#Santa Monica Observer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

adore-laur · 5 months

Text

THIRD TIME’S THE CHARM

— flashback from the dadrry universe about how you & harry first met 🍸

——

Harvelle's was where Harry went to unwind. The blues club in downtown Santa Monica was home to an intimate, narrow bar room that had once been a popular speakeasy nearly a century ago. Live jazz music, bewitching burlesque dancers, and eclectic alcohol choices attracted people from various backgrounds to visit and escape reality for a while.

Harry was there after a strenuous ten-hour shift, his back and feet aching to the highest degree. No amount of pain pills or sleep had fixed it, so he decided to come to a place where he could drink his sorrows away and focus his mind on anything other than his premature midlife crisis. The hangover he'd wake up with tomorrow would be dire, but thankfully, he'd have the weekend to recover.

As a generous patron of Harvelle's for over a year, his designated seat was the circular stool snug against the corner of the bar. Every Friday evening after work, he'd sit down, slap his credit card in the bartender's hand, and quietly sip cocktails while he observed everyone around him dive into drunken ecstasy.

This night was different, however, because someone at the opposite end of the room caught his attention.

In a trance, he watched you sway your head to the sultry music playing while holding a martini glass filled with pink liquid. Something strawberry-flavored, probably. He flicked his gaze to your lips that puckered around the thin straw and took graceful sips occasionally. You were... gorgeous. Effortlessly so. You had the kind of face Harry would remember for a long time, even when he was slightly tipsy.

His lemon drop martini was half empty, and his eyes drooped from either exhaustion or the alcohol coursing through his blood. Tendrils of his hair fell over his forehead, ones his sunglasses failed to hold back. His sheer, patterned shirt was sticking to his skin because of the room's humidity.

Or maybe it was because of you.

There had to be a way to garner your attention from where he sat. Your body was turned away from him, the shimmering lights from the rotating disco ball dancing across your back. Harry didn't want to be the type of guy in a bar who uncomfortably invaded a woman's space and sparked a lousy conversation until he could sense boredom practically exuding from them.

So, after the band finished playing a song, Harry put two fingers in his mouth and produced a loud whistle as everyone else clapped. It worked, much to his surprise. Your head shifted to glance back at him, and Harry felt instant regret. Too annoying? Had he turned you off?

"Sorry," he mouthed for some stupid reason.

You just smiled kindly and ran your eyes up and down his figure before casually jerking your head in invitation. Harry pointed at himself to ensure he was reading your gesture correctly, and you nodded in response while patting the empty stool beside you. The bar wasn't packed since it was nearing the early morning hours, so he grabbed his martini glass and stood up before approaching you. He awkwardly sat beside you and supposed he should introduce himself.

"Hello, I'm Harry," he greeted, holding out his hand.

You placed your hand in his and gently shook it, telling him your name. "Nice to meet you, Harry."

"Where are you from?"

It had been a brutal couple of months of having minimal luck in the dating realm, so he hoped he wasn't coming across as a total moron.

"Topanga," you answered, absentmindedly twirling the straw in your glass.

Harry had already fallen in love with your voice, if possible. "Wow. That's all the way in the mountains."

Shrugging, you sipped your drink, then said, "I don't like big cities. If I could, I would live closer to the coast, but properties are so expensive there."

Harry crossed one leg over the other, trying to appear nonchalant even though he was nervous as all get-out. "Like a beach house?"

"Yes, exactly!" you said, your eyes lighting up. "Maybe with my own private beach or something. That'd be amazing."

"Sounds like a dream," he replied, placing his chin in his palm.

"And what about you? Where does a guy like you live?"

"I live in Santa Monica in an apartment complex a few blocks away."

"That's nice. Do you come here often?"

Harry didn't want to give off lonely, miserable drunkard vibes, so he chose not to fib. "Um, sometimes," he admitted sheepishly, hoping his answer wasn't too vague.

"This is actually my first time here. It's quite intimate."

Harry licked his lips, desperately fighting the urge to longingly stare at yours whenever you spoke. "Yeah, it is. They have burlesque dancers on Saturday nights."

You whistled attractively. "I'm sure you enjoy that."

"Hey," he dragged out, smiling a bit. "I appreciate their flexibility." Too far, man. Dial it back a bit. "Just kidding," he quietly added.

You downed the last of your drink and then tapped your phone screen. "Yikes, it's getting late. I should probably head home."

A wave of disappointment and insecurity washed over him. He was just getting to know you. Had he said something wrong? Was he boring you? He could be quite the awkward, clingy idiot when he was drunk, so he genuinely felt worried as to why you had to leave so suddenly.

His brain was hazy, and the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "Can I have your number before you go?"

You collected your purse, shooting him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, but not tonight. Ask me again when you're sober."

Harry went utterly speechless. You hadn't said it dismissively or rudely, but it caught him by surprise nonetheless. In response, he just lamely lifted his drink in a cheers gesture as you left him lonely, mysteriously disappearing through the exit and never glancing back.

——

You were running considerably late to work. A mandatory meeting was supposed to begin in less than twenty minutes, and you'd only just pulled into the parking lot of some random restaurant to pick up a cake for a coworker's birthday today. You followed the directions your boss gave you, which led to a burgundy building on the outskirts of Santa Monica. Luckily, the bakery section of the restaurant was right next to the lobby doors, so you parked your car and rushed inside.

When you pushed the glass doors open, a bell chimed, and you immediately heard something clatter to the ground, along with a hushed swear. The place was empty of people, chairs still stacked upside down on the tables. Its modern interior design with neutral shades provided a subtle background for the colorful pastries crowding every corner. There was also a grand window display of desserts, all aesthetically and meticulously organized.

A man suddenly came shuffling out of the swinging kitchen door, his hands full of supplies teetering on each other.

Oh, it was the hot guy from the bar you went to about a month ago. What was his name again? Harvelle? No, that was the bar's name. Maybe it was Henry? Hector? Hubert? You didn't exactly remember, but you were positive it was something close.

Anyway, he seemed flustered in his oversized knit sweater and green trousers. A Styrofoam coffee cup was balanced in the crook of his elbow, and honestly, it looked like he just woke up. Yet somehow, he appeared even more beautiful than he did in the moody lighting of Harvelle's. His features were now accentuated by the pure daylight pouring through the windows.

You cleared your throat and waited by the front counter, observing him clumsily set things down before flipping through a notepad and blindly reaching for a pen off to the side. He had yet to notice you, too caught up in whatever task he was trying to complete.

After a few silent seconds, he ripped out a piece of lined yellow paper scribbled with scrawly handwriting and skimmed over it while walking forward to greet you. When he glanced up, he froze in place. His green eyes took in what seemed like every inch of your being. His fingers twirled the ballpoint pen he was holding.

"Hi," you said quietly, adjusting your purse strap.

"Hey," he replied, scratching under his eyebrow with his knuckle. "Uh, hey. Hi. What— why are you here? Sorry, that sounds rude." He took a deep breath before continuing, "I meant, how can I help you?"

You bit back a smile and took out your wallet. "I'm here to pick up a cake for my work. We're having a birthday party for someone, and this is where I was told to get it from."

"Ah, okay. Can I have the name associated with the order?"

"It's under mine, but I—"

He politely interrupted with your name unfurling from his mouth as a question. "We talked at Harvelle's not that long ago, right?"

He remembered, and you thanked the heavens that you quickly noticed his name tag because otherwise, you would have been guessing every name in the book.

"Yeah," you confirmed with a nod. "And you're Harry. You asked for my number."

His cheeks flushed pink as he rubbed his forehead with an embarrassed scrunch of his nose. "I'm so sorry about that. It wasn't the greatest first impression, was it?"

"I've had people try worse lines on me," you assured him with a laugh. "So, how much is the cake? I only have cash on me."

Harry checked his notepad. "Twenty-four dollars and sixteen cents."

You fished out a crisp twenty- and five-dollar bill, then handed them to him. He took them, his hand brushing against yours as he opened the cash register.

"Did you know there's a Carlo's Bake Shop in Santa Monica?" you asked.

"Mm-hmm. It's just around the block, actually."

"That's wild. I almost screamed when I found out."

Harry slowly smirked and closed the register with his hip, silently counting your change in his palm. "Why? It's just any old cake shop."

You gasped with widened eyes. "Excuse me? Any old cake shop? It's from Cake Boss!"

"Cake what?"

"The show that was on TLC with Buddy Valastro. Hello? Do you live under a rock?"

He tilted his head and tucked a pen behind his ear. "You're speaking Greek to me. I've no idea what you're on about."

"Never mind." You rolled your eyes playfully and began gazing at the displayed pastries. "Do you make everything here?"

"If I'm not scheduled elsewhere, then yes," he answered. "I'm usually here for the morning part of my shift."

"What else do you do?"

"I'm mostly an assistant chef in the restaurant kitchen, but sometimes I bartend or run the bakery."

"Well, everything looks delectable." You checked your watch and huffed when you saw the time. "I need to get going."

Harry snapped his fingers twice. "Shit. I almost forgot to give you your cake." He turned around and opened the see-through fridge, searching for the correct box. He eventually took a baby blue one out from the bottom shelf before setting it on the counter and taping the receipt he printed out onto the top.

"Here you are," he said, sliding it toward you before taking a sip of coffee.

You found yourself liking the way his voice sounded when no one else was around. "Thank you. Um, you forgot to give me my change."

Harry cupped both of his cheeks and slowly shook his head. "I am so sorry. It's early, and I didn't sleep much last night."

Waving him off, you said, "It's okay. Mondays, am I right?" You mentally facepalmed yourself for sounding like a loser.

"Right. You get it." He breathily laughed and handed you your change.

You put your wallet away and then picked up the cake box. "Thank you again."

"Of course," he replied with a handsome smile. "It's nice to see you again, by the way."

"Same here." You checked your watch for the second time. "I really need to go, but I'm sure I'll come visit another time to buy something for myself."

Harry gestured a thumbs up. It made your heart skip a beat for some reason. "Please do," he said. "Have a good day, yeah?"

"You as well."

You headed toward the door, and just as you were about to pull it open to leave, Harry called out, "Hey, wait!"

You abruptly stopped and turned around. "Did I forget something?"

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, clearing his throat. "No, but you told me to ask you sober, so can— sorry, may I have your number? Please? Or we could go out somewhere?"

Your spirits sunk. "I'm actually running super late right now. I'll try to come back soon, though. Promise."

Harry nodded, his head dipping low. "I understand. I'll catch you later."

"Bye," you whispered hastily before stepping outside.

When you finally got to work and sat down for your meeting, you thought about Harry the entire time.

——

Harry was bartending when he saw you again. He was topping a White Russian with cream, almost overflowing the glass, when he did a double take at your figure walking toward the counter. He wasn't expecting you at all, entirely confident that he'd never cross paths with you again after his failed attempt at asking you out a few days ago.

You were dressed in a black suit with matching heels. Your hair looked frazzled, but it was ridiculously attractive. He had to check that he didn't make the customer's drink wrong because of how many times he had glanced at you.

"Hey," you said breathlessly, sitting on an open stool in front of him. "I had a feeling you'd be working here tonight. Are you busy right now?"

Harry nervously swallowed and slid the drink down to the customer. "Hey. N-not really, why?"

You bit your lip, your teeth puncturing the soft flesh. "I just wanted to say thank you for the delicious cake. My coworkers loved it."

"Oh, thank you," he said, casually placing his arms behind his back. "I'm happy to hear that."

"I also came here to tip you." Harry followed your movements with his eyes as you took a ten-dollar bill out of your pocket, smoothing the creases against the edge of the counter before holding it out. "This is for you. You're very talented."

He accepted the money because, in all honesty, he really needed it. "That's kind of you. I appreciate it."

Harry couldn't believe he had the woman he couldn't stop daydreaming about right in front of him. His mind scrambled for a flirty gesture or pick-up line to impress you, and he ended up going for what he was best at. Jerking his chin up, he smoothly asked, "Can I make you a drink?"

You set your elbows on the counter. "What do you suggest?"

"A strawberry margarita. Isn't that what you ordered at Harvelle's?"

"It was! I'm surprised you remember."

He wanted to say it was impossible not to since he had been besotted with the way you puckered your lips around the straw, but he refrained for the sake of his dignity. "I'll make it for you right now," he said. There are also appetizers in the back if you'd like some. Jalapeño poppers are the special tonight."

You nodded eagerly. "I'd love some."

Harry walked toward the kitchen pass, smiling as he grabbed a steaming basket. He thought it was going well so far, and it was wild that you had visited to simply tip him.

When he came back, he set the food and a couple of napkins in front of you. You immediately took a bite as Harry started making your drink.

"I'll go out with you, by the way."

If he hadn't been working, Harry was sure he would have acted like a lovesick girl at a sleepover who was spilling juicy details about their crush while giddily kicking their legs in the air. Him? You wanted to go out with him, of all people? The burnt-out food service worker who drove a shitty Subaru and was living paycheck to paycheck?

Maybe the third time's the charm.

"Are you sure?" he asked as he stuck a sliced lemon on the rim of your glass.

Before you could reply, a customer pulled him away, waving him down. He apologetically smiled before rushing over and aiding them as fast as possible. Once done, he spread his hands on the counter and tapped his fingers. "You're serious?"

You leaned forward and stared at him with a glint in your eyes. "Dead serious."

Harry blew out a sharp breath and chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Would it be lame if we got dinner here since I work literally every day this week?"

"I don't mind at all," you replied without missing a beat. "Whatever works for you."

"Cool." He straightened his posture and flung a dishrag over his shoulder. "How about this weekend?"

You hummed, quirking your lips to the side. "How about tonight?"

Harry's eyes went wide, clamminess instantly infiltrating his palms. Tonight? As in, there wasn't enough time to mentally prepare himself for a date tonight. Is it even considered a date? He was freaking out.

"Unless you're not in the mood," you added quickly. "I understand if you just want to go home after work."

He briskly shook his head. "No, no, I'm in the mood. Totally in the mood. I get off in about an hour if that's not too long of a wait for you."

You lightly knocked on the counter three times. "Perfect. I'll sit here and watch you make drinks until then."

He just grinned and handed you your margarita. "Wave me down if you need anything."

Throughout the last hour of his shift, Harry tended to everyone in the bar while checking in on you every so often. Making sure no one tried to hit on you, for the most part. After his coworker finally arrived to replace him, he washed his hands and rounded the counter to stand next to you.

"Let's head outside where it's quieter."

You nodded and grabbed your drink as he led you away from the crowd, his hand hovering over your back. He didn't want to overstep unknown boundaries too soon.

"Where do you think strawberry margaritas are better? Here or at Harvelle's?" you inquired as you both walked to the outdoor seating area right by the beach.

"Here, obviously," Harry said with a smirk. "Why, does mine taste bad?"

You both sat down opposite each other at a circular table. "No. I'm just wondering since you're the expert."

Harry bashfully smiled, then became a little more serious. "Listen," he started, "I'm sorry again about asking for your number while tipsy. That wasn't very gentleman-like of me."

You laughed and said, "Don't worry about it."

"All right. Good."

After you ordered food and more drinks—Harry insisting that he could get everything for free since he was a loyal employee—the two of you began getting to know each other more, taking turns asking questions and falling into an easy flow of conversation.

"Do you want kids?" Harry asked on his tenth or eleventh turn, his rings clinking against his glass as he tapped it.

He watched you ponder the simple yet complicated question, wondering if asking such an invasive thing was a stupid mistake. "I'm not sure," you replied eventually. He let out the breath he'd been holding. "I'm still young, and I don't think it's a decision I can confidently answer right now. What about you?"

Harry cradled his cheek in his palm. "I definitely want babies in the future—with the right person, of course, so I guess I have to wait for that first."

Your eyes softened as you took a sip of your drink. "How many babies?"

"Hmm, maybe two. Three, if my partner doesn't hate me by then."

"Boys or girls? Or both?"

"Honestly?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. You nodded as he rested his foot on the bottom of your chair. "All girls would be ideal. I don't know why; it's just what I see for myself."

"I get that," you said, nudging your foot against his. "Daughters would be really special to raise. They make the world go round."

He hummed in agreement, subtly brushing his kneecap against yours. "I also think I could learn so much from them, you know?"

"Who, your hypothetical children?" you teased.

He chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, I guess. We're speaking hypothetically, right?"

"Sure. Unless you're speaking it into existence."

"With how my love life is going, it doesn't seem likely."

You made a noise of protest. "Don't say that! You're a handsome guy."

"Well, my looks only get me so far."

"You're also sweet and charming." You took a small bite of food and maintained eye contact with him. "I'm shocked you're not taken already."

"I swear it's because of my job," he muttered. "Whenever I tell someone I work in a restaurant, they look at me like I'm a disappointment."

You retracted your head. "What's wrong with working in a restaurant?"

"You tell me," he murmured around the rim of his glass.

"I think it's hot."

Harry nearly choked on his drink, raising a fist to his mouth as he coughed in shock. "Come again?"

"You're a chef—"

"Assistant chef," he corrected.

"Same difference," you continued confidently. "You can cook food, you can bartend, and you know how to woo a woman. That's hot."

"Are you sure you're not just quoting Paris Hilton?"

You rolled your eyes with a knowing smile. "Maybe, maybe not. Although please tell me you've watched The Simple Life."

Harry stared at you, waiting for the punchline, but you looked completely serious. "No," he deadpanned. "Absolutely not. I will never watch trashy reality shows."

"Not even The Bachelor?" you asked, leaning closer with interest. "That's my favorite franchise to watch."

"You're insane if you enjoy that," he replied, wiping a napkin around his lips. "Anyway, back to you calling my job hot. Elaborate, please."

You gawked at him. "Has no one ever told you that before?"

He blinked slowly with a straight face. "It's not like I have the sex appeal of Bobby Flay, love."

Your eyes scanned him up and down. "I'm sure it's hidden somewhere deep inside you. Do you wear a chef jacket?"

"Yeah."

"See? That's hot."

He barked out a laugh. "You're lying to me."

You mimicked his surprised expression. "I am not!"

Slightly leaning over the table, he looked at you with unwavering eye contact. "Liar."

"You don't know me."

He said in a low, self-assured voice, "I'd like to."

A heartfelt exhale escaped your beautiful lips. "Then stop assuming I'm a liar when I compliment you."

Harry breathed in deeply and glanced at your lips. One brief look at them rendered him weak, their shape curving into a smile, stained pink due to your margarita. He wanted to kiss you, but it wouldn't be very romantic to do so in public. He could kiss your cheek instead, but he already imagined how awkward he'd make it. He could hold your hand, a more subtle gesture that wasn't too bold. That sounded manageable.

So, with a single swig of his liquid courage, he went for it. His hand slowly scooted to your thigh under the table, delicately grabbing your fingertips with his own. He rubbed his thumb along your knuckles and set his fingers underneath your palm so you were holding hands, fingers not interwoven but holding nonetheless. You'd gone quiet, whatever you were about to say getting lost in the intimacy swirling in the air.

Harry squeezed your hand and said, "Let's walk down to the beach."

"Okay."

Harry let go and stood from his seat, then pulled you up with him before leading you to the sand. The sun had fully set, yet several campfires and tiki torches lit the way to the shore. There was barely anyone out, which was perfect for Harry since he planned to kiss you senselessly. At least, he hoped so. He might chicken out, which was highly likely considering his heart nearly gave out whenever you looked at him.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Pardon?" Harry's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Damnit, you beat him to it.

You took off your heels and started walking toward the water. "You heard me."

"Yeah, I- I did," he stammered, sliding his shoes and socks off as he strode up to you.

His black work shirt almost caught on fire from the tiki torch with how fast he walked toward you. The waves calmly met the shore, and he admired you step foot into the shallow water, the Ferris wheel and pier merely twinkling lights in the background. The nearby flames danced off the reflection of the ocean as well as your skin, and he swore he'd never experienced such a magnetic pull toward someone before. He followed you like a puppy on a leash, digging into his pocket for a mint he secretly grabbed. He popped it into his mouth.

Eventually, he faced you with the water rising just below his knees. You were staring at him with a particular look, and he took it as his cue to initiate the first move. "Do you want to kiss me, or should I kiss you?" Harry asked nervously.

You placed your hands on his hips and said, "Just kiss me, please."

So he did. He ducked his head down to mold his lips onto yours, feeling them immediately find the shape of his and move beautifully against his bottom lip. He tasted strawberry residue, weakening his knees with each soft pull. His hands gently held the sides of your neck, using his thumbs to tilt your jaw. He wanted to open his eyes and savor how you looked, but he was so caught up with how fast his heart beat and how euphoric he felt touching the woman of his dreams.

When you finally ran out of breath and pulled away, Harry rested his forehead against yours and made a noise somewhere between a whimper and a groan.

"Was that okay?"

He shook his head in disbelief but quickly turned it into a nod so you didn't think he was saying no. "Yes. That was the best thing to ever happen to me."

You laughed and kissed the corner of his gobsmacked mouth. "I'm honored."

Harry stared at you, mesmerized by every square inch of your face. "I feel like we were always supposed to meet," he murmured, more to himself than anyone.

"Me too," you said sincerely.

He really hoped he didn't mess things up.

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #harry styles #adore-laur #third time’s the charm

105 notes · View notes

scenlc · 21 days

Text

more commonly referred to as ideal, is a fictional entertainment company based in seoul, south korea that's been around since 2006. created by producer nam cheongsik originally for his wife &. former idol corinne nam, the label was dedicated to helping corinne re-establish herself in the music industry after her sudden disappearance from the now infamous &. defunct girl group girls to the front, or girl front for short. though after a few observations of the current algorithm and demand of interest towards other companies, plans were changed. using their combined expertise of working with idol groups, the married couple decided to create their own.

what was an idea thrown out on a whim soon became the origin story for a legacy that's recognized worldwide. their small yet close-knit roster of artists makes them stand-out amongst the rest; ideal music focuses on reaching the highest potential for each of their artists individually and as a whole rather than debuting idols back to back. this formula has helped mass a nearly 100% rate of success for when they do debut new acts, the anticipation for what they put out next aiding into the immediate support given.

over the years, ideal music has gained a reputation for the company's tight-knit dynamic &. overall freedom given to their artists. whilst this seems like a positive, observers of the label noticed that not every act is given the same treatment as others. speculations of favoritism and nepotism have plagued ideal for a few years but nothing was ever confirmed nor denied. though in recent time, more and more inside sources have come out exposing the cult-like environment for their cover-ups and weird internal affairs.

disregarding the flaws slowly beginning to seep through the cracks their facade, ideal music is still named among other influential and successful entertainment companies worldwide. most of their household names have worked with dozens of other idols in the industry, easily cementing themselves among other high profile producers, lyricists, composers, and choreographers. because of this, many onlookers call this the ideal effect as their acts are often deemed the "ideal standard" thanks to their longevity and impact within the industry.

𝟷𝟷𝟷⠀.⠀⠀⠀PUBLIC DOSSIER⠀⠀︵⠀⠀★⠀⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀STATS !

FOUNDED ⠀ June, 2006.

CEO ⠀ Nam Cheongsik.

FOUNDER ⠀ Nam Cheongsik ⠀&.⠀ Corinne Nam.

HEADQUARTERS ⠀ Gangnam-dong, Seoul, South Korea ⠀&.⠀ Santa Monica, California, United States.

INDUSTRY ⠀ Music, Entertainment, Production.

OPERATES AS ⠀ Record Label, Talent Agency, Music Production Company, Event Management and Concert Production Company, ⠀&.⠀ Music Publishing House.

𝟷𝟷𝟷⠀.⠀⠀⠀PUBLIC DOSSIER⠀⠀︵⠀⠀★⠀⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀BYOU !

established in march of 2012, BYOU is the dedicated beauty cosmetic line housed underneath ideal music. referencing their slogan "done by you," the division first got their start releasing more natural, soft glam inspired products that targeted makeup beginners who wanted to start easy. as the years went on, the company began noticing the rise in skincare and wasted no time developing their own line to fit their brand. after 4 years of development, MILKT was introduced. thanks to the global expansion of both the online &. with in-store openings, as well as the several partnerships with ideal idols and other signed acts, BYOU has become an essential piece of the beauty world with their biggest sales coming from south korea.

𝟷𝟷𝟷⠀.⠀⠀⠀PUBLIC DOSSIER⠀⠀︵⠀⠀★⠀⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀VITAL IMAGE !

taking inspiration from the video vixen era of western music, VITAL IMAGE began as a modeling agency solely created to house the pretty faces that appeared in the earlier ideal music videos. staffed with both female and male models, the subsidiary was often reached out to by other companies for extras in their own productions. this sparked an era for VITAL as between 2009 - 2013, a lot of the love interests or backgrounds in music videos were utilized from here. in 2014, the sub-label was hit with a wave of models who wanted to branch off into either music or acting. it was here when VITAL decided to expand into housing actors as well - a cheap move that one article described the change to be in an attempt to keep their models signed entirely under them. since 2014, a lot of famous faces in both industries have been born and still continue to influence thousands of people each day. a few idols have also been birthed from VITAL with some even branching out the entertainment mold altogether.

𝟷𝟷𝟷⠀.⠀⠀⠀PUBLIC DOSSIER⠀⠀︵⠀⠀★⠀⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀L.E.N.S !

LET'S EXPLORE NEW SCENES, abbreviated as L.E.N.S, is the production house under ideal music created back in september of 2012. the subsidiary label acted no different from other labels as they catered to make idol-specific mini series and variety content that was aired on networks like KBS, JTBC, and MNET. later down the line, L.E.N.S migrated into theatrical performances and documentaries following the surge of them with competing companies. after going into a partnership with neflix and hulu, the production house began creating their own movies and dramas that starred their signed talent from VITAL and IDEAL. this has led to many debates online about the "star-quality" these people actually possess with many accusing L.E.N.S of using "dolls" - a term basically meaning that their actors were just good to look at but held no real personality. despite the critiques, a lot of the productions created by the sub-label have done pretty well in the media, so it's safe to assume that at least someone likes their acting.

#𝟷𝟷𝟷⠀.⠀⠀⠀IDEAL⠀⠀︵⠀⠀★⠀⠀𓈒 #𝟷𝟷𝟷⠀.⠀⠀⠀COMPANIES⠀⠀︵⠀⠀★⠀⠀𓈒 #fictional idol company #fictional idol oc #fictional idol community #fake kpop addition #fake kpop oc #kpop oc #kpop au #idol oc #idol au

19 notes · View notes

samithemunchkin · 9 months

Text

WIP WEDNESDAY THURSDAY MONDAY BABIES

I was tagged by @faccal pls I haven't written in months but I found this? I meant to continue Lay your gun down, and this is what I had written for it.

I don't know who to tag

To everyone’s relief, they didn’t need to stay long in Santa Monica. Elias had already evacuated the command centre by the time the team picked him up and his sons weren’t far off. Keegan had barely batted an eye at the older Walker brother’s hostility, nor at the way Merrick on the other hand felt hyper-protective of his team, fully intending on beating the boy into order before Elias intervened. Keegan observed with distant eyes as their CO started explaining everything to his sons. He could still sense Merrick quietly fuming next to him but he couldn’t find himself to care. Not until a good few hours into the ride back home. The carefully patched cracks started to come apart, too soon, too fast, as Keegan’s mind started to wander, realising what was happening, the implications. They had just lost a teammate, a brother. It hadn’t even been a full day, Ajax’ body had barely gone cold. And Elias was already replacing him. There was a sudden nudge at his shoulder and he tilted his head just enough to glance at the man sitting beside him. “You need to keep it in.” Merrick said in a low hush, giving him a pointed look that Keegan couldn’t quite decipher. What he did realise was that he was breathing hard, every breath coming out in shaky exhales and he was a tremor going through his body just from how tense his muscles were. He glanced around, noting how Elias had tactfully situated himself between his sons and his team, though his attention was mostly on his boys, observing how his eldest did his best to patch up the stab wound on the younger brother’s shoulder. Anger flared up inside him. “Keegan.” Merrick called more sternly then. “Not here. And preferably not anywhere. You know damn well it’s just been a matter of time before those kids joined us.” “...doesn’t make it any less fucked up or right.” He all but growled back. “Doesn’t matter what we think. Do not make this any fucking harder than it already is.” Keegan just scoffed at that but otherwise fell silent, resolutely staring at the opposing wall to try to keep himself in check. The anger he felt was only getting more intense, burning inside him. Anger towards Elias, the brothers, now even Merrick. And pure unadulterated rage at the Federation. At Rorke. He needed to get out of there, away from them all. He could practically feel the walls he’d forced up start to crumble, cracks getting bigger and there was little he could do to stop it. He was too tired, too unstable to begin with. “Just…a little longer, we’re almost home. I’ll cover the briefing’s and shit, make sure you have time-” “I don’t need you to fucking coddle me Merrick.” Keegan snapped, loud enough that he could see Elias snap his head towards them.

#keegan p russ #thomas merrick #elias walker #hesh walker #logan walker #cod ghosts #sami teh munchkin attempts to write

44 notes · View notes

radical-revolution · 29 days

Text

It is very important to understand for oneself, to see, through one’s own observation, that conflict must exist everlastingly as long as there is a division between the observer and the observed. And in you there is this division, as the ‘I’, as the ‘self’, as the ‘me’ that is trying to be different from somebody else. Is this clear? Clarity means that you see it for yourself. This is not just a verbal clarity, hearing a set of words or ideas; it means that you yourself see very clearly, and therefore without choice, how this division between the observer and the observed creates mischief, confusion and sorrow. So when you are violent, can you look at that violence in yourself without the memory, the justification, the assertion that you must not be violent – but merely look? Which means that you must be free of the past. To look means that you must have great energy, you must have intensity. You must have passion, otherwise you cannot look. Unless you have great passion and intensity you cannot look at the beauty of a cloud, or the marvellous hills that you have here. In the same way, to look at oneself without the observer needs tremendous energy and passion. And this passion, this intensity, is destroyed when you begin to condemn, to justify, when you say, ‘I must not’, ‘I must’, or when you say, ‘I am living a non-violent life’, or pretend to live a non-violent life.

Jiddu Krishnamurti

Santa Monica, 1st Public Talk - 1st March 1970

10 notes · View notes

xtruss · 10 months

Text

The First Light of Trinity

— By Alex Wellerstein | July 16, 2015 | Annals of Technology

Seventy years ago, the flash of a nuclear bomb illuminated the skies over Alamogordo, New Mexico. Courtesy Los Alamos National Laboratory

The light of a nuclear explosion is unlike anything else on Earth. This is because the heat of a nuclear explosion is unlike anything else on Earth. Seventy years ago today, when the first atomic weapon was tested, they called its light cosmic. Where else, except in the interiors of stars, do the temperatures reach into the tens of millions of degrees? It is that blistering radiation, released in a reaction that takes about a millionth of a second to complete, that makes the light so unearthly, that gives it the strength to burn through photographic paper and wound human eyes. The heat is such that the air around it becomes luminous and incandescent and then opaque; for a moment, the brightness hides itself. Then the air expands outward, shedding its energy at the speed of sound—the blast wave that destroys houses, hospitals, schools, cities.

The test was given the evocative code name of Trinity, although no one seems to know precisely why. One theory is that J. Robert Oppenheimer, the head of the U.S. government’s laboratory in Los Alamos, New Mexico, and the director of science for the Manhattan Project, which designed and built the bomb, chose the name as an allusion to the poetry of John Donne. Oppenheimer’s former mistress, Jean Tatlock, a student at the University of California, Berkeley, when he was a professor there, had introduced him to Donne’s work before she committed suicide, in early 1944. But Oppenheimer later claimed not to recall where the name came from.

The operation was designated as top secret, which was a problem, since the whole point was to create an explosion that could be heard for a hundred miles around and seen for two hundred. How to keep such a spectacle under wraps? Oppenheimer and his colleagues considered several sites, including a patch of desert around two hundred miles east of Los Angeles, an island eighty miles southwest of Santa Monica, and a series of sand bars ten miles off the Texas coast. Eventually, they chose a place much closer to home, near Alamogordo, New Mexico, on an Army Air Forces bombing range in a valley called the Jornada del Muerto (“Journey of the Dead Man,” an indication of its unforgiving landscape). Freshwater had to be driven in, seven hundred gallons at a time, from a town forty miles away. To wire the site for a telephone connection required laying four miles of cable. The most expensive single line item in the budget was for the construction of bomb-proof shelters, which would protect some of the more than two hundred and fifty observers of the test.

The area immediately around the bombing range was sparsely populated but not by any means barren. It was within two hundred miles of Albuquerque, Santa Fe, and El Paso. The nearest town of more than fifty people was fewer than thirty miles away, and the nearest occupied ranch was only twelve miles away—long distances for a person, but not for light or a radioactive cloud. (One of Trinity’s more unusual financial appropriations, later on, was for the acquisition of several dozen head of cattle that had had their hair discolored by the explosion.) The Army made preparations to impose martial law after the test if necessary, keeping a military force of a hundred and sixty men on hand to manage any evacuations. Photographic film, sensitive to radioactivity, was stowed in nearby towns, to provide “medical legal” evidence of contamination in the future. Seismographs in Tucson, Denver, and Chihuahua, Mexico, would reveal how far away the explosion could be detected.

The Trinity test weapon. Courtesy Los Alamos National Laboratory

On July 16, 1945, the planned date of the test, the weather was poor. Thunderstorms were moving through the area, raising the twin hazards of electricity and rain. The test weapon, known euphemistically as the gadget, was mounted inside a shack atop a hundred-foot steel tower. It was a Frankenstein’s monster of wires, screws, switches, high explosives, radioactive materials, and diagnostic devices, and was crude enough that it could be tripped by a passing storm. (This had already happened once, with a model of the bomb’s electrical system.) Rain, or even too many clouds, could cause other problems—a spontaneous radioactive thunderstorm after detonation, unpredictable magnifications of the blast wave off a layer of warm air. It was later calculated that, even without the possibility of mechanical or electrical failure, there was still more than a one-in-ten chance of the gadget failing to perform optimally.

The scientists were prepared to cancel the test and wait for better weather when, at five in the morning, conditions began to improve. At five-ten, they announced that the test was going forward. At five-twenty-five, a rocket near the tower was shot into the sky—the five-minute warning. Another went up at five-twenty-nine. Forty-five seconds before zero hour, a switch was thrown in the control bunker, starting an automated timer. Just before five-thirty, an electrical pulse ran the five and a half miles across the desert from the bunker to the tower, up into the firing unit of the bomb. Within a hundred millionths of a second, a series of thirty-two charges went off around the device’s core, compressing the sphere of plutonium inside from about the size of an orange to that of a lime. Then the gadget exploded.

General Thomas Farrell, the deputy commander of the Manhattan Project, was in the control bunker with Oppenheimer when the blast went off. “The whole country was lighted by a searing light with the intensity many times that of the midday sun,” he wrote immediately afterward. “It was golden, purple, violet, gray, and blue. It lighted every peak, crevasse, and ridge of the nearby mountain range with a clarity and beauty that cannot be described but must be seen to be imagined. It was that beauty the great poets dream about but describe most poorly and inadequately.” Twenty-seven miles away from the tower, the Berkeley physicist and Nobel Prize winner Ernest O. Lawrence was stepping out of a car. “Just as I put my foot on the ground I was enveloped with a warm brilliant yellow white light—from darkness to brilliant sunshine in an instant,” he wrote. James Conant, the president of Harvard University, was watching from the V.I.P. viewing spot, ten miles from the tower. “The enormity of the light and its length quite stunned me,” he wrote. “The whole sky suddenly full of white light like the end of the world.”

In its first milliseconds, the Trinity fireball burned through photographic film. Courtesy National Archives and Records Administration

Trinity was filmed exclusively in black and white and without audio. In the main footage of the explosion, the fireball rises out of the frame before the cameraman, dazed by the sight, pans upward to follow it. The written accounts of the test, of which there are many, grapple with how to describe an experience for which no terminology had yet been invented. Some eventually settle on what would become the standard lexicon. Luis Alvarez, a physicist and future participant in the Hiroshima bombing, viewed Trinity from the air. He likened the debris cloud, which rose to a height of some thirty thousand feet in ten minutes, to “a parachute which was being blown up by a large electric fan,” noting that it “had very much the appearance of a large mushroom.” Charles Thomas, the vice-president of Monsanto, a major Manhattan Project contractor, observed the same. “It looked like a giant mushroom; the stalk was the thousands of tons of sand being sucked up by the explosion; the top of the mushroom was a flowering ball of fire,” he wrote. “It resembled a giant brain the convolutions of which were constantly changing.”

In the months before the test, the Manhattan Project scientists had estimated that their bomb would yield the equivalent of between seven hundred and five thousand tons of TNT. As it turned out, the detonation force was equal to about twenty thousand tons of TNT—four times larger than the expected maximum. The light was visible as far away as Amarillo, Texas, more than two hundred and eighty miles to the east, on the other side of a mountain range. Windows were reported broken in Silver City, New Mexico, some hundred and eighty miles to the southwest. Here, again, the written accounts converge. Thomas: “It is safe to say that nothing as terrible has been made by man before.” Lawrence: “There was restrained applause, but more a hushed murmuring bordering on reverence.” Farrell: “The strong, sustained, awesome roar … warned of doomsday and made us feel that we puny things were blasphemous.” Nevertheless, the plainclothes military police who were stationed in nearby towns reported that those who saw the light seemed to accept the government’s explanation, which was that an ammunition dump had exploded.

Trinity was only the first nuclear detonation of the summer of 1945. Two more followed, in early August, over Hiroshima and Nagasaki, killing as many as a quarter of a million people. By October, Norris Bradbury, the new director of Los Alamos, had proposed that the United States conduct “subsequent Trinity’s.” There was more to learn about the bomb, he argued, in a memo to the new coördinating council for the lab, and without the immediate pressure of making a weapon for war, “another TR might even be FUN.” A year after the test at Alamogordo, new ones began, at Bikini Atoll, in the Marshall Islands. They were not given literary names. Able, Baker, and Charlie were slated for 1946; X-ray, Yoke, and Zebra were slated for 1948. These were letters in the military radio alphabet—a clarification of who was really the master of the bomb.

Irradiated Kodak X-ray film. Courtesy National Archives and Records Administration

By 1992, the U.S. government had conducted more than a thousand nuclear tests, and other nations—China, France, the United Kingdom, and the Soviet Union—had joined in the frenzy. The last aboveground detonation took place over Lop Nur, a dried-up salt lake in northwestern China, in 1980. We are some years away, in other words, from the day when no living person will have seen that unearthly light firsthand. But Trinity left secondhand signs behind. Because the gadget exploded so close to the ground, the fireball sucked up dirt and debris. Some of it melted and settled back down, cooling into a radioactive green glass that was dubbed Trinitite, and some of it floated away. A minute quantity of the dust ended up in a river about a thousand miles east of Alamogordo, where, in early August, 1945, it was taken up into a paper mill that manufactured strawboard for Eastman Kodak. The strawboard was used to pack some of the company’s industrial X-ray film, which, when it was developed, was mottled with dark blotches and pinpoint stars—the final exposure of the first light of the nuclear age.

38 notes · View notes

dontmeantobepoliticalbut · 1 year

Text

According to an FBI affidavit, the man accused of breaking into the San Francisco home of Speaker Nancy Pelosi and her husband Paul Pelosi confessed his actions were politically motivated.

Only Paul Pelosi, 82, was home when the break-in occurred just after 2:30 a.m. on Friday. During the incident, 42-year-old David DePape struck him with a hammer and fractured his skull, according to the criminal complaint. DePape has been charged in federal court with assault and attempted kidnapping. Meanwhile, Pelosi remains hospitalized after undergoing surgery.

Right-wing media has run wild with conspiracy theories based on initial reporting that turned out to be false. According to one early account, DePape was supposedly in his underwear during the attack. That is not true. Some outlets also reported that Pelosi knew his attacker. That the Speaker was not home at the time fueled rumors that the incident was prompted by some type of lovers’ quarrel while she was away.

One article to this effect published by the notorious unreliable Santa Monica Observer was even tweeted by new Twitter owner Elon Musk, who has since deleted the tweet.

DePape’s confession debunks this rumor, per the affidavit in the complaint:

"DEPAPE stated that he was going to hold Nancy hostage and talk to her. If Nancy were to tell DEPAPE the “truth,” he would let her go, and if she “lied,” he was going to break “her kneecaps.” DEPAPE was certain that Nancy would not have told the “truth.” In the course of the interview, DEPAPE articulated he viewed Nancy as the “leader of the pack” of lies told by the Democratic Party. DEPAPE also later explained that by breaking Nancy’s kneecaps, she would then have to be wheeled into Congress, which would show other Members of Congress there were consequences to actions. DEPAPE also explained generally that he wanted to use Nancy to lure another individual to DEPAPE."

DePape explained he broke into the house through a glass door using a hammer. After he encountered Paul Pelosi, the Speaker’s husband managed to call police. When they arrived, both men were holding on to a hammer.

The affidavit added, “DEPAPE stated that he pulled the hammer away from Pelosi and swung the hammer towards Pelosi. DEPAPE explained that Pelosi’s actions resulted in Pelosi ‘taking the punishment instead.'”

Pelosi told authorities he does not know DePape.

#us politics #news #mediaite #2022 #assassination attempt #speaker nancy pelosi #rep. nancy pelosi #paul pelosi #david depape #fbi #affidavit #conspiracy theorists #conspiracy theories #fact check #Santa Monica Observer #elon musk #Twitter

32 notes · View notes

arminsumi · 2 years

Note

Had a rough day today due to failing an exam and “the time of the month” problem. Can I request a comfort one-shot of Eren x Fem!Reader where Y/N is crying on the couch in the dark after finding out she failed certification test for a job and dealing with her monthly cycle until Eren showed up wrapped in a blanket to comfort her. Then, Eren removed the blanket leaving him wearing nothing but the angel wing costume on his back as he embraced Y/N and soothing her gown causing her to smile? Ty! -🌻

Ugh that sounds like hell. Take care of yourself. (And thank you for your request!)

Comfort

Oneshot / E. Jaeger

Eren's stubborn most of the time and doesn't display affection openly, but when he knows something's wrong, he becomes so tender towards you and handles you with the utmost care.

Cws; fluff, angst, pre-est relationship (dating)

Notes; fem!Y/n, modern au

♫ Santa Monica Dream [Slowed + reverb]

The city lights began to gleam outside your apartment window. You could see them well from the comforts of the couch; but the ever-forming tears blurring your vision made them appear as a haze of colors.

Melancholy rested heavily on your conscious after today.

That job you were so excited for didn't welcome you with open arms; in fact, you were rejected so horribly that it left you feeling stupid for even bothering.

What accentuated all of this was the numbing ache of period pains in your abdomen.

The apartment felt awfully cold, and you shriveled up on the couch. You didn't bother to turn on the lights, even though the sun had long said goodbye and the moon wasn't awake tonight.

You'd been feeling your monthly cycle coming on for the past few days. The usual, you know, the aches the nausea the irritation the feeling like you're inadequate... all those feelings worsened your feeling of failure.

Just this morning you snapped at Eren because of it all, and just earlier when you came home, you told him to leave you very alone for a while.

Heaving great sighs didn't help like they usually do.

The lights outside your apartment window remained a blurry pinprick of illumination.

It grew colder, but you were in too much pain to bother getting up to close the balcony door. And, anyways, your legs felt too heavy to move.

A slight ruffling of fabric sounding from the other side of the room caught your attention, but you continued looking glumly at the lights outside.

Eren's soft presence filled the room, but you felt a bit guilty after having told him to leave you alone.

He drifted cautiously to your dwelling on the cold couch. He gave you an sympathetic sort of look. He understood everything without you needing to explain.

That's just the kind of connection you had with Eren. Words seemed unnecessary, because you two communicated through irises and feelings.

You looked at him, vision still mostly blurred with hot tears, and he looked at you. He had your favorite blanket draped around him, the one that usually resides on the bed in yours and his shared room.

He heaved a sigh, as if he was observing a wounded puppy. His jade irises uttered the utmost tenderness for you.

Eren sat down beside you gently, then swiftly took the blanket off him and engulfed you with it. It was serenely warmed by him; that wonderful tingling rippled on your skin.

But something about his embrace just made you cry harder. Your chin shriveled up and you let out tiny hiccoughs. Eren wrapped his arms around you as if to pour out all his affections through his embrace alone.

He always had this soothing scent about him. You're never sure how to describe it, but it reminded you of a meadow at sunset.

Eren swayed you in his arms a bit, then withdrew slightly so he could look down into your eyes adoringly.

"You wanna talk about it?" He asked softly.

You sniffled and hiccoughed a few more times, then let all your problems out through a cracked voice. Eren's gaze kept a loving hold on you all the while.

"... I don't know... it's stupid... I'm stupid." You said hopelessly.

Eren pinched your cheeks. He'd always done that whenever you called yourself stupid.

"You're not stupid. We just live in a ruthless world that doesn't care about us." He explained dramatically. It was a very Eren response.

You sniffled hard, the snot dribbling out your nose was annoying you, but not more than the ache in your abdomen which refused to quieten.

You stared at Eren's clothes for a bit, the familiarity of them making you feel warm.

Eren pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. His lips struck a symphony of relief across your system, and you dared to smile.

He noticed this, so he playfully annoyed your face to help bring it out.

"You're so annoying..." You mumbled through a now definite smile.

"Mhm." He hummed adoringly, "You're even more annoying." He said, then pressed another kiss on you.

Eren persuaded you off the couch, insisting that you two venture to the kitchen.

"Come on." He urged softly.

"But it's comfy here." You groaned.

He secured the blanket around you, then pulled you off the couch.

"I'll make you something to eat," He said while helping you into the tiny apartment kitchen, "Then let's get in bed and watch something good, hm?"

You were almost doubling over because of the unforgiving period pains in your body.

But Eren soothed you over and over, hushing you softly whenever you let out a groan of pain.

Each time you caught his gaze, you could feel nothing but his love and care emanating from his irises.

Because you were the girl he loved more than anything.

Eheh sorry if I rambled a bit in this one, I was just ✨in my feels✨

Anyways! Hope you're feeling better by now.

172 notes · View notes

little-miss-buffy · 2 months

Text

closed starter for @vyrulent (Lawrence Talbot)

It was all over the news. "Giant wolf spotted in uptown Los Angeles." Buffy and the rest of the Scoobies and newly awakened slayers had been in LA for two weeks and all they got was vampires. Yes, she was a vampire slayer, but vampires were practically the norm. Anything else interesting was downtown, which was Angel's territory. So, all she got were vampires. Until a giant wolf running through Brentwood made the news. Buffy knew what that meant; werewolf.

Tonight, according to Willow's locator spell, the wolf was in Santa Monica on the beach of all places. So much for discretion. Buffy, Xander, and a few others went out with the tranq gun and knocked the huge wolf out. No time was wasted as the group captured it- him or her, Buffy wasn't entirely sure- and took it back to the slayer compound in West Hollywood, hidden in the hills. In the basement, a cage was set up upon hearing about the wolf. Not a small animal cage, but a 10 x 12, steel reinforced, 3-inch bar cage originally built for Angel for something that she didn't understand and quite frankly, didn't want to. She left a blanket inside the cage for when the wolf changed back in case whoever that was wanted to cover up.

After everyone else had gone to bed, Buffy set up an air mattress across from the cage. She decided that whoever this was, she should be the one to talk to them in the morning, tell them where they were and why. After making her makeshift bed, Buffy got under the covers and observed the sleeping werewolf. This one was different than the others she encountered back in Sunnydale. They walked on two legs and were slightly more humanoid. This one was all wolf. The only reason that she knew that it wasn't a normal wolf was because of the size. Who are you? She wondered as she drifted off to sleep.

#vyrulent #lawrence talbot #//sorry it took so long!

15 notes · View notes

grits-galraisedinthesouth · 1 year

Text

The Awful Truth: Paul Pelosi Was Drunk Again, And In a Dispute With a Male Prostitute Early Friday Morning. - Santa Monica Observer

The Awful Truth: Paul Pelosi Was Drunk Again, And In a Dispute With a Male Prostitute Early Friday Morning.

"Paul Pelosi stated that he doesn't know who the male is but he advised that his name is David and that he is a friend." Yeah, right.

October 31, 2022

It Doesn't Add Up: Some People on Social Media Are Questioning Attack on Paul Pelosi

As SF's gay bars closed at 2 am, two gay men met in a bar and went home together. Happens every night in the City by the Bay. Except one of these two men, was married to House Speaker Nancy Pelosi.

I might disappear for telling you the truth. If I do, you'll all know why. But here's what really happened early Friday morning in San Francisco. IMHO--in my humble opinion.

According to SFPD "RP [Reporting Person] stated that there's a male in the home and that he's going to wait for his wife. RP stated that he doesn't know who the male is but he advised that his name is David, and that he is a friend," the dispatch official said. "RP sounded somewhat confused."

It's been a rumor for years in SF that Paul Pelosi is gay. David Depape is said to be a Castro Nudist. "The lunatic who allegedly assaulted Paul Pelosi is a Berkeley resident and a 'Former Castro Nudist Protester' and hemp 'jewelry maker' ...sounds totally MAGA Republican to me. 🤣🤣" this from Twitter.

Ok, so here's the theory, as related to me by a source: "Castro Nudists are a group of really radical gay male prostitutes that parade around naked with c--k rings. First of all, the Police did not come in response to an alarm. They come in response to a "wellness check". So someone called them to check on Pelosi."

"When he didn't answer the phone, the cops broke the sliding glass door to get in. Pelosi was struggling with the suspect, who was in his underwear.

Pelosi owned the hammer. Not Depape. Or, the male prostitute was doing something Pelosi didn't like."

"And then there was the press conference when they didn't know the mic was on. During that, a reporter confirmed that the suspect was a gay Castro Nudist, but (authorities) told him he couldn't use it."

"Now tell me something. These people are worth hundreds of millions of dollars. Nancy is third in line to the Presidency. You don't think they have the most amazing security? And by the way, when Pelosi was in that drunk driving accident, he had a young man with him, and that too was covered up by the police and the press."

"How would (suspect Depape) have been able to break a window that without triggering an alarm? He didn't. The police broke the window to gain entry. There was only one hammer, and it belonged to Pelosi. And only ONE cop quoted the perpetrator saying, "Where's Nancy?" None of the other sources said that happened. "

"And one of them could easily have broken that window. Remember, there was no alarm triggered. How would (suspect Depape) have gotten into that house without doing that? The cops smashed the glass to gain entry."

Who called 911 to initiate a wellness check? Either Nancy or her staff, who hadn't hear from Paul all evening and suddenly it's 2 am. Or a neighbor, hearing a fight at the Pelosi residence.

Admittedly, David Depape is a known nutcase. He's an election denier, says mainstream media, who has posted conspiracy theories online. That may be true, but he also lives in Berkeley, where he is a 42 year old career student.

"My law firm served a lawsuit against Paul Pelosi one time in SF after attempting to serve at other residences-Napa, Georgetown. They weren't home, but staff were, and multiple law enforcement officers were on the perimeter. Break-in is odd given this level of security." said Harmeet Dillon, Republican National Committee Chairman

https://www.smobserved.com/story/2022/10/31/opinion/the-awful-truth-paul-pelosi-was-drunk-again-and-in-a-dispute-with-a-male-prostitute-early-friday-morning/7191.html

#pelosi #paul pelosi #nancy pelosi #joe biden #obama

85 notes · View notes

christianbalefanatic · 1 year

Text

Christian Bale Keeps Trying to Quit Hollywood

He’s spent decades pretending to not be himself. Now, at 47, one of the world’s greatest actors speaks with rare candor about navigating a career he never quite chose and building a life he sometimes can't fathom.

BY ZACH BARON

PHOTOGRAPHY BY GREGORY HARRIS

October 5, 2022

Somehow, Christian Bale found himself shooting three different movies last year, but he hasn’t been on a film set in months, and he doesn’t know when he’ll be back on one, and this fact makes him happy. “I could just go forever not working,” he says. He’s a little late to meet me at this diner in Santa Monica that he’d prefer I not name because he and the director of one of those movies, David O. Russell, come here a lot to bat around scripts and people-watch. In fact, as we talk he keeps getting distracted by what those people are doing, various characters that he’s given names to, locals who frequent the place who he observes like old friends, people who don’t know who Christian Bale is and wouldn’t care if they did.

He’s wearing a dark, shapeless T-shirt and dark, shapeless pants and has enough of a beard going that he could play a Civil War general. From out of the beard peers, well, Batman. Patrick Bateman. A movie star’s face, familiar from 35 years’ worth of movies that have earned him four Oscar nominations and one win—for 2010’s The Fighter. Bale was 13 years old when he starred in Steven Spielberg’s Empire of the Sun, his first major movie role, a part he sought out and ultimately accepted because his family was in need. His life hasn’t been what you’d call normal since, but it wasn’t totally normal before either—his father, a former pilot and financial adviser, moved Bale and his siblings and his mother around the United Kingdom constantly, picking up and starting again. Bale resists self-reflection, but it’s not hard to see that kid in him still: drawn to extremes, transfixed by reinvention, motivated by fixing what happened to his family, and ambivalent about what he had to do and what he had to sacrifice in order to take care of the people he loved.

It’s also worth saying that he resists self-reflection in an absolutely delightful way. His accent is nominally Welsh, the voice more musical and mischievous than it tends to be onscreen, and in that voice he will ask you if you have children. He will ask you what your hopes and dreams are in life. He will seek out other things you’ve written and ask you detailed questions about them, all in the hopes of not talking about himself. Part of it, he says, is that he thinks that if people actually know him it will ruin whatever he’s trying to do as an actor; part of it, I think, is that he’s just genuinely not all that interested in the subject. What he wants, what he’s seeking, is obsession, or oblivion—the total erasure of the self. And let me say!…I recommend talking with people who are into oblivion. They are never once boring.

Because of all that, he doesn’t do many interviews like these, but the movies have added up, and so he’s giving it a shot. This summer he starred as the villain in Thor: Love and Thunder. This month he plays a one-eyed guy named Burt in David O. Russell’s wild new film, Amsterdam. And then at the end of the year he has a 19th-century murder mystery he shot with another frequent collaborator, the director Scott Cooper, called The Pale Blue Eye. “Which,” he says, about having three movies come out in the same year: “Nobody needs that. I don’t need it. No one else needs to see me that much.” And yet here we are.

Bale has lived in Los Angeles since the ’90s. But it’s a very specific Los Angeles. “You can live here and not be in the middle of the film community,” he says. “I’m not. I don’t have anything to do with it. I’m here because my wife is from here. If she wasn’t, we probably wouldn’t. But people sort of imagine film people swanning about, hanging out with each other all the time, talking about films, and that just makes me want to slam my head into the table.”

Christian Bale covers the November 2022 issue of GQ. Coat, $4,995, and shirt, $295, by Dolce & Gabbana.

Jacket, $6,950, and pants, $1,295, by Loro Piana. Shirt, $110, by RTH. Hat, $219, by Begg x Co. Watch, $25,900, by Vacheron Constantin. Necklace, $6,400, by David Yurman.

Well, there are actors who get into acting because they’re obsessed with movies and film people. My understanding is, that’s not your story, right?

Not true, not me, no. I’m a bit illiterate when it comes to films. I disappoint everybody with how little I know about film. I don’t think it matters. I don’t think you have to for what I do.

You’re not filming anything right now. Are you someone who is content to not work?

More than content: fucking ecstatic. I’ve always been bent on “When’s this gonna end? This has to end.” I like doing things that have nothing to do with film. And I find myself very happily not playing dress-up, not pretending to be somebody else for long lengths of time.

When you say things like “playing dress-up,” it seems like there have been times when you were almost…not embarrassed to be doing what you’re doing but—

Oh, no, flat-out embarrassed. Yes, for many years. Actually mortified. You know, I’m under no illusions either about the fact that the only reason I get noticed or feel useful in this world is when I pretend not to be me, right? Which is why doing [interviews] is such a weird thing because I’m like, “Wait a second. This is career suicide, doing this—”

Doing this interview is not career suicide.

Well, on the one hand I’m like, “Yeah, bring it on.” On the other hand I’m more like, “Eh, don’t let this be the reason.” So it’s a slow death. I’m having this very slow death in public.

But you’re answering a question about being interviewed. And I’m asking a question about you being comfortable identifying as an actor. You said, “Oh, I feel embarrassed.”

insanity of the job itself. I guess it’s the idea of what people think an actor is that’s embarrassing. I mean, how many useful jobs are there, really, in life, where you’re helping other people? Am I just creating more stupid background noise? But the acting itself, I enjoy how ridiculous it is. I love something that you can just go too far with. People are fucking fascinating. I love people, I love watching people, and I get to watch them in a way that would otherwise be perceived as verging on extremely bizarre.

When you say, “I love something that you can just go too far with,” I want to make sure I understand that.

Obsession, that’s what I mean. You get to obsess without people saying, “He needs to go in the loony bin.” Right? But, uh, is film what you love writing about? What is your thing? You know, This is what I wanna do…?

I’m doing the thing I want to do right now.

Do you have other ambitions?

This conversation is my ambition. You were saying that you anticipated having more time to make the three movies you have coming out this year, but then a pandemic happened.

We made Amsterdam right in the middle of the surge in LA. I believe we had something like 26,000 tests. Because I spoke with the COVID-safety expert, and they were breaking down all the scenes before filming in order to figure out when my mouth would be open, and saying, “Well, I see that you laugh in this scene” and then “I see you sing in this scene.” And I said, “Yeah, but I might laugh in every scene, or I might sing in every scene.” And, they said, “No, but that’s not in the script.” And I went: “No, this is going to change every day. We change every take.”

I did enjoy your singing in this film.

Oh. Thank you very much. I love singing. All I can promise whenever I do it is that you probably can hear I’m enjoying myself. That’s it. But, like Todd Haynes, for instance, I went in the recording studio for him for I’m Not There. And, aw, man, I had the best time. And I thought I nailed it. And then when I heard it, I was like, “Yeah, they got someone else in, didn’t they?” Maybe they hoped I wouldn’t even notice. They were like, “He’s so fucking tone deaf, he won’t even notice at all.” But, you know, I annoy my family enough by just singing all the time. Once I start, they have to say “Please stop” to me. Because I just love it.

I keep trying to ask you about the movies and we keep ending up talking about something else, like singing, which I suspect is somewhat intentional.

No, but it’s more interesting talking about other things other than stuff that I already know, innit?

Yeah, but I don’t know it.

Yeah.

Your last film before the three this year was 2019’s Ford v Ferrari, in which you play a very difficult race car driver. At some point the director, James Mangold, told you he was just asking you to play yourself, right?

I mean he was fucking with me a little bit there, I think, but maybe not. Though I’ve gotta say, it was our second film. We’re talking about another. We enjoy working together.

Vest, $6,590, by Tom Ford. Sweater, $995, by Ralph Lauren Purple Label. Pants, $1,500, by Greg Lauren. Watch, $75,900, by Audemars Piguet. Ring (throughout), his own.

So, you don’t actually regard yourself as difficult?

No. Not in the slightest. Absolutely not, no. I’m totally grateful and surprised that I get to keep working, right? And you have to maintain that gratitude. But within that gratitude, that mustn’t mean you let standards slip, right? It doesn’t mean you start going, “Oh, I’m so happy and grateful to be working at all, because I never expected this in my life,” which is all true. But that gratitude must turn into, therefore, “I must do things as absolutely well as I possibly can.” But you get passionate characters in the world of filmmaking, right? Because sometimes caring can come across as a certain way for people who might, uh, get a bit overexcited at times.

“I think some people mistakenly believe that I am a leading man, and it just keeps going and I don’t understand it.”

I was thinking that in some ways, the three movies you have this year—Thor, Amsterdam, The Pale Blue Eye—offer a vision of your career in a microcosm. Two are the kind of auteur-driven films we frequently see you in, and then one is a big franchise entertainment. I’m curious what draws you to the big mega-productions like Thor: Love and Thunder.

I was like, “This looks like an intriguing character; I might be able to do something with this, who knows?” And I’d liked Ragnarok. I took my son to see Ragnarok. He was climbing like a monkey all across [the seats] and then he was like, “Oh, I’ve had enough now, let’s get on.” I was like, “No, no, no. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.” I was just like, “I want to finish it.”

Some performers have gone into doing a movie like Thor and come away saying, “Great vibe. Loved the people. The green-screen acting is not for me.”

That’s the first time I’ve done that. I mean, the definition of it is monotony. You’ve got good people. You’ve got other actors who are far more experienced at it than me. Can you differentiate one day from the next? No. Absolutely not. You have no idea what to do. I couldn’t even differentiate one stage from the next. They kept saying, “You’re on Stage Three.” Well, it’s like, “Which one is that?” “The blue one.” They’re like, “Yeah. But you’re on Stage Seven.” “Which one is that?” “The blue one.” I was like, “Uh, where?”

I’m guessing there were no Method attempts to stay in character during this.

That would’ve been a pitiful attempt to do that. As I’m trying to get help getting the fangs in and out and explaining I’ve broken a nail, or I’m tripping over the tunic.

You play the villain in that movie. I feel like you’re more willing to play unlikable characters than some quote-unquote leading men.

Absolutely, yes. I’ve never quite gotten that thing from actors who I respect immensely who go like, “Oh, you gotta like your character.” And I’m like, “I don’t know if they’ll like him. I’m good not liking him.”

I wonder if this helps explain your longevity—what you do has never depended on likability.

Right. I’m always sort of confused when people are like, “Oh, I do it for my fans.” Oh, sounds so lovely. What a lovely person you must be, you’re doing it for your fans. Oh, wonderful. A big heart you must have. Well, why did you start, then? Nobody had fans at the beginning. I want people who do it for themselves. I don’t want to watch people who are doing it for me. I’m like, “How do you know what I want?” Like, surprise me with it, do it for yourself, I wanna know that this is everything to you. Like, be intense about it, go for it, do it for yourself.

Coat, $6,800, and jumpsuit, $3,600, by Prada. Boots, $499, by Le Chameau. Hat, $515, by Loro Piana.

Have you ever been drawn to the more traditional version of movie stardom?

Those are the people who actually are useful for being themselves. And then there’s people who are like me, who only ever found themselves to be useful to anybody when they decided not to be themselves, right? So, “just be yourself” is, like, the worst piece of advice you could give someone like me, because, you know, I’ve got a career because I ignored that advice and said, “No, be someone else. Be someone else.”

I suspect I know what your answer is going to be, but do you have a theory of why you’ve been so successful? Because you’re not a character actor, you do play leads in movies.

Zero strategy. I think some people mistakenly believe that I am a leading man, and it just keeps on going and I don’t understand it.

Some actors come into this business because they love movies. Some come into it because they love acting. Some come into it because they want to be famous, though they probably wouldn’t admit that. The interesting thing about you, I think, is that you’re none of those things, if I understand correctly.

Um, yeah. No. I mean, you tell me whatever you think I am, but no, you know.…

Well, my understanding is that you got into acting for other reasons that related to supporting your family.

And I’ll just nod. But, yeah. Look, me and a couple of friends, we were kinda doing these little skits. But every kid does. Every kid acts a little bit in that way. And then, just, I found myself in the position that family things…finding I can support the family through doing it: That’s why I’m doing it. And I do have an absolute love/hate relationship with it. And I think that is quite a healthy thing.

Have you ever tried to seriously get out of acting?

What does “seriously” mean? I had a couple of moments where I was like, “I never went to college. I have no education. I want to do that.” But it was short-lived. I do try occasionally and then, like, “Oh, come on.” This…I do…

You’re trying right now to say that you actually like acting?

Yeah. Yeah.

What were the family circumstances that pushed you into the industry?

Oh, different things, health stuff. Things like that. And factious Britain. That’s what it was as well.

Your dad, who was a pilot and a financial adviser, and later married Gloria Steinem—seems like he was an interesting man.

He was a character. Yes. He was full of adventure. He’s the only reason that I didn’t flinch in thinking this is possible. He wasn’t unrealistic, but he was like, “Unless you do just go for it, then of course it’s not [possible].” His influence is the reason why I never felt like, “Shit, I need to have a safety net.” He was a roamer. And he wasn’t in the right place. So we moved a fair bit. But you know what it was good for is understanding: Hey, even if you find yourself sitting in a truck, one week out of a house, where you’re having to go live on someone’s couch for a month, whatever… You go, “It will be all right.” You know? You sort it out. He was remarkable at doing that. And not being panicked about that sort of thing, which I think gave a reckless enough attitude that doing what I do didn’t seem reckless in the slightest. Oh, no work? Potentially no work forever? All good. Hey, it’s all going to be all right. So I think that definitely was the reason I have the attitude I do towards what I do now.

He died when you were still in your 20s. Did that leave a mark?

Of course. Of course. How about you? You have parents?

Shirt, $575, by Boglioli. Pants, $498, by Polo Ralph Lauren. Watch, $28,300, by Rolex.

I have parents. I also have a question for you about this, which is: Your father passes in 2003. Right around then you take some pretty extreme parts in films—I’m thinking of The Machinist, for which you lost a dangerous amount of weight, and then Rescue Dawn, which you shot with Werner Herzog in the Thai jungle. Do you feel like the two things were connected?

He certainly was never boring. And he certainly always taught me that being boring is a sin. And so maybe it did have some connection in there, you know? But I’ve always gravitated towards, you know, the fantastic dream that someone like Werner Herzog has, and how they go through it and the way they approach it and you just dig in. That reminds me of my father a great deal. Unorthodox thinkers who are going to go do it even if everyone is screaming that they’re absolutely crazy.

**You’ve supported yourself doing this for a long time, and I know sometimes you were barely getting roles, and then sometimes there were moments when you really were noticed as an actor, post–**American Psycho, for instance—

Which, by the way, that’s when I first heard of GQ. Right? As a kid, growing up in small towns, Wales, England, I didn’t know what GQ was. And so my first reference for it was that Patrick Bateman loved GQ. Right? And, and they would say things like, “Total GQ.” So I have this impression that GQ is by and for yuppie serial killers. And anyone reading this is a yuppie serial killer.

I’m sure everyone reading this appreciates that. That movie is successful in an iconic way that probably, for the first time up to that point, gave you some choices, right?

Well, in honesty, the first thing was that I’d taken so long trying to do it, and they had paid me the absolute minimum they were legally allowed to pay me. And I had a house that I was sharing with my dad and my sister and that was getting repossessed. So the first thing was: “Holy crap. I’ve got to get a bit of money,” because I’ve got American Psycho done, but I remember one time sitting in the makeup trailer and the makeup artists were laughing at me because I was getting paid less than any of them. And so that was my motivation after that. Was just: “I got to get enough that the house doesn’t get repossessed.”

For a second you were thinking of your career as “I just need to find a way to get paid.”

Yeah. It’s how I’ve supported people since I was 12, 13 years old. So it’s always been there, that element to it. There was never a moment where it was like, “I think I’d like to take four years off.” No. That just isn’t gonna happen. That’s not possible.

I’m surprised to hear that you were getting paid so little: Was that the nature of American Psycho or was it the nature of your position in the industry at the time?

Uh, it was the nature of me in it. Nobody wanted me to do it except the director. So they said they would only make it if they could pay me that amount. I was prepping for it when other people were playing the part. I was still prepping for it. And, you know, it moved on. I lost my mind. But I won it back.

One of the people who was briefly cast ahead of you in the part was Leonardo DiCaprio. I’ve seen it reported that you lost at least five roles to DiCaprio in the ’90s, including Titanic.

Oh, dude. It’s not just me. Look, to this day, any role that anybody gets, it’s only because he’s passed on it beforehand. It doesn’t matter what anyone tells you. It doesn’t matter how friendly you are with the directors. All those people that I’ve worked with multiple times, they all offered every one of those roles to him first. Right? I had one of those people actually tell me that. So, thank you, Leo, because literally, he gets to choose everything he does. And good for him, he’s phenomenal.

Jacket, $3,190, and pants, $1,690, by The Row. Shirt, $400, by Boglioli.

Did you ever take that personally?

No. Do you know how grateful I am to get any damn thing? I mean, I can’t do what he does. I wouldn’t want the exposure that he has either. And he does it magnificently. But I would suspect that almost everybody of similar age to him in Hollywood owes their careers to him passing on whatever project it is.

You broke in as a child actor and know as well as anyone how hard it is for young people to transition into being adult actors. Why do you think you were able to?

I think it hearkens back to that love/hate thing. Because I was never that kid that’s going, “Please. Yeah, I’ll do jazz hands.” I never was that. I often sabotaged things intentionally. I often just didn’t turn up, just was a no-show on stuff, on auditions and whatnot. Fucking awful at auditions as well, because it’s not how I work. I’m like, “I don’t know to do this right now, sitting here. I need to think.” But yeah, I always felt different when I would meet other kids who were doing it. I would sit there going, “Oh, fucking hell. I’m nothing like these kids, actually.” They wanted it, and I didn’t even know if I wanted it.

Eventually you moved to LA, though: How come?

I came here for work. And then I would always go back. But I never got any work back in England. And I’d always get work out here. And then I brought my dad out because, for his health, the climate and everything was much better here.

Did you socialize with other young actors or young Hollywood?

Nothing to do with it. Never met ’em. Never wanted to. If ever I found myself anywhere near it, I was like, “Nah, ah, ah, ah,” and then went the other direction. Oh, you know what? When I did Velvet Goldmine, we did all hang out. I was older by then. I was 23.

But Velvet Goldmine was a movie about a bunch of young cool people hanging out! The part required that.

Exactly. I just have found that there’s wonderful actors who chat and get to know each other and hang out and then act wonderfully. And I can’t do it. And that’s my own limitations with that. I don’t make it into a thing. I just sort of know when I’m going to not be able to separate the person from the character that they’re playing.

“Stay away from me, except for on the set.”

I’m literally like: “I can’t do this because I will be the worst actor you’ve ever seen if we keep on chatting.” You know, with Amsterdam, I had to say that to Chris Rock. I had to go there and say that to him. I fucking love his stand-up. And when he arrived I was like, “Ah, wow, great. Yeah, how you doing, man?” Chatting a little bit. And then I went to do a scene, and I went, “Oh, my God. I’m just Christian, standing here, being a fan of Chris Rock.” So I went to him. I went, “Mate, I got to keep my distance.” Have you tried swimming and laughing at the same time? I don’t know about you. I’d drown. I cannot laugh and swim at the same time. It’s that. So I had to, much as I would’ve loved to have kept on chatting and talking.

How did he react to that?

He went, “Oh, you’re pulling the asshole card. You’re going to be an asshole and not talk.” And I went, “Yeah. Sorry, mate.” And it was my loss, you know?

Now I’m imagining Chris Rock being mad at Batman. I wonder: What was it like to be at the center of something so big and culturally dominant as those three Batmanmovies you did with Christopher Nolan?

I always just felt like it was a thing that someone else did, really, in a lot of ways. I was like, “Oh, yeah. That thing happened over there. And that’s doing very well over there, I hear. That’s great.” And I’m going off to Ralphs, the supermarket, to get bananas.

Was there a part of you, when those movies really worked, that was worried that you’d be stuck being Batman forever?

Yeah, but I loved it. I loved that because I was like, “This could be it. I could never be anything but that.” And for a lot of people, I won’t. I was like, “Ah, maybe I’m going to be forced to go do something different. And maybe this fucking thing that I got forced into doing as a kid that I didn’t fucking want to do in the first place, I’m out. And I’m free.” And then it didn’t happen.

Christian Bale pulls up to the same diner in Santa Monica a few days later, a little late again, and says he’s experiencing déjà vu: “What did I say last time? I forgot my car by the freeway? That again.” Same booth. Same murky Los Angeles characters moving past the booth like sharks at an aquarium. Same Civil War beard.

“My apologies for bringing you here again,” he says. He tells me he thought about taking me dirt biking instead. “But I was like, you can’t talk with anyone when you’re doing that. You’re just going”—he mimes turning the throttle on a motorcycle. “Which maybe would be my dream.”

As it happens, he says, he used to race motorcycles himself. He holds out his left arm: “Metal, all metal, like 20, 25 screws all the way up and down.”

Your left arm is all metal?

No, the collarbone’s all titanium. [My wrist] looks like a bottle opener—if you were to open me up, there’s a big metal piece holding my wrist together, and screws in my knee as well for it. Which just shows my enthusiasm outweighed my skill. I stopped doing it after that. My daughter was very unhappy with the cost of the taxi to come to the hospital to pick me up. And, uh, told me no more spending the family money that way.

Coat, $4,200, by Salvatore Ferragamo. Vintage shirt by Abercrombie & Fitch from The Society Archive. Pants, $498, by Polo Ralph Lauren.

Do you miss it?

Ah, yes, definitely. Yeah, it’s hypnotizing, it’s absolutely wonderful. I mean, look, I definitely know that nobody would’ve enjoyed it if there wasn’t an element of danger to it, of course. Um…but it’s just enormous exhilaration. Strangely relaxing and exhilarating at the same time. Hypnotizing in a wonderful way.

[Here, my tape recorder fails and he helps me find the iPhone app to record our conversation.]

Look in the Utilities section; usually it’s there, because I use it all the time.

What do you use it for?

Just talking to myself. Also dialect stuff. Or when I’m interviewing people. I realized that after we were talking the other day because you were at one point like, “Well, I’m not going to be the one answering questions in this interview.” And usually, that’s what I’m saying. That’s how I view my job. I’m like, “No, I’m the one who interviews and listens to people and then goes and does something. But I’m not the one who gets interviewed.” That’s why I’m always trying to sort of pretend like I’m talking about something but not really saying anything. But I’ve got hoards of wonderful recordings of all the different real people I’ve played. I’m still sitting on that. And then my kids as well.

How do your kids feel about you recording them?

Oh, they love it. There’s nothing better for getting people’s attention than imitating them, right? There’s definitely moments where they’ll be ignoring you completely, and then what you do is, you do an impersonation of them. And they are spellbound. You start pretending to be them, and everybody, they lean in. It’s the instant way of getting people’s attention.

That seems like a good move for a four-time Oscar-nominated actor. I’m not sure about it for myself.

Nah, anybody. Everybody loves it. Oh, you got to try it. Think about it. If I sit with you and you realize that I’ve studied you enough that I can actually imitate you, whether it’s a good impersonation or not, but I’ve looked at you enough that I can say, “You know, Zach, this is what you’re like, and this is what you did.” And I act it out. It’s fascinating to people. They kind of go, “Oh, my God, somebody paid that much attention to me?” I think that’s what is going on in their heads. But instantly, you’ve got their attention, and then you can say whatever you wanna say after that.

That’s a funny view of humanity, that we need to be flattered before we pay attention.

You want to be seen!

You told me this is the same booth you and David O. Russell sat in to work onAmsterdam. How did you guys first meet?

I did an audition for [Three Kings] where he didn’t even want me in the room. And I actually sort of insulted him. He knew who he wanted to cast for the role. But I think he was just being polite and seeing other people. So he was busy working away on a script or whatever, letting the casting director run the show. So I sat there like, “Oh, you’ve got nothing to say? You’re sitting there doing this strong silent thing, you’re gonna say nothing?” And so he kind of looked at me, and there was a little fire in his eyes, and he says to me, “All right, you know how I want you to do it? Remember Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone?” And he slaps his hands on his face, and does the big look, and he says, “That’s the feel. I want to get that feel from this reading now.”

Someone asking you to do an audition like Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone**—that’s a “fuck you.”**

Oh, yeah. But I love him to death. And it was the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

Coat, $4,995, and shirt, $295, by Dolce & Gabbana. Necklace, $6,400, by David Yurman.

You said you guys collaborated on the Amsterdam script. You’re also a producer on the film. What does that mean?

I will qualify it by saying that, after David, I’m the person who’s been on the project longest. Does it mean I’m spending money on it? No. I’m not doing any of that. It’s more of a creative producer you would call it.

You’re a producer on The Pale Blue Eye too, right?

Again, very generously, Scott asked me. Which really comes from my working relationship with David and Scott. They both said, “Hey…yeah, have at it,” you know?

I —

Actually, sorry, sorry. I do just want to say, with David specifically, I went, “Mate, we have come up with something special. I want everything at my disposal to protect what you’ve created right now. I don’t want to find that we end up making a different film and you can’t tell me.” So yeah, I did actually say to him, “Mate, do it.” So I can’t actually say if he would have asked me or not.

Incredible.

Yeah, so I did realize that was my wishful thinking, that he would have asked. But he didn’t. But I hope I was a help and not burden to him.

“There is value in storytelling, you know? I’m going to sound like a total wanker, but the way I like to do it is, you try to destroy yourself in order to build up another character.”

The character you play in Amsterdam, Burt—that feels like a guy you can’t even write down, he’s so specific to you and your performance. I wonder where all these different guys come from. I know it’s the job, to play different parts, but that’s not what most actors actually do.

Well, there’s different approaches to this job, and each one is a good one. You get people who are just undeniably charismatic bastards, and you want them to do the same thing, and if they do something else, I get upset. I’m like, “I love you doing that one thing because that’s reliable, and that’s bloody entertaining.” And you know, that’s not how I do it, but I want all of it. I was thinking about your question about, like, “What the fuck did you do Thor for?” And—

That was not the way I phrased that question!

Well, that was the impression I was getting from the way you asked it. You were like, “Yeah, okay, what the fuck was Thor about?” But I love those films. I love them. There’s a mood and a time for every single one, and I do have a firm belief that every single kind of film can be done brilliantly.

For the record, the question was not “Why the fuck did you do Thor**?” It’s obvious that you, as a creative person navigating a creative career, would work with David O. Russell, who has already gotten you nominated for two Oscars.** Thor is less obvious.

Yeah, no. I genuinely love the films that David and I have made, you know what I mean? It’s the process of doing that because I’ve got no control over the rest of it. So it’s the process with David. Even though we’re not always having what people would term a pleasant day, but we both are absolutely there knowing that we’re totally clued into each other. And so we’re either sort of running down the beach, hugging, or it’s just not talking for weeks on end.

David is well known for having difficult sets: You mentioned Three Kings; that was a rough set for certain people. Huckabees was a rough set for certain people. American Hustle too. What is your experience of those environments?

If I can have some sense of understanding of where it’s coming from, then I do tend to attempt to be a mediator. That’s just in my nature, to try to say, “Hey, come on, let’s go and sit down and figure that out. There’s gotta be a way of making this all work.”

After American Hustle**, Amy Adams came out and said she cried many days on that set. And it’s been reported that you intervened on her behalf with David and were like, “Back off.”**

Mediator.

So that did happen? You’re nodding your head yes. Okay. Does that make you feel differently about the finished film, having seen that happen and having to intervene?

No. No, no, no. No. You’re dealing with two such incredible talents there. No, I don’t let that get in the way whatsoever. Look, if I feel like we got anywhere close—and you only ever get somewhere close to achieving; our imagination is too incredible to ever entirely achieve it—but if you get anywhere close to it, and when you’re working with people of the crazy creative talent of Amy or of David, there are gonna be upsets. But they are fucking phenomenal. Also, you got to remember, it was the nature of the characters as well. Right? Those characters were not people who back down from anything, right?

I had the experience of rewatching the film again and asking myself: Should my knowledge that Amy had a tough time with the director while making this affect my enjoyment of it?

No. No. And, by the way, that’s not me deciding for her, she’s told me that.

She said, “It’s okay, American Hustle can live on.”

Yeah. Yes. Absolutely, yeah.

What about you? How do you feel about how you handled it in retrospect?

I did what I felt was appropriate, in very Irv style.

Sweater, $3,250, by Loro Piana. Jeans, $1,550, by Balenciaga. His own sunglasses by Ray-Ban.

Your Irv role in American Hustle is comedic in a way that felt new for you.

No one had asked me for it before. So, suddenly, that happened. And people went, “Oh. Can you do that thing?” You occasionally get a role where you get to do something totally bloody different. And then that opens up a whole different menu, you know? It’s a breath of fresh air…. I think there’s also a certain amount of age that brings that out more, you know.

Last time, I asked you, do you have a theory of why you’ve been successful as a leading man. And you were very deliberately like, “I don’t.”

Well, one thing I definitely think is, I’ve never considered myself a leading man. It’s just boring. You don’t get the good parts. Even if I play a lead, I pretend I’m playing like, you know, the fourth, fifth character down, because you get more freedom. I also don’t really think about the overall effect that [a character’s] going to have. It’s for me to play around, much like animals and children do. Have tunnel vision about what you’re doing, not think about the effect you’re having. You know, I’ve learned some things, very basic—like I used to always turn away from the camera if I had a moment that I thought might be a bit embarrassing. And, you know, literally, the camera operator would have to say, “It was probably great, Christian, but we couldn’t see anything, because you keep turning your head away. Like, please, you’ve got to understand that while this might be a moment in life that somebody wants privacy for, on film, you got to let us in. All right?”

Are you talking about your own embarrassment or the character’s?

If you’re not playing an extreme exhibitionist, or perhaps someone who’s being insincere with their emotions, nobody tends to cry and turn to the whole room, you know? People recognize it’s a moment they’re having, and they cry quietly to themselves, and if you’re too aware of the camera, you turn away from the camera as well, because you go, like, “I can’t have them witness this either.” It’s just natural. Human.

You have to be 95 percent human and in character and 5 percent aware of—

We’re telling a story. And there is value in story-telling, you know? I’m going to sound like a total wanker, but the way I like to do it is, you fucking try to destroy yourself in order to then build up another character. Now, I’ve done many films that you’d look at and go, “Really? It was worth doing it for that piece of shit?” But you sort of try to destroy yourself so that you’re not bothered by humiliation anymore. You’re not embarrassed, because you are as much as possible—and I did begin the sentence with saying I’m going to sound like a wanker here—forgetting that it’s you, completely. Which actually brings me to quite a funny point, because I think, as you know, I don’t know when I last did a thing like this where I actually talk for any length of time, right? So I’m used to just ducking and diving and saying fucking nothing and pretending I’m saying something, and I’m not saying anything, and then it’s over, okay?

And after I last talked to you, there were a couple of things going on—a friend of mine was having a bit of trouble, he contacted me and needed some help and stuff, and I was thinking about that then, but then I also went, “What a terrible mistake I’ve made doing these interviews with Zach.” Like, “Oh, fuck. He deserves me to actually talk to him, and all I’m trying to do is just fucking say nothing, or just go, ‘Eh, I’ve said this before, let’s not say nothing new here at all.’ ” I love movies getting released theatrically, and I’m genuinely concerned that’s going to stop happening. The Pale Blue Eye has got the Netflix safety net. Amsterdam doesn’t. I’m going, “Oh, fuck.” People have always told me this kind of stuff helps. I never believed it. But, I was like, “Oh, well, all right.” I care. I care, you know? This is not the sort of life I get to lead playing characters. This is realpolitik world of like, “Fucking hell. I want to be able to keep doing this.” So, that was my original motivation. I went, “Yeah, all right. Okay. Maybe this is the moment for that.”

Regarding you and me—did you just tell me that you spent our last conversation trying to say nothing?

Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean?

I couldn’t tell if what you were saying is that you went home after the last one and were like, “Next time, Zach deserves the truth.”

You’re looking for something more. Not that it wasn’t the truth, but I was like, “Oh, man.” Yeah. I was like, “How do I do this but at the same time respect what you’re looking for?”

“I just don’t bother with that half-measure gear. I go, ‘Ah, nah, I’m good,’ or ‘Oh, really? Yeah, let’s go further than anyone’s gone before.’ It makes life more entertaining.”

Did you feel after our last conversation that you had successfully stymied me or avoided answering the questions?

It wasn’t that. It was territory I hadn’t been in for a long time, so I didn’t know what had happened. I was just going, “Oh, yeah.” I left kind of going, “What happened? Did I give him anything or was he like, ‘Fucking hell. There was nothing in there’?” And, by the way, should we be talking about other things? Because, I’m feeling like a very egotistical bastard.

You mean like things that are not Christian Bale?

Yeah. I don’t know, what do most people talk about? Because I feel like we’re talking about me a lot.

That is kind of the point of this exercise.

Yeah, but you can, you know, I don’t know. Is it rampant vanity going on here? I don’t know. I like being in your shoes. I like sitting down with real people and interviewing them, getting all the information, taking my tape recorder away, transcribing it, and then figuring out the character. I’m not used to someone else trying to do that to me.

I hate to break it to you but you’re a real person too.

What?!

Jacket, $3,490, by Fendi Men’s. Sweater, $1,790, by Tom Ford. Pants, $1,750, and boots, $1,590, by Balenciaga. Watch, $28,300, by Rolex.

I’m trying to think about what else we could talk about that’s not you.

Well, my interests and passions are still in the realm of me, right? For like 10 years, I’ve been trying to put together this... If I have my family history correct, one of my sisters was in foster care for a while—which should be irrelevant; you shouldn’t have to have a personal connection to care—but LA County has more foster children than [almost anywhere else] in the United States of America. And most people have no clue about that. And I came across an organization that was started after World War II in Austria. That’s SOS Children’s Villages, and I flew to Chicago and I visited them. And it’s a great organization that helps to keep siblings from being separated.

Which is a thing that apparently happened to you.

Apparently. It was an older sister. So, I have no memory, but if my family history is correct, yes. But I do want to say, actually, it shouldn’t matter. People should give a damn about kids because they’re kids, for God’s sake. Right? But I went, “All right, maybe I can buy a piece of land out here [to help start] Children’s Villages California.” I envisioned The Sound of Music and all these happy kids who’d come from trauma running around like, what are they called? The Von Trapp family? I’ve never seen the film. But then I learned I was desperately unrealistic with that. The whole point is integration into community. And so it took forever, finally, and I have wonderful partners, so we just purchased five acres and we are now building with the purpose of keeping siblings together. And if they wish to stay in that place until they’re 21, they stay there until they’re 21. So we’re putting this together now and I have to go into something which is unknown territory for me: fundraising. I’m not good at asking for help from anybody. I’ve got to learn how to do that.

Can’t you just invent a character that’s a very effective fundraiser and play that character?

Exactly. When I went through years where I wasn’t getting work, there were times when, you know, I was looking through like, “Oh, what’s my insurance policy, because the tree just fell from the neighbor’s yard?” And I was like, “I can’t read that.” But I went, “I will become a character who loves nothing more in life than reading insurance policies.” And I read it back to front, and then I called my State Farm representative and I went through it, and they were exhausted. They said, “We’ve never had anybody be this thorough with anything.” But, you’re exactly right. I have to become somebody who loves it, who loves doing that.

Listening to you talk about how deep you are in this project makes me wonder: Do you have a half-measure gear?

I just don’t bother with that half-measure gear. I go, “Ah, nah, I’m good,” or “Oh, really? Yeah, let’s go further than anyone’s gone before.” It makes life more entertaining.

Is that a taxing way to live?

I like being exhausted. I like to exhaust myself. I wanna be totally fucking used up, you know, by the end. It takes you to a place. You know what I mean?

Zach Baron is GQ’s senior staff writer.

PRODUCTION CREDITS: Photographs by Gregory Harris Styling by Mobolaji Dawodu Grooming by David Cox using Kevin Murphy Set design by Heath Mattioli for Frank Reps Produced by Patrick Mapel and Alicia Zumback at Camp Productions

#christian bale #christianbalefanatic #gq interview #interview #2022 #2020s actors #2020s icons #2020s hollywood #2020s photography #early 2020s #2020s movies #2020s films #2020s

31 notes · View notes

sunburnacoustic · 1 year

Text

Muse’s Matt Bellamy: ‘I felt that we could do no wrong. Obviously, we could’

By Mikael Wood in the L.A. Times (pasted because paywalls)

(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)

Matt Bellamy wrote Muse’s new album in a Santa Monica recording studio painstakingly decorated to resemble the so-called red room from “Twin Peaks.”

Crimson curtains, leather armchairs, black-and-white zigzag flooring: The 44-year-old frontman of one of England’s biggest rock bands reproduced every detail of the otherworldly chamber from the cult-fave TV show he remembers devouring during Muse’s first tour on a bus back in the early 2000s.

“It just sets a certain tone, you know?” he says, looking around the space with obvious pride on a recent afternoon.

Yet as Bellamy sat composing amid a thicket of electric guitars and vintage synths — including an old Roland model he says was the same used for the “Stranger Things” theme — what really inspired him was the tumult unfolding outside the studio, which he observed through an enormous one-way mirror in the building’s front wall.

This was mid-to-late 2020: Bellamy, who’s written for years about the menacing encroachments of technology and government, watched (without those on the street being able to see inside) as shops went out of business during the pandemic, as Black Lives Matter protesters marched through the city, as riot-gear-clad police and National Guard moved in to shut down demonstrations, as a man took up residence in a car parked right in front of the studio. Helicopters seemed to be circling constantly; a drone hovered over Bellamy one day as he loaded gear in through a back door.

“It was like being inside a scene from ‘RoboCop,’” he says now. “All the anxieties and the dystopian strangeness that had always been kind of speculative in our music — suddenly it felt like it was all coming true. It was actually happening.”

The result of his observations is Muse’s ninth studio album, “Will of the People,” on which Bellamy rhymes “a life in crisis” with “a deadly virus” and “tsunamis of hate are gonna drown us.” (Sample song titles include “Kill or Be Killed” and “We Are Fucking Fucked.”) But if the LP confronts a brave new world, it also knowingly looks back: Musically, the band—rounded out by bassist Chris Wolstenholme and drummer Dominic Howard—dials down the fluorescent electro-pop vibe of 2018’s “Simulation Theory” in favor of the harder, more guitar-oriented sound that made Muse a prog-metal sensation more than two decades ago.

Muse performing in Philadelphia in 2013. (Owen Sweeney / Invision via AP)

What are those so-called worst parts of Muse? Probably a tendency to veer off and experiment in areas that we’re not very experienced in. Most of [2012’s] “The 2nd Law,” for instance — classical dubstep, weird clarinet solos, whatever else is on that album. I think we felt we’d achieved so much with [the 2009 hit] “Uprising” that we could do no wrong. Obviously, we could.

You produced “Will of the People” yourself after collaborating with the producer Shellback on “Simulation Theory” and with Mutt Lange on 2015’s “Drones.” With people like that who are so successful, I think sometimes we’ve gone in the studio and been a little bit like, “OK, we’ll do just whatever you say.” In hindsight, I wish I’d been more involved and put more of our stamp on it. So we’ve kind of gone back to our safe space on this album. If we’re in complete control, it may not be the most cutting-edge or the most modern-sounding thing, but it’s the only way to guarantee that we’re gonna love it.

(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)

June 2020 was a heck of a time to bring a baby into the world. I came to America in 2010 as a single person looking to experience L.A. for a bit — and, boy, have I had an experience. Ended up with a Hollywood actress [Kate Hudson], had a baby together and the whole cliché scenario of the ups and downs of celebrity life. Then married a Texan [model Elle Evans] and had another baby. Been evacuated from my house during wildfires. Then the pandemic and the full January 6 Trump meltdown. It’s just been an unbelievable period to be here.

“Will of the People” suggests it hasn’t left you terribly optimistic about the future. It depends what your definition of optimism is. To me there’s a fighting spirit in the music, which is a form of optimism. It’s like the moment in “Rocky” when Adrian tells Rocky to win.

Do you think it’s clear to listeners who you’re fighting? In the new song “Compliance,” you’re singing sarcastically about people falling into line and doing as they’re told. It could be interpreted as an anti-woke anthem. I never thought about it that way. I thought about it in terms of the rising authoritarianism that we’re now seeing is a real thing— Trump in this country, but also Putin and the China situation. These ideologies, I feel like we kind of tested the waters in the 20th century and realized that fascism and communism are both just absolute disasters and that we don’t need to go near that stuff ever again. And yet it’s emerging.

What’s your reaction to that? I have an anti-authoritarian nature. My parents say that when I was a young child I was never very good at being told what to do. I don’t like the idea of vast centralized power that’s very far away from where I live. I come from Devon in England, which is a couple hundred miles from London. But when I went to see where my wife’s from in Paris, Texas, it’s like, Holy s—! It’s thousands of miles from the places of power in America. So the resistance to someone deciding how I should live who has no idea what my day-to-day life is — I can understand it, even though there’s a risk of it being hijacked by more extremist factions that have gone down roads I don’t agree with.

Have you considered becoming a U.S. citizen? I have. Overall, I actually think the United States’ structure is really amazing, with all the different ways to make laws at the local level. It seems like every month my wife is voting on some sort of proposition. I’m looking at that going, Wow, England is so behind on that front. We don’t ever get to vote on policy.

The oddest thing about that late-2020 period where things in America and California seemed so chaotic and crazy was that I felt my connection deepening. There’s something going on here that is critical to what’s happening in the entire world. America has become a kind of center point for this idea that there’s an empire on the verge of collapse, and how do we save it? Or how do we know which parts to save and which parts to let fall away?

For some people — Dom, to some extent — it made them want to get out. But for me it had the opposite effect. It’s everything I’m interested in, and it’s massively creatively inspiring.

Has becoming wealthy shaped your political views? I don’t think so. I remember all my feelings of what it was to be from a poor rural background with no opportunities and all the disadvantages. And I still have some views that would be considered pretty socialist by some. Universal health care is an obvious one; I can’t even believe there’s not universal healthcare here. I’ve also come to the view that maybe land shouldn’t be privately owned.

Can you relate to music that’s unambiguously joyful? Coldplay, let’s say. Absolutely. Chris [Martin] is a friend of mine. I love what they do. I wish I could write more songs that enter the love sphere. But I think it might be against the nature of the sounds our band makes. When the three of us are jamming, it’s like Rage Against the Machine riffs are coming out all the time. I can’t imagine hearing those riffs with Chris Martin singing about peace and love on top.

What’s the happiest Muse song? “Starlight” is pretty positive. I think “Verona” on the new album is pretty nice — little bit of “Romeo and Juliet” in there.

Do you think rock music is in good hands with the generation behind yours? My 11-year-old son likes Slipknot and Metallica. My stepson Ryder from a previous situation [with Hudson], he’s 18 and he’s really into rock. He turned me on to Willow Smith.

Can you envision touring in your 60s and 70s like Paul McCartney and the Rolling Stones? Yeah, but Metallica is the one that’s really made me think we could do it. The Stones and McCartney, they have universally uplifting music. But Metallica — I’m not sure how old they are, but they’re up there — that’s really heavy music and they’re still out there. The great thing about rock is that, even though the genre is largely irrelevant in the mainstream, you can actually grow old with it. You can make a real life career.

#Muse interviews #matt bellamy #muse band #Will Of The People #some parts of this interview were really interesting/slaps in the face #Like where Matt talks about feeling invincible roughly around albums 4-6 #It did really feel like that (I’ve talked about this before): Muse could do no wrong. The world was at their feet!#When he says ‘we could’ - he’s obviously talking about T2L and the way fans weren’t too pleased with it.#That’s disappointing to hear though. T2L is hardly an album to be dismissed.#It’s literally the only direction Muse could’ve gone in after The Resistance #Idk I think they got caught up in an era where rock bands were dwindling and 00s guitar fans were resentful of that synthy sound #(I blame the EDM boom) and so Muse genuinely interpreting ‘heavy’ as a kind of sound not solely connected to distorted guitars #Fell on its arse when in fact it was brilliant. I see nothing wrong with e.g. Unsustainable; Matt is 100% right when he says it’s heavy.#And of course his thoughts on America and the America he sees around him. His take on it as a non-American. Quite interesting #And on production and why Muse self-produce albums #muse #WOTP

29 notes · View notes