#Frank Sinatra souvenir | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pauline-lewis · 2 years

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Will you have one on me ?

Cette semaine, j'ai vu la dernière saison de Never have I ever et en voyant le personnage jouer de la harpe, j'ai pensé à Joanna Newsom. À sa musique qui m'évoque tellement de souvenirs heureux — le délice de tomber amoureuse de Bridges and Balloons et de la personne qui me l'avait envoyée dans le même mouvement, assise dans le jardin — et de larmes aussi — pleurer aux Bouffes du Nord pendant Have one on me au moment précis où elle chante When you held me in your arms and I knew that nobody could love me as you love. La transe de cette chanson me prend toujours quelque part dans les marécages de mon imagination. Un crocodile cherchant de la chair fraîche. Elle me fait nager là, tout au fond. Les yeux rivés vers les étoiles chères au cœur d'Emily (la Emily de Joanna mais aussi la mienne, Emily Dickinson, amie imaginaire chère à mon cœur). Joanna Newsom est l'une des étoiles qui brille le plus fort dans ma galaxie. Sa voix, ses mots, cette fréquence qui n'appartient qu'à elle.

En cherchant ce qu'elle fait en ce moment, j'ai trouvé pas mal d'articles faisant référence à elle comme "une fée". Les femmes sont ainsi, des fées, irréelles, fragiles. Quand elles ont de l'imagination, un univers complexe, elles sont soit ça, soit des sorcières. Ça dépend si elles sont blondes et belles. Moi j'ai arpenté la discographie de Joanna Newsom dans tous les sens, même si évidemment mon disque préféré reste Ys, pour ses textes qui me font pleurer et ses envolées célestes. Sa musique n'est pas féérique mais réelle, c'est un voyage initiatique dans des émotions qu'on ne connaît pas vraiment, qui n'ont pas de contours, qui n'existent même pas avant qu'on les entende sous cette forme. Celles qui émergent quand on fait deux pas à gauche après la mélancolie et qu'on tourne à gauche en direction de la tristesse. Qui se nichent dans les entre-deux, quand on se réveille d'un rêve étrange avec l'esprit plongé dans la brume. Moi quand je l'écoute j'effleure les murs froids d'un château étrange, je touche du doigt les étoiles brûlantes, je suis sur ma couverture dans l'herbe à regarder les astres mourir, je suis dans mon propre corps à chercher le rythme de mon cœur, je suis sur un cheval au galop et j'ai peur. Je vais tellement haut, mais tellement bas aussi — il n'y a pas de bons disques qui ne m'emmènent pas là. Tout au fond, au cœur des émotions noires. Je vais dans la colère, dans la joie, dans la forêt humide et mystérieuse. Une fée peut-être, mais une fée bien vénère.

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A Little Touch of Schmilsson in the Night de Harry Nilsson

J'ai toujours adoré les albums qui reprennent des standards, j'aime bien les empiler comme un mille-feuille. La chanson It had to be you a par exemple traversé les années à mes côtés. Chantée par Sinatra bien sûr, telle qu'utilisée à la fin de Quand Harry rencontre Sally. Quand, sorti regarder les vitrines de Noël, Harry voit un couple s'embrasser et qu'il sait. Cette scène de réalisation amoureuse m'a toujours émerveillée et cette chanson y est pour beaucoup. Elle regarde tristement les ballons tomber, il hèle un taxi, et j'ai beau avoir vu ce film 100 fois, je me demande toujours s'ils vont finir par se retrouver. S'il va arriver à temps pour sa grande tirade. Et c'est la voix grave, vibrante et langoureuse de Sinatra qui appuie sur ce besoin de voir les amants se retrouver.

Et puis il y a eu une version de Lisa Ekdahl que je me passais en boucle étant adolescente. Elle était plus joyeuse, parce que la chanteuse avait ce sourire discret dans la voix, comme si elle tordait un peu ses paroles très premier degré. Et Billie Holiday, Ray Charles... La semaine dernière, toujours tandis que je cherchais des news de Joanna Newsom, je suis tombée sur un article sur Van Dyke Parks (qui a fait les arrangements sur Ys — tout cela a un sens je vous le jure) qui mentionnait un disque d'Harry Nilsson dont j'ignorais tout. Il est sorti en 1973, à l'époque où les disques de reprises de standard pour des artistes issus du folk/pop/rock n'était pas encore monnaie courante. Nilsson a donc sorti ce disque magnifique, qui reprend tous mes standards préférés and then some avec ces arrangements de cordes qui font fondre mon cœur. Tout le monde pensait qu'il allait se planter, mais pas du tout. Si votre mood imaginaire préféré c'est chiller avec un verre de whisky dans votre appartement avec vue sur l'Empire State Building alors qu'en fait vous êtes en pyjama à écrire un article de blog avec une tasse de thé (vous n'aime pas le whisky), alors ce disque est pour vous.

Bell, Book and Candle (Richard Quine, 1958)

Je suis contractuellement obligée d'aimer un film avec : Kim Novak en tenues léopard / Jack Lemmon qui joue des bongos / James Stewart / un film en Technicolor. Bell, Book and Candle est un film mignon mais aussi très mélancolique sur une sorcière qui séduit son voisin du dessus. Elle ne le fait pas vraiment parce qu'elle a envie de se marier, mais simplement parce qu'il lui plait. Cependant, elle a peur de tomber amoureuse puisqu'elle perdrait ses pouvoirs magiques et donc son identité. Elle décide de l'envoûter le jour de Noël pour empêcher son mariage à une de ses anciennes rivales.

C'est un film sur l'engagement, sur ce que les femmes perdent en se mariant (leur particularité et leur indépendance, nous dit le film), mais c'est aussi un film sur la vulnérabilité. Sur la peur de ne pas être aimé·e, sur ce que l'on craint quand on laisse les gens nous voir pour tout ce que nous sommes. Je pensais que j'allais être agacée par le film mais j'étais vraiment émue par le personnage de Novak, même si j'ai ressenti une pointe de tristesse à la fin sur tout ce que le personnage abandonne pour avoir son happy end (son indépendance mais aussi ses tenues goths et son chat — cela dit elle abandonne son commerce d'appropriation culturelle pour vendre des fleurs et des coquillages, good for her). Et visuellement, bien sûr, le film est sublime, la photographie, le technicolor, les effets spéciaux super inventifs bien que discrets, la manière dont Kim Novak (et son chat) sont éclairé·es. Et Jack Lemmon ! Je n'en finis jamais de l'adorer, lui et ses mimiques merveilleuses.

Toute une moitié du monde d'Alice Zeniter (Éditions Flammarion)

C'est drôle parce que j'ai payé ce livre sur la passion de la lecture avec ma cagnotte fidélité à la librairie (bon, moi je trouve ça drôle, vous en faites ce que vous en voulez). Le dernier Alice Zeniter est à mi-chemin entre l'essai et le récit personnel, ça parle du roman et de la fiction, de comment les faire évoluer avec l'époque et de ce qu'on peut en attendre, ça parle d'avoir choisi la voie de l'écriture et puis ça raconte aussi l'expérience de Zeniter d'être une femme dans le merveilleux monde de la littérature.

À la fin du récit, elle explique qu'elle a voulu que ce livre soit une balade et je l'ai vécu exactement comme ça. J'avais l'impression de regarder avec elle les livres de sa bibliothèque, de discuter le long de la plage de Lady Chatterley, de Faulkner, de Julia Kerninon. Cette impression de camaraderie naît évidemment d'une passion commune pour la lecture mais aussi de son humour formidable. Je n'ai résisté à aucune de ses punchline en notes de bas de page et je me suis retrouvée à rire tout fort plus d'une fois. J'admire la manière dont ce livre arrive à être profond mais aussi très sérieux. Et même si elle explique certaines choses que je savais déjà (sur le volet féminisme et littérature), elle apporte un regard tellement intéressant que j'en ai quand même retiré beaucoup de choses. Elle parle de féminisme, de représentation, de vivre avec des personnages, d'écrire alors que le monde va si mal, d'écrire autrement, des héros (masculin intended) de notre enfance. Lu d'une traite et je pense que j'y reviendrai !

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#Joanna Newsom #Harry Nilsson #Alice Zeniter #bell book and candle #Youtube

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famouswallart · 2 years

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His voice made FRANK SINATRA immortal! This artwork will always remind you of him!

Brand new artwork of the late FRANK SINATRA!

On textile in stretcher frame!

Top quality!

In XXL format 20x30 inches = 75x50 cm!

Signed by the artist on the original!

Discovered at "Palm Springs Vintage Market" in Palm Springs, CA 92262/ USA!

E: [email protected]

THE ORIGINAL ARTWORK IS SOLD! YET, YOU C A N GET THIS MASTERPIECE FOR YOUR HOME! But: Quality has its price! GBP. 79.95 / CAD 127.95 / US$ 99.95 F R E E shipping by courier with tracking to the U.K., Canada, and the U.S., respectively!

The late FRANK SINATRA was besides his successful career as a singer and film actor also productive as a painter. His (mostly romantic) artworks fetched top prices at auction by New York auction house Sotheby`s on October 8, 2018!

A "must-have!" for all fans of the late Frank Sinatra!

Cool star souvenir that stands out!

Extravagant collector's item!

A real eye-catcher!

But also, a super gift for birthdays, Valentine's Day, Easter and Pentecost, Mother's Day and Father's Day, Confirmation and Holy Communion, engagement and wedding, Christmas and Hanukkah!

FRANK SINATRA died on May 14, 1998 and is buried here: Gravesite B-8, #1151, Desert Memorial Park, 31705 Da Vall Dr., Cathedral City, CA 92234/ USA.

#Frank Sinatra artwork #Gifts for Mama and Papa #Gifts for Christmas #Wall decoration #Famous artworks #Romantic gifts #My Home

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revmaddod · 11 months

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Forgotten gems 9 The 78rpm record show

mong my souvenirs Frank SinatraColumbia September songFrank SinatraFrom the movie Knickerbacker HolidayColumbia If I loved youFrank SinatraColumbia You’ll never walk aloneFrank SinatraColumbia It’s the same old dreamFrank SinatraColumbia The Brooklyn BridgeFrank SinatraColumbia Nature, boyFrank SinatraWith Alexander choirColumbia S’PosenFrank Sinatra, Columbia For every man, there’s a womanFrank SinatraColumbia The stars will rememberFrank SinatraColumbia Christmas dreamingFrank SinatraColumbia MaybeInk spotsDecca Into each live rain must fallInk spots with Ella FitzgeraldDecca I’m making believeInk spots with Ella FitzgeraldDecca Pork chops and gravyInk spotsDecca Brown galInk spotsDecca Prisoner of loveInk spotsDecca

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decoracionllamativa · 2 years

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¡Frank Sinatra decoración de pared! ¡Obra de arte! ¡Espécimen único de EE.UU.! Recuerdo. Adorno de pared. Atrae la atención. Idea para regalar. ¡NUEVO!

¡SOUVENIR UNICO DE FRANK SINATRA!

¡El collage original no está a la venta!

¡Única impresión de arte de alta definición en el textil en la camilla!

¡La mejor calidad!

¡En formato XXL 75x50 cm!

¡Triplemente firmado en el original por el difunto FRANK SINATRA!

¡Descubierta en "Palm Springs Vintage Market" en Palm Springs, CA 92262/ USA!

E: [email protected]

APENAS EURO 54,95. - ENVIO GRÁTIS POR CORREIO COM PROVA DE ENTREGA!

¡La obra de arte de la izquierda muestra su pintura "Clown" de 1990, subastada el 8 de octubre de 2018 por la casa de subastas de Nueva York Sotheby`s por 93.750 dólares!

La obra de arte de la derecha muestra su pintura "Flower" de 1980, propiedad no vendida de la Frank Sinatra Collection USA.

El collage firmado debajo de ambas obras es un homenaje al difunto Frank Sinatra y a su éxito mundial "Fly Me to the Moon".

Esta es su oportunidad de poseer una obra de arte única de FRANK SINATRA.

¡Un "must-have!" para todos los fans del difunto Frank Sinatra!

¡Un recuerdo genial de la estrella que destaca!

¡Extravagante pieza de coleccionista!

¡Una verdadera atracción para los ojos!

¡Pero también, un súper regalo para cumpleaños, Día de San Valentín, Pascua y Pentecostés, Día de la Madre y Día del Padre, Confirmación y Santa Comunión, compromiso y boda, ¡Navidad y Hanukkah!

FRANK SINATRA falleció el 14 de mayo de 1998 y encontró aquí su última morada: Tumba B-8, #1151, Desert Memorial Park, 31705 Da Vall Dr., Cathedral City, CA 92234/ USA.

#Frank Sinatra impresión de arte #Frank Sinatra arte #Frank Sinatra regalo #Frank Sinatra obra de arte #Frank Sinatra souvenir #Frank Sinatra idea para regalar

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beatlesonline-blog · 1 year

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sirgiant-blog-blog · 1 year

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Oh, what fun!

Have you ever received a photo from someone, maybe on your phone, and the first words you said were, "Oh, what fun!"

Or maybe that was your reaction to a friend telling you a story about a recent adventure.

Maybe it was a photo of someone you love who lives far away. Maybe it was a story of someone you love who is much older now.

Maybe it is about building a snowman, riding a water slide, or sharing a horse on a carousel.

I bet when you hear those stories you smile.

I bet you go to that place and time, if just for a moment, in your mind.

Those "remember the time" stories are precious. They bond you with those in your presence whether they are included in the memory or not.

I bet you laugh when you tell those stories. I bet you touch the other person on the shoulder. I bet you glow inside. I bet they do, too.

When Alex was little, and riding in the passenger seat of our car, I would frequently tell him stories from my past. I was so pleased one day when he asked me to tell him 'another one.'

It meant he was listening. It meant he was 'with me' in his mind as I recalled whatever shenanigans I had been involved in when I was a kid.

I was always going for the laugh. Always editing out any stories of sadness or complete stupidity (a LITTLE stupidity was okay).

As an adult, Alex invited me to come along with him on his trip to New York City in 2016. He was 30 and I was 61 years old. We had been to the city in the past but Alex was always a child. This was the first time I was with him in New York as two adults.

We walked a lot. And I talked a lot.

I gave him the "Dad" tour.

I showed him where my favorite arcade was in Times Square, I showed him where Grandma stood in line to see Frank Sinatra, I showed him Washington Square Park and told him how I wanted to be the next great songwriter like the ones who frequented that park before they were famous, I showed him where his Grandpa worked when he was with the NYPD, I showed him where we stood to watch the Macy's parade, I showed him where I begged Grandpa for a sardine sandwich at Horn & Hardart's and then cried because it was horrible (hey, they said it was fish! I thought they meant TUNA fish!), I told him about the Polar Bear at the Central Park Zoo, I told him about the subway tokens, the vendors who sold salty pretzels, dirty water hotdogs, and Italian ices.

And, yes, when we went to McDonald's I told him that it used to be a peep show and, here comes the cringe, yes I had been there.

I really thought I had been reminiscing too much. At one point I thought, "Oh gosh. I hope I haven't been boring Alex with my constant talking."

The relationship between parent and child is so different when the child is an adult. I no longer held his hand as we crossed the street and maybe he no longer enjoyed hearing my "remember when" stories.

Later that afternoon Alex and I were in our hotel room and he called his wife. I sat by the window watching the 8th Avenue traffic from our fourth floor window. Alex sat on his bed and chatted.

I wasn't eavesdropping. But I heard him say the words, "I couldn't have asked for a better tour guide than my Dad!"

Wow!

I think I teared up. It was a wonderful thing to hear.

All my talking and talking and talking, that I thought was becoming a bit too much, turned out to be the "father and son" moment you only see in the movies.

When I share that story now, it brings a smile, and that warm expression "oh, what fun!"

Robin and I visited Helen, Georgia, a couple of years ago. It was just the two of us and I have such fond memories of that experience.

It's a Bavarian town. Or, at least, it's designed to LOOK like a Bavarian town. Living in Florida it is easy to be dissuaded from doing anything "touristy." But that day, in Helen, I was embracing my "tourist" identity! We both were.

Neither of us had ever been there. So we were creating a brand new memory. A future "remember the time" that only the two of us would share.

We visited the souvenir shops with the tacky t-shirts, the gimmicky snow globes, the "home made" jellies, and the glossy post cards.

We went to a German restaurant and, even though I don't drink beer, I ordered a beer and a large salty pretzel.

And, even though I grew up in New York and had seen those horse drawn carriages (often called the Hansom Cabs), I had never been in one.

But, there, in Helen, Georgia, I noticed a little sign in the window of one of the shops that read, "See Helen from a horse drawn carriage. Half-hour rides only $35."

The resulting ride was magical. It was everything you would hope for. Robin even got to feed a carrot to the horse when we were finished.

I took a video during our ride and there is more than one time in that video when you can hear Robin saying, "Oh, what fun!"

We are so familiar with the song, "Jingle Bells," that we often don't realize that the songwriter, James Lord Pierpont, was actually sharing with all of us a fond memory.

Try to read his words without hearing the melody:

"Dashing through the snow

In a one-horse open sleigh

O'er the fields we go

Laughing all the way

Bells on bob tail ring

Making spirits bright

What fun it is to ride and sing

A sleighing song tonight!

Jingle bells, jingle bells

Jingle all the way

Oh, what fun it is to ride

In a one-horse open sleigh, hey!

Jingle bells, jingle bells

Jingle all the way

Oh, what fun it is to ride

In a one-horse open sleigh!

A day or two ago,

I thought I'd take a ride

And soon, Miss Fanny Bright

Was seated by my side

The horse was lean and lank

Misfortune seemed his lot

He got into a drifted bank

And then we got upsot

Jingle bells, jingle bells

Jingle all the way

Oh, what fun it is to ride

In a one-horse open sleigh, hey!

Jingle bells, jingle bells

Jingle all the way

Oh, what fun it is to ride

In a one-horse open sleigh!

A day or two ago

The story I must tell

I went out on the snow

And on my back I fell

A gent was riding by

In a one-horse open sleigh

He laughed as there I sprawling lie

But quickly drove away

Jingle bells, jingle bells

Jingle all the way

Oh, what fun it is to ride

In a one-horse open sleigh, hey!

Jingle bells, jingle bells

Jingle all the way

Oh, what fun it is to ride

In a one-horse open sleigh!

Now the ground is white

Go it while you're young

Take the girls tonight

And sing this sleighing song

Just get a bobtailed bay

Two forty as his speed

Hitch him to an open sleigh

And crack! You'll take the lead

Jingle bells, jingle bells

Jingle all the way

Oh, what fun it is to ride

In a one-horse open sleigh, hey!

Jingle bells, jingle bells

Jingle all the way

Oh, what fun it is to ride

In a one-horse open sleigh!"

Whoa! What a story! And such great advice: "Go it while you're young"!

He's telling us that he had the time of his life with someone he had a special relationship with! He's telling us that, in spite of having a spill in the snow, the two of them were laughing! He's telling us that he and Fanny Bright were even making fun of the horse a bit.

This is a "remember the time" story! Every year we hear it over and over and we miss this story EVERY TIME.

Don't miss your own story. Don't miss your Grandma's story. Don't miss listening, sharing, laughing, maybe even feeling sad together.

Thanksgiving is Thursday. The people preparing that food, and that get-together, are doing everything to make it perfect.

You will be making memories and you will be sharing memories.

There will be footballs thrown, board games played, photos passed around, toasts made, cigars smoked, gardens visited, recipes shared, dogs stealing food under the table, and maybe, JUST MAYBE, someone will offer to take a walk with JUST YOU, or maybe a ride to the store with JUST YOU, or maybe even a ride in a one-horse open sleigh...with JUST YOU.

Oh, what fun.

I painted this using Procreate with the dry brush.

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alexlacquemanne · 2 years

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Juillet MMXXII

Films

Elvis (2022) de Baz Luhrmann avec Austin Butler, Chaydon Jay, Tom Hanks, Helen Thomson, Richard Roxburgh, Olivia DeJonge et Luke Bracey

Some Came Running (1958) de Vincente Minnelli avec Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Shirley MacLaine, Martha Hyer et Arthur Kennedy

Compartiment tueurs (1965) de Costa-Gavras avec Yves Montand, Jacques Perrin, Catherine Allégret, Pierre Mondy, Jean-Louis Trintignant, Simone Signoret et Charles Denner

Astérix : Le Domaine des dieux (2014) d'Alexandre Astier et Louis Clichy avec Roger Carel, Guillaume Briat, Lorànt Deutsch, Laurent Lafitte, Alexandre Astier et Alain Chabat

Les Figures de l'ombre (Hidden Figures) (2016) de Theodore Melfi avec Taraji P. Henson, Octavia Spencer, Janelle Monáe, Kevin Costner, Kirsten Dunst et Jim Parsons

L'Africain (1983) de Philippe de Broca avec Catherine Deneuve, Philippe Noiret, Jean-François Balmer, Jacques François et Jean Benguigui

Thor: Love and Thunder (2022) de Taika Waititi avec Chris Hemsworth, Tristan Hemsworth, Christian Bale, Natalie Portman, Tessa Thompson et Taika Waititi

Au bout du conte (2013) de Agnès Jaoui avec Agnès Jaoui, Jean-Pierre Bacri, Arthur Dupont, Agathe Bonitzer, Benjamin Biolay et Nina Meurisse

Le Fantôme du Bengale (The Phantom) (1996) de Simon Wincer avec Billy Zane, Kristy Swanson, Treat Williams, James Remar, Catherine Zeta-Jones et Patrick McGoohan

Les Dalton en cavale (1983) de Morris, William Hanna, Joseph Barbera et Ray Patterson avec Jacques Thébault, Roger Carel, Pierre Trabaud, Jacques Balutin et Pierre Tornade

Tous à l'Ouest (2007) d'Olivier Jean-Marie avec Lambert Wilson, Clovis Cornillac, Alexis Tomassian, Christophe Lemoine, Bernard Alane et François Morel

Les Amants du Capricorne (Under Capricorn) (1949) d'Alfred Hitchcock avec Ingrid Bergman, Joseph Cotten, Michael Wilding et Margaret Leighton

ARCA (2022) de Germain et Robin Aguesse avec Gilles Graveleau, Clémence Verniau, Gilles Arbona et Emmanuel Rausenberger

Astérix chez les Bretons (1986) de Pino Van Lamsweerde avec Roger Carel, Pierre Tornade, Graham Bushnell, Serge Sauvion : Jules César et Pierre Mondy

La Chatte sur un toit brûlant (Cat on a Hot Tin Roof) (1958) de Richard Brooks avec Elizabeth Taylor, Paul Newman, Burl Ives et Judith Anderson

Le Seigneur des anneaux (J. R. R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings) (1978) de Ralph Bakshi avec Michel Caccia, Jean Davy, Serge Lhorca, Bernard Dhéran et Georges Poujouly

Signé Furax (1981) de Marc Simenon avec Bernard Haller, Roger Carel, Jean-Pierre Darras, Michel Galabru, Paul Préboist, Jean Le Poulain et Michel Constantin

Séries

Le Coffre à Catch

#79 : CM Punk, MVP du catch ? J'CROIS PAS NAN ! - #80 : Bonne Année de Catch + Balls a disparu = ECW - #81 : Grosse Ambiance, C'est la Maladie, On a l'intro ! - #82 : Kofi Kingston : les Débuts Historiques !

Affaires sensibles

29 septembre 1957, l’accident nucléaire de Maïak ou le silence atomique soviétique - 10 juillet 1976 : La catastrophe de Seveso - 11 Septembre, l'avant (1) - Le 11 septembre 2001, le jour qui a changé le monde (2) - 9/11, l'après : la guerre contre la terreur (3)

Columbo Saison 13

Une étrange association

Commissaire Dupin

Les secrets de Brocéliande

The Grand Tour Saison 4, 3

The Grand Tour présente… Seamen - Spéciale Colombie : Première partie - Spéciale Colombie : Deuxième partie

The Rookie Saison 4

La vie et la mort - Cinq minutes - Dans la ligne de feu - Chaud bouillant

Spectacles

Jazz à Ramatuelle : Hugh Coltman (2018)

Henry Mancini and Friends (1980)

Livres

Les dents de la mer de Peter Benchley

Fairy Tail : Tome 1 de Hiro Mashima

Elfes, Tome 1 : Le Crystal des Elfes bleus de Jean-Luc Istin, Kyko Duarte et Saito

Kaamelott, Tome 6 : Le Duel des Mages d'Alexandre Astier, Benoit Bekaert et Steven Dupré

Astérix, Tome 16 : Astérix chez les Helvètes de René Goscinny et Albert Uderzo

Lucky Luke, Tome 24 : La Fiancée de Lucky Luke de Morris et Guy Vidal

La cage aux souvenirs de Pierre Mondy

Les aventures de Tintin, Tome 8 : Le Sceptre d'Ottokar d'Hergé

#mediatheque #juillet22

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muraislindos · 2 years

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Frank Sinatra: Obras de arte assinadas! Decoração de parede! Lembrança. Apanha-lhos! Ideia de prenda. Decoração. Único!

Adora a voz de Frank Sinatra? Bem, agora pode apreciar a sua voz e a sua arte simultaneamente! Pinte este quadro por ele com aguarelas agora em casa e desfrute de uma obra de arte intemporal!

Estampagem de arte HD única em tecido em maca de alta qualidade em formato XL 75x50 cm!

Assinado no original por o falecido FRANK SINATRA!

Título da obra de arte original "Sem título 1989", criada por o falecido FRANK SINATRA em Rancho Mirage, Califórnia / EUA em 1989.

Descoberto em "Palm Springs Vintage Market" em Palm Springs, CA 892262/ EUA!

E-Mail: [email protected]

ENCOMENDE AGORA MESMO O SEU ÚNICO E FRANCO ORNAMENTO DE PAREDE SINATRA! APENAS EURO 49,95. - ENVIO GRÁTIS POR CORREIO COM PROVA DE ENTREGA!

O falecido FRANK SINATRA foi além da sua carreira de sucesso como cantor e Actor de cinema, também produtivo como pintor. As suas obras de arte (na sua maioria românticas) foram leiloadas pela casa de leilões Sotheby`s de Nova Iorque a 8 de outubro de 2018!

Um "musthave!" para todos os fãs do falecido Frank Sinatra!

Uma lembrança de estrela fixe que se destaca!

Um artigo extravagante de colecionador!

Um verdadeiro apaixonante!

Mas também, um super presente para aniversários, Dia dos Namorados, Páscoa e Pentecostes, Dia da Mãe e Dia do Pai, Confirmação e Santa Comunhão, noivado e casamento, Natal e Hanukkah!

FRANK SINATRA morreu a 14 de Maio de 1998, e encontrou aqui o seu último lugar de descanso: Grave site B-8, #1151, Desert Memorial Park, 31705 Da Vall Dr., Cathedral City, CA 92234/ EUA.

#Frank Sinatra lembranca #Frank Sinatra presente #Frank Sinatra arte #Frank Sinatra colecionável #Frank Sinatra obras de arte #frank sinatra decoracao #Frank Sinatra Memorabilia #frank sinatra souvenir

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decorsmuraux · 2 years

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Frank Sinatra oeuvre d'art signée ! Décoration murale ! Souvenir. Attrape-regard ! Idée de cadeau. Spécimen unique et rare des États-Unis !

Vous aimez la voix de Frank Sinatra ? Eh bien, maintenant vous pouvez apprécier sa voix et son art simultanément ! Obtenez ce tableau peint par lui à l'aquarelle maintenant chez vous et profitez d'une œuvre d'art intemporelle !

Impression d'art unique HD sur textile en châssis de haute qualité en format XL 75x50 cm !

Signé sur l'original par FRANK SINATRA !

Titre de l'œuvre d'art originale "Untitled 1989", créée par FRANK SINATRA à Rancho Mirage, Californie / USA en 1989.

Découvert au "Palm Springs Vintage Market" à Palm Springs, CA 92262/ USA !

COMMANDEZ DÈS MAINTENANT VOTRE SEULE ET UNIQUE DÉCORATION MURALE DE FRANK SINATRA ! E-Mail : [email protected] SEULEMENT EURO 49,95.- LIVRAISON GRATUITE PAR COURRIER AVEC PREUVE DE LIVRAISON !

FRANK SINATRA était, en plus de sa carrière réussie de chanteur et d'acteur de cinéma, également productif en tant que peintre. Ses œuvres d'art (principalement romantiques) ont atteint les prix les plus élevés lors de la vente aux enchères de la maison new-yorkaise Sotheby`s le 8 octobre 2018 !

Un "must-have !" pour tous les fans de feu Frank Sinatra !

Un souvenir de star cool qui se démarque !

Un objet de collection extravagant !

Un véritable accroche-regard !

Mais aussi, un super cadeau pour les anniversaires, la Saint-Valentin, Pâques et la Pentecôte, la fête des mères et la fête des pères, la confirmation et la communion, les fiançailles et le mariage, Noël et Hanoukka !

FRANK SINATRA est décédé le 14 mai 1998, et il a trouvé sa dernière demeure ici : Tombe B-8, #1151, Desert Memorial Park, 31705 Da Vall Dr., Cathedral City, CA 92234/ USA.

#Frank Sinatra décoration #Frank Sinatra décoration d`art #Frank Sinatra souvenir #Frank Sinatra cadeau #Frank Sinatra idée de cadeau #Frank Sinatra art

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jorgbobsin · 3 years

Video

FRANK SINATRA Impression d'art de haute qualité au format 45x28 cm.

J'ai découvert ce souvenir extraordinaire, signé à la main par Frank Sinatra sur l'original, au "Silverlake Flea Market" à Los Angeles, Californie/USA !

http://www.JORGBOBSIN.com

#franksinatra #souvenirs #grand souvenirs #cadeaux #cadeaux pour elle #cadeaux pour lui #cadeaux pour ados #grands décorations #star souvenirs #starsouvenirs #célébrités #movie stars #murale #doit avoir #extravagance #trucs de fan #pour toujours #superstars #Frank Sinatra Star

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mementomorphosis · 6 years

Photo

There's nothing left for me Of days that used to be They're just a memory

Among my souvenirs

HRUUh done did this. Tryin to draw ghouls in a more realistic way is hell.

#tw: body horror #scribbles #OC: August #the song quote is from among my souvenirs by connie francis btw #its a really sweet song #that along with frank sinatra's that's life are p much aug's soundtrack

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emwritesstuff · 3 years

Text

as the world caves in | ch. 9 | bucky barnes x reader

synopsis: You are a ghost story. A former Air Force pilot who had her plane shot down by Germany in 1945, but here you were in 2023, alive and frozen in your 25-year-old body.

You haven’t seen Bucky since the 1940’s, before his fall, before you went on a suicide mission only to come back alive. You aren’t sure reliving those memories – and being a living memory of everything the man has lost – is the best for him.

But you and Bucky won’t be apart for long.

This will loosely follow the plot of TFATWS - so spoilers ahead, specially regarding episode six (finale). Thread carefully!

masterlist | AO3

notes: thank you everyone for your patience with this chapter. I'm dropping this lil shortie so we can get the story moving. Let's go! (warnings: lil' fluff, lil' angst) (word count: 3K) nine: records

Bucky knocked on your door a few weeks later.

It was late, and you were snug in your pajamas, winding down after a long day. With your identity no longer a secret, the government was in the midst of transferring you to something more… hands-on, and definitely less diplomatic, you were assuming; so much for retirement, but you figured 30 years of it had been more time than you could’ve anticipated.

You almost didn’t hear the soft rapping on wood over Vera Lynn’s mellow singing.

When you finally opened it, you found him standing there, wearing tired eyes and a dark coat. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late, but I started walking and I—"

“When I said you’re welcome anytime, Bucky Barnes, I meant any time.”

A tiny fraction of a smile was offered your way, and you grasped it tight against your heart at the same time you do his hand, pulling him inside.

His fingers lingered on yours, but before you could start thinking about it he pulled away, taking a seat at the edge of your couch. “I finished it. The book.”

Bucky answered your question before you could ask it. “I just came from there. The last one– the last name.”

“Well. Are you alright?” You sat next to him, your knee knocking against his, and his gaze went from the floor, to the spot where your legs touched, and then to you. He knitted his eyebrows, seeming a little incredulous you were even asking.

“I will be.” His hands intertwined on the space between his knees, and you placed a hand ton his shoulder, getting him to look at you again.

“Yes, you will. Do you want to talk about it?”

One corner of Bucky’s lip raised up, and he shook his head. “Is that Vera Lynn?”

You smiled, turning to look at your record player as if Vera herself was sitting next to it. “It is. Takes me back, I guess.”

“It’s all we’d listen to at the front.”

Nodding, you wondered for a second if Bucky remembered dancing to We’ll Meet Again the night before he was shipped off. Even if you weren’t the only girl he had danced with then, you still asked yourself if that memory was burned on his mind as it was on yours.

We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when. A short-term promise, made back then by hopeful lovers, friends, family members; you had no idea that those lyrics would prove themselves so literal when you and Bucky mouthed them at each other in the middle of a dancefloor.

You let out a breathy chuckle, standing up and beckoning him to where you kept the rest of your vinyl. “Come on. Vera’s starting to feel a little too nostalgic to me.”

Your record collection was pretty extensive, ranging from things of the good ol’ days from the special editions that were still being released nowadays. Bucky joined you on the floor, and together you started to make your way through decades eternized in discs.

“Marvin Gaye.”

You look up from The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust, finding Bucky making a face at the album he was holding. “It’s really good. Do you want to—”

“No. No more Marvin Gaye.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “You don’t like him?”

“I like Marvin Gaye! Jesus. Marvin is good—Marvin’s jus’ fine,” Bucky rubbed his eyes with his thumb and middle finger, and you finally understood.

“Sam’s been preaching you the word of R&B to you too, huh?”

You giggled at the tired look he gave you and silently took Trouble Man out of his hands, stuffing it back with the rest of the 1970’s.

Years ago, Bucky would be delighted to dive headfirst in the new – your trips to countless science fairs and expositions were enough proof of that – but looking at him now, knowing him as you were starting to once again, you figured that just a dip of the toes was more than enough.

You pulled Frank Sinatra from the 1950’s section.

“I know Sinatra.”

“Do you now?”

You put the record on your player, and Vera Lynn’s longing gave way to Sinatra’s swagger and jazz.

“Do you?” Bucky teased, frowning at the most recent items in your collection. As soon as Frank’s voice filled the silence, he nodded. “Yeah, that’s nice.”

“I do know him! Or did. Met ‘im in 1962.” You plopped next to Bucky, who was shaking his head. “What?”

“Show off.”

“No, just been around. Met people on the way. And, you asked.” Your smirk grew into a grin as Bucky mouthed your words back at you. Then his face fell for a second, and your amusement was quickly replaced by worry. “What is it?”

“Nothing, I guess – I guess I just missed a lot.” The same way one of the corners of his lips tug on his cheek again in his attempt of a smile, melancholy tugs at your heartstrings. “I missed out on everything. And I missed out on you.”

Bucky’s head was low as he spoke and you could see the tremble of his hands, even though he clutched one of your records tightly. Nina Simone, 1960’s.

“M’not going anywhere, you know.”

“You still lived an entire lifetime—”

“I did, yes, thank you for constantly reminding me that I’m over 100 years old.” You shook your head at him, sighing softly when he chuckled.

You couldn’t blame him, for clinging to every bit of past he’d missed while he was in HYDRA’s clutches – you knew that was inevitable, but you wished that such sorrow wasn’t so related to you.

“What are you doin’?” He asked as you summoned a small stool from the side of your shelf and stepped on it.

“I want to show you somethin’.” The thing you were looking for was stored at the very top: a heavy, brown leather suitcase that almost made you lose your balance when you pulled it from the spot it had been sitting in for—honestly, years, many of them.

The contents of the suitcase rattled as you climbed down and sat next to Bucky again. Sinatra still playing, telling his lover I've got you under my skin, I've got you, deep in the heart of me;

You almost laughed from the truth and irony of it.

I'd tried so, not to give in

I said to myself this affair never will go so well

You unlocked the suitcase, revealing the gathered memories inside. Pictures, movie tickets, theater playbooks, receipts, trinkets. All souvenirs of the 80 something years of your life Bucky hadn’t been there to see.

Not organized in the slightest, the keepsakes of your life were tossed together and out of order just as in your memory: photographs of you in uniform, and sometimes in party dresses; of when you bought your house; of the few times you had pets. Posing next to famous people and other important ones whose names weren’t as well known by the world.

As you and Bucky went through each of them, you added a story or an explanation, sometimes both, to fill him in on the details of your life events. He laughed at some, frowned at a lot, stared at you intently for all of them.

“Is this Berlin?”

You hummed, nodding. “1989. That party was great.”

“Party?” Bucky knitted his eyebrows in surprise.

“The city was unified, the wall was being taken down, and everyone was celebrating. I’ve never seen that many bottles of vodka in one place.” You laughed, taking a good look at yourself in the picture.

The 80’s were definitely not your best decade, looks wise. You had tried a perm the year before, and the poodle look was only then starting to dial down. The beginnings of a bruise were starting to creep on your left eye, from the mission you had completed just a few hours before.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been that drunk.”

Bucky’s surprise intensified, his eyes wide. “We can’t get drunk.”

“Yes we can.”

“No, no we can’t.”

“We can, in fact. It’s all a matter of quantity and, well, speed.” You giggled as Bucky’s mouth gaped more.

“And the hangover?”

“Horrible. Like getting shot on the forehead. Comes quickly, too.”

He grimaced, and with one last look – certainly to register your peculiar appearance on his mind – gently put the picture back inside the suitcase. A stack of papers seemed to call out to him and he picked it up, releasing them from the band that held them together carefully.

Postcards of the places you’ve been: a small note to James Barnes and Steve Rogers on the back of each one.

Bucky’s voice faltered. He let out an anguished little sound, probably something that was supposed to be an Oh, or a What, but had no strength to crawl up his throat.

You brought your knees to your chest as you waited for him.

“You—you wrote to us?”

“I did. You can keep those, they’re addressed to you.”

After all this time, you could barely remember the words you wrote in those postcards; all you knew was that some had longer messages, others a simple Wish you were here.

“After we met in Baltimore, I thought that— that you’d have moved on from us.”

From me.

As if that was possible.

“Well, I stopped writing by 2003, give or take. But really,” You sighed. “It’s hard to forget someone when you’ve always been expecting them to come back to you.”

Bucky flipped the postcard from Rome, read the writing and smiled wistfully at it. “And, I did.”

“You did. And staying away was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but—”

“But you’re annoyingly stubborn.” His jaw tightened, then relaxed when he smirked. “I mean, I get it – If the roles were reversed, I’d leave you rebuild your life without me like a self-sacrificing idiot too.”

Alright. That was fair.

Shaking your head, you watched as he slipped the postcards in his pocket, an amused expression on his face.

“That was… a big mistake. Something a self-sacrificing idiot would do,” You screwed your eyes shut in shame, opening them when Bucky chuckled. “but now, I’m right here. And so are you.”

His stubble scratched the soft skin of your palm when you reached for him, and you continued. “We’re a little out of place in this century, that much is true, but if I’m being honest… I’m getting tired of yearning for the past, Buck.”

Good old times – sometimes really good, sometimes bad, every one of them old – tucked away in your heart like your records were tucked in neatly in their shelf, organized by year. As you went through the decades, your enhanced body eternizing you like marble, your heart seemingly stayed at that army camp overseas. Or maybe Sergeant Bucky Barnes had taken it with him, only for them to be frozen together, leaving you with an empty hole in your chest.

You lived your life longing for that missing piece, the one with blue eyes and the dashing smile and the skilled feet.

The one that in many other stories was the one that got away, the one who now believed he was somebody else, but had brought your heart back with him all the same.

The very heart that nearly leapt out of your chest when Bucky rested his forehead against yours.

You’ve never been this close – there isn’t an ounce of past in the gesture. His eyes being tightly closed kept him from seeing the surprise on your eyes and then how they fell to his lips for a millisecond. Then, those lips brushed against yours in a featherlike touch.

I would sacrifice anything, come what might

For the sake of having you near

He pried himself off you when you exhaled, as if your very breath had electrocuted him.

“M’sorry. I—I didn’t—” He said as you stared at the back of his neck, and the shock gives way to disappointment.

I didn’t mean to. Or maybe: I didn’t want to.

“That’s—it’s okay.” You clapped your hands on your knees, still feeling the prickle of his facial hair on them, and got up to change the music.

There was no doubt Bucky was touch starved, and that he probably craved the closeness that comes with a lover. He sought that for a fleeting second in Sam’s sister, and now in you. No point in dwelling on what it might have meant.

Right?

Looking at Bucky, his expression was overcast, furrowed eyebrows as he watched you from his spot on the floor. You offered him a gentle smile, and the crease on his forehead eased up slightly.

Right.

Don't you know little fool, you never can win

The record player made a scratching sound as you replaced Frank Sinatra with your go-to jazz compilation. Instrumental.

No lyrics.

There was one thing you’ve always been good at, regarding the infatuation with Bucky Barnes that has taken over your heart for almost a century now: locking the feelings away and stepping into the shoes of the best friend.

Besides, you’ve said it yourself: no more yearning for the past. Hopefully you and Bucky would be able to do that soon enough.

At that moment, however, you needed to feel the burn of whiskey down your throat and pretend it’ll heal the calcinating rejection spreading through your chest.

The guilt you found in Bucky’s eyes as he watched you sweep around your hardwood floors made you pour a glass for him.

He took it gratefully, frowning when you bottomed the whole thing up.

“There’s a lot in here.” He tapped the edge of the suitcase, skillfully steering the conversation in the direction of the more palatable, calm territory it was in before.

The sight of your autobiographical collection made you smile.

“An entire lifetime,” You said, fishing your dog tags from the bottom. “I suppose that’s where it started. Or at least, where thisstarted.”

Bucky took them reverentially, running his thumb over the imprint of your name and numbers.

He reached for his neck, producing from under his Henley the same type of metal chain he was holding in his hands. The fact that he still wore his like that sent a sharp blow to your lungs, almost knocking the air out of you.

His face softened, a smile so beautiful spreading across his lips, so much that your chest clenched in protest because it was simply not fair, how he still had you entirely.

He deposited both of your dog tags in your hands, and that’s when you saw it, and remembered it.

“Won’t we get in trouble for this?”

“Do you care?”

“Well…No.” You sighed, already resigned. And a little excited.

Bucky knew you well: it had been too long of being a good little soldier when all you were used to was the rush of being a hellion.

“And that is why, sugar, that I’m doing this with you, and not with Steve.”

The words made your heart soar, but you were sure to recapture it before it could fly away too high, still too attached to the sensation of the take-off to clip its wings.

You liked flying.

“And because Steve hasn’t been successful in his enlisting efforts. Yet.”

Bucky looked at you from behind his eyebrows, a reprimand hiding in his eyes, but he decided to shove his uniform hat on your head instead. You grumbled, calling him a jerk under your breath.

It was the night before Bucky was drafted to England. He looked handsome in his uniform, a shining, polished star, brighter than the sun even under the dim streetlight you two stood under.

After bringing his and Steve’s dates home (yours was lost to another boxing match along the way – not that you were crying about that) Bucky had decided he was going to stay up all night, because, in his words, he could sleep when the war was over. Or, more realistically, in the ship on the way to England.

So there you two were, illuminated by street lamps and moonlight, visiting the façades and front windows of your favorite places in Brooklyn like drifters in the night.

Bucky still concentrated on his task, his shoulder hunched slightly to block your sight.

“Let me see! Bucky!”

“ ’Sposed to be a surprise! I’m almost done.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “It’s not like I haven’t seen ‘em before.”

“You gotta be more patient. Here.”

He dropped your dog tags on your hand. You displayed the small steel plates on your palm, scanning your eyes over the two. One of them, of course, had your name, number, blood type, next of kin – an aunt you’ve never met – and address.

The other had Bucky’s.

James B Barnes. 32557038.

He slipped his own chain over his head, the plate with your name clinking against his.

You brought the tips of your fingers to your lips, feeling a smile begin to form onto them.

“I forgot we did this. I haven’t looked at these in so long.”

You had stopped wearing your dog tags the day the war had ended – Bucky was gone then, Steve too, and the weight of his dog tags slamming against your chest was too much to bear – your heart was already heavy with its own engraving of their memories.

“Steve had a lecture prepared when he gave mine back.” Bucky chuckled when you looked up at him, incredulous.

You shook your head, half exasperated and half amused. “Good grief, Steve.”

“Y’know how he is. Was,” He trailed, lips twitching as they formed a thin line.

You reached for him, your hand hovering in the space between you for a second before Bucky took it, lacing your fingers. Scooting closer, you let your cheek rest on his shoulder.

“He’d be glad we’re reunited.” You said, raising your head to peek at him and the newfound upwards curl of his lip. “And mortified we’re still bickering.”

Bucky smiled and squeezed your hand. “Old people. Old habits.”

Laughter bubbled out of your chest, and you realized a few things.

In that moment, it didn’t matter – the heartache, the unrequited side of your love. It was just a fact, a fact of life, of your life, that you a lot of the times loved him as more than your best friend. You loved him. And that was the core of it, the most important fact.

And you knew he loved you – you had each other – in this big, ever-changing, modern world, you had Bucky and Bucky had you.

You sat in comfortable, familiar silence until your eyelids grew heavy and you felt yourself drifting in and out of consciousness.

“You dozin’ on me, sugar?”

“It’s been a long day.” You said with your eyes still closed, feeling him chuckle beside you.

“Tell me about it. I can go—”

“You know damn well you should stay.” You patted his arm and hoisted yourself up from the floor. “I’ll get the pull-up ready for you.”

As you sauntered towards the office, ignoring his pleads and protests that he’s got it, he doesn’t need sheets or anything, you put your dog tags back on.

They jingled lightly against your heart.

Maybe you didn’t have to leave all of the past behind to start building something good and new, after all.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes imagine

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