text:
By and Dan Newling for MailOnline and Tom Kelly for the Daily Mail
 Updated: 09:24 EST, 23 July 2008

[Actor Christian Bale, 34, leaves Belgravia Police Station in central London]

Bale on bail: Actor Christian Bale leaving London's Belgravia police station yesterday

Batman star Christian Bale confronted his mother after she allegedly insulted his wife, MailOnline has learned.

Sources close to the actor said he 'flew off the handle' at London's Dorchester hotel after Jenny Bale said 'some outrageous things'.

Yesterday, the Welsh-born actor was arrested and bailed over an assault claim, which he has denied.

However, a source close to the 34-year-old actor says Bale is confident he’s done nothing wrong, and blames his mother.

He is also said to have become depressed over the death of close friend and co-star Heath Ledger.

The source said: ‘Christian was stressed, but he didn’t lay a finger on anyone. Instead, he flew off the handle and cussed his mother. He just got very loud because his mother was saying some very outrageous things about him,  and his wife.’

‘Christian's attitude is that this was his mother's fault because she became very provocative in an argument they were having,’ the source said, adding: ‘Things got out of control and he now says he wishes he just left the room.

‘Normally Christian would just call a friend and go out to a pub to cool off. But he was literally trapped into this confrontation with his mother and sister because there was an army of fans and paparazzi outside.’

The incident apparently comes at a time when his marriage to Sandra 'Sibi' Blazic, a former model and make-up artist, is enduring difficulties.

'He has stresses in his marriage,' the source said. 'He can have a terrible temper. Instead of lashing out at his wife, he sometimes lashes out at people around him.'

The source added: ‘His marriage is not perfect, but his relationship with his mother is in much more trouble.

[Christian Bale and wife Sibi arrive for the European premiere of 'The Dark Knight' at the Odeon]

Arrested: Bale, pictured on Monday night at the Dark Knight premiere in London with wife Sibi, is accused of assault

‘They're going to need a "cooling off" period because his mother said some pretty outrageous things to him that really set him off.

‘He regrets the way she treated him in their argument a lot more than having to talk to police about it. Christian has admitted that something just snapped, but he didn't threaten anyone with violence.

‘He's under a lot of pressure right now and simply got incredibly loud with members of his family around. I think his wife is going to be very important to him after all this is over because she does, at the end of the day, know how to calm him down.’

Bale's wife, who has been married to him for eight years, was by his side at the premiere of The Dark Knight, which was also attended by co-stars Sir Michael Caine, Maggie Gyllenhaal and Aaron Eckhart.

The source also claimed Bale had been deeply affected by the death of Ledger, who was found dead earlier this year from an overdose of anti-depressants and sleeping tablets.

'Without Ledger around, he's found it more and more difficult to communicate with those around him, especially his family.’

It was reported he found it hard to shake off the mental strains of the role, and told an interviewer he was having trouble sleeping.

[Heath Ledger and Christian Bale 'Rescue Dawn' film premiere after party, New York, America - 25 Jun 2007]

Friends: Bale, pictured with Heath Ledger at the after party of his film Rescue Dawn in June 2007, was deeply upset by the death of his friend and co-star in January

The two actors, known for being intense about their craft, formed a friendship when they both played Bob Dylan in the 2007 movie I’m Not There.

A friend said: 'Christian pretends he's calm and collected but you really started to see the cracks in his façade in January, right after Heath Ledger had died.

'Christian was in the middle of a very brief break from work when he heard the news, and it was massive blow to him.

'They had become very close during the making of The Dark Knight and Christian went into virtual hiding for the six weeks after Heath was found dead.

‘He wasn't returning phone calls and he wasn't a happy man. It's foolish to think that he's been able to completely shake off that grief just as Heath and his work is finally being seen by audiences.

'He expected to share this moment with his friend, and now he can't.

In a recent interview, Bale admitted that he has been depressed and has experienced bouts of insomnia.

Yesterday he spent nearly five hours being questioned at Belgravia police station.

The multi-millionaire actor, who shot to fame aged 13, refused to comment as he was driven back to the Dorchester in one of the hotel's limousines.

His spokesman said he denied the accusations against him and claimed that the assault allegation was made by Bale's mother and sister.

[hristian Bale with his mother Jenny and his wife Sibi - March 2000]

[Sharon Bale, the sister of Batman star Christian Bale, speaking at her home near Wimborne today after allegations that he assaulted Sharon and their mum, surfaced.]

Family drama: Bale's mother Jenny, pictured left with the actor in 2000, and sister Sharon, right, outside her home in Dorset yesterday

His lawyer said: ‘Christian Bale attended a London police station today, on a voluntary basis, in order to assist with an allegation that had been made against him to the police by his mother and sister.

‘Mr Bale who denies the allegation, co-operated throughout, gave his account in full of the events in question, and has left the station without any charge being made against him by the police. At this time, there will be no further comment by Mr. Bale.’

However, talking to the Daily Mail yesterday, Bale's mother Jenny insisted she was not the one who called police.

Sharon and Jenny Bale had travelled from their homes in Dorset to attend Monday night's premiere in London's Leicester Square.

They were in Bale's hotel suite in Park Lane on Sunday when the actor allegedly angrily lashed out at them.

Having been told about the incident, police waited until they had spoken to his alleged victims before taking action.

Sharon and Jenny Bale called at a Hampshire police station on Monday to make their statements, which were then passed on to the Metropolitan Police for further investigation.

Bale agreed to be interviewed yesterday. He arrived at Belgravia police station at 11.40am and did not leave until 4.20pm.

He was released on bail until September pending further inquiries.

Yesterday, at her £275,000, detached house in Dorset, Jenny Bale said: 'Yes I was there and yes there was a family situation but the police are handling it and I cannot say any more at the moment. We didn't call the police to the scene. I can't say any more but we didn't call the police.'

Computer programmer Sharon initially denied any knowledge of an assault, but then admitted there was 'an incident'.

Talking at her £240,000 semi-detached home in nearby Wimborne she said: 'There was an incident but the police are dealing with it. It is an extremely sensitive situation.'

Christian Bale: Boy from the circus who was a star at 13

BY PAUL BRACCI

'Batman arrested!' It is a headline that even ardent fans of the world's most enduring superhero could never have predicted.

But, then again, the life of Christian Bale has never been conventional.

Brought up in Haverfordwest, Wales, his late father David was a pilot and his mother Jenny a circus performer and dancer. His grandfather had been a ventriloquist and stand-up comedian.

The young Christian used to watch his mother performing. There were other perks too. Recalling those days, he said: 'I'd be in a caravan with beautiful women who would walk around naked except for fishnets and peacock headdresses.'

Understandably, he spent his childhood moving around. At one time or another, the family lived in Portugal and the U.S., before settling in Bournemouth.

He was just 13, with no drama training, when he was plucked by Steven Spielberg from 4,000 hopefuls to star as a boy in a Japanese prisoner-of-war camp in the 1987 epic Empire Of The Sun.

[Batman Christian Bale]

Leading man: Bale as Batman in The Dark Knight

Back home on the south coast, the real schoolboy became a victim of bullies jealous of his success. 'Girls were all over me, boys just wanted to fight me,' Bale would recall.

'I found myself getting into fights I didn't want to have with children who wanted to say, "I hit that geezer who was in the film."

'I had the local paper trying to take shots of me cycling to school. That wasn't fun. I would walk down the street and feel like a freak. I lost a year because I became almost reclusive.'

Even today he is something of a rarity in Hollywood - shunning showbusiness parties, and spending his spare time raising money for animal welfare and campaigning for mountain gorillas in Rwanda.

It was a passion he inherited from his father, who became a renowned environmentalist in the U.S. His parents separated when he was 13 and his father went on to marry feminist writer Gloria Steinem.

Bale, who has two older sisters, followed his father to California to continue his acting career when he was 17 (he says he has visited his native Wales just once since then). He was at his father's side when he died in 2003.

Bale's impressive CV now includes films such as Captain Corelli's Mandolin and American Psycho.

He took method acting to a new level for his 2004 role as paranoid Trevor Reznik in The Machinist when he turned himself into almost a human skeleton.

The 6ft Bale survived on a cup of coffee and an apple a day, his weight dropping to eight-and-a-half stone. His mother said: 'He lost so much weight. I was horrified.'

Today Bale is married to Sandra 'Sibi' Blazic, a former personal assistant to Winona Ryder, and the couple have a three-year-old daughter, Emmaline.

question: What does the text say about The Joker?

question: Summarize the main news event.

answer: Actor Christian Bale was arrested by London's Belgravia police after a heated argument with his mother, Jenny. His sister Sharon was also present. Bale was taken in for questioning after an assault complaint, but the Batman star denies hurting anyone and says he didn't threaten anyone with violence. He is blaming his mother for the incident, saying that Jenny was saying some outrageous things about him and his wife. Bale, who was said to also be suffering from depression due to the death of his close friend and co-star Heath Ledger, is said to also be dealing with a rough patch in his marriage with Sandra Blazic. Jenny and Sharon deny calling the police on Bale. The incident happened at London's Dorchester Hotel.

question: What does the text say about the relationship between Christian Bale and his mother, Jenny?

answer: Based on the text, Christian Bale has a troubled relationship with his mother, Jenny. He lost his temper and cussed her out at the Dorchester Hotel after she apparently said some outrageous things about him and his wife, Sibi. Their relationship is so bad that Jenny called the police on her own son and accused him of assault. Bale denies hurting anyone and the police did not charge him. Jenny denies ever calling the police, although Bale's camp says otherwise.

question: What does the text say about Christian Bale's career?

answer: Christian Bale is a 34-year old actor born in Wales. His first acting break came when he was 13-years old. He got selected by Stephen Speilberg out of 4,000 hopefuls to star as a boy in a Japanese prisoner-of-war camp in the 1987 epic Empire of The Sun. Bale's intense method acting became a staple of his career, with acting credits that include Captain Corelli's Mandolin, American Psycho, and 2004's The Machinist, where he played the paranoid Trevor Reznik. Bale turned himself into a human skeleton for the role, surviving on an apple and a cup of coffee a day. Bale also starred alongside his close friend, the late Heath Ledger, in the 2007 movie, Rescue Dawn, as well as the movie I'm Not There, where they both played Bob Dylan. His most famous role to date is playing Batman in The Dark Knight.


split: test

text:
**BLURRED LINES**

“I am going to take a step forward. A figurative step forward, but I will represent that step with its physical counterpart”.

The scratch of pen on paper is the only response.

“Of course I won’t take that step here, or now, I’ll take the step when I deserve it”.

I turn my head a little to the side to catch a glimpse of the person I’m talking to, just to make sure she’s listening.

Eyes set behind glasses stare directly into mine. I quickly turn back to the ceiling, pretending to stretch as I go. The loud crackling of leather beneath me reminds me why I haven’t been moving. I hate the sound of leather, it’s the sound of plastic tearing and it hurts my ears on a level I can’t explain.

I wriggle uncomfortably for a while longer before I give up. The light above me is glaring and I have to squint to keep my eyes open.

“I took your advice and talked with a friend about it”.

The scratching paused, “and how did that make you feel?”

I move a little restlessly, “I don’t know, it made me feel better I guess”.

The scribbling of the pen continues once more, “What exactly did you tell your friend?”

My palms are getting a little sweaty, it’s too hot today, I wish she’d turn the AC up a bit.

“I told him I was going to commit suicide and that he shouldn’t try to stop me”.

I can almost feel the frown on her face as she stops writing once more. I want to see the expression she’s making but I’m still wary of being caught like last time. Instead I remain completely still, breathing a little quicker than before.

“You know I don’t appreciate it when you lie like that Mr Andrews”.

I feel like I’ve been stabbed in the gut, spots of darkness blur my vision and it feels like a hundred butterflies are trying to burst out of my stomach. I lie completely still and take deep breaths, waiting, hoping for the feeling to pass. The silence stretches out and all I can hear is my own breathing, in and out, in and out, again and again, the rest of my life is nothing but breathing.

The sound of writing comes to my ears once more and somehow its noise is soothing.  The darkness fades and the nausea passes. I’m once more forced to squint into the fluorescent lighting above.

“I don’t like my friend, I think he’s a jerk.”

I wipe my sweaty hands on my shirt, the crackle of leather reaches my ears and I cringe inwardly.

“Why don’t you like your friend?”

Her voice is quite nice now that I think about it, feminine and caring with a motherly quality to it. I want to hear her voice speak to me and tell me everything is alright, I want to hear her voice saying anything at all.

“I just think he’s a real jerk, he always wants to do things his way, and he treats me like an idiot”.

My mind is beginning to wander, I’ve been lying here for so long, I think my left leg is starting to cramp up.

“Does this friend know how you feel?”.

Violent thoughts wash through my head with an unexpected suddenness, I want to sneer at her, I want to tell her to get fucked you stupid bitch. An overwhelming desire to leap out of my chair and choke this stupid whore to death crashes through me. Terrible thoughts careen through my head one after another, an unstoppable flow.  My hands twitch slightly.

“No I guess not”.

“Then that’s the first thing I want you to do next time you see him, tell him how you feel about his behaviour”.

My thoughts continue to rage and the need to vomit overcomes me, I begin to choke but somehow I can’t seem to move my body. Heaving and gagging I can feel the bile crawling its way out of my throat. I can feel my mouth being forced open as it attempts to escape. My jaw is locked open and four black legs reach out tentatively, testing the air. Soon a large black body squeezes itself out of my mouth. The spider is as big as my head and after firmly extricating itself from my face it releases its grip on my jaw. I begin coughing and choking immediately and tears are running down my face from the pain. The spider turns to look at me, segmented eyes glint darkly as it stares at my suffering with unknowable thoughts. Without warning the spider leaps off the couch and scurries away faster than I can keep track of it, bored of observing its previous host no doubt.

“How does that make you feel?”

The shrink is completely absorbed in her notes, her pen moves endlessly from left to write, a never ending flow of words describing every detail of this sitting, every word spoken and unspoken, I wouldn’t be surprised if she planted that spider just to see how I’d react.

“How does that make you feel Mr Andrews?”

As she speaks her forehead is melting down her face, covering her eyes and nose, dripping down her mouth and slowly freezing in place just below her chin. The image is that of a wax head that has been left in the sun too long, liquefying in the heat then hardening once more into a garish mockery of the human face. I can tell it’s looking at me, the mouth inside is moving but nothing but a muffled oomph can be heard from her. I reach out towards her, I want to rip a hole through her mouth so she can speak to me again, so I can hear her beautiful voice once more.

“Mr Andrews are you feeling alright?”

I blink and I’m staring at the fluorescent lights above me once more, my hand reaching upwards with an open palm. I look to see the shrink has put down her notepad, staring at me with concern in her eyes, her face exactly as I remembered it when I first entered here. I let my hand drop down.

“Yeah I’m feeling alright”.

The shrink is frowning at me but before she can speak a small buzzer goes off on her desk nearby.

“Oh well would you look at the time, an hour already, well Mr Andrews today was another good session, come see me again same time next week and we will continue our talks”

She moves about, carefully placing her notepad and pen on her desk.

“Make sure you talk to your friend, I’m sure he doesn’t want to hurt you on purpose, and keep up the good work, you’ve been steadily improving each session and if we keep up the pace I have no doubt you will become a positive member of society once more”.

She smiles and holds out her hand to be shaken. I get up hurriedly, the sound of crackling leather is loud as I rise.

“Thank you Rebecca, I always feel better after these sessions”.

The shrink smiles as we shake hands, her hand is cold from writing for so long, while mine are still sweaty from the heat. She pretends not to notice.

“Goodbye Mr Andrews, take care on your way home”.

She opens the door for me, a warm smile painted on her lips, as I make to leave I notice a big black spider scuttle along the wall and out of the door. I look to Rebecca to see if she noticed but she merely stares back at me, black eyes the colour of the spider’s fur staring straight through me. I step outside and into a living room. There is a couch and a TV. A small rug lies on the floor. I look to the left and I can see a small kitchen. White except for the wooden chopping board lying on the bench and the remains of a variety of vegetables. I walk over to the chopping board, this is my house. I look behind me to the open door leading out into the apartment complex. I try to remember how I got here when a sudden spitting pain shrieks through the side of my head. I gasp and my right eye blacks out, I crumple to the floor as I am no longer able to control half of my body.

Lying on the ground I can do nothing but gasp and squirm, panic has taken control of my thoughts and everything has become a blur. Sounds and images swirl into thoughts and break apart before they can fully take shape, strange zig zag shapes crash quietly around me and small squiggles draw themselves out of the ground. Yellow orbs float gently through the sky in a V formation before slowly being absorbed into the wall. As I watch my surroundings I feel waves of peace smothering me. I can feel something turning my head. It’s the spider. His name is Mike. He’s smiling at me, white teeth glistening, a static point in the universe amongst the chaos around me.

“Andy, let it all go Andy, let it all go….”

The spider is speaking in a deep baritone voice, my father’s voice. The spider is speaking the words but it’s as though using a mouth is alien to him. The words are slurred and the shapes of his lips don’t quite match the sounds they’re making.

“Andy… look at me Andy, I’m trying to help you Andy, why do you keep fighting me? Andy look at me when I speak to you”.

Spider arms reach out and grab my face while a few more reach in and pry the skin away from the sockets of my eyes. Appendages sway gently above me before they slowly dig into my skull. I can feel the individual hairs of the spider’s arms curl gently against my skin and a pin prick of pain as the spider arms wrap around my eyes. The grip tightens then loosen and all of a sudden my eye’s roll rapidly in their sockets like marbles tossed along the road and all I can see are a dizzying array of colours shooting in and out of darkness. Dizziness overwhelms me and I attempt to push the spider away only to feel my arms pinned to my sides. I flail hopelessly until my eyes are shocked into a sudden stillness as they stare directly into glinting, multifaceted eyes.

“You know what to do Andy, stop being a fucking coward and do it already. You’re wasting my time with all this Andy”.

The voice has changed, it is no longer my father’s, it’s the doctor’s voice, soft and caring, belying the harshness of the words themselves.

“How do you feel Andy? Do you feel pathetic Andy? Do you feel like a worthless piece of shit Andy because that’s what you are Andy. Every day I have to listen to you is another day I could have spent with my family Andy, a family that loves me, where’s your family Andy?”

I attempt to mumble a response, my arms are no longer being held down and I reach for the spider.

“Where's your family Andy? Where are your friends? Where the fuck are they huh Andy? ANDY YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT, YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO, NOW FUCKING DO IT”.

The psychiatrist’s voice rises to a shrill pitch as it continues to scream obscenities at me. I reach forwards and grab it by the mouth. The voice gargles as I stretch its mouth and it screams in anger and pain as I rip it completely off. The spider stares at me awhile longer, thoughts suddenly impassive and unknowable.

“Mike you’re a jerk, I don’t like the way you yell at me all the time, it really hurts my feelings”.

The spider stares darkly at me and I force my eyes shut so I don’t have to look at him anymore. When I open them once more Mike is gone, instead I am staring at the marbled floor, face cold from resting on the chilly tiles.

With an effort I pull myself off the floor, everything is still blurry as I grab the bench besides me and heave myself up. I struggle over to the sink and vomit black bile and a half digested breakfast into the basin. I hold myself up next to the bench, weak and exhausted. To my right is a butcher’s knife. I haven’t seen it yet, but I always know where it is. Screaming words echoes gently against my skull and I force them away before grabbing a small white bottle nearby.

I put the label up to my face and I can only see small scribbles, no doubt describing it as a medicine of some sort. I twist off the cap knowing exactly what I’ll see. Little black spiders writhe inside, scuttling against one another in an attempt to get out and away from each other. I quickly reach in and grab one before closing up the bottle again before they can get away. I hold the one I’ve caught by the leg and star at its struggling frame. Black legs spasm in an attempt to gain purchase in the air and its entire body swivels right and left looking for any escape. I try not to think too much and throw it into my mouth and swallow it whole. I can feel it wriggling in my throat, still trying to escape and I resist the urge to vomit once more. I place the bottle carefully, right next to the knife, glittering ever so gently on the bench. My hand drags across the burnished metal with a careful caress and fingers linger for a few seconds longer then they probably need to before I let go. The blurry edges of the house are beginning to sharpen, I can distinguish the objects around me once more. Floor, painting, ceiling, chair, microwave, toaster. I walk forwards, back a little straighter as I go into my room. Computer, sheet, pillow. I sit down on the bed, brown carpet, blue blanket, and I lie down and stare at the roof and count the small holes that spot the plaster. Four, eleven, twenty four, twenty five, twenty six. Twenty six holes in this panel. I count them again. And again. Familiar tears stream down my face as I count, over and over, I think about Mike, I miss Mike, and the sound of the psychologist’s voice, not her words of anger but the words of peace and tranquility in her office. “How do you feel Andy?” Those words repeat like a staccato rhythm next to the monotony of the counting. I lie there, awake, counting and thinking, lying in the warm pool of tears until finally, finally, the sweet bliss of unconsciousness takes me once more.

title: Blurred Lines

question: What is the setting of this story?

answer: The story takes place in a psychiatrist's consulting room. The patient, Mr Andrews, is lying on the sofa speaking to his doctor. The psychiatrist seems oblivious to the deeply traumatic experience of the patient as she continues to write her notes.

question: Why does the patient become so agitated?

answer: The patient is becoming increasingly agitated as the doctor questions him about his friend. The first signs of unusual agitation happen when the doctor calls him out on a lie. Though it is unclear exactly what the lie is. Thinking of his "friend" increases the feelings of rage.


text:
The Bridge
11/12/2014
By Sonny Smarra
	The flick of his lighter broke the night’s silence. He brought the flame to the tip of the cigarette he had squeezed between his trembling lips and inhaled deeply. His lungs greeted the smoke like an old friend, with an open door and no complaints.
	He sighed, releasing equal amounts of smoke and disappointment from his body. The only reason he had started smoking was because of the burn, that sweet burst of unpleasantness he used to have to struggle through after every hit. He knew bad things were destined to come to him anyway, so it felt good to be able to conquer one of them, no matter how small.
	But now here he was, the burn simply another entry on the long list of things that the world had decided to take away from him. It was never ending, and Fate didn’t seem to ever forget that fact. He couldn’t go twenty minutes without something going wrong, and it wasn’t just little stuff either; for every time he stubbed his toe or got stuck at a red light there were two cases of an unfair assignment from a professor or girls rejecting him.
	Cigarette now down to the filter, he took one last hit and let the charred remains fall from his fingers into darkness. His eyes tracked the progress the entire way down, not once losing sight of the bright red cherry until it was extinguished by the lake sitting below him.
	The thought of the water brought him back to the real reason he was here tonight. Why he had picked three A.M. on a Tuesday to come to the bridge, why that note that said what it did was waiting on his roommate’s desk to be discovered in the morning.
	It was only one word. Four measly letters arranged in a way that didn’t have a bit of significance to them until this plan had popped into his head. He hadn’t even uttered the word since; he wanted the occasion to be special. It had bored its way down through his brain into his mouth, and now sat on the tip of his tongue just waiting to be spoken.
	“Jump.”
	There. Now the world knew. He was sick of the lies, the stress, the tests, the debt, all of that and more. Finally, he was taking action against these injustices. He was going to end them all at once.
	He withdrew his dangling feet and carefully stood up. A gentle wind hit against his back, whispering for him to get closer to the ledge. He took a deep breath and shoved another cigarette into his mouth.
	Doubt surged through him. What if it didn’t work? He had picked the spot specifically for its foolproofness, but he had never tried to do this before so what if he was wrong? It would be a fate worse than death if he somehow managed to survive this ordeal. The thought of what his peers would say made him shudder.
	A quick look down at the water put his fears to rest. If the eighty foot drop didn’t do him in then the fact that he couldn’t swim surely would. No chance of failure.
	Now he was coughing. The cacophony of his hacks and wheezes ran away from him into the night. Another hit. No difficulty this time. Of course.
	That familiar feeling was back. Eighty percent frustration and twenty percent sick of this shit.
	He turned his head to the sky. It had been completely dark when he had first arrived, but now the stars were out in full force. He didn’t know any constellations but that didn’t stop him from tracing his own with the cherry of his cigarette.  A smile flitted across his face as he played connect the dots; this cluster was the rejection letter from his dream school, that one the shithole he was forced into, so on and so forth.
	The game eventually brought his eyes to the moon. It was completely full, nothing less than a rounded diamond in the sky. Light bled from the gem in every direction, but only one moonbeam managed to find its way to the lake.
	It illuminated the water it laid on, showcasing the calmer side of one of nature’s most destructive forces. Liquid stilled to the point of solidity, the phosphorescent trail stretched across the entire lake, looking almost as sturdy as the bridge he was standing on.
	Everything in the scene practically screamed ‘beauty’.  He marveled at what was before him, and wondered how such an anomaly was possible. How the same force which had drove him to the ledge could also take his breath away, how the same world which had been so cruel to him could dare to be so picturesque.
	Maybe it was trying to tell him something? Maybe he was supposed to see tonight and let it change his mind.
	A large cloud passed overhead, throwing the world back into darkness. No. If anything this only strengthened his case. The world he lived in was a rich dick of a stepdad, capable of so much yet had seen it fit to give him so little.
	With steel beams now backing his resolve he slid confidently towards the edge. This was the time.
	A breath.
	He inched closer.
	Another.
	Everything was right.
	In.
	Now or never.
	Out.
	He jumped.
	The first part was kind of fun. His initial burst off of the bridge had been strong enough to propel him a few feet upwards and that was a distance he traveled gladly. A straight smile found its way to his face as his body twisted through the air.
	Unfortunately the descent was a different story. Whenever he had acted out the idea in his head, his final moments were always filled with absolute serenity. A very brief period of peace where he would have an epiphany then accept his fate like the man he was. This might have been achievable, too, had he not jumped in such a harsh manner. If he would have simply stepped from the ledge, his fall would have been respectfully predictable and he could have collected his thoughts as he wished.
	Of course, this was not the case, and he now found himself flipping head over heels to his death, his mind producing only the words “fuck” and “shit” instead of the pre-mortem catharsis he so desperately craved.
	Face to the sky and back to the water, a sixth sense told him that his journey was almost over. Though he had meant to keep them shut the entire time his eyes flew open just before contact.
	Unveiled and once again shining to its fullest extent, the moon filled the world with light the same as before he had jumped. It was all he could see.
	That wasn’t too bad, and a feeling that closely resembled that of a revelation began to-
	He slammed into something. There was no splash and he was still breathing, which meant it definitely wasn’t water. Still a little groggy from the impact, he flipped over to inspect his saving grace.
	Beneath him was what seemed to be a solidified layer of light. Its glow was harsh, impossible to miss, yet still welcoming, like a neon exit sign would look to people trapped in a burning building.   Goosebumps raced across his skin as his body filled with immense amounts of comfort and relief. Suddenly, he had energy, and that made him want to move.
	He scrambled to his feet and looked around. The water of the lake sat unnaturally still around the thin sheet of luminescence, but rippled outward with waves everywhere else. He took a hesitant step forward. The light lapped around his foot but still managed to support his weight.
	Soft to the step and getting better with each stride, the light was an absolute pleasure to walk on. His head had played no role in what had been his leg’s decision to start, but the mutiny was quickly forgiven due to the influx of good vibes the stroll was producing.
	Whispers started to drift from the light. They got louder as he continued on, each step adding another decibel. Once he was able to actually differentiate the voices all the color drained out of his face and he was left as white as what he currently stood on. One belonged to him, and the other to the woman who had been his loving caretaker for his entire life.
	His legs made another executive decision and began to run. As he pounded closer and closer the sounds became more and more real. From far away he had identified a disruption in the glow of his path, and he was approaching it rapidly. He stopped just short and looked down to inspect it.
	The space between the light and the water served as a screen for a scene ripped directly from his memories. There he was, as his seven year old self had been, curled up in his mother’s lap, whose face was significantly younger than the one that had dropped him off at school a few months ago, in his favorite spot on the living room couch in the house he had grown up in, which hadn’t really changed at all.
	She had him wrapped completely in her arms, pressed secure to her chest. Her fingers ran through his hair lovingly as she sung sweet compliments that went gently into his ears. He recognized the smile on his younger self’s face as the same that wiggled its way onto his own whenever he realized he couldn’t be any happier. It had been a while since he had even thought of it.
	Moments like these in his childhood weren’t rare by any stretch of the imagination. If there had been one constant in his life besides suffering it was the love of his mother. She had always been there for him, never failing to pick up the pieces no matter how bad he had managed to break things.
	He knew his plan hadn’t been fair to her, and that the admittedly small explanation written on the note would never be enough. He sighed. There was no way of going about this without hurting her. It had to be done.
	He stepped over the show but before long found himself standing in front of another one. More recent than the last, but still five years removed from the present, the scene caused a wave of delight to rush over him.
	This was when he had first kissed a girl. A vague remembrance of the day formed in his head. It had definitely been hot. Maybe a week after his thirteenth birthday. The name of the girl escaped him but that didn’t matter, for the memory of how beautiful she had been was all he needed.
	And there the two were, slowly loping up a hill of an alleyway. She looking every bit the goddess and he every bit the nervous wreck that they both had been, respectively. He watched the unintentional actors perform in the theater he used to call his life.
	They played their parts well, followed the script to a tee. He rushed them under the overhang of a nearby garage just before the rain began to pour down. She pulled him close when lightning struck, then tried to hide in his arms when thunder began to beat its way across the sky.
	He seized the moment and made his move. His aim was dead on, but he hadn’t checked to see if his path was clear, so instead of meeting her’s his lips pressed against a significant amount of hair.
	Determined to succeed, he redoubled his efforts against those stray menaces. They sensed his will, parted ways, and now his lips were on her’s. Everything stopped as both parties realized what was going on.
	While it had been the least technically skilled kiss of his life, it had also been the one that had made him the happiest. In those static electric moments immediately after when they both had been afraid to move the entire universe had been at his fingertips. He had never felt more powerful, more complete, more hopeful for what was yet to come than he had in those few seconds, and though he had tried to replicate the results he never could get it to happen again.
	The memory of his failure made him stick to his stomach so he rushed over the still moving picture with his eyes closed. When the next set of whispers started he attempted to do the same, to ignore it and walk past, but eventually the voices got too familiar.
	Sounds not long ago heard coming from people he had seen in the hours before his jump assaulted his ears. His eyes ripped open like a bag of chips in a stoner’s hands, and he drank in the scene as thirstily as the same stoner would to solve his cotton mouth.
	He was sitting at a table full of the people he had begun to call his friends over the course of the semester. The date flashed on one of their phones, and he was stunned to see what was being depicted had happened earlier that day.
	But it couldn’t be because he had studied his face closely and came to the conclusion that he looked happy. The smile on his face looked impossibly similar to the one from his first memory, and the twinkle in his eyes reminded him of how amazing he had felt after that kiss. Inarguable bliss.
	His mind travelled back to the event, and now that he thought about it he didn’t actually recall being unhappy. He didn’t remember it that way, but the proof was in front of him; he had undoubtedly been having a good time. If that was true for this that meant that…
	It was then that the realization hit him. That he still wanted, okay, needed the love of his mother, that he still wasn’t ready to give up trying to find that first kiss spark again, that he might have been leading a better life than he had thought.
	Filled with a new purpose, he turned around but a cloud passed in front of the moon and when the light returned it was the only thing that did.

title: [FN] The Bridge

question: What has happened to the narrator and what is he experiencing in the second part of the story?

answer: The narrator has committed suicide. He is having flashbacks of his life and seeing how happy he appeared even hours before he jumped, he has regrets. He decides to turn back but it is too late.

question: Why is the narrator contemplating suicide?

answer: It appears that the narrator is suffering from depression. He stews over the things that go wrong in his life. He thinks about the stress, the lies and the debt. The last straw was a rejection letter from the school of his dreams.


text:
First try at a short story, I would love to hear what you think!

The story of James Butler

This is the story of James Butler. Now James Butler is a very ordinary man, living in an ordinary house with an ordinary wife and two of the most ordinary children in the world. James Butler works an ordinary job in an ordinary office, and an ordinary plant sits on the edge of his ordinary desk. When he gets home at exactly 6 in the evening, James Butler enjoys reading ordinary books or watching ordinary shows on his ordinary television. Now nothing would give us the impression that something is out of the ordinary in this man’s ordinary life. Nothing but a giant glass wall that separates James Butler from another world. Now in that other world, there lives a James Butler. Now James Butler lives a very extraordinary life. James Butler lives in the most extraordinary house with an extraordinary wife and two of the most extraordinary children in the world. James Butler works an extraordinary job in an extraordinary workplace. When he gets home, at whichever time suits him most, James Butler enjoys doing extraordinary things, like rock climbing or playing extraordinary chess championships at his extraordinary local chess club.

Now, apart from the fact that James Butler is a very extraordinary man, and the other James Butler is a very ordinary man, there’s one more thing that separates these two James Butlers. When James Butler wakes up on an ordinary Monday morning, and looks in his ordinary mirror before an ordinary Monday morning shave, there is no smile on his face. There’s sadness in his eyes, and bags under his eyes from a lack of sleep. When James Butler goes to work on this very ordinary Monday morning, there is no smile on his face. When James Butler works his ordinary 8-hour shift for his ordinary job, there is no smile on his face. Now the evening, that’s where it gets interesting. In the evening, when James Butler sits in an ordinary bus to make his way home, something not quite ordinary happens. Every evening, when James Butler returns to his ordinary house from his ordinary job, he looks through the window of the bus, trying to catch a glimpse of the James Butler on the other side of glass. Trying to catch just a small glimpse of the smile that sits upon the other James Butler’s face. Now that glimpse, that small of part of joy on the other side of the glass, that is what keeps the ordinary James Butler from going insane. Now going insane would be extremely extraordinary, and an ordinary man like James Butler wouldn’t want to go extraordinary now, would he?

But there’s another reason why James Butler tries to catch a glimpse of that smile every evening. The extraordinary James Butler, who leaves his job with a smile on his face every day, had a very ordinary past. It was a fun past, but an ordinary past. He watched his children grow up in a very ordinary fashion, and he loved his ordinary wife. When his children grew up and left the house to become adults themselves, James Butler started picking up hobbies for himself, and his life became extraordinary, filled with action, suspense and fun. Now our ordinary James Butler misses this kind of ordinary past. When James Butler was still a young, energetic man, and his wife was expecting their second child, something extraordinary happened. When our ordinary James Butler was working his 8-hour shift one day, he got a very extraordinary call from the hospital. His wife and first child had been in a car accident, and both had passed away on site. After hearing this news, James Butler excused himself and made his way home, where he drank an extraordinary amount of whiskey. This excessive amount of whiskey was the last extraordinary thing to happen in James Butler’s life. From that moment onwards, joy was hard to find for James Butler, and he lived from ordinary day to ordinary day, ordinary moment to ordinary moment, trying not to succumb to his grief. Eventually, maybe as a way of dealing with the sadness, but no one could quite tell, James Butler’s wife and children returned to him. They sat at his ordinary dinner table eating an ordinary spaghetti, and they slept in their ordinary beds at night. Now James Butler kept living like this until he was an old man, but he never became the happy man he once was. The presence of this wife and children gave him some comfort, but it was an empty shell, for every evening he would look at the other side of the glass and see what his life could have been.

But when James Butler was old and dying, something extraordinary happened once more, for the last time in his life. He got up and left his ordinary old man’s chair for the first time in a long while. James Butler then made his way outside, but left his coat and his hat hanging on their ordinary hooks in the hallway. He made his way along the glass wall, looking inside the entire way. On the other side sat an old man, wearing his coat and his hat. James Butler’s grand children came to visit him often, and even after the death of his wife joy still had a place in his life. Upon seeing this sight, our ordinary James Butler clenched his fists and started hitting the glass that had separated him from joy his entire life. It hurt, but he kept on hitting and hitting. Until finally, a crack appeared on the wall. As James Butler kept punching, the crack kept getting bigger and bigger, until finally after what seemed to be an eternity, it shattered. Billions of little pieces of glass came crashing down, and for the first time since that terrible accident, James Butler stepped to the other side of the wall.
On that other side of the wall is where James Butler died, with a smile on his face and a sea of glass surrounding him, while the other James Butler was nowhere to be found.

EDIT: Lay-out

title: [MF] The story of James Butler

question: What does the text say about the ordinary James Butler's job?

answer: James works an ordinary job in an ordinary office. He has a desk with a plant sitting on the edge. He's able to get home at exactly 6 every night after work. When he goes to work his eight hour shifts on Monday, there is no smile on his face.

question: What does the text say about what keeps James Butler from going insane?

answer: On the other side of the ordinary James' mirror is the extraordinary James. This extraordinary version smiles when he looks in the mirror, unlike the ordinary James who seems dissatisfied with his life. Catching just a small glimpse of the smile and seeing the joy on this extraordinary version keeps ordinary James from going insane. He tries to catch this glimpse every evening.

question: Summarize the extraordinary James' ordinary past.

answer: Extraordinary James's past was ordinary but fun. He watched his children grow up in an ordinary fashion, and he loved his ordinary wife. However, when his children grew up and left the house, James picked up hobbies. This caused his life to become extraordinary.

question: Summarize the story's negative events.

answer: When James was a young man, he received a phone call at work. It was from the hospital, his wife and child had been in a car accident and passed away. His wife was also pregnant with their second child. He later imagined his wife and children around him for the rest of his life, maybe as a reaction to his grief. He even seemed to imagine his wife's death at an old age.

question: What does the text say about James Butlers' daughter?


text:
[The home of C.L.R. James, 165 Railton Road] RAILTON ROAD runs between Brixton and Herne Hill in the London Borough of Lambeth. The road is designated the B223. At the northern end of Railton Road it becomes Atlantic Road, linking to Brixton Road at a junction where the Brixton tube station is located. At the southern end is Herne Hill railway station.

History

The 1981 Brixton riot, the most serious riot of the 20th century in the United Kingdom, started here. The George public house was burnt down and a number of other buildings were damaged, and the area became known as the “Front Line”. The George was replaced with a Caribbean bar called Mingles in 1981, which lasted in one form or another (later called Harmony) as a late night mostly Caribbean-British attended club/bar until the 2000s. Despite its reputation as run down, violent and racially tense - a 'no-go' area - it was in fact an important hotbed of Afro-Caribbean culture and radical political activity and working-class community. Much of this radical recent past has since been erased in the ongoing process of gentrification that is affecting much of the Brixton area.

Notable people

-   Pearl Alcock[1]
-   Winifred Atwell opened “The Winifred Atwell Salon” at 82a Railton Road in 1956[2]
-   Rotimi Fani-Kayode lived and died at 151 Railton Road[3]
-   Darcus Howe[4]
-   Leila Hassan, editor of _Race Today_[5]
-   Linton Kwesi Johnson[6]
-   C.L.R. James lived and died at 165 Railton Road, where in 2004 English Heritage erected a blue plaque.[7][8][9]
-   Olive Morris lived at 121 Railton Road[10]

Notable organisations

-   198 Contemporary Arts and Learning
-   121 Centre at 121 Railton Road
    -   The centre was home to a bookshop, a cafe, a meeting room, and offices for organisations such as The Anarchist Black Cross and the Faredodgers Association.
    -   It also hosted the legendary club night _Dead by Dawn_, and early sets by artists such as Hectate.[11]
    -   It was squatted as the 121 Centre from 1981 to 1999, making it one of London's longest continuous squats.[12] When it was evicted, Railton Road held a number of street parties mourning the loss of the important community asset.
    -   The building has now been converted into flats.
-   Brixton Black Women's Group at 121 Railton Road[13]
-   Black Panther Movement[14]
-   South London Gay Community Centre, GLF and Brixton Fairies at number 78[15][16]
    -   The building has now been knocked down and converted into luxury apartments, with no reference to its past
-   Race Today Collective at 165 Railton Road

Gallery

File:C.L.R. JAMES 1901-1989 West Indian Writer and Political Activist lived and died here.jpg|Blue Plaque at 165 Railton Road File:External view of 198 Contemporary Arts and Learning, 2010.jpg |198 Contemporary Arts and Learning, 198 Railton Road

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7] “Darcus Howe – fighter for Black people’s rights”, _Brixton Blog_, 2 April 2017.

[8] “CLR James | Writer | Blue Plaques”. English Heritage.

[9] Leila Hassan, Robin Bunce and Paul Field, “Books | Here to Stay, Here to Fight: On the history, and legacy, of ‘Race Today’”, _Ceasefire_, 31 October 2019.

[10]

[11]

[12]

[13]

[14]

[15]

[16]

title: Railton Road

question: What does the article say about the Brixton riot?

answer: The most serious riot of the 20th century in the United Kingdom started in Brixton. The George public house was burnt down and a number of other buildings were damaged, and the area became known as the “Front Line”. The George was replaced with a Caribbean bar called Mingles in 1981, which lasted in one form or another mostly Caribbean-British attended bar until the 2000s. Much of this radical recent past has since been erased in the ongoing process of gentrification that is affecting much of the Brixton area.

question: What does the article say about the Brixton population today?


text:
My synagogue owns a set of huge _mahzorim_ – prayerbooks for Jewish holidays – that was printed in Lithuania in 1914.

I like to look at these books every year as July 4 approaches.  I carefully turn their yellowed, crumbling pages until I get to the Prayer for the Government, recited shortly after the reading of the Torah and Haftarah.  And in this prayerbook, the prayer reads:

+-----------------------------------------------------------------------+
| []                                                                    |
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------+
| _Mahzor Kol-Bo_, Vilna, 1914                                          |
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------+

TRANSLATION:
_May He Who grants salvation to kings and dominion to rulers,_

_Whose kingdom is a kingdom spanning all eternity,_

_Who releases David, his servant, from the evil sword,_

_Who places a road in the sea and a path in the mighty waters –_

_May He bless, protect, guard, assist, elevate, exalt, and lift upwards_

_Our master CZAR NIKOLAI ALEXANDROVICH,_

_With his wife, the honorable CZARINA ALEXANDRA FEODOROVNA_

_Their son, the crown prince ALEXI NIKOLAIOVICH_

_And his mother, the honorable CZARINA MARIA FEODORAVNA_

_And the entire house of our king, may their glory be exalted._

_May the King of kings in His mercy give him life, and protect him,_

_And save him from every trouble, woe and injury._

_May nations submit under his feet, and may his enemies fall before him,_

_And may he succeed in whatever he endeavors._

_May the King of kings, in His mercy, grant compassion in his heart _

_and the heart of all his advisors_

_To do favors for us and for all Israel, our brethren._

_In his days and in our days, may Judah be saved, and may Israel dwell securely,_

_And may the Redeemer come to Zion._

_So may it be His will – and we say:  AMEN._

This prayer is so strange as to be almost comical.   You remember in _Fiddler on the Roof_, when someone asks the rabbi, “Is there a blessing for the Czar?”  He responds:  “A blessing for the Czar?  Of course – may God bless and keep the Czar …. Far away from us!”  And in fact, there IS a prayer for the Czar, or whoever the ruler happened to be, in traditional _siddurim_.  Over the course of five centuries, hundreds of prayerbooks have included a version of the prayer above, with the name of the current leader inserted.

Why did Jews say prayers like this?  One objective could have been to curry favor with the king.  Jews tended to rely upon the king to ensure their safety, and in fact, Jews tended to fare better in places where the king was strong.  So this could have been a prayer uttered in sincerity:  a strong king, even a moderately anti-Jewish one, was better for the Jews than a weak king who would be overcome by the raging mob.

But most observers understand prayers like this as examples of the political use of liturgy, rather than as authentic expressions of religious devotion.  The prayer is recited, and printed in the prayerbook, simply to ensure that no one could accuse the Jews of disloyalty.  Stringing together so many synonyms -- “may He bless, safeguard, preserve, help, exalt, make great, extol, and raise high…” -- makes it sound like the community is trying to make a point, rather than simply praising someone they genuinely want to praise.  It is hard to imagine that Jewish communities that had been terrorized by Czar Nicholas II and the previous Czars would have prayed without irony, “May his enemies fall before him.”  After all, who were those enemies?!   But no matter how cruelly they were mistreated, they still needed to create an illusion of respect for the authorities.

One line towards the end of the prayer, however, appears to be an utterly serious plea: “May the King of kings, in His mercy, grant compassion in his heart and the heart of all his advisors to do favors [or ‘acts of goodness’] for us and for all Israel, our brethren.”    Knowing that this supremely powerful monarch could essentially do as he wished with the Jewish people, the only hope for the Jewish community was to pray for him to be compassionate.  The fate of the Jewish community depended not upon “rights,” but upon the “_tovot_” – “favors” that the ruling authorities could choose to grant to them.

This prayer summed up the relationship between Jewish communities and the non-Jewish authorities quite well, for hundreds of years.  But in the second half of the 18th century, the situation began to change.  The change came first in French synagogues, where some communities began, after the French Revolution and the emancipation of the Jewish community, to recite a new form of the Prayer for the Government that was not focused on the King as an individual.

But it was in the United States that many Jews came to realize that their assumptions about their relationship with the government needed to be thoroughly revised.  We see evidence of these revisions in prayer customs and prayerbooks almost immediately after American independence.

The Jewish community in Colonial America was tiny.  In the New York area, the only synagogue was Shearith Israel – the Spanish and Portuguese Synagogue.  Thankfully, that community, which still exists today, preserved very good records of their liturgical practice.  Soon after the Declaration of Independence in 1776, there was a change in liturgical practice at Shearith Israel.  While they did not change the text of the prayer for the government, they decided that henceforth, instead of standing up for that prayer, now they would sit down.  This itself communicates a difference about the model of government and the Jewish relationship to power:  In the new United States, Jews can respect the government without having to resort to flattery of its leaders.[1]

Another early American siddur, written by Solomon Henry Jackson in 1826, contains two different versions of the prayer:  one version for when Congress is in session, and a different version for when Congress is on recess.  The difference is, when Congress is in recess, they aren’t your leaders, so there’s no reason to pray for them.  This could be understood as an additional demonstration of a non-hierarchical and non-deferential relationship with the ruling authorities.  Additionally, the Jackson siddur version includes a line blessing “the people.”  What had always been a prayer for the King and a prayer for the Government was now being transformed into a prayer for the Country.

+-----------------------------------------------------------------------+
| []                                                                    |
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------+
| Sefardic prayerbook of Solomon Henry Jackson, NYC, 1826               |
|                                                                       |
| (scan from agmk.blogspot.com)                                         |
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------+

While there have been multiple versions of the Prayer for the Government in American siddurim, one version that has stood the test of time and has actually been reproduced, very close to the original, in every official Conservative and Reconstructionist prayerbook for the past 85 years.  This is the prayer by Rabbi Louis Ginzberg of the Jewish Theological Seminary, composed back in 1927 for the _Fesival Prayer Book,_ the first liturgical publication of the Conservative Movement.

Ginzberg’s prayer reflects a growing realization that the United States is a different kind of Diaspora.  The leaders of the United States were not rulers to be feared.  Jews in the United States were not an oppressed and barely tolerated minority.   Rather, Jews were invited to be full partners in this society, to come to the table to help to make decisions, to shape its policy, and culture, and values.  In the United States, Jews do not need to pray merely that the rulers will show fairness and compassion to the Jews.  Rather, a prayer for the United States should convey that this is a society of which the Jewish community is an integral and valued part, and that this society upholds – at least in theory, and often in practice – values that we passionately uphold, such as liberty for all people, and tolerance of dissent.  The overwhelming agenda of Rabbi Ginzberg’s prayer is to show that the United States is made up of diverse ethnicities and religions, and to pray that these different races and creeds will get along and establish a society based on tolerance and freedom.

This country has numerous imperfections.  We continually strive to make it ever more just and ever more equal.  But sometimes it takes a glance at a _siddur_ from 1914 to remind me just how different, just how unprecedented, the American Jewish experience has been in the sweep of Jewish history, and how gratefully I ask for God's blessings for this country.

[]

[]

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[1] Jonathan Sarna, “Jewish Prayers for the U.S. Government: A Study in the Liturgy of Politics and the Politics of Liturgy,” in Karen Halttunen and Lewis Perry, ed., _Moral Problems In American Life:  New Perspectives On Cultural History_ (Cornell University Press, 1998),  p. 206.

question: Why would the Jews pray for leaders that persecuted them?

answer: It could have been to curry favor with the king. Jews tended to rely upon the king to ensure their safety, and in fact, Jews tended to fare better in places where the king was strong. Some believe that the prayer is recited, and printed in the prayerbook, simply to ensure that no one could accuse the Jews of disloyalty.

question: How does the change in the prayer reflect the lived experience of US Jews?

answer: Ginzberg’s prayer reflects a growing realization that the United States is a different kind of Jewish Diaspora.  The leaders of the United States were not rulers to be feared.  Jews in the United States were not an oppressed and barely tolerated minority. Rather, a prayer for the United States should convey that this is a society in which the Jewish community is an integral and valued part.


text:
TAIPEI -- California-based Applied Materials, the world's top chip and display equipment maker, has ordered staff to halt all deliveries and servicing for China's biggest LED chip maker, who was named on a red flag list recently issued by the U.S. government.

Xiamen San'an Optoelectronics is one of at least three Chinese customers of Applied Materials who were identified on the U.S. government's "unverified list," people with knowledge of the situation told Nikkei Asian Review. While the list does not embargo dealings with these entities, it requires American companies to treat them with caution. U.S. suppliers can no longer use existing licences to sell them products or service installed equipment, but have to reapply for new ones. San'an Optoelectronics is also the world's biggest LED chipmaker by revenue and listed in Shanghai.

Xi'an Jiaotong University, one of China's top 15 colleges, and a unit of Chinese Academy of Sciences, the country's top research agency, are also Applied Materials customers named on the unverified list, which was published on April 11, a supply chain source familiar with the move said. Some 37 Chinese companies and research institutions were named on the list, as well as seven organizations in Hong Kong, four in the United Arab Emirates, two in Malaysia and one in Indonesia.

The U.S. government's move marks another setback to the companies and research institutions who are crucial to China's ambitions to become a global tech superpower.

Applied Materials supplies almost all the world's leading semiconductor and panel manufacturers. Market leaders such as Intel, Samsung Electronics, Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Co, and China's national display champion BOE Technology Group could not make products without the company's tool and services.

As an industry leader in advanced tools for the critical semiconductor industry, Applied Materials' decision to immediately stop all business with those on the list could influence other U.S. vendors, as well as those outside the country, industry sources told Nikkei.

On April 12, Applied Materials sent a notice to all staff involved with the named companies that they should "immediately stop all pending and future equipment delivery, and cease all service activities at their sites," according to the notice obtained by Nikkei. The U.S. chip tool giant also demanded that staff, contractors and other personnel immediately withdraw from the sites of those companies, the notice said.

The notice warned that failure to follow this compliance could lead to significant violations of U.S. trade law.

The company's actions come just weeks after Applied Materials' CEO Gary Dickerson traveled to China in late March to attend SEMICON China, one of the industry's biggest events and an important showcase for Chinese technology ever since Beijing made chip industry development a top policy priority in 2014.

At the event, Dickerson made his first clear and public statement about the U.S.-China trade tensions which have hit the chip industry hard. "The strained relationship between China and the U.S. can put decades of economic growth at risk," Dickerson said. He also warned it would be "a lose-lose proposition" if the world's two biggest economic powers were unable to get along.

Applied Materials generated some 26% of its revenue from China, its biggest market, in the most recent quarter ending Jan. 27. The U.S. company did not immediately respond to a request for comments. San'an also did not respond to the request for comments.

China's commerce ministry spokesman Gao Feng last week hit back at the new unverified list, saying the U.S. move could harm Chinese companies' reputation and disrupt normal trade activities. Beijing said it objected to the abuse of national security and export control rules and demanded the U.S. withdraw the new curbs as soon as possible.

Akin Gump, an international law firm, warned companies in a research note that they would have to respond to the requirements of the unverified list. "As a result of this development, U.S. and non-U.S. companies and others should update their internal control program screens to ensure compliance with the new requirements," the research note said.

Harry Clark, a partner with Orrick, Herrington & Sutcliffe LLP in Washington, told Nikkei that being added to the unverified list does not mean a broad ban on U.S. exports and re-exports to the entity, but it would need to obtain extra licences and file additional reports if dealing with such entities. It also applies to foreign persons.

"My firm advises clients to be especially careful to ensure that any export or re-export involving an unverified list entity is scrupulously compliant with the regulation," Clark said.

_Nikkei staff writer Lauly Li contributed to this report._

question: What is the purpose of the U.S red flag list?

answer: The red flag list seems to be for the purpose of highlighting companies that need to be treated with caution. It appears to be being used to setback China's ambitions to be a global tech superpower.

question: Why is China a threat to the US economically?

question: How does the Chinese company feel about being red listed?

answer: They feel as though it could malign their reputation and cause disruption to trade. They feel it's an abuse of export control and could lead to an economic downturn.

question: What is the consequence of Xiamen San'an Optoelectronics being redlisted?

answer: The loss of readily available LED chip supplies from their main manufacturer could have implications when it comes to trade and technological manufacturing in the U.S.


text:
He held the pack of cigarettes out to her, but he knew she’d decline. She’d given that habit up a long time ago. They zoned out of the gray noise of the traffic passing by them, time began to slow. It was a bleak sunday morning, the anniversary of an event neither of them could find the courage to recall.

They stood in silence, as if they occupied two different worlds. After all, there was nothing left for them to say. She looked down at him, she had always been slightly taller than he was. She couldn’t meet his upward gaze, like a weak magnet facing a stronger one, she found she couldn’t bring them close enough to meet. She wondered if he thought about their friendship anymore, but she could never bring herself to ask. Why would she? She didn’t particularly want to know the answer, anyway, nor did she think he’d even have one to offer. She wished she could express how much she cared about him without it coming off as desperate. She saw him take a long drag of his cigarette. The thick smoke filled his lungs, and as she watched, the back of her throat began to burn. It was a phantom pain that she couldn’t forget. Turning away from him, she shut her eyes tightly, trying to force the image out of her mind.

He wasn’t ever really sure how or why she ever forgave him for what happened - he didn’t really know how or why he forgave her, either. He held no malice, it was in the past - but he never knew if she was happy when he was around anymore. Something about her presence made him long for his perceived vision of happiness, the fictive memories of nights they never shared. He thought about the wedding - or to be more precise, the wedding cut short. Deep down, he knew that it could’ve gone more smoothly. They had some bumps in the road, but he never thought that it could go so wrong so quickly. He tried to translate his emotions into words, but he couldn’t. There was nothing left for them to say.

It occurred to her that the very place that they met was in a way a physical reminder of what happened. They had driven by here together a countless number of times: on their way to school, to the wedding.... No, she couldn’t think about it now. There were dozens of couples who came here to talk. She had to remain strong. She had brought flowers with her, the same kind she’d bought him so long ago. She dropped them on the ground in front of him and turned to walk away. Tears began to collect in her eyes: she wished she could stay to talk, but she knew she couldn’t. There was nothing left for them to say.
He stepped in front of her, but she seemed to walk right through him. He couldn’t help it: he leaned forward to kiss her. She kept walking, tears ran from her eyes. He tried to talk to her: he ran besides her as she walked back to her car. She didn’t seem to notice. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words, physically incapable of talking to her. He reached out his hand to place it on her shoulder, but it passed right through her.

Another car had pulled over behind hers, its owner seemed to be fixing a flat. She fumbled with her keys to unlock the door, Traffic raced by on the freeway as she got in and turned on the engine. She shot the roadside grave one more remorseful glance before she drove away. She wished she could just see him one more time, but she knew that it couldn’t happen. Besides, it had been so long since the accident - three years today - an anniversary, of sorts. What would they even talk about? There was nothing left for them to say.

title: [MF] Nothing Left to Say

question: Summarize the tension in the story.

answer: Something happened that the author does not explain, but it has created a sort of wanting and a desperation between them. It also seems there was a wedding between them, but it's obscure whether or not it was theirs. The author also talks about an accident. It happened three years ago but the story does not delve into any details whatsoever.

question: Summarize the events of the accident.

question: Explain the girl's feelings for the boy.

answer: The girl seems to want desperately to make up, but she stays rooted in their reality: there is nothing left to say, not after the inexplicable thing that happened three years prior to this scene. The boy seems to be hasty and to want to fix things by exploring the physicality of their lingering feelings, as he attempts to kiss her. The girl wants to reject him in the moment and remain in her feelings, in the past. They are, as she thinks, explicitly, in two entirely different worlds-despite their standing together at present.

question: Summarize the theme of the story.

answer: One prominent theme is missed opportunities and forgiveness. The two go hand-in-hand in this story; both characters need to forgive the reasons now wafting around the ghosts of missed opportunities. Both characters have missed the opportunity to forgive and to be forgiven, and now they are stagnating in a place where it's not made clear by the directives or cues of the other whether or not one of both of them was in the wrong.


text:
[Custer County] CUSTER COUNTY is a county in the U.S. state of Nebraska. As of the 2010 United States Census, the population was 10,939.[1] Its county seat is Broken Bow.[2] The county was formed in 1877[3] and named after General George Armstrong Custer,[4] who was killed at the Battle of Little Bighorn.

In the Nebraska license plate system, Custer County is represented by the prefix 4 (it had the fourth-largest number of vehicles registered in the county when the license plate system was established in 1922).

Geography

According to the US Census Bureau, the county has a total area of , of which is land and (0.01%) is water.[5] In area, it is the second largest county in Nebraska, behind only Cherry County.

Major highways

-   [] U.S. Highway 183
-   [] Nebraska Highway 2
-   [] Nebraska Highway 21
-   [] Nebraska Highway 40
-   [] Nebraska Highway 47
-   [] Nebraska Highway 70
-   [] Nebraska Highway 92

Adjacent counties

-   Valley County – northeast
-   Sherman County – southeast
-   Buffalo County – southeast
-   Dawson County – south
-   Lincoln County – southwest
-   Logan County – west
-   Blaine County – northwest
-   Loup County – northeast

Demographics

As of the 2000 United States Census,[6] there were 11,793 people, 4,826 households, and 3,320 families in the county. The population density was 5 people per square mile (2/km²). There were 5,585 housing units at an average density of 2 per square mile (1/km²). The racial makeup of the county was 98.63% White, 0.07% Black or African American, 0.41% Native American, 0.15% Asian, 0.20% from other races, and 0.55% from two or more races. 0.92% of the population were Hispanic or Latino of any race. 37.3% were of German, 11.9% English, 10.6% Irish and 8.9% American ancestry.

There were 4,826 households, out of which 30.30% had children under the age of 18 living with them, 60.90% were married couples living together, 5.40% had a female householder with no husband present, and 31.20% were non-families. 28.90% of all households were made up of individuals, and 15.00% had someone living alone who was 65 years of age or older. The average household size was 2.39 and the average family size was 2.95.

The county population contained 26.30% under the age of 18, 5.50% from 18 to 24, 23.50% from 25 to 44, 23.70% from 45 to 64, and 21.10% who were 65 years of age or older. The median age was 41 years. For every 100 females there were 96.10 males. For every 100 females age 18 and over, there were 91.70 males.

The median income for a household in the county was $30,677, and the median income for a family was $37,063. Males had a median income of $24,609 versus $19,732 for females. The per capita income for the county was $16,171. About 9.10% of families and 12.40% of the population were below the poverty line, including 16.20% of those under age 18 and 9.10% of those age 65 or over.

Communities

Cities

-   Broken Bow (county seat)
-   Sargent

Villages

-   Anselmo
-   Ansley
-   Arnold
-   Berwyn
-   Callaway
-   Comstock
-   Mason City
-   Merna
-   Oconto

Census-designated place

-   Westerville

Unincorporated communities

-   Cumro
-   Etna
-   Finchville
-   Gates
-   Lillian
-   Lodi
-   Milburn
-   New Helena
-   Round Valley
-   Walworth
-   Weissert
-   Wescott

Townships

-   Algernon
-   Ansley
-   Arnold
-   Berwyn
-   Broken Bow
-   Cliff
-   Comstock
-   Corner
-   Custer
-   Delight
-   Douglas Grove
-   East Custer
-   Elim
-   Elk Creek
-   Garfield
-   Grant
-   Hayes
-   Kilfoil
-   Lillian
-   Loup
-   Milburn
-   Myrtle
-   Ryno
-   Sargent
-   Spring Creek
-   Triumph
-   Victoria
-   Wayne
-   Westerville
-   West Union
-   Wood River

Politics

Custer County voters are reliably Republican. In no national election since 1936 has the county selected the Democratic Party candidate.

  Year                               Republican                                  Democratic                                  Third Parties
  ---------------------------------- ------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------- ----------------------------
  style=“text-align:center;” |2016   style=“text-align:center;” |83.1% _4,695_   style=“text-align:center;” |11.3% _641_     5.6% _316_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2012   style=“text-align:center;” |78.1% _4,296_   style=“text-align:center;” |19.7% _1,083_   2.2% _119_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2008   style=“text-align:center;” |77.1% _4,301_   style=“text-align:center;” |21.4% _1,192_   1.5% _85_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2004   style=“text-align:center;” |80.5% _4,518_   style=“text-align:center;” |18.5% _1,040_   1.0% _54_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2000   style=“text-align:center;” |78.4% _4,245_   style=“text-align:center;” |18.0% _976_     3.6% _193_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1996   style=“text-align:center;” |64.2% _3,453_   style=“text-align:center;” |24.0% _1,293_   11.8% _637_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1992   style=“text-align:center;” |54.6% _3,180_   style=“text-align:center;” |19.4% _1,126_   26.0% _1,514_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1988   style=“text-align:center;” |73.4% _4,203_   style=“text-align:center;” |26.1% _1,496_   0.5% _27_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1984   style=“text-align:center;” |80.9% _4,749_   style=“text-align:center;” |18.6% _1,090_   0.5% _28_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1980   style=“text-align:center;” |76.9% _4,563_   style=“text-align:center;” |17.0% _1,011_   6.1% _360_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1976   style=“text-align:center;” |63.7% _3,935_   style=“text-align:center;” |32.2% _1,985_   4.1% _255_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1972   style=“text-align:center;” |80.8% _4,836_   style=“text-align:center;” |19.2% _1,147_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1968   style=“text-align:center;” |70.5% _4,325_   style=“text-align:center;” |22.9% _1,407_   6.5% _401_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1964   style=“text-align:center;” |53.0% _3,916_   style=“text-align:center;” |47.0% _3,475_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1960   style=“text-align:center;” |70.9% _5,716_   style=“text-align:center;” |29.1% _2,350_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1956   style=“text-align:center;” |70.5% _5,798_   style=“text-align:center;” |29.5% _2,425_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1952   style=“text-align:center;” |77.2% _7,143_   style=“text-align:center;” |22.8% _2,113_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1948   style=“text-align:center;” |54.7% _4,057_   style=“text-align:center;” |45.3% _3,356_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1944   style=“text-align:center;” |61.6% _5,330_   style=“text-align:center;” |38.4% _3,321_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1940   style=“text-align:center;” |59.7% _6,269_   style=“text-align:center;” |40.3% _4,238_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1936   style=“text-align:center;” |45.7% _5,250_   style=“text-align:center;” |51.4% _5,907_   2.9% _338_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1932   style=“text-align:center;” |35.7% _3,953_   style=“text-align:center;” |61.7% _6,844_   2.6% _289_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1928   style=“text-align:center;” |76.4% _8,379_   style=“text-align:center;” |22.9% _2,506_   0.8% _82_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1924   style=“text-align:center;” |40.0% _3,833_   style=“text-align:center;” |26.8% _2,575_   33.2% _3,187_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1920   style=“text-align:center;” |59.3% _4,974_   style=“text-align:center;” |32.7% _2,739_   8.0% _674_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1916   style=“text-align:center;” |34.2% _2,047_   style=“text-align:center;” |60.4% _3,609_   5.4% _322_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1912   style=“text-align:center;” |18.2% _1,051_   style=“text-align:center;” |41.5% _2,395_   40.3% _2,330_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1908   style=“text-align:center;” |47.0% _2,788_   style=“text-align:center;” |48.9% _2,898_   4.1% _245_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1904   style=“text-align:center;” |59.6% _2,658_   style=“text-align:center;” |11.4% _509_     29.0% _1,292_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1900   style=“text-align:center;” |47.2% _2,145_   style=“text-align:center;” |47.5% _2,159_   5.2% _237_

  : PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION RESULTS[7]

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4] 1 Retrieved on March 14, 2008.

[5]

[6]

[7] Election Results

title: Custer County, Nebraska

question: What alternate name could the county have been given?

answer: It may be implied that the county could have been named George County or Armstrong County after the General.

question: Summarize the license plating system of the county.

answer: Under the Nebraska license plate system, the county is represented by the prefix 4 since it had the fourth-largest number of vehicles registered when the system was established in 1922.

question: Summarize the demographics of the county.

answer: As of 2000, the county had 11,793 people with the Whites dominating the racial makeup at 98.63%. About 26.3% of the county was under the age of 18 while the median age was 41 years. On average, a household earned $30,677.


text:
README.md for version 8.0 of Vim: Vi IMproved. [Build Status] [Coverage Status] [Coverage Status] [Appveyor Build status] [Coverity Scan]

What is Vim?

Vim is a greatly improved version of the good old UNIX editor Vi. Many new features have been added: multi-level undo, syntax highlighting, command line history, on-line help, spell checking, filename completion, block operations, script language, etc. There is also a Graphical User Interface (GUI) available. Still, Vi compatibility is maintained, those who have Vi "in the fingers" will feel at home. See runtime/doc/vi_diff.txt for differences with Vi.

This editor is very useful for editing programs and other plain text files. All commands are given with normal keyboard characters, so those who can type with ten fingers can work very fast. Additionally, function keys can be mapped to commands by the user, and the mouse can be used.

Vim runs under MS-Windows (NT, 2000, XP, Vista, 7, 8, 10), Macintosh, VMS and almost all flavours of UNIX. Porting to other systems should not be very difficult. Older versions of Vim run on MS-DOS, MS-Windows 95/98/Me, Amiga DOS, Atari MiNT, BeOS, RISC OS and OS/2. These are no longer maintained.

Distribution

You can often use your favorite package manager to install Vim. On Mac and Linux a small version of Vim is pre-installed, you still need to install Vim if you want more features.

There are separate distributions for Unix, PC, Amiga and some other systems. This README.md file comes with the runtime archive. It includes the documentation, syntax files and other files that are used at runtime. To run Vim you must get either one of the binary archives or a source archive. Which one you need depends on the system you want to run it on and whether you want or must compile it yourself. Check http://www.vim.org/download.php for an overview of currently available distributions.

Some popular places to get the latest Vim:

-   Check out the git repository from github.
-   Get the source code as an archive.
-   Get a Windows executable from the vim-win32-installer repository.

Compiling

If you obtained a binary distribution you don't need to compile Vim. If you obtained a source distribution, all the stuff for compiling Vim is in the src directory. See src/INSTALL for instructions.

Installation

See one of these files for system-specific instructions. Either in the READMEdir directory (in the repository) or the top directory (if you unpack an archive):

    README_ami.txt       Amiga
    README_unix.txt     Unix
    README_dos.txt      MS-DOS and MS-Windows
    README_mac.txt      Macintosh
    README_vms.txt      VMS

There are other README_*.txt files, depending on the distribution you used.

Documentation

The Vim tutor is a one hour training course for beginners. Often it can be started as vimtutor. See :help tutor for more information.

The best is to use :help in Vim. If you don't have an executable yet, read runtime/doc/help.txt. It contains pointers to the other documentation files. The User Manual reads like a book and is recommended to learn to use Vim. See :help user-manual.

Copying

Vim is Charityware. You can use and copy it as much as you like, but you are encouraged to make a donation to help orphans in Uganda. Please read the file runtime/doc/uganda.txt for details (do :help uganda inside Vim).

Summary of the license: There are no restrictions on using or distributing an unmodified copy of Vim. Parts of Vim may also be distributed, but the license text must always be included. For modified versions a few restrictions apply. The license is GPL compatible, you may compile Vim with GPL libraries and distribute it.

Sponsoring

Fixing bugs and adding new features takes a lot of time and effort. To show your appreciation for the work and motivate Bram and others to continue working on Vim please send a donation.

Since Bram is back to a paid job the money will now be used to help children in Uganda. See runtime/doc/uganda.txt. But at the same time donations increase Bram's motivation to keep working on Vim!

For the most recent information about sponsoring look on the Vim web site: http://www.vim.org/sponsor/

Contributing

If you would like to help making Vim better, see the CONTRIBUTING.md file.

Information

The latest news about Vim can be found on the Vim home page: http://www.vim.org/

If you have problems, have a look at the Vim documentation or tips: http://www.vim.org/docs.php http://vim.wikia.com/wiki/Vim_Tips_Wiki

If you still have problems or any other questions, use one of the mailing lists to discuss them with Vim users and developers: http://www.vim.org/maillist.php

If nothing else works, report bugs directly: Bram Moolenaar Bram@vim.org

Main author

Send any other comments, patches, flowers and suggestions to: Bram Moolenaar Bram@vim.org

question: What does the article say about what Vim is?

answer: Vim is a greatly improved version of the good old UNIX editor Vi. Many new features have been added: multi-level undo, syntax highlighting, command line history, on-line help, spell checking, filename completion, block operations, script language, etc. This editor is very useful for editing programs and other plain text files. All commands are given with normal keyboard characters, so those who can type with ten fingers can work very fast.

question: What does the article say about donating?

answer: The article asks the readers to donate to motivate Bram and others to continue working on Vim. Money will be used to help children in Uganda. They give a link that will provide the most recent information about sponsoring.

question: What does the article say about the price of Vim?