#humanhood

[spectrumpulse]

[gastricotv]

The Weather Station | Neon Signs

[beyond-mogai-pride-flags]

Abinary Mann Pride Flag

Abinary Mann: An abinary folk referring to emself as a man as one else would call an object or animal by mealexical terms by default; an abinary folk using intrapersonally man for emself in the sense of being human/experiencing mankind.

The abinary golden is more darkened to intermediate red and yellow colors. Mann colours switched to be more visually pleasing. -Ap

[realityhop]

"But the True Self is a guiding idea, not an actuality.  The actual processes that constitute the self have ideals and goals, and they strive to bring the person’s actions into line with these aspirations.”

— Roy F. Baumeister, The Self Explained (2021)

"Deutsch questioned whether ... a direct identification of ego ideal with the self is actually only achieved by saints, geniuses, and psychotics. ... the problem is not that people pretend that they are whom they would like to be, but that they are constantly guessing whom they would like to be and which of their images might be socially desirable."

— Renata Salecl, A Passion for Ignorance (2020)

"We are obliged by the deepest drives of the human spirit to make ourselves more than animated dust."

— E.O. Wilson quoted in Loneliness (2008)

"for Lacan identification with images and signifiers coming from the Other is inevitable, because there is no original identity whatsoever.  Hence the fact that every identification is an alienation.  Lacan quotes T.S. Eliot: “We are the hollow men/We are the stuffed men/Leaning together/Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!”"

— Paul Verhaeghe, "Lacans answer to alienation: separation" (2019)

"Borrowing a term from statisticians in the U.K., the Pepe-loving betas on /r9k/ soon began calling themselves “NEETs” (Not in Education, Employment, or Training), paring down complex social and psychological problems into a simple economic one.  They viewed their own self-worth in terms of their economic status, or rather, their lack of it. [...] Having been raised on the internet, they weren’t looking for a way to dissolve their identity in the acid of conceptual theory.  Drifting in nihilism, they were groping for a concrete value system that defined their place in society and offered them guidance on how they could be accepted and regarded as men."

— Dale Beran, It Came From Something Awful: How a Toxic Troll Army Accidentally Memed Donald Trump into Office (2019)

"’You play ball like a girl!’ ... You can call a guy: that's my dog, he's a cool cat, hit's like a truck, he's got pipes.  You can refer to a guy as an inanimate object, or an animal and it's a complement.  But you compare us to our sisters and it's the ultimate insult.  That's the foundation of misogyny."

— Don McPherson, “The Blind Spot of Masculinity”

"Use the power of memory as an incentive — not as a bludgeon.  But remind people that when we are at our best, we don’t build statues to people who tear down, we build statues to people who create."

— Jon Meacham, C-Span (Jan. 6 2022) 32:32

"Very few, said the poet, live by choice.  Every man is placed in his present condition by causes which acted without his foresight, and with which he did not always willingly co-operate…" — Samuel Johnson quoted in Feline Philosophy

“An irrational faith in the future is encrypted into contemporary life, and a shift to realism may be a utopian ideal.” — Black Mass (2007)

— John N. Gray

"If we seem to be idealists and are overestimating , overrating man we promote him to what he really can be. ... So we have to be idealists in a way because then we wind up as the true, the real realists. ... ‘If we take man as he is we make him worse, but if we take man as he should be, we make him capable of becoming what he can be.’"

— Viktor Frankl, "on Why Idealists Are Real Realists” (1972)

[teaonsoup]

The only people who should have the choice about abortions should be ONLY those with a reproductive system that holds another life.

[chapters-of-enthusiasm]

This week; I've made the time to appreciate arts, and I feel refreshed and inspired. Arts are good for the soul. This week; I've enjoyed reading Sorry by Gail Jones. I've enjoyed Fringe Festival's WA Youth Poetry Showcase @ YMCA HQ. I've enjoyed @roslyn_nolen_artist's equine artistry. & Freo Press's Big Book Read. I've also watched some Netflix, gotta have some Nflix&chill. #Artsimproveslives #writingmatters Chapter: Art Appreciation #chapterartappreciation #artappreciation #humanhood #humanity #thearts #Australia #Australianculture #AussieMum #selfcare #selfinvestment #investinArts #investinculture Signed, The one doing a school photo smile

[dumbfunshit]

Humanhood by The Weather Station on Apple Music

Album · 2025 · 13 Songs

[sinceileftyoublog]

The Weather Station Album Review: Humanhood

(Fat Possum)

BY JORDAN MAINZER

In a time of great existential crisis, often fueled by human-caused climate catastrophe, Tamara Lindeman makes a case for the very imperfect beings who are to blame. The one-two punch of 2021's Ignorance and 2022's stark How Is It That I Should Look at the Stars cemented her long-running project The Weather Station as one of the preeminent socially conscious indie rock bands of its time. Lindeman had always been outspoken about her climate change-fueled anxiety, but a large indie label, a more expansive sound, and arguably the best songs of her career brought her a wider audience for her messages and expressions. She even became the go-to interviewee within indie rock for think pieces on climate change and music. Yet, thrust further into the spotlight, behind a grueling tour schedule, with global warming and natural disasters raging on, Lindeman felt less connected than ever to this long-time activism and entered a deep depression. It's that disconnect--between mind and body, heart and head--that informs The Weather Station's seventh studio album Humanhood.

Lindeman posits on Humanhood that it's a lack of sync, a malfunctioning sense of self unlike automated technology, robots, or artificial intelligence that's, paradoxically, human. Weighing our contributions to the world, dividing them into levels of intentionality, can be downright dizzying. "Why can't I get off this floor? Think straight anymore?" Lindeman asks on "Neon Signs". The first proper song on Humanhood, its meandering structure mirrors her state of mind. Foregoing verse-chorus-verse pop for ascending and descending Americana, Lindeman alternates between singing and speaking over an ambling combination of bass, piano, and drums. Eventually, the tune unassumingly dissolves into a drone of keys and reed instruments. Indeed, it perfectly encapsulates Humanhood's aesthetic, buoyed by a core band consisting of Ignorance's rhythm section (drummer Kieran Adams, percussionist Philippe Melanson, and bassist Ben Whiteley) plus Karen Ng and Ben Boye. Together they conjure forebears of wintry experimentalism: The choppy electronics that introduce "Mirror" could find home on a Califone album, while the looped grooves and rubbery hydrasynth of "Irreversible Damage" recall early aughts Radiohead. Humanhood's touchstones balance familiar warmth with crippling isolation, the very push-pull that occupies Lindeman's mind throughout it.

Just as effective as the songs that curve and zigzag, however, are those that make a beeline to Lindeman's disposition. "Window" starts immediately, and in contrast to the sonic abstractions of the previous songs and calmness of Lindeman's voice, it feels like you're being dropped into a panic attack of whooshing, repeated synths, fluttering reeds, and overwhelmingly mammoth drums. The title track, meanwhile, is a Latin jazz-influenced slice of realism; as much as Lindeman wants to buy into the healing power of nature, she can't help but pay attention to the chaos around her at the beach. "It's a hot day, shitty, there's weeds in the breakers / There's kids throwing tantrums and circling teenagers," she sings, Ng's swirling saxophone and Sam Amidon's banjo prickling like unwelcome thorns. Humanhood's instrumental introductions and interludes, too, sometimes offer more precision than Lindeman's words, from the piano, reeds, and drums mish-mosh of "Descent" to Boye's scraggly "Passage".

Album closer "Sewing" brings all of Lindeman's ideas together. She may be tired, her wincing delivery barely registering above flowery piano and a pattering drum groove. But she knows every waking moment, great and terrible, is a part of living. Lindeman compares building a perspective on life to sewing and is careful to toss in every color of thread. "Sometimes I get hit by a shattering pain," she sings, "I won't try to forget--I'm going to include it." Ultimately, her recognition of her own hurt--her own humanhood--allows her to interact with the world anew. "I'm taking pictures of the sky again," she admits. "I don't know why--I guess I wanted to." For at least a moment, she doesn't have to ask questions and can just be.