[For Sale]Alchemist, Clams Casino, El-P, Ghostface, The Roots, Bill Woods, Miles Davis, Andrew Hill, Hank Mobley, Lonnie Smith, Turrentine, Mr. Projectile, Mum
I splurged too much for the holidays so I gotta try to make some funds to compensate… out with old and in with the new.
Most records are opened but (NM/NM | LP/Sleeve) unless otherwise marked. All have been stored in plastic outer sleeves and generic Mofi-style inner sleeves. VMP albums come with everything. Aiming to match retail / ~lower Discogs / here. (Don’t forget, no tax!) If anything is out of line, please let me know. Feel free to throw out offers.
Full photo album upon request. Shipping is included. I will combine shipping and reduce your total if you buy multiple. All opened records will be shipped outside of jacket in a sturdy mailer with extra cardboard sheets and/or bubblewrap. If the album has a custom inner sleeve, I will ship your vinyl in a generic waster sleeve along with the original inner sleeve and outer jacket. Paypal G & S please.
Alchemist & Freddie Gibbs – Alfredo (VG+/NM, HHV neon yellow, seam split from shipping, record is mint) - $39 - SOLD
Clams Casino - Moon Trip Radio (BL) - $21
El-P - I'll Sleep When You're Dead (VG+/NM, VMP, still some scuffs but not as bad as the other one) - $23. (they gave me this one as a replacement)
El-P - I'll Sleep When You're Dead (VG/NM, VMP, shit pressing w/ lots of microscuffs. slight surface noise) - $15 - SOLD
Ghostface – Fishscales (VMP) - $36
Billy Woods – Dour Candy (sealed) - $43
The Roots – Things Fall Apart (deluxe, sealed, 3LP) - $80
Chick Corea - Now He Sings, Now He Sobs - $22 - SOLD
Miles Davis - Vol 2 - $16
Andrew Hill – Black Fire (BNTP) - $22 - SOLD
Andrew Hill – Smokestack (BN80) - $18
Freddie Hubbard - Blue Spirits (VG+, NM) - $13
Hank Mobley – Poppin’ (BNTP) - $22 - SOLD
Charlie Parker - Charlie Parker with Strings - $16
Lonnie Smith - Think! (NM/VG+, BN80) - $16
Lonnie Smith - Live at Club Mozambique (NM/VG+, BN80) - $19
Lonnie Smith - All in My Mind (BNTP) - $22
Buy all Lonnie Smith for $50
Stanley Turrentine - Comin Your Way (BNTP) - $22 - SOLD
Mr. Projectile – Pug Times - $33 (I know Discogs has it lower but I had to pay intnl shipping to get it here)
Mr. Projectile – Sinking Sampler - $33
Mr. Projectile – And They Met (NM, VG+, EP) - $8
Mr. Projectile – Love Here (NM, VG+, EP) - $8
Buy all Mr. Projectile for $65.
Mum – Early Birds - $22
Mainly looking to sell unless anyone has some Cookin’ Soul they are willing to part with.
[For Sale] MF Doom, Clams, RTJ, El-P, Ta-ku, Blue Note TP, Blue Note 80, jazz
Out with the old, in with the new: All records are opened but (NM/NM | LP/Sleeve) unless otherwise marked. Aiming for fair prices. If anything is out of line, please let me know.
Full photo album upon request. Shipping is included. Will combine shipping as much as poss to save you money (have several large mailers left). All records will be shipped outside of the jacket in sturdy mailers with extra cardboard and bubblewrap (I pride myself on secure packing.) Buy multiple and we can talk discount.
Hip-Hop
Clams Casino - Moon Trip Radio (BL) - $24
El-P - I'll Sleep When You're Dead (VG/NM, VMP, shit pressing w/ lots of scuffs. slight surface noise) - $25.
This post essentially builds off TheIpleJonesion’s fantastic lore, explaining the situation which Portugal and her former territories find themselves in during the early 1980s. It is broken down along geographic lines.
The Metropolitan (Continental Portugal and the Outer Island Provinces of the Azores, Madeira, Cabo Verde and São Tomé & Príncipe):
With the removal of the Salazar regime in 1954, Portugal transitioned into a military-dominated presidential republic. Liberal market reforms made by the democratically-elected Fraternity Party saw an end to state interventionism in the Portuguese economy and a move away from corporatist macroeconomic organisation towards capitalistic free-market economics. This transformed the predominately-agricultural Portuguese economy into an industrial powerhouse, as factories popped up across the continental provinces in what is now jokingly referred to as the ‘Portuguese Industrial Revolution’. As Portugal modernised its economy, it attained a developmental trajectory similar to that of the Asian Tigers IOTL. This was only helped by the extremely cheap importation of primary resources from Portugal’s former colonies in Africa, and the discount export markets which the escudo africano monetary area had established in these nations. Portugal’s economic ascension was accompanied by huge progress in the fields of education and infrastructure, as bridges and roads were constructed and continental illiteracy abolished. Owing to its pro-business sympathies and dubious ties to the economic elite, the Fraternity Party ensured that no anti-trust measures were implemented as part of its economic reform strategy, allowing the influential ‘40 Families’ of Portugal’s south to expand their dominion over those sectors of the Portuguese economy that were privatised during the post-Salazar liberalisation. The result was an economic model that verged on plutocracy, as the anti-communist military conspired with powerful businessmen and corrupt Fraternity Party politicians to maintain the upper class’ hold on power. This alliance of convenience continued up until the late seventies when a cadre of disillusioned, left-leaning junior military officers led a mass of young conscripts to seize power in the infamous 1976 Carnation Revolution. The Revolution, which in many ways resembled the anti-Salazar coup 22 years prior, saw the passage of new anti-trust and anti-corruption laws after the democratically-socialist Movement for Democratic Unity’s (MDU) victory in the junta-supervised elections of 1977. Though the Revolution would establish a fairer two-party democratic system in which the Conservative Party (the successor to the Fraternity Party) would compete with the MDU in free elections, it also confirmed for a second time the military’s position as a powerful force in Portuguese politics. As such, despite the removal of plutocracy and the reinstatement of fair elections, the Portugal of the 1980s remains a “flawed democracy” according to most outside observer assessments. Though this chaos certainly had a negative impact on Portuguese standards of living, the nation remains a dynamic economic force in Europe and an over-achiever when it comes to developmental outcomes. As the 1980s continue on, Portugal is beginning its transition away from heavy industry towards a stronger services sector while it signs special trade agreements with its partners in the European Common Market and continues to pursue close economic ties with its former colonies of Guinea and Angola. From the sparkling beaches of São Tomé & Príncipe to the luscious fields of northern Portugal and the windswept hills of the Azores, there is no doubt that the Republic has become quite the enterprising nation.
The Outer Metropolitan (Portuguese India, Macau and Timor-Leste):
Portuguese India: Had the Indian subcontinent not fractured so easily in the late 1950s, it is difficult to see how Portugal would have been able to maintain any sort of presence in the territories of Goa, Daman, Diu, Dadra and Nagar-Haveli. The defeat of Indian forces in the Kashmir Conflict and the successful declaration of Dravidian independence after a bloody insurgency, however, created an opportunity for Portuguese policymakers. Years of economic development across Portuguese India and a deliberate policy of promoting an independent Portuguese-Indian identity strengthened Portugal’s claim to these territories, while deals signed with the US establishing an American naval base at Nova Goa and US protection over Portuguese India provided a strong deterrent. These gains were then solidified by deals with the Dravidian and Indian governments, which saw Portuguese sovereignty confirmed over Goa, Daman and Diu in return for Portugal ceding Dadra, Pani-Cola and Nagar-Haveli back to India, as well as the lending of strong military support to the Dravidians. Though there remains significant agitation across Portuguese India (now referred to as the Goa, Daman & Diu Province), Portuguese sovereignty over these increasingly productive and idyllic territories appears secure for the foreseeable future. What’s more, it is now not uncommon to see ethnic Indians roaming the streets of Continental Portugal as fully-fledged citizens. The long-desired union of Portugal to the Subcontinent finally appears complete. Macau: Macau is seen in the eyes of most as the crown jewel of Portugal’s Asian provinces. She is home to some of the most important banks in Asia and competes with Shanghai for the status of the financial capital of China. Not only that, but Macau competes with Bali, Jeju, Tokyo and Beijing for the most popular tourist destination in the Asian region, already being the destination of choice for the rich and famous, who flock to her many bars, casinos, prestigious restaurants and world-class designer fashion houses. The Macau of the 1980s is covered in stunning skyscrapers and jaw-dropping urban greenery. Indeed, the city boasts a population of nearly a million, with land reclamation projects having allowed for a vast expansion of the province’s urban domain. The city’s population includes tens of thousands of ethnic Portuguese residents, just as hundreds of thousands of ethnic Chiese now live in continental Portugal, being the second-largest ethnic minority community behind African migrants from Guinea, Mozambique and Angola, but ahead of Indian migrants from Goa. At any rate, just as Macau has in many ways become the financial and touristic centre of Asia, it has also become a centre for intrigue. The unsuccessful Chinese attempt to seize Macau by force in 1969, for example, only saw a further upgrade of the province’s military defences, with the permanent deployment of an extra submarine to Macau Habour alongside thousands of additional troops and another fighter squadron. Meanwhile, the ‘Bloody Game’ that started in the late 1950s between Portuguese and Chinese spies, local casino syndicates, corrupt local politicians and the four main triad groups continues to this day, with the southern portions of Macau city being known for violent crime and a dirty underworld. Indeed, it appears that the province is as vice-ridden as it is glamorous. Timor: A series of bilateral agreements in the 1950s saw Timor-Leste recognised as integral Portuguese territory by the Indonesians, just as the peninsula came under separate US/Australian/SEATO military protection, thus securing Portuguese rule over the territory indefinitely. Despite this, prohibitive travel times and ticket costs kept Timor physically isolated from the rest of the Portuguese Republic until the mid-1960s, when she suddenly gained access to far more state support as the African colonies achieved independence and international travel became easier. The Timor of the 1980s remains a quiet corner of the Portuguese world, although it has grown increasingly successful as a tourist and natural resource hub.
The former African colonies (Guinea, Angola, Cabinda and Mozambique):
Guinea: Having achieved her independence in 1965, the Guinean Republic maintained a slow but steady trajectory of economic development under close Portuguese supervision. Indeed, the nation remained remarkably stable throughout her first decades of independence, developing a fully-fledged democratic system over time which afforded it one of the highest standards of living among the continent’s independent states. Portugal’s close geographic proximity to Guinea, coupled with its near-identical struggle for democratic governance, has rendered the two nations close allies. Guinea remains the first port of call for Portuguese firms looking to establish a presence in Africa, with the nation functioning as the flagship model for Portuguese-African influence under the Silvestre Doctrine. Angola (and Cabinda): Though the Silvestre Doctrine had originally intended for the agricultural Ovimbundu people of Angola’s central plateau to dominate the Federal Angolan Republic post-independence (in a close alliance with the Portuguese), the unexpected strength of the rival Kimbundu people saw the two ethnic groups clash in a violent struggle for political power that lasted between 1964 and 1967. With Portuguese assets sustaining increasing damage during the bloody affair, Lisboa turned to its Kikongo allies in Angola’s north for assistance. United by its staunchly pro-Portuguese and anti-Communist leader from the nearby Ngbandi people of the then Belgian Congo, Mobutu Sese Seko, a powerful Kikongo army marched south and captured Luanda from the leftist Kimbundu militias. This placed Angola under the rule of Portugal’s Kikongo allies, who then turned to the Ovimbundu for additional political support, as well as the ethnic Portuguese and minority tribes of Angola’s south. Seko now rules Angola with an iron fist, using Portugal, the Ovimbundu, Portuguese-Angolans and the minority tribes to maintain power. His ties to Portuguese commercial interests have proven an immense asset for the Portuguese economy, which sees its manufacturing sector and domestic consumption fueled by cheap primary resource imports from Angola. Using his ethnic ties to the north, Seko became a major player in the war for Congolese independence, leveraging this assistance to become the political kingmaker in the newly-independent Republic of Zaire. This has resulted in Zaire effectively becoming a joint Luso-Angolan puppet state, with its government ministries littered with Portuguese and Angolan advisors, and the nation having joined the escudo africano monetary zone. Moreover, though it voted for independence in 1960, the Cabindan Republic was quickly subsumed into the Federal Angolan Republic as one of the conditions for an alliance between Seko’s Kikongo faction and the Portuguese. As a result, Luso-Angolan influence now runs from Luanda, past Zaire, into Cabinda and beyond towards the Republic of the Congo, making Angola one of the most powerful forces in the new Africa. Mozambique: The post-independence climate in the Mozambican Republic of 1965 resembled that of Angola at first. Rival ethnic groups clashed for power as election after election failed to yield clear results and cultural entities with little in common began to embrace armed struggle instead of the ballot. Unlike in Angola, however, Portugal was unable to salvage the situation and was forced to withdraw from the chaotic banana republic. Those ethnic Portuguese who had for centuries called Mozambique home largely fled to southern Angola or accepted government offers for free land in São Tomé & Príncipe, as Tanzanian-Arabian-backed Islamic militias fought for control in the north, and the African nationalist factions from the Shona tribes clashed with the leftist Shangaan in the south. Eventually, the Shona managed to secure national control, establishing a pan-African state under the dictatorial rule of Gondo Matombo. Without the support of sympathetic regimes in Rhodesia, Moscow or Beijing, the Free Nation of Mozambique is an isolated state. It maintains rivalries with Tanzania (as a result of Dodoma’s support for Salafist rebels in the north), North Rhodesia and Nyasaland (after the preceding Shangaan regime seized the Likoma and Chizumulu islands in 1966), South Africa and Rhodesia (for Mozambique’s support of radical pan-African insurgent groups) and Seko’s Angola (which obviously opposes the Matombo regime on ideological grounds). President Matombo’s chaotic economic policies have driven away foreign investors, while Mozambican civilians are organised en masse into autonomous units of the “African People’s Defence Militia” to defend against “Islamic subjugation, Boer segregation, Portuguese neocolonisation and the enslavement of the African people”. Sadly, it seems Mozambique’s violent decline managed only to produce the very worst kind of basket case dictatorship. A huge thanks to guyfromvault11 for being an amazing teammate, to the mods for a season well-run, and to all the other players for making this such an engaging season. I can’t wait for the next one!
First chapter here: https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/cbg4gs/damage_control_chapter_1/ So, this one's going to be a deep cut. If you haven't read the novels I've done before, this story throws you in at the deep end, and it spoils at least one major plot point from the 6th novel, Skin Hunger, as well as several other major plot points from other novels. If you want to catch up with that stuff, https://hellskitchensink.com/ check it out here. If you'd just like to jump into things, this is what matters: There are Atlanteans, an apparently fish-like race who have recently revealed themselves to humans, who have a population of approximately 50,000 and who are on the verge of extinction, and who were recently partially responsible for a near-catastrophe involving a war between a psychotic god of dreams and a primordial entity of stasis, and are trying to make amends. There is supernatural craziness. There is a top secret branch of the US Military- or possibly intelligence services, or maybe even just running loose- referred to as the Esoteric Forces of the United States. There's a lot of damage to control. ----
Chapter 3: Hel
USEF Report Dagon, section C (Culture), Paragraph 5-11, Rank HEL-6 Almost all of the 'threat' posed by the Atlanteans is, fundamentally, cultural. It is also largely unintentional. While the Atlantean capacity to develop gods is formidable compared to individual humans, their population is .001% that of humanity, and their rate of population increase is hovering at just shy of 0%. They cannot meaningfully invade us, and they sacrificed the element of surprise that could- conceivably- have let them conquer us. They are not a threat directly, and any genocidal actions on our part would not change that- The damage the Atlanteans can do has already been done. Obviously, the reverse is not true. The Atlanteans are a very small, discreet, and largely insular minority. These have historically been poorly treated in America, and literally every other nation. While legislation has been passed to recognize them as a protected minority, the current administration has shown a certain disregard. The survival of the Atlantean culture is threatened in a number of ways, not least the possibility of a repeat of the Neanderthal extinction. There is substantial evidence that humans and Neanderthals crossbred. This no doubt contributed to the gradual extinction of the Neanderthal. The possibility that someday the only sign remaining of the Atlanteans will be a certain cast of the eyes, a certain hair color, or a few dozen introns on the end of a DNA strand, is disconcertingly likely. Back to the issue of culture. Atlantean culture is broadly monarchic. Because of its small population and strained resources, collectivism has been endemic. These traits are likely to fade, but because of the long lifespans and conservative attitudes of older Atlanteans, this fading is likely to take place over decades, or even centuries. Many younger Atlanteans have begun to emigrate, many of them to other countries. This is a pain in the ass for security purposes, as almost all Atlanteans have access to information that is destabilizing, but the most we can hope to do is mitigate cultural harm by encouraging their integration. Large Atlantean populations- a thousand or more- have settled in the mouth of the Amazon River, the Thames, on the eastern shores of Puerto Rico, on the coast of New Orleans, and off the shore of Kyushu. Smaller populations- a hundred or more- have taken up shelter off Australia by Rottnest Island, the Vietnam coast near Hai Phong, in the Mozambique Channel by Madagascar, south of the Canary Islands, the Strait of Gibraltar, Copenhagen's bays, in the Baltic Sea, the Caspian Sea, and a sizable population in Lake Erie, right by Buffalo. The largest political push that the Atlanteans have been showing is for renewable energy sources and less water pollution. The Atlantean Queen, Ku-kaili-moku-polemo, has made a dramatic push for intervention in the Pacific Trash Gyre. There have notably been no Atlantean populations settled in India or China, possibly a commentary on the state of their ecological systems and water pollution; Unfortunately, this has also been a cause for increased tensions between the two nascent superpowers and the USA. More domestically, Atlanteans have managed to tap into the 'Crystal Spires and Togas' new age movement. While not fitting the classical Greek image of Atlanteans, their spirituality has attracted adherents to a number of small schools of meditation. While these might be uncharitably referred to as cults, the Atlantean attitude towards divinity and free will has largely kept them on the 'church' side of the divide. While the media has questioned the wisdom of Atlantean teachings being spread in the wake of the near-catastrophe last September, the EFUS attitude has been that creating a home-grown population of human divingeneers is worth the relatively small risk; We can't get this genie back in the bottle, but we can ask it for a few wishes. Chief Researcher Cherry H. Verne The helicopter was a misery. Loud, suspended above the ground, uncomfortably exposed. The jet, on the other hand, was a wonder. It moved through the air with only the most modest occasional turbulence, high above the clouds. I stared out of one of the windows, my breath caught in my throat as I watched the clouds drift far below, like sand dunes deep beneath the sea. Even the fastest currents of Atlantis had been limited compared to this speed. Atlantis had been small, and centralized. The humans lived across the vast and desiccated skin of their world, and sometimes they had to get from place to place quickly. Without the advantages of being able to leap between worlds with the intercedence of their gods, they came to novel solutions. It was not as convenient, but it wound up pushing them to greater heights. We travelled at speeds where the air itself became a kind of fluid, thick and turbulent, full of currents and doldrums. It was glorious. "Fucking son of a bitch," growled Miller. "The news got out. The Exquisition and the Peers are sending a delegation to join us. Using the goddamn Concorde. They'll be there before we will." His eyes flickered over to Smith, narrowing. "I know you like to think of us as having our lips fastened thoroughly to the royal teat, you metallic fuck, but I loathe those imperialist assholes. Not least because we both know they will demand the death of the Archmage. I didn't leak word, and nobody I told would. On the other hand..." Her eyes drifted over to Pagan. The Major sat on the far side of the aisle in the small craft, silently listening to the conversation. "The official policy of the Mexican Government is that any supernatural being found to be contravening the law in aid of organized crime, or taking the life of a human, is to be executed." The unspoken subtext in that statement was clear to everyone. The Mexican authorities would not want anyone to find out about any deals they cut. They would have good reason to keep the mission a secret. So, had someone betrayed one another? Or was the presence of an Archmage just that difficult to hide? How on earth had everything devolved so quickly? Miller groaned. "It gets worse. Chatter suggests that the Tongxinheli and the Indian Ministry of Housing and Urban Poverty Alleviation have learned about this, too. They're likely to get involved." "And they are hardly known for throwing away a useful resource," said Smith, teeth gritted. "Fucking arrogant pricks. What are they thinking?" "That the United States is unlikely to go to war over a man who, according to official statements, doesn't actually exist. They'll be out of their environment, though. They won't have access to heavy equipment- I don't care how secret the supernatural is, East Asian ordinance going off on U.S. soil is going to go over like a lead balloon. Their supernatural advantage will be..." He chewed the words for a moment, frowning. "Harder to judge. Both are capable of substantial, if inconsistent, supernatural power multipliers." "I am sorry," I said, finally pressured by sheer curiosity. "But- these groups-" "The Tonxinheli is a grab bag of mainland hick priests, Hong Kong triads, Tibetan monks working under duress, and Mongolian shamans, all being pressured- financially, diplomatically, or personally- by the Chinese government. The Ministry..." His face darkened. "They feed people to monsters," said Smith. "Usually poor, or undesirable." "No actual evidence of that," grumbled Miller, but not very loudly. "They've got some nasty alliances in the supernatural world. Blood's a lot closer to the skin, down there. Her Majesty's Most Loyal Exquisition is British. They mostly deal with faeries, because the fuckers are thick as flies over there, but we usually have close relations with them. The Peers started as an old knightly order descending from Charlemagne, and rose to prominence after World War 2 turned the Franco-German border into the largest source of Undead ever. There are rumors of a 'Bloody War' that they were involved in before that, but mostly, they're a bunch of overly religious technology-obsessed freaks." "You are playing an incredibly brave card there, metal-boy," said Smith, an eyebrow raised. "I did this to myself because I was suffering from severe PTSD, quadrapalegia, and had been manipulated by a psychotic monster. They did it because they thought pacts were unholy." He looked out the window, his brow wrinkled. "This is bad. This is fucked up on a scale that defies simple Murphy's Law. Everything's coming together too quickly." He shook his head. "Hope we're not putting our foot in another hornet's nest." I tried to think of something comforting to say, some way to encourage my superior officer. None were obvious to me. I settled for patting his shoulder companionably. "What is our plan, Sergeant?" "Twofold. We need to strike fast and hard when we get in, which means dividing." He gritted his teeth. "I hate to do this to you, not least because I want you close by where you can watch for ambushes, but I need you to check out the hotel. See what you can find out there. Any chance you can track down what supernaturals were in there?" "I can promise nothing, but if anyone can..." "Good." Miller nodded to the two foreign officials and the four men who had stayed silent in the back of the plane, dressed in heavy black fatigues, masks covering their faces, heavy weapons sleeved over their shoulders. The men were anonymous, but I could read them beneath those masks. Pulses of belief both strong and weak- One nostalgia, one fear, one anger, one loathing like I'd never seen, one joy and innocence, one ambivalent melancholy. I could see such things in the unguarded, and often, those who wore masks left their souls very bare indeed. "What will you be doing, Sergeant, if I may ask?" "The mission profile says that our man was bilking a local casino, the Treasure Chest, using... Well, they weren't entirely clear, but he'd won enough money to be odd. There's a possibility he may be going for one last big score there. Major Pagan, Jissika Smith, and I will be keeping an eye there. Privates, you'll be keeping an eye on the local traffic and making sure he doesn't rabbit without us knowing about it. If we don't find him in the next few hours, it's going to be damned near impossible to figure out where he goes. And if he goes to ground..." He didn't have to finish the statement. This was a man who could afford to spend decades in hiding. The plane landed in New Orleans, where we were studiously ignored by the locals. On the streets, I drew more than a few surprised glances as I walked, and even the occasional venomous look. There were a handful of Atlanteans in the city, but I did not keep my eye out for them. I slipped through the crowd without notice or care, making my way towards the hotel where the scene had been found. The police had not yet been notified. The scene of the crime was untouched. As I entered, I was struck by several things. The lack of blood, for one thing. The fact that, aside from the now-clearly-severed arm, there was no sign of the men supposedly murdered in this room. The lingering aroma of divinity. And finally, a slender, hard-knuckled fist. I awoke, in a large metallic room. A slender young man who nonetheless had wrinkles around the corners of his eyes from too much smiling was studying me. "Are you alright?" he asked, softly, in heavily accented English. "Sorry about the blow. Are you well?" Had I been a person entirely unlike myself, I might have responded violently. Sent current surging through the metal walls, fried every other person within, fought and struggled. Instead, I nodded. "You didn't strike anything particularly vital. Blow to the head, but I do not feel murky, or concussed." I studied him for a moment. He was slender, not very old, and his head was shaved bare. His warm brown eyes twinkled, and he wore a loose saffron robe. He had hit me at least as hard as Miller could, and he blazed with oddly tinted belief. Practically a furnace. The others... Three of them were humans. One of them was tall, broad-shouldered, a pair of black sunglasses over his eyes, dressed in a white business suit. A gun sat in a holster under one armpit, and a leather bag under the other. The second was dressed like a tourist, a colorful T-shirt, shorts, and sandals. He sat with the same ramrod stiffness I had seen in Pagan. The third had his hair up in a bright white turban, wrapped elegantly, with an impressive mane of black hair surrounding his face on all sides. I knew something of the significance of the garment to certain religions, but I did not recognize this specific variant off hand. This man was- I studied my memories- Latino, or Indian, judging by his features. The others were East Asian, I thought. Chinese, I decided, from the context of who was expected to get involved. The last person in the truck was not human in the least. Nearly seven feet tall, skin black not like a human's but like a burn victim's. Wiry but with muscles like coconuts stuffed into a stocking, her proportions were almost comical, massive tusks forcing her mouth open, growing in place of her canines. A long, red tongue hung out of her mouth, dripping reddish saliva onto the floor almost constantly. "" said the man in the tourist's clothing, "" He was speaking Mandarin Chinese. I had taken the time to learn Mandarin. The tonal nature of the language was unusual, but I had mastered it quickly. "You are safe," said the young man who had hit me. "What are you?" I asked, frowning as I studied him. That belief- Was it belief? Or divinity? He did not feel like a god, but he was not entirely human, either. I had read files about the human phenomenon of 'Heroes'- those who were, in a sense, gods made out of still-living humans. Was this what they looked like? "A humble monk," he said, bowing his head once. "" said the man who I now strongly suspected was the leader of this small group. "Does he speak English?" I asked, feigning lack of knowledge. Their assumptions were a useful tool. "He understands it," said the monk, giving me a warm smile. "I am more proficient, so he asks me to translate his words, so they are not misinterpreted. We are aware that the Atlanteans have made many agreements with the Americans. You more than many. We wish to offer you an alternative." "" "You have a choice in the matter, of course. We do not intend to abduct you. But if you should wish to explore your options, to experience what another government may be willing to offer, you can." He was elaborate. Eloquent. Trying to confuse his compatriots, whose English was not as good. I wondered about the wisdom of sending only one man who understood English so well. "Monk," said the man in the white business suit and the sunglasses, and his English sounded like he'd spent his entire life in the south, "don't go scarin' the lady by acting all vague and odd." He stepped forward, and settled down on his heels, coming level with me, eye to eye. "The monk's in this job because the government leans on his people, because that's the only way he'll work. The Political Officer there is here to make sure that he doesn't go AWOL. But I'm here because the PRC pays damn well. What you're looking for, what you want, they can provide. You just have to be willing to work together with them." "" asked the black-skinned creature, in some ancient and esoteric dialect of Hindi. "" murmured the man in the turban, in the same near-forgotten language. "" Alright, perhaps I cheat a bit in learning languages. Being able to read the soul of a man makes understanding them much easier when they speak. It was not the kind of talent I would ever broadcast. People were far more honest if they believed you could not understand them. I would hate to take that comfort from them. "What do you want from me?" I asked, allowing a tiny hint of the trepidation and fear I felt ease into my words. "" said the man in charge. "" "Nothing serious. We were alerted by contacts in the US government of a..." The man with the sunglasses paused, and frowned at the monk. "Bodhisattva?" asked the monk, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Of a very potent being," said the man in the sunglasses, forehead wrinkled in an obvious glare at the monk. "Since your people ain't been interested in joining the PRC, they've been... understandably tense. We find out about something that could give the Americans a greater advantage. Understandably, we want to avoid that." He smiled. "And if we can persuade you to give us a greater advantage, as well..." "I... I'm not sure. If I were to betray them- There could be repercussions. Strikes against my people." "" said the man in charge. "" "We just need a distraction. A chance to help this guy- Victim of at least a couple of genocides- escape from the governments that perpetuated those genocides." The man in the glasses smiled. "You know about the Westerners’ history. We never did anything like that." I did not correct him. "How will I contact you?" "Don't worry about that. We will know." The man in sunglasses winked as he patted me companionably on the shoulder. "Magic." I did not detect magic. I did detect the faint spark of electricity in the tiny thing he'd planted on my shoulder. It had sunk into the slick material of the raincoat. "" asked the political officer. The man in sunglasses smiled. "Consider it. Whatever you're looking for, we can certainly offer it." "I'll think about it," I said, letting the nervousness flow through my words. Disguising the planning, the certainty, that hid beneath. I would not switch sides. There were a thousand reasons, but they all condensed down to one. The game of sides was just that: A game. It was a distraction, and in the face of annihilation, a lethal one. These humans were positioning themselves to have the strongest position on the chessboard after it had been set on fire. The most logical solution to this was to destroy them, utterly, giving them no choice but to throw their efforts behind the EFUS. It was my side- By chance, but that was reason enough. As they stopped the truck- We had apparently been in the back of an 18-wheeler- and allowed me to return to the city, I strategized internally. If I simply alerted Miller or destroyed the scrying device, it would scare them off. Let the prey know that they had been scented. But if they committed themselves to the conflict, they would be forced to see it through. I studied the bug, and my brows knit. It was delicate, finer than an eyelash. That such a small, inconsequential thing could be used to track me, to transmit sound, was... impressive. Also annoying. I would have to avoid discharge. There was no question that something so delicate would be destroyed by the shocks I could produce. The phone in my pocket rang. I took it out, fumbling with the interface. The phone was a phenomenal device, though a strange one. An invisible network of oracles, allowing people across the world to speak, find information, plan things. I had seen the way humans cared for theirs, placed so much belief and thought into them. The only thing that kept them from awakening was that they were fragile, and not built to last. That was a terrible crime, to me and my people. To make a tool that was disposable. To create a tool that was never meant to be more. You built to last, because that was how you made a tool truly great, growing more potent with the years. This... I tried to think of the words to describe it. Child soldiers. Cancer-ridden fetuses. A thousand dark images. Then I hit the 'answer' button, because it had been ringing for nearly half a minute while I stared blankly. "Yes?" "Yeagerta! It's nearly sunset, I've called you three times, what's the news?" I shook my head. Strategy. "I was-" I let the silence hang for just a moment, as though I was planning to tell Miller. Showing the foreign agents what they expected, a self-interested person who thought themselves loyal, who had to talk themselves into betrayal. "Distraction. It took longer than I thought to sniff out the crime scene. I'm on my way now, and I've got bad news." "Shit. How bad?" "Your men might not be dead. They might just be hostages." "Aaaaah, double-shit! We tracked him down to the Treasure Chest Casino, but... Well, things are a little bit fraught here. Get here as quick as you can, I could use a voice of reason, or alternatively, another pair of fists." "Yes, Sergeant." I made my way to the address, up the stairs into a cheap motel, and into a doorway. I knocked twice, and the door opened. Major Pagan had a large machete in one hand, standing halfway out of her chair. She settled as she recognized me, and the ivory-handled machete disappeared like smoke in the wind. Jissika Smith had been holding a slender bone needle, carved in scrimshaw. The other three members of the room were somewhat less calm. The man and the woman in elegant evening dress were in a pact, I could tell- And the woman was visibly not human, her skin the color of silver, tall, thin, elfin, almost as tall as me. She stood with her long, delicate hands folded in front of her, the man with a drink in hand, the scent of sharp alcohol filling the air. The last... Well, I couldn't guess at their gender... was actually quite like Miller. The lines of electricity were not as all-encompassing as in him, but still encompassed the limbs, and significant portions of the torso. They sat at the corner, a weapon still drawn. I didn't recognize it, precisely, but it hummed softly, and clearly had a right side and a wrong side. The wrong side was aimed at me. "Fuck's sake, Anseis, you crazy bitch, she's more human than you or I am." The weapon was slowly raised towards the ceiling. The woman, superficially, did not look particularly odd. She was delicately built, slender, with skin as pale as milk, and rich golden hair, blue eyes piercing and cold. She was androgynous to the point that Miller's description of her was the only reason I could settle on 'female', and the long leather jacket she wore seemed wholly inappropriate for the hot, muggy environs. "You were studying the crime scene. Any sign of their assailants?" "Four demons. The archmage himself was not there. All of the demons left substantial traces of power. I'd say centuries old, at least, maybe more. I don't know what they were exactly, but..." "Four?" said the British man, an eyebrow raised. "You could distinguish them? Hell's bells, the man has four pacts?" "I suspect so," said Miller. "The mechanics aren't well-known, but being able to make and raise your own supernatural flying monkeys is probably going to make it simpler. So, one big, fat target, and at least four unknown bogies." He looked up. "I bet you've got a solution in place already." "The Heinlein is within firing distance, isn't it?" said Anseis. "An obvious solution suggests itself. Archmage or not..." "I'll accept any solutions that don't involve firing a weapon of mass destruction at a riverboat full of American citizens," said Miller. "I'd suggest coming up behind him and slitting his throat," said the British man, a slender stiletto appearing in his hand as quickly as Pagan's machete had disappeared from hers. "But if he were that easy to take down, I suspect someone already would have." "Three teams," said Miller. "One team evacuates the ship. That's Jissika, Punk Barnes, and Lady Featherbottom. One team confronts him- That's you and me, Anseis, we've got the best chance at surprising him or being able to take whatever he's got waiting for him. If there are any civilians hurt as collateral damage, I'm ripping you limb from limb. Then the last team- Major, and Yeagerta- You commandeer the ship. Once it's empty, you take control, move us away from the docks and out into open water." "He may be able to escape the ship regardless," said Anseis, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Yes. But he'll also be where a round from the Heinlein won't kill anyone I care about." This brought a smile to Anseis' lips, though not to her eyes. It was interesting, the way time skipped. It could move at a snail's pace as adrenaline and fear and violence made the brain rush, made it record every moment in brutal slow motion in the vain hope that it could make the right decisions. It could speed by like a shark through a current when nothing was happening and too much awareness would drive you mad with boredom. I observed the way the time passed, fast as lightning, until the moment when Pagan pushed open the door. "Department of Homeland Security," I said, holding up a forgery so good that the government didn't realize it was a forgery. "We've got reports of a lone wolf terrorist on the ship. You need to evacuate immediately while we get the situation under control." The men in the boat’s wheelhouse didn't argue. They looked happy enough for the unexpected vacation, if slightly worried about their prospects for employment tomorrow. Pagan checked the ship's controls, while I watched the screens. The British man and his fairy lady, along with Jissika, guiding the last of the passengers off of the ship. Unmooring it. The people on the ship were slowly streaming off, Miller and Anseis pushing through them, watching the crowd. "So," said Pagan, conversationally. "You joined the EFUS. Why?" "Chance," I said, checking for any sign of our target. "That doesn't seem like a very good reason," said Pagan, an eyebrow lifted. "It's why every patriot does what they do." “Really?” She smiled. “But you were not an American. You had a choice. You came into this world, and you chose them.” “Geographical convenience. And… I suppose… a lingering debt.” I smiled half-heartedly. “It was an American who saved our queen, and another American who offered us shelter. I am confident that any country would have done the same.” “Optimist,” she said, and there was a wry smile on her face. I realized I was seeing her amused. And there, in the main casino floor, in front of an unfamiliar but colorful table, a very short Native American man stood with a grin, one leg crossed in front of the other, leaning back against the table, cornered by Anseis and Sergeant Miller. He was dressed in an extremely fine black suit. I flicked a switch, and sound came through from a black grill beneath the screen. The man- I had to assume the Archmage- was speaking. "-already in place, ready to carry out simultaneous strikes throughout Washington D.C. You're already too late to stop me. I might remember it under torture, if you want to try." "My heart weeps," said Aneis. "I invite you to tell us, or I will shoot you-" It was amazing how quickly things went wrong. The entire ship lurched, throwing the three agents on the ship's edge onto the dock, tearing it free of its burdens. On screen, Aneis let out a single sharp scream of rage as something huge and sharp-toothed latched onto her leg, and then she was gone, water gushing up through the jagged hole in the floor. Miller was wrestling with a small, slender girl, built like a waif, who was also apparently overpowering him in a bear-hug, while a big man with bizarrely long and well-groomed facial hair, sticking out like whiskers, lunged at him from the side. The Archmage laughed, and was gone like a shot, running for the deck. "Things are going downhill," I said. "I'm going to go stop him from getting away." "Hey, if you run off with him and the US starts fielding a bunch of Archmages, I'm going to gut you," Pagan said, her voice calm and matter-of-fact even as I set out onto the deck. The short man was glaring down at the water, his arms crossed. "You are under arrest," I said. "I don't think I am," he responded, and I blinked. "I'm sorry to hear that. Would you rather be dead? Several of us want you dead." I studied him quietly. Were those listening to me already moving in? Had they taken the bait yet? If I could capture him... "You know, what I don't get is, you Atlanteans were being wiped out by humans. That's why you left, right? Ever since you came back, I've been turning it over and over in my head. Why would you come back? Why would you side with the people who genocided you before?" I blinked. "Because times change." "Really?" He grunted. "Give me another ten thousand years to think about it, maybe I'd be ready to make peace too. But I'm not quite there yet." He judged the water again. "I really am much faster than you in the water," I said. "Even if your abomination tries to stop me, I am definitely going to kill it, and catch you." "My! You're very certain about that." He looked over his shoulder at me, and grinned. "I've been doing this for a very long time." "So have I. Why?" "Why what? There are a lot of answers." "Why did you leave the spider there? She didn't have orders, or training. She was just an abandoned thing." "She was a tool," said the man, still distracted. "A thing to be used, and disposed of. That's what they all are." "Demons?" "People." He looked up, and his grin was wide and a little bit frightening. "Oh, those two bought the 'I'm fighting for my poor benighted people' thing, but fuck my people. Fuck them all. They thought that they knew what I was. Words like Yeahnáglóshii, Skinwalker... They thought they knew what I was. They thought it was simple. That I was neglecting my duty, that I was a monster, a freak, because I didn't believe that a simple accident of birth meant that the tribe was owed my power." He looked up at me, his head tilted. "God, all of this is going right over your head, isn't it? You're like me. A freak of nature. And because you're guilty about it, you'll spend your life trying to make up for the gift you were given." "It is funny," I said, though it was about as far from funny as it could be. "I never even considered that. I was always grateful that I could do something, anything, to help the people I loved. And while I hate demons, I could never imagine treating a tool so carelessly." I tilted my head. "Why do you do all of this?" He grinned. "Why not?" It was about the least heartening answer I could have gotten. “Are there really demons set to terrorize Washington?” “Yeah. They’re called Senators. I was just fucking with those two, seeing how they’d react under stress. It’s always interesting, isn’t it? Being above them all. Watching them play their games, and knowing that you’re playing a far more interesting game.” "Get down on the ground." "You know, I'd fight you, but-" He winced. "Looks like three of the four demons I spent centuries cultivating, strengthening, have just died. That's a blow." He shrugged. "I can always make more, though." He turned towards me, grinning. "I can still take you on with just one." "I'd like to see that." He straightened his shoulders, and grinned cheerfully, lifting one arm theatrically, his sleeve slipping down to the shoulder, exposing the bronzed, wrinkled skin. "Nothing up my sleeve, and presto change-o!" He blurred. I was already in motion as he jumped into the air, and I felt him slip through my fingers. Conservation of mass and energy did extremely strange things as he rocketed up nearly twenty feet in the shape of a small, very fluffy white bunny. A massive owl swept down out of the darkness, its divine energy muted so that I hadn't noticed it above me, and then was gone again, winging towards the swamps along the river with the archmage. I brushed my arms as I stood up, annoyed that I hadn't caught him, but watching. The ship was already shifting to follow him at a fast clip, and there was only so long a bird like that could fly. Sergeant Miller stepped onto the ship's deck, looking well-worn. He was missing an arm, and I stared for a moment. "Sergeant, are you okay?" "Fine, fine," he said, absently, glaring around the deck. "Tell me he didn't get away while I was putting down that fucking goonch." "What? Oh, no. We are in pursuit." I looked forward, narrowing my eyes. "Swamp village. Old, looks abandoned. We're maybe five or six miles away from it, going at ten knots." "Yeah?" said the sergeant, and he frowned. "Oddly detailed." "Just keeping my eye out, Miller," I said, and hoped he understood what I was saying. "Couldn't taze him?" "Not at the moment, Miller." "Huh." He nodded, his eyes on me for a very long moment. I hated the games. USEF Report Pallas, Appendix B (Known Accomplices), Paragraphs 69-76 Rank HEL-8 Not all of Athena's contacts and accomplices are as celebrated as the Cat of Paris. She is, after all, the Patron of Heroes, and this sometimes involves choosing people who no one would ever take for exceptional. Atina LeRoux is on the lowest end of these. Middle-class family, relatively unremarkable childhood marked only by a brief hours-long visit to a mental institution after she told a classmate she wanted to kill herself in high school, and three years of homeschooling from the age of eleven to fourteen that apparently permanently warped her social development. She took the LSATs twice, scored surprisingly well the second time, went to a mediocre law school, barely avoided failing out, passed the Bar, and then drifted. Her life up to this point has been marked by a distinct lack of focus or achievement. She's never done anything worth noting in the mundane sphere. She worked part-time legal work, keeping her head above water in New York City, until she moved upstate and tried starting her own practice, apparently resigned to the fact that she would spend the rest of her life in the same state of mediocrity. When the Jiang-shi known as Li Fang Fen (See USEF Report Hsien-Ko H1 and remind me to smack whatever moron convinced me that was an appropriate code-name) walked into her office seeking defense on a murder charge, it should have been a short path to an early grave or making a pact. Humans who discover the supernatural inevitably drift towards one of these two. Atina's only apparent talent is for paranoia. She has, in fact, managed to survive at least a handful of assassination attempts from supernatural creatures she has pissed off royally. Mostly by becoming a hermit. 90% of her socialization is with supernatural creatures at this point, with her only known pure-human contacts being her family, and some fry cook she's in an apparently unpredictable relationship with. This is all in keeping with Pallas Athena's strategies. In chess terms, Atina is a pawn. She's capable of very little, but is also generally below notice. The chances that she will figure prominently into one of Athena's schemes is extremely low, but the whole thing about pawns is that they take you by surprise, at an angle. Her resources are largely a surprising number of favors and control she's acquired in Binghamton, but she's still yet to put it to any particular use. As in the rest of her life, Atina LeRoux seems largely at loose ends. Aside from her connections with Jack Knife (See USEF Report Ripper FJ-5) and the Camazotz Jenny Nishi (See USEF Report Sparkly Vampires FJ-4), she has no notable power. One lingering concern remains: The Fishbelly incident. We still don't know what exactly happened in there, and no one in Binghamton is talking about it. The working theory is that Athena intervened directly, as she's occasionally wont to do. This in spite of the complete lack of any evidence of her presence. The mummy we interrogated after the fact claimed it was the work of a dragon, apparently traumatized by the encounter and prone to confabulation. We've combed the city from top to bottom, and there's no sign of anything that could be called a dragon. Every supernatural creature we interrogate about dragons gives the same answer: They’re extinct. I’m inclined to chalk it up to trauma. For now, I'd suggest stepping down surveillance to an occasional check-in. Given her position, means, and inclinations, Atina Leroux is a minor player. Chief Researcher Cherry H. Verne
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The co. has delayed its Q4 earnings release as it is planning for new revenue recognition rules. (Newswires) Additional US Equity Stories Equifax (EFX) – Regarding the recent data breach, Equifax have said that 2.4mln drivers license information was stolen last year. (Newswires) Kohl’s (KSS) – The co. is to test bringing Aldi in to 5/10 stories in 2018, further the CEO said he is very optimistic about the partnership with Amazon (AMZN). (Newswires) Netflix (NFLX) – The streaming service forecasts roughly 700 original series in 2018. (Variety) (Newswires)
A detailed analysis of Black Panther's attention to detail of African culture
I truly appreciate the level of research & intentionality this film has concerning how they incorporated the variety of African cultures into creating the Wakandan cultural, costume, & visual designs in Black Panther. For example: -The greeting of crossing one's right arm over the left across the chest then moving them straight down to one's sides is like that of the royal Egyptian gods & mummies (Egyptian gods were often portrayed bearing an ankh in each hand with arms crossed over their chest; the arms of royal male mummies during later dynastic periods were crossed @ the chest, as a reverential greeting toward the superior Egyptian gods they expected to meet in the afterlife; the arms of female mummies were usually laid straight @ their sides) -The isiXhosa (Nguni) language of the Xhosa-Bantu from South Africa, as well as Xhosa & Nigerian Igbo (M’Baku) influenced accents -The Ubuntu philosophy (“Ubuntu ngumtu ngabanye abantu”~“A person is a person through other people”) of South Africa a philosophical tenet embraced by T’Challa -The Nsibidi (Nigeria), Punic (ancient Carthage/modern-day Tunisia), Adinkra (Ghana), Heiroglyphic (ancient Egyptian), & Bogolanfini cloth (Mali) iconography -The homage to the Pan-African flag colors when they lined up Nakia (Green), T’Challa (Black), & Okoye (Red) on the elevated level of the underground Korean casino (The fact that the shot was taken on the elevated level is not lost on me.) -The Pan-African background music selections & dancing styles -The all-female Ahosi/Mino military regiment of the Fon from the Republic of Benin & the Maasi warriors from Kenya & Tanzania -The Fighting style of the Dora Milaje resembling that of the Donga staff fighting techniques of the Surma (Suri)/Mursi tribes of Ethiopia -The ceremonial masks of the Dogon of Mali -The weighted striking stick, spear, and shield wielded by T’Challa and Killmonger at Warrior Falls that favor the South African Zulu warrior weapons Induku, Iklwa (believed to be invented by Chief Shaka kaSenzangakhona aka Chief Shaka Zulu himself), and Isihlangu shields; weapons the Zulu warriors most likely wielded in the infamous battle of Isandlwana -The martial arts techniques utilized at Warrior Falls likened to that of the Ukungcweka or Zulu stick fighting technique, Senegalese Laamb or Sudanese Dinka Bor wrestling, and even the influence of Afro-Brasilian Capoeira exhibited in T’Challa’s use of deceptive kicking and feline quadrupedal fighting poses/positions -The South and East African long range/throwing clubs, like that of the Zulu’s Iwisa/Knobkierie clubs or the Rungu clubs of the Maasai Morans, wielded by M’Baku -The Sudano-Sahelian architecture styles and the reimagined cylindrical towers reminiscent of Zimbabwe’s Shona architecture -The lip plates & clay markings likened to the Mursi and Surma (Suri)/Mursi/Karo of Ethiopia, the Makonde of Tanzania & Mozambique, the Sara & Lobi of Chad, other Omo Valley tribes, & -The Sapeur (La Sape) style of the designer dandies from the Democratic Republic of the Congo (“Les Sapeur Congolais”) -The scarification/cicatrisation likened to those of the Toposa & Nuer from South Sudan, the Bodi & Surma of Ethiopia, the Karamojong of Uganda, & many others -The Otjize & hair styles of the Himba of northern Namibia -The Seanamarena blankets of the Basotho from Lesotho -The Kente cloth of the Akan from south Ghana & other textiles like Maasai Shuka (Kenya & Tanzania), Kitenge (East, West, & Central Africa), Ankara/Wax Print (West Africa), Aso Oke (Nigeria), etc. -The artistic designs inspired by Mali & Ndebele (Zibabwe/Botswana/South Africa) traditions -The Headwraps and brilliant indigo robes/caftans donned by Zuri & his tribe being reminiscent of the Tuareg of the sub-Sahara -The Zulu-inspired Isicholo/Inhloko hat donned by Queen Mother Ramonda -The Fula/Fulani & Tuareg inspired jewelry -The Kiondo baskets of Kenya and many more I am sure.
She’s really awesome. I have to say, as awesome as you might imagine. The brilliant, vibrant, upbeat and original personality. Working with her is a choice between focusing and laughing yourself into hysterics.
Well, one never knows! The Bond world is a world of secrets. So that remains to be seen. I love being a part of the series, and it would be wonderful to have Felix back in the mix again.
Yes, of course I’ve read the whole of the Hunger Games series. I think it would have been foolish not to, considering all of the wonderful detail and background story that they contain. They represent the whole cosmology of these character and habits. If I was going to be able to flesh out my character, I needed to know as much as possible, so I went there to discover that. There’s a lot there, but I think that Suzanne Collins tapped into something very much within the moment that we find ourselves in. On set, we’re continually amazed at the way in which the world outside the set is reflected within the world we’re trying to recreate from her books. The books and movies are directed towards young minds, which make them all the more exciting. This moment recently in Thailand, where protesters were throwing up the Hunger Games hand sign in the streets, was just kind of mind boggling and odd in the best way, and only indicative of Suzanne’s stories and ideas, and of these movies we’re all a part of.
I would like to say that the ends of my mustache twirl simply as a result of the sinister nature of Narcisse’s mind. That they just kind of curl on the end with the diabolical electricity that he generates. But if I’m to be more forthcoming, I would just have to chock it up to mustache wax.
I’d also like to say: tread gently my friend. It's a tricky and dangerous journey for the Valentin Narcisse's of the world.
My role models were pretty close to home. My mom, of course, my grandfather, who was a waterman on the Chesapeake Bay and also a farmer, a pitcher in a negro league and master storyteller and spinner of tall tales. He was just a fantastic character and a leader within his community. And then I was inspired by people that were involved in the Civil Rights Movement that I was born into, like Angela Davis, Shirley Chisholm, political folks. I guess it depended on the time of the day, and time of the week.
Wow, well thank you for that! That’s interesting because that tends to be how I view language and intonation and accents, in that I tend to read them as musical, and I particularly love and have been attuned to the music of dialects, although I don't always understand the reasons why. I’m fascinated by the way that cultures express their music through the way they speak, whether they’re Jamaican, Irish, etc. there’s just these lovely tones or notes that are specific to these cultures.
In this case, his music was that of the Dominican Republic and Washington Heights, New York. I tapped into his groove through a friend of mine who worked at a club that I used to frequent in Midtown, and he was Dominican and I always loved the way he would round the end of his words, he would drop and let them fade away before they quite reached the air.
That’s an interesting question. You know, I’ve had the opportunity to play some pretty diverse, interesting roles. I’m not really chomping at the bit to play anything other than what I’m in the midst of doing. With that said, there’s a film that were in the midst of pulling together that I think is pretty exciting. It’s the story of a fellow named Carlton Pearson, who was one of the biggest evangelical ministers in America a few years ago, who went through a fascinating experience that led to him being tried for heresy. That could be next on the horizon for me and I’m extremely curious to explore his story and his journey.
I guess the hardest role is very often the next role, if you’re lucky. If I look back, I would say Belize in Angels in America. When I first undertook that role on Broadway many eons ago, it was probably the hardest simply because the stakes were pretty high. As high as they get for us lowly actors, in that it was a play about the AIDS epidemic in America, when that epidemic was very hot. There was a sense of responsibility as actors and storytellers, yes, but also as citizens, not to shortchange the moment and to do it justice, and to do justice to the intent of Tony Kushner, the playwright. To respond to what were pretty bleak days.
Yeah, thats a great question, and a welcome question. We are in the process of ramping up our activity within the coming weeks. We’ve managed to pull in a new group of investors on the commercial side which will allow us to advance exploration on the gold side of things, which should be enormously productive. That is extraordinarily good news for us and for the project and for the community that comes in seriously challenging times for gold companies around the world. Over the last 18 to 24 months, the bottom has fallen out of the gold market. There’s been enormous economic pressure which has drawn investment in the exploration out of the space, so it’s significant. We’re excited that we can continue to develop and work there because obviously the intent behind what we’re doing is commercial in nature. At the same time, the large intent is the social impact we can have through the commercial side. In the social side, we’ve had some great philanthropic success with cacao and coffee. Last year, we were able to plant 13 thousand cacao seedlings, and that also diversifies the nature of our investments. We also brought in some local consultants to train farmers and enhance practices. So one harvest to the next, farmers saw a 62% increase in cacao because they were able to boost their marketability. Farmers in the area are terribly excited to continue these practices. And this is just the first step. And we carry on.
If you'd like to support and join me on the set of Boardwalk Empire, enter here: Link to www.omaze.com
One final thing, we are more than a little concerned about the Ebola epidemic that’s creeped into Sierra Leone and we’re keeping an eye on it. The outbreak is happening in the very nearby area in the east of Sierra Leone, so it’s extremely concerning and speaking further to the vulnerability of the region and the need for partnership to protect their well being.
Well, only if we do our jobs as well as you expect that we should! And I think as well it will break all of our hearts in some way because it will be the last season of what has been I think some stunning TV. Would love to have you be part of it all by joining me on set as we film the last season: Link to www.omaze.com
There was so much delicious stuff that the writers were feeding me. It’s really hard to choose which was tastier, but the introduction of the character was so layered and subtle that I just enjoyed jumping into the fray in the second episode. Those scenes were the first scenes, so if I have to choose between the wonder children, I’d have to choose the first one!
I think so, and it seems to me that I’m not alone in that, because the popularity of the stories would suggest that. I think the stories are relevant, not only in a way that’s relevant to our time, but I think there’s a kind of universal humanity that touches people that is timeless. Katniss, who is the focal point of this story, is a classically mythic figure, who undertakes these extraordinary adventures and who faces these phenomenal challenges, only to really make her way back home and back to the things that are granular and that are most dear to her and most intimate for her. We all understand that and we all get how meaningful that is.
My favorite part of working on Mockingjay, that’s kind of an easy question. My favorite part was working with all of the other actors and Francis Lawrence, our director. And being on set with the crew; the atmosphere and the feeling that was created is a combo of hard work and good focus.
I saw a documentary called Cry Freetown that followed the rebel invasion of January 6, 1999 into Freetown, the capital of Sierra Leone, which showed on CNN one Sunday evening and I was intensely moved by what I saw. It was shown from the perspective of young boys who were either victims or fighting there and I was sucked in. I had traveled to Africa a few years before, but the war didn’t come directly onto my radar until I saw that film. I started to read about everything that was happening there and it turns out, a year later, I was working on the film Ali in Mozambique and I was introduced to a gentlemen who was head of security for the film who had gone to Sierra Leone to set up a security operation there and he stayed throughout the war. He was curious that I knew a bit about what was happening in the country and I was curious about him and he invited me to go with him and see with my own eyes the condition of the country. That first trip was just to bear witness, but subsequently I became more deeply involved and Tai Peace Foundation became a hybrid of commercial and philanthropic investment that could contribute meaningfully to the efforts to rebuild the country, and to the efforts for long term job creation and long term sustainable social impact in a place that had been neglected for many years. That had enormous underutilized potential. It’s a beautiful country and it’s faced significant challenges, but it has the most hardworking people, verdant fertile land, some of the most gorgeous beaches in the world. It’s a country that we believe will thrive through the right types of partnerships. Through capable strategic partners and investors who will come in and listen to the local needs, and who, not through charity or patronage, but through a genuine desire to develop the place, will come in the long term. With all of those elements, and in the ideal, it could really soar. There’s been enormous progress since the end of the war and it’s been kind of breathtaking to witness. I’m excited about seeing its future successes as well.
Well, since you’ve only met her online, I think there’s probably any number of questions regarding whether or not she is who she says she is. I would say the chances that she is real are 50/50. That doesn’t mean it’s not possible. Why don’t you ask her who’s the best at forgetting their lines on set, and if it’s me, she might be onto something...
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