doctor who is about music . well it’s been running for sixty years so it can’t really be about anything, there is no constant now but change, so if it’s about anything then it’s about change, time and memory. which makes it about music. i sound crazy but what i really mean is if i was more eloquent then i could um. i could articulate this. the doctor’s primary tool works its magic by manipulating sound, like a conductor’s baton? i have made a post about the theme of music in doctor who before and i’m going to reblog it above so i don’t need to reiterate myself. anyway

point is, russell could prove to be a sheer showrunning genius if he succeeds at his attempt to finally bring this theme to the forefront through inventing a music-themed campy villain to act as one of new-new-who series 1’s big bads. the way that this string of ideas began back in the 60th specials, with the TARDIS mysteriously playing wild blue yonder followed by the toymaker plagiarising the master’s trademark act by throwing a song and dance number of his own… i am so so excited for what the future holds now that the doctor dances, seeminly unencumbered by guilt this time. hang in there ruby . ruby’s a musician of all things too, on the keys like missy once was. much to think about. the giggle’s an arpeggio

this song is figuratively about the doctor

and controversially this one is too! i am a sucker for doctor who space jesus allegories because i (personally) view jesus as a mythical literary protagonist first and foremost rather than a religious figure. he’s just some guy to me. a kind wanderer who works miracles sometimes. you don’t know my buddy jesus h. christ like i do

mutual 1: sorry the update for my webcomic this week is a bit late! i really had to rush it so it prolly looks really sloppy lol [some of the most sophisticated comic art ive ever seen]

mutual 2: call me uterine lining the way astarions cervix got me bleeding profusely

mutual 3: do you think nanowrimo will give me a posthumous pity publishing deal if i mention it in my suicide note

mutual 4: okay fine i finally started revolutionary girl utena

mutual 5: does columbo know the service he did for butch lesbians. for all of us

mutual 6: wish you were here [blurry picture set of conifer woods in early autumn evening, taken as if frantically running down a winding trail]

mutual 4: im pretty hardy i dont need the trigger list but thanks for looking out for me guys

mutual 7: good morning lovelies another day the wizard tried to best me and another day i successfully locked him in the spare bathroom lol hope u like drinking shampoo fucker

mutual 8: here is a zip of every yuri manga scan i have and here is a backup in case i get dcma'd. the himejoshi lifestyle will never die

mutual 9: i wish i could go back in time to the shinzo abe assassination and ask to hold the doohickey

mutual 10: here's my essay on how wanting to be loved is the same as wanting to be eaten. three paragraphs in you'll find out that this is 100% tied to an obscure beauty and the beast manga i've been reading lately and how much i want to fuck the beast

mutual 4: oh thats why there was the trigger list.

mutual 11: YOU CAN'T LOCK ME IN THIS BATHROOM FOREVER

mutual 12: why do i have to defend my thesis to people i dont even respect. im not dickriding you just give me the degree

mutual 13: its just me and this scab ive picked into my scalp against the world

mutual 14: my little dragon got glazed and is ready to go into the kiln! everyone wish him good luck!

mutual 3: nvm i am a beautiful genius. perhaps the most beautiful genius of all

mutual 15: i think we should give david lynch rpgmaker and whatever happens happens

mutual 16: kpeyboaatrds brpokem gpuys

mutual 17: also heres my work in progress glossary of mixtec words! i still have a long way to go but i love being able to preserve my roots even in this small way

mutual 4: i just finished the black rose arc. question: what

mutual 18: i need emet-selch to be my wife

mutual 19: i need glados to be my husband

mutual 20: visited the ocean today!!! <3 beach pics!!! there is a darkness growing within me

mutual 21: the forms for my legal name change came in. pls vote in this poll of what my middle name should be: Dill Pickle (Dickle for short), Optimus Prime, Tumblr User Gorgonicteratologist, Smeve

mutual 22: just finished my 100th book of the year! this weeks read was the uses of enchantment by the psychologist bruno bettelheim,

mutual 23: reeses penis butter cups lol

mutual 4: i need to hunt akio for sport

mutual 24: oouugghhrgh. hot. dog.

mutual 25: your favorite character or fictional other would want you to brush your teeth and wash your face so you're well rested and wake up feeling refreshed! make them proud!

mutual 26: being a delivery driver isnt the worst job ive ever had but i do keep wondering what itd be like to drive off into the wild blue yonder one day and not come back

mutual 27: weird dog? [phone picture of critically endangered stork]

mutual 28: i think the two phone line polls in front of my house are having a lovers tryst. no way to prove it tho

mutual 4: WHAT

mutual 29: while you bitches are balduring your gates or finalling those fantasies im doing what a REAL gamer does. playing a b tier rpg that came out in 2004 for the 18th time

mutual 30: ^ real. hamtaro ham ham heartbreak is a masterpiece of interactive art. im not even going to call it a video game at this point

mutual 4: THAT'S HOW IT ENDS?! ANTHY?

mutual 31: can you help me pick which drawing looks better: 34% overlay or 36% soft light?

mutual 32: new video essay out. its called disability in video game narratives: final fantasy 14's most reliable fault. i churned the script out over an all-nighter and my mic crapped out halfway through but by god i did it

mutual 33: my new zine bundle is out! if you buy it you also get a discount on all my game jam games! i really cant wait for you to play them!

mutual 4: yall should watch revolutionary girl utena

wild blue yonder was AMAZING, so so glad the leaked plot / my insane clara idea didn’t come true because this was fucking transcendent no cameos needed. proves that you don’t need a whole host of cameos and callbacks and reveals to make a stunning and terrifying story that pays homage to the show’s history, I was so happy with it just on a conceptual level

I love how secretive it was, because even though the plot wasn’t huge scale or cinematic I was on the edge of my seat the entire time with zero expectations and no idea what was going to happen next. and it paid off!! absolutely incredible episode, the music was UNREAL I had literal goosebumps, the acting was on point as usual especially from DT oh my LORD, the doctor/donna relationship was written so so well and the monsters and plotline were just. WOW WOW WOW I AM LOSING MY MIND

the cgi was really awful in some parts, like truly horrifically bad but honestly it added to the 2000s / RTD1 vibe so it was fine 🤷‍♂️ a bit jarring because the setting was so beautifully CG’d and then the villains just looked like garbage a lot of the way through but yeah like I said it didn’t take away from the amazing story so I don’t mind

anyway 10/10 no notes this is PEAK doctor who, best episode since heaven sent fight me

'Well gosh, that was nice, wasn’t it?

More than anything, I’m just delighted that Davies bothered. Like, the three specials structure could have been all big ones. This slot could have been a big scary Cybermen one or something, and the Fourteenth Doctor era would still feel complete and varied across the three. By most reckonings that would have even been the better idea. But no, instead he decided that this should actually feel like a season of Doctor Who and have a weird one in the middle. There’s something absolutely decadent about spending a third of your big Tennant-Tate reunion trilogy doing something that feels as though it’s overtly striving to be described as “proper Doctor Who.”

I remember, way back on the Forest of the Dead podcast commentary, which is legitimately one of the best forty-five minutes it is possible to spend on being terminally That Sort of Fan, Davies, Tennant, and Moffat enthusing about the first episode of The Ark in Space and how you could just shoot it with no changes to the script and it would still sparkle. And now here we are, with Davies doing an episode that begs for comparisons to Heaven Sent and Listen in its “a cheap one proving I can still write” ostentation—a weird spooky two-hander on a spaceship.

Well. “Cheap.” Obviously this continues to luxuriate in the stupidity of its budget from the moment they step out into that corridor set, which of course looks fantastic. The CGI body horror is genuinely startling. You suspect it still did come out cheaper than The Star Beast, but it’s still being ostentatious in its quality across the board. There’s ambition and confidence in every shot of this, and like Isaac Newton it’s frankly sexy as fuck.

What shines for me is the character work. The parallel scenes of the Doctor and Donna trying to figure out who the fake is (and note the very sly decision to do a deceptive shot-match so that the fake Donna comes out of a green corridor like the one we just saw Donna in) in which Donna gets it and the Doctor doesn’t, which sets up the subsequent beat of the Doctor IDing the fake Donna based on the fact that she volunteers to insult her own intelligence. Or even just the ways in which the not-things (as the subtitles charmingly call them) work—the grinning sadism with which Tennant delivers “when something is gone it keeps existing” is beautifully chilling. Davies has always been strong when he lets his nihilistic streak shine, and he uses it here—along with two phenomenal leads—to make cosmic horrors feel at once convincing and charismatic.

It feels significant, then, that it’s the not-thing version of Donna that relates so emphatically to the devastation Flux. And I don’t mean that as snark about Chibnall. For all that I deadpanned “yeah man, I felt that way about the Chibnall era too” during the Doctor’s frustrated tantrum, the thing that’s really striking about Davies astonishingly gracious salvage job on the emotional desolation of his predecessor’s tenure is the not-thing’s awed “you have owned it” and the way it sells the horrified tumult of this new version of Tennant, reeling from a trauma to rival the Time War. It works, right down to giving the Doctor a reason to seek the comfort of returning to this face. And it’s a point that’s clearly going to carry through into The Giggle given the precise structure of the cliffhanger, the TARDIS landing just in time to get the Doctor out of talking more about it. You can just about see the precise contours of the line that’s being drawn under all of this. More to the point, the ones that aren’t quite clear yet feel terribly compelling.

Which brings us back to the sense of relief that Davies is actually trying. The thing about the late career Moffat stories this is trying to edge out in the 2033 Doctor Who Magazine poll is that they’re the creative renaissance of a man who’s decided that he has something to prove. And frankly, that remains the only reason any of this would be worthwhile. For all that I’m insistent that Doctor Who should be forward-looking, that’s never only meant new voices, and it’s never precluded skilled veterans. I mean, for heavens’ sake, that kind of thinking would have meant no Caves of Androzani. Fifteen years is more than enough time to become a new person with new ideas on a topic. I’m certainly not the same person I was when I started writing about this show, and that wasn’t even thirteen years ago. Once the hazy bliss of novelty fades away and it’s not enough to just have competence again, what this is going to come down to is whether or not Davies is still hungry for it. And frankly, this isn’t the episode you make if you’re here to fuck around. If Davies is willing to push himself this hard during the big frothy nostalgia tour—the part of his return that’s aimed at a BBC One audience that fondly, if vaguely, remembers Journey’s End (where it’s a smash hit, btw, with overnight ratings on The Star Beast rival the +7s for Power of the Doctor)—then one shudders to imagine what he’s going to do when he’s aiming for a Disney+.

* If you’re not one of my Patreon backers, the bonus podcast on The Star Beast has gone up for them. This one’s got Sean Dillon and Ritesh Babu, and is a good time. We manage to get off topic and into Phineas and Ferb so early on that it might be in the five minute preview. Next time I’ll be joined by Christine and Jack, who should be a grand old time for this one.

* Obviously the “superstition at the edge of the universe” thing is about letting the Toymaker in, which will also surely hinge on the fact that Rose makes toys. And I assume they’re going to pay off the otherwise inscrutable “Wild Blue Yonder” thing. But I honestly can’t tell whether “mavity” is supposed to be setup for something or is just Davies shitposting, nor can I decide which one I hope.

* I can’t say I’m especially persuaded that a non-white Isaac Newton is meaningful or productive representation, but it’s hard not to enjoy the trolling. And I suspect that making “Doctor Who is woke now” old news before Gatwa shows up is a savvy approach.

* Speaking of the promotion of the show, interesting that this is the episode where Davies adopted a sharp no-spoiler policy—something I’m on record as not usually being a fan of. In one sense there wasn’t actually anything to hide, and there’s surely a chunk of jilted fans upset that we didn’t get Matt Smith or whatever. (Which, of course we didn’t—David Tennant is the past Doctor here.) But there wasn’t anything to promote either—none of the headlines are here. Knowing it’s a two-hander with evil doppelgangers wasn’t going to bring anyone new to their television. More to the point, this is an episode about exploration of a mysterious place—one where real effort has been expended on the procedural aspects of the Doctor and Donna figuring it out. It invites the viewer to play along—to see when they notice that something’s wrong with the Doctor that’s just come in to talk to Donna, or that the Doctor’s real plan is to get the TARDIS back. That’s one of the things that actually does benefit from secrecy. The opening sequences would be robbed of something if the entire audience knew that the thing peering at the Doctor and Donna through the grate is a shapeshifter from outside the universe. Which is to say, hats off to Davies for writing something that was actually worth avoiding spoilers for.

* I quite liked the way the episode follows the by now cliche “no sonic screwdriver this time” as a way of flagging “the Doctor and Donna are on their own with nothing but their wits” with taking the TARDIS translation away too.

* Hats off to Chrissie at chakoteya.net—a resource I have used countless times for countless things—who is going to have an absolute time of it getting the transcript of this together tonight.

* Delightful to see that, however poorly he may have been faring, Cribbins was still clearly sharp and able to play his character to a tee. It sounds like this is all we get of him, alas, but it’s a solid use of him—a comforting delight that goes eerily wrong, nicely setting up next week. * Which… so, we’re the Toymaker. I note that we’ve dropped “Celestial” from his name in all the promotion, along with the Mandarin trappings. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious what Davies is doing with him. And, for that matter, if I said “evil clown played by Neil Patrick Harris” wasn’t a compelling option. But more on that next week.

* We all knew Davies was adapting “The Star Beast,” but who saw “Tlotney Throws a Shape” coming?

Rankings

1. Wild Blue Yonder

2. The Star Beast'

Happy New Year! 2023

Once again it’s New Years Eve and my yearly tradition of wrapping up the year by reviewing things that have come out but I haven’t had time to write about. Here we go!

Doctor WHO: Wild Blue Yonder and the Giggle

Wild Blue Yonder was just the perfect amount of creepy, mysterious and suspenseful with pure nightmare fuel. And Neil Patrick Harris was perfection as the Doctor’s old foe the Celestial Toymaker. Plus a great regeneration scene to introduce Ncuti Gatwa’s Doctor without having to say goodbye to David Tennant’s 14th.

The Marvels

I liked Captain Marvel and Ms Marvel so I knew I’d like this one. Is it a perfect movie? No. But it is fun. But you do have to watch Ms Marvel and Wandavision to know who everyone or it’s hard to follow along. As my parents found out. They still liked it enough but you have to be a super fan to really enjoy it.

Doctor Who: The Church on Ruby Road

I am so hyped for Ncuti Gatwa’s fifteenth doctor! This was a fun episode and a great introduction to a new companion with a great mystery set up and I can’t wait to see what is next!

Migration

This was cute. Not amazing or super funny but cute. The little duckling Gwen is the best part. That’s it.

The Color Purple (2023 Musical)

It’s well performed and all the musical numbers are great, but if you saw the original you know it’s better. I do like how Sug and Celiy have a stronger friendship and I even like how Celiy forgives Albert in the end here. And the explanation of how she inherits her mother’s house and gets her business is better handled.

Wonka

I loved this. It’s so fun and whimsical with just enough of a dark edge to tie back to the original book and moreover Gene Wilder’s sarcastic chocolate maker in the 71 version. It’s not a direct prequel but it definitely feels like this story could lead to that one. Plus Timothee Charlamet surprised me by how good of a singer he was! And he’s very charming and ties the whole movie together. Plus it’s written by Simon Farnaby of the BBCs Ghosts so it’s got that clever writing in it.

Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom

I don’t know why but I like this movie more than the first one. Maybe because I can feel how much fun Jason Mamoa had making it. Maybe because I’m a sucker for a reformed villain that helps his older brother defeat the ancient evil threatening their family (which is weird that’s it’s happened twice) but I do like the story and the action and that it’s got a happy ending.

What If Season 2

Here we go…the big one…one Episode at a time…

What if Nebula Joined the Nova Corps?

This was a fun neon noir mystery with one of my favorite new characters. And it really proves that one way or another Nebula was meant to become a hero.

What if Peter Quill attacked Earths Mightiest Heroes?

Or what if the Avengers assembled in the 1980’s? Basically Peter Quill is taken to his father Ego as a child. But once Peter realizes what his Dad is making him do, he returns to Earth because he’s still a good kid. He’s still a kid so he uses his new powers to make Coney Island his own playground so Hank Pym Antman, Goliath, Bucky Barnes Winter Solider, the Black Panther (Tchallas Dad) and Wendy Larson Mar Vel and Thor come in to take him in. It’s a fun team up. Especially when you add Peggy Carter and Howard Stark.

What if Happy Hogan Saved Christmas?

I’ve never seen Die Hard, but I’ll be happy to watch this every Christmas! This was fun seeing Happy be the hero for once. With a great return for a villain that we haven’t seen much of.

What if Iron Man crashed into the Grandmaster?

I loved this one! It was great seeing Tony taken out of his comfort zone on Sakarr. The Grandmaster does have that affect on people…lol. It was face paced and clever with jokes and story. Just great.

What if Captain Carter Fought the Hydra Stomper?

This whole episode was a sequel to Captain Carter’s story in season one. Basically it was her version of Captain America:The Winter Soldier but with the Red Room instead of Hydra. Captain Carter is always great and seeing her lose Steve again was sad but then the season plot comes a calling and she gets pulled into it.

What if Kahori Reshaped the World?

This was a great story and it features a new character! Basically Asgard gets destroyed before Odin can hide the Tesseract but it ends up in North America where a Mohawk Indian woman named Kahori winds up getting powers from it. And she’s a great character who I’m sure fulfilled a power fantasy for native Americans and gets to see a superhero like them at last.

What if Hela Found the Ten Rings?

I liked this one too. This basically has Odin banish Hela to Earth instead of locking her away. And while she starts off her usual villain self, we see her change into the hero she could have been. Plus Odin is back to being the worst parent in the MCU since we learn Hela just wanted to rule to gain her freedom since her Dad made her a weapon against her will.

What if the Avengers Assembled in 1602?

Okay I loved this one too. It was fun seeing an Elizabethan version of the Avengers with Captain Carter pulled from her universe to save there’s. And after she meets Steve Rogers, our hearts get broken all over again when they don’t get together again. Basically I really hope they’re building up to having Captain Carter finding a happily ever after with another Steve Rogers that lost his Peggy.

What if Strange Supreme Intervened?

Which brings us to the finale. So this season’s storylines aren’t quite as intertwined as last seasons, but when Strange Supreme showed up in Kahori’s story and then at the end of the 1602 story I knew something was up. And sure enough he tricks Peggy into finding Kahori for him after she escapes him. Turns out he’s been collecting villains and heroes to power a spell to restore his universe. He just couldn’t escape his grief. It’s got a bittersweet ending and Captain Carter has more adventures in store…speaking of which…

Hey Peggy? See that big tree there? There’s a really cute God of Stories in there that needs to be rescued. Just drop him off on Earth 1218 and I’ll take care of him. Thanks Doll.

Happy New Year!

The Green Gables folk went home after Christmas, Marilla under solemn covenant to return for a month in the spring. More snow came before New Year's, and the harbor froze over, but the gulf still was free, beyond the white, imprisoned fields. The last day of the old year was one of those bright, cold, dazzling winter days, which bombard us with their brilliancy, and command our admiration but never our love. The sky was sharp and blue; the snow diamonds sparkled insistently; the stark trees were bare and shameless, with a kind of brazen beauty; the hills shot assaulting lances of crystal. Even the shadows were sharp and stiff and clear-cut, as no proper shadows should be. Everything that was handsome seemed ten times handsomer and less attractive in the glaring splendor; and everything that was ugly seemed ten times uglier, and everything was either handsome or ugly. There was no soft blending, or kind obscurity, or elusive mistiness in that searching glitter. The only things that held their own individuality were the firs--for the fir is the tree of mystery and shadow, and yields never to the encroachments of crude radiance. But finally the day began to realise that she was growing old. Then a certain pensiveness fell over her beauty which dimmed yet intensified it; sharp angles, glittering points, melted away into curves and enticing gleams. The white harbor put on soft grays and pinks; the far-away hills turned amethyst. "The old year is going away beautifully," said Anne. She and Leslie and Gilbert were on their way to the Four Winds Point, having plotted with Captain Jim to watch the New Year in at the light. The sun had set and in the southwestern sky hung Venus, glorious and golden, having drawn as near to her earth-sister as is possible for her. For the first time Anne and Gilbert saw the shadow cast by that brilliant star of evening, that faint, mysterious shadow, never seen save when there is white snow to reveal it, and then only with averted vision, vanishing when you gaze at it directly. "It's like the spirit of a shadow, isn't it?" whispered Anne. "You can see it so plainly haunting your side when you look ahead; but when you turn and look at it--it's gone." "I have heard that you can see the shadow of Venus only once in a lifetime, and that within a year of seeing it your life's most wonderful gift will come to you," said Leslie. But she spoke rather hardly; perhaps she thought that even the shadow of Venus could bring her no gift of life. Anne smiled in the soft twilight; she felt quite sure what the mystic shadow promised her. They found Marshall Elliott at the lighthouse. At first Anne felt inclined to resent the intrusion of this long-haired, long-bearded eccentric into the familiar little circle. But Marshall Elliott soon proved his legitimate claim to membership in the household of Joseph. He was a witty, intelligent, well-read man, rivalling Captain Jim himself in the knack of telling a good story. They were all glad when he agreed to watch the old year out with them. Captain Jim's small nephew Joe had come down to spend New Year's with his great-uncle, and had fallen asleep on the sofa with the First Mate curled up in a huge golden ball at his feet. "Ain't he a dear little man?" said Captain Jim gloatingly. "I do love to watch a little child asleep, Mistress Blythe. It's the most beautiful sight in the world, I reckon. Joe does love to get down here for a night, because I have him sleep with me. At home he has to sleep with the other two boys, and he doesn't like it. "Why can't I sleep with father, Uncle Jim?" says he. `Everybody in the Bible slept with their fathers.' As for the questions he asks, the minister himself couldn't answer them. They fair swamp me. `Uncle Jim, if I wasn't me who'd I be?' and, `Uncle Jim, what would happen if God died?' He fired them two off at me tonight, afore he went to sleep. As for his imagination, it sails away from everything. He makes up the most remarkable yarns--and then his mother shuts him up in the closet for telling stories . And he sits down and makes up another one, and has it ready to relate to her when she lets him out. He had one for me when he come down tonight. `Uncle Jim,' says he, solemn as a tombstone, `I had a 'venture in the Glen today.' `Yes, what was it?' says I, expecting something quite startling, but nowise prepared for what I really got. `I met a wolf in the street,' says he, `a 'normous wolf with a big, red mouf and awful long teeth, Uncle Jim.' `I didn't know there was any wolves up at the Glen,' says I. `Oh, he comed there from far, far away,' says Joe, `and I fought he was going to eat me up, Uncle Jim.' `Were you scared?' says I. `No, 'cause I had a big gun,' says Joe, `and I shot the wolf dead, Uncle Jim,--solid dead--and then he went up to heaven and bit God,' says he. Well, I was fair staggered, Mistress Blythe." The hours bloomed into mirth around the driftwood fire. Captain Jim told tales, and Marshall Elliott sang old Scotch ballads in a fine tenor voice; finally Captain Jim took down his old brown fiddle from the wall and began to play. He had a tolerable knack of fiddling, which all appreciated save the First Mate, who sprang from the sofa as if he had been shot, emitted a shriek of protest, and fled wildly up the stairs. "Can't cultivate an ear for music in that cat nohow," said Captain Jim. "He won't stay long enough to learn to like it. When we got the organ up at the Glen church old Elder Richards bounced up from his seat the minute the organist began to play and scuttled down the aisle and out of the church at the rate of no-man's-business. It reminded me so strong of the First Mate tearing loose as soon as I begin to fiddle that I come nearer to laughing out loud in church than I ever did before or since." There was something so infectious in the rollicking tunes which Captain Jim played that very soon Marshall Elliott's feet began to twitch. He had been a noted dancer in his youth. Presently he started up and held out his hands to Leslie. Instantly she responded. Round and round the firelit room they circled with a rhythmic grace that was wonderful. Leslie danced like one inspired; the wild, sweet abandon of the music seemed to have entered into and possessed her. Anne watched her in fascinated admiration. She had never seen her like this. All the innate richness and color and charm of her nature seemed to have broken loose and overflowed in crimson cheek and glowing eye and grace of motion. Even the aspect of Marshall Elliott, with his long beard and hair, could not spoil the picture. On the contrary, it seemed to enhance it. Marshall Elliott looked like a Viking of elder days, dancing with one of the blue-eyed, golden-haired daughters of the Northland. "The purtiest dancing I ever saw, and I've seen some in my time," declared Captain Jim, when at last the bow fell from his tired hand. Leslie dropped into her chair, laughing, breathless. "I love dancing," she said apart to Anne. "I haven't danced since I was sixteen--but I love it. The music seems to run through my veins like quicksilver and I forget everything--everything--except the delight of keeping time to it. There isn't any floor beneath me, or walls about me, or roof over me--I'm floating amid the stars." Captain Jim hung his fiddle up in its place, beside a large frame enclosing several banknotes. "Is there anybody else of your acquaintance who can afford to hang his walls with banknotes for pictures?" he asked. "There's twenty ten-dollar notes there, not worth the glass over them. They're old Bank of P. E. Island notes. Had them by me when the bank failed, and I had 'em framed and hung up, partly as a reminder not to put your trust in banks, and partly to give me a real luxurious, millionairy feeling. Hullo, Matey, don't be scared. You can come back now. The music and revelry is over for tonight. The old year has just another hour to stay with us. I've seen seventy-six New Years come in over that gulf yonder, Mistress Blythe." "You'll see a hundred," said Marshall Elliott. Captain Jim shook his head. "No; and I don't want to--at least, I think I don't. Death grows friendlier as we grow older. Not that one of us really wants to die though, Marshall. Tennyson spoke truth when he said that. There's old Mrs. Wallace up at the Glen. She's had heaps of trouble all her life, poor soul, and she's lost almost everyone she cared about. She's always saying that she'll be glad when her time comes, and she doesn't want to sojourn any longer in this vale of tears. But when she takes a sick spell there's a fuss! Doctors from town, and a trained nurse, and enough medicine to kill a dog. Life may be a vale of tears, all right, but there are some folks who enjoy weeping, I reckon." They spent the old year's last hour quietly around the fire. A few minutes before twelve Captain Jim rose and opened the door. "We must let the New Year in," he said. Outside was a fine blue night. A sparkling ribbon of moonlight garlanded the gulf. Inside the bar the harbor shone like a pavement of pearl. They stood before the door and waited--Captain Jim with his ripe, full experience, Marshall Elliott in his vigorous but empty middle life, Gilbert and Anne with their precious memories and exquisite hopes, Leslie with her record of starved years and her hopeless future. The clock on the little shelf above the fireplace struck twelve. "Welcome, New Year," said Captain Jim, bowing low as the last stroke died away. "I wish you all the best year of your lives, mates. I reckon that whatever the New Year brings us will be the best the Great Captain has for us--and somehow or other we'll all make port in a good harbor."

Chapter 16, New Year's Eve at the Light, Anne’s House of Dreams

Ma Rainey’s Life and Reign as the Mother of the Blues

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

Netflix’s Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom stars Viola Davis as one of the most influential blues singers of all time. The real Ma Rainey was the first stage entertainer to bridge the gap between the white and the Black performance circuits. “If you don’t like my ocean, don’t fish in my sea,” Rainey warned in her 1927 song, “Don’t Fish in My Sea,” but the crowds couldn’t stay away. She was one of the first entertainers to play integrated shows in the Jim Crow South, and the first popular singer with authentic blues in her setlist.

“Madame” Gertrude Rainey was the “Mother of the Blues,” but the world knows her as Ma. She wasn’t the first woman to sing the blues. She’d actually heard it while playing vaudeville, tent shows, and cabarets. Rainey wasn’t even the first woman to record the blues. She began recordings when she was 38 in 1923, three years after Mamie Smith’s Feb. 14, 1920 recordings of “That Thing Called Love,” “You Can’t Keep a Good Man Down,” and “Crazy Blues” for Okeh Records in New York City.

A Georgia Cakewalk and Some Alabama Fun Makers

Ma was born Gertrude Pridgett on April 26, 1886, in Columbus, Georgia, or September 1882 in Alabama, according to a later census. Her parents were minstrel troupers Thomas Pridgett, Sr. and Ella Allen-Pridgett. She began singing professionally in 1896, after her father died. Her first public performance was in the 1900 stage show, “The Bunch of Blackberries,” at the Springer Opera House in Columbus. Pridgett soon performed on the tent-show circuit with troupes which set up their own stages.

Pridgett first heard country blues in 1902 while she was on the road, according to Sandra Lieb’s Mother of the Blues: A Study of Ma Rainey. At a stop in Missouri, she saw a young woman singer accompany herself on guitar playing a song in a pentatonic scale with blue notes. Pridgett added the song to her repertoire as an encore. The everyday anguish and joy resonated with audiences. Pridgett would continue to add songs she heard in the towns she played. 

In 1904, Pridgett married a singer, comedian and dancer named Will Rainey, and they toured as the duo Ma and Pa Rainey. “Rainey and Rainey, Assassinators of the Blues” played regularly until the pair separated in 1916. Ma went solo, touring with her own tent show, Madam Gertrude Ma Rainey and Her Georgia Smart Set, which included a chorus line of male and female dancers. The traveling troupe spent winters in New Orleans where Ma mingled with the cream of jazz masters.

In 1923, she was signed to Paramount Records by Mayo “Ink” Williams, who was the most successful blues producer of his time, the first Black producer at a major label, and the only person ever inducted into both the National Football Hall of Fame and the Blues Hall of Fame. Pianist Thomas A. Dorsey entered Rainey’s world in 1924. Dorsey, who would later go on to gain fame as a gospel songwriter, was also her manager and musical arranger, much like the trombone player Cutler (Colman Domingo) in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom. He spotted the talent for Rainey’s touring ensemble, the Wild Cats Jazz Band. The musicians played blues, but also performed written sheet music to play contemporary jazz.

During Rainey’s five-year recording career at Paramount, she recorded with a rotating crew of musicians in various musical settings, but who all laid down genuine rural blues songs of heartbreak, betrayal, drinking, superstition, prison road gangs, and hard and easy loving. 

Rainey wrote or co-wrote about a third of the 92 songs she recorded for her label. With her strong voice, unapologetic lyrical sexuality, and onstage abandon, “the Paramount Wildcat” devoured contemporary women blues singers like Ida Cox and Sippie Wallace like appetizers. Ma wore that tag as proudly as the gold she adorned herself with after she became famous and became the “Golden Necklace Woman of the Blues.” Her only competition was known as “The Empress of the Blues,” and it was a very friendly rivalry.

Bessie Smith

Ma was performing with the Moses Stokes’ Traveling Show when she met Bessie Smith, the troupe’s new chorus girl dancer, in 1912. Ma was 26 and Bessie was 18. Chattanooga, Tennessee-born Bessie Smith had spent her childhood performing on street corners. Both her parents and a brother died by the time she was nine years old. Smith went on to be the highest paid African American performer of the “Roaring Twenties.” 

According to the book Bessie, by Chris Albertson, legends persist that Rainey kidnapped Smith, forced her to join the Rabbit Foot Minstrels and taught her to sing the blues. Bessie’s sister-in-law Maud Smith says the legend isn’t true, but it made for great publicity. While there are some accounts that Rainey was Smith’s vocal coach, it appears her suggestions were more about vocal stylings and performance. Both were virtuoso singers with distinct and personal deliveries. Ma’s slow driving moan and Bessie’s vibrant contralto were signatures. They performed together regularly and the two artists remained lifelong friends.

Both singers expressed themselves boldly, their lyrics were masterpieces of double entendre, and their lives were as risqué as the songs. The two Jazz Age divas proudly proclaimed their bisexuality. While neither confirmed rumors that they were lovers, Smith bailed Rainey out of jail when the Chicago police busted in on the singer in the middle of some erotic personal entertainment with some of her female dancers. And Rainey’s bisexuality comes through in her songs.

“It’s one of the things that I really loved about Ma Rainey,” George C. Wolfe, director of the movie version of Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, tells Den of Geek.* “One of the songs that she records… is a song called ‘Prove It on Me [Blues],’ in which she sings these incredibly bold, very unapologetic lyrics such as, ‘I went out last night with a bunch of friends. Must have been women because I don’t like man.’ And that was one of her hit songs in the 1920s. And so she lived her life unapologetically that way.”

And it’s not that she didn’t “want no man to put no sugar in my tea,” as she sang in “Bo Weavil Blues,” but “some of them’s so evil, I’m afraid they might poison me.” On some occasions, however, they came up with something interesting. “My man says sissy’s got good jelly roll,” Rainey confessed on her 1926 song “”Sissy Blues.”

In other songs she admits a fondness for younger men. Colman Domingo, who plays one of Ma’s band members in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, tells us the power of Ma’s life was that she could make these things happen in a country with systems as stacked against her 1920s America.

“I love in the film how she holds her woman with her nephew right there,” Domingo says. “And everyone knows that Ma is gay as well. I love that August is examining that, that she created her world. And in her world, she is the queen, and everything she says goes as well. They know. They know Ma’s proclivities in every single way. And that was also that pioneering spirit. She was fighting so many systems at that time, being a woman, being a gay woman, in a male dominated industry. She’s a true champion.”

In her 1998 book, Blues Legacies and Black Feminism, Angela Davis sees Rainey as a revolutionary who embraces heterosexuality and lesbianism, and observes the women in Rainey’s songs “explicitly celebrate their right to conduct themselves as expansively and even as undesirably as men.” Davis sees Rainey, as well as Smith and Billie Holiday, as inspirational models for how African American women can overcome racism, sexism, and capitalism.

Louis Armstrong

The iconic jazz legend Louis Armstrong was so inspired by Ma Rainey, he stylistically paid homage to her every time he put down his horn to sing. Even his facial expressions were reportedly reminiscent of Rainey’s. “Satchmo” played cornet on Rainey’s songs “Yonder Comes the Blues,” “Jelly Bean Blues,” “Countin’ the Blues,” and “Moonshine Blues.” The 1927 re-recording of that song is featured in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, but the original 1923 version was done with him, May, and Lovie Austin and Her Blue Serenaders.

Armstrong was also part of Gertrude “Ma” Rainey & Her Georgia Band’s rendition of the now-standard piece “Stack O’Lee Blues.” Ma was one of the song’s early interpreters, though her rendition actually carries the melody of the song “Frankie and Johnny.”

Along with Charlie Green on trombone, Buster Bailey on clarinet, Fletcher Henderson on piano, and Charlie Dixon on banjo, Armstrong also played cornet for Ma in mid-October 1924 for the blues classic “See See Rider Blues.” The song has been covered over 100 times. Rainey’s was the first version, and her recording was added to the Library of Congress’ National Recording Registry in 2004. She holds the copyright.

Legacy

The singer, songwriter and astute businesswoman helped make black female autonomy mainstream. The horsehair wigs and the gold teeth she wore on stage empowered her fans. In Black Pearls, author Daphne Harrison said Rainey’s voice was “a reaffirmation of Black life.” Alice Walker cites Ma Rainey’s music as a cultural model for her novel, The Color Purple. In the song “Tombstone Blues” from the 1965 album Highway 61 Revisited, Bob Dylan pairs Ma Rainey with Beethoven. 

Rainey’s songs inspired poets like Sterling Brown, whose 1932 poem “Ma Rainey,” describes one of her concerts from the eyes of her audience. “When Ma Rainey comes to town, folks from anyplace miles aroun’ flocks in to hear Ma do her stuff,” he enthused.

Rainey also inspired the 1982 August Wilson play Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom. In spite of Levee’s protests in that play and its Netflix movie adaptation, she did play Harlem. Ma did shows at The Lincoln Theatre on 135th Street near Lenox Avenue.

Cause of Death

Rainey retired from music in 1935, after the death of her mother and sister. She settled in Columbus and spent her time running the two playhouses she owned: the Airdome and the Lyric Theater. Ma Rainey died from a heart attack on Dec. 22, 1939 in Columbus, Georgia. “People it sure look lonesome since Ma Rainey been gone,” blues guitar legend Memphis Minnie bemoaned on her 1940 tribute “Ma Rainey” before humbly promising the good works of “the Mother of the Blues” would go on.

“Ma” Rainey was inducted into the Blues Hall of Fame in 1983 and into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1990. “To tell the truth, if I stop and listen, I can still hear her,” Langston Hughes wrote in his 1952 poem “Shadow of the Blues.” Madame “Ma” Rainey cast a long one.

Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom premieres on Netflix on Friday, Dec. 18.

*Additional reporting by Don Kaye.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

The post Ma Rainey’s Life and Reign as the Mother of the Blues appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2LRXvS3

2, 9, and 18?

2. A song to sleep to

.stage 4 fear of trying. or She’s The Prettiest Girl at the Party, and She Can Prove It With a Solid Right Hook by Frank Iero- something about his voice makes me feel calm and sleepy on the slower songs

9. A song that makes you want to go on an adventure

Wild Blue Yonder by The Amazing Devil

18. A song that you like that the lyrics are just so beautiful that they’re practically poetry

Any older (and some newer) Fall Out Boy, Twenty One Pilots and a lot of My Chemical Romance and The Amazing devil immediately come to mind- I really like song lyrics. Specifically, I’ll say Hum Hallelujah by Fall Out Boy, Fair by The Amazing Devil, Forest by Twenty One Pilots, Jesus of Suburbia by Green Day, and Disenchanted by My Chemical Romance

Thank you for the ask :)

So I know this isn't really a blog about this kind of thing, but I hope you don't mind me asking. I understand totally if you don't want to answer this. So I am a very shy awkward person you could say. I am going to college soon and I am so scared. The last time I had to make friends at a school no one really liked me and I was bullied. I have never done well being away from home. I am second guessing some choices I made about where my stuff is goi to be located in the dorm. I am just scared.1/2

I just don’t know what to do and I don’t really have anyone to talk to that gets it. I hope you don’t mind me asking (I guess I never really asked a good question but), but you seem wise. Sorry to bother you. Thanks 2/2

This is a hard question. It’s hard because there is no answer. Life is hard and life is scary and sometimes you just have to get up your courage and take the steps out into the world and learn your way as you go.

And I am not going to minimize the difficulty of that and the fear you have to overcome to do it. But I am going to tell you that each time you take a step down this path that the fear gets less and it gets less intimidating and less scary and less overwhelming and you are more able to handle the changes.

No one is expecting you to have it all figured out right away. It’s okay if you don’t know. Most other kids won’t know, either.

College is different from lower schools. I can’t say you won’t have problems, because sometimes problems happen, but it is not the same sort of social order that you are familiar with and you might have better opportunity to meet and get to know people who you fit better with.

I do know that when I started college I was shy and terrified too. Maybe not so awkward, but I felt out of place. I was going to a wealthy private school, and coming from poverty and the innercities. And my first day of school, I had to go alone, sight unseen, because my mother didn’t have the money to come with me. 

I was scared, but I screwed up my courage and did what I had to do and got to my dorm and signed up and met my roommate and slowly got to know people and make friends. Later my roommate told me how impressed she was with me and how brave I seemed and the truth was i was just as scared as anyone, I just took each step as it came, and it’s college, it’s not the wild blue yonder. There are constraints and requirements to follow and you just find yourself within their expectations. You follow your class schedule. You do the next thing on the syllabus. 

The best thing I did to combat my shyness in college was to come to the sudden realization that I might have been poor and my family might have been screwed up, but I was not wrong or bad for having my life. Or for being me. I was okay. And somehow, I decided that I was just going to take this time to live a life I liked and do the things I wanted to do (i was a pretty cautious person so it’s not like i was going crazy) and I didn’t worry about impressing other people or trying to prove myself. I am and have always been a weird person, and there was no way I was ever going to be like the prep school kids, so I didn’t bother. 

I did NOT know what I was doing. I got embarrassed and scared and messed up in mostly minor ways and felt awkward sometimes and uncomfortable sometimes and it didn’t matter. So did everyone else. And if anyone made some one feel bad for messing up or being awkward? You know what? THEY were the ones who were wrong. 

And if I found myself with people I didn’t like, I left. I ignored them. They became irrelevant to me. And I found the people I did like and spent time with them. And I found activities I liked and wanted to explore and I did them. And I took classes I was interested in. And I sat on the quad and got workstudy jobs and and did my work and studied and just let myself be the imperfect, messed up, confused, kind of okay person I was. I made college about being me and I’m so glad I did. 

So this is what I want to tell you. You might be imperfect and messed up and confused and awkward and shy, but you’re okay. You’re an okay person. There’s nothing wrong with you that isn’t wrong with other people too. Nothing that makes you not allowed to be you. Even being shy. You’re allowed to be shy. Being shy is not wrong. Being awkward is not wrong. Learn to laugh at yourself instead of taking everything as a sign that you are WRONG.

Because you’re not.

You’re good.

You’re you.

And that’s exactly who you’re supposed to be. 

Modern: CommodoreCliche’s 30 Day Writing Challenge, Day 21

Hi guys, so I know it’s not October anymore, but I saw this and was hit by a sudden rush of inspiration. And, of course, my lazy ass can’t do all thirty days (I don’t have enough brain power), so I just decided to do day 21; “Um...did you have that tattoo yesterday?”

I also stole the line “Do. Not. Drink. The. Eggnog.” from someone on here from a different writing challenge prompt, but I cannot for the life of me remember who it was, or find it again. Whoever you are, thanks.

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything from Romeo and Juliet.

I had a lot of fun writing this and I really, really hope that you guys like it.

~Lily

Modern

Lilium Aura

“Um...did you have that tattoo yesterday?” Rose asked critically as her clearly hung-over best friend, Juliet, sat down across from her in the booth. Juliet looked like she had just rolled out of bed, with half of her dark locks plastered to the side of her neck and only wearing one sock. To be fair, Rose didn’t look or feel much better, having also drunk her fair share of the eggnog the night before, but at least she had remembered both socks. Juliet didn’t respond to her question at first, just slumped over with a groan onto the cushion, something the blonde was seriously considering.

“What tattoo?” Juliet asked after a moment, seeming to remember the question, and sounding genuinely confused. Rose pointed to Juliet’s bicep, where a large heart with the name “Don” was tattooed, still looking fresh. Juliet swiveled her head to follow Rose’s finger, and when she saw the tattoo, yelped rather loudly and attempted to swat it off her arm. This made Rose laugh, but it was short lived as laughing proved to be too much for her still alcohol-laden brain. She collapsed next to Juliet on the seat, clutching her temples and groaning.

That was how Stephanie found them a few minutes later, lying down on the booth’s seats and clutching their hands over their heads. She hadn't drunk very much of the poisonous eggnog (seriously, were the bodies passed out in the corner not warning enough?), so she was relatively fine this morning. And by relatively fine, she meant that she had put on a decent outfit and had tied her long, auburn hair into a bun. She still felt like hell.

It took a lot of coaxing and gentle nudging to get them both to sit up again. When they did, she ordered three coffees from the lady behind the counter, hoping it would help them a bit.

The night before, the three of them had attended the annual holiday party at their friend Ben’s place, which they had gone to every year since they had moved into the neighborhood. Stephanie wouldn’t admit it, but she had had a crush on Ben ever since she had met him (a subject of much teasing from her friends). So, like normal, the three friends had donned their most sparkly outfits and driven over there in high spirits. The moment they were inside, Stephanie was off to find Ben, leaving Juliet and Rose to fend for themselves. They just rolled their eyes and laughed, walking off themselves to find the eggnog everyone always praised so much.

They didn’t realize their mistake until they were about three cups in and already fairly drunk, but by then they were too far gone to care.

“I thhhiinnkkk thissss stuff hasss allllcohol,” Juliet slurred, holding her cup of eggnog high in the air and swaying to the 80’s music that filled the air. Rose was a bit more sober, but as she was going for her fourth cup, she wasn’t going to be soon.

“I wanna find Mark,” Rose exclaimed suddenly, spreading her arms wide like she was announcing a proclamation. “I-I wanna tell him I lllooooovvvveeee him.” She giggled like this was the funniest thing in the world and downed more eggnog.

Mark was a friend of Ben’s who always came to the party, even though he didn’t live in the neighborhood. He and Rose had talked a few times, but it had never progressed beyond that. It was likely that it was simply the first name to pop into her head, Stephanie thought from a few feet away, laughing a bit at her friend’s antics.

Stephanie had found Ben earlier, and the two had been chatting for a while. After spotting someone pass her with a cup of eggnog, she made to go get one herself, but an extremely drunk middle-aged guy had grabbed her arm and shaken his head hard.

“Do. Not. Drink. The. Eggnog,” he said, almost panicking. Stephanie had quickly nodded, and the man let go, wandering off as if nothing had happened. She and Ben looked at each other, and for the first time since the party had really gotten going, went into the living room where everything was really taking place.

Apparently, the eggnog wasn’t supposed to have alcohol, but it was also clear that most of the guests hadn’t cared. Many of them were incredibly drunk, and Stephanie had the pleasure of seeing her boss, Ty, in his underwear and a bowler hat, dancing wildly on the table. She wasn’t even quite sure why he was there, as it wasn’t a work gathering.

Once she got over that sight (something that could never be unseen), Stephanie immediately went to go find Rose and Juliet, making her way best she could through the crowd. Ben had already left her side, muttering darkly about “Mark”.

It was amazing how fast the party had gone from an eloquent social work gathering to more like a streetside nightclub.

She found them both just in time to hear Rose’s declaration of love for Mark, and then spent the next twenty minutes keeping her from doing something she would regret the next day (mainly, telling mark). Then Rose shifted her focus from Mark to her.

“You!” she exclaimed, like she just realized who she was talking to. “You…” she slurred, and what could only be described as an evil smirk spread across her face. “Ben!” she suddenly screamed, and Stephanie jumped at the sudden sound, loud enough to be heard over the music. “Ben! Ben! Ben!”

He was there before she got a chance to shut Rose up, looking mildly intoxicated and clutching two drinks. Her concern level went from about 1 to 10 in the span of a few seconds, but it was for herself; who knows what Rose would say?

“Ben,” Rose started, putting on her best drunk serious face, “Stephanie is...Stephanie…” She stopped, struggling to form the right words, but it was just enough time for Stephanie to push her aside. Rose fell into a group of several dancing guys and forgot all about Stephanie within thirty seconds.

“Nothing!” Stephanie screamed, effectively getting his attention away from Rose and onto her. “Nothing, it’s nothing.” He looked confused, but he just shrugged after a few seconds and downed half of the cup in his right hand.

“You okay? You seem kinda tense,” he said once he had swallowed. She let out a long breath, realizing that he was right. She was tense. She groaned, and rubbed her temples. This was not how she wanted her night to go.

After a moment’s contemplation, she grabbed one of his drinks and downed it in one gulp.

The rest of the night went a little like this:

Juliet, who had wandered away from a preoccupied Stephanie and drunken Rose pretty early on (to no one’s notice), ended up on the dance floor, dancing like her life depended on it. Her wild moves were attracting a lot of stares, but less than the group of half-naked people who had decided to join her boss on top of the tables. Still, it only took about five minutes for someone to approach her, sweeping her into a slow dance during a fast song. Both of them were too drunk to notice.

“Good day my fine lady,” the man said, his thick british accent seeming to roll over her in waves. His light brown hair was wild and sticking up on his head, and his handsome face was adorned with brilliant blue eyes that Juliet couldn’t look away from. “What brings you here?”

“Stephanie,” Juliet replied honestly.

“Well then, point her out so that I may thank this woman who has unknowingly just made my dark night a whole lot brighter,” he said charmingly, flashing Juliet a bright white smile. Juliet was too awed to move. “What’s your name, my lady?” the man asked after a moment, and Juliet hesitantly cleared her very dry throat.

“Juliet,” she said after a moment. The man’s face broke into a wide grin.

“‘But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun,’” he quoted. On a normal day she would be impressed with the man’s ability to quote Shakespeare while drunk, but Juliet’s brain was too muddled to even place the famous reference.

“What’s your name?” she asked instead, but the man’s grin didn’t falter.

“Don,” he replied, and Juliet couldn’t think of anything witty for that one.

They danced for close to two hours, never once breaking their stride, no matter the tune of the song. At the end of those two hours, they were still very drunk, both of them were beyond convinced that they were soulmates, and Don was getting ready to propose.

Then things started to go downhill.

Juliet’s boss (the original half naked guy on the table) spotted them in the crowd, dancing together, and immediately recognized Don as his biggest competitor’s (Monte Fashions) son. Somewhere in his brain he must have recognized Juliet as well, because he immediately marched over there and separated the two, shouting obscenities at Don while also threatening to fire Juliet from Cap’s Inc. on the spot. When they finally realized what he was saying, they looked at one another in shock and horror, not being able to believe they came from competing companies. They both were greatly saddened by the fact, and, completely ignoring the angry proclamations of Juliet’s drunk boss, decided that they didn’t care. Their love would last for eternity.

Despite that, there was still the prospect of being fired, which Juliet, even drunk, was pretty sure she didn’t want to happen. Don agreed--he would get hell from his father-- so they decided that even though they loved each other, they could never be together.

That’s when Don had suggested that they each get tattoos of the other’s name, so as to always be reminded of their love. The two had walked out of the party, found their way to a local tattoo parlor, gotten tattoos, parted ways, and passed out almost immediately upon arriving to their respective homes.

Meanwhile, Stephanie had managed to drink the last of the eggnog, but she, maybe fortunately, couldn’t really hold her alcohol. After about a cup and a half she was passed out in the corner. Ben, who was much more sober at the time, carried her upstairs and stuck her in his guest bed, where she slept like the dead for the rest of the night.

Rose drank about six and a half cups total that night, but after about four started to feel queasy. She was really feeling it during cup #6, and she couldn’t quite help it when she turned and threw up everything onto the person beside her. It was probably a good thing that after her sixth cup, Rose couldn’t even remember her own name, much less remember that the person she threw up on was Mark.

Rose and Mark both ended up passing out at Ben’s house as well, but they were just left on the floor, along with her boss (who never did manage to find his clothes). This led to some incredibly awkward conversations the next morning.

And that concluded Ben’s annual holiday party.

Back in the present, Stephanie happily took the coffee she was being offered back to her friends. After they had drunk about half of it, they seemed a bit better, and Stephanie decided it was a good time to delve into the events of the previous night.

“So...how much do you guys remember of last night?”

Neither one of them answered right away, Juliet looking like she didn’t want to remember and Rose looking like she was trying but couldn’t.

Rose was eventually the first one to speak, and it was with a grimace. “Ty dancing naked on a table,” she said, and they all shuddered at the memory of their boss. “God, I’m not sure I want to remember any more.”

“Me neither,” Juliet mumbled, taking a sip. “Last night wasn’t a night for good decisions.”

“Here, here,” Stephanie mumbled, raising her cup and remembering how she had ungracefully passed out after having drunk only two cups of eggnog.

“Tell you what,” Rose said suddenly. “Let’s just agree to never speak of last night and whatever horrors it may or may not have held ever again, agreed?”

Juliet and Stephanie looked at each other. “Agreed,” they said simultaneously.

Across town, in a cafe very similar to the one that the girls were in, Ben sat up to greet his best friends, who appeared to be severely hungover. Don and Mark slid into the booth beside him and both immediately put their heads down, groaning. Ben was hung over himself, but it wasn’t nearly that bad.

As the waitress came by to ask them what they wanted, Don shifted his head to the side, and his hair fell forward to reveal his neck. Ben frowned, quickly ordering for them all before tentatively breaching the subject.

“Hey Don?”

“Ya?”

“Did...did you have that tattoo yesterday?”

Hope you enjoyed!

November 7, 2014 - The Tractor

This night, with her, in this tractor, as we engage in wild trancelike bouts of breathless lovemaking, is cutting so deep into my soul that I must be fully losing myself in the moment, risking the possibility of never finding myself ever again. To be fully immersed in someone else is to forget who and where you are entirely; to be so completely occupied with all that is coursing outside and within that you have no time to think or perceive what is really going on. You forget the envisioning of what could have been and everything else that will be because you are, in its most basic sense, residing in the inherent grandiosity of the now. You’re not living anymore; you’re dreaming. For a moment, the city, the mountains, and the sky were breathless, and it was just me and her in the entire universe. We flourish in one explosive bang, emitting soft moans that ascended in stirring harmony towards the misty-eyed moon; even the blinking stars must have been listening in enchantment. We sit there for a fleeting moment, both of us hugging in quiet perfection and holding each other’s hands like our lives depended on it as we listen to the hum of the crickets and the low undertone of the faint incessant traffic down yonder.

“It kind of scares me how great this is going. This is too good to be true. I just want to enjoy every single moment with you because I know that all this rose-tinted magic will inevitably fade out someday, somehow,” she says in a precautionary way, looking at me with those eyes that are always aglow with curiosity.

“Why do you say so?”, I reply.

“I don’t know, it scares me because it almost feels too perfect, so I’m out here constantly anticipating something bad to happen. I know it’s wrong to do so, but I’ve just been so used to conflict that the lack of it worries me. What if we are bound to be just like everyone else? That’s the way it always works.”

Then I answer, “I’d rather not succumb to such a pessimistic perspective. This scares me, not because of the possibility that all these magical sensations are impermanent, but rather because of the truth that this is the realest feeling I have ever felt in a long, long time.”

She takes a moment’s pause, swallowing several times distractedly. I can tell that she is muttering something under her breath, and I am also quite sure that she can feel my hands trembling a little.

Then she says, “but I am just being realistic.”

I close my eyes.

Deep in the darkest trenches of my heart, I know, absolutely and unguardedly, that what she said is not true. There are some feelings that you can fake and gloss over, and there are some that you cannot deny to yourself no matter what it is that you do. I have no doubt that my feelings reside in the latter. I know that I will retain the loyalty of her feelings in never failing to prove her wrong. In the delusion of my ego, amidst the absurdity and humanity of everything that is occurring as of the moment, it seems indubitable to me that this emotion I am feeling is as genuine and true as the stars above. This is the realest I have ever felt in a long time. Oh, if only I could convey to her how these feelings that have unconsciously remained locked inside me for years are killing me to the point of exhaustion. She impressed an instinct on my mind I cannot seem to understand; a sudden impulse to allow myself to be seduced by the heart-haunting symphony of my emotions, puncturing my bulletproof heart like an inflated wheel and rendering me defenseless. In the deepness of every beating heart, there is a cavern that holds its receptacles within itself. The restlessness, the endless hours of work, the glamour of life and all the merriments can lead us to disremember its actual  presence, but it is during times like this that the tightly sealed vessels stored inside of it are flung wide into the open. It is on occasions like this that you lose sense of what you thought you stood for, because this is one of those moments when your heart makes an insuperable decision to wash over your very being, unleashing feelings from a vault you have long forgotten to reopen. Coincidentally, you painlessly resign to it because you have become blind, softheaded and unquestioning to your own self.  The heart that I have been neglecting for a long time has now assassinated the captain of my brain that is devoid of emotion, and it has taken full command of my ship. I know that I will regain my senses when the magic subsides, but when that does happen, I will realize that it is too late to pull myself back into who I once was because I have apparently undergone a metamorphosis of an intrinsic kind; the mysterious feeling that took over me and possessed my soul now belongs to the essential nature of my existence,  and I can no longer live without it because it has become the chief of my entire being. At this moment, I know, I just know for some reason, that everything about this person beside me was formed to delight my senses. So I choose to go on, to trudge along the world, and live through my days walking under the spellbinding hypnosis that the cavern induced upon me. What is, is. I give in to it, wholeheartedly and free from all hesitation. Is it my fault? Yes, it is. My comfort zone would tell me that I should have put my guard up. Do I regret it? No. Not at all. You never really end up regretting it when you let the unpitying forces of your heart win over the tough, sober part of yourself. During these few cycloramic seconds, I can understand more by my eyes than I could ever have deciphered with my running thoughts. I am realizing that my strength, along with the large supply of galvanic battery that powers it, is just a facade for my weakness. This protective layer that usually shields me can be easily scraped away by what lies inside, this organ shielded by my ribs, whenever it wants to without deliberation, leaving me face to face with the truth, unarmed and helpless. It can take the main stage without me consciously meaning them to. There is no escaping its talons, because the option to retreat inwards is no longer there. Even if I attempt to do so, I know that my heart will just wrestle me to submission. I have lost an indispensable part of myself in this transaction: my invincibility; but hell, Abulafia, this ungraspable feeling is worth every single risk I am taking. This girl is perplexing me. She is killing me, rather. I have never felt this so powerfully as to be so frail and unable to resist it, and it frightens and mesmerizes all in one breath. Still, like everything else that kills me, be it the grind of the gym or the enchantment of alcohol, she makes me feel alive; more alive than I am really ever supposed to be. I find in her the same kind of joyous power that I find only in my passions. How was this enigmatic energy able to permeate its way into a living and breathing human being? I certainly believe that this is not an accident; everything about me and her feels like the snap of two puzzle pieces finally conjoining after a long era of separation. My inner world used to be filled with nebulous shades of gray, filled with complexity and mental turmoil, but now it is a paradise of blue, and I am sitting somewhere over the lovely arch of a rainbow.

In the middle of the short silence and the golden ocean of energy pervading the scene, as we listen to the peaceful hum of existence without the sound of wind and heartbeat, she suddenly whispers, “yet I do believe that you will prove me wrong, like you always do.”