How To Start Reading Again

.That Judge Judy Pussy grip insane. You be calling her Judith on the second stroke.

a story in 3 parts

We need to talk about Titus

Out of all the discussions around the Hunger Games, the one discussion I have yet to see is one around the past Tribute and "cannibal", Titus.

It strikes me as an extremely odd detail to be randomly thrown in, not only being one of the only past non-victor tributes to have a name, (and the only one that isn't from the 10th and 74th games or Maysilee Donner, who has further significance to the plot) but also having such a wild story. Titus being relegated to a one-off line is extremely confusing to me.

But what's more confusing is how he's treated, both in-universe by other tributes, and irl by readers/fans. And I think Capitol Propaganda has a lot to do with it.

The little we do know about Titus is:

He was from District 6

He was anywhere from 12-18 years old

He was killed by an *avalanche*

He was "crazy" and snapped during the games

He cannibalized the hearts of the tributes he killed

Right away, this tells me that there's more to Titus than just having lost it, or even being mentally ill prior to the games, though that may have had a part. However, it's definitely not the main factor at play.

Firstly, we need to look at how the Capitol treats these literal children in the short time that they're being prepared to fight to the death. They're almost constantly in the public eye, pushed to train, and treated like commodities for the residents of the Capitol. Residents who live in opulence, compared to the poverty and struggles of the rest of the districts. District 6 especially, where Titus is from, seems to have had a rough time, what with an implied morphling problem and their focus being Transport, meaning that their tributes have absolutely no prior skills that would be useful in the games.

Combining all of these factors, and we don't have to make a leap to assume that Titus would already be under a lot of stress from the get-go.

Then, consider the Arena. This is where the avalanche comes into play. An avalanche would mean snow, which would mean that the arena was likely some sort of tundra, or at least was winter-like. From other games, it has been shown that the gamemakers will purposely make it difficult for tributes to access basic resources like water or food. If Titus had been unlucky at the cornucopia, he would be hard-pressed to find food in a snow-covered environment.

And these two factors, stress and hunger, make it pretty clear to me why Titus did what he did, and why that's so important to the rest of the story as a whole.

Titus. Was. Starving.

Desperation for food, stress from what he'd already gone through, and the fact that Titus was a child makes it pretty clear that if he "snapped", it wasn't because he was insane, it was because of the Capitol.

And the tragedy of this is that the Capitol pushed this boy to desperation, and because he lashed out at them for it (and they found his actions in desperation "unsightly"), they tazed him, they killed him, and they framed the entire situation as this "monstrous crazy person gone rogue".

The Capitol once again kept the people blind to their cruelty, but this time, they even did so to us, the reader.

The Devil's Wheel

The Devil’s Wheel

“If you say yes,” said the Devil, “a single man, somewhere in the world, will be killed on the spot. But three million dollars is nothing to sneeze at, missus.”

“What’s the catch?” You squint at him suspiciously over the red-and-black striped carnival booth. You’re smarter than he thinks you are– a devil deal always has a catch, and you’re determined to catch him before he catches you. 

“Well, the catch is that you’ll know you did it. And I’ll know, too. And the big man upstairs’ll know, I ‘spose. But what’s the chariot of salvation without a little sin to grease the wheels? You can repent from your mansion balcony, looking out at your waterfront views, sipping a bellini in your eighties. But hey, it’s up to you– take my deal or leave it.”

The Devil lights a cigar without a match, taking an inhale, and blowing out a cloud of deep, sweet-smelling tobacco laced faintly with something that reminds you of rotten eggs. If he does have horns, they’re hidden under his lemon yellow carnival barker hat. He wears a clean pinstripe suit and a red bowtie. No cloven hooves, no big pointy fork, but you know he’s the Devil without having to be told. Though he did introduce himself.

He’s been perfectly polite. 

You know you need the money. He knows it too, or he wouldn’t have brought you here, to this strange dark room, whisking you away from your new house in the suburbs as fast as a wish. Now you’re in some sort of warehouse, where all the windows seem to be blacked out– or, maybe, they simply look out into pitch darkness, though it is the middle of the day. A single white spotlight shines down on the two of you. 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” you say. “I bet the man is someone I know, right? My husband?”

“Could be,” the Devil says with a pointed grin. “That’s for the wheel to decide.”

He steps back and raises his black-gloved hand as the tarp flies off of the large veiled object behind him. The light of the carnival wheel nearly blinds you. Blinking lights line the sides. Jingling music blares over speakers you can’t see. The flickering sign above it reads:

THE DEVIL’S WHEEL

“Step right up and claim your fortune,” the Devil barks. “Spin the wheel and pay the price! Or leave now, and a man keeps his life.”

You examine the wheel. 

The gambling addict

The doting boyfriend

The escaped convict

The dog dad

The secretive sadist

“These are all the possible men I can kill?” You ask, thumbing the side of the wheel. It rolls smoothly in your hand. Then you quickly stop, realizing that this might constitute a spin under the Devil’s rules. He flashes a smile at you, watching you halt its motion. 

“Addicts, convicts, murderers– plenty of terrible options for you to land on, missus!”

“Serial wife murderer?”

“Now who would miss a fellow like that? I can guarantee that the whole world would be better off without him in it, and that’s a fact.”

The hard worker

The compulsive liar

The animal torturer

The widower

The desperate businessman

The failed musician

The beloved son

“My husband is on here too,” you say. 

“Your husband Dave, yes. The wheel has to be fair, otherwise there’s simply no stakes.”

“I know what’s gonna happen,” you say, crossing your arms. “This wheel is rigged. I’m gonna spin it around, and it’ll go through all the killers and stuff, and then it’s gonna land on my husband no matter what.”

“Why, I would never disgrace the wheel that way,” the Devil says, wounded. “I swear on my own mother’s grave– may she never escape it. In fact, take one free spin, just to test it out! This one’s on me, no death, no dollars.”

You cautiously reach up to the top of the wheel and feel its heaviness in your hand. The weight of hundreds of lives. But also, millions of dollars. You pull the wheel down and let it go.

Clackity-clackity-clackity-clackity

Round and round it goes. 

The college graduate

The hockey fan

The Eagle Scout

The cold older brother

The charming younger brother

The two-faced middle child

The perfectionist

The slob 

Your husband Dave

Clackity-clackity-clackity.

Finally, the wheel lands on a name. A title, really.

The photographer

“Hmm, tough, missus, but that’s the way of the wheel. But hey, look! Your husband is allllll the way over here,” he points with his cane to the very bottom of the wheel, all the way on the other side from where the arrow landed. “As you can see, it’s not rigged. The wheel truly is random.”

“So… there really isn’t another catch?” You ask. 

“Isn’t it enough for you to end a man’s life? You need a steeper price? If you’re really such a glutton for punishment, I’ll gladly re-negotiate the terms.”

“No, no… wait.” You examine the wheel, glancing between it and the Devil.

You really could use that three million dollars. Newly married, new house, you and your husband’s combined debt– those student loans really follow you around. He’s quite a bit older than you, and even he hasn’t paid them off yet, to the point where the whole time you were dating you watched him stress out about money. You had to have a small, budget wedding, and a small, budget honeymoon. Three million dollars could be big for the two of you. You could re-do your honeymoon and go somewhere nice, like Hawaii, instead of just taking two weeks in Atlantic City. You deserve it. 

Even so, do you really want to kill an innocent photographer? Or an innocent seasonal allergy sufferer? Or an innocent blogger? Just because you don’t know or love these people doesn’t mean that someone doesn’t. 

The cancer survivor

The bereaved

The applicant

Some of these were so vague. They could be anyone, honestly. Your neighbors, your father, your friends…

The newlywed

The ex-gifted kid

The uncle

The Badgers fan

“My husband is a Badgers fan,” you say.

“How lovely,” the Devil says. 

Then it hits you.

Of course.

The weightlifter.

The careful driver.

The manager.

The claustrophobe.

Your husband Dave lifts weights at the gym twice a month. You wouldn’t call him a pro, but he does it. He also drives like he’s got a bowl of hot soup in his lap all the time, because he’s afraid of being pulled over. He just got promoted to management at his company, and he takes the stairs to his seventh-story office because he hates how small and cramped the elevator is.

“I get your game,” you announce. “You thought you could get me, but I figured you out, jackass!” “Oh really? What is my game, pray tell?” The Devil responds, leaning against his cane.

“All these different titles– they’re all just different ways to describe the same guy. My husband isn’t one notch on the wheel, he’s every notch. No matter what I land on, Dave dies. I’m wise to your tricks!” 

The Devil cackles. 

“You’re a clever one, that’s for sure. I thought you’d never figure it out.”

“Thanks but no thanks, man,” you say with a triumphant smirk. “I’m no rube. No deal. Take me back home.”

“As you wish, missus,” the Devil says. He snaps his fingers, and you’re gone, back to your brand-new house with your new husband. “Don’t say I never tried to help anyone.”

I do appreciate people willing to be educated on creating characters who are Muslim and wanting to be respectful but there is a whole lot of nuance in Muslims and different interpretations of beliefs that people need to understand.

The main one I’ve seen a lot is “here is how to correctly have a hijabi character” and it’s usually a headscarf covering all of the hair and modest, which is good, this is a good representation of a Muslim, but on the flip side, there are so many different interpretations of veiling among Muslims that saying only one is correct just seeks to enforce a sort of homogeneity among Muslims that disregards our own cultural traditions all over the world. Not all of us wear hijab or veil in the same way, not all of us have the same interpretations. As much as people try to understand that Islam is a religion, there are many who treat being Muslim as if its the equivalent of an ethnicity.

Not to say veiling is exclusively Islamic either, plenty of cultures and religions other than Islam veil/practice modesty, what I’m mainly trying to say is that different cultures have different cultural traditions surrounding modesty/veiling/hijab within Islam. In different cultures around the world there are also different terms for the type of hijab/veil they wear as well. Hijab will look different wherever you are looking, and the type of hijab style your character might wear may pertain to which culture they may come from. It’s important to keep this in mind while also being aware of inter-communal nuance.

(This is coming from a Muslim from cultures where people did not used to veil as many deem ‘acceptable’ now)

Just for example: both of these women are Muslim, they both wear a scarf, and neither is more Muslim than the other bc one has visible hair. Nobody has the right to determine who is a better Muslim or not for how they chose to cover, and I don’t think folks who aren’t Muslim should be upholding this kind of belief either, even if their intentions are in the right place.

This is also not to say “hey just slap a scarf on ur Muslim character bam it’s a hijab” when a lot of the posts about creating characters who are Muslims, especially hijabis, came from a place of people not understanding the hijab or it’s intention, it also comes from a fear of portraying more modest/religious Muslims which is rooted in Islamophobia - since the hijabi on the left would probably be better liked by audiences who aren’t Muslim bc some of her hair is shown (*cough* Netflix *cough*). So, there is a lot of nuance here.

Ofc not everyone is going to agree with this and there is plenty, and i mean plenty, of contested sources and voices about this all throughout the Muslim community, this is my opinion because quite frankly I’m tired of this belittling of different type of veiling because it doesn’t fit people’s view of hijab (from both Muslims and those who aren’t).

two (2) people asked how i did the matchbook thing so take this

this is just a simple idea but if you spend some more time you can get real krazy with it:

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I hope everyone’s 2016 is off to a great start so far. I thought I’d treat my readers and make this year’s first post a new free design reso

I'm so happy Ryan Coogler hired Yvonne Chireau as his Hoodoo consultant for "Sinners'. That man really respects our roots. Yvonne don't play about Black American culture and our connections to spirit and Africa. Her books and lectures are always on point

Dutch longsword fencer Tosca Beuming

Photographed by Martin Philippo and Andress Kools