Did something cool recently, and no one’s bothered to ask?

Got some stuff on your chest, and no one’s checking in?

Super passionate about a niche topic that not too many people think of?

Toss your question-hopeful here, and let someone pop it!

Here's the IMDB page for The Souvenir (distributed by A24). https://www.imdb.com/title/tt6920356/

IMDB users give the score as 6.6, and the user reviews are stuffed full of people who hate it. The critic reviews are almost entirely positive though.

Here's the Cherry Picks page for The Souvenir. https://www.thecherrypicks.com/films/souvenir

They use reviews from "female-identifying and non-binary film critics", and as a result the film gets good reviews.

I find the reviews surfaced by Cherry Picks to be more thoughtful, more considered, and more useful to me than those surfaced by IMDB or MetaCritic (even though they all pull critic reviews from many of the same sources).

I've found some great films via Cherry Picks.

1. You're with your wife at a party. At your eyes, she looks absolutely stunning. But, with the years, she gained a lot of weight. She asks you: "Honey, does this dress makes me look fat?". And it does. It definitely does. Is lying virtuous in this situation?

2. You're in a relationship. He's handsome, tender, caring and perfect. You feel a bundle of good feelings towards him, but you don't even know what "love" really is. You don't know the true nature of your sentiments, but you know they're strong and you don't wanna hurt his feelings. He asks if you love him. Saying no would be false. Saying yes would be false too. Is lying virtuous in this situation?

3. A three-year-old is dying of cancer. He's only got a few days. He asks you if he's gonna live. You say "yes". Is lying virtuous in this situation?

4. Your fellow soldier lost his legs and torso. He's bleeding through his mouth and high on morphine. He asks you if everything's gonna be okay. You say yes. Is lying virtuous in this situation?

5. You've been married for 5 years and, after some problems, you decide to take a real break (not like Ross and Rachael). During this break, you have sex with several woman/men. You decide to resume the relationship, but you know your partner would not be able to deal with your sexual adventures. When he/she ask about it, you say you didn't see anyone in the time you were apart. Is lying virtuous in this situation?

6. You know the project is dead. You also know that saying so will have absolutely no effect on its direction. Do you say the project is shit, or do you say it's got a shot just to save face? In that case, is there any virtue in telling the truth?

7. You believe A is true, but you also know that declaring A right now will lead to unfavorable result C. Do you declare A right now, or do you wait to declare it when it will lead to favorable result D? This guy knows what I'm talking about...

I made a separate post about the hand-tracking specifically because I think it's especially cool, but Oculus is announcing a lot of things today. Here's a list of some stuff so far, and I'll probably add some more if there are other details/articles/videos.

There's an official overall summary post here: Oculus Connect 6: Introducing Hand Tracking on Oculus Quest, Facebook Horizon, and More

Official individual blog posts (mostly with embedded videos):

• Introducing Hand Tracking on Oculus Quest—Bringing Your Real Hands into VR
• Introducing ‘Facebook Horizon,’ a New Social VR World, Coming to Oculus Quest and the Rift Platform in 2020
• Oculus Quest @ OC6: Introducing Hand Tracking, Oculus Link, Passthrough+ on Quest, and More
• Introducing Oculus Media Studio and the New and Improved Oculus TV, Your One-Stop Shops for Content Consumption and Distribution on Oculus Quest and Oculus Go
• A Closer Look at the New Oculus for Business, Launching in November
• Time to Play @ OC6: New and Upcoming Games Recap
• Learn the Ways of the Force in ‘Vader Immortal: A Star Wars VR Series - Episode II,’ Available Today on Oculus Quest and the Rift Platform
• Respawn Entertainment Reveals the Future of VR with ‘Medal of Honor: Above and Beyond’—Coming Soon to the Rift Platform
• Half Dome Updates: FRL Explores More Comfortable, Compact VR Prototypes for Work

Other posts:

• Ars Technica - Oculus announces plans to build augmented reality glasses
• Gamasutra interview - Respawn's first VR game is Medal of Honor: Above and Beyond

Now that the show is available on the NBC, Hulu and your store of choice, what did you all think about this season premiere of the Good Place? Did we want to do a thread for each episode or just one at the beginning and one at the end?

Logline

During the 2017 Solar Eclipse, a thick-skinned female police officer must prevent millennial Shadows from returning from the depths of the Earth to dominate humanity.

Notes

Post 1

You can also read it in my blog (no advertising, no annoyances, no bullshit).

- As before, this is not my first language. All criticism is extra welcomed
- I included the previous content - the prelude - just because it's so small

@cfabbro, here's the ping you requested! Love to know what you think of it!

Prelude

Before time was time, nights were dreamless. No one narrated the hunts, and death was just a cessation of the body. Births were joyful but meaningless. Statements were nothing more than intentions among roaring, shouts, and racket. Sometimes two sounds came together in funny ways, but meaning was still far away from our primitive cogitations.

In these times of monotony, the Shadows entertained the primitive men. With no timbre or elocution, they came from the deepest layers of Earth’s mantle to tell stories under the moonlight. They lived in harmony, feeding on each other. The Shadows came to life with the laughter and the souls of the Men, and the Men lost the fear of the night with the histories told by the Shadows in a primitive symbiosis.

One day, a man died after eating a tasty looking fruit. Hunting was a gamble, and eventually, men needed to eat potentially dangerous elements. Another, more intelligent man, noted that the juice from his mouth indelibly marked the rock with a pattern that was pleasant to the eyes. He collected more of that fruit, avoiding to put it in contact with sensible areas. This man did not have a proper name. None of them did. They just knew that there was “The Boss”, “The Hunter”, “The Large” and “The Delicate”.

Some men had soft lumps in their chests and above the thighs. Eventually, their bellies got big and other men came out from them. “The Delicate”, who discovered painting, was of this kind. In secret, he drew their hunts in the cave. He made everything bigger and more menacing than it was: the spears, the beast, the joy, the moon, and the flames, that reached the sky.

It took some gestures and vocalizations for The Delicate to make The Hunter understand that that set of traces was him and that the thick line with a pointing end penetrating The Beast was his spear. But soon they understood and had great silence. Followed by a great laugh.

The Hunter imitated the muffled sound of the Beast’s steps and learned to use this sound to talk about the Beast even when it wasn't there. War shouts, death songs, the cutting of the meat, the crackle of the fire, the crickets, the frogs and all animals soon had their sounds, their own “words”.

Men stories gained life by their own making.

The Shadows never came back.

Weakened, they returned to the depths. And, in the emptiness of their soulless existence, felt profound pain.

Chapter 1

Worn books on the balcony: The Physics of the Light, Introduction to Modern Physics and Modern Optics, paid with greasy notes. Stumbles on a rock, knock the books on the sidewalk. On a dark tunnel, fluorescent light flicker irregularly. Hands in his knees, catch his breath and run with the rest of his lungs.

The front is completely black of smut. Turns the key with difficulty. The stairway creaks under his feet. A stack of old newspapers behind the door. Turns on a weak desk lamp. A crack of light comes from the sheets. Closes it with tremble hands and throws himself in the armchair. A thick cloud of smoke leaves Ernesto's relieved self.

The curtain drops with a thud. Behind him, a dark silhouette smiles.

The badge for the "Civilian Police of the State of São Paulo" swing above the toilet. In the ground, two pregnancy tests. Two lines in each. In the holster, a Taurus 38. Impeccable blue jeans. Mariana pees in the third test and waits. Two lines. She's fucking pregnant.

Ernesto's suit seems expensive twenty-year ago. He looks like a bum that made an effort. He holds a thick notebook with paper falling from the edges and a paper folder that seems to be about to explode. Dries his eyes constantly, and there are black spots bellow his armpits. In the edge of the table, it reads: "Mariana Diniz – Commissioner of Police" Ernesto gives her his card: "Eye of Horus - Paranormal Investigations". Below, a stylized eye with Egyptian inspirations. And a landline.

— I don't trust cellphones.

Smiles uncomfortably, trying to hide the nervous tic that makes his head swing like a salamander.

– It may not look, but I'm a busy woman.

Gives her two 15x20 pictures. The first is completely out of focus. The second shows an oddly slim, dark silhouette on a sewer canal. Ernesto sweats like an amphibian having a panic attack.

— For millennia, these creatures have been confined in the interior of the earth. Suffering the monotony of an incomplete existence. Waiting for a chance to come back.

— Yes.

– You don't believe.

Puts the card in her wallet.

– You got my number.

The long hills do not affect Mariana. Sumptuous homes, beautiful landscaping, mutilation, and infanticide. They're all part of the same world.

In a deserted square, eight hood teenagers assemble in a circle. Metal-heads and RPG players never caused her any trouble, but, as commissioner of that town, she has the duty of investigating anything out of the normal. She takes care to not flaunt the weapon.

They ignore her. The kids emit no sound, make no gesture. They're not injured, and their dark eyes are probably contact lenses. They have an ironic smile in their faces. No drug would generate such severe catatonia on a group that size, and there was no law against looking spooky on public premises. Sent two patrol cars to watch the group and went home.

The basic Chevrolet goes through the carefully constructed path, with exotic plants on both sides. Between two neoclassic towers, a slightly lower white house. In the living room, Eliza, short-exquisite-hair, beautiful and androgynous, stare at the TV with thick frame glasses. Notices Mariana's gun.

— Comes with the job.

In slow motion, a voluptuous Marilyn Monroe impersonator pours milk on a bowl of cereal.

– Bruno?

– Upstairs.

A plate brakes in the kitchen. To the left of the sink, dozens of cups organized by color, size, and format. To the other, plastic utensils organized by function and material. Scapular in the neck, Sofia é very white. She wraps the glass in paper, writes "GLASS" in wide letters and ties everything in a thick, transparent plastic bag.

– Your kitchen was too… Illogical.

– Of course.

Mariana notices a red spot below Sofia's long sleeve. She holds the arm of her friend: bruises.

— They're old, diz Sofia.

— Doesn't look like.

Takes the car keys. The pregnancy tests are in the same pocket. Mariana takes a deep breath and looks at the stairways.

Law books on the shelf, almost all sealed. Bruno is on the computer. It's hard to get why they're still married. Mariana has always been stubborn. He's on the computer most of the time. At 40, Mariana has silky black, perfumed hair. Tells good stories in a welcoming way. Mariana loves what the does. She's hit on constantly, by both sexes. And has a way to politely decline that doesn't make anyone uncomfortable.

There's a month since they had sex.

— I'm pregnant.

— Are you sure?

The tests in the keyboard.

— They're from a pharmacy.

— Yep. Three.

She pulls the plug from the computer. Bruno looks at her. His eyes are black.

My phone sits, as I, in silence

In my room – alone.

I hate myself, but seem to lack the energy

To dig into my bones.

When I was younger I was told that

One day God would call me home.

Instead the coffin calls my name in whispers

And beckons the unknown.

.

Why do I feed a body with a

Soul that keeps depleting?

When all my hopes and expectations come up

Short and keep receding – I

Start alternating between plotting,

Thinking, pleading

That I’ll make a rash decision, they’ll

Give my organs to the needy.

.

Perhaps I’ll drive a stake into my head and chest.

No one should endure this mind or heart.

Meditation never seemed to give much value,

All the medication felt a farce.

I’m an incongruent, uncompleted puzzle

Dangling from a bridge; falling apart.

I watch my pieces sink below into the water,

As this letter dances all about the hearth.

.

I carried out important shit in boxes;

Let the rest behind to be thrown away.

I hid and watched as they threw in the dumpster,

A bed now wrought with chocolate and decay.

As the memories flashed in to my brain,

Of how we chose to spend that final day.

(Of how) even on the best day of the end of my life,

I ended up naked, chocolate-covered, curled up on your chest and crying,

Begging you to stay.

.

The devil is a myth they tell believers;

Hell prevents their chasing earthly dreams.

I will not go to Heaven, and there is no Great Receiver

Who will comfort me and silence my screams.

There is no purgatory in the ether;

The earth is this one act’s final scene.

Fittingly, the water isn’t beautiful here either.

It’s choppy, warm, and a putrid shade of green.

.

Someone use my hands to write a sonnet.

Someone use my eyes to see a better day.

Someone use my legs to climb a mountain;

Use my tongue to find the words to say.

They’ll use my lungs to feel the oxygen.

Use my kidney when theirs is in decay.

They’ll use my heart to feel in love again.

I’ll rest easier that way.

So, when we want to link to a podcast , should we link to the webpage or preferred aggregator, or directly to the MP3? Should we have an embedded object for playing audio built into Tildes, or is that out of scope?