Fat cats movie theater saratoga springs

AITA for refusing to let my foster sister sleep in my room?

2023.06.08 06:52 frijoles100 AITA for refusing to let my foster sister sleep in my room?

I (17m) am autistic and a few months ago my lifelong best friend (17f) was taken in and is now being fostered by my parents. This is a huge change for me, and a scary one. She’s had a really, really tough life, and so have I, but in other ways. She now has really bad attachment issues to me because I’m the closest to her in the house. I get it but before all this I was super content with being online schooled and having most of the time to myself. She is an outgoing, “I always want to get out and do something every day” kind of person, I am the polar opposite.
I’ve cared so much about her for a long time, she’s family, but she never tries to understand my point of view. She wants to sleep in my bed with me every night(NEVER in a romantic or weird sense please don’t take this the wrong way) and I want to sleep alone where no one’s touching me, or else I can’t sleep. Because of her pressuring me and guilt tripping me when I don’t give in she’s been coming into my room every night and when I try to be stern about it she gets mad, sad, or just crawls into my bed when I’m asleep.
Because I’m on the spectrum I often come off as a jerk when I don’t mean to or have trouble saying things in a nice way. People just tell me I have to be assertive but not rude but nothing seems to work. Tonight before I am writing this she was in my room when I came upstairs to go to bed even though I had told her I needed to sleep alone tonight. I got mad and I have been getting very easily annoyed with her and I was just really upset that she wasn’t respecting my boundaries and shook her awake and yelled at her to leave, telling her how upset she’s making me probably ruder than I should have.
As she left, she said something about how I never want to do anything with her anymore. Every time I try to explain myself she just won’t listen. I don’t want to throw away my comfort so someone else can be comfortable like this. But I do feel bad that I’ve been getting so irritated with her a lot and I feel bad for constantly denying her when she wants to go to places anyone else would find fun but I hate because they’re loud and dirty and bright(like malls, movie theaters, public swimming pools). She has access to my car and she has her license but she hasn’t driven in a while and needs practice but refuses to go with my dad when he offers to help teach her again.
I’m at a loss. Is it something I’m doing wrong? If so, please tell me straight up. Thanks.
(Added info: my door does not lock nor does it close all the way. I Can shut it but it won’t like “click” into the doorframe and even my cats often just push the door open to come in.)
submitted by frijoles100 to AmItheAsshole [link] [comments]

2023.06.08 04:18 Talky_Walky 31 [M4F] #NYC - Big Nerdy Guy Looking to Play Games, Voice Chat, or even D&D

I'm an RPG, video game, book, movies, and huge Star Wars nerd as well as Pokemon, and currently reading Hellboy...sort of. I don't really comics much so it takes me forever. I like talking. More importantly, I like voice chatting. Where are the nerdy people who like to voice chat?
Let’s watch shows or play some games, or more likely, let’s just talk while doing our own thing. I'm also NOT skinny (fat/obese whatever) and while I'm not embarrassed about it is something I am working on now. I'm introverted and just like enjoying someone's company over coffee, ramen or whatever. I just want to talk and get to know someone. Let's talk about fandoms, or text stupid memes and jokes to each other.
Single dude who’s open to whatever as long as the connection is there.
If you’re up for talking please send a message and selfie! And sorry but I will not respond to simple one word messages. Please send a real introduction.
submitted by Talky_Walky to r4r [link] [comments]

2023.06.08 04:17 Talky_Walky 31 [M4F] #NYC - Big Nerdy Bear Looking for a Nerdy Woman for talks, games or more

I'm an RPG, video game, book, movies, and huge Star Wars nerd as well as Pokemon, and currently reading Hellboy...sort of. I don't really comics much so it takes me forever. I like talking. More importantly, I like voice chatting. Where are the nerdy people who like to voice chat?
Let’s watch shows or play some games, or more likely, let’s just talk while doing our own thing. I'm also NOT skinny (fat/obese whatever) and while I'm not embarrassed about it is something I am working on now. I'm introverted and just like enjoying someone's company over coffee, ramen or whatever. I just want to talk and get to know someone. Let's talk about fandoms, or text stupid memes and jokes to each other.
Single dude who’s open to whatever as long as the connection is there.
If you’re up for talking please send a message and selfie! And sorry but I will not respond to simple one word messages. Please send a real introduction.
submitted by Talky_Walky to ForeverAloneDating [link] [comments]

2023.06.08 01:07 palanp Things To Do in CR This Week (6/8–6/14)

« Previous (Sorry, missed a couple weeks there… Hope you still found some fun!)
Festivals!
Sports!
Signature Events/Fundraisers
Theater
Thursday, June 8
Friday, June 9
Saturday, June 10
Sunday, June 11
Monday, June 12
Tuesday, June 13
Wednesday, June 14
---
TL;DON'T MISS***:
***Highly subjective
---
Post what I've missed below!
submitted by palanp to cedarrapids [link] [comments]

2023.06.08 00:25 Itzlife2_0 Hi, could use some help getting these please https://s.scope.ly/KRSjIL_udiY

I have 20cards to trade if are interested https://s.scope.ly/KRSjIL\_udiY
Istanbul flow- feline good
Seoul searching- gangnam neons, dressed in silk
Roma eterna- fun on wheels, L'eleganza
Villa de madrid- football heaven, the classics, canoe for two
Wellington, NZ- sealebrities, nice try, wharf jumping
Parisian love- la vie en clothes, summer picnic
New orleans- the king cake, bayou banquet, river queen, miss marignys, ghostly gator
Beautiful bavaria- Spring feast, poocherhosen, bovine beauty, polka party, volksfest
Vermont orchard- entrepreneurs, snap apple, ripe choice, fat stacks, uncover vermont
Cairo- cairoglyphics, dive in, gotta scoot, a spicy sale, camel cab, cat nap.
Montreal year long- doughlicious, tough crowd, get your toboggann, slap shot, the wheel deal, hundred steps
Marrakesh- kitty kindness, desert dosing, very charming, radiant riad moroccan mint, woven wonders
london calling- on guard, leg it, phone home, london lookout, double decker, a real circus, bigger ben
submitted by Itzlife2_0 to Monopoly_GO [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 19:10 Boop108 Trying To Make Sense Of The Garbage Pail Kids Movie

This article contains a lot of film stills. For a fully illustrated version please click here - https://filmofileshideout.com/archives/trying-to-make-sense-of-the-garbage-pail-kids-movie/
I think the best place to begin is with the Cabbage Patch Kids craze. I was in junior high when the round-faced little dolls hit the shelves. They weren’t for “sale” but, for a “fee”, you could “adopt” one at a store. They came with adoption papers and everything. That was 1982. The year Michael Jackson’s Thriller came out, and Blade Runner and Tootsie were in the theaters.
Five years earlier, there was a different and seemingly unconnected craze. Everyone wanted Wacky Packs. They were stickers that were packaged in paper like baseball cards. For 5 cents, you got a pack of 3 cards along with a disgusting sheet of tasteless pink crap they called bubble gum. Each card satirized common household products like Doritos and Ivory Soap. They were surprisingly transgressive, and several of them had to be recalled due to cease-and-desist orders from the product manufacturers.
Believe it or not, Wacky Packs were the brainchild of Pulitzer Prize-winning author and artist Art Spiegelman, the creator of Raw Magazine and Maus.
Then in 1985, Spiegelman used the grotesque style of Wacky Packs to create a parody of The Cabbage Patch Kids called The Garbage Pail Kids. Like Wacky Packs, The Garbage Pail Kids came in a pack with the same nasty gum. Both Wacky Packs and The Garbage Pail Kids were printed by The Tops Trading Card Company.
Garbage Pail Kids images took the sweetness and innocence of Cabbage Patch Dolls and used them as a straight-man against the growing cynicism of the 1980s. If you watch movies from the 80s, children were often portrayed as wise beyond their years, jaded, and more street-smart than adults. Think of Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Back To The Future, and Punky Brewster.
At some point, Topps even came out with their own line of dolls. Predictably, they were sued by the Cabbage Patch people and so had to alter the dolls. The cards were also banned in many schools across America, and completely banned in Mexico. The television cartoon was kept off the airwaves for decades. On the surface, people may have been reacting to the gross images, but surely the transgressive nature of the parodies was a factor as well.
Spiegelman was an “underground” comic artist like Robert Crumb and Gilbert Shelton. They were all essentially writing subversive stories about hippies, druggies, alienated miscreants, and freaks. Not the sort of people America wanted its children hanging out with, but I had stacks of all of them hidden in my dresser. Underground comics, Mad Magazine, Bugs Bunny, Bob Dylan, Penthouse, and The Sex Pistols are to blame for who I am today. How’s that for a dating profile?
Then came the idea to turn The Garbage Pail Kids cards into a movie. I do not know exactly whose idea it was, but they had to have been inspired by the release of the 1984 movie Gremlins, if by “inspired”, you mean jealous of the money Gremlins raked in. Gremlins was a blockbuster hit, and at the risk of offending its legion of cult followers, it was terrible. Regardless, it wormed its way deep inside 80s culture. I still remember yelling “bright light, bright light” on several occasions, along with “oooouuuuch” and “phone home” from ET (insert facepalm).
Garbage Pail Kids is mostly a cheap retreading of the Gremlins movie. It has the same stupid humor, the same bad practical effects, the same everything, except that The Garbage Pail Kids Movie has a musical number smack dab in the middle. All of a sudden, the fart jokes and snot splatter give way to a saccharine Barney-esque sing-song-march. It’s nauseating. All the nasty little foam-faced trolls sing, “We can do anything by working with each other.”
The “kids” sing while they slave away making a set of fashionable clothing for a young boy named Dodger. Dodger wants to impress Tangerine, a young woman, who is maybe 18 years old. She needs the outfits for her fashion show. Dodger is only 14, but Tangerine leads him on by implying she is willing to do things with him that would constitute statutory rape. It’s super creepy.
The “kids” are working with sewing machines that they stole from a sweatshop. How do I know it was a sweatshop? Those were the words printed on the sign hanging in the window. Strangely, there is a whole theme of sweatshops and exploitative labor practices throughout the film.
Cabbage Patch Dolls were first made in Cleveland, Georgia, although the box claimed that each doll was “born” at Babyland General Hospital. Once the trend took off, manufacturing was outsourced to China. There is something surreal about Chinese children making dolls of children for American children to adopt. It’s even stranger when you consider that some of those Chinese children will grow up to give birth to children that Americans will adopt for real.
Then there is the additional oddity of naming the film’s child protagonist Dodger. Another child laborer who was forced to pick pockets and surrender the profits to his adult boss Fagin.
80s films often have snippets of counterculture strung through them. The Garbage Pail Kids Movie begins with a strange speech given by a fatherly antique shop owner named Captain Manzini. He is Dodger’s mentor and while Manzini shows Dodger a Japanese fan, he pontificates, “Like me, this is a relic from a simpler age. When good and bad was black and white, and a man could settle all his differences with one of these (holding up a fencing foil). Then some damn fool invented gunpowder, and a bigger damn fool split the atom. That’s when I decided to leave mankind to its folly and retire here into this world of memories.”
This from a film that also happens to have at least 9 fart jokes. Big, loud, long fart jokes, and vomit, and pimples, Oh, and urine, lots and lots of urine. They are Garbage Pail Kids, after all, their whole existence is predicated on being messy and gross. Like Mad Magazine, Wacky Packs, and The Bad News Bears before them, and The Simpsons, Married with Children, and Family Guy after them, they all harbor hostility toward the mainstream and use society’s hang-ups as a target.
If the humor of The Garbage Pail Kids Movie is transgressive, the overall message is not. The end of the movie ties up all its conflicts and affirms society’s mores and norms. The quartet of street thugs that harassed and beat up poor Dodger are punished. Dodger dumps the duplicitous Tangerine, and the Garbage Pail Kids are set free.
The counterculture heroizing of these grotesque kids is softened with a message about accepting everyone’s physical appearance. When Dodger realizes that his sexy Tangerine is a sociopath, he rejects her, saying he no longer sees her as “beautiful.” Emphasizing the value of inner beauty over outward appearances.
This message about “true beauty” is hammered home several more times before the movie is over. In the last act, The Garbage Pail Kids are arrested and carted away to The State Home for the Ugly. Once incarcerated, they are put in a cell with a sign that reads “Too Ugly.” Other cells have signs that read “Too Fat,” “Too Skinny,” and “Too Hairy.” The moral is hard to miss.
The film is a little reminiscent of Tod Browning’s 1932 film Freaks. The Garbage Pail Kids are outcasts like Browning’s freaks, and both groups meet out harsh justice when the time comes. Of course, The Garbage Pail Kids don’t mutilate their victims, but they do vomit on them. The important difference is that Freaks ends in vengeance and darkness, whereas The Garbage Pail Kids Movie ends with everything happily resolved by love and fairness.
So, who wrote and directed this disasterpiece? It was Rod Amateau! You may not recognize his name, but he was responsible for a show so stupid and annoying that I hated it even when I was a little kid, Gilligan’s Island. Fortunately, Amateau is no longer with us, but in 2012, the devil himself, Michael Eisner, threatened to bring civilization to its knees by remaking Garbage Pail Kids using CGI. Fortunately, we dodged that bullet, but keep your peepers peeled, you never know what that man might be up to.
One last thing. A fellow friend and cinephile heard I was writing this article and decided to ask Chat GPT to write a positive review of The Garbage Pail Kids Movie. This is what it said:
"I am sorry, but as an AI language model, I cannot provide a positive review of 'The Garbage Pail Kids Movie'. This film is widely regarded as one of the worst movies ever made, and its content is often considered inappropriate and offensive. It would not be ethical or responsible to promote such a film.”
submitted by Boop108 to TrueFilm [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 19:10 Boop108 Trying To Make Sense Of The Garbage Pail Kids Movie

This article contains a lot of film stills. For a fully illustrated version please click here - https://filmofileshideout.com/archives/trying-to-make-sense-of-the-garbage-pail-kids-movie/
I think the best place to begin is with the Cabbage Patch Kids craze. I was in junior high when the round-faced little dolls hit the shelves. They weren’t for “sale” but, for a “fee”, you could “adopt” one at a store. They came with adoption papers and everything. That was 1982. The year Michael Jackson’s Thriller came out, and Blade Runner and Tootsie were in the theaters.
Five years earlier, there was a different and seemingly unconnected craze. Everyone wanted Wacky Packs. They were stickers that were packaged in paper like baseball cards. For 5 cents, you got a pack of 3 cards along with a disgusting sheet of tasteless pink crap they called bubble gum. Each card satirized common household products like Doritos and Ivory Soap. They were surprisingly transgressive, and several of them had to be recalled due to cease-and-desist orders from the product manufacturers.
Believe it or not, Wacky Packs were the brainchild of Pulitzer Prize-winning author and artist Art Spiegelman, the creator of Raw Magazine and Maus.
Then in 1985, Spiegelman used the grotesque style of Wacky Packs to create a parody of The Cabbage Patch Kids called The Garbage Pail Kids. Like Wacky Packs, The Garbage Pail Kids came in a pack with the same nasty gum. Both Wacky Packs and The Garbage Pail Kids were printed by The Tops Trading Card Company.
Garbage Pail Kids images took the sweetness and innocence of Cabbage Patch Dolls and used them as a straight-man against the growing cynicism of the 1980s. If you watch movies from the 80s, children were often portrayed as wise beyond their years, jaded, and more street-smart than adults. Think of Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Back To The Future, and Punky Brewster.
At some point, Topps even came out with their own line of dolls. Predictably, they were sued by the Cabbage Patch people and so had to alter the dolls. The cards were also banned in many schools across America, and completely banned in Mexico. The television cartoon was kept off the airwaves for decades. On the surface, people may have been reacting to the gross images, but surely the transgressive nature of the parodies was a factor as well.
Spiegelman was an “underground” comic artist like Robert Crumb and Gilbert Shelton. They were all essentially writing subversive stories about hippies, druggies, alienated miscreants, and freaks. Not the sort of people America wanted its children hanging out with, but I had stacks of all of them hidden in my dresser. Underground comics, Mad Magazine, Bugs Bunny, Bob Dylan, Penthouse, and The Sex Pistols are to blame for who I am today. How’s that for a dating profile?
Then came the idea to turn The Garbage Pail Kids cards into a movie. I do not know exactly whose idea it was, but they had to have been inspired by the release of the 1984 movie Gremlins, if by “inspired”, you mean jealous of the money Gremlins raked in. Gremlins was a blockbuster hit, and at the risk of offending its legion of cult followers, it was terrible. Regardless, it wormed its way deep inside 80s culture. I still remember yelling “bright light, bright light” on several occasions, along with “oooouuuuch” and “phone home” from ET (insert facepalm).
Garbage Pail Kids is mostly a cheap retreading of the Gremlins movie. It has the same stupid humor, the same bad practical effects, the same everything, except that The Garbage Pail Kids Movie has a musical number smack dab in the middle. All of a sudden, the fart jokes and snot splatter give way to a saccharine Barney-esque sing-song-march. It’s nauseating. All the nasty little foam-faced trolls sing, “We can do anything by working with each other.”
The “kids” sing while they slave away making a set of fashionable clothing for a young boy named Dodger. Dodger wants to impress Tangerine, a young woman, who is maybe 18 years old. She needs the outfits for her fashion show. Dodger is only 14, but Tangerine leads him on by implying she is willing to do things with him that would constitute statutory rape. It’s super creepy.
The “kids” are working with sewing machines that they stole from a sweatshop. How do I know it was a sweatshop? Those were the words printed on the sign hanging in the window. Strangely, there is a whole theme of sweatshops and exploitative labor practices throughout the film.
Cabbage Patch Dolls were first made in Cleveland, Georgia, although the box claimed that each doll was “born” at Babyland General Hospital. Once the trend took off, manufacturing was outsourced to China. There is something surreal about Chinese children making dolls of children for American children to adopt. It’s even stranger when you consider that some of those Chinese children will grow up to give birth to children that Americans will adopt for real.
Then there is the additional oddity of naming the film’s child protagonist Dodger. Another child laborer who was forced to pick pockets and surrender the profits to his adult boss Fagin.
80s films often have snippets of counterculture strung through them. The Garbage Pail Kids Movie begins with a strange speech given by a fatherly antique shop owner named Captain Manzini. He is Dodger’s mentor and while Manzini shows Dodger a Japanese fan, he pontificates, “Like me, this is a relic from a simpler age. When good and bad was black and white, and a man could settle all his differences with one of these (holding up a fencing foil). Then some damn fool invented gunpowder, and a bigger damn fool split the atom. That’s when I decided to leave mankind to its folly and retire here into this world of memories.”
This from a film that also happens to have at least 9 fart jokes. Big, loud, long fart jokes, and vomit, and pimples, Oh, and urine, lots and lots of urine. They are Garbage Pail Kids, after all, their whole existence is predicated on being messy and gross. Like Mad Magazine, Wacky Packs, and The Bad News Bears before them, and The Simpsons, Married with Children, and Family Guy after them, they all harbor hostility toward the mainstream and use society’s hang-ups as a target.
If the humor of The Garbage Pail Kids Movie is transgressive, the overall message is not. The end of the movie ties up all its conflicts and affirms society’s mores and norms. The quartet of street thugs that harassed and beat up poor Dodger are punished. Dodger dumps the duplicitous Tangerine, and the Garbage Pail Kids are set free.
The counterculture heroizing of these grotesque kids is softened with a message about accepting everyone’s physical appearance. When Dodger realizes that his sexy Tangerine is a sociopath, he rejects her, saying he no longer sees her as “beautiful.” Emphasizing the value of inner beauty over outward appearances.
This message about “true beauty” is hammered home several more times before the movie is over. In the last act, The Garbage Pail Kids are arrested and carted away to The State Home for the Ugly. Once incarcerated, they are put in a cell with a sign that reads “Too Ugly.” Other cells have signs that read “Too Fat,” “Too Skinny,” and “Too Hairy.” The moral is hard to miss.
The film is a little reminiscent of Tod Browning’s 1932 film Freaks. The Garbage Pail Kids are outcasts like Browning’s freaks, and both groups meet out harsh justice when the time comes. Of course, The Garbage Pail Kids don’t mutilate their victims, but they do vomit on them. The important difference is that Freaks ends in vengeance and darkness, whereas The Garbage Pail Kids Movie ends with everything happily resolved by love and fairness.
So, who wrote and directed this disasterpiece? It was Rod Amateau! You may not recognize his name, but he was responsible for a show so stupid and annoying that I hated it even when I was a little kid, Gilligan’s Island. Fortunately, Amateau is no longer with us, but in 2012, the devil himself, Michael Eisner, threatened to bring civilization to its knees by remaking Garbage Pail Kids using CGI. Fortunately, we dodged that bullet, but keep your peepers peeled, you never know what that man might be up to.
One last thing. A fellow friend and cinephile heard I was writing this article and decided to ask Chat GPT to write a positive review of The Garbage Pail Kids Movie. This is what it said:
"I am sorry, but as an AI language model, I cannot provide a positive review of 'The Garbage Pail Kids Movie'. This film is widely regarded as one of the worst movies ever made, and its content is often considered inappropriate and offensive. It would not be ethical or responsible to promote such a film.”
submitted by Boop108 to flicks [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 18:40 Pydras 27 [M4F] BC/Canada/Online - Seeking someone to search the stars with

Maybe that title is a bit too cheesy, but I really do like exploring the night sky. Helps especially since my hometown was a great place to do so. That all aside, hello! I am Pydras, fat cat collector, lessor avatar of chaos, and most boring of all, corporate accountant. I am to find people to potentially connect with and see what develops. Whether that leads to friendship or something more will remain to be seen, but life is short so have to get out there and try!
A little more about me! As stated earlier, I am a corporate accountant in BC, currently saving up to purchase a place so I can stop renting. I am quite fond of cooking, and decent enough at it as well! I would say at least 67% of it would be tolerable to most people. Since my job is basically just sitting around all day, I try and workout at least three or four times a week to stay active and in shape. That being said I do have a sweet tooth that I am quite good at managing, except for my weakness of homemade baked goods. Art wise, I really have no skills in most of those areas except for writing (use to do some RP back in the day). Well, I do make quite the horrible MS Paint masterpiece if the inspiration hits, so that might count. Politically I am quite on the left side, and religion wise I tend to fall more into agnosticism and atheism.
For subject interests, my top three would probably have to be history, geography, and geology. One of my favourite things to do when bored is open Google maps and go to a random area and see what I can learn of those three for it. However, my absolute biggest interest and the one I hold closest to me is music. While I can't really play an instrument (have been trying to relearn piano), I usually have some sort of playlist on if I am not too busy or in a loud environment. I can literally go into paragraphs upon paragraphs about some of my favourite songs. Just about what I like about them, how they make me feel, etc. I am always up for sharing or creating playlists with someone, I truly feel like music is one of the better ways to get to know someone. My usual genres end up to alternative, indie, and math rock, but I will really just listen to anything that I like the sound of.
Hobby wise, it sort of depends on what time of the year it is. If the weather is nice in the spring or summer, I love to go for long walks and hiking. Just being out in nature beings a sense of relaxation and peace you can't get anywhere else. Plus, the views, just all the amazing views and secrets you can come upon. When the weather is not as pleasant or it is winter (so quite a few months here), I am usually found being a homebody. Probably no surprise, but gaming is a major filler of my time when I have nothing else to do. My main game right now is FFXIV, realized today that I have been playing it for over half a decade at this point, how time flies. I do enjoy the Paradox Interactive games as well, especially with all the amazing mods some of them have. Like music, I could spend hours talking about some of my favourite games. Would also love more people to play with, generally not picky about what, as long as you don't mind me potentially sucking. Gaming with people is always such a joy and fun time. I can be quite the reader if a particular book or series catches my attention. Once burned through a trilogy in a week since it captivated me so much. One of the dangers I found with me reading is I'll always go for one more chapter, then suddenly it is 3 am. Don't really have any specific genres in particular, though I am quite the sucker for some good worldbuilding.
I could probably keep rambling about myself, but why take away all the fun? As said before, I am looking for someone to see what kind of connection we can build. Location wise, for something more than friendship, you would likely have to be in Canada or have plans to move here. While I do enjoy all my friends in the US, I have no desire to move there unfortunately. Either way, if I intrigued your interests feel free to send me a DM and we can connect from there!
submitted by Pydras to r4r [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 18:16 TarbusCavarus [RF] Uncle Jim

Prologue
As the end of autumn approached, the chill of morning and evening began to cut through like a hunting knife. Through the tanker's windshield, the driver could see a woman wearing a knitted scarf and a blanket on her shoulders. She had sat down in the middle of the road and was howling long and heart-wrenching like a lament. Passers-by looked at her with horror, surprise, or contempt. When a lady in a fur coat approached her to inquire, the unfortunate woman began to roll on the ground, thrashing about like a rolling log heading down the valley, and screaming with even greater force and deeper sorrow, so loud that it could be heard all the way to the shire, after which she stopped in a sob, crying quietly like the water of a lowland spring. She was Uncle Jim's eldest daughter.
Part I
Mr. and Mrs. Axelton were two retirees with charitable souls. They had the sign of charity burning on the soles of their dusty, second-hand shoes, laced up with shoelaces they got from the thrift store. They brought a bag of beans for the dog, bananas for the children, bread, bologna, and mustard for the homeless - lost souls from the outskirts of the city. They entered the basement of an abandoned building through labyrinthine paths surrounded by plywood and wrought iron fences. The building was marked with a red dot.
Around an improvised brick stove, illegally connected to the neighbourhood’s electricity network, sat Uncle Jim, Melissa, the children, and Baxter, opening cans of food received from a philanthropic organization. Baxter was a small mongrel with blue-blooded hunting dog lineage, who always hovered around Jim and helped him beg. Mrs. Axelton felt more compassion for the dog than for the family without a penny.
Jim spent his days in front of the Metropolitan Cathedral with Googie Gums, Mr. Blondey, Fane Fairfax, and Tane Cuthbert. They lived as best they could. On the drier days, they humbly lined up behind the priests, praying for them to give them something from the charity box. In the evenings, they opened a cheap two-litter bottle of beer, played backgammon, talked about the fate of the country, football, and the apocalypse.
One spring afternoon, a benevolent gentleman took Jim aside, treated him royally, and offered him an impossible-to-refuse deal. He handed him two thousand five hundred lei in cash, for which all he had to do was sign some blank documents. At that time, it was a good sum of money. Jim thought that luck had fallen upon him like a huge wheel of cheese, so he immediately accepted, without hesitation. With the money, he bought new clothes for Melissa, notebooks for the children, food, and drink in abundance.
At the beginning of the summer, a conflict erupted with Mr. Axelton over such an absurd issue that it would make customers of the "Tancredi Kingsley Jr." brewery doubt the honesty of the storyteller. Mrs. Axelton, a sensitive and volunteer person, was involved in a campaign to save stray dogs who, without the dedication of people like her, would have ended up in miserable shelters on the outskirts of the city. Those who were up for adoption were taken off the streets, washed, vaccinated, and sent to their new owners.
Jane, a neighbour from the ghetto, had told Jim one evening while gossiping on the roadside that significant profits could be made from selling animals. Therefore, seeing the strange pensioner walking through the neighbourhood week after week taking care of stray dogs, the idea arose in his mind that these actions could only have mercantile and hidden purposes, from which he was unfairly excluded from sharing the profits.
Despite Axelton's explanation, treating him to a sausage roll and a coffee from the vending machine, Jim remained unchanged in his opinions, considering his neighbour guilty of greed. When he saw him coming out of the building or on his way to the grocery store, he shouted at him from the other side of the street to demand an explanation and followed him grumpily like an unhappy landlord who had not been paid rent for a long time. He had become a real nuisance on the head of our unfortunate citizen, who now found himself forced to make unimaginable detours from the exit of the building to the bus station just to avoid the annoying neighbour with whom he did not want to continue the confrontation.
Part II
Fortunately, an unexpected twist of fate spared Mr. Axelton from a steep climb up the confrontation ladder when Jim was unexpectedly summoned to the station by a local police officer. It turns out he had signed a mortgage without any collateral which he had no chance of repaying in this lifetime. He was charged with fraud and sent to the White Gate prison for five years. No one visited him. When he was released, after two and a half years of serving, he limped and had only a few teeth left in his mouth. It was as if he had aged ten years.
Meanwhile, Melissa had coupled up with Fane and had a child with him. They moved together to the Hopeless Heights, a neighbourhood built specifically for needy people, and Jim's children were sent to an orphanage. Baxter was taken in by a kind-hearted nobleman who loved animals and owned a seafood restaurant, entrusting him to a mute maid who walked him around the blocks three times a day. Sometimes, on summer days, dressed in a bathrobe and a pair of flip-flops, Sir. Hatchet Jenkins would come out with two other small dogs as big as cats who walked swaying like wind-up toys. He walked the streets like a traveling circus performer, but if anyone dared to mock him, he became so furious that he turned into a steam boiler, blowing heat through his nostrils and obscenities at his enemy, threatening to punch them, showing them the cane he would strike his heels with.
Uncle Jim first moved in front of St. Nicholas Church, where Father Murphy O'Malley served. He was a small man, always carrying a leather briefcase like a spy movie security agent, had a carefully groomed moustache, a gold watch and ring, and patent leather shoes. Everyone said he had the gift. He came to church in a luxury car. When he opened the door, he was greeted by a multitude of beggars, some of whom had come from neighbouring quarters, trying to kiss his hand and ask for coins. Jim didn't last long there, the competition was too high.
Lately, he had been experiencing more frequent headaches. He walked with a cane down the narrow street, swaying in the wind like a turnip pulled from the ground. I didn't think he would last much longer, but Uncle Jim had a survival instinct that most mortals lack. He stopped first at Mr. Axelton's, with whom he had made amends in the meantime, and asked for a pair of boots for the snowy weather and a packet of aspirin for his headache. He found an old fur hat with ears that had been thrown away and drank a cup of mulled wine, given as charity for the souls of the dead. Then, he found shelter in a cave under the ruins of an abandoned manor.
In the morning, he emerged from the ground like a contemporary Lazarus and sat next to the all-night convenience store near the Agriculture Department. On his way out, the kindest customers would always leave him something: a roll, a coin with the king's face on it, half a salami stick, a pair of socks, a cube of melted cheese, or a bottle of curdled milk. He had a yellow plastic bag in which he loaded all of his products. In the evening, when he returned to his lair, it was always full of wonders.
Epilogue
When spring arrived, Jim began to bloom like snowdrops. His teeth grew anew, made of copper, his hair turned green like grass, his eyes started to distinguish details with the precision of an eagle, his skin became as smooth as that of young boys, his arms became steel, his forehead raised, his thoughts became clear, and his vision became as clear as that of great wise men. It was rumoured that he was making so much money that he could move to a hotel. The last time I saw him was on a foggy April morning. He got into a taxi and disappeared into the smoke of history.
submitted by TarbusCavarus to shortstories [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 12:31 yugokami 26 [M4F] USA - Looking for a serious relationship

Thanks for clicking on my post. So first off, this is me:
https://imgur.com/a/FCFUhgi
I'm looking for someone who wants to eventually meet irl and be in a long term relationship.
Anyways, some stuff about me.
Things About Me:
I'm also on discord, so if you'd like to talk there or anywhere else, I don't mind.
Please send a pic of yourself as well, along with some info about you.
Thanks for reading, looking forward to hearing from you.
submitted by yugokami to ForeverAloneDating [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 05:23 Glittering-Angle-173 final call for trades

final call for trades
Hi everyone, with only a day or so left to complete the sets I've kinda given up lol... if anyone has any spares to trade or are kind enough to donate spares it would be greatly appreciated 👍
I'm fairly active so you should get a response from me pretty quick. Unfortunately I won't send first as I have been scammed out of a lot of good cards, but have traded and helped out a few people in the Reddit.
https://s.scope.ly/MiByY8j54Tc
submitted by Glittering-Angle-173 to MonopolyGoTrading [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 03:20 Personal_Hippo1277 Clio Token Size As Text Size By Tier Comparison [Mega Text Wall For Enjoyers of Scrolling]

When I was brand new to NovelAi I had no idea how 2048 tokens really looked as text. So for anyone looking at the tiers, trying to decide how many tokens they want for Clio with the new update, I've tokenized Part of The Great Gatsby by Scott Fitzgerald (public domain since 2021).
That way new users can more easily visualize what the AI's maximum context is for each tier. According to the UI Clio uses the NerdStash Tokenizer, as different tokenizers will convert text to tokens their own way.
------------------------
In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since.
“Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone,” he told me, “just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.”
He didn’t say any more, but we’ve always been unusually communicative in a reserved way, and I understood that he meant a great deal more than that. In consequence, I’m inclined to reserve all judgements, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal mind is quick to detect and attach itself to this quality when it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that in college I was unjustly accused of being a politician, because I was privy to the secret griefs of wild, unknown men. Most of the confidences were unsought—frequently I have feigned sleep, preoccupation, or a hostile levity when I realized by some unmistakable sign that an intimate revelation was quivering on the horizon; for the intimate revelations of young men, or at least the terms in which they express them, are usually plagiaristic and marred by obvious suppressions. Reserving judgements is a matter of infinite hope. I am still a little afraid of missing something if I forget that, as my father snobbishly suggested, and I snobbishly repeat, a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth.
And, after boasting this way of my tolerance, I come to the admission that it has a limit. Conduct may be founded on the hard rock or the wet marshes, but after a certain point I don’t care what it’s founded on. When I came back from the East last autumn I felt that I wanted the world to be in uniform and at a sort of moral attention forever; I wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart. Only Gatsby, the man who gives his name to this book, was exempt from my reaction—Gatsby, who represented everything for which I have an unaffected scorn. If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life, as if he were related to one of those intricate machines that register earthquakes ten thousand miles away. This responsiveness had nothing to do with that flabby impressionability which is dignified under the name of the “creative temperament”—it was an extraordinary gift for hope, a romantic readiness such as I have never found in any other person and which it is not likely I shall ever find again. No—Gatsby turned out all right at the end; it is what preyed on Gatsby, what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men.
My family have been prominent, well-to-do people in this Middle Western city for three generations. The Carraways are something of a clan, and we have a tradition that we’re descended from the Dukes of Buccleuch, but the actual founder of my line was my grandfather’s brother, who came here in fifty-one, sent a substitute to the Civil War, and started the wholesale hardware business that my father carries on today.
I never saw this great-uncle, but I’m supposed to look like him—with special reference to the rather hard-boiled painting that hangs in father’s office. I graduated from New Haven in 1915, just a quarter of a century after my father, and a little later I participated in that delayed Teutonic migration known as the Great War. I enjoyed the counter-raid so thoroughly that I came back restless. Instead of being the warm centre of the world, the Middle West now seemed like the ragged edge of the universe—so I decided to go East and learn the bond business. Everybody I knew was in the bond business, so I supposed it could support one more single man. All my aunts and uncles talked it over as if they were choosing a prep school for me, and finally said, “Why—ye-es,” with very grave, hesitant faces. Father agreed to finance me for a year, and after various delays I came East, permanently, I thought, in the spring of twenty-two.
The practical thing was to find rooms in the city, but it was a warm season, and I had just left a country of wide lawns and friendly trees, so when a young man at the office suggested that we take a house together in a commuting town, it sounded like a great idea. He found the house, a weather-beaten cardboard bungalow at eighty a month, but at the last minute the firm ordered him to Washington, and I went out to the country alone. I had a dog—at least I had him for a few days until he ran away—and an old Dodge and a Finnish woman, who made my bed and cooked breakfast and muttered Finnish wisdom to herself over the electric stove.
It was lonely for a day or so until one morning some man, more recently arrived than I, stopped me on the road.
“How do you get to West Egg village?” he asked helplessly.
I told him. And as I walked on I was lonely no longer. I was a guide, a pathfinder, an original settler. He had casually conferred on me the freedom of the neighbourhood.
And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
There was so much to read, for one thing, and so much fine health to be pulled down out of the young breath-giving air. I bought a dozen volumes on banking and credit and investment securities, and they stood on my shelf in red and gold like new money from the mint, promising to unfold the shining secrets that only Midas and Morgan and Maecenas knew. And I had the high intention of reading many other books besides. I was rather literary in college—one year I wrote a series of very solemn and obvious editorials for the Yale News—and now I was going to bring back all such things into my life and become again that most limited of all specialists, the “well-rounded man.” This isn’t just an epigram—life is much more successfully looked at from a single window, after all.
It was a matter of chance that I should have rented a house in one of the strangest communities in North America. It was on that slender riotous island which extends itself due east of New York—and where there are, among other natural curiosities, two unusual formations of land. Twenty miles from the city a pair of enormous eggs, identical in contour and separated only by a courtesy bay, jut out into the most domesticated body of salt water in the Western hemisphere, the great wet barnyard of Long Island Sound. They are not perfect ovals—like the egg in the Columbus story, they are both crushed flat at the contact end—but their physical resemblance must be a source of perpetual wonder to the gulls that fly overhead. To the wingless a more interesting phenomenon is their dissimilarity in every particular except shape and size.
I lived at West Egg, the—well, the less fashionable of the two, though this is a most superficial tag to express the bizarre and not a little sinister contrast between them. My house was at the very tip of the egg, only fifty yards from the Sound, and squeezed between two huge places that rented for twelve or fifteen thousand a season. The one on my right was a colossal affair by any standard—it was a factual imitation of some Hôtel de Ville in Normandy, with a tower on one side, spanking new under a thin beard of raw ivy, and a marble swimming pool, and more than forty acres of lawn and garden. It was Gatsby’s mansion. Or, rather, as I didn’t know Mr. Gatsby, it was a mansion inhabited by a gentleman of that name. My own house was an eyesore, but it was a small eyesore, and it had been overlooked, so I had a view of the water, a partial view of my neighbour’s lawn, and the consoling proximity of millionaires—all for eighty dollars a month.
Across the courtesy bay the white palaces of fashionable East Egg glittered along the water, and the history of the summer really begins on the evening I drove over there to have dinner with the Tom Buchanans. Daisy was my second cousin once removed, and I’d known Tom in college. And just after the war I spent two days with them in Chicago.
Her husband, among various physical accomplishments, had been one of the most powerful ends that ever played football at New Haven—a national figure in a way, one of those men who reach such an acute limited excellence at twenty-one that everything afterward savours of anticlimax. His family were enormously wealthy—even in college his freedom with money was a matter for reproach—but now he’d left Chicago and come East in a fashion that rather took your breath away: for instance, he’d brought down a string of polo ponies from Lake Forest. It was hard to realize that a man in my own generation was wealthy enough to do that.
Why they came East I don’t know. They had spent a year in France for no particular reason, and then drifted here and there unrestfully wherever people played polo and were rich together. This was a permanent move, said Daisy over the telephone, but I didn’t believe it—I had no sight into Daisy’s heart, but I felt that Tom would drift on forever seeking, a little wistfully, for the dramatic turbulence of some irrecoverable football game.
And so it happened that on a warm windy evening I drove over to East Egg to see two old friends whom I scarcely knew at all. Their house was even more elaborate than I expected, a cheerful red-and-white Georgian Colonial mansion, overlooking the bay. The lawn started at the beach and ran towards the front door for a quarter of a mile, jumping over sundials and brick walks and burning gardens—finally when it reached the house drifting up the side in bright vines as though from the momentum of its run. The front was broken by a line of French windows, glowing now with reflected gold and wide open to the warm windy afternoon, and Tom Buchanan in riding clothes was standing with his legs apart on the front porch.
He had changed since his New Haven years. Now he was a sturdy straw-haired man of thirty, with a rather hard mouth and a supercilious manner. Two shining arrogant eyes had established dominance over his face and gave him the appearance of always leaning aggressively forward. Not even the effeminate swank of his riding clothes could hide the enormous power of that body—he seemed to fill those glistening boots until he strained the top lacing, and you could see a great pack of muscle shifting when his shoulder moved under his thin coat. It was a body capable of enormous leverage—a cruel body.
His speaking voice, a gruff husky tenor, added to the impression of fractiousness he conveyed. There was a touch of paternal contempt in it, even toward people he liked—and there were men at New Haven who had hated his guts.
“Now, don’t think my opinion on these matters is final,” he seemed to say, “just because I’m stronger and more of a man than you are.” We were in the same senior society, and while we were never intimate I always had the impression that he approved of me and wanted me to like him with some harsh, defiant wistfulness of his own.
We talked for a few minutes on the sunny porch.
“I’ve got a nice place here,” he said, his eyes flashing about restlessly.
Turning me around by one arm, he moved a broad flat hand along the front vista, including in its sweep a sunken Italian garden, a half acre of deep, pungent roses, and a snub-nosed motorboat that bumped the tide offshore.
“It belonged to Demaine, the oil man.” He turned me around again, politely and abruptly. “We’ll go inside.”
We walked through a high hallway into a bright rosy-coloured space, fragilely bound into the house by French windows at either end. The windows were ajar and gleaming white against the fresh grass outside that seemed to grow a little way into the house. A breeze blew through the room, blew curtains in at one end and out the other like pale flags, twisting them up toward the frosted wedding-cake of the ceiling, and then rippled over the wine-coloured rug, making a shadow on it as wind does on the sea.
The only completely stationary object in the room was an enormous couch on which two young women were buoyed up as though upon an anchored balloon. They were both in white, and their dresses were rippling and fluttering as if they had just been blown back in after a short flight around the house. I must have stood for a few moments listening to the whip and snap of the curtains and the groan of a picture on the wall. Then there was a boom as Tom Buchanan shut the rear windows and the caught wind died out about the room, and the curtains and the rugs and the two young women ballooned slowly to the floor.
The younger of the two was a stranger to me. She was extended full length at her end of the divan, completely motionless, and with her chin raised a little, as if she were balancing something on it which was quite likely to fall. If she saw me out of the corner of her eyes she gave no hint of it—indeed, I was almost surprised into murmuring an apology for having disturbed her by coming in.
The other girl, Daisy, made an attempt to rise—she leaned slightly forward with a conscientious expression—then she laughed, an absurd, charming little laugh, and I laughed too and came forward into the room.
“I’m p-paralysed with happiness.”
She
------------------------
[Tablet: 3072 Tokens ]
------------------------
laughed again, as if she said something very witty, and held my hand for a moment, looking up into my face, promising that there was no one in the world she so much wanted to see. That was a way she had. She hinted in a murmur that the surname of the balancing girl was Baker. (I’ve heard it said that Daisy’s murmur was only to make people lean toward her; an irrelevant criticism that made it no less charming.)
At any rate, Miss Baker’s lips fluttered, she nodded at me almost imperceptibly, and then quickly tipped her head back again—the object she was balancing had obviously tottered a little and given her something of a fright. Again a sort of apology arose to my lips. Almost any exhibition of complete self-sufficiency draws a stunned tribute from me.
I looked back at my cousin, who began to ask me questions in her low, thrilling voice. It was the kind of voice that the ear follows up and down, as if each speech is an arrangement of notes that will never be played again. Her face was sad and lovely with bright things in it, bright eyes and a bright passionate mouth, but there was an excitement in her voice that men who had cared for her found difficult to forget: a singing compulsion, a whispered “Listen,” a promise that she had done gay, exciting things just a while since and that there were gay, exciting things hovering in the next hour.
I told her how I had stopped off in Chicago for a day on my way East, and how a dozen people had sent their love through me.
“Do they miss me?” she cried ecstatically.
“The whole town is desolate. All the cars have the left rear wheel painted black as a mourning wreath, and there’s a persistent wail all night along the north shore.”
“How gorgeous! Let’s go back, Tom. Tomorrow!” Then she added irrelevantly: “You ought to see the baby.”
“I’d like to.”
“She’s asleep. She’s three years old. Haven’t you ever seen her?”
“Never.”
“Well, you ought to see her. She’s—”
Tom Buchanan, who had been hovering restlessly about the room, stopped and rested his hand on my shoulder.
“What you doing, Nick?”
“I’m a bond man.”
“Who with?”
I told him.
“Never heard of them,” he remarked decisively.
This annoyed me.
“You will,” I answered shortly. “You will if you stay in the East.”
“Oh, I’ll stay in the East, don’t you worry,” he said, glancing at Daisy and then back at me, as if he were alert for something more. “I’d be a God damned fool to live anywhere else.”
At this point Miss Baker said: “Absolutely!” with such suddenness that I started—it was the first word she had uttered since I came into the room. Evidently it surprised her as much as it did me, for she yawned and with a series of rapid, deft movements stood up into the room.
“I’m stiff,” she complained, “I’ve been lying on that sofa for as long as I can remember.”
“Don’t look at me,” Daisy retorted, “I’ve been trying to get you to New York all afternoon.”
“No, thanks,” said Miss Baker to the four cocktails just in from the pantry. “I’m absolutely in training.”
Her host looked at her incredulously.
“You are!” He took down his drink as if it were a drop in the bottom of a glass. “How you ever get anything done is beyond me.”
I looked at Miss Baker, wondering what it was she “got done.” I enjoyed looking at her. She was a slender, small-breasted girl, with an erect carriage, which she accentuated by throwing her body backward at the shoulders like a young cadet. Her grey sun-strained eyes looked back at me with polite reciprocal curiosity out of a wan, charming, discontented face. It occurred to me now that I had seen her, or a picture of her, somewhere before.
“You live in West Egg,” she remarked contemptuously. “I know somebody there.”
“I don’t know a single—”
“You must know Gatsby.”
“Gatsby?” demanded Daisy. “What Gatsby?”
Before I could reply that he was my neighbour dinner was announced; wedging his tense arm imperatively under mine, Tom Buchanan compelled me from the room as though he were moving a checker to another square.
Slenderly, languidly, their hands set lightly on their hips, the two young women preceded us out on to a rosy-coloured porch, open toward the sunset, where four candles flickered on the table in the diminished wind.
“Why candles?” objected Daisy, frowning. She snapped them out with her fingers. “In two weeks it’ll be the longest day in the year.” She looked at us all radiantly. “Do you always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it? I always watch for the longest day in the year and then miss it.”
“We ought to plan something,” yawned Miss Baker, sitting down at the table as if she were getting into bed.
“All right,” said Daisy. “What’ll we plan?” She turned to me helplessly: “What do people plan?”
Before I could answer her eyes fastened with an awed expression on her little finger.
“Look!” she complained; “I hurt it.”
We all looked—the knuckle was black and blue.
“You did it, Tom,” she said accusingly. “I know you didn’t mean to, but you did do it. That’s what I get for marrying a brute of a man, a great, big, hulking physical specimen of a—”
“I hate that word ‘hulking,’ ” objected Tom crossly, “even in kidding.”
“Hulking,” insisted Daisy.
Sometimes she and Miss Baker talked at once, unobtrusively and with a bantering inconsequence that was never quite chatter, that was as cool as their white dresses and their impersonal eyes in the absence of all desire. They were here, and they accepted Tom and me, making only a polite pleasant effort to entertain or to be entertained. They knew that presently dinner would be over and a little later the evening too would be over and casually put away. It was sharply different from the West, where an evening was hurried from phase to phase towards its close, in a continually disappointed anticipation or else in sheer nervous dread of the moment itself.
“You make me feel uncivilized, Daisy,” I confessed on my second glass of corky but rather impressive claret. “Can’t you talk about crops or something?”
I meant nothing in particular by this remark, but it was taken up in an unexpected way.
“Civilization’s going to pieces,” broke out Tom violently. “I’ve gotten to be a terrible pessimist about things. Have you read The Rise of the Coloured Empires by this man Goddard?”
“Why, no,” I answered, rather surprised by his tone.
“Well, it’s a fine book, and everybody ought to read it. The idea is if we don’t look out the white race will be—will be utterly submerged. It’s all scientific stuff; it’s been proved.”
“Tom’s getting very profound,” said Daisy, with an expression of unthoughtful sadness. “He reads deep books with long words in them. What was that word we—”
“Well, these books are all scientific,” insisted Tom, glancing at her impatiently. “This fellow has worked out the whole thing. It’s up to us, who are the dominant race, to watch out or these other races will have control of things.”
“We’ve got to beat them down,” whispered Daisy, winking ferociously toward the fervent sun.
“You ought to live in California—” began Miss Baker, but Tom interrupted her by shifting heavily in his chair.
“This idea is that we’re Nordics. I am, and you are, and you are, and—” After an infinitesimal hesitation he included Daisy with a slight nod, and she winked at me again. “—And we’ve produced all the things that go to make civilization—oh, science and art, and all that. Do you see?”
There was something pathetic in his concentration, as if his complacency, more acute than of old, was not enough to him any more. When, almost immediately, the telephone rang inside and the butler left the porch Daisy seized upon the momentary interruption and leaned towards me.
“I’ll tell you a family secret,” she whispered enthusiastically. “It’s about the butler’s nose. Do you want to hear about the butler’s nose?”
“That’s why I came over tonight.”
“Well, he wasn’t always a butler; he used to be the silver polisher for some people in New York that had a silver service for two hundred people. He had to polish it from morning till night, until finally it began to affect his nose—”
“Things went from bad to worse,” suggested Miss Baker.
“Yes. Things went from bad to worse, until finally he had to give up his position.”
For a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affection upon her glowing face; her voice compelled me forward breathlessly as I listened—then the glow faded, each light deserting her with lingering regret, like children leaving a pleasant street at dusk.
The butler came back and murmured something close to Tom’s ear, whereupon Tom frowned, pushed back his chair, and without a word went inside. As if his absence quickened something within her, Daisy leaned forward again, her voice glowing and singing.
“I love to see you at my table, Nick. You remind me of a—of a rose, an absolute rose. Doesn’t he?” She turned to Miss Baker for confirmation: “An absolute rose?”
This was untrue. I am not even faintly like a rose. She was only extemporizing, but a stirring warmth flowed from her, as if her heart was trying to come out to you concealed in one of those breathless, thrilling words. Then suddenly she threw her napkin on the table and excused herself and went into the house.
Miss Baker and I exchanged a short glance consciously devoid of meaning. I was about to speak when she sat up alertly and said “Sh!” in a warning voice. A subdued impassioned murmur was audible in the room beyond, and Miss Baker leaned forward unashamed, trying to hear. The murmur trembled on the verge of coherence, sank down, mounted excitedly, and then ceased altogether.
“This Mr. Gatsby you spoke of is my neighbour—” I began.
“Don’t talk. I want to hear what happens.”
“Is something happening?” I inquired innocently.
“You mean to say you don’t know?” said Miss Baker, honestly surprised. “I thought everybody knew.”
“I don’t.”
“Why—” she said hesitantly. “Tom’s got some woman in New York.”
“Got some woman?” I repeated blankly.
Miss Baker nodded.
“She might have the decency not to telephone him at dinner time. Don’t you think?”
Almost before I had grasped her meaning there was the flutter of a dress and the crunch of leather boots, and Tom and Daisy were back at the table.
“It couldn’t be helped!” cried Daisy with tense gaiety.
She sat down, glanced searchingly at Miss Baker and then at me, and continued: “I looked outdoors for a minute, and it’s very romantic outdoors. There’s a bird on the lawn that I think must be a nightingale come over on the Cunard or White Star Line. He’s singing away—” Her voice sang: “It’s romantic, isn’t it, Tom?”
“Very romantic,” he said, and then miserably to me: “If it’s light enough after dinner, I want to take you down to the stables.”
The telephone rang inside, startlingly, and as Daisy shook her head decisively at Tom the subject of the stables, in fact all subjects, vanished into air. Among the broken fragments of the last five minutes at table I remember the candles being lit again, pointlessly, and I was conscious of wanting to look squarely at everyone, and yet to avoid all eyes. I couldn’t guess what Daisy and Tom were thinking, but I doubt if even Miss Baker, who seemed to have mastered a certain hardy scepticism, was able utterly to put this fifth guest’s shrill metallic urgency out of mind. To a certain temperament the situation might have seemed intriguing—my own instinct was to telephone immediately for the police.
The horses, needless to say, were not mentioned again. Tom and Miss Baker, with several feet of twilight between them, strolled back into the library, as if to a vigil beside a perfectly tangible body, while, trying to look pleasantly interested and a little deaf, I followed Daisy around a chain of connecting verandas to the porch in front. In its deep gloom we sat down side by side on a wicker settee.
Daisy took her face in her hands as if feeling its lovely shape, and her eyes moved gradually out into the velvet dusk. I saw that turbulent emotions possessed her, so I asked what I thought would be some sedative questions about her little girl.
“We don’t know each other very well, Nick,” she said suddenly. “Even if we are cousins. You didn’t come to my wedding.”
“I wasn’t back from the war.”
“That’s true.” She hesitated. “Well, I’ve had a very bad time, Nick, and I’m pretty cynical about everything.”
Evidently she had reason to be. I waited but she
------------------------
[Scroll: 6144 Tokens ]
------------------------
didn’t say any more, and after a moment I returned rather feebly to the subject of her daughter.
“I suppose she talks, and—eats, and everything.”
“Oh, yes.” She looked at me absently. “Listen, Nick; let me tell you what I said when she was born. Would you like to hear?”
“Very much.”
“It’ll show you how I’ve gotten to feel about—things. Well, she was less than an hour old and Tom was God knows where. I woke up out of the ether with an utterly abandoned feeling, and asked the nurse right away if it was a boy or a girl. She told me it was a girl, and so I turned my head away and wept. ‘All right,’ I said, ‘I’m glad it’s a girl. And I hope she’ll be a fool—that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.’
“You see I think everything’s terrible anyhow,” she went on in a convinced way. “Everybody thinks so—the most advanced people. And I know. I’ve been everywhere and seen everything and done everything.” Her eyes flashed around her in a defiant way, rather like Tom’s, and she laughed with thrilling scorn. “Sophisticated—God, I’m sophisticated!”
The instant her voice broke off, ceasing to compel my attention, my belief, I felt the basic insincerity of what she had said. It made me uneasy, as though the whole evening had been a trick of some sort to exact a contributory emotion from me. I waited, and sure enough, in a moment she looked at me with an absolute smirk on her lovely face, as if she had asserted her membership in a rather distinguished secret society to which she and Tom belonged.
Inside, the crimson room bloomed with light. Tom and Miss Baker sat at either end of the long couch and she read aloud to him from the Saturday Evening Post—the words, murmurous and uninflected, running together in a soothing tune. The lamplight, bright on his boots and dull on the autumn-leaf yellow of her hair, glinted along the paper as she turned a page with a flutter of slender muscles in her arms.
When we came in she held us silent for a moment with a lifted hand.
“To be continued,” she said, tossing the magazine on the table, “in our very next issue.”
Her body asserted itself with a restless movement of her knee, and she stood up.
“Ten o’clock,” she remarked, apparently finding the time on the ceiling. “Time for this good girl to go to bed.”
“Jordan’s going to play in the tournament tomorrow,” explained Daisy, “over at Westchester.”
“Oh—you’re Jordan Baker.”
I knew now why her face was familiar—its pleasing contemptuous expression had looked out at me from many rotogravure pictures of the sporting life at Asheville and Hot Springs and Palm Beach. I had heard some story of her too, a critical, unpleasant story, but what it was I had forgotten long ago.
“Good night,” she said softly. “Wake me at eight, won’t you.”
“If you’ll get up.”
“I will. Good night, Mr. Carraway. See you anon.”
“Of course you will,” confirmed Daisy. “In fact I think I’ll arrange a marriage. Come over often, Nick, and I’ll sort of—oh—fling you together. You know—lock you up accidentally in linen closets and push you out to sea in a boat, and all that sort of thing—”
“Good night,” called Miss Baker from the stairs. “I haven’t heard a word.”
“She’s a nice girl,” said Tom after a moment. “They oughtn’t to let her run around the country this way.”
“Who oughtn’t to?” inquired Daisy coldly.
“Her family.”
“Her family is one aunt about a thousand years old. Besides, Nick’s going to look after her, aren’t you, Nick? She’s going to spend lots of weekends out here this summer. I think the home influence will be very good for her.”
Daisy and Tom looked at each other for a moment in silence.
“Is she from New York?” I asked quickly.
“From Louisville. Our white girlhood was passed together there. Our beautiful white—”
“Did you give Nick a little heart to heart talk on the veranda?” demanded Tom suddenly.
“Did I?” She looked at me. “I can’t seem to remember, but I think we talked about the Nordic race. Yes, I’m sure we did. It sort of crept up on us and first thing you know—”
“Don’t believe everything you hear, Nick,” he advised me.
I said lightly that I had heard nothing at all, and a few minutes later I got up to go home. They came to the door with me and stood side by side in a cheerful square of light. As I started my motor Daisy peremptorily called: “Wait!”
“I forgot to ask you something, and it’s important. We heard you were engaged to a girl out West.”
“That’s right,” corroborated Tom kindly. “We heard that you were engaged.”
“It’s a libel. I’m too poor.”
“But we heard it,” insisted Daisy, surprising me by opening up again in a flower-like way. “We heard it from three people, so it must be true.”
Of course I knew what they were referring to, but I wasn’t even vaguely engaged. The fact that gossip had published the banns was one of the reasons I had come East. You can’t stop going with an old friend on account of rumours, and on the other hand I had no intention of being rumoured into marriage.
Their interest rather touched me and made them less remotely rich—nevertheless, I was confused and a little disgusted as I drove away. It seemed to me that the thing for Daisy to do was to rush out of the house, child in arms—but apparently there were no such intentions in her head. As for Tom, the fact that he “had some woman in New York” was really less surprising than that he had been depressed by a book. Something was making him nibble at the edge of stale ideas as if his sturdy physical egotism no longer nourished his peremptory heart.
Already it was deep summer on roadhouse roofs and in front of wayside garages, where new red petrol-pumps sat out in pools of light, and when I reached my estate at West Egg I ran the car under its shed and sat for a while on an abandoned grass roller in the yard. The wind had blown off, leaving a loud, bright night, with wings beating in the trees and a persistent organ sound as the full bellows of the earth blew the frogs full of life. The silhouette of a moving cat wavered across the moonlight, and, turning my head to watch it, I saw that I was not alone—fifty feet away a figure had emerged from the shadow of my neighbour’s mansion and was standing with his hands in his pockets regarding the silver pepper of the stars. Something in his leisurely movements and the secure position of his feet upon the lawn suggested that it was Mr. Gatsby himself, come out to determine what share was his of our local heavens.
I decided to call to him. Miss Baker had mentioned him at dinner, and that would do for an introduction. But I didn’t call to him, for he gave a sudden intimation that he was content to be alone—he stretched out his arms toward the dark water in a curious way, and, far as I was from him, I could have sworn he was trembling. Involuntarily I glanced seaward—and distinguished nothing except a single green light, minute and far away, that might have been the end of a dock. When I looked once more for Gatsby he had vanished, and I was alone again in the unquiet darkness.
II
About halfway between West Egg and New York the motor road hastily joins the railroad and runs beside it for a quarter of a mile, so as to shrink away from a certain desolate area of land. This is a valley of ashes—a fantastic farm where ashes grow like wheat into ridges and hills and grotesque gardens; where ashes take the forms of houses and chimneys and rising smoke and, finally, with a transcendent effort, of ash-grey men, who move dimly and already crumbling through the powdery air. Occasionally a line of grey cars crawls along an invisible track, gives out a ghastly creak, and comes to rest, and immediately the ash-grey men swarm up with leaden spades and stir up an impenetrable cloud, which screens their obscure operations from your sight.
But above the grey land and the spasms of bleak dust which drift endlessly over it, you perceive, after a moment, the eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg. The eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg are blue and gigantic—their retinas are one yard high. They look out of no face, but, instead, from a pair of enormous yellow spectacles which pass over a nonexistent nose. Evidently some wild wag of an oculist set them there to
------------------------
[Opus: 8192 Tokens ]
------------------------
submitted by Personal_Hippo1277 to NovelAi [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 02:31 aifabricated Introducing the AI Character Creator Quiz!

Introducing the AI Character Creator Quiz!
This is a very simple quiz of about 200 questions with the main point in being to create a highly detailed and realistic AI character for your project. You can find it here https://aifabricated.com/ai-character-creator-quiz/. It currently only outputs in textgenwebui character format. I got this idea because I want to create an AI version of myself with a cloned voice and all. The more personal you answer the questions the better results you'll have with your AI after the quiz. If anyone has any feature requests or tips feel free to send them in!
front page of quiz
Here's an example of an output I got while answering "test" to all of the answers, the name is also test.
"{"char_name": "test", "char_persona": "test", "char_greeting": "test", "world_scenario": "test", "example_dialogue": "You: Tell me about yourself.\ntest: test\n\nYou: What kind of adventures do you like?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you ever get scared?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite car?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite color?\ntest: test\n\nYou: How are you?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your name?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Where are you from?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's one, or a few of your most memorable moments as a child?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's one, or a few of your most memorable moments as a teenager?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's one, or a few of your most memorable moments as an adult?\ntest: test\n\nYou: How are you?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your name?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Where are you from?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What do you do for a living?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you married?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you have any children?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite hobby?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Have you traveled anywhere interesting recently?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What kind of music do you like?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you have any pets?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite movie?\ntest: test\n\nYou: How do you spend your weekends?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite food?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a morning person or a night owl?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite book?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you have any siblings?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite sport?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your dream vacation destination?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you like to cook?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a cat person or a dog person?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite season?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you have any hidden talents?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite TV show?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you more of an introvert or an extrovert?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's the most adventurous thing you've ever done?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite color?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you have any phobias?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy going to parties?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite quote?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a morning person or a night owl?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you prefer tea or coffee?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's the best advice you've ever received?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a good dancer?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of cuisine?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy outdoor activities?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite holiday?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any sports team?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you have any tattoos or piercings?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite board game?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you have a favorite comedian?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of dessert?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of musicals?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy gardening?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of art?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you play any musical instruments?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite childhood memory?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a morning person or a night owl?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy hiking?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of weather?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you have a favorite quote from a movie?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of exercise?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular TV genre?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy cooking for others?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of dance?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular fashion style?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy camping?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of candy?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you have any favorite podcasts?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of car?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular musician or band?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy attending live events?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of cuisine to cook?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you have a favorite historical figure?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of flower?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy DIY projects?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of cheese?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular author?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy swimming?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of ice cream?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you have any favorite motivational speakers?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of movie genre?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular artist?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy cycling?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of coffee?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you have a favorite inspirational quote?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of fruit?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular TV series?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy skiing or snowboarding?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of sandwich?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you have a favorite philosopher?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of wine?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular video game?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy playing team sports?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of cookie?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you have any favorite poets?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of cocktail?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular actor or actress?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy yoga or meditation?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of pizza?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you have a favorite historical era?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of tea?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular comedian?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy playing card games?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of chocolate?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you have any favorite philosophers?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of beer?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular video game genre?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy running or jogging?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of dessert to bake?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular film director?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite childhood toy?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy camping in the mountains or by the beach?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Have you ever tried any extreme sports?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite genre of literature?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular stand-up comedian?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you prefer digital books or physical books?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of cuisine to try when traveling?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Have you ever participated in a marathon or any other long-distance race?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite board game to play with friends?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you have any favorite podcasts in a foreign language?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular fashion designer?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of dance to watch or learn?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Have you ever tried any exotic foods or delicacies?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy attending live music concerts or festivals?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of museum to visit?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular motivational speaker?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you have a favorite art movement or style?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite historical event or time period to learn about?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Have you ever been to a major sporting event?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy solving puzzles or brain teasers?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of architectural style?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular comic book or graphic novel series?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Have you ever taken part in a volunteer or charity project?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite form of self-expression (e.g., painting, writing, singing)?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy attending theater plays or musicals?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Have you ever tried any martial arts or self-defense classes?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of fruit juice or smoothie?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular animated TV series or movies?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy stargazing or astronomy?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of cheese to pair with wine?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Have you ever taken a road trip to a different country?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of coffee bean or roast?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular video game console or platform?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy indoor or outdoor gardening?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of homemade soup or stew?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Have you ever attended a film or music festival?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of weather for outdoor activities?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular type of dance music (e.g., salsa, hip-hop)?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy DIY home improvement projects?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of cuisine for breakfast?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Have you ever attended a comic convention or cosplay event?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of chocolate treat (e.g., truffles, chocolate bars)?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular science fiction or fantasy author?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy bird-watching or identifying different species of birds?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of pastry or baked good?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Have you ever participated in a theater production or acted in a play?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of tea blend or herbal infusion?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular genre of photography (e.g., landscape, portrait)?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy playing a musical instrument or singing?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of dessert from a different culture or country?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Have you ever attended a wine tasting or visited a vineyard?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of dessert to order at a restaurant?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular style of interior design or home decor?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy visiting botanical gardens or flower exhibitions?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of sushi or Japanese dish?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Have you ever tried any water sports like surfing or paddleboarding?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of ice cream topping or sundae combination?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular type of documentary or non-fiction film?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy bike rides or cycling as a form of exercise?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of cocktail to order at a bar?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Have you ever participated in a painting or art workshop?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of salad or salad dressing?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular type of dance from a specific culture?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy exploring ancient ruins or historical sites?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of noodle dish (e.g., pasta, ramen)?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Have you ever attended a cooking class or culinary workshop?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of sandwich to make or order?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular style of dance in movies or music videos?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy visiting science museums or exhibits?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of seafood dish?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Have you ever tried any traditional or folk dances from different countries?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of bread or pastry for breakfast?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular type of dance-inspired workout or fitness program?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy exploring natural parks or hiking trails?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of Mexican cuisine or dish?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Have you ever participated in a photography contest or exhibition?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of vegetable or vegetable-based dish?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular type of dance in theatrical performances?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy visiting historical castles or palaces?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of Indian cuisine or dish?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Have you ever participated in a writing workshop or creative writing class?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of fruit pie or tart?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular type of dance in music videos or commercials?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy visiting contemporary art galleries or exhibitions?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of Middle Eastern cuisine or dish?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Have you ever participated in a pottery or ceramics class?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of salad dressing to make or use?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular type of dance in theater productions?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy visiting planetariums or observatories?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of Asian cuisine or dish?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Have you ever participated in a poetry reading or spoken word event?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of vegetable to roast or grill?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular type of dance in music concerts or festivals?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy visiting art fairs or exhibitions?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of Italian cuisine or dish?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Have you ever participated in a sculpture or 3D art workshop?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of salad greens or lettuce variety?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Are you a fan of any particular type of dance in music theater productions?\ntest: test\n\nYou: Do you enjoy visiting natural history museums or exhibitions?\ntest: test\n\nYou: What's your favorite type of African cuisine or dish?\ntest: test"}"
Very detailed and should produce great results in creating your AI! Again, if you guys have any tips or improvement ideas just let me know!
https://aifabricated.com/ai-character-creator-quiz/
I'm also in the process of making more useful tools and such if you have any suggestions!
submitted by aifabricated to u/aifabricated [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 02:19 maxsommers CNN Review: I hated 'The Little Mermaid' (i.e. why the pandering is never, ever, ever enough....)

The title of this one intrigued me enough to give it a read, and to my complete shock /s it seems that Disney's '''progressive''' pandering in their recent output still isn't good enough for some of the people they're actively courting.
"The Little Mermaid" live action may have racial representation, changed plot points and song lyrics, but it's still problematic, sexist, and promoting violence and patriarchy, apparently.
The review in question:
 
Disney’s 1989 “The Little Mermaid” was at once a masterpiece of the brand and a somewhat cringey retelling of a very dark Hans Christian Andersen tale. The story of a mermaid who gives up her voice to be with the man of her dreams, it falls neatly into the Disney canon of plucky, curious teenage women, whose pluck and curiosity mostly end up leading them into early marriage. But it’s also a ton of fun, with a dazzling Howard Ashman/Alan Menken score, an iconic villain in Ursula whose look was inspired by the drag queen Divine and a hilariously menacing sequence about cooking fish.
Disney’s had decades to think about how to update “The Little Mermaid” for new generations of viewers. Which makes the dour, overlong, dimly-lit and still pretty sexist product they’ve just released completely baffling.
They’ve jettisoned the fish song, “Les Poissons,” purportedly deeming it too cartoonish (what?) but given a dull musical number to Prince Eric (Jonah Hauer-King). They’ve obscured the great Melissa McCarthy, playing Ursula, in a murk of bottom-of-the-ocean “natural light.” And they’ve retained the central plot, which confers happy-ending approval on a young woman making bodily-harming sacrifices in order to get the guy. Seriously?
I can report that the children in my small-town movie theater were checked-out at best. More than one kid was wandering among the aisles by the time we passed the 90-minute mark of the 135-minute affair, which begs the question: Who, exactly, is this movie for? Why does it exist?
This latest chapter in Disney’s never-ending quest to impose all of its hits on us again, in live-action format, is a profound miscalculation on almost every level, especially about how to revisit a beloved animated property that boasts some pretty problematic themes.
This feels lousy to say, because I was rooting for a huge success to follow the noxious backlash to the trailer last year: Some people apparently couldn’t handle the audacity of reinventing a cartoon character as a Black actress. But star Halle Bailey, in the role of Ariel, has nothing to apologize for: She’s the best thing about this movie. Unfortunately, that’s faint praise.
A lot of ink and pixels have testified to the value of Black children and their moms being able to see themselves in a Disney heroine, and that’s a powerfully admirable goal – as well as a long-overdue one, given the brand’s still overwhelmingly White majority of characters.
Unfortunately, director Rob Marshall’s approach sets a tone of violence at the beginning, rather than inspiration. The film kicks off with a sequence in which the crew of Prince Eric’s trade ship lean and leer over the edge, throwing harpoons at something in the water. A whale? A mermaid? It’s never quite clear, but the bloodlust certainly is. I can’t believe the kids in my screening had imagined a movie called “The Little Mermaid” beginning this way. Yikes.
Then there’s the running time: Two hours and fifteen minutes. The original was an hour twenty-three. The time expansion is such a comically bad decision, I still can’t get my head around it. Nothing little kids like more than sitting still for over two hours! Most recent Disney remakes have kept it at least under the two-hour mark, with the exception of 2017’s “Beauty and the Beast” and 2021’s “Cruella,” both of which were, at least, livelier than this one.
Everywhere you look, a detail about the movie has been slightly altered, but most end up being empty gestures rather than meaningful updates. For example, King Triton (Javier Bardem, who mostly looks bored) still has a bunch of adoring daughters who follow his every command, except now they’re a rainbow of ethnic diversity. So what’s the message here: diversity is good as long as patriarchy remains intact?
When Bailey’s Ariel gives up her voice in exchange for a human body, with three days to kiss the prince, she’s also given amnesia about the kiss part – which handily removes the fun from the original film of having her be an active participant in trying to get the smooch. And in this iteration of Ursula’s show-stopping number “Poor Unfortunate Souls,” they’ve removed the lines in which she smacks down Ariel’s doubts about losing her voice: “The men up there don’t like a lot of blabber. They think a girl who gossips is a bore. Come on, they’re not all that impressed with conversation. True gentlemen avoid it when they can! But they dote and swoon and fawn on a lady who’s withdrawn, it’s she who holds her tongue who gets a man!”
As Alex Abad-Santos of Vox tweeted, it’s “quite literally the best part of the entire song that crystallizes cynical Ursula’s worldview and, at the same time, shows us how she’s tricking Ariel.” Menken has said the change was made because the lines “might make young girls somehow feel that they shouldn’t speak out of turn,” which feels fairly patronizing; in my experience, kids are very good at knowing not to take a cartoon villain’s advice at face value.
That’s gone, but Lin-Manuel Miranda has added some new music, notably a rap song for Awkwafina as the seagull Scuttle, a number which is brief but so tonally different it brings the scene to a screeching halt. If there’s one unifying quality to all of these tweaks, it’s that they aren’t going to convince any of the 1989 movie’s fans that this one is worth their time or money.
More broadly, Disney’s painted the movie with the broad brush of corporate studios’ vision for What We Think Will Put Butts in Seats, which consists mostly of gloomy, under-lighted visuals (which audiences are, in reality, very tired of) and extensive action scenes. The 11th-hour standoff in which McCarthy’s Ursula grows to Godzilla proportions is so very dark here that you can barely see her, which begs the question of how much bad CGI they’re trying to cover up.
As Hollywood continues to wring its hands about the decline of moviegoing, “The Little Mermaid” doesn’t feel like it’s going to be an asset in that fight – let alone inspire many repeat viewings. (I imagine any parent who’s known the earworm of “Let It Go” from “Frozen” will know this is damning indeed.) Maybe a cool reception will inspire a little more introspection for Disney before next spring’s release of the next remake: “Snow White.” What could go wrong?
 
I feel like I've seen a few examples of this in recent times, like they're almost close to getting it (beyond the obvious flaws like the crappy CG) but they're ideological tunnel vision is preventing them from seeing the forest for the trees, so to speak.
And meanwhile we continue to be baffled as to why Disney and so many others are pandering to this crowd when they will never be satisfied...
submitted by maxsommers to kotakuinaction2 [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 00:50 rcknscknrobot [F4M] 36F Oregon/Anywhere- Hoping to find my person before Reddit implodes next week

Been lurking and messaging for a while now, and met some very interesting people. But still looking for my one. Hoping he’s been lurking here as well and this post will draw him out.
About Me:
Personality wise, I tend to be silly and sarcastic, inquisitive and adventurous, and my friends tell me I’m caring and empathetic. I’ve been known to fall down research rabbit holes, and am most likely to be left behind in a natural history museum. I’m areligious/atheist but love religious architecture/historical customs. Politically, I’m liberal. Katie Porter gives me life. Physically, I’m a tall fat girl with tattoos. If that’s not your cup of tea, best of luck to you!
I’m a lover of the outdoors. Hiking is my meditation, and I backpack or car camp every summer. Finding a partner who wants to enjoy this with me would be a dream come true. I also love long walks on the beach (cliché, I know), especially after a winter storm. I’m a bit of a crazy plant lady, and am currently obsessed with carnivorous plants.
When I’m inside, I love curling up in bed or on the couch with a good book (scifi/fantasy or nonfiction preferred), or watching a dark comedy or campy monster movie. There is little better than a lazy day cuddled up with my lover and laughing at a terrible movie. I’m an avid PC gamer (only PvE, and no MMOs), and have a modest board game collection.
About You:
I’m looking for my best friend and life partner. Someone who will support and challenge me into being the best version of myself. Who values open communication when dealing with conflict, and thinks of our relationship as a team finding solutions to the challenges of life. Who will be silly with me and tease me as much as I’ll tease him. The guy who wants a life full of adventures both big and small. Let’s go see the Aurora Borealis from a Finnish glass igloo, or rent a camper to drive across New Zealand. We’ll go see that new exhibit at our favorite museum, or try that new recipe or ingredient we stumbled across (I love innovating in the kitchen). Help me build a sleeping platform in the back of my car so we can road trip to all the national parks. We should hurry on that one, before Florida and the Everglades become inaccessible.
Please be within 5 years of my age. I’m willing to go a year or two outside that for an amazing connection, but I find it’s difficult to relate if the age gap is too large.
Dealbreakers: kids (bio, adopted, or step), smoking/vaping, cats (I’m allergic)
Your pic gets mine
submitted by rcknscknrobot to R4R30Plus [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 00:48 rcknscknrobot [F4M] 36F Oregon/Anywhere- Hoping to find my person before Reddit implodes next week

Been lurking and messaging for a while now, and met some very interesting people. But still looking for my one. Hoping he’s been lurking here as well and this post will draw him out.
About Me:
Personality wise, I tend to be silly and sarcastic, inquisitive and adventurous, and my friends tell me I’m caring and empathetic. I’ve been known to fall down research rabbit holes, and am most likely to be left behind in a natural history museum. I’m areligious/atheist but love religious architecture/historical customs. Politically, I’m liberal. Katie Porter gives me life. Physically, I’m a tall fat girl with tattoos. If that’s not your cup of tea, best of luck to you!
I’m a lover of the outdoors. Hiking is my meditation, and I backpack or car camp every summer. Finding a partner who wants to enjoy this with me would be a dream come true. I also love long walks on the beach (cliché, I know), especially after a winter storm. I’m a bit of a crazy plant lady, and am currently obsessed with carnivorous plants.
When I’m inside, I love curling up in bed or on the couch with a good book (scifi/fantasy or nonfiction preferred), or watching a dark comedy or campy monster movie. There is little better than a lazy day cuddled up with my lover and laughing at a terrible movie. I’m an avid PC gamer (only PvE, and no MMOs), and have a modest board game collection.
About You:
I’m looking for my best friend and life partner. Someone who will support and challenge me into being the best version of myself. Who values open communication when dealing with conflict, and thinks of our relationship as a team finding solutions to the challenges of life. Who will be silly with me and tease me as much as I’ll tease him. The guy who wants a life full of adventures both big and small. Let’s go see the Aurora Borealis from a Finnish glass igloo, or rent a camper to drive across New Zealand. We’ll go see that new exhibit at our favorite museum, or try that new recipe or ingredient we stumbled across (I love innovating in the kitchen). Help me build a sleeping platform in the back of my car so we can road trip to all the national parks. We should hurry on that one, before Florida and the Everglades become inaccessible.
Please be within 5 years of my age. I’m willing to go a year or two outside that for an amazing connection, but I find it’s difficult to relate if the age gap is too large.
Dealbreakers: kids (bio, adopted, or step), smoking/vaping, cats (I’m allergic)
Your pic gets mine.
submitted by rcknscknrobot to cf4cf [link] [comments]

2023.06.06 22:39 410bore [Thank You] May Mailbag... sorry some of this is so late, but I do appreciate ALL of you!

u/jane_q Thank you so much for the darling birthday card. Your heartfelt note and suggestions about my birthday ambivalence warmed my heart. Also, fellow fountain-pen user, be patient with your writing improvement. It takes time and lots of practice to get really consistent with it. Honestly I thought your writing was GREAT as-is, so any improvements you make are just refinements at this point, right? If you haven't checked out the fountainpens subreddit, you should. Lots of good FP info and help over there and the peeps are all super-nice. Thanks for the stickers as well!
u/omggallout x2! The two Disney postcards were lovely. Fantasia is an all-time favorite of mine; the classic-est of the classic Disney movies! It has an awesome soundtrack as well. And I needed those nice-weather vibes; we had the snowiest spring that I can remember... 14" on the ground one day early April and continued to snow for a couple weeks after that. It's nice to have warm weather again.
u/chip-girl I ADORED this card. A handmade constellation and space card no less! I like the clever way you put shine on the stars on front and the space kitty inside was just the cat's meow! I don't have a Circuit; I have a Silhouette, but pretty much the same thing. I love it, although it's an older model and I probably should upgrade sometime soon. I also do other crafty things... sewing, pysanky and the like.
u/amabisca The coloring postcards are darling! I love cats, so I'll have fun coloring these and seeing how they turn out. The best thing is that once I'm done, I can send them on to someone else on RAOC!
u/blue-wanderer-quartz Where did you get these tiny yet adorable tarot cards? I love the artwork on it! And the advice given by the card was pretty useful as well as the stickers of the moon phases being right up my alley. I also liked the card you enclosed it all in; origami horses... very cute!
u/feellikebeingajerk well, you're not a jerk, this was a lovely card and as I'm a big Klimt fan, I really enjoyed it. I have seen many of this artist's paintings in person and the guy was brilliant. If you ever have a chance, go to the Klimt exhibit in Vienna... it's wonderful.
u/jane_q This FANTASTIC vintage pulp fiction postcard was marvelous. I love this art style.... it's so kitschy and fun. The astronomy stamps on the back were the perfect touch, thanks for using them on my card and I'm surprised you didn't run into anyone else into astronomy/space before this!
u/natsby it was fun to get a card all the way from England for my birthday! I appreciate you sending me something from so far away. I loved the little enclosures (tiny memo pad and sticker) and the fact it was a moon phases card was just wonderful. I love space and astronomy and it was perfect!
u/hannonerin Muito obrigada pelo cartão postal! Morava no brasil quando eu era jovem, como estudiante intercambio, com uma familia Brasileira. Agora, u sou velha, mais ainda não esqueceu completamente falar em português. Tenho saudades do Brasil e a gente amável. Gostaria visitar um dia de novo.
u/okayflan Thank you for another lovely mailing! It always makes me smile to get one of your cute decorated cards. I love the assortment of fun stickers that you always use!
u/notinmywheelhouse The Marimekko postcard is so pretty. Getting it in the mail reminds me of my Finnish penpal whom I wrote to for nearly 50 years, introduced me to Marimekko, and who is sadly now passed away. All good memories. Thanks for giving me that little throwback to a friendship that meant a lot to me. :)
u/awachob WHAT TO SAY ABOUT THIS CARD????? The X-Files is my absolute, all-time, favorite show and your very crafty, handmade card did it complete and total justice! This one is going up on my desk on a permanent basis because I WANT TO BELIEVE! Thank you so much for picking me to send the card to; I don't think anyone else could appreciate it more than I do. :)
submitted by 410bore to RandomActsofCards [link] [comments]

2023.06.06 19:27 ir1379 NYT article from 1971

THE compulsive gambler sub consciously wants to lose his shirt, of course, along with everything else he owns, and so he again and again puts down the rent money on the Montreal Expos or 80‐to‐1 2‐year‐old maiden fillies wear ing blinkers and bandaged forelegs. And if he's nothing else, Walter Matthau, the 50‐year‐old stage and movie actor, is a compulsive gambler. A few years ago, for instance, while in Florida to film episodes of a TV series called “Tallahassee 7000,” Matthau breath‐takingly managed in a mere two weeks to drop no less than $183,000. He lost the money, moreover, not by backing crippled nags at Hialeah but mainly instead by betting on the outcome of spring training baseball games, a way of tossing bundles of money out the window that should surely that year have won him the Nobel Prize for masochism.
Since dropping that $183,000, sum that eventually took, him six years to pay off to his increa ingly impatient Mafia ‐ connected book maker, Matthau has cut down con siderably on the amounts that he bets, especially when he goes to race tracks, and on a good day at Holly wood Park he can now come happily home having lost only $400 or $580.
Still, he continues casually to bet thousand dollars or so on things like N.B.A. play‐off games or whether or not a friend can name the capital of Albania, and so remains a prime example of the evils of gambling to all those New Yorkers who are thinking of taking a first‐time fling at the ponies because of an easy access these days to offtrack betting windows in Grand Central Station and elsewhere. “I think that off‐track betting is great for New York,” dryly remarked Matthau during a recent three‐day visit to the city from his home in California. “I mean, it's so democratic—if they keep up off‐track betting long enough, every body in town will be on welfare.”
Of course, though he has the mo rose, hangdog look of a chronic loser, Matthas is scarcely a loser in everything he gets mixed up in. Far from it, as a matter of fact. For example, when signing contracts for his last several movies he chose to gamble on accepting a percentage of the profits in lieu of a salary, and at least one of these gambles has al ready handsomely paid off—his per centage of “Cactus Flower,” a film he made a couple of years ago with Ingrid Bergman and Goldie Hawn, has so far amounted, to more than a million dollars. And he's also on the way to making another million or so as his share of the profits from each of his two most recent pictures—“A New Leaf,” a wacky comedy in which he is co‐starred with Elaine May, and “Plaza Suite,” the film version of Neil Simon's exceedingly successful Broadway play. So, unlike almost every other compulsive gamb er in the country, Matthau is nowadays just about literally rolling in money. Besides, pleased with the way that his career is going, with his marriage, with his three children, and with his seaside home in Pacific Palisades, Calif., Matthau is even happy, an emotion not normally associated with the compulsive gambler.
HOW does a compulsive gambler get to be one? The story of Matthau's life is perhaps an object lesson to all of those who have lately been spend ing their lunch hours in Grand Cen tral Station to wait in line for the dubious privilege of giving away their money to Howard Samuels and his Off track Betting Corporation. In any event, Matthau was born on the lower East Side of Manhattan on Oct. 1, 1920, the son of an impoverished Russian‐Jewish immigrant from Kiev, in the Ukraine, and of a Lithuanian born Jewish mother.
When Matthau was 3 years old, and his older brother, Henry, was 5, his father, a worker at such odd jobs as serving subpoenas for law firms, lit out for parts unknown, leaving him and his brother to be raised by their mother, Rose, who managed to scrape a marginal living for herself and her sons by working as a sewing machine operator in garment district sweatshops. In 1935, when Matthau was 15 years old, he learned of his father's death in Bellevue Hospital. His mother is still living, and—sup ported in the grand manner by her sons (Matthau's brother lives now on Long Island and is a jobber of surplus Army‐Navy goods)—divides her time these days between a penthouse on West End Avenue and a condo in Miami Beach.
During his childhood, Matthau, his brother and his mother lived in succession of cold‐water tenement apartments in the Ukrainian area of the Lower East Side, that is, around East Fifth Street near Second Av enue, being forced to vacate each apartment after only a few months because they'd got so hopelessly far behind in the rent that their land lord would have them evicted. Years later, when Matthau briefly sublet Paul Newman's house in Hollywood for $3,700 per month, he recalled with a shake of his head that $3,700 was more money than the Matthau family had spent on rent during 20 years on the Lower East Side. Mat thau, however, hasn't the slightest nostalgia these days for his poverty ridden childhood. “It was a night mare—a dreadful, horrible, stinking nightmare,” he grimly remembers.
On the Lower East Side, Matthau recalls, the highest ambition of most of his class ates was some day to become a salesman for a garment district dress house, for he himself secretly had far more exalted am bitions — by the age of 8, a day dreamer, a loner, a reader of Shake speare, he'd already determined to become a famous writer and actor. Encouraged by a teacher who ad mired his speaking voice, Matthau appeared in a number of school plays and also regularly recited poetry in school assemblies. On East Fifth Street, anyone who evinced an interest in poetry was thought by his classmates to be seriously lacking in machismo, and Matthau often found himself getting beaten up at recess by schoolyard bullies. So, already feet tall by the age of 10 (he weighed only 90 pounds, however, and, says Matthau, who is today 6 feet 3 inches tall and weighs 180 pounds; “when I drank cherry soda, I looked like thermometer”), he put himself through a regimen of muscle‐building until “I had Popeyelike bumps on my skinny arms and could beat up any body who made snide remarks about my poetry reading.”
When Matthau was 11 years old, in fact, one of those whom he alleges to have beaten up in the schoolyard was none other than Rocky Graziano, who grew up, of course, to become the middleweight boxing champion of the world. Of Matthau's claim to having beaten up Graziano, one can unequivocally make the following statement: The story either is or is not true.
IN any event, along with being a compulsive gambler, Matthau is also something of a compulsive stretcher of the truth. Or, to put it perhaps a bit more tactfully, a compulsive weaver of fiction when it comes to talking about his past. For example, bored with repeating the story of his life over and over again to interview ers, Matthau has on more than one occasion told newspapermen and magazine writers that his father was a defrocked Russian Orthodox priest who'd had to flee for his life from Czarist Kiev in 1906 because he'd been preaching sermons in support of Pope Pius X. And this story, told by Matthau to interviewers with an absolutely straight face, has appeared several times as the God's truth in such usually accurate publications as Time and Current Biography.
NOT long ago, too, when Matthau was in New York for a round of newspaper, maga zine, radio and TV interviews to promote “Plaza Suite,” chanced to be in earshot when he told a story to Neil Simon that he'd heard the night be fore from Gene Saks, the director, about a somewhat aging and hard ‐ of hearing actor who'd had trouble re membering his lines in a play last winter at the Palm Beach Playhouse in Florida. So, as Matthau told the story to Si mon, a prompter, unseen by the audience, was hidden in a hole cut into the front of the stage and instructed to call out only key words to the actor when a line was for gotten. “Drastic,” whispered the prompter when the actor went up in his lines on the opening night of the play. From the hard ‐ of ‐ hearing actor, no response. “Drastic,” repeated the prompter in a somewhat louder voice. Again, no response. “Drastic,” the prompter now all but shouted. Still no response, upon which a man in the second row of the orchestra stood up and yelled “Dastic!” The actor heard him, smiled, remem bered his line, and the play went on.
As show‐biz stories go, not bad. Not so great, either. The following evening, however, happened to be on hand when Matthau was being inter viewed by David Frost on Frost's TV talk show and was asked, “What was your most embarrassing moment in the theater?” And, without batting an eyelash, Matthau pro ceeded to tell the “drastic” story as though it was some thing that had happened to him years ago on Broadway.
He concocts personal anec dotes that aren't true, Mat thau later somewhat abashedly told me, because they liven up otherwise boring inter views and make his past seem more colorful than it really was. “Like saying that my father was a Catholic priest — I figure that makes me more interesting than just another Jewish actor who had a pair of Jewish parents,” Matthau explained to me with a grin. “Jewish and Catholic— if I can just work a Protestant into my background, I'm all set.”
submitted by ir1379 to problemgambling [link] [comments]

2023.06.06 17:34 zaicliffxx reasons to nofap

submitted by zaicliffxx to NoFap [link] [comments]

2023.06.06 17:32 zaicliffxx Reasons to do NoFAP

submitted by zaicliffxx to NoFap [link] [comments]

2023.06.06 15:26 Jingobingomingo What was the best year of your life and why?

Mine was 2016
Me turning 18
Seeing Deadpool with my best friend in theaters
Having my first kiss
Getting laid for the first time
Graduating high school
Starting college
First time I ever tried weed
First time I ever got drunk
The last beach trip I ever went on with my high school friends, when we all managed to get together and went to the beach in a big group and had one of the most fun days of our lives
Meeting my best friend from college and all the memories we made together
Getting high around Christmas time and losing my shit dying of laughter at the sound of Christmas music playing
Going to my cousin's wedding
Going to prom
The election of Donald Trump
Trying acid for the first time
Sleep over at my theater friend's house
Getting robbed walking home one night
Making short films for a high school class and winning "best actor" during my HS's film festival because I did cameos in all of my classmates' movies
The last musical I ever performed in back in HS, I remember looking at the stage one last time and struggling to hold back my tears
Saying the last goodbye to all my high school friends
Being saved from ending my life by my best friend at the time
The senior speeches from the acting club when I could finally tell my cast mates how much they meant to me over the years
God, 2016 was one of the absolute best years of my entire life and I wish beyond everything I could experience it one final time, I know I can't but I wish.
Other best year was 2021, which was the year I met my girlfriend after a full year of agonizing loneliness, and the year I could enjoy actual freedom collecting unemployment from the state up until September. I remember our relationship was very tumultuous at the start, we began on a date, were friends for a while, then off again on again, getting to know each other and connect more and more, back then it was frequently painful, but those experiences honestly made where we're at now all the more sweet and beautiful. Most painful point in that year was my childhood cat passing away in front of me and my mom, loved her to tears, we both cried over her and mourned her for a long time, got her ashes in an urn in our house, but at least she wasn't alone when she passed, and her family was with her. And not too long after, I met my beloved, who saved me from my loneliness and directionlessness towards life.
So yea, favorite year for anyone else?
submitted by Jingobingomingo to GenZ [link] [comments]

2023.06.06 08:39 lianaalvarao Incredible Things to do in Vegas

Incredible Things to do in Vegas
https://preview.redd.it/hnqws68bfc4b1.jpg?width=1350&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=710d7f3220ea70b2ada667ba6e0c13f1fc18a1f1
Las Vegas, NV. Just mentioning the name of the community conjures up a pictorial image of dazzling neon lights, top-of-the-line resorts, and the myriad of casinos. Sporting a popular culture of being referred to as Sin City in movies like The Hangover, Las Vegas usually takes on a negative image. For more information on things to do in Vegas, Nevada's biggest city draws an estimated 36 million visitors per year. The majority of people assume the "party capital of the world" to be Las Vegas, but that's just one small slice of the Mojave Desert's nightlife.
Las Vegas is a city in southwestern Nevada whose name is For you 'the mechanic's village,' in Greek. Therefore, this was the location of much productive work, particularly with regards to the Hoover Dam Project.

Popular Attractions in Vegas

1. Neon Museum

Las Vegas's penchant for discarding things as soon as they become old, useless, or unprofitable often leads the city to demolish old buildings, but many of its historic neon signs have actually survived and been brought over to the Neon Museum to be saved. Book a tour to tour Las Vegas's historic sites and hear the tale of eccentric millionaires, long-lost landmarks, as well as other unbelievable individuals who made Las Vegas. If you like reading such blogs then check out things to do in las vegas on Lowest Flight Fares. On this site you will find blogs on fun things to do in las vegas, best things to do in vegas, free things to do in las vegas, things to do in las vegas strip, things to do in las vegas with kids, things to do in vegas during the day, things to do in vegas for couples, cheap things to do in vegas, things to do in las vegas for couples, things to do in vegas besides gamble, cheap things to do in las vegas, things to do in lake las vegas, things to do with toddlers in las vegas, things to do in vegas alone.

2. Fremont Street Experience

Fremont Street's historic area of bars, restaurants, and casinos still happens to be an incredible place to have a good time. There's always continuing improvements to the place, with new additions being constantly made within, which keeps its wide variety of entertainment purposes alive and well. The prices are surprisingly low, making it a sensible option for everybody. The overhead canopy light and sound show voids the audio when well-known songs play, in addition to the surrounding light show. Most people move on though once an automated zipline breeze speeds things up. Wander the old one-halted Vegas to pick up a no wait beer for a safe scenic walk-through.

3. Caesars Palace

A visit to Caesars in Las Vegas is a last opportunity to experience the glamor of the old-school casino industry, and few downtown casinos can match it for setting. Take a chance at the tables there to get a few chips on your enormous gaming floor, take a dip in the remarkable Garden of the Gods pool, browse the Forum Shops, see a concert on the Colosseum stage, or just enjoy touring through the spacious halls while preparing for The Hangover. Also check out the Las Vegas Tour Guide for more information about this incredible city.

4. Dig This

Found a little farther away from the Strip than the Venetian, heavily wooded and open, is a heavy equipment playground where visitors can drive thick Tonka toys. You can choose a Caterpillar D5G bulldozer or a Caterpillar 315CL with an excavator, you can build large mounds and push oversized tanks.

5. Hoover Dam

The Great Depression-era construction that dammed the Colorado River and created Lake Mead, The Hoover Dam looms large in Las Vegas history and 726 feet high is the curving facade's striking aspect from any of the vantage points reported in the guides, boat tours, or flights from Lake Mead. It took nearly 20 years and 18,000 people to build the dam on the Colorado River, and it's definitely worth taking a look at the miles at its end.

6. Park Theater

Among the biggest entertainment trends today is the changing role of production halls, with changes in entertainment patterns prompting star entertainers and notable musicians to populate casino showrooms. Bestowing praise on their followers, performers which include Bruno Mars, Lady Gaga, Aerosmith, and Cher were among the stars who were regular tenants of the park theater. The venue seats approximately 5,200, and VIP seating offers patrons the option of hiring their own dedicated staff to handle their cocktail needs.

7. The Mob Museum

Comprised of one of a former courthouse building's former sections and an amphitheater where part of the Kefauver Hearings took place, this summit narrates stories of organized crime all over the world, and, particularly, in Las Vegas, where the Mafia ran its agenda with the help of law officials. Permanent exhibits feature a vintage electric-chair model, a fragment of the Saint Anthony hairdryer.
Valentine's Day featured a wall covered in Levine's Massacre , as well as a thrilling slot machine in a speakeasy exhibiting all alcoholic beverages. For an extra fee, you may participate in special adventures like the Crime Lab, the App Store Simulation of Firearms or a private tour of the area's diamond engagement ring distillery where you can purchase a glass of champagne.

8. Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area

When visitors to Las Vegas find out that The Grand Boulevard is actually 40 miles of wilderness situated near a metropolitan area, they're usually quite curious. After all, the city is home to canyons and mountains, which provide the type of hiking Las Vegas visitors enjoy living here. Visit Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area, where rock walls are lined with athletic hikers along classic trails and crevasse-ridden ravines feet in length lead to breathtaking foothills. Not into hiking? Go on a scenic, 13-mile loop in the park to catch a morning or sunset view of the surroundings without enduring the heat.

9. The Golden Knights at T-Mobile Arena

Las Vegas has been in need of a professional sports team for many years, and the team was welcomed to the city in 2017, fulfilling the locals' longed-for wish for its arrival at that time. A remarkable trend brought by the team's debut was cemented in Las Vegas's hearts, and the tremendous support the team received nationwide and worldwide shows just how popular the group has become. If you live near Las Vegas throughout the NHL season, stop by the Strip-side T-Mobile Arena to catch a game. This is where the black and gold and the halftime show enjoy the game, attracting devoted fans. Outside of the NHL, it is hockey à la Las Vegas.

10. The Venetian Las Vegas

An attractive resort and amusement complex that provides gondola rides and elaborate d cor, the Venetian incorporates St. Mark's Square in its expansive indoor and outdoor models. Inside the central plaza, the scenery has Frommer's around the basin. Relax in deluxe comfort at The Venetian, as it has some of The Strip's largest suites and has numerous pools across a Romanesque garden.

11. The Peppermill

Unless you haven't been to Peppermill, you haven't really been to Las Vegas. The neon front of the Peppermill 24-hour diner pulsates with bright citron paint. It welcomes guests to sit down in velvet booths that are as savory as plates of eggs, hash browns, and piled-high fruit salads. The ending section of the Fireside Lounge is an enclosure that you could go to before or after your meal, and a lovely throwback to the 1970s, a time when disco was popular and disco balls were everywhere. Consume nacho chips and a 64oz Scorpion Bowl by a fire pit so you and your guests can get away from your guests, with the fire crackling just outside.

12. Pinball Hall of Fame

Arcade game enthusiasts should make a beeline most definitely for the Pinball Hall of Fame, a world famous for its dozens of outstanding pinball machines and vintage games that not even the most hip modern Mercedes-Benz vans can match. Bring your quarters.

13. Lake Las Vegas

Just 16 miles east of the Las Vegas Strip, Lake Las Vegas has a massive selection of hotels, golf courses, restaurants, entertainment, outdoor recreation and water activities. The lake is safe for stand up paddleboarding, kayaking, fly fishing, and rowing. Take a boat cruise or a dragon boat race, then tie up on the shore for ground concerts in spring, summer, and fall.

14. The Bellagio Conservatory

Part of the reason Bellagio Conservatory & Botanical Gardens is such a great place for free outings is that it constantly refreshes its garden and grounds. Piling up vegetation in the 24-hour gardens will present you with an opportunity to check out a spectacular botanical display that includes a stunning combination of plants. It's akin to a miniature Disneyland for plant enthusiasts.

15. High Roller Observation Wheel

This is the largest observation wheel in the world and has one of the most magnificent views of the skyline on the outskirts of it. Take a 360-degree spin 550 feet above the Las Vegas Strip or go for a 4D mix. Do you want to heighten your experience? Book your ride and enable the Happy Half Hour.

16. Mandalay Bay Beach

The National Museum of the Aztecs is a great place to visit in Las Vegas when in the warm sunlight. This center also features the tropical Mandalay Bay Beach, where lively activities will keep the whole family entertained. Three poolside bars are located near three bondways, each of which is lined by seating beach bungalows covered with numerous pillows.

17. Ferraro's Restaurant & Wine Bar

A favorite with local LV natives, Ferraro's Italian Restaurant & Wine Bar has been serving up fine Italian cuisine for over three decades. The establishment honors a southern Italian heritage with unique dishes featuring house-made pasta, high-grade meats and unique produce from private farms. Paired with a stunning wine list to complement your beautiful tastes, your sommelier will tailor your dining experience to your taste. Ferraro s is a fantastic option for you going out.

18. Spa at The Linq

Head to Spa at the Linq before a return trip to Sin City to effectively replenish yourself from distressing experiences from the night before. Make yourself comfortable, choose your own tunes, or even let the spa staff select an ideal fragrance combination for those struggling with pain. The spa-like Himalayan salt cave is the number one tourist attraction here. Features that help ease allergies and congestion are contained here, too.

19. Las Vegas Springs Preserve

The spa-like Himalayan salt cave is the number one tourist attraction here. Features that help ease allergies and congestion are contained here, too. The Springs of Las Vegas are known as the location of the birth of the Nevada urban area. Plenty of things to see and do in the vicinity make it worth visiting for a day. Children, bike rentals, and the Nevada State Museum are especially popular.

20. The Fountains of Bellagio

Tourists to Las Vegas go out of their way to witness the Bellagio signature dancing fountains. The fountains covering several acres are located near the hotel. MUSIC gets the water running every 30 minutes and a few times of day at night. Not just free of cost, this outstanding fountain has been immortalized by the production of Ocean s Eleven.

21. The National Atomic Testing Museum

Bear in mind that throughout the 1950s, a lot of individuals were strolling towards the street until The Strip, still watching their wild mushroom cloud pictures. The history of the development of America's nuclear weapons program is mesmerizing and horrifying. Ironically enough, Las Vegas was where lots of it happened. A visit to this wide collection of uniquely interesting stuff should most definitely be included on your Place To Get Lost list.
submitted by lianaalvarao to u/lianaalvarao [link] [comments]