#Villa Elvira
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SUBE: Las delegaciones entregarán tarjetas y hacer trámites relativos
#LaPlata #Servicios | #SUBE: Las delegaciones entregarán tarjetas y hacer trámites relativos
Ante el faltante de tarjetas SUBE, la Municipalidad de La Plata amplió la atención a los distinto delegaciones comunales y el casco urbano. Dónde están las oficinas y qué gestiones se pueden realizar. Presentando el DNI, en los puntos SUBE emplazados en las delegaciones se podrá concretar el registro de usuarios nuevos, solicitar la baja por robo, pérdida o deterioro, realizar reclamos y validar…
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#Arana#delegaciones#El Rincón#Gonnet#Hernández#La Plata#Planeamiento Urbano#Ringuelet#Romero#San Carlos#SUBE#tarjetas SUBE#Terminal de Omnibus#Tolosa#Villa Castells#Villa Elvira
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Tarot of Destiny / Chapter 10 - Partner to Monopolize
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Lucas: “Sorry to keep you waiting, my lord.”
> “Ah, Lucas”
Lucas: "Fufu…
You've been receiving the thoughts of the butlers, one after another. Each person's thoughts are very sincere and positive, but... even continuing to accept them must be quite a lot for you, isn't it?"
> "Actually I'm pleased"
Lucas: "That's good. Then I will also… express my true feelings to you, my lord ♪
Now, please take a look here.
The tarot card I received is... 'The Hierophant' in the ‘upright position’. The meaning of this card is... 'Highly cooperative' and 'Refined mind,' among other things.
Fufu. The meaning of the card that represents me is 'highly cooperative,' huh? I couldn't have imagined that from my past self. It made me laugh ♪
But at the same time... I feel proud. I truly feel that I've grown mentally... and it's been the same since I met you.
Due to the incident with Lato... I feel that I've grown as a person. At that time... thanks to you pushing my back... I was able to overcome the long-standing barrier between Miyaji and me.
Something I had always imagined but never faced, my wish finally came true. You gave me the courage I lacked... and it's you, my lord, who prompted me to further personal growth. You are... truly an amazing person.
If you hadn't come to this world... we would have struggled in a more miserable reality. You, my lord, are an irreplaceable presence not only to us, but to everyone living in this world.
Fufu... do you think it's an exaggeration? But it's the truth.
I can't thank you enough for meeting us... Thank you very much. Being able to have this moment with you all to myself... What a blissful time it is.
I wish I could always... just be with you alone."
> “Lu-Lucas…?”
Lucas: "Fufu ♪
Just kidding ♪
I truly want to monopolize you, but... Nac and Lamli also restrained themselves... so I can't be that selfish.
I am 'The Hierophant', after all. I have to show a cooperative attitude ♪
Well then, I'll go and call the two who are waiting over there.
Fufu... Nevertheless, I think I've truly earned that 'highly cooperative.' I can suppress such strong desires... for the sake of others ♪"
[A little while later]
Clack… clack… clack…
Nac: “With this, I think we third-floor butlers have conveyed our feelings quite well."
Lamli: "Yup, yup! I feel refreshed!
But... I wonder how this leads to saving the lord?"
Nac: "How about it? My lord. After hearing the butlers' stories so far...
Did you find anything that could be a clue?"
> "I wonder…”
Ms. Elvira said that ‘You already have the answer that will save the lord from an ominous fate.'
But... for now, there's nothing that seems to lead to an answer... I can't think of anything.
Nac: "Is that so... Still, there are the butlers from the basement and the villa left."
Lamli: "That's right! We'll definitely find a way to save the lord! Besides, no matter what happens... We will always protect you!"
> "Thank you, Lamli"
Lucas: "Fufu... 'Looking back on ourselves and conveying feelings to the lord'...
We started this to save the lord from an ominous fate, but unexpectedly, it became an opportunity to look back on how 'we were saved by the lord'."
Nac: "Yes. Just as Mr. Lucas says."
Lamli: “A lot has happened in these two years~
Thanks to the lord, I've grown a lot too!"
Nac: "Well... I can vouch that point as well. But there's still a lot of room for you to improve."
Lamli: "Yeah, yeah. Nac's still as naggy as ever~."
Nac: "If you change your attitude, you won't have to hear my nagging."
Lucas: "Oh well ♪
You two are still the same as always ♪"
Nac: "Oops... I'm sorry, my lord. I apologize for showing you an unsightly side."
Lamli: "I'm sorry for Nac's behavior, my lord!"
I felt a little relieved… watching the butlers who were behaving as usual.
Each of them carries a heavy past... their backgrounds and personalities are different, but... after spending two years together... they show their gratitude for meeting me.
For their sake too... I wanted to avoid the fate where we had to part ways.
Knock, knock
Flure: "Excuse me, my lord. I've come to pick you up... Is it alright now?"
Lamli: "It's Mr. Ribbon! Yup, it's okay now~ ♪"
Nac: "I'll rely on you for the escort to the next temple."
Lucas: "Yes. Do your best, Flure.
You'll be talking with the lord alone...
And you might think, 'I want it to be just the two of us like this forever,' but... endure that feeling... don't succumb to your desires.”
Flure: "Huh? Um... Y-Yes... Understood...
W-well then, my lord! Please ride my horse this time. I'll guide you to the 'Earth Temple'."
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i'm trying to listen to/watch more media in Spanish so i would love any Spanish music recs. especially if it's Voyager flavored.
Ahaha, you've come to the right a place!
Alright, they are only Voyager flavored in my mind, but I can explain all of them if need be. My music tastes also sometimes leans pretty Chilean, which is a notoriously difficult Spanish dialect to understand. Also, sometimes it's just a line or two that I'll end up thinking about or it only corresponds to a certain scene.
Believe it or not, a non-exhaustive list:
Aleks Syntek - Historias de danzón y de arrabal
Arquero - Star trek (lol)
Bersuit Vergarabat - Mi caramelo
Calle 13 - La vuelta al mundo, Me vieron cruzar, La vida (respira el momento)
Carlos Vives - Cuando nos volvamos a encontrar
Elvira López - Loica valiente, Piel de pájaro, Distancia pactada,, Chueco, Norte
Fannu Lu - Fanfarrón
Fito Paez - A rodar mi vida
Fonseca - Te mando flores, Simples corazones
Gepe - Buena memoria, Un amor violento, Alfabeto
Jorge Drexler - Pongamos que hablo de Martínez
Julieta Venegas - Me voy, El presente
La Guacha - Amor platónico, Desaparecer, Corazón mezquino, Ay amor
Los Enanitos Verdes - Te ví en un tren
Los Rodríguez - Dulce condena
Los Totora - No hay mas nada
Los Vásquez - Miénteme una vez
María Isabel - Antes Muerta Que Sencilla (This is a meme song)
Mexican Institute of Sound ft. Lila Downs - Cariñito
Mon Laferte - Flaco, Vendaval, Mi buen amor, Si tú me quisieras, Pa' dónde se fue, Palomita, Por qué me fui a enamorar de ti, Cumbia para olvidar, Love, Se me va a quemar el corazón
Morat - Cuando nadie ve
Natalia LaFourcade - Nunca es suficiente
Paté de Fuá - No me platiques más, El extranjero
Pillanes - Loro (This is where my "el cerro es tan alto y yo soy tan pequeño tag comes from)
Riccardo Cocciante - Cuerpo sin alma
Rosalía - Bagdad
Schuster - Me enamoré
Silvio Rodríguez - Ojalá
Villa Cariño - Serenata cruel
Violeta Parra - Que pena siente el alma, La Jardinera (though I prefer a cover version by Juanafé)
Ok this got outta hand even after I made some cuts, my bad. I can also explain/translate/transcribe any of them (since some don't have lyrics online) and my Trek connections though
#Like 50 songs in i realized i should have made a playlist my bad#i can make it into a shorter list too#this doesn't even represent the whole scope of spanish language music i listen to honestly and i'm a lil insecure about my music tastes#clearly have some artists who resonate more with the themes#and this is all voyager not sure how well i could compile a list for another show/character#i could probably write mini essays about the connections i have a lot of thoughts about everything all the time#i also realize this says A LOT about me#soooo many situationship songs lolol#melts into oblivion
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21° Molise Cinema 2023
Paesi in lungo - Concorso opere prime e seconde
In concorso:
Come pecore in mezzo ai lupi
Regia: Lyda Patitucci
Interpreti: Isabella Ragonese, Andrea Arcangeli, Carolina Michelangeli, Aleksander Gavranic, Clara Ponsot, Gabriele Portoghese, Imma Villa, Tommaso Ragno, 100’
Disco boy
Regia: Giacomo Abbruzzese
Interpreti: Franz Rogowski, Morr Ndiaye, Laetitia Ky, Leon Lucev, Matteo Olivetti, Robert Wieckiewicz, Mutamba Kalonji, Michal Balicki, 91’
La lunga corsa
Regia: Andrea Magnani
Interpreti: Adriano Tardiolo, Giovanni Calcagno, Nina Naboka, Barbora Bobulova, Gianluca Gobbi, Aylin Prandi, Stefano Cassetti, Maksim Kostyunin, 88’
Margini
Regia: Niccolò Falsetti
Interpreti: Francesco Turbanti, Emanuele Linfatti, Matteo Creatini, Silvia D'Amico, Nicola Rignanese, Paolo Cioni, Aurora Malianni, Valentina Carnelutti, 91’
Piano piano
Regia: Nicola Prosatore
Interpreti: Dominique Donnarumma, Giuseppe Pirozzi, Antonio De Matteo, Antonia Truppo, Giovanni Esposito, Lello Arena, Massimiliano Caiazzo, 84’
I pionieri
Regia: Luca Scivoletto
Interpreti: Mattia Bonaventura, Francesco Cilia, Danilo Di Vita, Matilde Sofia Fazio, Peppino Mazzotta, Lorenza Indovina, Eleonora Danco, Elvira Camarrone, Maurizio Bologna, Tim Daish, Claudio Bigagli, Beth Mc Creton, 86’
Fuori concorso:
Mixed by Erry
Regia: Sydney Sibilia
Luigi D'Oriano, Emanuele Palumbo, Giuseppe Arena, Francesco Di Leva, Greta Esposito, Cristiana Dell’Anna, Adriano Pantaleo, Chiara Celotto, Fabrizio Gifuni, Adriano Saleri, 110’.
#molise cinema#concorso#fuori concorso#2023#come pecore in mezzo ai lupi#disco boy#la lunga corsa#margini#piano piano#i pionieri#mixed by erry#lyda patitucci#giacomo abbruzzese#andrea magnani#niccolò falsetti#nicola prosatore#luca scivoletto#sydney sibilia
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Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
Don Giovanni
Bryn Terfel, Renée Fleming, Ferruccio Furlanetto, Solveig Kringelborn, Paul Groves, Hei-Kyung Hong, John Relyea, Sergei Koptchak
The Metropolitan Opera Orchestra and Chorus, James Levine
Production by Franco Zeffirelli, 2000
Act 1 - C. The Open Country - 2. Don Giovanni seduces Zerlina
(and get cockblock)
Don Giovanni sends everyone else off to be wined and dined at his house, instructing Leporello specially to look after Masetto, who is understandably resentful.
Telling Zerlina he will make her his wife, Giovanni invites her to his villa. Her initial reluctance fades and, charmed, she agrees to go.
But as they are leaving Elvira enters, denounces Giovanni to Zerlina, and leads her off.
Index - Next Scene
#GIFetto#wolfgang amadeus mozart#orchestra#Opera#Don Giovanni#Bryn Terfel#Zerlina#Hei-Kyung Hong#Donna Elvira#Solveig Kringelborn#Masetto#John Relyea#Met Opera
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Cristo y Rey (2022)
@asongofstarkandtargaryen there's a new upcoming series with Belén Cuesta and Jaime Lorente, and they play the leading couple, Bárbara Rey and Ángel Cristo.
Synopsis
Madrid, 1979. Ángel Cristo is the most famous circus tamer of the county. Bárbara Rey, actress and muse of uncovering, the most desired woman in Spain. From the time they meet until they announce their marriage, only a few weeks pass. It is the wedding of the year and the news covers the covers of all the magazines. The Circus of Bárbara Rey and Ángel Cristo becomes the fashion show; a million dollar business money, fame, luxury…
Nine years of relationship in which Spain witnessed the happiness of the couple: the birth of Angelito and Sofía, the purchase of sports cars, jewelry, an ostentatious villa in La Moraleja… Far from the flashes, however, there is an escalation of drug addiction, gambling, infidelity and abuse...
And, in the background, the shadow of Barbara's relationship with Juan Carlos I (she was the king's lover between 1976 and 1994)
Cast
Belén Cuesta as Bárbara Rey (Totana, Murcia, 2th February 1950-), artistic name of María García García, daughter of Andrés García Valenzuela and Salvadora García Molina. She firstly started her career as a dancer, but then she became an actress, vedette & tv presenter on theatres, cinema and tv shows, and during her marriage with Ángel Cristo she became an elephant tamer.
Jaime Lorente as Ángel Cristo (Huelva, Andalucía, 17th October 1944- Alcorcón, Madrid, 4th May 2010), artistic name of Ángel Papadopoulos Dordid, son of Christoforo Papadopoulos Stanovich a Greek of Romani descent trapeze artist and the Spanish contortionist Margarita Dordid. They were a family of famous circus performers. Christoforo's brother, Miro who owned the Circus Florida, married also a woman from Málaga called Canela Remedios Vaquero and has 8 children together, some of them became very famous, like their eldest daughter, María del Pino Papadopoulos Vázquez known as "Miss Mara" who became an internationally famous trapeze artist and some of her brothers formed a group of phonanbulists called "Tonitos".
Ángel he received the Gold Medal of the International Circus Festival in 1982 and founded his own circus, the Russian Circus.
Adriana Torrebejano as Chelo García Cortés, a queer journalist and tv presenter who had a brief love affair with Bárbara Rey in the 80's. Chelo was in a relationship with the tv journalist José Manuel Parada Rodríguez during those years but it's said that she came out of the closet because of Bárbara and then she ended up broking up with her partner.
Artur Busquets as Francisco Javier García-Ontiveros "Payasito" (Little Clown), Ángel's best friend and a member of the Russian Circus.
Chema Adeva as Christoforo "Cristo" Papadopoulos Stanovich
Belén Ponce de León as Margarita Dordid "the little Carolina"
Vicente Vergará as Andrés García Valenzuela
Diana Peñalver as Salvadora García Molina
José Milan as Blasco
Cristóbal Suárez as Juan Carlos I
Salomé Jiménez as Queen Sofía
Secun de la Rosa as Richardi
David Lorente as Paco Ostos
Ana Carrasco as Hortensia
Mirela Balic as Cata
Antonio Buil as Mancuso
Elvira Cuadrupani as Patri Veracruz
Jesús Castro as bullfighter Francisco Rivera "Paquirri"
Julián Teurlais as Doctor 1
Data sheet
Creator/Showrunner: Daniel Écija
Executive production: Montse García and Daniel Écija
Script coordinator: Andrés Martín Soto and Patricia Trueba
Screenplay: Daniel Écija, Andrés Martín Soto, Patricia Trueba, César Mendizábal, Iñaki San Román, Ángel Gasco-Coloma
Direction: David Molina and Manu Gómez
Production Direction: Salvador Gómez
Casting direction: Ana Sainz-Trápaga and Patricia Álvarez de Miranda
Director of Photography: Tommie Ferreras
AEC, 2nd unit: Ismael Issa
Art Direction: Koldo Valles
Costume Design: Loles Garcia
Makeup and costume design: Romana González 'Pato' and Antonio Panizza
Music: Daniel Sánchez De La Hera
Sound: Néstor Luz
Editor: Fernando Márquez
Special Effects (VFX): Jordi San Agustín and Álvaro Vicario
#series#period dramas#belén cuesta#jaime lorente#bárbara rey#ángel cristo#biopics#cristo y rey 2022#upcoming series#secun de la rosa#artur busquets#adriana torrebajano#david lorente#elvira cuadrupani#chema adeva#salomé jiménez#ana carrasco#josé milan#antonio buil#mirela balic#belén ponce de león#vicente vergará#diana peñalver#jesús castro#julián teurlais
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PIXILLATED, pt 02
by me, maybe under the pen name Caesar Train Magenta, idk
CONTENT WARNINGS: fetishization of busty women, a trans woman having to be closeted, organized crime.
Chapter One: Adulting
Bobbi was very gay. She’d never thought of herself that way, though it was an obvious enough thing to believe. A homophobe would compare her assigned gender to her interest in dressing lady-like and have some choice slurs. But she only came to think of herself as more woman than crossdresser within the last few years—well past the bloom of her youth—in response to the increased visibility of transgender women in popular culture. And what is a woman who loves only women? Gay, Bobbi.
And so she realized this one day as she got up for work, trading the feminine undergarments she slept in for closeted manly drag. She wasn’t feeling great about having to look in the mirror to shave, and took a moment to breathe in the presence of womanhood. There she was, still in a grog of dream sauce, wobbling on pink-socked feet beneath a giant poster of Dolly Parton that spanned from the wall above her bathroom door onto the ceiling, looking down like God from the Sistine Chapel. She could almost feel Dolly’s peroxide blonde tresses falling around her face as they sweetly kissed, big breasts pressed between them, and thought that she’d gladly marry that lady, even in her very advanced age. It was a love inspired by the physical, but transcending it. Bobbi was certain of that.
But it was one of many gay little fantasies, several of which were depicted in posters around her room—Elvira, Tawny Kitaen, Julie Strain, Shannon Tweed, Anna Nicole Smith, and a coterie of less famous womanly women. The dream girls were left behind as she trudged into the bathroom to get Roberted enough for banking.
The mirror was not Bobbi’s friend in the morning. Early fifties, thick and thin in the ways typical of old men, chin a bit too strong, forehead a bit too tall, some deep lines coming in. But the true wrinkles and loose skin of old age hadn’t set in, and the hair she had was thick and curly. That was one blessing from nature—the wild mess of her hair in the morning resembled the teased-out mops of her favorite ’80s and ’90s ladies. But it had to be tamed into a sleazy-looking ponytail for work, with copious product. Soon she would look like a ginger Steven Seagal.
Bobbi’s condo was a tiny thing in downtown Villa Coneja, California. The town was dull, flat, and semi-rural, but for a strip of six to twelve story modern buildings in the middle, like something out of Ohio. Her condo was in the third tallest building in town, a one bedroom which she treated like a studio with a very large walk-in closet. She stepped out in Robert mode, only one block from the bank where she worked in the second tallest building in town. The nearest structures gleamed blue, black, white, and mirrored in the early morning shadows, and planter flowers hanging from street lamps buzzed with fat insects.
“Morning, Robert.”
“Howdy, Bob.”
Familiar people dogged her all the way to her little office on the seventh floor. Accept your identity, be whoever makes us the most comfortable. She closed the office door and rubbed her face. Just eight and a half hours to go.
A rap at the door and it opened, not waiting for a response. It was Steve. “Bagels and donuts at the meeting, big guy. You ready for this?”
“Don’t be a morning person, Steve. Nobody likes that.”
The younger man laughed as he walked away, firing finger guns through the tinted window beside Bobbi’s door. There was a ceiling to floor Venetian blind there and she deployed it, with a burst of dust.
But he had her. She’d forgotten about the meeting, and it was time. It’s not like she had to do a presentation or be a center of attention at this meeting. It was just jaw-grindingly dull. She felt like ripping up paper or kicking holes in the table with her knee, but had to resist.
Time is the enemy. Life is poured from one cup into another and back again, losing a drop here and a drop there until nothing is left. Bobbi got older as the day progressed. What are we doing to make up for these quarterly shortfalls? What have you done for Harvest Bounty Bank lately? How is your agenda today going to contribute to corporate profitability and your job security tomorrow?
She had paperwork to do until well after noon, just processing the business she’d already initiated, not doing anything new to push those profits, and she felt like the boss was looking over her shoulder about it. But she recognized it was just a feeling. Running a bank of any size was a license to print money, and the boss was surely just racking up a bar tab on company credit cards and eating hundred dollar steaks.
In the late afternoon daylight slammed her office, penetrating the blinds no matter how tightly they were screwed shut. The AC pushed the atmosphere around in sludgy invisible chunks of alternating bitter liquid nitrogen cold and stifling muggy heat. The clock moved backward.
A light rap at the door. Must be Helen. “Come in.”
It was not Helen. It was your four o’clock, Bobbi. The woman came into the room tentatively, then more boldly, and took a seat without waiting to be invited. She crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair, but didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands, as if she still had the body memory of striking up a cigarette in those situations from decades in the past.
The woman was tall, near six feet and solidly built, but showing the first signs of decrepitude at sixtyish years old, her back hunched forward at the neck and her skin going thin and dry. She was tall-featured, beautiful, and Asian, with a dark blazer and skirt over a less formal mustard yellow shirt that revealed weather-beaten but substantial cleavage.
As she moved her mouth to form words, creases flicked in and out of existence at the corners of it, but her lips and teeth were fascinating, pulling Bobbi into her words immediately. Her silver and dark grey hair was in a large but tame curly bob.
“I’m Julia, Mr. Schultz. Robert?”
“Yes. You were here for ... Lefebvre Entertainment?,” she read off her monitor as subtly as she could.
“That’s us,” she winced and her eyes did a little dance before she regained focus. Not happy at work. “We’re always profitable, but there have been some shifts in the market we need to catch up with. I’m sure we can sew this up pretty quickly. You saw my application? The numbers?”
Bobbi shook a fugue out of her head. “Yeah, that’s right. Strong numbers, but..,” she tried to remember what had bothered her about the application, “I’m led to wonder what kind of entertainment Lefebvre produces. The numbers were too strong for a small commercial studio, but too weak for...”
“Adult entertainment, yes. This bank is spitting distance from the San Fernando Valley. Let’s not mince words.” She crossed her arms and gazed into her eyes with cold fire.
“So you are in adult entertainment. I don’t think this bank is a good fit for—”
“Nobody in this office has ever signed off on a loan for this industry? What would be the harm? I get that nobody wants to be the first, but all your bank would ever see of what we do is our name on the records. It’s nothing, and we wouldn’t advertise who it is we’re banking with.”
Bobbi leaned back and sighed, looking away. “You understand, I’m very unlikely to say yes here. But I am curious. Why the low numbers?”
“No video. The CEO was never interested in moving pictures, and I guess he imagined more of the public was on his page than not. He guessed wrong, but his willingness to pivot now should tell you he’s competent enough to make money in an industry where it’s just about impossible to lose it.” She shrugged and let her arms fall at her sides. “Robert, look at me.”
Bobbi looked into her eyes again, and was held fast. Something in Julia was holding her by the shoulders with strong, cold hands. “I don’t know what I should be saying,” said Bobbi. “You’re lovely and earnest and tough, I can tell you’re great at business, and I respect you too much to want to waste your time.” She felt like a nerdy boy again, falling to pieces in front of a girl he liked, knowing all hope was about to be lost.
Julia smiled. “You’re not a Robert, are you? You’re more of a Bobby.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Be a Bobby, dear, and humor me for a moment. If you were considering a business loan and had doubts about that business, what would you do to settle those doubts?”
She gulped and fumbled with her fingers, the sweat in her hair suddenly going cold.
Julia continued, “We work in the evening. Come and see the studio, look over the boss’s numbers, whatever. What do you say? My car or yours?”
“I don’t—”
“My Lexus is really nice. Just a few thousand miles, AC works on a dime.”
“—own a car.”
“I had a notion.” She stood tall—not quite as tall as Bobbi but making her feel like a pitiful gnome in that moment—and stretched. As much as Julia had been all business on the way in, Bobbi could tell then that she had breast implants. She almost fell out of her seat.
“I shouldn’t,” she croaked.
“But you will. It’s no big deal.” Julia’s voice was crisp, heady, and subtly smoky.
Bobbi was in her disgusting afternoon orange office space, too hot and too cold, oppressed by everything, but she had been flicked halfway out of the picture frame. The world had taken on a new dimension for which she was totally unprepared.
She let herself be seduced by this senior citizen, knowing full well there was no hot sexy reward at the end of this trip. The lady was a CFO in a scuzzy industry, using sex appeal just far enough to take care of business. Unless Bobbi signed off on the loan, they were both wasting their time, and who knew what the mobbish creeps of that business would do if she went into the dragon’s lair and said no?
A world of possibilities, all bad, but Bobbi dragged herself upright and followed the sinister woman like a dog.
Julia whipped the Lexus like a true Californian - speed limits were as well-observed as antique laws about where you can wash your donkey. Maybe if the highways weren’t scorching hells ashimmer with rivers of blood and broken glass, Bobbi would have learned to drive. She always had to unfocus and pretend she was on a carnival ride when somebody drove her somewhere.
“Relax, Bobby. I could tell you were having no fun in the office. This is just a little change of scenery for you. Stepping out for a breather. But you have to remember to breathe.” Again she seemed for a moment like she wanted to light a cigarette or hand one to her passenger. She shrugged it off and zipped around somebody who dared to only do sixty-five in a forty-five zone.
“I’m breathing, I’m breathing. Are we going all the way to San Fernando?”
“Yeah, we’re going all the way.” She snorted at the double-entendre. Too self-aware to be a Bond femme fatale. “Tell me about yourself, buddy. We might get hung up on the highway for an hour.”
“Let’s wait until we’re actually in the gridlock. I’d hate to distract you at these speeds.”
“What?” She looked away from the road long enough to accidentally murder several car lengths of school children. “Where are you from Bobby?”
“Idaho.”
“I’d drive so fast if I lived there.”
“That’s nice.”
Julia was right. Congestion was predictable. Californians drove so fast because they knew it could stop dead for hours and hours depending on where and when they had to go. They reached a point where they were sitting still for ten minutes at a time between moments of inching speed. Her music was just the mild-mannered office lady part of the dial, a blend of soft pop ballads from the eighties through the tens, and she turned it down to a murmur so they could talk.
“It’s time, Bobby. Talk to me like we’re going to do business together, whatever happens next.”
Bobbi cracked her neck and tried to relax into the seat. She looked at Julia with friendly resignation. “Sure. I could ask you about your kids maybe?”
Julia pursed her lips and looked very old for a moment. “How about yours, Bobby?”
“Never had ’em, but people usually like to talk about theirs. Not you? You don’t have to tell me why.”
“I can’t imagine you’ve never had kids. You have it all sorted out, Bobby. Financial responsibility. Hygiene. Basic social skills. It’s a low bar for men. Unless..?”
“Not gay but the relationships never go that far. I admit, I gave up. But that’s not your story, is it?”
“You got me. I had a daughter at a bad moment in life. She ended up in the system. I don’t even know where she is anymore, but I don’t know if we ever loved each other, so what does it matter?”
“I’m sorry. This isn’t going well. And here we are, stuck in the car, unable to just leave the awkward situation, right? What would you like to talk about, Julia?”
“Thanks, Bobby. Well, now I’m all curious why your relationships don’t last. Irresponsible? Unromantic? Unfaithful? Strange fetish?”
“I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Strange fetish it is. It’s OK Bobby. You don’t have to tell me. This trip shouldn’t be too sexy for you to handle. The photography we do is very vanilla.”
“I like vanilla.”
“Sure you do, kiddo. I don’t imagine you have opinions about baseball.”
“Do you?”
“Or cars. What do we even have in common?” Julia regarded her sadly.
“We’re stuck in traffic. And I feel like we’re both trying to like each other?”
“We are. And I do, Bobby. You’re alright, whatever weird toys you have in the closet.”
“Hehe. Thanks, Julia.” She blushed.
“We could talk about your toys.”
“Oh my god, I don’t know about that.” She shifted in her seat.
“I could go first.”
Bobbi tugged at the collar of her shirt. “I definitely wouldn’t talk with a client about that.”
“Heehee. It’s OK, babe. Let’s just listen to these vocoder kids moan about love.”
“Good idea. And I do like you, so remember that.”
“Right back atcha, Bobby.”
They tore through a neighborhood of weedy yards where some black kids had to break up a kickball game to avoid turning into red smears beneath her wheels, coming to a corporate park with no signage except for an unrelated printing press. Lefebvre Entertainment didn’t want to be seen. She had a reserved parking spot but couldn’t quite tokyo drift into position.
Bobbi recovered her land legs and followed Julia to the back side of the building. Julia called somebody on her phone. “I’m bringing a lender to meet Aubrey. Now. We can wait a bit, but I’ll want to get in... Mmhm. Thank you.” She dropped the phone in her purse. “Think you can keep it in your pants, in a place of sexy business?”
“Of course.”
“I knew you were a good kid, Bobby.”
Julia led her to a big loading dock with the metal gate rolled down, and unlocked a small steel door beside it with an RFID dongle. She held the door open for her. Bobbi went in, feeling cold inside despite the hot weather.
The loading dock floor had been converted to a series of photography sets. Industrial HVAC kept the place cold in spite of the massive banks of bright lights. Two shoots were going on at the same time, with young ladies in various states of undress, going through all the poses a director could think of, while camera operators took hundreds of shots per minute. Julia led Bobbi up a ramp beside the proceedings, onto the loading dock proper, where most of the space was taken up by equipment. Between the thick metal stands they could see glimpses of the girls doing what they do. It was all so remote, the idea it should make someone horny seemed laughable.
Then they went into a wood-paneled hallway, around a corner into a broader continuation of the same—this part hung with fake plants and posters of porn and californiana. They passed another old gal with short white hair and a more formal suit jacket and skirt. Julia exchanged meaningful glances with her and Bobbi nodded.
But something was itching at her. Julia had stirred a sense of déjà vu in Bobbi, which had gradually faded as she spent more time in her company. But it pinged her again at the pornographic images in the hall. Something about the style, so abstract and vague she had no hope of placing it, told her she had seen this before. And the white-haired woman clinched it. Who was she? And again, after that moment, who was Julia?
The floor was hard concrete beneath thin green office carpet. Together with the cheapness of the wood paneling in the halls it evoked the idea this was just another industrial space like the docks, but with an extremely superficial veneer of anything else. They came to a door with a textured and frosted window reading “Aubrey Gordon, CEO” in precisely painted sans-serif letters.
But that room wasn’t the office itself. It was a waiting room, where they took the only seats that weren’t pew-like benches against the wall. Still far from comfortable, the chairs were hard plastic, hanging around a glass-topped oval coffee table strewn with bland photography books and pornographic magazines. The magazines were dogeared and wrinkled.
Bobbi asked, “You used to model here?”
“That’s right. Been in business here a long time. Smart ladies change companies, keep looking for a better deal. It’s alright though; I don’t have to see any of my old pictures on the wall.”
“I can’t really imagine what that feels like, having done that work, knowing you’re out there like that. But I hope you don’t feel bad about how you looked. You’re lovely.”
She cracked up, a cackling laugh. “You’re a sweetheart, Bobby. Don’t ever change.” She picked up one of the magazines and offered it to her. “Wanna see what we do?”
“I don’t want to do anything I wouldn’t do in any other business I might lend to.”
“You’d look at what they do.”
“Yes, but...”
“You wouldn’t look at dirty pics. Afraid that your body will betray you? That you’ll get a visible erection in mixed company?”
Bobbi blushed and laughed. “No, but that might happen if you keep talking dirty like that. Take it down a notch, ma’am.”
Julia said, “Suit yourself,” and perused the magazine herself.
Bobbi checked her phone suddenly, panic rising at the possibility she’d walked into a den of organized crime. No bars. The walls behind those panels were all concrete and corrugated metal. What messages had come in before she lost connection? Nothing. Nobody in the bank thought anything of her leaving with Julia.
And why should they? It was an old business lady leading a dorky Robert out into an old business situation, surely. Bobbi didn’t know why she was, on some level, wishing people in the office knew where she was, had some concern for her safety as well. It wasn’t something that ever would have happened in the first place, and would put her job at risk if it was.
She wanted to just run her eyes over the whole scene, look for clues, for something to think about, but her eyes gravitated to Julia and stayed there. As much as Bobbi kept the pictures of lady idols in their youth, her sense of beauty had aged with her. Ladies in pictures could be icons of immortal beauty, but of the women she met in real life, she was only really attracted to those closer to her own age. Women in their twenties and thirties looked almost like children to her.
Julia’s forearms were exposed by the flex in her elbows, drawing cuffs back from wrists, and showing how her skin there had every kind of discoloration of age. Dark little moles, tiny red dots, freckles, more mysterious splotches, in all shades between pallor and the tan of the rest of her skin. But it didn’t matter. Bobbi’s own arms, while younger, were still textured with the progress of life. The lady before her was glamorous in a way she hadn’t seen in a long time - at least, that she’d taken notice of, because it was in someone closer to her own age. She could imagine touching her, running fingers up the trimmed fuzz on her neck into the thick dark grey curls on her head, nuzzling the silver curls at the front, working her lips from cheekbone down to meet Julia’s expressive little mouth.
Bobbi didn’t want to be making herself any more vulnerable in a situation where she’d already foolishly thrown herself to wolves, but her imagination was getting away from her. She unfocused her eyes, so it would, hopefully, look like she was looking at nothing in particular, but in her head she was touching Julia’s sides, moving her hands up toward those impressive breasts.
Then it clicked. Julia Folly. July 1982. Bobbi was in the presence of a true idol, somebody who had ruled despotic over her erotic imagination for nearly as long as it had existed. Her skin burned pink from head to toe and her breath escaped, thinned to desperate little gasps.
A guy came into the room—a creepy old imp like Robert Blake in Lost Highway—and said, “We’re done, Ms. Folly.”
“Thank you, Robin...” Her eyes fell on Bobbi. “You OK, Bobby?”
“Yes,” she mouthed, unable to make a sound.
Robin moved on and Julia sorted Bobbi out with a bottle of water and some attention. The attention made things worse at every moment she touched her, but she somehow managed to tamp down the chaotic energy enough to face the man.
Aubrey Gordon’s office was less cold than the rest of the building, perfectly regulated and sealed in thicker panels of more expensive wood. His ceiling was strange fuzzy drop tiles, but at least it was clean. His floor was Roman tile, and his furniture luxurious and bulky. Ivory bas-reliefs of pornographically proportioned women were inset on the walls to each side of his desk, and his chair’s dark brown leather back rose high above his shoulders like a royal throne.
The man himself had a physical energy not unlike Larry King. He was short but seemed powerful, like if he sucker punched you, you would go the hell down. Dark framed glasses did nothing to hide that he was a savage little animal in human skin.
“What do you have for me, Julia?”
“Bobby Schultz, Harvest Bounty Bank. About the video loan.”
“Have a seat, Bobby.” He gestured with a powerful liver-spotted hand, a few thick gold rings there knocking the surface of his desk. It wasn’t an invitation, but a demand.
Bobbi sat down. “Hello, Mr. Gordon. I’m just taking a look at the operation here as part of my considerations. Ms. Folly’s idea, as was this meeting.” She held out a hand to shake his, while not wanting to touch him in any way.
Gordon took the hand in a manly way, practically splitting her larger hand in two with his grip, then dropped her on the wood like a dead fish. “Please to meet you,” he said, sounding not at all pleased. “I hope you realize it’s an easy fucking call to make. Money’s money. Don’t yank our dicks, alright?”
“Yes sir,” she squeaked. It was a bad situation. There wasn’t a way she could say no, without finding out how mobbish Gordon was. He didn’t even have to hint at a threat. And what was that Robin character to him? “Robin let us in, tonight.”
“Yeah? That’s my executive assistant. He’d usually be the guy you were talking with, but what can I say? I want to get this shit done. You going to help us get this shit done? Make your bank some easy dough?” He leaned forward, a fist on his chin, surprisingly green eyes penetrating Bobbi’s soul.
“I, uh, I, ah...”
Julia leaned over and touched Bobbi’s cheek, gently pulling her gaze up to her own. Her face nearly brushed against breasts along the way. Julia said, “It really is an easy decision. You sign off, you never even have to look at us again. Just reap the rewards and call it a day, yes?” She stood and left Bobbi physically alone in that terrible psychic space.
“We’ll see what we can do, Mr. Gordon.”
He pursed his lips angrily, turning them buttermilk white. “Sounds a little like a dick yank, son, but alright. See what you can fucking do.” He flicked a wrist and Julia quickly scooped up Bobbi, leading her out of the room.
“Sorry,” she said in the lobby, “Seems he’s in a worse mood than usual.”
“I have to get the hell out of here,” Bobbi said quietly, weakly.
“Bobby, it’s OK. I can show you out.” She was already leading her back into the hall, supporting her with a strong arm. The big breast against Bobbi’s side did nothing to quell her overpowering sense of alarm.
“Yes. Let’s go.”
They were out in the hall again, walking briskly. Bobbi was in a terrified stagger, Julia taking slower and even steps, trying to slow Bobbi down as well. “You need to relax, like I said before, Bobby. I can show you some nice people, get you a drink? Not like you have to drive yourself home.”
“I can’t.”
Instead of leading her out the way they came, Julia pulled her into a room near the bend in the hall. It was a changing room with big brightly lit mirrors, a few young naked ladies down the way barely glancing up at them.
“Don’t,” Bobbi squeaked, but Julia kept dragging her into a separate area from the makeup room, more like the green room in a high school drama department, save for the glass tanks of snakes and rabbits. Julia shoved her down into a very soft couch, then pulled up a stool to face her directly.
“Bobby, calm down. Please. I get it. You didn’t want to deal with our world in the first place. I can get you off Aubrey’s radar, OK? I just don’t want you to walk away thinking less of me. I didn’t know it would go like that. I could have guessed, but maybe I wasn’t thinking straight. Just get with me. Look at me, kid.”
Bobbi looked up at Julia with teary eyes. “I’m sorry. I feel like a baby.”
She smiled. “Are you better, Bobby? We can go now. I’ll take you home.”
“Thank you, Julia.”
She took her out through the big cold studio, into the stifling sun of dusk, and back to the wild ride.
-
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EL MATRIMONIO MAS ESCANDALOSO
El título es irónico hoy en día, pues esta historia ya tiene más de un siglo, cuando los códigos sociales de convivencia eran otros y además muy estrictos. Sucedió en la antigua y opulenta ciudad de Buenos Aires, los protagonistas eran libres, talentosos, románticos y muy conocidos, una historia muy particular de cómo cada uno decidió su vida.
Él, Máximo Marcelo Torcuato de Alvear Pacheco (Buenos Aires, 1868 – Don Torcuato, 1942), aristócrata, mujeriego, millonario, el soltero más preciado de la alta sociedad y futuro presidente de la República Argentina por el partido Radical.
Ella, Regina Pacini Quintero (Lisboa, 1871 – Buenos Aires, 1965), portuguesa, diva, una de las cantantes líricas más celebradas de su época.
Luego de perseguirla durante ocho años por todos los teatros de Europa, Alvear recibe el sí y se casan, en soledad, en 1907 en Lisboa luego de ella haber abandonado su carrera artística para siempre.
El escándalo en la alta sociedad argentina fue mayúsculo, se suponía que si a Torcuato le gustaba Regina debía tomarla como amante, pero jamás como esposa.
Poco antes de su casamiento, la mayoría de las personas de su clase social había firmado un telegrama en el se le aconsejaba que no cometiera semejante locura. Todo fue inútil.
Imaginen Uds., Alvear era codiciado por tres bellas y multimillonarias herederas de las familias Peña, Anchorena y Álzaga y que de repente venga una extranjera no muy alta, no muy bella y encima artista y les robara el niño de oro… fue demasiado.
Pero este hombre tanto la amaba que, en una ocasión, teniendo que actuar Regina en el teatro Nacional de San Carlos en Lisboa, su propia ciudad, Marcelo le preparó una sorpresa.
Al salir a escena Regina notó un silencio total y al levantarse el telón vio la sala completamente vacía, su desconcierto fue tremendo, en ese momento aparece Marcelo en el palco principal volcando un canasto lleno de entradas a la vez que le decía su famosa frase: “Hoy cantas sólo para mí”. En secreto, con la complicidad del personal del teatro, había comprado la taquilla entera.
El regalo de bodas del novio fue una casa de campo al costado de la ruta en Yvelines, a 10 km de Paris. Tras una prolongada luna de miel por Europa regresan a Buenos Aires, ya establecidos, las “señoras bien” jamás invitaban a Regina a sus residencias y en las reuniones sociales evitaban hablar o cruzar un gesto con ella. Regina todo lo soportó.
Por su parte la familia de Regina, especialmente su madre regente de la carrera de su hija y principal beneficiaria, odiaba a Marcelo Torcuato ya que, según ella, le había hecho abandonar su brillante carrera lírica. En realidad, el ritmo frenético que significaban los ensayos y los viajes, contribuyeron a desgastar a la diva, ella era delicada, retraída y necesitaba paz. A Regina también le habían llovido propuestas matrimoniales de magnates alrededor del mundo que ella rechazó, pero esta vez, con Marcelo, fue diferente.
Alvear era un niño malcriado, cuando sereno era todo un caballero, culto y hábil parlanchín, pero cuando algo no le gustaba o lo contradecían, por más insignificante que fuere el motivo, se tornaba agresivo y era muy mal hablado.
Y de todo esto, lo que más furioso lo ponía era que menospreciaran a su esposa. En cierta ocasión, en una reunión de gala, Marcelo notó que un grupo de damas distinguidas le estaba haciendo el vacío a Regina quien se hallaba sentada en un rincón sola, entonces se puso de pie como una tromba y dijo en voz alta, para que lo oyera el resto: “Vení, Regina, que a éstas yo ya les levanté las polleras”. Esta frase en ese nivel y en esa época era de una furia desbordada.
Entre muchas excentricidades que cometió Alvear, sin duda, la mayor fue afiliarse al partido Radical, enemigo absoluto del partido Conservador al que debía pertenecer por su posición social.
Vivieron juntos durante 35 años y no tuvieron hijos. En marzo de 1942, Marcelo, muere víctima de un ataque al corazón en Villa Elvira en Don Torcuato. Regina siempre estuvo a su lado, lo había amado desde aquella noche en que le había llenado el camarín del teatro Politeama de Buenos Aires con rosas rojas y blancas.
Durante el velatorio de su esposo, la troupe distinguida que la había tratado con indiferencia se acercó a saludarla, al recibir las condolencias Regina no contestaba, sólo los miraba fijo hasta que bajaban la vista y se retiraban. En público siempre dio clase de sobriedad y distinción.
Regina sobrevivió a su marido 23 años y siempre estuvo a su lado, no era raro verla sentada meditando largos ratos, en uno de los bancos de la bóveda de la familia, en el cementerio de Recoleta, luego de haber depositado flores frescas.
Ella fallece en 1965, dejando su mayor legado: La Casa del Teatro. Monumental edificio, donde viven sus últimos años actores ya retirados faltos de recursos, fue construido con su propia fortuna, en la que invirtió parte de sus posesiones y toda su colección de joyas. Todo el aprecio que le negó la alta sociedad argentina lo compensó con el cariño que le tuvo el pueblo argentino y ella jamás renegó de sus colegas artistas.
Inolvidable Primera Dama Argentina.
Fuente de las fotos: AGN – Internet
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Oltre diecimila le domande a piattaforma Siisl
“Sono già oltre diecimila, in base al dato delle 9 di stamattina, le domande presentate alla Siisl, la nuova piattaforma per l’inclusione sociale e lavorativa”. Lo ha detto il ministro del Lavoro, Marina Elvira Calderone, a Villa San Giovanni a margine del convegno dell’ECR Party Culture Weekend. “Questo vuol dire – ha aggiunto – che la procedura sta funzionando. Per noi è un obiettivo…
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Crean nuevas plazas barriales que favorecerán el drenaje de las lluvias y funcionarán como espacios de disfrute
#LaPlata | Crean nuevas #plazasbarriales que favorecerán el drenaje de las lluvias y funcionarán como espacios de disfrute
Con el objetivo de continuar revalorizando el espacio público, la Municipalidad de La Plata informó que lleva inauguradas 15 plazas en este 2022, resultado de un plan que se implementó para transformar sectores baldíos en espacios verdes.Las nuevas plazas no solo están pensadas para el disfrute y la seguridad de los vecinos, sino que también favorecen la absorción de aguas de lluvia. En primer…
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#aguas de lluvia#Altos de San Lorenzo#Arana#Casco Urbano#City Bell#espacios públicos#Espacios Verdes#José Etchart#La Plata#Lisandro Olmos#Parque Lineal Tolosa#Parque Sicardi#plaza de las Mil Casas#plaza del Jardín Nº 5#plazas#Ringuelet#Villa Castells#Villa Elisa#Villa Elvira#Villa Garibaldi
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30 lug 2023 15:50
CHE DISDETTA! I RICCONI CHE HANNO VILLA SUL LAGO DI COMO SONO "OSTAGGIO" DEI TURISTI "CAFONI" – IL BOOM DI VIAGGIATORI “MORDI E FUGGI”, NELLA ZONA DEL LUNGOLAGO, HA MANDATO IN TILT I SISTEMI DI TRASPORTO DEI COMUNI: “SI STIMA CHE QUEST’ANNO TRASPORTERANNO TRA I 4 E I 5 MILIONI DI PERSONE: LA BASSA STAGIONE NON ESISTE PIÙ. TAXI-BOAT E AUTO NCC HANNO LICENZE FERME DA TRENT’ANNI. NON SI PUÒ PENSARE DI ACCOGLIERE I TURISTI IN QUESTE CONDIZIONI..." - E ALLORA ADEGUATEVI, SENZA ROMPE' ER CAZZO VISTO CHE IL TURISMO PORTA AFFARI A COMMERCIANTI, RISTORATORI, TASSISTI E ALTRI DISGRAZIATI POCO VIP E POCO CHIC... -
Estratto dell’articolo di Elvira Serra per il “Corriere della Sera”
Dietro la cancellata monumentale di Villa Oleandra è in sosta un furgoncino. «Toelettatura professionale a domicilio», è scritto sulla fiancata. «È per Rosy, la cagnolina di George», ammette uno dei custodi, confermando che ci sono anche i padroni di casa con i gemelli, ma no, quest’anno J.Lo e Ben non si sono visti. Dall’altra parte dell’umile casa, fronte lago, in pochi minuti si sono già avvicinati e allontanati quattro motoscafi, con manciate di turisti appese al braccio del taxista a caccia di celebrità.
E non poteva che partire da qui una giornata sull’altro ramo del lago di Como. […] Sulla brochure del «Lake by Boat», a Bellagio, 220 euro tre ore di noleggio motoscafo senza patente, sono indicate con tanto di foto le attrazioni principali con la parte più glam della storia. […]«All’inizio cercavo di orientare i miei clienti con dei cenni storici. Poi mi sono arresa quando un gruppo di americani è salito con una guida fino al Santuario della Vergine del Soccorso di Ossuccio, aspettandosi di trovare la villa di Madonna», è l’esperienza di Roberta Bernasconi, titolare della «Casa Brenna Tosatto» a Campo di Lenno.
«Troppi turisti» […] racconta nostalgico Giorgio Gandola, già direttore dell’Eco di Bergamo e della Provincia di Como , che ha casa proprio dietro questo «Bar Roma» dove ci incontriamo per un caffè. I camerieri sono assicurati contro l’investimento ( sic !) e indossano la t-shirt con scritto «I’m not your therapist», giusto per mettere le cose in chiaro con l’orda di turisti che da dopo il Covid si è scagliata per tutto il lungolago […]
Il numero dei turisti di per sé non sarebbe un problema, se ci fosse un sistema di trasporti adeguato. «E il pendolarismo “mordi e fuggi” non aiuta», argomenta Luca Leoni, presidente di Federalberghi Como e proprietario dell’«Hotel Du Lac», proprio di fronte all’imbarcadero di Bellagio. Sia messo agli atti: lanzichenecchi non pervenuti. «Però mi è capitato di sentirmi chiedere se ci eravamo ispirati al Bellagio di Las Vegas! Mentre pochi giorni fa mio figlio ha dovuto questionare con una coppia di russi che pretendeva di tenere i piedi su una sedia, impedendo a un’altra persona di sedercisi».
Poche barche (e tanta coda) Per lui il punto è un altro: «Quei crocieristi che da Genova si fanno sette ore di pullman in giornata per visitare Bellagio portandosi dietro il cestino del pranzo, non lasciano niente al paese». Mentre sui trasporti ci sarebbe da fare molto di più, come dimostra la coda monstre che guardiamo insieme dalla terrazza del suo hotel: «La Navigazione ministeriale dice di aver messo in acqua tutti i mezzi che poteva.
Quest’anno si stima che trasporteranno tra i 4 e i 5 milioni di persone, l’anno scorso erano stati quattro, prima del Covid 3,2. I pullman fino al 9 giugno hanno tenuto l’orario scolastico, ma la bassa stagione non esiste più e a settembre ci aspettiamo che prolunghino almeno di altri due mesi l’orario estivo. Taxi-boat e auto Ncc hanno licenze ferme da trent’anni. Non si può pensare di accogliere i turisti in queste condizioni».
Tant’è che ci sono alcuni ristoranti, come la «Faguriga», vicino a Villa Carlotta, che su richiesta riaccompagnano i clienti dopo cena, altrimenti non saprebbero come tornare.
[…]. Da Villa del Balbianello, tra i fiori all’occhiello del Fai, dall’inizio dell’anno sono passati centomila visitatori. […] La sua direttrice, Maria Angela Previtera, […]. «Una volta siamo stati contattati per il pernottamento! Il visitatore più originale è stato quello che pretendeva di entrare con un pappagallo colorato sulla spalla. Mentre un altro si è portato dietro il volante della sua auto d’epoca. “È l’antifurto più efficace”, aveva chiosato». Oggi sono già entrati mille visitatori, dispersi nel giardino delle meraviglie, tra la valle delle felci, il bambuseto e il bosco dei rododendri arborei. […] da gennaio lo hanno già fatto in più di 150 mila. […]
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Gabriele d’Annunzio, il Vate della poesia italiana
Il re della letteratura italiana del primo Novecento, con una vita che sembra quasi un romanzo…
Gabriele d’Annunzio nacque a Pescara il 12 Marzo 1863 da Francesco D'Annunzio e Luisa de Benedictis, terzogenito di cinque fratelli e fin dalla prima infanzia spiccò tra i coetanei per intelligenza e la precocissima capacità amatoria.
Il padre lo iscrisse al reale collegio Cicognini di Prato, celebre per gli studi severi e rigorosi e li Gabriele fu un allievo irrequieto, ribelle e insofferente alle regole collegiali, ma studioso, brillante, intelligente e deciso a primeggiare.
Nel 1879 scrisse una lettera a Giosuè Carducci, nella quale chiese di potergli inviare alcuni suoi versi, nello stesso anno a spese del padre pubblicò l'opera Primo Vere, che fu però sequestrata ai convittori del Cicognini per i suoi accenti sensuali e scandalistici, ma fu recensita favorevolmente dal Chiarini sul Fanfulla della domenica.
Al termine degli studi liceali conseguì la licenza d'onore; ma fino al 9 luglio non tornò a Pescara e si recò a Firenze, da Giselda Zucconi, detta Lalla, il suo primo amore, che gli ispirò i componimenti di Canto Novo.
Nel novembre 1881 D'Annunzio si trasferì a Roma per frequentare la facoltà di lettere e filosofia, ma si immerse con entusiasmo negli ambienti letterari e giornalistici della capitale, trascurando lo studio universitario, collaborò al Capitan Fracassa e alla Cronaca Bizantina di Angelo Sommaruga e pubblicò nel maggio 1882 Canto Novo e Terra Vergine.
Inoltre si sposò con la duchessina Maria Altemps Hordouin di Gallese, figlia dei proprietari di palazzo Altemps, di cui D'Annunzio frequentava assiduamente i salotti, anche se fu osteggiato dai genitori di lei.
Mentre lo scrittore era perseguitato dai creditori, a causa del suo stile di vita eccessivamente dispendioso, nacque il primogenito Mario, oltre a continuare la collaborazione con il Fanfulla, occupandosi di costume e aneddoti sulla società dei salotti.
Nell'aprile 1886 nacque il secondo figlio, ma D'Annunzio riacquistò l'entusiasmo artistico e creativo solo quando incontrò ad un concerto Barbara Leoni, ossia Elvira Natalia Fraternali.
La relazione con la Leoni creò non poche difficoltà a D'Annunzio che, desideroso di dedicarsi a un romanzo, si ritirò in un convento a Francavilla dove scrisse in sei mesi Il Piacere.
Nel 1893 Gabriele dovette affrontare un processo per adulterio, che non fa altro che far nascere nuove avversità nei confronti del poeta negli ambienti aristocratici.
I problemi economici spinsero D'Annunzio ad affrontare una situazione difficile, dove , oltre ai debiti da lui contratti, si sommarono quelli del padre, deceduto il 5 giugno 1893.
Il 1894 cominciò nella solitudine del convento, dove D'Annunzio elaborò Trionfo della morte e in settembre, a Venezia, conobbe Eleonora Duse, già avvicinata a Roma in veste di cronista della Tribuna.
In autunno si stabilì nel villino Mammarella, a Francavilla, dove avviò la stesura del romanzo Le vergini delle rocce, apparso a puntate sul Convito e poi in volume presso Treves nel 1896.
Nell'estate 1901 scrisse il dramma Francesca da Rimini, anche se questi furono anni contrassegnati dall'intensa produzione delle liriche di Alcyone, e del ciclo delle Laudi, poi si trasferì a villa Borghese dove elaborò la Figlia di Iorio, , rappresentato al Lirico di Milano, che ebbe un enorme successo grazie all’interpretazione di Irma Gramatica.
Con il legame tra la Duse e D'Annunzio ormai alla fine, il poeta ospitò alla Capponcina, la sua residenza estiva in Toscana, Alessandra di Rudinì, vedova Carlotti, con cui visse una vita lussuosa e mondana.
Nel maggio 1905 Alessandra si ammalò gravemente, travolta dal vizio della morfina e D'Annunzio la assistè affettuosamente ma, dopo la sua guarigione, la abbandonò, per la contessa Giuseppina Mancini.
Le difficoltà economiche spinsero D'Annunzio ad abbandonare l'Italia e a recarsi nel marzo 1910 in Francia, con un nuovo amore, la giovane russa Natalia Victor de Goloubeff.
La permanenza lo vide diventare amico della pittrice Romaine Brooks, Isadora Duncan e la danzatrice Ida Rubinstein, a cui dedicò il dramma Le martyre de Saint Sébastien, musicato in seguito da Claude Debussy.
Nel 1912 compose la tragedia in versi Parisina, musicata da Pietro Mascagni e, dopo aver collaborato alla realizzazione del film Cabiria di Giovanni Pastrone, scrisse la sua prima sceneggiatura cinematografica, La crociata degli innocenti.
Il soggiorno francese terminò all'inizio della guerra, considerata da D'Annunzio l'occasione atta ad esprimere con l'azione gli ideali che aveva affidato produzione letteraria.
Inviato dal governo italiano a inaugurare il monumento dei Mille a Quarto, D'Annunzio, il 14 maggio 1915 rientrò in Italia, si arruolò come tenente dei Lancieri di Novara e partecipò a numerose imprese militari.
Nel 1916 un incidente aereo gli causò la perdita dell'occhio destro e, assistito dalla figlia Renata, nella casetta rossa di Venezia, D'Annunzio visse tre mesi nella immobilità e al buio, componendo la prosa memoriale e frammentaria del Notturno.
Tornato all'azione si distinse nella Beffa di Buccari e nel volo su Vienna con il lancio di manifestini tricolori, ma considerò l'esito della guerra “Una vittoria mutilata”.
A favore dell'annessione dell'Istria e della Dalmazia, il poeta decise di passare all'azione, con i suoi uomini si diresse verso su Fiume e la occupò il 12 settembre 1919, per poi essere costretto dal governo italiano ad andarsene poco tempo dopo.
Dopo l’avventura di Fiume D'Annunzio elesse come sua dimora la villa Cargnacco sul lago di Garda, oggi nota come il Vittoriale degli Italiani.
Nel 1924, dopo l'annessione di Fiume, il re, consigliato da Mussolini, nominò il poeta Principe di Montenevoso,
Al Vittoriale Gabriele ospitò la pianista Luisa Bàccara, Elena Sangro che gli rimase accanto dal 1924 al 1933, oltre alla pittrice polacca Tamara De Lempicka.
L’opera più autentica dell'ultimo D'Annunzio è il Libro segreto, a cui affidò riflessioni e ricordi nati da un ripiegamento interiore ed espressi in una prosa frammentaria poco prima della scomparsa, avvenuta nel suo Vittoriale nella notte dell'1 marzo 1938.
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Premi Ubu 2022, l'elenco dei vincitori
Premi Ubu 2022, l'elenco dei vincitori.
La quarantaquattresima cerimonia di assegnazione dei Premi Ubu 2022, gli Oscar del teatro italiano
come amava definirli Franco Quadri (1936-2011), il critico ed editore che li ha ideati nel 1978, è stata ospitata lunedì 12 dicembre al Teatro Arena del Sole di Bologna. Una festa condivisa dall’Associazione Ubu per Franco Quadri con Rai Radio3 ed Emilia Romagna Teatro ERT / Teatro Nazionale e che ha accolto la comunità di artisti, critici, operatori e spettatori che li segue da oltre quarant’anni.
La serata è stata condotta dalla curatrice (con Antonio Audino) del Teatro di Radio3 Laura Palmieri e dallo
scrittore, giornalista e conduttore di Fahrenheit e Pantagruel Graziano Graziani con gli interventi musicali di
Ivan Talarico, l’incursione scenica dell’attrice Matilde Vigna e la partecipazione speciale di Alessandro Bergonzoni.
La premiazione è stata seguita anche in diretta radiofonica su Rai Radio3, in una consuetudine di rapporto di media partnership iniziata nel 2016. Le 17 categorie dei premi Ubu sono state attribuite dalla votazione di quasi 80 tra critici e studiosi teatrali.
Doppia festa per ERT, che ha ricevuto due riconoscimenti: il premio al Miglior Disegno Luci è andato a Nicolas Bovey per La signorina Giulia (con la regia di Leonardo Lidi, una produzione Teatro Stabile dell’Umbria) e I due gemelli veneziani (con la regia di Valter Malosti, coprodotto da ERT), che ha da poco concluso la sua tournée, toccando le principali piazze italiane da Milano a Bari.
Catarina e a beleza de matar fascistas di Tiago Rodrigues è stato riconosciuto come Miglior Spettacolo
Straniero Presentato in Italia: una produzione Emilia Romagna Teatro ERT / Teatro Nazionale in sinergia
con prestigiose realtà internazionali tra cui Wiener Festwochen, , ThéâtredelaCité – CDN Toulouse
Occitanie & Théâtre Garonne Scène européenne Toulouse, Festival d’Automne à Paris & Théâtre des Bouffes du Nord, Teatro di Roma – Teatro Nazionale, Comédie de Caen, Théâtre de Liège, Maison de la Culture d’Amiens, BIT Teatergarasjen, Le Trident – Scène-nationale de Cherbourg-en-Cotentin, Teatre Lliure, Centro Cultural Vila Flor, O Espaço do Tempo.
Tiago Rodrigues, regista portoghese che opera in Francia e attualmente dirige il Festival di Avignone, è intervenuto con un video di saluto in cui dichiara: "Felice di un premio così prestigioso, intitolato a Franco Quadri che non ho avuto la fortuna di conoscere ma, per la cui figura nutro una grande ammirazione e di cui ho potuto apprezzare l’eredità avendo diretto l’Écoles des Maîtres nel 2018. Questo premio mi onora profondamente per il coraggio e la scelta fatta in Italia, soprattutto in questo preciso momento storico e politico".
Lo spettacolo è andato in scena il 28 e 29 aprile 2022 al Teatro Storchi di Modena.
PREMI UBU 2022
1. SPETTACOLO DI TEATRO
L’Angelo della Storia di Sotterraneo
(ideazione e regia di Sara Bonaventura, Claudio Cirri, Daniele Villa)
2. SPETTACOLO DI DANZA
Inferno
(regia, coreografia, progetto video di Roberto Castello)
3. CURATELA/ORGANIZZAZIONE
Maurizio Sguotti / Kronoteatro (Terreni Creativi Festival)
4. REGIA
Licia Lanera (Con la carabina)
5. ATTRICE/PERFORMER
Sonia Bergamasco (Chi ha paura di Virginia Woolf?)
6. ATTORE/PERFORMER
Marco Cavalcoli (Ashes, Ottantanove)
7. ATTRICE/PERFORMER UNDER 35
Stefania Tansini
8. ATTORE/PERFORMER UNDER 35 ex aequo
Alessandro Bay Rossi
Ludovico Fededegni
9. SCENOGRAFIA
Paola Villani (Carne blu)
10. COSTUMI
Gianluca Sbicca (M. Il figlio del secolo)
11. DISEGNO LUCI
Nicolas Bovey (La signorina Giulia, I due gemelli veneziani)
12. PROGETTO SONORO/MUSICHE ORIGINALI
Muta Imago (Ashes)
13. NUOVO TESTO ITALIANO/SCRITTURA DRAMMATURGICA (messi in scena da compagnie o artisti
italiani) ex aequo
Dei figli (Mario Perrotta)
Ottantanove (Elvira Frosini e Daniele Timpano)
14 NUOVO TESTO STRANIERO/SCRITTURA DRAMMATURGICA (messi in scena da compagnie o artisti
italiani)
Con la carabina (Pauline Peyrade)
15. SPETTACOLO STRANIERO PRESENTATO IN ITALIA
Catarina e a beleza de matar fascistas (Tiago Rodrigues)
16. PREMIO UBU ALLA CARRIERA
Umberto Orsini
17. PREMI SPECIALI
Fabrizio Arcuri:
per il ruolo seminale di una progettualità artistica e organizzativa che nel corso di trent'anni ha saputo creare percorsi collettivi e di incontro tra gli artisti della scena contemporanea, tra festival, rassegne, spettacoli e oggetti fuori formato. Dalla nascita di Area06 e Short Theatre a Roma, passando per Prospettiva a Torino, il Teatro della Tosse a Genova e la più recente esperienza al CSS di Udine, Arcuri ha plasmato luoghi di aggregazione ispirati a una visione plurale. Parallelamente, la compagnia degli Artefatti è stata a sua volta luogo di incontri artistici fecondi che hanno poi saputo diramarsi anche al di fuori di essa.
Malagola:
diretta e fondata da Ermanna Montanari ed Enrico Pitozzi, è una scuola di vocalità dall'anima artistica e scientifica. Nata da poco più di un anno, a Ravenna, è una bottega d'arte riconosciuta come corso di alta formazione, aperta alla cittadinanza in diverse articolazioni pubbliche. Molteplici esperienze artistiche sono confluite così in luogo fisico, un palazzo storico di pregio, restituito alla città in sinergia con le istituzioni locali: il manifestarsi "politico" del procedere congiunto di trasmissione e ricerca.
Massimo Marino:
da allievo ha fatto parte del Teatro Vagante di Giuliano Scabia, partecipando al Gorilla Quadrumàno. Da insegnante e critico ha continuato a divulgarne azioni e peregrinazioni. Dopo la recente scomparsa del maestro, Marino si è dedicato a conservarne la memoria, organizzando diverse mostre e dando alle stampe una fondamentale monografia, Il poeta d’oro. Il gran teatro immaginario di Giuliano Scabia (La Casa Usher 2022), scritta con il puntiglio analitico degli scienziati e percorsa dalla passione "baùca" degli
innamorati....
#notizie #news #breakingnews #cronaca #politica #eventi #sport #moda
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Mañana nos vemos en @tranzafestival, amigxs, en @clubdeartesyocios (7 #2260 esquina 78, Villa Elvira) de 16 a 21 hs. . #barbadeabejas #edicionartesanal #tranzafestival #publicaresamplificar #printordie #diy https://www.instagram.com/p/Ck1BDReObOX/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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Vandalizaron un local partidario del Frente Amplio Peronista en La Plata
Vandalizaron un local partidario del Frente Amplio Peronista en La Plata
El ataque fue reportado en las últimas horas y se trata del segundo que sufre el local ubicado en calle 7 y 82 del barrio platense de Villa Elvira.
Foto: TW @FAPLaPlata
Un local del Frente Amplio Peronista (FAP) en La Plata fue vandalizado con pintadas, por lo cual las autoridades del partido repudiaron este tipo de “acciones violentas que sólo promueven odio” y solicitaron un “rápido…
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