The Pseudonymous Captain
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The Pseudonymous Captain
Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.
—César A. Cruz
Shoot! I've been spotted!
- Pseudonymous 🦊💝
A pseudonym is a fictitious name used to conceal someone’s real name. The word pseudonym literally means “false name” and comes from the Greek word pseudonymous meaning “heaving a false name” or “under a false name.” Most of your favorite authors, actors, and musicians are probably pseudonyms. Some just use nicknames or just put their initials, some change their whole names to create personas. A pseudonym can also be called a pen name for writers or a stage name or screen name for actors and musicians. Fictional characters have pseudo names as well. Some people can change their name for criminal activity too. Groups of people can be considered a pseudonym when they have a collective group name: this mainly happens in the music industry. Many creators do this to keep their personal life and work life separate. Like I mentioned some can create personas as a way of separating themselves from what people know them for. For example, Chappell Roan’s real name is Kayleigh Amstutz but prefers to be called Chappell when people talk about her as a way to keep her work life separate and maybe it gives a piece of mind knowing that people aren’t talking about her real self a bit. That’s why some people change their name so when the public talks about them it’s mostly about their persona not them even though it’s still them. I believe it’s a mind over matter kind of thing.
Ghosts
(Rowan B. Nicholson)
I had the sudden urge to hold my breath, driving past the new housing development
Like the way some people do with cemeteries.
Mom always said it was because you had to be careful
Not to inhale someone else's soul
And I always wondered what the range was on that
How far do you have to get from a cemetery before you're no longer in danger of accidentally coming home carrying something that is not yours?
How long do you have between seeing the cemetery and remembering to hold your breath?
Or is it the other way around
Is there a bubble of time where you're vulnerable
Can they see you before you see them
Could a crafty soul
a quick, enterprising soul
slip its way in between your breaths
before you ever get a chance to defend yourself?
It was different, though,
with the housing development.
There were no crafty souls here,
no quick, enterprising souls flitting around the top of the fence.
I held my breath as I passed by the housing development,
pressed my lips together like a gate,
not to keep any spare souls from coming home with me
but to ensure that mine made it out in one piece.
Elements of Being
(Rowan B. Nicholson)
Science recognizes one hundred and eighteen elements:
hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron, carbon,
and so on and so forth
all the way down
to livermorium, tennessine, oganesson.
I find it much less daunting
to stick to the original four—
earth, air, fire, water—
The universe is already so vast
endless
boundless
why do we feel the need to define every
little
thing?
On bad days, I pretend that I grew out of the ground.
I root myself into the earth
with my big square hands
and my strong round feet
and hold on with my teeth and my nails
like a dandelion with no head,
insistent upon growing here
right
here
in
this
spot.
On good days, I pretend that I am made out of a cloud.
I package myself up in silks
and point my toes
and paint my face in my own mockery,
and float down the sidewalk
on high-heeled skis
glowing pink and yellow
strawberry lemon.
On very bad days,
I remind myself over and over and over and over
that I am made out of fire
a rose out of my own ashes.
On very good days,
I pretend that I am made out of water
poured momentarily into a vessel
frozen into one shape
but only for right now—
tomorrow I can
and will
be something entirely different.
On days that are not good
but that are also not that bad
I am made out of some elusive fifth element
some impossible Option C
that is just fluid enough to know that it wants to escape
out of every pore.
On those days I am made out of stardust.
(Yes, I know, we are all made out of stardust all the time,
which also says something about what I am
all the time
but you can’t always feel it, you know?)
Some days, I can feel it.
Some days, I feel it filling me
prickling at the edges of my skin
fizzling behind my eyes
and I guess there’s a spectrum there
between stardust and just
dust—
but even dust is never just dust.
Dust is, itself, somewhere between the states of matter;
it’s made of solids
but moves like a liquid:
astronomers draw no line between gas and dust.
Those same astronomers say that stardust—
like the physical dust that eventually forms stars,
cosmic dust—
tastes like raspberries
and smells like rum,
and maybe that’s just what I’m made out of some days,
a nebulous cloud of raspberries and rum
and dust.
Elementally
fundamentally
ineffable
unexplainable
unlikely
inevitable.
g***** b**** a*** d****
(Louisa Spencer)
he will press on your mouth with his mouth
and on your hips with his hips
and on your thighs with his thighs
and everywhere else with his hands
his hands
his hands
all at once
and you will feel the pressure of his body on yours
his body
on yours
your body
pressure
press
and of his mind worming its way in
through your ears
sotto voce
and it’s just for you
because you’re special
because you’re something special
because you’re something
something else
something he wants
wants
wants
he wants you
don’t you want that?
nobody wan—
he wants you.
and there will be a promise
and you won’t know when you made it
but you will know that you’ll keep it
they’ll talk if you talk
so you keep your mouth shut
until he opens it with his tongue
and even then you’re not talking
not talking
are you
don’t you
won’t you
you won’t
he will tell you that he loves you
and you will know
you will know
you will know it isn’t the truth
but we hear what we want to hear
especially when it wants us to hear it too
repetition is good for the memory
repetition is good for the memory
repetition is good
thanks for the memories
will you remember me?
do you remember me?
he will take advantage
of every opportunity
to take advantage of you
but you’re convinced it’s doing you some good
experience is doing you some good
this is doing you some good
learning is doing you some good
he’s doing you some good
escapism is doing you some good
you’re good
he said it’s good for you
good for you to grow up
grow up
grow up
little girl
grow up
climb up
lift up
wake up
stay down
kneel down
lie down
reach down
look down
hair in your face
look down
look up
look ahead
i want you to
i want you
he says
look up
like you’re topless and showing your breasts to the world
he says
like that
i like that
he will whisper secrets in your ear.
they won’t be his secrets
they will belong to everybody else you know
and then they will belong to you
and you will keep coming back to buy more
like exchanging currency at the airport
before leaving the country
and you won’t question where he bought his
or what he bought them with
or what he buys with them
sometime it will be too far
and you will say something
say anything
lie to him
lie to me
was it a lie?
who decides?
he’s not on top of you anymore
you’re not sleeping
that’s good
that’s something
you can move on
you can stand up
and you won’t say a thing
and he will move on