The fact that they are trying to shut down these house shows is absolutely sickening. Not only has every house show I’ve been to in Athens been completely welcoming - but never in my 3 years on campus has a show ended up in turmoil. And by commercial venue - you mean collecting donations for bands for gas money? It’s something that is customary at any concert [whether it’s a door price, or the band selling merch, some have even gone as far as having a donation jar at merch tables]. Never, ever, has anyone been frowned upon or turned away for not donating.
The people who are complaining about this are 110% bored - and WOULD wait until a time where the majority students were off campus to bring this “issue” up.
Also - they may want to pay a little more attention to frat/house parties. I sure there is some high statistic for rape, abuse, and fights being harbored there.
1. Do NOT publicise proxy IP’s over twitter, and especially not using the #iranelection hashtag. If you are creating new proxies for the Iranian bloggers, DM them to @stopAhmadi or @iran09 and they will distribute them discretely to bloggers in Iran.
2. Hashtags, the only two legitimate hashtags being used by bloggers in Iran are #iranelection and #gr88, other hashtag ideas run the risk of diluting the conversation.
3. Keep you bull$hit filter up! Security forces are now setting up twitter accounts to spread disinformation by posing as Iranian protesters. Please don’t retweet impetuosly, try to confirm information with reliable sources before retweeting. The legitimate sources are not hard to find and follow.
4. Help cover the bloggers: change your twitter settings so that your location is TEHRAN and your time zone is GMT +3.30. Security forces are hunting for bloggers using location and timezone searches. If we all become ‘Iranians’ it becomes much harder to find them.
5. Don’t blow their cover! If you discover a genuine source, please don’t publicise their name or location on a website. These bloggers are in REAL danger. Spread the word discretely through your own networks but don’t signpost them to the security forces. People are dying there, for real, please keep that in mind…
We knew the pain of winter wind rushing up your skirt, and the ache of keeping your knees together in class, and how drab and infuriating it was to jump rope while the boys played baseball. We could never understand why the girls cared so much about being mature, or why they felt compelled to compliment each other, but sometimes, after one of us had read a long portion of the diary out loud, we had to fight back the urge to hug one another or to tell each other how pretty we were. We felt the imprisonment of being a girl, the way it made your mind active and dreamy, and how you ended up knowing which colors went together. We knew that girls were our twins, that we all existed in space like animals with identical skins, and that they knew everything about us though we couldn’t fathom them at all. We knew, finally, that the girls were really women in disguise, that they understood love and even death, and that our job was merely to create the noise that seemed to fascinate them.— The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides
(Eugenides is an amazing writer. Check out Middlesex for other such awesomeness.)
“She felt a total displacement, like a spinning globe brought to a sudden halt by the light touch of a finger. How did she end up here, like this? How could there have been so much—so many moments, so many people & things, so many razors & pillows, timepieces & subtle coffins—without her being aware? How did her life live itself without her?”—Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer. (via oneshouldreadeverything)
“It could be perfect & beautiful, & funny, & artfully sad, as you say. I do not think that there are any limits to how excellent we could make life seem.”—Alex in Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer. (via oneshouldreadeverything)
Every girl there is wearing a vintage dress. I didn’t even know there were that many vintage dresses on this earth. Some girls have flowers in their hair. Some wear old cowboy boots. But I don’t think these girls have ever been on a farm. How extraordinarily whimsical they all are! They are accompanied by many gentlemen with amusing facial hair—“pedophile mustaches” is another accurate term. They are like thousands of little pixies or baby birds, and when the queen of the baby bird pixies takes the stage, a buzz fills the theater as if everyone had just ironically filled their mouths with Pop Rocks.
“[She] keeps her own life a secret from herself. She repeats things until they are true, or until she can’t tell whether they are true or not. She has become an expert at confusing what is with what was with what should be with what could be. She avoids mirrors, & lifts a powerful telescope to find herself. She aims it into the sky, & can see, or so she thinks, past the blue, past the black, even past the stars, & back into a different black, & a different blue—an arc that begins with her eye & ends with a narrow house.”—Everything is Illuminated (Jonathan Safran Foer). (via oneshouldreadeverything)
“But more than that, no unloving words were ever spoken, & everything was held up as another small piece of proof that it can be this way, it doesn’t have to be that way; if there is no love in the world, we will make a new world, & we will give it heavy walls, & we will furnish it with soft red interiors, from the inside out, & give it a knocker that resonates like a diamond falling to a jeweler’s felt so that we should never hear it. Love me, because love doesn’t exist, & I have tried everything that does.”—Everything is Illuminated (Jonathan Safran Foer). (via oneshouldreadeverything)