Flower mound foot and ankle

Hello! This is a repost of a post I did a few days earlier, I had the opportunity to make some people smile and I felt very good about it. So here's me doing it again!
My name is Nush! I'm looking for a long term friendship, or if there's something I can do to make you feel better in the moment, I'm game! I can do anything from sending flowers to you, to making a gold playlist for you, or just being the best listener! There are a lot of people on here 'wanting' and not many people in a place to do the 'giving'. So maybe I can change that a lil bit ahahaha. No constraints on age/sex! I know these are tough times and I want to spread as much positivity as I can — so tell me, what can I do to make your day better? 🙇🏻‍♂️
Here's a little information about myself-
🖋 I'm an author and a poet and I like keeping things, ideas and people immortal in my work.
🤯 The only high class meme enthusiast. This is a consequence of being on the internet for far too long.
👟 I'm really passionate about the environment, and I'm very eco-friendly. I'm always open to having a healthy discussion/debate even on things I don't agree upon.
🍮 I love cooking! I'm always looking forward to learning new cuisines! I also like to grow most of my ingredients.
⭐ I really like anime, I've had this weird generational habit of collecting different rocks (Rockhounding), I gym everyday, I try to be spiritual, and one of my recent obsessions has been chess!
🏳️‍🌈 I'm bisexual and an LGBT ally! I've been in the worst depression and I've made it out. Here to give away all my love. ❤️
ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ

I had been planning a several-week trip in April to travel from SoCal to Yosemite, with the intention of camping and hiking in national forests along the way. Very much looking forward to the ample time and cold. However, the recent floods have closed down Kings Canyon and Sequoia, which were the main draws of my original route.
As a result, I am now looking for alternative destinations or routes that will allow me to dispersed camp and hike in the mountains, rather than along the coastline like doing the PCH. I would greatly appreciate any pointers to help me get off on the right foot with my wavering April plans.

Yahoyhoy goofballs!
Fashionably as I do ;P
Feeling pretty sleepy tonight so we're gonna run a nice relaxing game tonight!
Those who has a PS3 may recognize this game!
Lets hop into some Flower and blow these pretty pedals around :P
"Sleepy Benny Blows some Flowers around :P~(18+)"
https://twitch.tv/bennydcreatives

Yahoyhoy goofballs!
Fashionably as I do ;P
Feeling pretty sleepy tonight so we're gonna run a nice relaxing game tonight!
Those who has a PS3 may recognize this game!
Lets hop into some Flower and blow these pretty pedals around :P
"Sleepy Benny Blows some Flowers around :P~(18+)"
https://twitch.tv/bennydcreatives

So I was thinking today… and I know it’s been brought up by a few theorists that the plan may have been to smuggle Jon Benet out of the house in that large suitcase that was later put under the window, but maybe she couldn’t fit or rigor mortis made it impossible to get her inside. There was a duvet cover inside that could have been wrapped around to conceal her. I never gave this a lot of thought until I was driving home.
So I do believe that the nightgown found near JB was meant to be something they redressed her into, but didn’t happen. After all the narrative is- she’s taken from her bed as she’s sleeping right? So being in her nightgown with a blanket makes sense. I also think as parents who loved her, they’d want her be found in something pretty and pristine like her favorite nightgown rather than urine stained ill fitting long johns.
So what came to click in my head was this possible timeline. JB’s body is found by Patsy with Burke having done everything (including strangling her) or even let’s say she is killed accidentally by Patsy or John and the noose is a cover up act because they don’t know she’s not dead and they want to point to an outsider. So you got Patsy at least undoing and retightening the neck ligature to get her jacket fibers in there, adding duct tape and wrist restraints. You got her spending probably a long time writing a note. She moves the body into the wine cellar, puts her tray over the urine stain, intends to clean JB up and redress her into the nightgown but can’t because she’s running out of time OR rigor mortis has kicked in enough she can’t manipulate JB into the nightgown or get the old clothes off.
The note I think makes the point of the attaché case because the idea was take Jb out in the case, dump the body near somewhere the cops would find it quickly, and come back with the money inside of it. No one’s going to question the Ramseys leaving with a suitcase if they’ve been instructed by the kidnappers to use one.
I think Patsy woke john up/showed him the note much earlier then they called the cops. I think he figured it out or she told him then what happened and they argued probably over when to involve the cops and john won. I think somewhere before the cops were called he went downstairs to try to get jb into the nightgown and Patsy went upstairs to make sure Burke was briefed to stay in his room/be quiet/whatever they needed to tell him. My guess is if patsy wasn’t the one that wiped her down before, john did then so she wouldn’t be tied to the urine stain in the basement - which may be how some fibers that resembled his sweater got in her pubic area. My guess is since its the long johns were on the small side, he couldn’t get them off past the knees or ankles when rigor mortis kicked in. The top may also have been difficult to get off her head.
In the hour plus he was unaccounted for and came back acting totally squirrelly j think he was trying but failing to get her into the suitcase and possibly failing to get her into the nightgown (this may have happened then too). That coupled, with the cops never fully leaving made him panicky. He definitely didn’t want them to find her first with his having manhandled the body trying to get it in the case, so he ultimately chose the big reveal and grabbed and carried her body so there’d be a plausible reason for his prints/clothing fibers to be on her.
But I think that nightgown and the suitcase were the final bits of the coverup that didn’t materialize. That’s why she was cleaned but not redressed into her favorite nightgown found near her body. That’s why there was a suitcase normally kept upstairs found downstairs near the body and a suitcase mentioned to transport money in the ransom note.

Introduction to resume writing
Most job seekers find themselves in a situation where they've taken on too many projects, and as a result, their resumes are in need of a serious update. If you're in this boat, you're not alone. A recent survey of 1,000 job seekers found that 58% have not updated their resume in the past year, and 21% have not updated their resume in the past three years.
If it's been a while since you've updated your resume, don't fret. We're here to help. In this post, we'll show you how to write a resume that will get you noticed by employers and help you land the job you want.
First things first: let's define a resume. A resume is a document that outlines your work experience, skills, and educational background. It's typically used when applying for jobs, and it's the first thing employers look at when considering candidates.
There are different types of resumes, but the most common is the chronological resume. This type of resume lists your work experience in reverse chronological order, starting with your most recent job. It's the most common type of resume because it's easy to read and it gives employers a clear idea of your work history.
If you're not sure how to get started, take a look at our chronological resume template. This template will help you structure your resume and make sure you include all the important information employers are looking for.
Once you have a template you like, it's time to start filling it in. Here's what you need to include in your resume:
Contact information: Include your name, email address, and phone number.
Professional summary: A brief summary of your skills and experience.
Work history: A list of your previous jobs, including the job title, company name, dates of employment, and a brief description of your duties.
Skills: A list of your skills, including both hard and soft skills.
Education: A list of your educational qualifications, including the name of the institution, the type of degree, and the graduation date.
Optional sections: You can also include additional sections in your resume, such as volunteer
II. The importance of a well-written resume
There's no question that a well-written resume is important. After all, your resume is often the first impression you make on a potential employer. But what exactly makes a resume well-written? Here are a few tips to keep in mind:

1. Keep it concise. A resume should be a snapshot of your most relevant experience and skills. There's no need to include every job you've ever had or every skill you've ever acquired. Just include the information that's most relevant to the job you're applying for.
   
2. Use action words. A good resume is full of powerful, action-oriented language. Avoid weak words like "helped" or " oversaw." Instead, use words like "developed," "created," or "achieved."
   
3. Highlight your accomplishments. Your resume should highlight your successes and accomplishments. Include specific numbers and details to illustrate the impact you've made in your previous roles.
   
4. Tailor your resume. Every resume should be tailored to the specific job you're applying for. Don't just send out the same generic resume to every employer. Take the time to customize your resume for each job to increase your chances of getting called for an interview.
   
5. proofread. Always proofread your resume before sending it out. A single typo could be enough to eliminate you from consideration. Use spell check and have a friend or family member take a look as well.
   

Following these tips will help ensure that your resume is well-written and stands out from the competition. Investing the time to craft a strong resume will pay off in the long run as you land the job you really want.
III. The benefits of using a professional resume writer
There are many reasons to use a professional resume writer. A resume writer can help you create a custom resume that highlights your unique skills and experience, and can even help you land a job.
A professional resume writer can:
- Help you identify your transferable skills
- Help you focus your resume on the right keywords
- Help you write a custom resume that highlights your unique skills and experience
- Help you land a job
A professional resume writer can help you create a custom resume that:
- Highlights your unique skills and experience
- Is keyword-optimized
- Gets you noticed by employers
A professional resume writer can also help you:
- Understand what employers are looking for
- Write a custom resume that highlights your unique skills and experience
- Land a job
If you're looking for a job, a professional resume writer can help you create a custom resume that will get you noticed by employers.
IV. How to choose the right resume writer for you
If you're on the job market, the chances are that you'll need to enlist the help of a professional resume writer at some point. But with so many resume writing services out there, how do you know which one to choose?
Here are some things to keep in mind when selecting a resume writer:

1. Make sure the resume writer is experienced and certified.

The best resume writers will have extensive experience and training in the field of resume writing. They should also be certified by a reputable organization, such as the National Resume Writers' Association.

1. Ask for samples.

When you're considering a resume writer, be sure to ask for samples of their work. This will give you a good idea of their writing style and the quality of their work.

1. Find out what their process is.

A good resume writer will have a process in place to ensure that your resume is of the highest quality. They should start with a consultation to get to know you and your career goals, and then they'll create a draft of your resume. Once the draft is complete, they'll work with you to make any necessary revisions.

1. Get a sense of their personality.

You'll be working closely with your resume writer, so it's important that you feel comfortable with them. During your consultation, pay attention to their communication style and see if it's a good fit for you.

1. Make sure they offer a satisfaction guarantee.

Any reputable resume writer will offer some sort of satisfaction guarantee. This ensures that you're happy with the final product and that any revisions you need will be made.
Choosing the right resume writer for you is an important decision. But if you keep these things in mind, you'll be sure to find a great writer who can help you land the job you want.
V. The top mistakes people make when writing their own resumes
When it comes to writing your own resume, there are a few common mistakes that people tend to make. Here are the top five mistakes to avoid when writing your resume:

1. Not Tailoring Your Resume to the Job

When you’re applying for a job, it’s important to tailor your resume to the specific position you’re interested in. Generic resumes that don’t focus on any particular job are less likely to get noticed by employers. Take the time to customize your resume for each job you apply for, and you’ll increase your chances of getting an interview.

1. including Irrelevant Information

Your resume should be focused on your most relevant work experience and skills. There’s no need to include information that’s not directly related to the job you’re applying for. In fact, including irrelevant information can actually hurt your chances of getting an interview. Stick to the essentials and leave out anything that’s not directly related to the job.

1. Not Using Keywords

Employers often use applicant tracking systems (ATS) to sort and filter resumes. These systems are designed to scan resumes for specific keywords and phrases that match the job requirements. If your resume doesn’t include the right keywords, it may not get through the ATS and into the hands of a human recruiter.
To make sure your resume is keywords -
First, look at the job listing and make a list of the required skills and qualifications.
Then, look at your own resume and see if you’ve included those keywords.
If you’re missing any of the required keywords, try to work them into your resume where it makes sense.

1. Not Proofreading

One of the most common mistakes people make when writing their own resumes is not proofreading their work. It’s important to carefully proofread your resume before you submit it. Even a small typo or grammatical error can make you look less professional and could cost you the job.

1. Not Updating Your Contact Information

Make sure your contact information is up to date before you submit your resume. Nothing
VI. How a professional resume writer can help you avoid those mistakes
There are a few key reasons why working with a professional resume writer can help you avoid making common mistakes on your resume.
First, a professional resume writer understands what recruiters and hiring managers are looking for in a resume. They know what keywords and phrases to use, and how to structure your resume in a way that will make it easy for a busy recruiter to quickly see your value.
Second, a professional resume writer can help you identify and highlight your most relevant and impressive accomplishments. They know how to take your work history and education and turn it into a resume that will grab a recruiter's attention.
Third, a professional resume writer can help you avoid common resume mistakes, such as using outdated language or formatting your resume in a way that makes it hard to read. By working with a professional, you can be confident that your resume will be error-free and will make a strong first impression.
If you're serious about landing your dream job, working with a professional resume writer is a smart investment. By avoiding common resume mistakes and highlighting your best qualifications, you'll increase your chances of getting noticed by employers and landing the job you want.
VII. The bottom line: is hiring a resume writer worth it?
If you're on the fence about whether or not hiring a resume writer is worth it, this blog post is for you. We'll go over the pros and cons of hiring a resume writer, and help you decide if it's the right move for your career.
The Pros of Hiring a Resume Writer

1. A resume writer can help you clarify your career goals.

If you're not quite sure what you want to do with your career, a resume writer can help you figure out what you're looking for. They'll ask you questions about your skills and experience, and help you match them up with the right job. This can save you a lot of time and energy spent applying for jobs that you're not qualified for, or that don't fit your career goals.

1. A resume writer can help you highlight your strengths.

It can be difficult to know how to best present yourself on your resume. A resume writer can help you identify your strengths, and make sure they're front and center on your resume. They can also help you downplay any weaknesses, so that your resume is the best possible representation of you.

1. A resume writer can help you get more interviews.

A well-written resume is your ticket to getting more interviews. A resume writer can help you craft a resume that will get you noticed by employers, and make sure you're putting your best foot forward.

1. A resume writer can help you negotiate a higher salary.

If you're offered a job that you're happy with, but the salary isn't what you were hoping for, a resume writer can help you negotiate a higher salary. They'll know what salary range is appropriate for your experience and skills, and can help you get the salary you deserve.

1. A resume writer can help you make a career change.

If you're looking to make a career change, a resume writer can help you make the transition. They can help you identify the skills and experience that will transfer well to your new field, and make sure your resume highlights those skills. They can also help you downplay any experience that isn't relevant to your new
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I am making this possible using AI tech.
Guided meditations are not always for solving your problems, to heal or to process your emotions.
Have you ever thought to use them to amplify your exuberance, your love, your sweetness of emotions, your joy — all the things that make you happy and grateful.
Well.. all you need to do is tell AI what makes you happy/joyful and how it matters to your wellbeing. And it will create a guided meditation for you- personalized for you.
For example, you could tell it to make a guided meditation using anything as the focus of it - your partner, your mom, your dog, your work, your fav flower, your childhood memory etc.
If anyone wants early access to this please DM me.
Then, We are launching to public in few weeks.

The Shredder seems to be tired of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles foiling him, and as such, searching for new enemies in Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 and Warzone 2.0. That's right; the adversary of Splinter and the turtles is now available for those games as part of a downloadable bundle.Called Tracer Pack: The Shredder, the bundle offers the iconic villain alongside three weapon skins, a vehicle skin, Foot Clan charm, vinyl, and spray. A trailer for the TMNT character, seen below, shows him gunning down foes Link to article

Sorry if this is too much, I just had a brain explosion of ideas for this series to share with the subreddit, im also using these for a fan story im creating.
Game 1: King of the Hill
Difficulty: K ♠
Venue: Observation Deck (Like the Tokyo Skytree or the CN tower)
Player Limit: Exactly 13
Time Limit: 10 Rounds
Upon entering the venue on the very bottom floor of the Observation Deck, you are required to put a collar onto your waist until the end of the game. If you lose the game, the collar will explode killing you instantly. When you start the game, you must proceed up to the next floor and press the button in the very middle. However, the twist is that the King of Spades, A trained Aikido Martial Artist will try to knock you down and prevent you from pressing the button. The last person that presses the button at the end of 30 minutes will be given a game over, and if there is more than 1 person left they both will receive a game over. If there is only one person left, They will not receive a game over. If the button at the very top floor is pressed, then it is game over for the King of Spades.
Rules:
No forcefully trying to remove your collar
No bringing outside weapons or contraband
No escaping the venue
Game 2: Kingusubatoru
Difficulty: K ♦️
Venue: Japanese Shrine (Ex. Fushimi Inari Taisha)
Player Limit: 1
Once you enter the shrine, you will not find the King of Diamonds immediately, but when you get to the head of the shrine, you will find the King of Diamonds, an old man confined to a wheelchair, and in front of him is a board game.
The game goes as such, the board game, "Kingusubatoru" (Which Roughly translates to "Kings Battlefield") is a board game fully invented by the King of diamonds, AKA the old man. To beat the game, you must Win or Draw against the King of Diamonds, and it is game over if you lose. You will be put at an advantage, with the King of Diamonds only have 5 pieces as opposed to your 15, and when you hover your finger or hand on a piece, the squares will glow up where you can put it. You have to adapt and understand the rules of the game as you're playing it to win.
Game 3: Tied by Life
Difficulty: 9 ♣
Venue: Maintenance Facility
Player Limit: 20-30 players (Must be even)
Time Limit: 2 hours
When the game first starts, you must find one person to team up with. When you do, you must go into a room with them and put on a collar onto your foot. From there, a knot will be tied around both collars and interconnected. To be able to walk properly, you must synchronize your movements with your teammate. When the game starts, there will be a 5 minute intermission to scatter throughout the building. Things like Machete's, Fire Axes, And Knives can be found scattered throughout the building, and you can use them or keep them. The goal of the game is to cut every other team's knots until there are only 3 teams left.
Rules:
No escaping the venue
No harming the players with the weapons you are given
No contraband

I am attending the South Africa International Tattoo Convention this weekend, and would love to get something done, but I'm not sure what!
I have a small sun tattoo above my left elbow, and a sunflower on my right ankle. I have 2 cats, that I adore. I love raves and festivals. I love the ocean, whales and sea creatures. I would like to do an aum symbol at some point, but somewhat more creatively because of an emotional trip to stay with the Tibetan Monks in India. I love painting, colouring in, and puzzles. I am interested in YA novels, F1, psychology and mental health. I enjoy feelings of being bold, or free.
If you're feeling like it, let me know your ideas 😊
Thank you!

I am an LGBT student that attends a law school ranked in T-100. I didn't realize how few BL firms come to my school for OCI. I have a few straight to callbacks after 1L SA applications but didn't get a 1SA at a big law firm. I have great grades and resume and really want a 2L SA but need to find a way to get my foot in the door. Is it worth going to Lavender Law Conference for the career fair? Has anyone had success with this as most BL firms skip my school for OCI :( but I saw pretty much everyone is at Lavender Law. Wondering if it's a performative thing or legit for networking. Any insight is appreciated!

Fates had a good number of classes that have various weapon combinations. They all felt distinct, lack of swords on flyers balanced them out, Kinshi Knight being a flying archer is balanced out by bad growths and caps, etc.
The first thing that surprised me going into Engage was that Vander is a Paladin but he can only use axes and Alfred is a Cavalier in everything but name but he can only use lances. That's because Cavalier and Paladin are now locked into one weapon but there's variants of it. Then you find out that Griffin Knight has a sword, lance, and axe variant, Wyvern Knight can choose two among sword, lance, and axe, then other promoted cavalry units have a set weapon as their first (like knives for Wolf Knight) then the other one you can choose freely among sword, lance, and axe. Except Royal Knight because let's lock that to lance and staff only.
Here's how I would have redesigned the classes.
Wyvern Knight - Lance and axe only like with Fates. Sword on a flyer with stats like that is way too good. They were still good in Fates but nowhere as busted and you have reasons to choose other classes.
Griffin Knight - Lance and staff only like with Fates. If you're giving this to a high MAG unit like Chloe, there's practically no reason to use anything other than Sword Griffin Knight because of Levin Sword. Flame Lance is highly impractical as is but making this class lance only gives it an interesting use case. Griffin Knight also has a lower base BLD so there's no practical reason to go Axe Griffn Knight. A flying axe unit would always prefer to go Wyvern since it's slow anyway and would rather hit harder. While we're at it, the base BLD of this class should be upped so you're able to use at least an Iron Lance without getting weighed down. Axe and staff combination should have been War Cleric instead. Sword and staff combination should have been Trickster.
Paladin - Sword and Lance both S rank. Paladins have usually always been two weapons. Them being locked into one weapon hurts them.
Great Knight - Sword, lance, and axe. The break mechanic makes full weapon triangle access more valuable. This plus nerfing Wyvern Knight's weapon selection would balance the class and put both classes on equal footing.
Wolf Knight - Lance and Knives only. Sword and knife combination should have been Assassin instead. I'm not sure why anybody would go axe and knife combination on this class when it doesn't have good build for axes.
General - Lance and axe only like with Fates. Not sure why they have to be weapon locked. Yeah they can't be broken but they would appreciate having more offensive options.
Hero - Sword and axe only like they've usually been.
Mage Knight - Sword and tome only. Aside from Flame Lance being highly impractical, Hurricane Axe is only good on a few cases. Your Mage Knight is most likely going to have Levin Sword as their magic weapon. Basara and Oni Chieftain would have liked to come back.
Bow Knight - Sword and bow only. At base, anything above a Slim Lance would weigh you down and even Compact Axe weighs you down. Lance and bow combination could have gone to Merchant or Kinshi Knight and we already have Warrior for axe and bow combination.

Link to original story
https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/10meqmh/the_big_rock_candy_mountain_part_1/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button
The floor of the cell is covered in decades of mildew and dust. This disgusting carpet does nothing to dull the pain as I skip across it, thrown in by someone with the intention of making a point.
My Name’s Mike, and if any of you are the types to go on a deep dive, you probably know A little about me already.
For those of you that don’t, Jesus I don’t know exactly where to begin.
The Cliff’s notes would be that I spent a little over a decade either being a serial killer or a vigilante. I won’t try to justify my actions, both of those are just sides of the same shitty coin. I’m not a person to be idolized or emulated, so I choose not to plead my case.
Now, while I thought that was just about as screwed up as life could get, one day, out of the blue, after burying my best, fuck, my only friend I found myself, somewhere else. A world that looked and felt like mine, but one where the things that go bump in the night actually existed.
Where I came from, I’d seen monsters, to be sure, but only the kind that happen when people break.
Since I’ve been here? Got caught up in some demented gameshow for demons or something, threw a massive shit in the punch bowl of the thing running the production, and got the world’s unluckiest man his freedom.
And that leads me to my current situation, staring down the rage filled, mildly bruised face of that asshole, that fucking, demonic Ted Turner, Art.
He runs a hand aggressively through his slicked back hair, standing at the door to my cell.
“Looks like your little plan didn’t work, exactly as I predicted, you fuck.
I mean, great try with the little cat thing you had, honestly didn’t see that coming. But, Jesus, Mike, what was your end game? “ Art gloats.
“Cards on the table? It was a lot better, but shit fell through, that whiskey abomination, it was the one that ratted me out I assume?
That being said, still got Kev out. And you can’t really ‘flip off his lightswitch’ if he didn’t let you screw around with his wiring, can you? “ I grin, I keep it, even as a Gucci shoe slams into my face.
Am I scared? Of God damn course I am, I’ve been pissing myself (metaphorically speaking.) since I realised that the rules of reality don’t really apply any more.
Every new grain of sand on the beach of hell my life has become, tosses me further down the road of mental failure. Shit, that’s half of what fucked up my last plan in the first place.
If I could have just kept my shit together long enough, I’d be sipping a beer with Kev in some shit hole town somewhere. But the only thing harder than trying to stamp down fear in the face of God’s and monsters, is trying to do it while projecting some kind of ‘death fears me ‘ persona.
Between you and I? Death doesn’t fear me, in fact, it seems to love to hang around. And every day I have to stare down that grim spectre, the closer I get to losing the tenuous grip on reality I have .
“Oh, fuck Kev. He’s smart enough to stay off my radar, and too stupid to figure out a way to come back at me.
He's got a 1 bedroom in Idaho or something? Salud, good on him.
You, I had high hopes for, and then you decide to wipe your ass all over my carpet, cost me more than I could even explain, and even, get me a little roughed up. My favorite shell, anyway.
I want to recoup some loses Mike. So, you, get to be a part of another one of my projects.
You thought The Path was bad? Oh, you literal, fucking clown, you haven’t seen anything.
I won’t spoil it for you, the devil’s in the details and all, but you know what everyone loves?
Prison.
Not being in it themselves, of course, but seeing others, especially those they hate in there.
This place isn’t fair, the path was a boxing match with Queensbury rules, this is a handcuffed knife fight.
And I can’t wait to see you figure out, all the little surprises it has in store for you. “ Art laughs and tosses me a battered, ancient looking smartphone, “ Feel free to drum me up some good press online if you want. “
My heart is pounding, I have to use every bit of will I have to stop from shaking, to roll my neck and sit against the cold, padless cement bed behind me.
I feel sick, my stomach boiling and gurgling.
“For the love of whatever the demonic equivalent of Christ is, why not just kill me? I’m right here, I have no way of fighting back, and you know damn well that if you give me enough time, I’m going to find a way to wipe my ass on your doorframe next. “ My tone is flippant, or at least, I hope it is.
“The ego on you kid, you think you’re that guy don’t you?
They exist, don’t get me wrong, probably a couple thousand folks capable of taking me out, but trust me, you are not one of them.
This isn’t some ‘Arch’ idiocy where I leave my greatest rival alive. This is me watching you squirm because I can, and making a little profit on the deal.
Don’t flatter yourself. “ Art has produced a long thin knife as he talks, he spins and rolls it absently.
“Before your guys dragged me off, I met something. A corner store, I don’t know if it was haunted, possessed, or if it was some kind of creature that just decided to look like a knock off 7-11.
Point being, it was out there, ethereal, I couldn’t hurt it, outwit it, even slow it down. I ran from that thing as fast as I could. It gave me some serious Lovecraft vibes.
You, Art, are not that guy. “ I notice myself tapping my finger nervously on the slime covered floor, I focus, stopping the tic.
The tip of Art’s knife glows, the sick, grey sheen isn’t heat, but something that makes me start to back up.
“I am, but you will never see that. You’re not worth the effort.
I want to give you a little something though. “ Art stalks toward me, I stand as I back into the farthest corner of the cell, “ Proud of your face paint were you? “
Art grins, and for a moment lets some of his true self slip through. For just a moment I see timeless horror in his eyes, a dark black void of consumed souls and unrestrained evil.
That knife parts my flesh with pain like a whip. Without even using the blade, it’s presence flenses my face, opening up raw, textured furrows in my flesh.
He leaves after he is done, laughing to himself.
The pain makes me black out, my stomach is boiling, I come to dry heaving, the effort sends me back into the oblivion of sleep.
I don’t know how long has passed, my face feels like it is on fire, and the thick steel bars of my cell door are closed.
It takes me two minutes of cupping my hands under the grime laden steel tap to get enough water to clear off a spot on the rusted, old, wall mounted steel mirror.
No mortal hand could have scarred me as accurately as Art did. The wounds, not healed, but cauterised as to not make me bleed out, used depth, and width, to create a colorless replica of my makeup.
I know trauma, physical as well as mental, and these are scars that will never heal. As the fact sinks in that my face is literally no longer my own, I scream, heart pounding, I split open my knees on the cold cement floor.
Pain flares, threatens to send me back to the bliss of unconsciousness, but I don’t care.
I read Kev’s journals, and they paint me in a really… positive light, in a sense.
What I mean is, going by what he thought he saw, I’m some kind of supervillian or something. Tossing three hundred pound air conditioners ( it was the outer shell, seventy pounds, physics and luck did the rest.), wrestling Art ( I was clinging on for dear life, had it not been for Jr and the mass of denizens, I’d have been killed with a flick of his wrist.), or appearing like a ghost (people, even immortal are very unobservant. Especially in an emergency.).
I’m great at seeming horrifying, and that’s a weapon in and of itself, but at the end of the day, that’s all it is.
Kneeling in my own blood, vision blurry with pain, I realise how small, vulnerable, and unarmed I truly am.
By the time daylight shines through the yellow reinforced glass window, I’m already awake. I’ve spent an hour and a half calming myself, trying to find some focus, some centre to keep me going.
I’ve been in prison before, back home, first and last time I tried plying my trade outside of America.
Being the stupid payaso gringo that I am I bit off so much more than I can chew that I wound up choking on it for 2 months in a Mexican prison.
The routine of, count, lineup, chow, remained the same.
The demographics of the population on the other hand…
Being observant is one of my main skills and as I was brought into the absurdly sized cafeteria, I was taken aback at just how many people were here.
Tens of Thousands, easily, maybe a hundred. I try and think of how many missing person cases this accounts for, and even that math doesn’t quite add up.
I quickly inventory the groups that make up the place, not that it wasn’t obvious.
The first, of course are the guards. Some, the majority, appear to be human, well geared up and in intimidating physical condition.
But a handful, they are clearly, something else. Some are smooth featured ebony skinned giants, carrying truncheons that could crush a car engine. Others are grinning, pale skinned bad attempts at human copies, wild eyed and twitching.
Second would be what I called the cultists. They all appeared to style themselves after certain tropes and urban legends, clearly human, but dressing, tattooing and mutilating themselves to appear like, myths, legends, and monsters.
The subtle violence I see tells me I’ve found the gangs.
Third are the Everymen, I can’t see any kind of pattern to them, but they seem to make up the majority of the population. They keep their distance from the guards and the cultists, but on more than one occasion I see then stand, united against attempts at extortion.
The last group, I call the candles, people that are clearly on their way out mentally and physically. Sunken eyed, and set upon from all angles, at any moment these folks could be simply snuffed out.
I keep my distance, and stay respectful, the meandering, twisting line seems to take hours to get me my thick slice of crumbling yellow bread, and thick red slurry that reminds me of porridge masquerading as meat.
My coat is gone but I’m left with the majority of the clothing I fashioned back in the path. I see a mix of unwashed orange uniforms and ‘civilian’ clothing, some of the cultists, bordering more on costume than wardrobe.
As the massive, butchers apron wearing man in smeared clown makeup sits down, I wish I’d have been issued something more generic. I saw this coming the second I noticed a lump of Chlorophiles in blood stained getups.
“You sit with us. “ I can’t tell if it’s an accent or speech pattern, the clown sounds strange, either way.
I eat a spoonful of the red sludge.
“No disrespect intended, I’m not one for clubs. I’m going to make no waves, no plays, nothing. I’m a ghost. “ I say, levelly, avoiding eye contact.
Why, you might ask, having been told about my adventures in murder.
Well, that’s just it. Murder is easy, and any time you saw me end a life, it was just that.
A fight, that’s another thing entirely, especially against someone with a significant weight and height advantage.
“Not asking. You got friends. “ The massive clown moves his bulk closer, it’s like sitting next to a forklift.
I eat the bread, it tastes amazing until I swallow, then has a foul, chemical aftertaste.
I drink some tepid, burgundy fluid that might be caffeinated.
No weapons nearby, no one watching that might step in. I’m full of bruises and sprains, and probably anemic from blood loss. Not to mention one eye is running at about fifty per cent. Art didn’t sever the optic nerve last time, but he wasn’t gentle. My heart races.
“I don’t play well with people who take clowning and slap a coat of dark paint on it.
You guys are Clown Killers. You are good at killing, I’m sure, but the clown part, it’s tacked on.
Myself, I’m a killer clown…. “ I had a really good rant planned, honestly, it was a corker, douche bags would have used it in memes for a decade.
But before I can react, with one massive hand, he bounces my face off of the pitted steel table.
It rings my bell, but not as much as I let on. In clowning terms, what I do Is called a pratfall.
For those of you that don’t speak nerd, I oversell the hit, falling backwards, eyes fluttering.
I tip backwards, reaching out my left arm, as if to steady myself. The meat mountain is unbothered, knowing I have no chance unarmed, in this close, he let’s me grab one shoulder of the butchers apron. The material is thick, and matted in stains that will never come out, literally or metaphorically.
If you want to take someone out, in a relatively harmless way, you don’t want to choke them. It takes forever, usually ends up killing them, and generally is a bad idea for everyone involved.
Your goal is go cut off blood flow to the brain as quickly and fully as possible.
I hook my thumb around the opposite shoulder strap, and snap my body backward, the apron acting as an impromptu Garrotte.
His right arm is knotted through my left, as he tries to struggle, to put his murderous intent and ability to work, the choke only becomes tighter.
I don’t want enemies here, and I only have so many tricks to play before things come to a knock down drag out fight, so I leave the clown unharmed.
I do need friends, but the look I get as I take a seat at a loose collection of men is cold and fearful.
A red haired guy, five foot nine or so, makes eye contact, “Anything we can help you with? “ he says, fearless.
“Yeah, despite the face work I’ve had done, I have fuck all in common with any of those penny wise, Icp, Gacy dressed, assholes.
I need a tribe guys, you all look like the unlucky ones around here, but I don’t want to get involved in bloodshed.
I’m Mike “ I know, that’s only mostly true, but I mean it, either way. I extend a hand.
“Chris. “ the red haired guy says, he wears a white dress shirt and surprisingly blue jeans, “Those stains around your cuffs tell me otherwise.
If you’re telling the truth, that’s great. If you are lying, and still sane enough to keep your word, that’s even better. “ Chris’s tone is mirthless, I read him easily. He’s been here a long time for a short life, he looks thirty max, and I shudder to think how young he may have been when he came in.
Chris catches me up on the ins and outs of this place, beyond what a general knowledge of prison would give.
Everyone here has crimes they were not convicted of, that would, otherwise put them in jail for life. A large amount, obviously are murderers, torturers, real bastards.
But a significant minority are just regular folks, maybe a bit thoughtless, but that have collected a litany of small, petty, in cases almost victim less crimes.
No one seems to be aware of the… reality t.v. Meets demonic fast food aspect of things, but there is a Doom cherry on this fear Sunday.
There is a single way someone can get out. To earn 20 tokens.
And how does one earn these tokens you ask?
Each day the prison holds an event, to call it a challenge would insinuate a level of fair play that is simply not there. The events range from somewhat fair, a fight or game of chance, to esoteric rituals complex enough to rip someone’s soul from their body.
These tokens are also the sole form of currency in the prison, they can buy everything from commissary snacks to literal free passes from guards.
The economy has created a cut throat society, the heads of the cults not even taking advantage of being able to be free, but simply reveling in the power of being psychotic and enabled.
The weak are enslaved, their lives traded on the off chance at tokens.
So, of course, braindead asshole that I am, I signed myself right up. Feeling a little more confidant after climbing Mount Bozo.
It's 8pm and the volunteers are rounded up and brought to a massive room that has all the trappings of a gymnasium, but the scale is large enough easily hold the focus of tonight’s events.
In tiered bleachers all around us, our fellow prisoners cheer and scream. The smell of thousands of unwashed, men is overpowering, the din of excitement is deafening.
But my attention is focussed on the small, single floor home, sitting out of place in the middle of the polished wood floor.
What I wouldn’t give for Demi to appear right now, give me the low down on all the supernatural bullshit that is heading my way. But the longer we stayed in the mountain the less and less the most useful voice in my head could, or would, make an appearance.
I study each of my fellow volunteers, the goal seems simple, last the longest in the home. Men enter and leave within minutes. They come out looking shaken, with minor lacerations, and a general sense of shell shock.
By the time my turn arrives, I think I know what I’m in for.
I’m wrong.
As the baby blue door closes behind me, nothing immediately in the home causes me concern. The fixtures and furniture is a bit out of date, the lighting is, not inviting, and there is a general fog of gloom hanging around.
I smile, I’ve felt this before. Granted I had Demi feeding me supernatural errata at the time, but, I’m positive I can wing it.
“So, I think I may have met one of you guys before. Back in New York, a Happy-Face corner store, anyone you know?
Scary dude, took a couple of pieces out of me.
But this, it’s more like an MMA fight, right? I tap out when you start kicking my ass? “ I stretch, trying to see if I’m getting any kind of reaction.
I inventory the objects around me, last time everything that wasn’t nailed down, shifted, changed and tried to take me apart.
You may have noticed by now, I love using the phrase ‘ last time’, and that’s because up until this moment, I haven’t learned a fucking thing here.
Mike’s first rule of paranormal survival, last time means nothing.
“It’s you” the voice is young, late teens, and male.
I spin, expecting violence, then, wishing violence.
I know the young man, not this pale, older, revenant with a self inflicted gunshot wound, but I know him none the less.
I’m not being metaphorical when I say my heart misses a beat, I almost fall over, pounding at my chest to stop it’s arythmatic pounding.
I knew what happened to him, found it out long after I could do anything about it. And wasn’t in the best of places when I did.
I’ll call him a ghost for simplicity sake, but this kid, he’s my first, and biggest mistake.
I based who I turned into on finding what I thought was one of the worst people on earth. This kid’s father.
I did things to him worthy of what I knew he did. And to top it all off, I had him die by his wife’s hand.
Well, a decade later I find out, the guy wasn’t a Saint, but he didn’t do anything worthy of the twisted shit I put him through.
I got wind of some false information put out there in a moment of rage by a tech savvy ten year old. The kid never intended it to see the light of day
“I found out about you Mike, I saw that you were a hero. “ The voice is thin echoes like a stuck record.
“No kid, don’t think that. “ I mumble, I’m shaking, the air is freezing, each breath comes out as white mist.
I’m sitting on the flower printed couch now, and it hits me.
I’d assumed because Art couldn’t screw around in my head last time, the same went for everything here.
Remember what we said about last time.
“My told me what happened one night, what I made you do.
I destroyed her memory of him, I made a real Hero kill him, I couldn’t keep hurting people. “ I can see images, flashing in my mind, memories that are not mine.
I’m counting seconds, trying to focus, trying to stay long enough to get the token. It has to have been fifteen, twenty minutes at least.
I try to work up a smirk, to convince myself that I’m just being played by the paranormal equivalent of a heckler.
That’s not it though, This place, this house, is reaching inside me and finding places to look. As I stare into the young man’s rotted eyes I know this is some part of him, torn away from whatever rest he was entitled to.
The lights dim, then turn off. The house is silent.
Hollywood gets being both a lunatic and a hitman wrong in equal measure. No matter how much morality you want to inject into the profession, there are going to come times when you make mistakes.
As the lights slowly turn to a dull orange glow, I’m surrounded by the hovering, mutilated forms of mine.
Those that died that could have been spared, those that died because of my inaction, or stupidity. I’ve never forgotten them, I use them to make sure I never make the same mistakes again, but having them looming, screaming, all demanding I hear their stories, their accusations, their placations.
It's too much, I stumble from the couch, trying to avoid the icy touch of these phantoms. For a moment I find some last scrap of courage, I close my eyes, shut out the shrieking din of the dead.
The silence hits like a truck, I focus, trying to calm my burned out nerves.
Then they are reignited like a fucking welding torch.
“This place didn’t bring us here.
We’ve been right next to you for years Mike. We can’t leave. “ The voice of my first mistake.
Like a toddler I try to run with my eyes closed, I trip over a glass coffee table, clawing my way up the door, grasping at the handle.
I can feel a slight pull now, almost magnetic, trying to drag me backwards.
My hands shake too much, I have to steady my right wrist with my left hand, the floor becomes slick, I see the door, escape start to move further away as I’m pulled backward.
I've taken a hit or two, and had a couple of three day benders that have made me piss myself. But as I stumble, trying to make progress on the nearly friction less floor, I have another unpleasant first experience.
I grab the handle, pulling myself out of the house, launching my body into a skin peeling tumble across unforgiving plank flooring.
I’m a shaking, fetal wreck, by the time I’ve pulled myself together enough to take in my surroundings, I see the red Led clock displaying my time.
42 seconds. Bottom of the barrel. The jeers and booing from the crowd do nothing for my frayed nerves or the storm of fear and anxiety going through my mind.
I’m exhausted, but I can’t sleep, it has nothing to do with the concrete slab that serves as my bed.
My stomach has been knotting and cramping, with each passing second I get more worried I blew some internal gasket in one of the many life or death struggles in the past months.
When I finally manage to vomit, the urge is strong enough I get no where near the filth crusted hole in the floor that serves as my toilet. And my worst fears are confirmed as I see the massive pile of vomit is mostly blood.
… and bones? Is that an eyeball? A piece of fur?
The mass begins to pull itself together, bits and pieces forming the most rudimentary attempt at a face.
“Junior? “ I say, stunned.

My fiancé (24M) and myself (26F) have been together for 5.5 years and recently got engaged last month. I am currently in nurse anesthesia school (CRNA) studying to obtain my doctorate degree. The program is rigorous and year-round, with the only break longer than a week being between Christmas and New Years. This makes wedding planning more difficult due to my limited schedule options. I have never been the type of girl to fantasize about my wedding, so I figured a smaller destination wedding would be a good fit where I could let the resort do most of the planning. My fiancé and I decided on either Mexico or the Dominican Republic for our wedding in a year and a half and both our parents are extremely supportive. My mom was actually pushing for a destination wedding when I was still on the fence originally.
My older sister got married a few years ago, and my parents paid around 35K for her ceremony, and she even had two separate receptions due to covid precautions. At the time, I was living in Virginia and my sisters wedding was in Missouri, so my parents paid for mine and my boyfriend’s (now fiancé) flights. At the time I had just graduated college and my boyfriend was still a college student. My mom recently told me that my parents will be paying for the room and airfare for myself and my soon to be husband, as well as her and my dad’s, my grandpa’s, and my sister and her husband’s. The thing that surprised me is when she told me that it would all come out of my wedding budget. Now don’t get me wrong, I understand mine and my fiancés expenses as well as my parents’ expenses coming out of the wedding budget, but I do not think it is fair or necessary to put my grandpa’s and my sister and her husband’s expenses on my wedding tab. Altogether, those expenses would add up to over 20K taken out of my wedding budget, leaving it at 15K for the actual wedding, reception, dress, flowers, dj, hair, makeup, etc.
I understand that a destination wedding is expensive for guests, however, with us not getting married for over a year and a half I think that is more than enough time to budget for the trip if people decide to come. I also told my mom that I would understand taking their flights out of the wedding budget, since she paid for my boyfriend’s and my flights a few years back, but my mom disagreed and said that since I chose a destination wedding, I have to realize that getting our immediate family there would be on the wedding budget tab. So please tell me, am I the asshole for complaining about the money my parents are using to pay for my wedding.

Wande Magazine: How does it feel being Kashmir’s greatest living poet? (he has died since then)

Rehman Rahi: To say this myself would not be appropriate. Whatever people may think of me, I respect it. I have only ever attempted something feeble and small. Poetry was God’s gift to me. All my life, I have campaigned for the Kashmiri language. So when people recognise my work, it obviously makes me happy. I ask myself, ‘Is this really true?’ Those who have said this about me are well-known literary figures, so one feels they must be speaking the truth (laughs).
My single-minded effort has been to raise the standard of the Kashmiri language so that it achieves a status on par with the great languages of the world in which literature is written; to bring it to the notice of the world’s great writers so that they know what’s happening with this language.
It is God's blessing that verses and poems came to me that people have appreciated. If people didn’t appreciate my poetry, they wouldn’t have translated it. A lot of my poetry has been translated and it has gotten me recognition. When I meet people at different places who show respect for me and my work, I feel I must have done something good (smiles).

Are you disappointed that Kashmiris don’t sufficiently value their poets? As a poet, what do you desire from your community?

I want readers for Kashmiri poetry. I write poetry and it gets published but then someone should read it. There should be readers of Kashmiri poetry. Only after reading it can someone make an opinion about whether it is good or bad poetry. Or whether the poet is writing in the old traditional way or the modern or whether the poet is representing his people and society in his poetry. This can only be known and understood once someone reads it.
I feel very sad that there are not many readers of the Kashmiri language. It’s terribly sad. Earlier, not many books were published in Kashmiri, till even Mehjoor’s time. In his time, sixteen-page poetry pamphlets used to be published. These were not books or collections of poems. Today, almost every day there is a new collection of poetry and it’s brought out in a very professional manner. However, there are very few readers. Those who purchase books are different. Serious readers are different. Even if you lend someone a book, it’s not expected that they would read it. The one main reason for this is that the new generation of Kashmiris—those in schools, colleges and universities (who are the future readers) don’t have much of an inclination towards the Kashmiri language. They have not been taught and trained in this language. It’s not really their fault. There is no such culture in their homes, or in our schools or in society. Kashmiri language and those who speak it are looked down upon. People feel proud to speak in Urdu and other languages even if they don't speak those well. I feel really sad. Our recognition and the recognition of the Kashmiri language should come from young people.
If there are no readers for Kashmiri poetry, what is the fun of writing poetry?
There is a small minority of people, even some youngsters who show a lot of interest in Kashmiri poetry, but their number is very small. Looking at them one gets happy. There is hope that maybe in future the number of these people would increase.
A modest movement for the Kashmiri language is underway for which some organizations like Adbi Markaz Kamraz are specially working. Many others are working towards this end. If they succeed in their efforts, more people might get interested in the Kashmiri language.

Why don't major and influential poets like you participate in Kashmir’s intellectual and political discourse?

Kashmir has no real tradition of what you call political poetry. There are bits and pieces of political poetry in Sheikh ul Alam’s work which speak about the times he lived in. Majorly, it is Sufi poetry which has dominated the Kashmiri literary landscape. Sufi poetry is metaphysical and doesn’t have much to do with the affairs of this world. This is one main reason why poets haven’t been part of the political discourse.
However, it is not entirely true that we [poets] don’t participate at all. Recently, I participated in a political rally. It’s not necessary to mention where. A leader at the rally complained that Kashmiri poets aren't part of the political discourse. In response, I read a nazm there. They were surprised to hear the nazm in which I had talked about the Kashmiri struggle at length. The nazm is called Khak e Karbala.
Since 1947 onwards, many poets in Kashmir have written about the contemporary times they were living in and about their political and social realities. A lot has been written. I have also written at length. Now when people don’t read, what can I do about it? It then seems we haven’t written anything.
Poets don’t participate in protest demonstrations and rallies. But whenever we felt it was necessary to participate, we participated without hesitation, especially for the [promotion] Kashmiri language for which we have held demonstrations for weeks altogether in Pratap Park [Lal Chowk, Srinagar]. Men and women participated in that demonstration and we sat there for a week. The result [of that demonstration] was that the Kashmiri language was introduced in primary classes at schools.
We also have to look at the peculiarities of different eras in Kashmir. Mehjoor and Azad were political poets and Dina Nath Nadim was in and out a political poet. Mehjoor and Azad are among the first poets who represented Kashmir’s political reality in their poems. Mehjoor showed the Kashmiri people their history. He showed that we [Kashmiris] are not a small people and that we possess a rich history in our cultural and political past. He offered Kashmiris their history and invoked us to rise. After 1947, there was a concerted effort to elevate the Kashmiri language through the inclusion of other genres of literature, which weren't part of the Kashmiri language before such as short stories, essays, novels and literary criticism.
In contemporary times, we have Zareef Ahmad Zareef whose entire poetry is political and many others like Amin Kamil have written at length about the politics of this place, especially after 1947 which we now call resistance poetry.
I have also tried my hand at resistance poetry. But as I said, there is only one handicap, which is that there are very few readers available. If there are readers of Kashmiri, this language will survive. If there are no readers, it will die. It is said, that every day in the world there are languages which die as there are no speakers. If the same happens with Kashmir, then what is Rehman Rahi, Dina Nath Nadim or Mehjoor?
We have also witnessed a massive change in social and political times. In the past, if you would have asked Sheikh ul Alam or Shams Faqir to write or comment on political times, they wouldn’t have been able to do it. There was no such culture in those times. They used to speak or write about an otherworldly metaphysical world.
The present times are different. The present times are very political in nature. We live in a very political world.

Are you worried about the future of the Kashmiri language and poetry?

I am worried but not sad because new writers are being born in Kashmir. We have a handful of serious readers who read Kashmiri literature and then comment and write about it. Many books have appeared critiquing and appreciating the work of poets like me. These bunch of people have realized that writing in Kashmiri is a serious affair and should be taken seriously unlike our children in schools and colleges who pay no attention and consider Kashmiri literature not worthy of their interest and attention.
If only Kashmiri people would realize how rich our language is, we will work for it day and night. The Kashmiri language has great potential. I have never been disappointed by the Kashmiri language. It’s not restrictive language. At times while writing poetry, there would be challenges such as there was no word available in Persian, Sanskrit, Urdu or even Kashmiri but such is the nature of the Kashmir language that I could make new words, which were later accepted and appreciated.
If the Kashmiri nation has to truly survive, it will only survive through the Kashmiri language. Otherwise Kashmiri nation will be a soulless nation.
Is there anyone among the younger crop of Kashmiri poets who you think holds promise?
There are many. They aren’t young poets, but they are my younger contemporaries. Rafiq Raaz is an excellent poet. There are limitations with his oeuvre, of course, but he is a genuine poet who will contribute a great deal to Kashmiri literature. There are limitations to his poetry because he gets too concerned about the technicalities and restricts himself.
I have written a verse about Rafiq Raaz in one of my books.
Rafiq Raaz chu muchraan tilismii khanan barr Sarood khan chiss sormi nazar ti khamosh hi
There is Shafi Shauq, who has been a professor at the University of Kashmir. Shad Ramzan is another fine poet. Shahnaz Rashid is another promising poet.
Shahnaz Rashid writes both ghazals and nazms. He didn’t write nazms but I encouraged him and he wrote some brilliant nazms. Ghulam Rasool Josh from Charar-e-Sharief is another excellent poet.
There are excellent poetesses as well such as Ruksana Jabeen and Naseem Shafaie. While Jabeen writes in both Kashmiri and Urdu, Shafaie writes in Kashmiri alone. Shafaie has received an award from the Sahitya Academy.
Kashmiris have produced great poetry because they have faced oppression. Sufi poetry, in fact, was a response to the deplorable conditions of our people. Today, there are only a few genuine Sufi poets in Kashmir.

How do you see the rise of BJP? What does it portend for Kashmir?

There is always a reason to worry when men of narrow thought come to power. They might think they are right in themselves, but they are not. Take Modi for instance. He is a Hindutva man and he might think Hindutva is a great philosophy. To an extent, it is fine if he or other Indians feel Hindutva gives them some historical identity and they have some sort of past to live up to. It becomes problematic when they adopt a narrow vision of politics. If we don’t accept the narrow politics of some Muslim leaders who believe that Muslims are the only great community, how can I accept Hindutva?
Another problem with the current times is the spectre of party politics and the notion that one's party should win by hook or crook. In my younger days, the youth used to look up to political parties as philosophical bastions. Youth were attracted to them mainly because the parties had some philosophical ideas to offer. I, for one, was attracted to the communist ideology and became a member of the Communist Party in Kashmir. I really thought they had something new to offer and some new ideas. Later on, I was disillusioned and today I can’t call myself a follower of Marx. However, back then, it did seem that Marx was saying something that no one before had articulated.
With the coming to power of these people, if the Kashmiri identity is attacked, I will oppose it. It should be opposed by everybody. The Kashmiri identity has some peculiar characteristics which should be protected.
We often hear of the killings in Kashmir. We hear about someone being shot on the roadside or someone being shot while buying essentials. We also hear of men entering homes and killing people. I just remembered a verse. There is a word in this couplet, “mogjaar”, which means freedom.
Parwardigar’e saane ti mogjaar mekh karam Kath poshe waare baaghe barikh boale badle bamm
Wech aasi daare lyie, ti pellet gun aechen pharrem Shah taan kruuth pyom pepper krath seene dam
Almighty, show mercy, guide us to the path of freedom Every word of this flower garden they barter with a bomb
If a window opens the breadth of an eyelid, a pellet gun robs the eye of light Pepper guns make the air bitter, metonymy, a lung pogrom
This was written last year on September 28 [2016]. I saw a picture of a young girl who had been blinded and it moved me and made me cry. There is tremendous oppression here and we must raise our voices against it. As a poet, this is my protest against it. I can’t do anything else.

Did you ever think of returning your awards when artists across India were doing so to protest curbs on artistic and intellectual freedom? If not, why?

Had I been given any awards by the government, I would have returned them. The awards I have received are from literary organisations like Sahitya Academy, Jnanpith or Kabeer Samaan. These are not awards from politicians. The awards I have received were in recognition of the Kashmiri language. Why should I return them?
When I won the Jnanpith award, journalists asked me how I felt. I told them that with this award, the Kashmiri language has moved forward. Whether I, as a poet, moved forward or not, the Kashmiri language definitely has. This [Jnanpith award] was a recognition of the Kashmiri language. Why should I reject it? How can I reject it?

Kashmir witnessed a bloody summer in 2016 and nearly a hundred people were killed and hundreds lost eyesight. But there was no word from Kashmir’s greatest living poet. What was the reason for your silence?

It is totally wrong to say that I have been silent. I have written many poems in protest, not just last year but also in the turbulent nineties. I have written many poems about the oppression in Kashmir and the resistance as well. Not just me, but many poets have been actively writing.
I will recite a poem I wrote in 1990 and you tell me whether the accusations against me hold any truth. I once recited this poem at a political rally. I told the gathering they weren’t truly aware of what was happening. I told them that they might be in politics but they didn’t know much. The poem is titled Khak-e-Karbala, or the dust of Karbala, which is used by the faithful to heal the wounds inflicted as part of marsiya during Muharram. I sent the poem to many prominent newspapers at that time but no one published it.
In my recent collection Kadla Thatis Peth (On The Pier of the Bridge), there are a few poems that expressly talk about the present political situation. It’s not my fault that people don’t read. What can I do about it?
I will now recite some lines from Khak-e-Karbala:
Agar ni saanen chokken zabaan kanh Magar yi rath gassi ni raaiygan zanh
Phezaar dyitan beshoar keatil Yi daage laanath yi yas ni challnai
Yi rath mushuk saar boambran hyund Yi rath haya mand yemburzal’an hyund
Yi rath talatum jawaan johdun Yi rath tafazul qayaam ohad’uk
Yi rath ba faize Hussain khoda joo Yi rath ba fazle khoda sorakh ruu
Yi rath chu baarav divan buuziv Shaheed qoamuk bayaan boeziv
Setha setha kaal annigaetis manz preyn gulami Lalluv bye sakh zuv zante zahar heattis manz
Setha setha kaal chaangi dod rath Na aayi kanh ath na draayi kanh wath
Zamaan woth nindri aes wathav na Cztaan chi zanjeer aes chattav na
Bedaar ehsaas prazznatte gov Choppyear Azadi hyund talab pyov
Dua mongukh aes ti gash sarrhev Chu kya lyeakith laani, pane parhev
Shurren muqabal sippah treavikh Machine gun kotran chalevikh
Su foaj koachan ti angnan manz Mahali jang zan ti bazran manz
Jawaan thod woth ti gueel siinas Buzargh broah poak ti prathh jabeenas
Aennis dopukh woth kuthen muchar barr Kaellis dopukh raam naam sathe parr
Saleem maerikh Salaam moarukh Habib moarukh Hishaam moarukh
Hu beang balai baam moarukh Yi muktidu ko imam moarukh
Yi shahar moaruk yi gaam moarukh Kasheere hund subah sham moarukh
Agar ni sannen chokken zabaan kanh Magar yi rath gassi ni raiy ganh zanh
Yi rath amanat chu Karbala huk Yi rath tas ni tehreer inqilab’uk
Zamaan hargah pricchev haqeeqat Dapyus reashe maale ker bagawat
I have recited this poem at many events in the presence of several leaders. There are five-six collections of my poetry that have poems about the political situation, and about my fundamental concern, which is of a man in this universe.

Do you think poets should remain distanced from the political life of the place they belong to or live in?

One cannot stay aloof at all. Politics is like air and it reaches everywhere. In Kashmir, if a man goes to a baker’s shop and finds that the size of the bread is not what he expected, politics over it will start. They will say "Yi ha kor hindustaanan (This is India’s handiwork)"(laughs). What happens in Kashmir on a day-to-day basis can make an artist politically conscious. But the artist or the poet doesn’t have to become a politician. He has to remain a poet. What does being a poet mean? It shouldn’t be only translating experience into verse but presenting it in such a way so that the reader sees himself/herself through that experience.
Poets can’t remain distanced from the politics of their place but they shouldn’t become victims of politics either. It’s one thing to do poetry and another to do sloganeering. Mehjoor and Azad did some bit of sloganeering, but they wrote wonderful poetry. Mehjoor’s most popular poem Wala Ha Bagwano is more of a slogan than poetry. Azad was an avowed Marxist. He used to agitate for farmers’ rights. They were great poets, and yet political.

What do you think is the role of a writer or intellectual in a place like Kashmir?

The primary role of a writer or poet is to agitate and protest through his craft alone. His role is to move the reader and to make him feel the agony. The poet doesn’t report. That is the journalist’s job. The journalist explains that this person was killed in these circumstances. The poet’s job is to depict the killing as if it happened in front of the reader, and as if the reader himself was being killed. The living reality of a poem should move the soul of the reader.
Craft and imagination is the key for writers and poets. Their craft should make the written word a living reality. The role of the poet is the creation and that is why it’s called takhleeq (creation) because what the poet sees and feels he translates (creates) onto the page.

https://wandemag.com/poets-poltics-and-rehman-rahi/

I've come across the notion that the person who initiates the date should foot the bill, but I don't necessarily agree. Going on a date is a chance for both individuals to gauge their compatibility, and the other person only agrees to go if they're interested in exploring that possibility too. It's not a one-sided favor or obligation, so I don't think there's an automatic expectation for one person to pay. However, if one person feels like they're being coerced or forced into going on the date, then it would make sense for the initiator to cover the expenses. In most other cases, though, I think it's fair for both people to pay for what they eat.

I am so discouraged and am hoping for any insight or advice. I had my symptoms under control, not gone, for about 6 weeks and I achieved this by a combination of Gabapentin, Oxybutinin, topical estrogen, a topical petroleum-based anti-biotic cream as I had abnormal amounts of Staph on my vulva, and of course staying hydrated. This was my first time in years having manageable pain.
My period was about 2 weeks late and after my period ended the other day, all hell has broken lose. My vagina is on fire, specifically the vestibule. My urethra burns, my bladder burns, my left leg and foot are burning from the nerve irritation in my vestibule. I am so upset and don’t know what to do.
There is something about my period that triggered this. Either hormones or the actual blood itself. Which do you all think? I am just lost right now.
Any advice or insight is appreciated, I can’t take this. I guess I got lucky for a while. Not anymore.

While crossing on foot and having an rx on person, coming from Turkey. Should be ok, shouldn't it?
I keep hearing horror stories about people getting arrested and thrown in jail for no reason whatsoever around here, so thought I'd ask just to be sure...
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Thanks!