#Barely Soundsystem

[biedujacy-artysta]

Kawalek i bitek - a właściwie jego przedpierwsze nagranie - o niezwykle wybitnej postaci.

BS Productions 2024

[streetart-nightly]

BARE BADNESS

BRITWORLD

DA9

graffiti at a free rave, secret location (north) London 2019

[nyaskitten]

Woah more headcanons (same guy as the music and hair h/cs)

Ninjago Phone Headcanons:

Jay: His phone is suuuuper old, cracked, and barely has a case, but it still works according to Jay. While he doesn't use his phone as much as Kai, his screentime is still well over average, due to the sheer amount of time he spends texting Nya and playing phone games. The background of his phone is one of those slideshows that changes every few minutes, mostly consisting of candid shots of his friends and cute pictures of himself and Nya.

Cole: Man uses his phone for one thing and that's music. While he does have a soundsystem in his bedroom, he can't exactly bring a record player with him on walks, so he'll bring along a pair of headphones and his much more portable cellphone. He has a heavy duty armored case and a plain black background cause he's nonchalant like that.

Nya: The most normal phone user, she'll text, use instagram, and listen to music all without exceeding her strict 2 hour per day limit on screentime. Much like Cole, she has a simple background that's probably an aesthetic photo of the ocean, but opts for a lighter weight clear case instead.

Kai: He's a FEIND for TikTok, Snapchat, Instagram reels, and twitter, and is 100% the most active ninja on social media. The state of his phone is a mystery, alternating between nearly destroyed and in pristine condition, though he'll usually not use a case. Like Nya, his background is an aesthetic photo, just of himself rather than a landscape... it takes the ninja ages to find out that Kai's sponsored by Borg, and receives free phones whenever he wrecks his. He really tries not to though, and feels super guilty whenever his phone inevitably falls out of his gi pocket during a fight.

Zane: He is a phone, why would be have a phone... He got one at some point in time, but it's still in factory condition, with the default background and everything. One of these days he'll donate it to someone who needs it more than he does.

Lloyd: Along with Kai, is a shortform content ipad baby, but is much less active on social media. Much to his team's annoyance, he has whatever the Ninjago equivalent of a Samsung is, so no one really texts him due to the incompatibility between devices. Like Jay, Lloyd also has various selfies and group photos as his home screen, though is also very fickle in that he changes it almost every week.

Wu: Landline

ok these are all solid actually... Nya is sooo real for that she could never get a chronic phone addiction like Kai she's too Cool for that!!!

[libraford]

Hi! So I've been trying to get back to belly dancing again and I've just realised, I barely have any music, beyond a random playlist from ye olde 2017. I don't usually listen to it either, but hearing your videos, I like what you're dancing to A LOT! Would you mind mentioning a few artists/songs/link a playlist or something? Thank you so much!

My four loves will always be:

Beats Antique (Experimental tribal fusion)

Afroceltic Soundsystem (Celtic reels, African beats. Lead singer has the smoothest voice ever. They're the song I was dancing to in the last video. Some of their slow songs will make me weep.)

Natacha Atlas (Eqyptian-Belgian like... modern Arabic jazz-hop? She does things with her vocal chords that I could not.)

Loreena McKennit (New agey Medieval revivalist for when you feel like dancing in the woods.)

But maybe I should just link y'all to my spotify list of things that make me boogie. I recommend putting it on Shuffle because I'll get really into one artist for a week, add half their discography, and then move on to the next one. But there's some EDM, some pop punk, some metal, and something that I'm calling 'unhinged foreign music.'

[bedforddanes75]

i loveeeeeee itt 🥲🫠😵‍💫😩😭🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

it makes me feel sooooo happy, warm and fuzzy. i’ll always be here for his love for lcd soundsystem, the rapture and justice. totally okay with that. “all night” was definitely my favourite but that last run of four songs makes me feel like i live in a movie that will both make my heart full and break it into a million pieces at the same time. “elevation” 😩😩😩😩 i’m totally into the mix of emo/hyperpop vibes of this and makes me think of his friends frost children whom i love. “movement” -> “you can never go home”… someone kill me now because the transition is :chef’s kiss:

i also appreciate that it’s only 27 minutes. i don’t have the attention span for long albums lol

-b

hey so. pretend i didnt post this five days after u sent it. but YES!!!!!!! actually obsessed and ur review was a Lot more detailed and Better than mine so...i apologise for that, but !!! THE LAST FOUR OH MY GOODDDD YES IT WAS SO GOOD ?? i was in SHOCK. emo hyperpop is making me giggle im obsessed. LMFAO NO i love it but i wish it was longer!!!!!! i simply do not Get short albums. that is barely pushing being an ep queen pls give me MORE

[opineonionated]

Sator Arepo

The Sator Arepo, or Sator Square, is an ancient word puzzle comprising five palindromes that's etched on various historical sites throughout the Western world. Its origins are unknown, but the square has long been thought to hold magical properties, used as a charm against illness and evil, to cure insanity or to determine whether someone was guilty of witchcraft. Self-styled "punk ethnomusicologist", acoustician and musician Julien Hairon uses this mystical symbol as the starting point for his debut Judgitzu album in an attempt to reconnect with his Celtic heritage, exploring how its hallowed messages might harmonize with contemporary Tanzanian dance music.

Hairon has been traveling across the world for over a decade, collecting field recordings from countries such as Indonesia, Australia, Cambodia, China and Bangladesh, and presenting them on his Les Cartes Postales Sonores label, re-issuing any curious cassettes and CDs he came across on the PetPets' TAPES imprint. It was during this time that he became fascinated by rituals that involved spirits, prompting him to examine his own ancestry when he returned to Brittany. "Many artifacts in the landscape remain," Hairon explains, "and the power of spirits is still palpable." He represents this Celtic mysticism on 'Sator Arepo' with murky drones and magickal synth tones, using xenharmonic scales (tuning outside of standard 12-tone equal temperament) that reach back to the ancient world. These sounds are augmented with fast-paced, sci-fi rhythms informed by his time in Tanzania; "Singeli has contaminated me," admits the producer.

The most astonishing example of this is 'Miracle', a thrusting soundsystem experiment that layers serpentine, bagpipe-esque electronic wails over extravagant clusters of blocky percussion. Driven by the frenetic 175BPM pulse that echoes through the streets of Dar Es Salaam - popularized globally by forward-thinking producers like Sisso, Duke and Jay Mitta - Hairon opens up a rare conversation, seeking to draw parallels between today's most urgent dance forms and the archaic rituals of antiquity. On 'Vitalimetre', Hairon drives his sonic palette into the red, harmonizing with Dutch hardstyle and gabber, and splaying distorted drones over maddeningly blown-out kicks and ratcheting percussion. 'L'or Des Fous' takes a more meditative route, prioritizing Hairon's eccentric tonality with expressive sheets of pitch-warped sound that ghost walk across energized, rattling beats.

If you heard Hairon's last Judgitzu release 'Umeme / Kelele', described by Boomkat as "one of 2019's deadliest dancefloor sessions," then you'll know how mindboggling this material can be. And with 'Sator Arepo', the French producer deepens his reach, grasping a world that we've almost forgotten and juxtaposing it with a landscape most of us barely comprehend.

[legofemme]

My upstairs neighbor has a huge fucking soundsystem for his stupid fucking tv and every day he turns on seinfeld or some other shitty sitcom and just lets it run the whole night. And i can hear it just barely audible through my ceiling and it actually drives me a little bit insane. I have asked him twice now to just like. Use the tv speakers and not the sound system to watch tv and he just laughed and was like 'would you prefer if i watched something else?' what if i killed you with a fucking brick dude what then

[it-brought-me-to-my-knees]

DIGICORE LOVE: MY FIVE FAVOURITE SONGS (AS OF RIGHT NOW) [#1]

recovery girl - "it’s love" / "it's love redux"

A big Hyperpop Moment for me, the loser who cares deeply about echoes of the past in the art of today: “wow this has the same chord progression as “Because The Night” by Patti Smith, that’s so crazy, I love that s- wait a minute, they’re ripping off the Cascada cover!!!”. The original is so stark that it reminds me of the days when ��hyperpop” was often mentioned in the same breath as “deconstructed club music”, but it’s such a perfect pop song that it doesn’t feel like it needs anything more… and yet I’m equally smitten with the “redux” version that fleshes it out from a minimal pop song into a rock song that’s almost too much, the snarling distortion that crept at the borders of the original bursting through the walls: jazzy emo noodling, a roaring half-time breakdown, and a guitar solo that swoops in for just long enough for you to think “holy shit, a guitar solo!”. 

Man, that wacky bass intro - get a load of Tony Levin over here!

webcage - "0M61LY5M"

Makes me feel old that they namedrop Danger Days as an emo classic in this one. I mean, I like it, but my wife is an I Brought You My Bullets purist so DD is borderline verboten in our household.  But we did talk about My Immortal on the night we first met, so I’m sure she’d appreciate a hook as on-point as “Ripped skinny jeans, black nails and a septum / all the preps, all the posers, just forget them!”. 

Quite interesting to see how quickly and subtly nostalgic art can warp the recent past - I certainly don’t remember the Scott Pilgrim soundtrack being an emo touchstone, but tbf, the “MySpace rawr x3” vibe that I’m so fond of was already on the way out during my Peak Emo Years (‘10-’12), so maybe I’m equally guilty of sloppy romanticisation. Life is so hard for me, the oldest zoomer (27): the kids are a mess but if I try to join the millennials they might start gushing about “LCD Soundsystem”.

Another big moshy breakdown! Someone really needs to start a clubnight for cringe shut-ins like me, I can’t jump around to this in my bedroom.

SEBii - “STFU…ur done”

If you’re a fan of rap, you’re probably familiar with a few of the many, many “worst rappers of all time”; there’s a new one every six months or so. You don’t have to actually be a bad rapper to be “the worst”, you just have to somehow represent a threat to rap’s status quo (despite rap’s status quo being… already bad? Don’t overthink it, just open your third eye) - misunderstood innovators like Lil Wayne and Young Thug, “I’m not a fan, but the kids like it” oddballs like 6ix9ine and Lil Yachty, even fairly traditional rappers who committed the mortal sin of rapping over DJ Premier beats while not being Guru, like Group Home (one for the old heads there). 

A few years ago, if pressed, I’d probably have said Travis Scott, who is somehow like a less charming Drake - no charisma, no bars, barely anything that even resembles rapping, but his executive-producer role makes his fans worship him like the all-singing all-dancing second coming of Beethoven. It’s galling enough when they treat Kanye like that, and Kanye could actually sit down with an MPC and make great beats, once upon a time.

Nowadays, though, if you shift the goalposts just right and ignore the music itself, I think that SEBii might actually be the worst rapper of all time. In all my years suffering in the rap nerd mines I never, not once, heard an MC namedropping RhymeZone. Not even a self-admitted ex-textcee like Ab-Soul, and that guy once rapped “let me put my mouth where you potty, boo”. 

It’s hard to contextualise him, really. There’s a lot of black American artists and a lot of white American artists on this corner of the Internet but very few from China (shout-out to Alice Longyu Gao!). He looks like someone got the word “nerd” during a game of Pictionary and had five seconds to draw it, but he’s not nerdcore (although he does make anime references sometimes). He once intentionally mispronounced “chuckle” as “chickle” so he could rhyme it with “abysmal”... which he then unintentionally(?) mispronounced as “adysmal”. But as Guru once said, “it’s mostly the voice that gets you up”, and what a voice Seb has - a smirking prepubescent squeak, like a mischievous animal companion in a video game. 

He’s fully confident and capable with the instrument that God has granted him, flipping dextrously between flows, and thanks to his ear for melody it really clicks with his beats. On paper they should be typical modern trap/drill-influenced material, but they make great use of negative space - the texture of a typical SEBii song is very lean and deliberate without ever feeling *too* sparse, cycling through different combinations of thumping bassline, jittery synth lines and dynamic drum pattern, all three occasionally dropping out completely to let echoes of that voice linger in the virtual air. 

There’s a playful, colourful sense of melody to some of his beats—"TiiKKA MASALA" is downright jaunty—that wouldn’t really work with a rapper who was seriously trying to project menace instead of talking about shit like, Idk, Sword Art Online. I know I was shitting on Travis Scott fans for talking like this just a few paragraphs ago but the VVYELLOW EP is quite an impressive work of A&R, if I didn’t know better I could believe that every beat was the work of a single producer. Goofy music, but sleek and charming. Okay I immediately regret picking "goofy" as the adjective here, now I'm wondering if furry R&B is hyperpop (yes, obviously).

This is what real allyship sounds like btw.

threedimensionsapart - “dropdead”

I like how thin this one is lyrically - the one verse almost immediately shifts back into a chorus that gets repeated so insistently that a line as banal as “you don’t even follow me on Twitter” almost takes on mantra-like significance. And barely audible in the background, those warbling falsetto backing vocals! A stroke of mad genius. Feels like it should be laughable but tbqh he could do pretty much anything on the mic and it’d still be carried by this fucking beautiful glowing summer sky of an instrumental, an “in a dream you saw the pearly gates swing open for just a second and the tiny fragment you gleaned of the sights and sounds of Paradise was forever tattooed on your tender mortal brain” type beat. Dunno how to make those, I’m probably just not adding enough reverb.

wubz - “mania”

(That cat is so cute lmao.)

So many hyperpop/digicore artists are defined by their high voice - whether it’s trans women voice-training and pitch-shifting for obvious reasons or young castrato-sounding mfs like SEBii and kmoe who just sound Like That, there’s an abundance of countertenors and contraltos.

wubz, in stark contrast, seems to have gone “lol fuck that, I’m going the other way [devil emoji]”. I know “Pitched-down vocals? Wow!!!” is a funny thing to say about a rapper in 2023 but wubz never really sounds chopped-and-screwed to me - the vibe is closer to “original Japanese voice actor for an anime hooligan”, just like the angry schoolboy on the cover art for “walls”.

This description might make him sound less emo than his peers, but make no mistake: he’s emotional as FUCK, just like gruff emo OGs Guy Picciotto and Blake Schwarzenbach. (Those guys hate being called “emo”, which is how you know it’s a real genre. See also: Andrew Eldritch/Robert Smith/Peter Murphy and “goth”, everyone I mention on this blog and “hyperpop”). These emo ties are further reinforced by his affection for beats with prominent guitar - “FE4R” in particular is more like a rap-influenced post-hardcore song than vice versa, with actual (like, actual-actual. Like “skramz”.) screamo screams and violent lyrics that, in this context, feel closer to the noir-tinged moodiness of Senses Fail or Alkaline Trio than… who’s rapping nowadays, who do the kids like… Kevin Gates? Actually now I think about it Gates singing pop-punk hits in his croaky baritone kinda predicted this vibe… ugh, it’s so annoying that someone as deeply boring as Machine Gun Kelly managed to make “what if a rapper… went pop-punk” into a commercial prospect. Should’ve been a Deep South rap crooner. Please Rod Wave, consider recording a Victory Records cover album.

This blog is already dangerously close to me just saying “[new thing] is like [old music-nerd thing], probably a coincidence but pretty wild huh” fifty times in a row but the melodic feedback shrieks on this really do remind me of early Animal Collective. Hurts so good.

And that's all for this week! Maybe month, I find schedules scary! Byeee!!!!

[chez-mimich]

LO SCORSO ANNO È ANDATA COSÌ…

Secondo il credo di François Truffaut, “Tre film al giorno, tre libri alla settimana, dei dischi di grande musica faranno la mia felicità fino alla fine dei miei giorni”, e come dargli torto? Tenendo conto che però i ritmi di Truffaut sono certamente inarrivabili, ne condivido di certo la filosofia. Quest’anno è andata così, però ho la pessima abitudine di non annotare i dischi che ascolto, ecco un buon proposito per il 2023.

ANNO 2022

"Tullio Pericoli: Frammenti", Palazzo Reale Milano, 02.01.22

“Il Mito di Venezia da Hayez alla Biennale” Castello di Novara, 09.01.22

“Tania Bruguera, la verità anche a scapito del mondo” Pac Milano, 15.01.22

“Ciò che si trova solo in Baudelaire” di Roberto Calasso, 12.01.22

“François Berthoud, Hyperillustrations”, Fondazione Sozzani, 22.01.22

“Annientare” di Miche Houellebecq, 23.01.22

"Ennio" di Giuseppe Tornatore, 02.02.22

“Grand Tour, sogno d’Italia da Venezia a Pompei”, Gallerie d’Italia Milano, 04.02.22

“Irreversible Entanglements”, Spazio Nova, Novara Jazz, 06.02.22

"Il capo perfetto" di Fernando Leo de Aranoa, 19.02.22

"Gabriele Boggio Ferraris Quartet" Taste of jazz, 24.02.22

"Chris Pitsiokos & Mulhouse Ensemble", Spazio Nova, 26.02.22

"Gabriele Boggio Ferraris Quartet". Opificio, 25.02.22

"A-Septic W/Vladimir Tarasov". Spazio Nova, 07.03.22

"Belfast" di Kenneth Branagh, 09.03.22

"Flee" di Jonas Poher Rasmussen, 13.03.22

“Chris Pitsiokos and Mulohouse Ensemble”, spazio Nova, 15.03.22

“Limes: la Russia cambia il mondo”, 20.03.22

Francesco Chiapperini: “On the Bare Rocks and Glaciers”, Taste of Jazz Opificio, 28.03.22

“Barry’s Trio”, spazio Nova, 03.04.22

“I Defunti” di Manu Larcenet e Daniel Casanave, 03.04.22

Gustave Flaubert: "Due racconti giovanili" a cura di Chiara Pasetti

Steve Mc.Queen: "Sunshine State", Pirelli Hangar Bicocca, 10.04.22

"Kris Ruhs: Heroes" Fondazione Sozzani, 16.04.22

"Steve Harries. Octopus" Fondazione Sozzani, 16.04.22

Anicka Yi: "Metaspore" Pirelli Hangar Bicocca, 19.04.22

"Bruce Weber wearing Kris Rhus Jewelry" Fondazione Sozzani, 16.04.22

"Tra due mondi" di Emmanuel Carrère, 16.04.22

"Concerto Passio 2022" Cappella Musicale del Duomo di Novara, 23.04.22

"Finale a sorpresa" di Mariano Cohn e Gastòn Duprat, 24.04.22

Elmgreen & Dragset: "Useless Bodies?", Fondazione Prada, 10.05.22

Haruki Murakami: "Gli assalti alle panetterie", 12.05.22

“Nostalgia” di Mario Martone, 29.05.22

“C’era una volta la DDR” di Anna Funder, 10.05.22

“Jazz Notes” di Giuseppe Cardoni, Opificio Novara Jazz 02.06.22

Daniele Cavallanti: “World of Music” di Daniele Cavallanrti Opificio Novara Jazz 02.06.22

“Stilnòva

Lisen Rylander Löve & Mirko Pedrotti + Biennoise, Nòva, 03.06.22

Lisen Rylander Löve “solo”, Mulino Vecchio di Bellinzago, 04.06.22

“Trio Korr”, Doneda, Grossi, Monico, Mezzomerico, 04.06.22

“Mynd”, Museo civico di Oleggio, 04.06.22

“We3” Barriera Albertina, 07.06.22

“Collocutor”: Church of Sound, Basilica di San Gaudenzio, 07.06.22

Tor Yttredal & Roberto Bonati, Museo Faraggiana, 08.06.22

Banda Filarmonica Oleggio e Roberto Mandarini, Broletto, 08.06.22

Shingai, Broletto, 09.06.22

Simone Alessandrini, “Storytellers” Mura rimane, 10.06.22

“L.U.M.E.” Lisbon Underground Musci Ensemble, Broletto, 10.06.22

Peter Evans “solo”, Basilica di San Gaudenzio 11.06.22

Alberto Braida “solo”, Casa Bossi, 11.06.22

Tom Arthurs & Giovanna Pessi, Giardino Palazzo Natta, 11.06.22

“ACRE” con Ermanno Baron e Peter Evans

Theon Cross, “Soundsystem Setup”, Broletto, 11.06.22

Kit Downes “solo”, Chiesa di San Giovanni Decollato, 12.06.22

“Erios Junior Orchestra”, Broletto, 12.06.22

Bruno Chevillon “solo”, Galleria Giannoni, 12.06.22

“Archipelagos” con Francesca Remigi, Parco dei Bambini, 12.06.22

“She’s Analog” Chiostro della Caninica, 12.06.22

“Orchestre Tout Puissant Marcel Duchamp”, Broletto, 12.06.22

“Artivismo” di Vincenzo Trione, 13.06.22

“Sotto gli occhi dell’Agnello” di Roberto Calasso, 20.06.22

“Album D’Annunzio” a cura di Annamaria Andreoli, 30.6.22

“Paris s’il vous plaît” di Eleonora Marangoni, 08.07.22

“Il costume femminile” di Georges Vigarello, 13.07.22

“Zero Gravity” di Woody Allen, 16.07.22

“La figlia unica” di Abraham B. Yehoshua, 19.07.22

“Non date a Cesare quel che è di Dio” di Claudio Balzaretti, 01.08.22

“Di notte, davanti alla parete con l’ombra degli alberi” di Peter Handke, 10.08.22

“Chris Ware” Centre Pompidou, 20.08.22

“Tatiana Trouvé, le grand atlas de la désorientation” Centre Pompidou 20.08.22

“Le reste est ombre: Pedro Costa, Rui Chafes, Paulo Nozolino” Centre Pompidou, 20.08.22

“Shirely Jaffesi, un américaine à Paris”. Centre Pompidou, 20.08.22

“Simon Hantaï: l’exposition du Centanaire”, Fondation Vuitton, 21.08.22

“La Couleurs en fugue”, Fondation Vuitton, 21.08.22

“Un seconde d’etérnité” Bourse de Commerce Paris, 21.08.22

“Allemagne/Anée 1920/Auguste Sander”, Centre Pompidou, 22.08.22

“Mirdidingkinghati Sally Gabory” Fondation Cartier Paris, 23.08.22

“Jean Painlevé: les pieds dans l’eau”, Jeu de Paume Paris, 23.08.22

“Les mondes Surrealiste de Elsa Schiaparelli” Musée des Arts Decoratifs Paris, 24.08.22

"Maison Dior", Parigi, 25.08.22

"Non date a Cesare quel che è di Dio" di Claudio Balzaretti, 31.08.22

"I miei giorni alla libreria Morisaki" di Satoshi Yagisawa, 05.09.22

"Il signore delle formiche" di Gianni Amelio, 11.09.22

"Un occidente prigioniero" di Milano Kundera, 20.09.22

"Chris Ware: la bande dessinée réinventée", 22.09.22

"Maigret" di Patrice Leconte, 23.09.22

"Remix the Cinema" Nu Arts and Community, 28.09.22

"Arsenal Ensmble: Nosferatu" Nu Arts and Community, 28.09.22

Gli instabili vaganti: "Lokdown Memory", Broletto Arts and Community, 29.09.22

"Elisabetta Consonni: Il secondo paradosso di Zenone", 29.09.22

"Sofia Donato, piano solo" Giardino Faraggiana Nu Arts and Community, 30.09.22

"Dove è più profondo"" Chiesa di Sant'Agostino, Nu Arts and Communite, 30.09.22

Ghenadie Rodani fisarmonica solo, canonica, Nu Arts and Community, 01.10.22

"As I was moving ahead occasionally I saw brief glimpses of beauty" di Jonas Mekas, Nu Arts and Community, 02.10.22

Joan Thiele, Nova, Arts and Community, 01.10.22

"Omar Soulyman" Nu Arts and community, 28.09.22

Ivan Ronda, organo. Festival di musica sacra. Basilica di San Gaudenzio, 09.10.22

"Unknown Unknows" Triennale di Milano, 15.10.22

"Il corridoio rosso" AA.VV., Catalogo mostra Triennale di Milano, 17.10.22

"Unknown Unknows" catalogo mostra Triennale di Milano, 20.10.22

"L'occasione fa il ladro" di Gioacchino Rossini, Teatro Coccia, 29.10.22

"La stranezza" di Roberto Andò, 30.10.22

"Il crogiolo" di Arthur Miller, regia di Filippo Dini, Teatro Strehler, 4.11.22

"Swinging Stravinsky" di Biagio Bagini, 7.11.22

"Ardenza" di Daniela de felice, 9.11.22

Anna Bassy, Nova, Nj Weekender Fall Editions, 12.11.22

Andrea Passenger, dj set, Nj Weekender Fall Editions, 12.11.22

Rosa Brunelo (e Tamara Osborne Collocato" Nòva Nj Weekender Fall Editions, 12.11.22

Dayakoda in solo, Nçva, Nj Weekender Fall Editions, 12.11.22

Jeff Parker solo, Nçva Nj Weekender Fall Editions, 13.11.22

Nicola Conte, Dj Set, Nçva, Nj Weekender Fall Editions, 13.11.22

Kahlil 'El Zara Quartet, Nova, Nj Weekender Fall Editions, 13.11.22

"Eros e Thanatos" Ilia Kim, piano. Conservatorio Cantelli-Amici della Musica, 14.11.22

"Tutta un'esistenza" Ivana Francisci, piano e Susanna Rigacci soprano, Conservatorio Cantelli-Amici della Musica, 22.11.22

"Lo stato delle cose" di Chiara Alessi", 23.11.22

“Recycling Beauty”, Fondazione Prada Milano, 03.12.22

Il fotografo Léon Herschritt, 09.12.22

“La Russia di Putin” di Anna Politkovskaja, 11.12.22

“Le otto montagne” di Felix Van Groeningen e Charlotte Vandermeersch, 26.12.22

“Bosch, un altro Rinascimento”, Palazzo Reale Milano, 30.12.22

“The Fabelmans” di Steven Spielberg, 31.12.22

[stevenewing]

I got to drive the Ocean for eight minutes. Eight. Still, here are a few thoughts.

[dancing-to-architecture]

22 - LCD Soundsystem - Sound of Silver (2007)

Sound of Silver, more like "Sound of my Post-Collegiate Bummer Years".

This band rules. This album rules. Listen to it if you haven't yet. Thank me later.

It might be the best example of nü-disco, which isn't really a thing but it fucking SHOULD BE.

•Get Innocuous!-

This intro is forever, but it slaps so hard you barely notice it's been 2 ½ minutes when the singing finally comes in, and the fading-out singing is such a cool sound.

Normalize "it making you feel alive"!

•Time To Get Away-

Let the vocal acrobatics commence! For a guy who kinda talk-sings through most of the songs here, his ability to go from a low note to a high note is pretty amazing. Freddie Mercury-level octave leaping on display.

Otherwise, it's a funky-ass bop about breaking up.

•North American Scum-

As something of a North American scum myself, I love this song. Unfortunately, the last time i was given the aux at work... let's just say I was alone in my enjoyment.

"And for those of you who still think we're from England? We're not."

The chorus is simple but effective, and it WILL get stuck in your head.

•Someone Great-

Another long intro that i absolutely love. It just moves.

This song's instrumentation reminds me a lot of Oingo Boingo, in that everybody in the studio is doing something entirely different, and the whole thing really shouldn't work, but it does and it's beautiful.

This song's lyrics just (and likely will always) remind me of the last time i heard it: the day David Bowie died.

•All My Friends-

Starts with one of those chaotic piano bits that sounds like it's easy to play but I'm sure it's actually incredibly difficult, considering how it sounds just slightly out of time with itself, and it just keeps up like that forever.

Also, one of the most relatable songs on the album. I miss hanging out with all my friends. It's been too damn long since I've seen most of them.

•Us V Them-

This one has always had big Talking Heads energy to me. Might be the odd percussion and kinda anxious vibe.

Kinda repetitive at the end.

•Watch the Tapes-

Eh, it's alright. Imo, the weakest song on the album, which isn't to say it doesn't pull its weight, just the one I fuck with the least.

•Sound of Silver-

"Youth may be wasted on the young, but nobody old really wants to be young again, because being young FUCKING SUCKS and there's nothing to do but get torn asunder by your own out-of-control hormones and waste your youth."

•New York, I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down-

Honestly, put this in my top 30 favorite songs of all time. One I've always wanted to try at karaoke, too.

I've never lived in NYC, never even been to New York state, but I've lived enough places and watched them change entirely to have this one really resonate with me.

(A personal aside: i miss the living hell out of you, dirty sketchy downtown Normal, Illinois. I miss your weird little shops and your holes in the wall that were all torn down to make way for hotels and CVSs and 5-over-1 "luxury apartment complexes" that all only exist to bilk college kids out of their money. They tore down and paved over everything that made you cool and interesting and replaced it with corporate bullshit, and you will never be avenged because nobody but me even cares about what you were anymore.)

This track is Completely Different from every other song on the album, but one of the most heartfelt songs of true despaired longing that i could name off the top of my head.

Nothing else i can think of properly conveys the sense of: 'yeah, sure, this place was objectively terrible and truly filthy and incredibly dangerous but it was ours and we loved it dirty and scary and wonderful. It felt like home.

And now you fucking suits and state senators have gone and cleaned it up and sanitized it and moved all the weirdos out and raised the rents to keep it the riffraff and made it "acceptable to the public" and ruined literally everything that made it special and fun and different and unique and good.'

The piano is so beautiful, the drumming at the end is inspired, and the video is exceptional, too.

Damn, this album is so good.

Favorite Track: New York, I Love You, But You're Bringing Me Down. If you listen to one song on this album, make it this one.

If you listen to two songs on this album, pick North American Scum to go with it.

Least Favorite Track: Watch the Tapes.

As prophet of our age Laura Les put it best: "we don't want to watch the news, we just read statements".

[sayingyournames]

OK its the barely legal anon i have a few more

carrion - fiona apple

leaf house - animal collective

animal instinct - the cranberries

yeah - lcd soundsystem

succexy - metric

uhhhh yeah there are def more just the whole is this it album is v wolfstar to me

HI so sorry it took me a minute to get back to u, my week has been wild.

but also YES i have listened to all of these and a few of them are making the ywlm playlist for later on in the fic, thank u for ur thoughts and song recs i love them, love u xx

[deepartnature]

Mark Stewart - As The Veneer Of Democracy Starts To Fade (Reissue 1988)

“... Probably one of the most chilling, bleak, heavy, and monochrome albums ever recorded, _As the Veneer of Democracy Starts to Fade_ is probably the epitome of, to thieve an album title from Chris and Cosey, Techno Primitiv. The album is pretty much coloured in black and white with scraping shades of grey in between. The beats will rattle your soundsystem (particularly if one has the 1995 reissue), the shrieking of instruments and samples are often cringe-worthy (particularly on ‘Bastards’), and you will barely notice that there is an almost complete absence of bass since so much is going on during most of the songs and everything sounds horrifyingly shrill. Imagine the Persian Gulf war combined with Soviet radio screaming in your ears through bullhorns. ...”

Holland Tunnel Dive

W - As the Veneer of Democracy Starts to Fade

Discogs (Video)

[whatsnewalycat]

Just Dumb Enough to Try

Chapter 19: Domestic Bliss

Word Count: 6.1k+

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Tags / CW: swearing, cheating/infidelity, smoking, binge drinking in a bar, hold the moan, PIV sex, clitoral stimulation, hand job, sexual contact in public, oops did we accidentally talk about marriage, vomit mention, drinking game, domestic abuse, the word cunt shows up a lot, dancing, attempted sexual assault, FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT, nachos

Chapter Summary: Our heroes go out to the bar and drink (arguably) too much in mixed company.

Notes: Chapter title from "Domestic Bliss" by Glass Animals. The spotify playlist for this chapter is large and in charge and has a high ratio of LCD Soundsystem songs. It's fitting because this is a big chapter (relatively speaking) that is under the influence of alcohol. If you're in the US, happy labor day weekend, remember that worker's rights movements are critical. Join a union, like IWW! I'm a member and I'm a stay-at-home mom. They have a sliding scale for monthly dues. Okie dokie friends, thank you for reading, I love you (probably- or is that weird? whatever).

[ Masterlist for Series ] [ Taglist ] [ Spotify Playlist ] [ AO3 ]

The Pour House, Laredo, TX July 25, 1998

The tartness of lime ruptures onto your tongue and neutralizes the cheap mezcal’s harsh burn. Your insides buzz as the 3rd tequila shot you’ve taken tonight settles in your belly.

“Shit, that went down too easy,” Dan hoots and slams the shot glass down on the table, making you flinch. Claudia flashes a barely detectable dirty look at him across the table, then glances at Kim to make sure she didn’t notice. Kim is sitting next to her, sharp blue eyes scanning the room as she sizes up the Saturday night crowd, completely oblivious.

You’ve been glancing up at the door every time it swings open, like a love drunk adolescent waiting for that boy. The slam of the heavy door sends your heart racing in some kind of a Pavlovian response. When he finally walks in, handsome dark features contrasted by a sky blue button up shirt, you try to remain neutral and friendly as you wave him over to the booth. He smiles wide when he spots you, then approaches the table and greets everyone, acknowledging the empty shot glasses.

“Sorry I’m late, can I get this round? What’s everyone drinking?”

Kim follows him up to the bar to “help him carry drinks back.” Your eyes are glued to them, taking note of the way she’s hanging off of his shoulder while they wait for Gina, flashing her perfect smile and arching her back towards him. A pang of jealousy stabs through you.

“I didn’t know he was meeting us here,” Dan grumbles, watching you carefully as you watch Javi and Kim.

You divert your attention back to the table and frown, meeting his gaze with a furrowed brow, “I told you at dinner last night, remember? I called him and Kim and they both said they could make it out.”

“I remember,” Claudia chimes in helpfully.

You point to her and grin, “See?”

He noticeably sours, scoffing as he mutters under his breath, “I don’t remember that.”

“Is there a band playing tonight?” Claudia asks, ignoring the angry man child sitting across from her as she nods towards someone setting up sound equipment on a small raised stage.

“I bet. No wonder there are so many people here,” you look around the dreary taproom again, recognizing a few faces here and there. None of them you desire to acknowledge, but still.

One drink in each manicured hand, Kim returns to the table first. She leans across the table to slide a gin and tonic over to Dan. You’re certain the action has everything to do with the jean shorts she’s wearing and the view Javi can get from his spot behind her. When your eyes flick to his, they’re on you. Heat rises to your face and you drop your gaze to your hands, where you start to pick at lavender nail polish.

Kim returns to her seat next to Claudia, sliding across the sticky pleather booth far enough for Javi to sit next to her. Javi doles out the remaining three cups to their rightful owners. You flash a smile of thanks to him and lift the straw to your lips. He motions for you to move over so he can sit next to you. You oblige and beam involuntarily, then try to hide your face with your hair.

“How’s Judy?” he asks when he settles in, taking a sip of whiskey, leaning onto an elbow as he faces you.

“She’s being a little punk, as usual,” you respond with a smile. His brown eyes somehow sparkle in the dim lighting when they meet yours.

He chuckles, then blatantly looks down to your lips, “Taking after her mother, then?”

“She’s a natural,” you shrug, lighting a cigarette, and add, “We had to take her in to get all her shots yesterday, which was horrible for everyone involved, but we managed to get out alive.”

“Barely,” Claudia confirms and raises a scratch-streamed arm as proof.

Javi mutters a sympathetic “shit,” as he shoves a cigarette between his lips and lights it.

“Ouch,” Kim winces and presses her fingertips to one particularly thick scratch.

“Have you met our cat?” Dan leans forward and makes eye contact with Javi directly.

Our cat.

As if he has been referring to Judy as anything other than your pet since you brought her home.

“He stopped by the day I got her-“

Dan looks like he stops himself from sneering at you before he says, “Not talkin’ to you, babe.”

“I stopped by the day she got the cat,” Javi responds dutifully, making eye contact with Dan as he takes a long drag. You contain the urge to start spouting lies about why Javi was at your house, hoping maybe Dan will let it slide without question.

He doesn’t.

“You were at my house?” Dan tilts his head with interest, then fixes his gaze on you and asks, “Why didn’t you tell me about that?”

“I- he was only there for fifteen minutes to meet Claudia and Judy,” you explain timidly, avoiding eye contact by chipping away at your fingernails, “There wasn’t much to tell you.”

He raises an eyebrow in response. The slightly tense moment is broken up when Gina stops at the table with a serving tray, then starts setting down a salt shaker, shot glasses filled with reposado, and limes.

“Fuckin’ a, really?” Dan chuckles, raising an eyebrow at his little sister, who he pins as the perpetrator.

At least that seemed to clear his mind of the previous subject. Thank god for an alcohol-induced short attention span.

She smiles innocently, “I want to have fun with y’all tonight.” Her gaze lingers just a beat too long on Javi. You feel him shift in his seat.

This is your hell. She’s not a threat, you know that Javi would never jump ship, but the attempts to flirt with the man you’re in love with still make you host to a green-eyed monster.

Shots are divided amongst the group. Lick the salt, shoot the tequila, suck the lime. Bing, bang, boom. It heats your veins and settles like a bonfire in your belly. You shudder audibly when Javi’s fingers land on your bare leg and start to ghost across the tender skin of your thigh. He exhales a chuckle.

“You ok?” Dan asks with a furrowed brow, putting an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in for an awkward side hug.

A loud nervous laugh escapes you, so you instinctively cover your mouth, then tell him, “I’m fine. It… umm, didn’t go down well. That’s all.”

“Javi, you should take another one,” Kim tells the man whose touch is dancing on your leg, leaning in towards him flirtatiously with a wink, “You have to catch up with us.”

“You know, Kimmy, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re trying to get Peña liquored up,” Dan teases and takes a long sip from his gin and tonic.

Kim flits her gaze to Javi and shrugs after glancing down at his lips, “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

A strong territoriality makes your blood boil and your face hot. You take a deep breath, then suck down your drink to stop from indulging in your temper. The touch on your thigh draws circles that bring you back to your body.

Javi shakes his head and smirks, “I don’t think my girlfriend would appreciate that.”

Your stomach flips upside down and releases a whole fleet of butterflies.

“Your girlfriend?” Kim jerks her head back in surprise, flared nostrils giving away her own jealousy under the surface, “Who’s that? When did this happen?”

“We met in San Antonio a while back. It’s only been a few weeks, but it’s getting pretty serious,” he covers his mouth bashfully as he smiles from ear-to-ear, absolutely glowing. It spreads to your face, too.

It’s getting pretty serious.

“I’m so happy for you, Javi!” you exclaim, clapping your hands, “I can’t wait to meet her.”

I deserve a fucking Oscar.

The fingertips on your thigh slide further up, flirting with the hem of your short black dress. The dress Dan hates. The one Javi loves. He nods and takes a drink, pretending he doesn’t notice your breathing quicken, then smirks, “I’ll make sure to bring her around sometime soon.”

“Whatever,” Kim dismisses the conversation with a huff, obviously a little perturbed that her Plan A for getting laid tonight isn’t working in her favor. She’s nothing if not hot and resourceful, though, and you have faith she will come up with a worthy Plan B.

“Did Gina tell y’all who’s playing tonight?” you ask Kim and Javi.

Kim nods, “Turnip Darling.”

“Wow, what a name,” Claudia marvels.

Javi’s fingers slither up further to tease your pantyline. You lean onto the table with your elbows, breaking contact with Dan’s hand around your shoulders, and spread your legs for Javi. He greedily accepts the granted access, finger pads catching friction across the delicate lace of your underwear, stroking the sensitive bud beneath.

“Country band, she says they’re a lot of fun,” Kim adds, then looks around the table, “Are y’all going to dance with me tonight, or what?”

You lose yourself in the rhythm of Javi’s touch humming around your clit for and a whimper starts to crack from your throat. You cover it by giggling, then raising your hand, “I’ll dance with you!”

“You will?” Kim and Claudia ask at the same time. They’ve both received a crinkled nose from you at the suggestion of dancing more times than you can remember. But that was a different you.

“Yeah, fuck it, why not?” you respond breathlessly. Heat rises from your neck to your face as your pulse pounds. Javi’s touch swirling around your clit is creating a cyclone at your center. It’s getting harder to conceal how turned on you are.

“Are you ok?” Javi frowns. This pulls all eyes around the table to your face.

You’re not sure if he’s trying to mentally fuck with you over the table as he physically fucks with you under the table, but as he says this, he slips a finger under the fabric of your underwear and starts to rub you directly. You swallow hard and exhale a shaky breath as you lie like your life depends on it, “I don’t know, I feel like I need to go outside, maybe. I think- fuck- I think I’m going to puke.”

I’d like to thank The Academy…

“Shit, ok,” Javi pulls back to let you out of the booth, then looks around the table, “Should I go with or-?”

Claudia raises an eyebrow in amusement and says nothing, Kim shrugs, and Dan grimaces, “Be my guest.”

With a nod to your comrades, he follows you out the back door to the patio. When the screen door slams shut with a creak-bang, you keep walking, knowing that he’s hot on your trail. You keep walking until you can turn into a dark alleyway. The creak-bang signals his departure from the bar, and Javi emerges in the alleyway a few moments later.

He strides over and crowds you as your hands link behind his neck. He grips your waist and kisses you hard, expressing his aching lust with an exploratory tongue. Unfinished wood scratches against the exposed skin of your back as he shoves you against the Pour House’s tall patio fence.

His forehead presses against yours when he pulls back and breathes, “We have to be quick.”

You arch into him and guide one of his hands between your thighs, whispering, “Just play with me for a little bit, baby.”

He groans and pulls your underwear down your thighs, then meets your sex with deft fingers. They run up and down your slit, spreading your slick, and he draws tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. A deep, tingling pleasure roils in your core. You respond with a wanton moan that’s much too loud, to which he responds by covering your mouth and growling in your ear, “Hush.”

Grabbing his hand with both of yours, you press his fingers flat against your tongue, then rut them in and out of your mouth with a quiet hum. His fingers stretch the muscles in your lips thin and scratch against your tongue lightly. He hisses, pout form an approving “O” as he watches you with love-blown eyes, never ceasing the steady thrum of circles that have you panting. Desire accumulates molten hot at your center and breaks your body out into a sweat. You need to feel him.

After releasing his wrist to tug at his pants, you stumble around the belt and zipper until he takes his hand out of your mouth, stringing saliva along on its departure, and uses it to pull out his smooth, hard cock, stroking it up and down, lubricating himself with your spit. You take over for him, pumping his length, and he groans under your grasp. He throbs and thrusts into your palm, only making you more needy.

“I need- I need-“ you huff as you clutch his shirt and rock your hips against his fingers on your clit. Static is building in your center, but you need to be filled.

He knows your body well enough to give you exactly what you need, wordlessly turning you around to ease his cock inside your wet heat. You prop yourself up on your forearms against the abrasive boards of the fence and whimper when he starts to speed up, then finds a rhythm that makes your ears ring. He holds back a moan by biting down on your shoulder, shooting a delectable ripple of pain and pleasure down the middle of you.

He pulls your back against his chest and holds you there as he buries himself inside you, stretching your cunt again and again, and his whisper his hot on your neck when he asks, “Is that what you need, babygirl? You need to get fucked?”

You whine and nod, tilting against him for better access, making you gasp when he gets it.

He gets closer to your ear and breathes, “Does it turn you on when I touch you right in front of him?”

“Fuck, it does, baby- wish he’d see and know I’m yours-“ you whimper.

He groans through gritted teeth, then grabs a fistful of the hair at the nape of your neck to crane your face towards his, rutting into you with two especially deep and hard thrusts, “You’re trying to get me in trouble, aren’t you?”

Your mouth hangs open and you babble in delirium as his cock rubs against something utterly divine, filling you from top to bottom with a blissfulness you wish would never end, “That’s fucking perfect- fuck- I want you always, Javi. I- I- wish it was you - wish it was your ring on me-“

He drags his tongue across the side of your face, ripping a moan from your throat, and rumbles in your ear, “You want to fucking marry me, hmm? Be my wife? S’that how much you love my cock?”

“Ssss how much I love all of you, Javi,” you whisper truthfully, and he leverages his grip on your hair, crashing his lips into yours, kissing you breathless as he continues to fuck you. The deafening pressure of pleasure continues to build inside you, and you’re almost at your breaking point.

“I want it, too,” he pants into your ear, deep voice filled with such a raw vulnerability, and if you could marry him right now, you would.

Your lips meet in a sloppy, desperate kiss, and soft whimpers grow louder. You cover your own mouth, trying to muffle the moans as he moves more frantically, and the ecstasy crests inside your body, making your vision fill with stars as the feeling obliterates you. Your knees almost give out, but he holds you there and works you through your climax, the tremors in your cunt squeeze around him and push him over the edge. When he cums, his cock pulses deep inside you in such a way that another wave of all-consuming pleasure swells and crashes down on you.

His breath hitches and sputters as your body contracts around him again. This time, he holds his hand to your mouth, as you’ve completely lost control of your faculties, and start to sob. When the wave passes and the huffing and heaving calms, you and Javi peel apart like Velcro, then you stumble backwards a little trying to regain your footing back on Earth.

—

You’re nervous sweating as you return to your group. Both of your hands are dripping wet because the bathroom didn’t have any goddamn paper towels, so you wipe them on your black dress as you return to the table. Javi is at the bar getting a drink, so you scoot into the booth next to Dan unencumbered.

Dan lays hazy eyes on you and pokes, “Did ya barf?”

You grimace and nod, looking down at your watery whiskey ginger with faux disdain before you take a sip.

“How’re you feeling?” Claudia asks with an exaggerated pity frown that is a dead giveaway she is not fooled.

You owe her a million times over for playing along. Truly an angel. Or a devil, you suppose, depending on one’s moral compass.

“Better. Ready to drink more,” you sigh, then glance around the table, “Sorry, I think I had too many shots too close together.”

“Boot and rally, babe. Boot and rally,” Kim winks and wraps her plump lips around the straw in her drink.

Javi slides back into the booth, setting down a cup of water in front of you, then grins, “Did you tell them you puked on my shoes?”

Your mouth gapes open in disbelief that he would make something up like that. Is it genius? Yes. But is it needlessly embarrassing? Absolutely. Regardless, you roll with it, scoffing, “I thought that was not supposed to leave the alleyway, but OK,” then you turn and announce, “Hey everyone, I puked on Javi’s shoes.”

“Suddenly I don’t feel bad for not volunteering to go with you,” Claudia snorts.

Dan guffaws with satisfaction, “Welcome to the club.”

“How many people’s shoes have you puked on, exactly?” Javi asks you, shit-eating grin spread across his face. If he wasn’t so cute, you’d catch an attitude with him, because he knows the answer.

You clear your throat and grab the sweaty watered down whiskey ginger in front of you to take a sip, then you grumble, “I will not be participating in this assassination of my character.”

“Wow, that’s dramatic,” Javi laughs. You stifle a laugh and shake your head.

Claudia sits up tall and says, “All whose shoes have been puked on by this woman, say aye.”

“Aye,” all four of your companions confirm.

You feign annoyance with Javi, whose sparkling eyes and smug smirk are warming your insides faster than the booze, then mutter as you roll your eyes, “You’re buying me a drink for that.”

The table takes one more tequila shot and gets some more drinks, and soon the volume noticeably rises several decibels as the liquor dulls senses and lowers inhibitions. You’re getting hazy and precarious in your intoxication. Javi gives in to Kim’s peer pressure and takes another shot by himself. Apparently you’re all on a mission to get fucked up tonight.

“Have you guys ever played most likely?” Claudia asks. When everyone shakes their head no, she explains, “So we go around the table and take turns asking the group who is most likely to do something. Then we count to 3 and everyone has to point to the person they think is most likely to do that thing. You take a drink for every finger pointed at you.”

“How do you win?” Dan frowns.

“Nobody wins or loses, we all just drink,” Claudia grins. This answer causes Dan to wrinkle his nose, but he doesn’t seem to oppose it.

“Fuck, ok,” you exhale a deep breath and try to prepare for how much drinking this might pertain.

I am the master of my domain. I can hold my liquor. This is fine.

“I’ll start,” Claudia announces, then thinks for a few seconds, “Who is most likely to get an ass tattoo?”

Everyone points at Kim, except for Kim, who points at you.

“Jokes on y’all I already have an ass tattoo,” Kim sticks her tongue out, takes 4 sips, then asks, “Who’s most likely to get into a fight?”

You and Claudia point at Dan, and everyone else points at you.

“I punch one guy and now I’m the fighting person?” you scoff and take 3 sips.

“You got in a ton of fights when we were younger, too,” Claudia notes. Javi leans forward in his seat, interested to hear more. You put your pointer finger to your lips and shush her because this man doesn’t need any more goddamn ammo to tease you.

When Claudia rolls her eyes and zips her lips, you see her wink to Javi. They are obviously in cahoots. You give Javi a don’t fuck with me look and he raises his hands defensively, laughing, “Easy now, Muhammad Ali.”

This game goes on for about a half an hour until the band starts warming up, at which point, you are all drunk. You separate from the herd after a bathroom break in order to get some fresh air and, ironically, smoke a cigarette. There’s an empty picnic table out on the patio, so you sit down and light up. A creak-bang sounds from the door behind you as someone else walks onto the patio.

Recognizing the gait immediately, you grimace to yourself, then turn around to face your fiancé.

“What’s up?” you give him a boozy smile while taking a drag.

“Jus’ seein’ how you’re doing,” he shrugs, then sits down next to you.

You hum, “Mmmmm drunk. But good, I’m having fun.”

“Yeah? You wanna maybe uh…” he points to a decrepit shed in the corner of patio, right outside the alleyway Javi fucked you in earlier, “Go have some fun in there?”

The suggestion actually makes your stomach lurch, and you respond without thinking, laughing in his face, “Absolutely fucking not.”

His face goes dark as he asks through gritted teeth, “What?”

In a true move of alcohol induced shortsightedness, you take a drag from your cigarette and blow it in his face before rubbing it out in a nearby ashtray, “I said n-“

His mitt of a hand seizes your jaw and forces you to look at him as he spits, “Talk to me like that again, bitch, see what happens.”

“Ow, Dan, what the fuck?!” you howl and pull yourself away from his bruising grasp, then stand up and scramble to get inside. Need to be around other people. Right now. He catches up and grabs your wrist before you can open the door. You start panicking and try to rip your arm back, but it doesn’t shake him loose.

“Chill the fuck out, babe. You’re being crazy right now,” he scolds. His contradictory actions and words spurn you into a frenzy.

“Fuck OFF, Dan. Let fucking go of me!” you thrash your arm violently, trying to get him to release you. He lets go of you right as you yank with all of your might. Your ass breaks your landing, bouncing off the cement as you tumble backwards. If you weren’t already sedated and numb from the booze, it would have fucking hurt.

He scoffs at you and walks inside without another word.

“FUCK! YOU!” you scream at the top of your lungs at the closed door. It releases some of the pent up rage that’s been percolating. Feels fucking lethargic. You get back on your feet and dust yourself off, take a deep breath, then go back inside.

Javi clocks how upset you are as soon as he sees you approaching, as made evident when his face falls from loaded contentment to concerned bravado. He’s planted in the outer ridge of spectators watching Turnip Darling, who are playing a cover of Alan Jackson’s “Chattahoochie” at a deafening volume. Leaning in towards your ear, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Fuckin’ Dan,” you grumble loud enough so he can hear you, pursing your lips, unable to bury your anger, “Being an asshole, keeps tryna touch me. Grabbed my face. I fuckin’ fell on the cement.”

Javi’s warm brown eyes flick behind you to (who you’re assuming is) Dan, then back to yours. His nostrils flare and jaw tightens, then he leans closer to you and asks in a low voice, “You want me to go talk to him?”

Your eyes widen and you can’t help but laugh at the ludicrous suggestion, “Oh, yeah, that will go well,” you scoff, “I’d really like to get through this night without being assaulted or becoming unhoused.”

“Come live with me,” he responds simply. You flinch back in surprise and study his face. He’s not kidding. Your hands start to tingle and heartbeat races. With a shrug, he leans in again, “It’ll be safer.”

“Can we talk about this when we’re not shitfaced?” you ask, unable to comprehend the turn this conversation took. What you want to say is yes, absolutely yes. But you’re aware that it might be the alcohol willing him to offer this to you.

He nods then looks down at your lips and back to your eyes, “I’m just letting you know… you know, that it’s an option. I’m ready.”

Fuck, I want to kiss him right now.

“Javi?”

“What?”

“I fucking love you,” you tell him, then watch his face brighten into a big dopey smile. He licks his lips and looks down at your mouth. He wants to kiss you right now, too.

His eyes catch on something behind you and he nods in greeting. Kim and Claudia join your party of two, pulling you both out to the dance floor with them.

In confirmation of the previous genre determination, Turnip Darling only plays covers of country songs. You’re not complaining, though, because it’s a blast to dance and sing along to the music. While you, Javi, and Kim dance in a carefree and noticeably inebriated fashion, Claudia drunk dances in a style that can only be described as midwestern robot dad. It involves a lot of jerky hand and arm movements, and is so obnoxious that it’s endearing. Dan sits at the bar and watches you like a hawk as he continues to guzzle hard liquor.

You do your very best to ignore his gaze and let go of everything, to just have a good fucking time… and you do. It feels like freedom. Dancing with your favorite people in the whole world like nobody else can see you brings you immeasurable joy.

When Turnip Darling announces that they’re taking a break, you all go out to the patio to cool down in the nighttime air.

Once again, you light a cigarette, and then Dan emerges. This time, though, Javi, Claudia, and Kim are with you, smoking and stumbling in place and laughing about all of the very righteous dance moves you’ve all been busting. The company brings you a sense of sanctuary until Dan comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, bending over to nuzzle his face into your neck as your body tenses. Claudia is frozen, and Kim scrunches her nose at the obviously unwanted physical affection. Your eyes shoot to Javi, who is unmistakably upset. He’s rigid, staring at Dan’s hands as they slide around your body like he’s trying to light them on fire with his mind. His lips are pursed and his free hand is clenching and unclenching at his side.

Dan starts laying kisses on your neck, bringing his hands up against your rib cage, inching closer to your breasts. Javi takes a step forward, then back, and he runs a hand over his face. He looks like he’s fighting with himself, and you know exactly what the topic of contention is. You roll your shoulders to shoo your fiancé, wincing as you chide him, “Dan, stop.”

He doesn’t stop pawing at you, so you turn around to scold him. The boozy sly smile on his face takes you by surprise, and you jerk your head back. He puts your chin in a vice grip and leans in to kiss you. You step back and plead, putting your palms out towards him as you shake your head, “Hey, come on, don’t-“

“You come on, babe,” he purrs and grips your waist to pull you close. His mouth presses against yours and you feel his tongue trying to gain entry. It makes your stomach churn as you recoil, screaming internally for this to end.

“Stop, Dan, please,“ you whine in a shaky voice. When you push against his chest and lean away, panic seeps into your bloodstream. Your pulse quickens and you resist the urge to curl up in a ball atop the dirty cement.

“Hey, she said no,” Javi snaps. You cease movement and gaze up at him with pleading eyes. His face is a cold machine you barely recognize. It sends a shiver down your spine.

In response, Dan growls in frustration, then grabs your wrist and drags you stumbling along behind him towards the shed. He doesn’t break his stride when he calls back, “Mind your own fucking business, Peña.”

The panic grapples in your chest until it finds something different to utilize. Instead of feeling like you're seconds away from hibernating within yourself, you start to feel your skin trying to fly off of your bones.

Get off get off get off

“Dan, fucking let go of me!” you dig your heels into the cement and throw your weight down, breaking his hold. Javi catches you before you fall on your ass again. He steadies you, then puts himself between you and Dan, who’s backtracking towards you. His blue eyes have turned black. He looks like he’s been possessed by a demon. But you know that this is him, really. This is him at his core. His mask has slipped. He looks like he would rip you apart with his bare hands if he could get ahold of you. A tight coil of fear implants itself inside your belly, twisting and turning, making you feel nauseous.

Javi puts a hand up towards Dan in an attempt to calm him. Dan stares around Javi like he’s not even a human, just an obstacle between him and the thing he wants to destroy. He oscillates back and forth, trying to find a point of attack, never breaking eye contact with you, then starts ranting, “You crazy fucking cunt, you’re making a huge mistake. Make me seem like the fucking bad guy. Ok. You have no idea what I’m capable of, bitch. I will fucking ruin you.”

“Stop-“ Javi cautions.

“Shut the fuck up, Peña. Can’t believe this bitch has you caping for her. You been spending a lot of time with my wife, huh? Don’t let her get your hopes up, she’s a selfish fucking cock tease. Gets what she wants and then takes pussy off the table, fucking bitch-“

“I’m not your fucking wife,” you spit. Even though you can’t see Javi’s face, you know his eyes are glued to Dan. You see him close his fist around a lighter and keep it there. The writing is on the wall.

Dan is pacing like a caged animal. You’re his prey. His face is blazing red and shiny with sweat. A stick of dynamite about to fucking detonate.

“Yeah and at this rate you never fucking will be. Try me. You think someone else is going to put up with you? You think he’s going to put up with you?,” Dan points to Javi, who slowly tilts his head at the comment. He keeps raving, “You crazy fucking cunt. I give you everything you could ever want and this is how you thank me? No wonder your own parents don’t even fucking love you-“

Dan has such tunnel vision in his tirade against you, he doesn’t notice Javier come at him, red hot. Javi throws his weight into a blow to Dan’s face, cutting him off mid-sentence. The sick wet thud of skin-on-skin contact is loud enough to make you jump back and gasp in surprise.

“ENOUGH!” Javi screams, then stands over Dan, who is crouched, clutching his face. Javi pulls him up by his shirt, leveling his eyes with the agitator. He pokes a finger against Dan’s chest and growls through gritted teeth, “If you don’t get the fuck out of here right now, I will fucking kill you, do you understand me, motherfucker?”

He pushes Dan stumbling backward and watches him regain his composure, at which point, Dan seems like he’s going to try to get into Javi’s face. However, Kim saunters up past Javi, towards Dan, and pats her brother’s chest, signaling him to follow, “Come on, Daniel. Don’t be an idiot. Let’s go back to my place and get some sleep.”

You feel Claudia come up behind you and grab your tingling hand as you watch Dan huff, then begrudgingly follow his sister out into the alleyway. Once he’s out of sight, you turn to her, and your face crumbles when you meet her sad eyes. You sob, “I’m so sorry, Claud.”

She pouts, eyes pooling with tears, then pulls you in for a hug and whispers, “Don’t be sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

You hug her back as you choke out, “I know it’s just- I didn’t want it to be like this when you were here.”

She gives you an extra tight squeeze and takes a step back to look into your burning, teary eyes, “It’s ok, I promise, it’s ok. I love you.”

You sniffle and squeak, “I love you too.”

She nods, then retreats so Javi can console you. He draws you close and you melt into his embrace, sobbing against his chest, apologizing profusely. He pets your hair, kisses your forehead, sways you back and forth. His deep voice like lullaby calms you as he mumbles words of affirmation into your ear, trying to undo the damage of Dan’s scathing tirade.

“I love you, cariño,” he whispers, mustache tickling your cheek, “Do you two want to come to my house?”

You shake your head, “I- I have to bring Claudia to the airport tomorrow morning. All her stuff is there-“

“I’ll stay with you there, then,” he decides.

“Ok,” you draw a shaky breath. This brings you a considerable amount of comfort. As if it knows you’re out of immediate danger and can now concentrate on less pressing concerns, your stomach growls. You sniffle, “Can we make nachos?”

He burst out laughing, then takes your hand in his, kissing it before telling you,“Absolutely, baby, let’s go make some nachos.”

The three of you collectively have enough sense to make nachos in the oven without burning the house down, thankfully.

“I love you guys,” you tell them as you curl up on Javi’s lap with a plate of nachos. Dawn of the Dead, one of your comfort movies, plays on the TV. Like the drunk slob you are, you continue talking after shoving a chip in your mouth, “Like, you’re my two favorite people ever. And I get to eat nachos with you both right now. This is the best.”

“It’s pretty fucking stellar,” Claudia agrees, then looks at Javi, “Although, sorry, Jav, you’re not one of my favorite people yet. Maybe someday, though. You stood up for my best friend and I think that’s very favorite-people worthy.”

“Honorable mention, at least,” you contend, looking to your beau with love in your eyes.

He shrugs and winks at Claudia, “I’ll get there someday.”

Being the most responsible (see: sober) one in the house, and an actual sweetheart, Javi herds you and Claudia’s into your bed when the movie is over and the nachos are gone. He goes out into the living room to sleep on the couch.

You and Claudia giggle and joke around as you fall into a sleepy drunk delirium. Judy settles into the space between you and vibrates with happiness as she sleeps. Claudia turns on her side to face you and whispers, “I really like him. And the two of you together. I’ve never seen you this happy.”

You giggle and take a few long blinks, “Which is saying something considering what a fucken mess it is.”

“It’s cute,” she yawns, then rubs her eyes, “You ‘n’ Javi, not mess. Mess’snot so cute.”

“He’s the one, Claud. Gonna marry him. Have his babies. I know it,” you mumble. She’s already snoring.

[ Next Chapter ]

[a--stranger--world]

DRIVE!

american dream: lcd soundsystem [but there's no going back against this california feeling] loser: beck [things are gonna change, i can feel it] all the young dudes: mott the hoople [television man is crazy saying we're juvenile delinquent wrecks/oh, man, i need tv when i've got t.rex] free ride: the edgar winter group [come on and sit here by my side/come on and take a free ride] lost track: haim [i'd take the smallest crumb/but i'll never get back what i lost track of] jenny, you’re barely alive: rilo kiley [and the greatest escape/that you ever did make/with your arms by your side/left it up to fate] trapped in a box: no doubt [oh trapped in a box/i'm not alone/i know of others with a box as their home/light only enters from a crack or a hole/oh this is not enough for a human to grow] life during wartime (live): talking heads [you oughta know not to stand by the window/somebody'll see you up there] the fear: the shins [i know i've run out of luck/this fear is a terrible drug/if i only had sense enough/to let it give way to love] something in the night: bruce springsteen [but they caught us at the state line/burned our cars in one last fight/and left us running burned and blind/chasing something in the night] i will survive (cover): cake [as long as i know how to love/i know i'll be alive] no cars go: arcade fire [hey!/us kids know/hey!/no cars go/where we know] let me roll it: paul mccartney, wings [i want to tell you, and now's the time] so what’cha want: beastie boys [well i think i'm losing my mind, this time/this time i'm losing my mind; that's right] any major dude will tell you: steely dan [any major dude with half a heart surely will tell you my friend/any minor world that breaks apart falls together again]

listen

[droogiesanddiscourse]

“Wear Your Makeup Like A Man”

(Paring: Sonny Wortzik x Reader) 

Word Count: 1,500 

Sonny Wortzik was the first ever queer character I saw in cinema, and had a profound impact on my life. So here’s a little character study ;; gonna CRY. Title is from the LCD Soundsystem song call the police! No warnings, enjoy! 

8:01 AM

Brooklyn, New York 

The hustle and bustle of the city rumbled below, morning traffic beginning to piling up. The early risers already emerging from their houses, checking their mailboxes and gathering the daily paper. In the distance, children’s screams of joy pierced through the morning as they stomped and splashed in the water spraying from the uncapped hydrants.

It’s summer.

You sat at your vanity, fumbling through your makeup bag. You start lining your products up one by one across the table - foundation, eyeshadow, eyeliner, blush, and mascara. There. That should do it for today. 

You never wear makeup to impress anyone else, you just really enjoy the way you feel in it. It gives you a boost of confidence, and you love experimenting with new looks. It’s a little indulgence in self-vanity, and finds its way in your typical morning routine.

Another body moved around the apartment, currently starting breakfast in the kitchen. The smell of coffee permeated through the complex. 

A slight shuffle is heard from behind you, then the familiar creak of the bedroom door opening. Your boyfriend, Sonny, stood in the doorway. In one hand, holding a cup of coffee, and the daily newspaper in the other. Sleep still crusting his eyes and refusing to get out of his pajamas, he lets out a yawn. After living with him for around six months, you’ve learned he’s not the biggest morning person. 

“Hey, babe,” he ruffles your hair and gives a quick kiss to the top of your head, perching himself next to you on the bench. It barely gave enough room to comfortably seat two people, but Sonny squeezes in close to you. Being a bit of a needy lover, he will always find, no, make. Make room to be next to you. 

Sonny’s very aware of your makeup hobby, and finds it quite enjoyable to witness your artistic process. How steady your hands are, how your brushes dance across your face like a painter on a canvas. He watched intensely as your wrist delicately flicked a black line above your eyelid, pulling it out to create a sharp wing. He remembers this style is called...cat eyes or something like that. Sonny never understood why a little black line ontop the eyelid made a woman so confident, but he couldn’t help but notice how it made your (e/c) eyes pop. 

Sonny’s eyes carried down, looking at the beautiful pink rouge dusting your cheeks. How it highlighted your cheekbones, how it made you look so feminine. Everything about you was just so soft and delicate to him, you reminded him of a doll. 

And in that moment, he wanted to feel like that too. Before he can catch himself, the words tumble out of his mouth. 

“Could you do my makeup next?” 

You stop in your tracks, turning to look at Sonny quizzically. He’s got an unreadable expression across his face, something you could only describe as embarrassment. And, maybe just the smallest glimmer of hope that you’ll take him up on his offer. 

“Want me to do what?” 

He pauses, gulping audibly. “Fuck,” he thinks to himself, “You’ve really gone and done it now, idiot. She’s gonna think I’m a freak. You finally got yourself a nice girl to settle down with, and what do you gotta do? You-” 

As Sonny’s thoughts race, a voice rings out in his ears. He’s immediately tugged back into reality, present in the here and now again. 

“I mean, If you want me to, sure!”  

You begin to dig throughout your makeup bag again, rummaging through different eyeshadow pallets and expired makeup you refused to throw out. “Now, usually it’s not sanitary for two people to share the same makeup, but I’ll let it slide today. Maybe if you find an interest in makeup, we can work on building your own collection.” 

Sonny barely pays attention to what you’re saying. Not because he isn’t interested, but because how quickly you took him up on his unexpected request. 

Studying his face, you tap your chin in contemplation. “Now, what kind of look are we going for today? More natural, something bold. Oh. I know, maybe a look for a night on the town? You tryin’ to impress someone, aren’t you Sonny. Got a hot date I don’t know about?”

You try to crack a few jokes, as you notice Sonny’s nervousness. Lighten the mood a little. While your boyfriend was usually playful, during times of uncertainty or fear he locks himself up in defense. There was nothing wrong with him exploring makeup. In fact, you found it endearing in a way; Sonny cared enough about you that he wanted to partake in one of your interests.  

“Well, since this is your first time and all wearing makeup, I’ll go with something more natural,” you get up from the bench, standing in front of him to get a better angle. 

You hold up a little silver tube, and detach the lid, showing Sonny the tiny, bristly brush that was encased inside. “See, this is mascara. Do you know what mascara is?” 

Sonny nods. “Yeah, I’ve seen you use that before.”

“Well we’re off to a great start then! I’m going to use this on your eyelashes.” You tilt your head, “Though, honestly Sonny you already have some amazing eyelashes, I wish we could trade,” you sigh dramatically. “Some guys just don’t appreciate what they have.” Sonny chucks at that, and you smile. The room already begins to feel lighter. 

“Okay, I'm gonna need you to close your eyes for this.” 

As you move forward, he flinches away from the brush, startled by the new sensation on his eyelashes. You jump a little too, surprised by the sudden motion from Sonny. Fear that you might have hurt him, you profusely apologize. 

“Oh no no, (Y/N) it’s okay, I just didn’t expect it to feel like that,” Sonny frantically explains. 

You let out a sigh of relief, “It’s ok Sonny, I promise I won’t poke your eye out.” Standing up tall, you playfully nudge him, “Trust me, I’m a professional.” 

“(Y/N), you know I trust you.” 

“I know, just wanted to hear you say it.” 

Sonny puts his whole trust in you, and will eventually become a bit more comfortable under the makeup brush. Sonny would even goes as so far to find it soothing after a while, having you pamper him like this. 

“Okay, open!” 

Sonny opens his eyes, batting his eyelashes at you. His large, brown orbs search your face for any sign of reassurance, for any sign that this is okay, that he is allowed to do this. Your heart practically melts. 

“Oh, Sonny that looks so good on you! I’m..actually surprised I...” 

He tries to turn his head towards the mirror, but your hands immediately reach out and grab both sides of his face. You hold him in place, locking eyes with you. “Wait, no! Lemme finish the completed look first!” 

Continuing, you attempt to recreate the makeup you’ve done for yourself today on Sonny. Cat eyes, mascara, and pink blush. Backing away, you admire all your hard work. His delicate features are amplified by your makeup choices - his long, thick eyelashes deeper and more profound with a coat of mascara. The sharp, winged eyeliner drawing attention to his large eyes. A slight dusting of rouge on his cheeks highlights his jawline and his plump cheeks. Your heart flutters - how are you so lucky to have such a beautiful partner? 

 “Ok, Sonny, I think you’re all done. Wanna see?”

You grab his shoulders, guiding his body to be positioned right in front of the mirror. Wrapping your arms around him, you rest your chin on top Sonny’s head. “It’s funny, you don’t need makeup at all. You’re just so beautiful already. But, I must say, you pull it off.” You pull away, smiling, and returning to your space on the bench. 

Sonny is shocked, slowly moving his hand up towards his mouth. You made him look so beautiful, tears start to prickle in his eyes. In an attempt to become even closer to you, he leans his head against your shoulder, gazing at your shared reflections in the mirror. For the first time, he feels complete. No fear, no shame, the most important person in his life accepting him fully. He may have to hide his confusion from his family, from his friends, from his coworkers. But not you. 

“You look handsome.”

“Do I look pretty, can I be pretty too?”

“Of course you can be pretty.” You smile contently, “You can be anything you want, Sonny. Just as long as you’re mine.”