Tuesday, December 31, 2019

Ue o Muite Arukou by Kyuu Sakamoto †Sukiyaki Song

Listening or singing a song is a great way to learn a language. With a melody, it is easier to mimic words and sing along even you dont understand the meaning. Here is a great song called, Ue o Muite Arukou by Kyuu Sakamoto released in 1961. The title, Ue o Muite Arukou translates into, I look up when I walk. However, it is known as Sukiyaki in the United States. The title Sukiyaki was chosen because it is easier to pronounce for Americans, and it is a word that they associate with Japan. Sukiyaki is a kind of Japanese stew and has nothing to do with the song. The song topped the pop charts for three weeks in 1963. It is the only Japanese language song to hit #1 in the US. It sold over 13 million copies internationally. According to recent news, the British singer, Susan Boyle, will be covering the song as a bonus track for the Japanese version of her third album. Tragically, Sakamoto was killed when Japan Airlines Flight 123 crashed in 1985. He was 43 years old. All 15 crew and 505 out of 509 passengers died, for a total of 520 deaths and only 4 survivors. It remains the worst single airline disaster in history. Japanese Lyrics Ue o muite arukou ä ¸Å Ã£â€šâ€™Ã¥ â€˜Ã£ â€žÃ£  ¦Ã¦ ­ ©Ã£ â€œÃ£ â€ Namida ga koborenai youni æ ¶â„¢Ã£ Å'㠁“㠁 ¼Ã£â€šÅ'㠁 ªÃ£ â€žÃ£â€šË†Ã£ â€ Ã£  «Omoidasu haru no hi æ€ Ã£ â€žÃ¥â€¡ ºÃ£ â„¢ æ˜ ¥Ã£  ®Ã¦â€" ¥Hitoribocchi no yoru ä ¸â‚¬Ã¤ º ºÃ£  ¼Ã£  £Ã£  ¡Ã£  ®Ã¥ ¤Å" Ue o mute aurkou ä ¸Å Ã£â€šâ€™Ã¥ â€˜Ã£ â€žÃ£  ¦Ã¦ ­ ©Ã£ â€œÃ£ â€ Nijinda hoshi o kazoete 㠁 «Ã£ ËœÃ£â€šâ€œÃ£   Ã¦ËœÅ¸Ã£â€šâ€™Ã¦â€¢ °Ã£ Ë†Ã£  ¦Omoidasu natsu no hi æ€ Ã£ â€žÃ¥â€¡ ºÃ£ â„¢ Ã¥ ¤ Ã£  ®Ã¦â€" ¥Hitoribocchi no yoru ä ¸â‚¬Ã¤ º ºÃ£  ¼Ã£  £Ã£  ¡Ã£  ®Ã¥ ¤Å" Shiawase wa kumo no ue ni Ã¥ ¹ ¸Ã£ â€ºÃ£  ¯ é› ²Ã£  ®Ã¤ ¸Å Ã£  «Shiawase wa sora no ue ni Ã¥ ¹ ¸Ã£ â€ºÃ£  ¯ ç © ºÃ£  ®Ã¤ ¸Å Ã£  « Ue o muite arukou ä ¸Å Ã£â€šâ€™Ã¥ â€˜Ã£ â€žÃ£  ¦Ã¦ ­ ©Ã£ â€œÃ£ â€ Namida ga koborenai youni æ ¶â„¢Ã£ Å'㠁“㠁 ¼Ã£â€šÅ'㠁 ªÃ£ â€žÃ£â€šË†Ã£ â€ Ã£  «Nakinagara aruku æ ³ £Ã£  Ã£  ªÃ£ Å'ら æ ­ ©Ã£  Hitoribocchi no yoru ä ¸â‚¬Ã¤ º ºÃ£  ¼Ã£  £Ã£  ¡Ã£  ®Ã¥ ¤Å"(Whistling) Omoidasu aki no hi æ€ Ã£ â€žÃ¥â€¡ ºÃ£ â„¢ ç §â€¹Ã£  ®Ã¦â€" ¥Hitoribocchi no yoru ä ¸â‚¬Ã¤ º ºÃ£  ¼Ã£  £Ã£  ¡Ã£  ®Ã¥ ¤Å" Kanashimi wa hoshi no kage ni æ‚ ²Ã£ â€"㠁 ¿Ã£  ¯Ã¦ËœÅ¸Ã£  ®Ã¥ ½ ±Ã£  «Kanashimi wa tsuki no kage ni æ‚ ²Ã£ â€"㠁 ¿Ã£  ¯Ã¦Å"ˆã  ®Ã¥ ½ ±Ã£  « Ue o muite arukou ä ¸Å Ã£â€šâ€™Ã¥ â€˜Ã£ â€žÃ£  ¦Ã¦ ­ ©Ã£ â€œÃ£ â€ Namida ga koborenai youni æ ¶â„¢Ã£ Å'㠁“㠁 ¼Ã£â€šÅ'㠁 ªÃ£ â€žÃ£â€šË†Ã£ â€ Ã£  «Nakinagara aruku æ ³ £Ã£  Ã£  ªÃ£ Å'ら æ ­ ©Ã£  Hitoribocchi no yoru ä ¸â‚¬Ã¤ º ºÃ£  ¼Ã£  £Ã£  ¡Ã£  ®Ã¥ ¤Å"(Whistling) Here is the translation of the Japanese lyrics. The English version of Sukiyaki recorded by A Taste of Honey doesnt have a literal translation. English Version I look up when I walkSo that the tears wont fallRemembering those spring daysBut I am all alone tonight I look up when I walkCounting the stars with tearful eyesRemembering those summer daysBut I am all alone tonight Happiness lies beyond the cloudsHappiness lies above the sky I look up when I walkSo that the tears wont fallThough the tears well up as I walkFor tonight I am all alone(Whistling) Remembering those autumn daysBut I am all alone tonight Sadness lies in the shadow of the starsSadness lurks in the shadow of the moon I look up as I walkSo that the tears wont fallThough the tears well up as I walkFor tonight I am all alone(Whistling) Grammar Notes Muite is te-form of the verb muku (to face). The te-form is used to connect two or more verbs. In this sentence, the verbs muku and aruku are connected.Arukou is volitional form of the verb, aruku (to walk).Koborenai is the negative form of the verb, koboreru (to fall, to drop) ~ youni. ~ youni means, in order that ~. Nai youni means, in order not to ~. Here are some examples.Gakkou ni okurenai youni hayaku okiru. Ã¥ ­ ¦Ã¦   ¡Ã£  «Ã© â€¦Ã£â€šÅ'㠁 ªÃ£ â€žÃ£â€šË†Ã£ â€ Ã£  «Ã¦â€" ©Ã£  Ã¨ µ ·Ã£  Ã£â€šâ€¹Ã£â‚¬â€š--- I get up early so that Im not late for school.Kaze o hikanai youni ki o tsuketeiru. 㠁‹ã Å"を㠁 ²Ã£ â€¹Ã£  ªÃ£ â€žÃ£â€šË†Ã£ â€ Ã£  «Ã¦ °â€"を㠁 ¤Ã£ â€˜Ã£  ¦Ã£ â€žÃ£â€šâ€¹Ã£â‚¬â€š--- Im taking care of myself so that I dont catch a cold.Nijinda is informal perfective ending for the verb, nijimu (to blot, to blur). It modifies the noun, hoshi (star). It means with teary eyes the stars looked blurry.~ nagara of nakinagara  indicates that two actions are taking place simultaneously. Here are some examples.Terebi o minagara, asagohan o taberu. ãÆ'†ãÆ' ¬Ã£Æ'“ã‚’è ¦â€¹Ã£  ªÃ£ Å'ら〠Ã¦Å" Ã£ â€Ã£  ¯Ã£â€šâ€œÃ£â€šâ€™Ã© £Å¸Ã£  ¹Ã£â€šâ€¹Ã£â‚¬â€š--- I watch television while I eat breakfast.Ongaku o kikinagara, benkyou suru. éŸ ³Ã¦ ¥ ½Ã£â€šâ€™Ã¨ Å¾Ã£  Ã£  ªÃ£ Å'ら〠Ã¥â€¹â€°Ã¥ ¼ ·Ã£ â„¢Ã£â€šâ€¹Ã£â‚¬â€š--- I listen to music while I study.

Monday, December 23, 2019

The Nature of Online Communities Essay - 1449 Words

The Nature of Online Communities What brings people together on the internet? Is it the desire to find a friend and a community or is it the other extreme of finding someone to argue with and release all the anger that has built up inside? Do people not like who they are in real life and find the internet as a place to have a new identity, the person that they have always wanted to be? Or, is it what Rheingold states in his article â€Å"The Virtual Community,† â€Å"virtual communities treat them as they always wanted to be treated – as thinkers and transmitters of ideas and feeling beings, not carnal vessels with a certain appearance and way of walking and talking† (95)? Maybe it is one of these things or a combination of many†¦show more content†¦The members of this community have the opportunity to meet and chat, if they so desire, through MSN instant messenger. After searching through the â€Å"Who’s Who† board and the member profiles, I discovered that a majority of the members are adults, mostly in their thirties or forties. A majority of the members are females, but there are a few male chocolate and coffee lovers sprinkled throughout the bunch. Ironically though, these adults have filled the general post board full of games to play. Rarely are there any personal stories or â€Å"serious† posts on the board. Most of them consist of â€Å"let’s post cool quotes that we’ve found,† â€Å"post pictures of cute animals† (Animal GIFs 10-6-02), or the most interesting one, â€Å"type a message in wingdings font and decipher that and write a new message in response in wingdings† (The Wingdings Game 10-6-02). (Wingdings is the font that is purely characters and not real letters.) Out of approximately fifty members, only ten people post daily on this site and communicate with each o ther on a regular basis. I did observe one serious post when one of the women had a personal crisis and posted on her experiences. She instantly received a tremendous amount of support from a majority of the members. Her virtual community was there to offer encouragement and love in her times of trials. This community is full of love, laughter, and good times. Their language is extremelyShow MoreRelatedThe Internet And Its Effect On Society1371 Words   |  6 Pagesopportunity for people to produce, consume and share creative content. This culture of online production and consumption is bound to copyright and fair use laws. While these laws have the capacity to protect an individual’s ownership of intellectual property and creative content, they are not conducive to a vibrant culture of creativity. 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Sunday, December 15, 2019

Succubus Heat CHAPTER 6 Free Essays

string(60) " seemed like I couldn’t get far enough away from him\." It was dark by now, so I headed straight for my car and drove over to the vampires’ apartment in Capitol Hill. Well, technically it was Peter’s apartment. Cody was his apprentice and lived there by Peter’s good graces, so long as he adhered to Peter’s neurotic cleaning standards. We will write a custom essay sample on Succubus Heat CHAPTER 6 or any similar topic only for you Order Now â€Å"Georgina,† said Cody happily, opening the door for me. The lingering yellow bruise of a black eye showed on his face. â€Å"Wow,† I said, shocked enough by his appearance to let go of the Seth-rage that had consumed me the whole drive over. â€Å"It’s true. You really did get in a fight.† â€Å"Oh, yeah,† he said cheerfully. â€Å"It was great. Totally West Side Story .† I stepped inside and glanced around. â€Å"You also finally changed the carpet.† They used to have velvety plush carpet stretching throughout the living room in ivory. This new stuff was a blue-gray Berber. Peter stepped out from the kitchen and arched an eyebrow at me. I could smell pork chops and rosemary cooking. â€Å"Yeah, well, after three months of trying to scrub off that wine you spilled, I finally gave up.† â€Å"That was an accident,† I reminded him. â€Å"Kind of.† My final showdown with Niphon had involved me punching him and throwing him around. Peter’s china cabinet and a full wineglass had been the casualties. I looked away from the corner where our fight had taken place. My heart had been raw and bleeding that day, fresh from the break-up with Seth. â€Å"This is Scotchgarded,† continued Peter. There was a challenge in his voice, like he was daring me to spill something on it now. I settled myself on the couch, in the same way they often made themselves comfortable at my place without asking. I started to take out my cigarettes, but one look from Peter made me put them away with a sigh. Sometimes he allowed smoking but apparently not around new carpet. â€Å"So what happened last night?† I asked. â€Å"Maude, Lenny, and Paul came hunting in the city,† explained Peter. There was an uncharacteristic anger in his eyes, rivaled only by the time he’d found out the color he’d used to paint his kitchen had been discontinued. â€Å"And then Elsa went over to the eastside, which pissed off Aidan.† I wasn’t up to date on all the vampires in Washington, but I recognized most of the names and knew their territories-they were from far-out areas like Spokane and Yakima. Seattle would be a huge step up for them-except for the fact that Peter and Cody already controlled most of the city limits. My friends were laconic and mild most of the time, but I suspected I would have seen a whole other side to them last night when they discovered others in their hunting grounds. â€Å"Three in your turf,† I mused. â€Å"I bet that was fun.† â€Å"Oh yeah,† said Cody, face still aglow. â€Å"They’re not going to come trolling around here anymore. We kicked their asses like you wouldn’t believe. It was awesome.† I couldn’t help a smile. â€Å"Your first fight?† He nodded, and I glanced at Peter. â€Å"No marks on you.† Peter looked offended. â€Å"Of course not. Do I look like an amateur?† â€Å"Hey!† said Cody. â€Å"What are you saying about me?† Peter shrugged and returned to the kitchen, saying, â€Å"Just telling it like it is. I’ve been around a lot longer than you. Been in a lot more fights than you too. And I wasn’t the one who got a black eye last night.† Cody looked like he might start a fight then and there, so I hastily asked, â€Å"And nobody knows how the mistake was made?† â€Å"I heard it was Cedric,† called Peter. â€Å"And that you’ve been cozying up with him.† â€Å"Hardly. I just met him yesterday.† Cody was apparently out of the loop. â€Å"What?† â€Å"Georgina was sent to Canadian Boot Camp for sleeping with the therapist,† explained Peter. â€Å"Seriously?† asked Cody. I could already tell he was envisioning images of pine trees and snow-capped mountains. I shrugged. â€Å"Figure of speech. It’s some stupid job I have to do for him. I was there earlier today and got sent home empty-handed because there was nothing for me to do.† â€Å"I can’t believe you’d do that,† said Cody. â€Å"Work for Cedric?† â€Å"No. Go to Canada and not bring us back Tim Hortons.† The vampires invited me to stay for dinner, as I’d known they would, and we mulled over the mystery of last night’s fight and other demonic politics. For the first time in a very long while, I had something to distract me other than Seth and the woes of my love life. There was nothing going on that really indicated some large, disastrous immortal scheme at work. A misunderstanding among vampires. A troublesome cult. An old grudge between demons. Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else going on-something just beyond my reach. I kept thinking of what Tawny had said about scams and misdirection. I eventually gave up on trying to figure out the mystery for now, and the vampires soon started replaying every last detail of the previous night’s fight-a topic they never seemed to tire of. The stories bored me after a while, and I instead found myself studying little things, like the layout of the apartment, the new appliances, the granite countertops†¦ â€Å"Do you think I should move?† I asked abruptly. Cody stopped mid-sentence. I think he’d been describing how he’d had Lenny the vampire in a chokehold. â€Å"What?† he asked. â€Å"I’m thinking of getting a new place.† â€Å"Were you even listening to my story?† asked Cody, looking slightly hurt. â€Å"You’ve lived over there for years,† said Peter. â€Å"As long as I’ve known you.† â€Å"I know. Maybe it’s time for a change. It’s small, and it’s old.† â€Å"That’s because it’s a historic building,† argued Peter. â€Å"And,† added Cody, â€Å"it’s close to where you work. You’d have to drive in if you moved-unless you’re just going up the street or something.† My eyes focused on the far side of the room without really seeing it. I remembered talking to Seth the other night and how it had seemed like I couldn’t get far enough away from him. You read "Succubus Heat CHAPTER 6" in category "Essay examples" I thought about our fight earlier tonight. â€Å"No,† I told them quietly. â€Å"I’d move somewhere else. Somewhere farther out.† â€Å"Ah,† said Peter in understanding. Cody frowned. â€Å"I don’t get it. Why would you want to move far away from your-ow!† Peter had kneed him. Cody started to demand why, but then he seemed to catch on too. He was na;ve about immortal affairs, sometimes, but not human ones. His face turned sympathetic, which I hated. â€Å"Maybe change is good.† I didn’t know if it was, but I didn’t want them to sit and feel sorry for me, so I coaxed more fight stories from them for the next half-hour or so as a way to distract them and make amends for not paying attention earlier. I left shortly thereafter, wondering about whether it really was time to shake things up a little and move. Seth had already shaken my life up for the worse, and part of me wanted to rid myself of all those memories. Changing everything that I’d had while we’d been together-like my apartment-could be a way to do it. A clean cut. If I was really desperate, I could even consider switching jobs or cities. I didn’t know if I was ready to go that far. It all depressed me. â€Å"Hey, succubus. You sure know how to keep a guy waiting.† I’d been walking up to my building without really paying attention, too lost in my own thoughts. Now, in the faint glow of the light above the building’s entrance, I saw Dante sitting on the steps. His black hair was brushed away from his face, and he wore a light coat over his usual attire of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. He probably had a watch on under there too but almost never wore any other ornamentation or jewelry. I mustered a smile for him. â€Å"Sorry,† I said. â€Å"I called you earlier.† â€Å"And I called you back.† â€Å"Did you?† I pulled out my cell phone and saw three missed calls from him. â€Å"Oh, shit. I had the ringer off. Sorry.† He shrugged and stood up. â€Å"It’s okay, just part of the endless torment I go through for you. One mysterious message saying you’re going to Vancouver indefinitely. Another saying you’re back but don’t know for how long. Then no answer.† I realized I hadn’t even thought much about how this international travel would affect Dante. That kind of radio silence would have never happened with Seth. I wouldn’t have rested until we’d made contact and would have quickly noticed the ringer problem. With Dante, I’d left the voice-mail message and promptly put him out of my mind. I gave him a quick kiss on the lips and unlocked the door. His face was scratchy and overdue for a shave. â€Å"Sorry,† I said again. â€Å"How’s it been going?† â€Å"Same as it always does. Had a couple of drunk teens come in for palm readings last night, so that was a windfall. I could have taken you out someplace nice for a change.† â€Å"It would have beat what I was doing instead.† As we went upstairs to my apartment, I briefly gave him an overview of what was going on. As someone attuned to the paranormal world, there was little about demonic affairs that surprised him. I’d met Dante back in December, during the mess with Niphon. As part of his plan, Niphon had used a chaos entity named Nyx to suck energy from me in my sleep via realistic, emotionally charged dreams. Not knowing what was happening, I’d come to Dante for dream interpretation. He’d been abrasive, sarcastic, and infuriating throughout the entire process yet had steadily grown on me-until I learned the truth about his past. He’d done horrible things-hurt people, killed people, betrayed his own principles-in the name of selfish desires and a quest for power. Those atrocities had left him with an empty soul and bitter self-loathing. I’d loathed him too and swore I was done with him. Then, things had fallen apart with Seth and me. My world had been torn apart, and I found myself with an empty soul and bitter self-loathing of my own. Seth had inspired me to believe in better things in the world, but all that hope had disappeared with our love. Dante’s bleak, cynical outlook seemed more realistic now and more in line with my own worldview. He and I had hooked up, eerily compatible in our mutual despair. I didn’t love him, but I liked him. I poured us glasses of Grey Goose once we were inside. I preferred gimlets but didn’t feel like going to the trouble of finding my lime juice. We settled on my couch with our drinks and cigarettes, and I finished up the story of my Canadian misadventures. â€Å"Wow,† he said when I was done. â€Å"All that because you fucked your therapist?† Unlike Seth, who hadn’t liked knowing details about my succubus sex life, Dante took it all in stride. I shrugged. â€Å"Well, I had nothing to do with the vampire gang war last night. But yeah, the rest is on me, I guess. You think they’re related?† He swirled his vodka around. â€Å"If you don’t think Cedric did it, then probably not. The vampire thing is likely a coincidence. But that Portland demon was right. You probably are being played.† There was almost a growl to his words, uncharacteristically protective. I groaned. â€Å"But how? Everyone keeps saying that, yet I only got involved twenty-four-hours ago. How am I being manipulated in some huge affair in so short a time?† â€Å"Because you’ve walked into something that’s been going on for a while. It’s not built around you per se, but now you’re in it.† I leaned back against the couch and stared bleakly at the ceiling. â€Å"I should have never slept with Dr. Davies.† â€Å"Was he good?† â€Å"Are you jealous?† â€Å"Nah. Just trying to figure out what turns you on.† â€Å"Scathing wit, if present company’s any indication.† â€Å"Somehow, I’m not convinced that’s the allure. Besides, are you saying you’re turned on right now?† I was still staring at the ceiling. There were some fine cracks in the paint I hadn’t noticed before. â€Å"Do you think I should move?† â€Å"What, closer to me?† â€Å"No, as in out. Into a new place.† â€Å"What’s wrong with this one? You have a great place. At least you don’t live where you work.† Dante’s bedroom was attached to his store. I leaned forward and looked at him with a smile. â€Å"I might as well live where I work. I don’t know. I feel like it’s time for a change.† His gray eyes were thoughtful as he regarded me. â€Å"You’ve told me about this-how you get an itch for change and suddenly end up transforming your identity and moving to a different country.† Reaching out, I gently brushed some of his black hair out of his face and tucked it behind his ears. â€Å"I’ve only been here for fifteen years. It’s way too soon to leave.† â€Å"So you say. Today you talk about a new apartment, tomorrow you could disappear. For all I know, maybe you’re scoping out new employment opportunities in Vancouver.† I laughed and knocked back the rest of my vodka. â€Å"No, definitely not. Although, I think Cedric would be easier to work for than Jerome. Or at least a little less annoying.† â€Å"Even in Canada?† â€Å"Canada’s not that bad. Vancouver’s actually a pretty cool city. But don’t tell anyone I said that.† Dante set his glass down and reached into his shirt pocket. â€Å"Maybe I can bribe you to stick around. Or at least be on time.† A flash of gold caught my eye as he lifted out a watch. It was delicate, almost looking more like a bracelet than a true watch. It had gold links for a band, and its face had a filigree pattern that glittered in the light. I often found watches boring and utilitarian, but this was beautiful. He handed it to me, and I held it up to get a better look. I could shape-shift any jewelry I wanted onto me, but something manmade-something given as a gift-always had more meaning. â€Å"Where did you get this?† I asked. â€Å"Did you steal it?† He scoffed. â€Å"Figures. I do something nice, and you have to question it.† â€Å"Sorry,† I said, feeling a tiny bit bad. That had been pretty ungrateful of me. â€Å"But you can’t tell me this is part of your normal budget, not with the business you get.† â€Å"I told you, I had a good streak last night. And since you weren’t around for a night on the town, I figured I’d show you my undying affection some other way. Now, are you going to say thank you, or are you going to keep bitching me out?† â€Å"Thank you,† I said. I fastened the watch onto my wrist and admired the way it looked against my tanned skin. â€Å"Maybe you’ll be easier to find now-or at least be on time.† I grinned. â€Å"Oh, this wasn’t affection. This was pragmatism.† â€Å"Nah. A little of both. I wanted to get you jewelry, but necklaces and rings are too sappy.† He held up his own wrist. â€Å"Only thing that didn’t make me want to throw up.† â€Å"And they say there’s no romance left in this world,† I laughed. He gently reached out and touched the watch, tracing a circle around my wrist. Then, his hand trailed up my arm and along the edge of my blouse’s V-neck, letting him slip his fingers underneath it. Slowly, carefully, he moved over to one of my breasts, his fingertips dancing around the edges of my nipple, which already stood up hard under the thin fabric. He circled the nipple, pressure increasing, until he finally pinched it between his fingers, squeezing it so unexpectedly hard that I gave a small gasp of surprise. â€Å"Whoa, you don’t waste any time,† I said. â€Å"You give a gift, and thirty seconds later, it’s a free-for-all?† His eyes were hungry and intense now, reminding me of storm clouds. â€Å"I’ve missed you,† he said. â€Å"I keep thinking I’ll get used to you†¦that you’ll stop being so sexy. But it never happens.† Impromptu or not, I felt my own lust stirring. We hadn’t been together in a while, and there was a big difference between sleeping with strangers and with those you were close to. He wrapped one hand in my hair, holding it tight, not caring if it hurt me or not. Domination and power, the ability to inflict pain if he wanted, always turned him on, and I had gotten used to this game. He jerked me to him and pressed his lips against my neck as I tilted my head back. His breath was hot against my skin as his teeth grazed me. Meanwhile his hands reached out and grasped the sides of my blouse, ripping it open. A couple of buttons scattered across the floor. Heat was building between my legs, and I moved closer as his hands closed around the cups of my black satin bra. He pushed the edges of it down so that my breasts spilled over the tip, then pinched both nipples down, nails digging in. I moaned again, and while I really wasn’t into pain, I always liked the way he mingled it with pleasure. Satisfied at my reaction, he moved his hands down to his jeans and unfastened them, pulling them and his boxers down partway, revealing the erection that had been straining against the fabric. He gripped my shoulders and shoved me down to the floor, needing no words to make his wishes apparent. I didn’t hesitate. He leaned back against the couch, and I took him into my mouth, letting him fill it up and nearly touch the back of my throat. My lips slid back and forth on him as his hands tangled in my hair, pulling hard. I sucked more urgently, letting my tongue dance and tease as I moved. He’d been hard when I started, but he swelled even more as I brought him in and out of me. â€Å"Harder,† he grunted. I met his eyes, which were filled with a primal desire that exalted in putting me in such a submissive role. I sucked him harder and faster, my lips hitting his body over and over as they glided along that hard length. His breathing became heavier, his moans louder. I felt him grow in my mouth until it seemed like I couldn’t take anymore. He suddenly shifted forward to the edge of the couch, letting him thrust his hips forward and take control. Still holding my shoulders, he shoved himself into me, fucking my mouth as hard as he could. I gave a surprised muffled grunt that seemed to turn him on further. Then, with a great groan, he gave one last hard thrust and abruptly pulled out so that he came half in me and half on me. It left my skin and breasts warm and sticky. Still gasping, he pulled me up and ran his hands all over my body, uncaring of the increasing mess. His fingertip traced the edges of my lips, and I kissed it. A look of supreme satisfaction crossed his features. Still keeping me standing, he slid a hand between my thighs and up my skirt. His fingers slipped under my panties, thrusting deep within me. He exhaled with pleasure. â€Å"God, you’re wet. Kind of wish I’d fucked you now.† I kind of wished that too, but his fingers were going a long way to make up for that. I burned and ached for his touch, having grown more aroused than I’d expected to. He slid his fingers out of me, then moved them up to my clit and the center of my desire. He stroked and encircled, and I felt heat build up, ready to explode. I leaned forward, resting my hands on his shoulders where he sat. This put my breasts right in his face, and he leaned forward, sucking hard on one of them, teeth nipping at that sensitive skin. It wasn’t going to take much to make me come. He pulled his mouth and fingers back at the same time. I whimpered, wanting-needing-him to touch me again. â€Å"You want that? You want me to get you off?† His voice was soft and menacing. â€Å"Yes†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"Beg me,† he said menacingly. â€Å"Beg me to.† â€Å"Please,† I begged, my body arching back, straining to get closer to him. â€Å"Please†¦Ã¢â‚¬  His fingers and mouth returned, and like that, I exploded. The orgasm made my body spasm as I struggled to stay upright. My knees and legs were weak, but I knew if I collapsed, he wouldn’t be able to touch me anymore, and I wanted his fingers to keep stroking me as I came, bringing me to further and further heights of ecstasy. Finally, when I couldn’t take it anymore, I gave in to my trembling muscles. I sank to the ground and rested my head against his knee. His hand found my hair, stroking it gently this time. The couch made for an uncomfortable respite, so we retired to my bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. Sighing, Dante lay back against the covers and half-pulled the sheet over him. I hadn’t taken up much energy from him, but he still wore the exhausted, blissfully lethargic look of so many men after sex. I didn’t feel particularly wiped out, and upon realizing I’d left my cigarettes in the other room, I promptly climbed out of bed to retrieve them. â€Å"I almost believed it this time,† he said when I reached the doorway. â€Å"Hmm?† I asked, pausing and glancing back. â€Å"That you were into it,† he explained. â€Å"I almost believed you were.† I narrowed my eyes. â€Å"Are you accusing me of faking?† â€Å"No, you never fake. But that doesn’t mean you’re always into it either. Sometimes I get the feeling you sleep with me simply because you’ve got nothing else better to do.† â€Å"That’s not true,† I said. â€Å"There are plenty of guys better than you.† He crooked me a smile. â€Å"But none who are as convenient or who can provide the illusion of a regular partner and bed warmer.† â€Å"Man, you sure do know how to ruin the afterglow.† â€Å"Nah, I’m just being realistic, that’s all. I don’t mind you using me.† His joking aside, I could see the underlying affection. Bitter and cynical he might be, but the look he gave me was filled with sincere caring. I rolled my eyes. â€Å"I’m not using you.† But as I walked off to the living room, I wasn’t sure if I believed that myself. How to cite Succubus Heat CHAPTER 6, Essay examples

Saturday, December 7, 2019

Defining a Tragedy Essay Example For Students

Defining a Tragedy Essay Greek philosopher Aristotle proposes components of an ideal tragedy in his work, Tragedy and the Emotions of Pity and Fear. According to Aristotle, there are six components of a great tragedy: plot, character, thought, verbal expression, song, and visual adornment. He dissects these components in great detail and provides standards for all of them. In his play Bacchae, Euripides resembles much of Aristotles components of an ideal tragedy. Euripides has only few deviations from the Aristotelian tragedy.To Aristotle, a tragedy is defined as an imitation of action and life, not of an imitation of men. Therefore, he places higher emphasis the role of plot in a tragedy, rather than the role of character. He describes the species and components of a plot in great detail. For completeness, a plot must have a beginning, middle, and an end. A plot should be structured so that every part is necessary for completeness. The elements of a plot are peripety, recognition, and pathos. Peripety is a change in fortune, recognition is a change from ignorance to knowledge, and pathos is a destructive or painful act.Furthermore, Aristotle states that a tragedy is not merely an imitation of actions, but of events inspiring fear and pity. Such an effect is best produced when events are surprising yet at the same time, they logically follow one another. A well-constructed plot should, therefore, not have a change of fortune from bad to good, but, on the other hand, from good to bad. A good plot should leave an audience feeling pity and fear. To produce this effect, actions must happen between those who are near or dear to one another. For example, a brother killing a father leaves a more impressionable feeling than an enemy killing an enemy does. Although Aristotle feels that a good tragedy arouses solemn emotion, an audience should not be left in a state of depression. Both the characters and the audience should end with a purging of emotional catastrophe, known as a catharsis. The aspects of Aristotles ideal plot are well represented in Euripides Bacchae. The play begins with Dionysus prologue describing his birth to mortal Semele and immortal Zeus and his journey from Asia to Greece. He reveals that he has come to Thebes to gain recognition and worship as the god of nature, ecstasy, creation, and destruction because his aunts deny him and what he stands for. To prove his immortality, he forces all Theban women to wander in madness under trees. Dionysus attempts to spread a cult of his followers in the city of Thebes. The king of Thebes, Pentheus, disapproves of the Bacchic rites and tries to suppress the cult. A change of fortune occurs when Pentheus cannot resist the spell of Dionysus and thus he succumbs to the gods power. The play ends with Pentheus savagely destroyed in his failure to suppress the cult. The city of Thebes remains under the spell of Dionysus. The audience is left to feel pity and fear because Pentheus own mother takes part in his killing. This play reflects Aristotles ideal tragedy in that the change in fortune went from good to bad. Euripides uses the literary device of a deus ex machine in Dionysus final appearance. The term deus ex machina refers to a divine intervention to resolve a dramatic dilemma. Dionysus reveals himself as a god and explains his punishment for his disbelievers. The audience experiences a catharsis by realizing that civilization should make room for natural human urges toward ecstasy and joy. If they do not, those urges will sicken and destroy us from within. In respect to character, Aristotle defines a tragic hero as one who must have high status but must also be noble and virtuous. However, though the tragic hero is highly distinguished, he is not perfect. .ud6f39029168d1edcf693846ad4370d6d , .ud6f39029168d1edcf693846ad4370d6d .postImageUrl , .ud6f39029168d1edcf693846ad4370d6d .centered-text-area { min-height: 80px; position: relative; } .ud6f39029168d1edcf693846ad4370d6d , .ud6f39029168d1edcf693846ad4370d6d:hover , .ud6f39029168d1edcf693846ad4370d6d:visited , .ud6f39029168d1edcf693846ad4370d6d:active { border:0!important; } .ud6f39029168d1edcf693846ad4370d6d .clearfix:after { content: ""; display: table; clear: both; } .ud6f39029168d1edcf693846ad4370d6d { display: block; transition: background-color 250ms; webkit-transition: background-color 250ms; width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #95A5A6; } .ud6f39029168d1edcf693846ad4370d6d:active , .ud6f39029168d1edcf693846ad4370d6d:hover { opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #2C3E50; } .ud6f39029168d1edcf693846ad4370d6d .centered-text-area { width: 100%; position: relative ; } .ud6f39029168d1edcf693846ad4370d6d .ctaText { border-bottom: 0 solid #fff; color: #2980B9; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0; padding: 0; text-decoration: underline; } .ud6f39029168d1edcf693846ad4370d6d .postTitle { color: #FFFFFF; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; margin: 0; padding: 0; width: 100%; } .ud6f39029168d1edcf693846ad4370d6d .ctaButton { background-color: #7F8C8D!important; color: #2980B9; border: none; border-radius: 3px; box-shadow: none; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px; moz-border-radius: 3px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-shadow: none; width: 80px; min-height: 80px; background: url(https://artscolumbia.org/wp-content/plugins/intelly-related-posts/assets/images/simple-arrow.png)no-repeat; position: absolute; right: 0; top: 0; } .ud6f39029168d1edcf693846ad4370d6d:hover .ctaButton { background-color: #34495E!important; } .ud6f39029168d1edcf693846ad4370d6d .centered-text { display: table; height: 80px; padding-left : 18px; top: 0; } .ud6f39029168d1edcf693846ad4370d6d .ud6f39029168d1edcf693846ad4370d6d-content { display: table-cell; margin: 0; padding: 0; padding-right: 108px; position: relative; vertical-align: middle; width: 100%; } .ud6f39029168d1edcf693846ad4370d6d:after { content: ""; display: block; clear: both; } READ: A woman's journey: The significance of the uphill road Essay His imperfection is called the tragic flaw. The tragic hero suffers misfortune brought about by some error or frailty, not because of wickedness or cruelty. In the Bacchae, Pentheus fulfills Aristotles necessary qualities of a tragic hero. His demise is caused by his tragic flaws of excessive pride and overconfidence. He rejects the Bacchic rites because he is too proud to follow the cult and