will think--about the country you want to live in, the future you hope will unfold, and about all of the people it takes to make a miracle.
Because history may deem us nameless and faceless, but when we show up en masse, we are the ones who make history happen.
And yes, maybe also spare a thought for my Nana. Who was in fact a very angry and judgemental woman who supported the republican party for 50+ years, and who would be turning in her grave right now (if the family hadn't had her cremated). Think about the mean angry ghost of my Colombian grandmother, who very much wants you to not show up at the polls to support abortion and other sinful progressive values. Think about her. Do it for her. Do it for Nana.
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One of the few parts of Wickham's alleged backstory that I find purely comedic is his whole deal about how right before his father died, Darcy's father promised to provide for young Wickham, because he was just so grateful to Wickham's father as well as loving young Wickham so much.
—but in the letter, Darcy (without having heard Wickham's account in this case, beyond what Elizabeth threw at him in the rejection) mentions in passing that Wickham's father outlived his. His father did voluntarily recommend giving Wickham the living in his will, so Wickham isn't lying about that, but the whole dramatic deathbed promise thing is pure theatrics and Wickham's father didn't actually die until after the late Mr Darcy was already dead.
His own father did not long survive mine; and within half a year from these events Mr Wickham wrote to inform me that, having finally resolved against taking orders, he hoped I should not think it unreasonable for him to expect some more immediate pecuniary advantage...
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