Break through the Crying Sunset
Essay
I’ve been debating myself whether three duplications of the same content would help my readers to get my motivation for doing such a triple redundancy. Probably not. If anything which may actively drive immediate attitudes of your readership toward this publication, that would be possibly a confusion. Skip it, therefore, or skip thus them. Either the middle one or the first two. The third one only suffices for you to grasp what is going on, there in Crying Sunset, my early oeuvre, which can be described as a masterpiece marking my public début as a writer. This self-claim requires some notes, however. See below:
Early oeuvre: Because its original email submission to The New York Times was 12/31/2016, that was eight years ago.
Public début: was not either in the end of 2016 nor the beginning of 2017. The evidence was only in NYT op-ed’s hands regarding a fact that how many people might have possibly glanced at my submission of Crying Sunset around that time. And those people, if not bot eliminators, can be called public? Probably not, except that there might have been multiple people who might have read my oeuvre, which means more than glancing at it. But, that cannot be understand as an exposure to public, but should be merely an internal circulation, **if ** Crying Sunset was internally tossed up and down in NYT. In consideration of this,
Public début of Crying Sunset: was more properly said to be the date of my Facebook post when I published its duplication on 12/15/2020, four years after my email submission of the piece to NYT. This is the block quote #1 below.
Block quote #3: is very confusing if tried to sort out the content by the five different dates remarked on. The reason for the possible dismay (… dismay !! …) was due to my posting style as preferable.
5/21/21: The date of my first note with which I (re)posted my public début of Crying Sunset (on 12/15/20).
Exact submission time to NYT: sam. 31 déc. 2016 21:46 À opinion: My original email submission date and exact time of Crying Sunset to NYT.
Submission to The New Yorker 3/9/2018: My email submission of Crying Sunset to The New Yorker. (With this, I might have made a submission breach, for all submissions must be newly written ones according to their notice. I interpreted that should be okay in my case because there had been no exposure to public for Crying Sunset. At that point of the timeline, only readers of my oeuvre could have been the NYT elimination bots (as code reader,) or few humans who were internally working in the NYT division, or hackers.
10/25 & 10/24/2021: are two dates for two notes added to the note-post including the repost of Crying Sunset I initially made on 5/21/2021.
Those things has confused me too while writing this so far. Because I did not want to change the original Facebook post in which I made the first note, it appears to shuffle the time. The future dates with future notes are found in the post marked in the past, how come? No trick, there is. I simply chose not to change the original date when added the notes later. Also, I’m still a basic user of Facebook as unpaid subscriber to Meta’s services. No much of fancy options for editing for me.
Those are conscientious remarks in my part. Yet, those notes added can raise questions. To be honest, I myself need a time for introverted reflections. I’ll continue despite a temptation to conclude this publication here at this point for today, which gave me a modest satisfaction after having vertically aligned three reposts, one from my email, two from my Facebook archive. In case you’re wondering, I’m still talking about the block quote #3.
No, I don’t want to insert big and bold typed #1, #2, #3 or other visual effects to make the divisions. Follow the asterisks, no chart.
**
(note: my Substack page for me to write on, is entering the top list for hackers’ target among all of my online accounts of all kinds. #1 and #2 are actually the above mentioned email and Facebook of mine. Juliette Masch Writes is now pushing into #3 position. Even earlier today, a group inserted a disgusting fake image of my figure or face, combined an altered photo and cartoon, into this page to energize my progressive neighbors. I have no idea how and why the woman et al, who are Freaky (Snapping Turtle), franco-anglophone team, astroturfing crowds for the general election, altogether can elude all things to continue their acts onto me. Which means, before I make my writing be viewed by public on my Substack, some people could get free access to my page even with alterations).
(photo taken by myself - Old Orchard Beach, ME - digitally modified color)
****************
[from my Facebook archive] [ original date of the post - 12/15/2020 ]
"Crying Sunset"
electronically submitted as opinion piece to NYT op-ed on 12/31/2016: Submission to The New Yorker 3/9/2018
I don't know how it began. It just started. There were guys coming from somewhere, a big group with cells, then, we all got free smart phones, plus free internet access as a herd. No one thought or cared about it, 'cause it's all free. Yah, we always got a system before that. That one we got just used to it. Someone's picked on, then we moved onto the next one every three months. That's it.
When the Jap girl with the husband came in town, they got a tail of her. We heard about a kind of FBI business or something, stuck on her for years. We don't think about it, 'cause the girl looked Okay. Brothers in our area said the state wanted to chase her down, but the people said "no"*, 'cause the people saw the girl and the husband at stores or wherever, they were normal and Okay. So, we got a talk about mess-up computer things in the government or something, about it, no one wants to take responsibilities, we guessed.
Then, the girl started bicycling and swimming and cutting woods in the yard and raking and snow shoveling and that kind of thing alone. The neighbor kids liked the girl. We didn't think much about it. For us, it was just like "Yah? So? It's Okay" thing. I don't know who were unhappy about and why, but when a cellphone quiz suddenly popped out with money, a lot of things changed. The first one was like "Guess! How old is she?" [Then], you should choose [for money to win] one from 25, 35, 45, 55, 65 years old or something. If you hit a right one, you get the reward. I didn't like it, or didn't care much about it, but they were driving around everywhere and talking to people, saying "Have a* fun!" all the time. Kids loved all the quizzes about the girl. Yah, kids like anything.
Then, you know, there're some people started helping the girl underground like the people fighting against Nazi in WWII or something. Then, one day, my auntie suddenly fetched her old Buick and drove with me to Cleveland like a maniac on I-90. She wanted to do something and meet someone. But, we got stuck around the town of Port Clinton where she wanted to see the lake. She got a call at AAA, then, a guy came to drag her Buick to his workshop with the auntie and me in the back seats behind him. He drove along the lake. There was a huge sunset. All the sky was like orange and red. No one spoke. My auntie was quietly crying. Then, you know what? I was like suddenly realized I was crying too.
Then, the AAA guy was driving like a stoic, with two crying adults behind him, toward the huge sunset over the lake, you know what, like he tried to break through the crying sunset.
copyright reserved by [ my name ]
*********************************
[original email submission to NYT opinion]
sam. 31 déc. 2016 21:46 [ Dec 31, 2016 at 9:46pm ]
À opinion
I really don't know how it began. It just started. There were guys coming from somewhere, a big group with cells, then, we got free smart phones, plus internet access as a herd. No one thought or cared about it, 'cause it's all free. Yah, we always got a system before that. That one we got just used to it. Someone's picked on, then, we move onto the next one every three months. That's it.
When the Jap girl with the husband came in town, they got a tail of her. We heard about a kind of FBI business or something, stuck on her for years. We didn't think about it, 'cause the girl looked Okay. Brothers in our area said the state wanted to chase her down, but the people said "no", 'cause the people saw the girl and husband at stores or wherever, they were normal and Okay. So, we got a talk about mess-up computer things in the government or something, about it, no one wants to take responsibilities, we guessed.
Then, the girl started bicycling and swimming and cutting woods in the yard and raking and snow shoveling and that kind of thing alone. The neighbor kids liked the girl. We didn't think much about it. For us, it was just like "Yah? So? It's Okay" thing. I don't know who were unhappy about that and why, but when a cell phone quiz suddenly popped out with money, a lot of things changed. The first one was like "Guess! How old is she?", then, you should choose one from 25, 35, 45, 55, 60 years old or something. If you hit the right one, you get a reward. I didn't like if, or didn't care much about it, but they were driving around everywhere and talking to people, saying "Have a fun!" all the time. Kids loved all the quizzes about the girl. Yah, kids like anything.
People like my auntie, then, started to say "Leave her alone", 'cause they started harassing the girl in town or anywhere. You know, there're people not rich, but have good hearts. Then, we got a lot confused like crazy when that confession thing came from the church, then, all the videos and blogs of the girl came out. Those were like insane. Then, all the news of the girl about her crimes in the past and abortions and lesbian and surgeries and cannibalism and whatever came out one after another. They were also like crazy saying around all the time "Have a fun!" to every one. I was really sick of it, and my auntie was crying for the girl, 'cause that's not normal, even though our town's never been normal.
Then, you know, there're some people started helping the girl underground like the people fighting against Nazi in WWII or something. Then, one day, my auntie suddenly fetched her old Buick and drove with me to Cleveland like a maniac on I-90. She wanted to do something and meet someone. But, we got stuck around the town of Port Clinton where she wanted to see the lake. She got a call at AAA, then, a guy came to drag her Buick to his workshop with the auntie and me in the back seats behind him. He drove along the lake. There was a huge sunset. All the sky was like orange and red. No one spoke. My auntie was quietly crying. Then, you know what? I was like suddenly realized I was crying too. Then, the AAA guy was driving like a stoic, with two crying adults behind him, toward the huge sunset over the lake, you know what, like he tried to break through the crying sunset.
Juliette Masch (desired display name)
[ my name, address in Massachusetts and mobile phone number ]
*****************************************************
[ from my Facebook archive ]
*(New note on Crying Sunset : [ orignal date of the post: 21 mai 2021 (5/21/2021) ]
LESBIAN, ABORTION : Both are not criminally nor morally controversial in a liberal society in general today except as extreme causal cases or events in an inadequacy understood to be very unusual according to a consensus even by very modern standards of today.
BEHOLD: The matter differs drastically in its reception and collectif judgments by people. The US are a big nation consisting of states which are not united by the political stance of each.
WHERE AM I HEADING? : To a locative point on an autonomy to point at.
WHAT'S THE POINT HERE? : Greedy people need an assurance for their spiritual investments would not be in vain. Most concretely, they want to see God punishes those who do/did not invest in the same way that they do/did. If no obvious punishments, visible, as cruel as anciens cited, why not we punish them by ourselves, then, let us thank to God for the punishment we made would arrive as a supremely good idea. This is not insult nor mockery to anyone, in my part. I am speaking of a discrepancy between Divine Truth and *civic* perverseness.
End of the new note 10/25/2021 )
Note as of 10/24/2021:
The restored original is found below. I am not sure how long and since when, but one whole paragraph had been missing.
(Repetition of *a* fun carries a meaning. So, no change. Slight words change may be made here on my Facebook post, however later)
"Crying Sunset"
electronically submitted as opinion piece to NYT op-ed on 12/31/2016: Submission to The New Yorker 3/9/2018
Exact submission time to NYT:
sam. 31 déc. 2016 21:46
À opinion
****
CRYING SUNSET
I really don't know how it began. It just started. There were guys coming from somewhere, a big group with cells, then, we got free smart phones, plus internet access as a herd. No one thought or cared about it, 'cause it's all free. Yah, we always got a system before that. That one we got just used to it. Someone's picked on, then, we move onto the next one every three months. That's it.
When the Jap girl with the husband came in town, they got a tail of her. We heard about a kind of FBI business or something, stuck on her for years. We didn't think about it, 'cause the girl looked Okay. Brothers in our area said the state wanted to chase her down, but the people said "no", 'cause the people saw the girl and husband at stores or wherever, they were normal and Okay. So, we got a talk about mess-up computer things in the government or something, about it, no one wants to take responsibilities, we guessed.
Then, the girl started bicycling and swimming and cutting woods in the yard and raking and snow shoveling and that kind of thing alone. The neighbor kids liked the girl. We didn't think much about it. For us, it was just like "Yah? So? It's Okay" thing. I don't know who were unhappy about that and why, but when a cell phone quiz suddenly popped out with money, a lot of things changed. The first one was like "Guess! How old is she?", then, you should choose one from 25, 35, 45, 55, 60 years old or something. If you hit the right one, you get a reward. I didn't like if, or didn't care much about it, but they were driving around everywhere and talking to people, saying "Have a fun!" all the time. Kids loved all the quizzes about the girl. Yah, kids like anything.
People like my auntie, then, started to say "Leave her alone", 'cause they started harassing the girl in town or anywhere. You know, there're people not rich, but have good hearts. Then, we got a lot confused like crazy when that confession thing came from the church, then, all the videos and blogs of the girl came out. Those were like insane. Then, all the news of the girl about her crimes in the past and abortions and lesbian and surgeries and cannibalism and whatever came out one after another. They were also like crazy saying around all the time "Have a fun!" to every one. I was really sick of it, and my auntie was crying for the girl, 'cause that's not normal, even though our town's never been normal.
Then, you know, there're some people started helping the girl underground like the people fighting against Nazi in WWII or something. Then, one day, my auntie suddenly fetched her old Buick and drove with me to Cleveland like a maniac on I-90. She wanted to do something and meet someone. But, we got stuck around the town of Port Clinton where she wanted to see the lake. She got a call at AAA, then, a guy came to drag her Buick to his workshop with the auntie and me in the back seats behind him. He drove along the lake. There was a huge sunset. All the sky was like orange and red. No one spoke. My auntie was quietly crying. Then, you know what? I was like suddenly realized I was crying too. Then, the AAA guy was driving like a stoic, with two crying adults behind him, toward the huge sunset over the lake, you know what, like he tried to break through the crying sunset.
Juliette Masch (desired display name)
[ my name ]
copyright reserved by [ my name ]
*****************************************************
I have a proposal to make. Let us now dwell on the notes on 5/21/21, 10/24/21, & 10/25/21. That should make us proceed with certain projectory of ease and comfort. I can be methodical, while being not at all in other times. Crying Sunset is a writing done straight either on my tablet or PC. My recollection is in this case on PC. The uncertainty in my memory is due to the date, oh, date, that was eight years ago originally, I told you. It was a quick writing to be true as usual for me. Especially that one, Crying Sunset, was a beat piece, colloquial, based on my sum-up experiences of living in the US for decades as just go.
In Crying Sunset, as you see, the intersections of themes are on multi-woven fabrics: community policing, voluntarily made with or without precinct nets or congressional district powers; paid online opinion makers; paid filed opinion influencers, dispatched to talk with locals in streets, grocery stores, public places, while local settlements such as living space, job (usually in retail stores of big national companies) are provided by their sponsors. The integration of the issue which I’ve been wanting to never evade my eyes is a possible tyrannical force, which can elaborate itself to a violent horror, when a local consensus are made with no room for contestation without risk to take as being targeted in return. A model society is a communal socialism in which a politically claimed plausibility overrides due process for illegal prosecutions operable by a community in the name of interests, justice, equality, and safety, and for monetary gains from an economical game theory to practice as social experiments. Unknown and unwritten sponsors in Crying Sunset could be understood as a municipal government, or the federal government. The case can be taken as about a malfunctioned Homeland Security at a horrible degree. Crying Sunset must be read as an essay making a political case, accordingly.
Underneath lay a leak of terrorists watch list, governmental agents hiring rogues, corrupted charity entities, public money to distribute to locals by a case to be unsolvable for more budgets. It could be anyone, if not you or me, have become a shared promise since 9/11 and a few abominable homicides having occurred in the community. There must have been decent intentions in the beginning as a community policing has to be thorough, less bureaucratic, thus fast, and reliable because people know each other. However, it deteriorates quickly to get easy-money from the government when everyone shut their mouths. Worse is that it can create so-called fun, however much it is in fact and indeed sadistic pleasure and unhuman, when one can get easy-money for the reality-show game, but not on TV but it’s real, and you and me are gamers, not those selected few whom we play on, is the most important part of it.
Crying Sunset must be read as a tale of dystopian community.
*******
It will not be utterly outrageous, I hope, if I declare that my after-thoughts are accountable for what is Crying Sunset to unfold. The essay is actually in a light mode, mostly by the narrator’s speech in his style. Nevertheless, its background is not trivial at all. The narrator himself says:
*
I really don't know how it began. It just started. There were guys coming from somewhere, a big group with cells, then, we got free smart phones, plus internet access as a herd. No one thought or cared about it, 'cause it's all free. Yah, we always got a system before that. That one we got just used to it. Someone's picked on, then, we move onto the next one every three months. That's it.
*
What I did was something more than a nuance, at the same time it is a genre of esoteric writing in a new (?) kind. If a community is completely corrupted in a desperation on all levels, it cannot be continuous in a country like the US. People can live in their ways, enjoy, eat, drink, work, and so on, including children, mothers and fathers, faithful neighbors, animal lovers, hunters, shoppers, shopkeepers, drug dealers, prostitutes, teachers, law enforcement officers, congressional representatives, constructors and workers, city counselors and mayors. Bad part? that one we just used to it. That’s it. As said so.
In an implication, the immediate cause for her trouble was evidently due to bureaucratic mishandlings of human errors or vice versa, from technical or technological mishaps. No one wants to take the responsibility. How about making up more things to get more money and fun, instead of everything to be closed tight, so in this case no money? Such can be another story to explicitly write about.
How easily is one placed in Terrorists Watch List or Terror Watch List? A list does not have to be officially from the authority. We make it! By referring to the online info! Or, we can make it without reference match in the exact! Judicial procedure takes too long, why not speed up by do-it-ourselves? The collective will and willingness can move fast into confiscation of private properties by literal coercive eviction of the chosen for no obvious reasons except they are losers of the hunting game of the community.
Crying Sunset can be developed to a thread tale of locally operated socialism in a dystopia.
The most frightening part of it will be that the community as a whole is happy to believe such is an equal society of justice, fun, and easy money from gaming on their selection of those who must be punished.
*******
I’d better stop betraying my own oeuvre now. Crying Sunset has a tempo charm and fast moving, verbal beat and tentions, twisted ambiguity in an hit scaled ending of the burning sunset. It’s better with no notes nor remarks to add onto such a ouvre. I-90 runs along the lake partly and visibly, on Cleveland, Ohio most notably. The most familiar for me is the part between Boston and Chicago. I drove alone a lot there back and forth between two states, Massachusetts and Indiana. Port Clinton is a city located a bit off from I-90. Once, a tire-wheel suddenly made shriek metal sounds in Port Clinton. Which was very alarming, which was though found that the cause was a very little stone caught into the wheel. Anyway upon a call, an AAA technician came and towed the car to his own repair shop immediately. I was in the towing truck and we run along the lake. The sunset was burning. The whole sky and lake were in one color canvas. I took this gorgeously picturesque scene in Crying Sunset.
There are more reposts regarding Crying Sunset on my Facebook and probably as my short digital submissions to NYT under the pseudonym, “Ignorantia Asserciones”, or as Juliette Masch, whichever I though cannot tell now. In a post, I wrote about incredibly gorgeous sunsets I’ve ever seen in my life. Four, there were. One, in near Rome (Italy). Other, in Portland, Maine. Other, in Port Clinton, Ohio (this is the one). The earliest was in my childhood in Tokyo near the local amusement park to which my mother took me alone.
How old was I? Eight or nine. I was happy for the rare occasion on which such an enjoyment was given to me and we walked on a high raised ground, looking over a railway running down below. My mother never saw the land of America. She was once in Hawaii for my wedding. That’s all. Would my mom have liked Lake Erie if she had seen it? I wonder. She was an island girl and an island young woman, born in the island surrounded by the sea. She might have thought the Lake is austere and calm. That’s in fact what I thought when I saw the Great Lake for the first time.
It is strange and even a bit funny to imagine surely that no one hunting me like what happened in Crying Sunset can bother themselves even for a second by trying to know I have such a childhood. They have certainly zero interest in my mother’s life. Yeah, we don’t think about that kind of, we just used to it, what we do. That’s it. I somewhat understand. I don’t blame you. I live in the US long enough to know about.
*********
I didn’t talk much about the Midwest to my mother. Corn fields, soy fields, huge skies, extending horizons. Vantage cars people drive. Amish horse wagons and 18 wheelers on the same road. Where is the sea? She might ask. It’s the middle land, America is big, the sea is no way nearby. But, there are the Great Lakes, that’s surely very big as you know. She would have listened to me. She would.
What would my mom have said if she had learned I was chased like an animal by sadistic predators with protruded eyes for their hunter game for fun and money, and justice which they assert?
Now, I cannot know what she would say. Or, she’d surely say this to me?
My baby, no matter, for you already said. Break through the crying sunset, you said.
Break through the crying sunset, she’d say.
“Break through the Crying Sunset” by Juliette Masch (8/18)