#De Palma remember

[lulue-xie]

An art of Kisara I will never finish

[laragazzafortesworld2]

Perché la nuova canzone di Fred mi fa piangere? :')

Sarà forse perché ripenso al mio ex e alla relazione tossica che abbiamo avuto?

Sarà perché aspetto ancora delle scuse da una persona che probabilmente non se ne mai fottuta un cazzo di me? Probabilmente

Io 🤝 Illusione 🤝 scuse inesistenti.

[luvielie]

eres mía, felipe otaño

pairing: felipe otaño x fem!reader summary: você tinha o noivo dos sonhos, o vestido perfeito e a data marcada. mas é claro que o seu ex-namorado precisava aparecer do nada para bagunçar toda a sua cabeça, de novo. warnings: SMUT!! cheating, era pra ser smut tapa na cara murro na costela mas acabou virando angst (sorry), remember com o ex, oneshot meio longa pq me empolguei, reader tchonga e pipe com 0 amor próprio pro plot fazer sentido, p in v, dirty talk, manhandling, (um tiquinho de) dry humping, fingering, degrading beeeem levinho, dsclp eu sou perturbada e precisava compartilhar isso com o mundo. note: tava ouvindo eres mía do romeo santos (muito boa, recomendo!!!!) e o pipe numa pegada ex magoadinho que ainda não aceitou direito o fim do namoro simplesmente DOMINOU minha mente. aí já viu, né? tive que largar o bom senso e tudo que tava fazendo pra escrever.

no te asombres si una noche entro a tu cuarto y nuevamente te hago mía bien conoces mis errores el egoísmo de ser dueño de tu vida

VOCÊ NÃO DEVERIA ter saído de casa naquela noite.

sinceramente, nem queria ter ido. o casamento seria amanhã e você estava uma pilha de nervos, pensando em tudo que poderia dar errado. apesar de ter uma cerimonialista e uma equipe inteira com mais de dez pessoas à sua disposição — que seu noivo, gentilmente, contratou para te ajudar —, intencionava passar a noite toda checando, novamente, todos os mínimos detalhes porque não confiava em mais ninguém além de si mesma para garantir que seu dia fosse o mais perfeito possível. isso, claro, até suas amigas invadirem sua casa, gritando e pulando igual crianças hiperativas, e te arrastarem para uma boate de quinta com a desculpa de que você tinha que sair para farrear com elas uma última vez antes de se entregar de corpo e alma para a vida de castidade do casamento.

e você, contrariando todas as suas ressalvas e o sexto sentido que implorava para que não fosse, acabou aceitando. era só uma despedida de solteira, afinal. usaria uma fantasia ridícula — um véu xexelento, um vestidinho branco curtíssimo que mais parecia ter saído de um catálogo da victoria’s secret e uma faixa rosa com “noiva do ano” escrito em letras douradas, garrafais —, beberia um pouco, dançaria até se acabar e aproveitaria uma última noite de extravasamento com as amigas de longa data. justamente o que precisava para desestressar um pouquinho antes do grande dia.

nada demais, certo?

seria se não tivesse o visto. de costas sob a luz neon e encoberto pela névoa fina de gelo seco, ele parecia ter saído diretamente de um sonho — ou um pesadelo, se preferir — e você quase se convenceu de que realmente estava presa em algum tipo de alucinação causada pelo combo estresse pré-cerimônia + álcool. até faria sentido no momento mais delicado da sua noite ver em um estranho qualquer a figura do ex que você, apesar de jurar o contrário, nunca conseguiu esquecer totalmente, numa pegadinha maldosa pregada por seu cérebro sacana, para tentar, aos quarenta e cinco do segundo tempo, te fazer duvidar das suas escolhas. entretanto, sabia que buscar se convencer daquilo seria, no mínimo, idiota e ilógico e você, além de não ser nem uma idiota, também era uma pessoa muito lógica.

não tinha álcool ou estresse no mundo que te fariam confundir aquela silhueta que conhecia mais do que a palma da própria mão. os ombros largos escondidos pela camiseta preta, que sempre foram sua obsessão secreta, os braços fortes que por tantas noites frias te aninharam, acalmaram e apertaram, servindo como um casulo para te proteger do mundo do lado de fora, e a cabeleira sedosa, significativamente mais longa desde a última vez que se viram, na qual amava afundar os dedos em afagos demorados, só para sentir a textura dos fios castanhos deslizando sobre a pele. era capaz de reconhecer felipe otaño — ou pipe, como costumava chamá-lo quando ainda compartilhavam alguma intimidade — até de olhos fechados.

sentiu o mundo girar e o estômago contrair, enjoado, pronto para expelir todo o conteúdo de repente indesejado. havia perdido milhares de noite de sono pensando em como seria o momento que se reencontrariam, como agiria e reagiria ao vê-lo novamente depois de tanto tempo, todavia, em todos os cenários que antecipou na sua cabeça sempre se imaginou fazendo algo muito mais maduro e racional do que simplesmente fugir covardemente igual uma gatinha apavorada. 

“preciso ir”, avisou as amigas rapidamente, sequer dando tempo para que elas tentassem te convencer a ficar mais um pouco ou se oferecessem para ir junto, e literalmente saiu correndo, aos tropeços, da boate, desesperada para ficar o mais longe possível daquele fragmento do seu passado irresoluto.

já de volta ao apartamento, que em poucas horas deixaria de ser seu, não pôde evitar de pensar em tudo que no último ano tanto se esforçou para esquecer, hiperventilando com o turbilhão de sentimentos adormecidos que resolveram despertar todos de uma vez só. a essa altura, felipe deveria ser uma página virada da sua história, algo distante e incapaz de perturbar a paz supostamente inabalável que tanto lutou para estabelecer. não conseguia entender o que tinha de errado consigo. não era isso que você queria?! estava a um passo de alcançar a vida tranquila, monótona e rotineira que sempre sonhou e, ainda assim, seu coração se retorcia dentro do peito como se você estivesse prestes a tomar a pior decisão de todas.

a campainha tocou, de súbito, te afastando dos pensamentos indesejados. em uma noite normal, teria ficado com raiva da inconveniência de quem resolveu ser sem noção para vir incomodar tão tarde, porém, o alívio de ter a possibilidade de ocupar a mente com qualquer outra coisa que não fosse aquilo foi tão grande que até torceu para encontrar do outro lado da porta a senhorinha do apartamento trinta e dois, que adorava alugar seu ouvido por horas com as histórias intermináveis sobre a argentina dos anos setenta.

para a sua angústia, não era ela.

“você não excluiu o meu cadastro da portaria”, a voz arrastada arranhou seu cérebro cansado e precisou de quase um minuto inteiro para que os neurônios raciocinassem a imagem que seus olhos enxergavam. “por que, hein? tava esperando a minha visita, nenita?”.

o apelido escorrendo pelos lábios carnudos e rosados com tanto escárnio enviou um choque diretamente para a parte de trás da sua cabeça, que instantaneamente se converteu em uma pontada azucrinante de dor. perdeu o ar, sentindo-se minúscula ante a presença asfixiante, enorme, despreocupadamente encostada no batente da sua porta, e o ruído em seus ouvidos triplicou de altura.

“felipe, por que você tá aqui?”, conseguiu, finalmente, balbuciar uma pergunta. 

ele sorriu abertamente, um pouco maldoso, bastante ferido, como se não acreditasse que você estava mesmo perguntando aquilo — até porque nem ele saberia responder.

felipe, também, não sabia o porquê de ter se dado o trabalho de ir até seu apartamento. ao ver um vislumbre do que pensou ser você, agiu no impulso, sem razão, e quando se deu conta estava na sua porta, tocando a campainha, tarde demais para dar meia-volta e desistir de sabe-se lá o quê. diria para si mesmo que só queria confirmar que realmente tinha te visto na boate, que não estava ficando louco, mas, no fundo, ele sabia que o que havia o levado para lá foi a descrença, alimentada pela esperança de ter se confundido e te encontrar de pijama, confusa de sono, sem um anel de compromisso reluzindo na canhota.

“ué, vim dar os parabéns para a…”, esticou a mão e tocou a tira de cetim que ainda pairava sobre seu peito, resvalando suavemente os dedos na pele desprotegida do decote escandaloso. “noiva do ano!”.

a vontade de vomitar te invadiu novamente. não tinha preparo para lidar com pipe, nunca teve. ele era inconstante, irregular, incontrolável… um furacão impossível de prever, logo, impossível de se preparar. passava truculento e imperdoável, bagunçando tudo que encontrava pelo caminho e principalmente você, que inevitavelmente acabava com a vida virada de cabeça para baixo, completamente desarranjada. sentiu no fundo da garganta o gosto amargo daquele sentimento de vulnerabilidade que te acompanhou durante todo o tempo que passaram juntos, como namorados, causado justamente pela agonia de não ter o controle da situação, de ter a existência nas mãos de outra pessoa, longe do seu alcance.

esse foi, aliás, o grande motivo para ter terminado com o otaño: a falta de controle. você, tão certinha e organizada, que desde criança gostava de planejar qualquer coisa minuciosamente, até as mais simples, porque ser pega de surpresa era enervante demais para você então tinha uma necessidade quase fisiológica de estar sempre a um passo à frente de tudo, mas que, no relacionamento de vocês, tinha justamente o contrário; com pipe, seus dias eram um constante passeio de montanha-russa, impremeditável: não importava o quanto se preparasse para a descida, toda vez ela acharia um jeito novo para te aturdir.

por isso, seu noivo era o homem perfeito para você. calmo, uniforme, corriqueiro, totalmente premeditável e incapaz de agir pelo impulso, o que oferecia a segurança de uma rotina sólida, sem imprevistos. isso deveria ter sido suficiente para você bater a porta na cara de felipe e deletá-lo completamente do seu sistema, porém, quando percebeu já tinha permitido que ele entrasse novamente dentro da sua casa, e consequentemente da sua vida, sem oferecer a menor resistência aos avanços das mãos grandes que buscavam, ávidas, tocar cada centímetro da sua pele gélida, te enclausurando entre aqueles braços fortes só para garantir que você não teria como fugir de novo.

“deixa eu te dar um presente de casamento”, pediu com aquele tom de voz baixo e servil, embebido de desejo, sabendo bem como só aquilo era suficiente para te deixar toda molinha, prontinha para ele. os olhos tremeram sobre as pálpebras e soltou um grunhido fraquinho, sentindo aquele calor conhecido envolver a sua pele arrepiada, fazendo seu sangue borbulhar dentro das veias.

“pipe, eu me caso em algumas horas…”, o restinho de consciência que existia em você suspirou contra o rosto dele, tão próximo, e nem sabia mais para quem exatamente estava dizendo aquilo: se era para ele ou para si mesma.

“mas agora você é minha. pela última vez.”

pipe sempre te beijava com a fome de mil homens, querendo consumir o máximo de você, como se a vida dele dependesse daquilo. os lábios fartos envolviam os seus com urgência, rápidos, vorazes, te dando tudo que tinha ao mesmo tempo que tirava tudo de você, numa troca contínua, e a língua quente e úmida invadia sua boca abruptamente, dominando a sua, ocupando cada espacinho da cavidade molhada. você nunca admitiria aquilo em voz alta, mas sentiu saudade de ser beijada de verdade, devorada por lábios sedentos e lascivos, capazes de demonstrar só com aquele simples ato o quanto te desejava. gemeu ruidosamente quando ele te apertou contra a parede fria da cozinha e pôde sentir cada músculo teso pesando sobre os seus, afundando-lhe no gesso claro. o homem avançou a perna um pouco para frente, invadindo com a coxa o espaço entre as suas, na intenção inicial de te dar algum tipo de apoio e garantir que você conseguiria se manter em pé durante todo o ato; porém, você, inebriada, mal percebeu os movimentos desesperados do próprio quadril, que se empurrava para frente e para trás, buscando qualquer tipo de fricção que aliviasse a tensão cruciante que já estava completamente instalada no baixo-ventre.

“mira eso… mal encostei em você e já tá se esfregando em mim igual uma perrita no cio”, caçoou, estalando a língua em uma falsa desaprovação para esconder o ego masculino amaciado. “que foi, nenita? não estão te comendo direito? ay, pobrecita…”

resmungou um palavrão baixinho, envergonhada, se contorcendo toda ao sentir ele erguer um pouquinho mais a perna e pressionar a intimidade sensível bem de levinho, só para te provocar e provar a própria teoria. e, para pontuar ainda mais a provocação, o homem deslizou a mão esquerda para o núcleo incandescente e pressionou a palma contra intimidade dolorida, sentindo toda a umidade que já escorria abundante pelas dobrinhas delicadas, encharcando a calcinha branca de algodão. balançou a cabeça para os lados, produzindo um tsc, tsc, tsc baixinho, fingindo estar decepcionado, todavia incapaz de disfarçar o sorriso vaidoso que se pintou na face extasiada ao constatar que, mesmo após tantos meses, você ainda reagia tão bem aos toques dele e que, pelo jeitinho entregue — o mesmo que ficava quando passavam um tempinho mais longo sem sexo, o que era raro na relação de vocês, mas vez ou outra acontecia —, nenhum outro foi capaz de te proporcionar o mesmo que ele.

arrastou a pontinha dos dedos pela carne coberta, alcançando o pontinho de nervos e o circulou com suavidade, os olhos vidrados na sua expressão sofrida e deleitosa, a boquinha entreaberta permitindo que os suspiros sôfregos deslizassem dengosos pela sua língua. ele afastou o tecido branco para o lado, soltando um gemido deliciado ao ter o veludo avermelhado derretendo-se diretamente sobre os dígitos calejados, a entradinha negligenciada apertando-se ao redor de nada. “pipe…”, o chamou em súplica, fincando as unhas nos ombros largos sob o tecido da camiseta preta, ensandecida com o tesão que queimava sob sua pele.

felipe aproveitou a mão livre para segurar seu pescoço delicadamente, acariciando a extensão macia e buscando entalhar na memória, novamente, todos os detalhezinhos que ele já conhecia tão bem e que, depois daquela noite, não veria mais. os pares de olhos, amantes de uma vida passada, enlaçaram-se e pipe se dissolveu em emoções indesejadas, desnecessárias, que fizeram a boca trabalhar mais rápido que o cérebro: “você não tem ideia de como eu senti falta dessa carinha que você faz quando tá assim, toda desesperada, doidinha pelo meu pau”, confessou sentimental, mas se arrependeu logo em seguida. não queria, nem deveria, falar de sentimentos e do passado, tampouco sobre como você o destruiu quando foi embora sem explicação e como o destruiu, mais uma vez, quando reapareceu vestida daquele jeito, esfregando na cara dele a felicidade de estar se casando com outro homem.

então, empurrou aqueles pensamentos para o fundo da mente, de onde nunca deveriam ter saído, e deixou que os dedos fossem engolidos pelo buraquinho necessitado, junto com o ressentimento, torcendo para que seus fluídos lavassem o sentimento amargo do sistema dele.

lentamente, ele movimentou os dígitos largos para dentro e para fora, curvando-os para atingir o pontinho mais doce dentro de você, o polegar subindo para estimular o clitóris inchadinho. você revirou os olhos, e tinha certeza que os vizinhos já conseguiam ouvir seus lamentos exasperados, repetindo o nome de felipe como uma prece sofrida, pedindo por mais e mais, tão carente por toques mais expressivos que te libertassem da agonia insuportável que maltratava o baixo-ventre. o homem conhecia todos seus pontos mais fracos e sabia exatamente como usá-los para, com o mínimo contato possível, te quebrar inteira e te deixar assim, inconsistente, enlouquecida, implorando por ele em uma insanidade avassaladora, assustadora, desconhecida até mesmo para si. ele te desmontava e remontava a bel-prazer, transformando-lhe no que quisesse, como se você fosse a bonequinha favorita dele.

“você vai pensar em mim amanhã, na sua noite de núpcias”, prometeu ao pé do seu ouvido, deixando uma mordida suave na derme sensível da lateral do seu pescoço. “quando ele te tocar, quando te beijar… você só vai conseguir pensar em como ele nunca vai ser capaz de te dar metade do que eu te dou”.

pipe te deixou por um segundo para se desfazer da calça e da sua calcinha, ouvindo seu chorinho magoado, mas não demorou em arrastar as mãos para sua bunda, apertando a carne macia com força antes de te alçar e carregar seu corpo trêmulo até a estrutura de madeira presente no centro do cômodo. te foderia primeiro ali, sobre a mesa da cozinha que conhecia tão bem o íntimo de vocês, mas já planejava depois te levar para o quarto, para a cama que tantas vezes compartilharam, onde afundaria o rosto em sua buceta sensibilizada e faria questão de limpar cada gota do prazer que estavam prestes a compartilhar, do jeitinho despudorado que ele sabia você amava, apesar de fingir que não. naquela noite, ele queria muito mais que gravar sua pele: queria se gravar na sua alma, garantir que cada nervo do seu corpo lembrasse dele por toda a eternidade, para que você, assim como ele, fosse condenada a pensar todo santo dia pelo resto da sua vida no que abriu mão.

esfregou a cabecinha dolorida do pau nos lábios encharcados, embebedando-se com a sua essência, misturando-a a dele, e você gemeu audivelmente em resposta, ansiosa, arqueando-se para ficar o mais perto possível de pipe, numa vontade louca de fundir os dois corpos em um só. o argentino franziu o cenho, um misto de mágoa e tesão o atingindo como um soco na boca do estômago. não conseguia não devanear com uma circunstância diferente, em que o vestido branco embolado na cintura seria um de noiva de verdade e o anel brilhando no seu dedo seria uma aliança dourada com o nome dele gravado na parte interna. 

você seria a mais bela das noivas, disso ele tinha certeza.

incapaz de conter o sentimentalismo, se viu entrelaçando os dedos aos seus, puxando-os de encontro a face e depositando um beijo delicado no diamante solitário, assim como faria se a ilusão fosse verdadeira, antes de empurrar o membro endurecido profundamente dentro de você, sentindo suas paredes o apertando numa pressão semelhante a que fazia o coração dele, estilhaçado, dentro do peito.

aquela era a terceira destruição que você causava na vida de pipe, entretanto, dessa vez, ele iria garantir que fosse a última.

quando o sol chegasse ao ponto mais alto do céu, você estaria caminhando pela igreja decorada para jurar amor eterno ao homem que era perfeito para o que havia planejado para a vida, mas naquele momento, com o véu noturno os escondendo, toda sua existência pertencia unicamente ao homem imperfeito, de quem seu coração jamais seria capaz de se recuperar.

si tú te casas, el día de tu boda le digo a tu esposo con risas que solo es prestada la mujer que ama porque sigues siendo mía

[muzaktomyears]

Yoko said to me: ‘I was told John was in danger in New York’

Elliot Mintz was the friend with whom John Lennon and Yoko Ono spent some of their most private moments. Now he has written a book in which he reveals what went on after the former Beatle was murdered in 1980

John Lennon and Yoko Ono in New York on November 26, 1980, just days before his death

Part of me started to wonder if perhaps I’d acted rashly. My mother had heard a radio report about a shooting on 72nd Street. The Lennons were not answering their phones. The Dakota operator had hung up on me. Was that enough to send me racing to the airport to catch the last flight to New York? But then I saw a flight attendant exit the cockpit, tears streaming down her cheeks. As she hesitatingly made her way down the aisle, I reached out and touched her arm.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “They killed him,” she answered, gulping back a sob. “They murdered John Lennon.”

For a long moment I found it impossible to process what I’d been told. And then, like a flash fire in the brainpan, the horror of what happened exploded in my consciousness. “John is dead,” I whispered to myself. My best friend was gone. My heart began to race, I found myself gasping for air. I literally doubled over in pain as my whole body absorbed the shock.

Lennon, Ono and Elliot Mintz outside the Mampei hotel in Karuizawa, Japan, in 1977

I don’t know how long I sat, crumpled in agony, but eventually I regained a modicum of composure. I realised I had to marshal my thoughts and plan what to do once the plane touched down at JFK. I needed to pull myself together, bury my grief, and be strong for Yoko and Sean.

I had seen John just a few weeks earlier, in New York; he and Yoko and I had spent a long evening at the Dakota listening to their soon-to-be-dropped Double Fantasy album. At around two in the morning I said my goodbyes. John walked me to the door.

“Remember,” he cautioned me, “walk on the side of the street where the doormen are. Don’t walk on the side of the street next to the park.” “John,” I said, “I grew up in New York. I know how to walk in this city.” That was the last time I saw him.

Lennon and Ono at home with their son, Sean

By the time I got to the Dakota, at around 7.30am, at least 5,000 people had gathered on 72nd Street. At the request of Richie De Palma, Studio One’s office manager, a couple of officers helped me across the police cordon. Suddenly, I was face-to-face with the crime scene: there was blood on the pavement as well as shards of broken glass from a window shattered by one of the bullets.

I rode the elevator to the seventh floor. The Lennons’ housekeeper, Masako, let me in. It was clear she’d been crying. “Yoko-san in bedroom,” she said in broken English. “Door locked.”

I paused at the closed door, then gently knocked. “Yoko, it’s Elliot,” I told her softly. “I’ll be right outside until you are ready to see me. I’m not going anywhere.”

After about five minutes, I saw the door open a crack. I stood up and peered inside the bedroom, illuminated by the big-screen TV, which was showing live local news footage of the Dakota. Yoko had been watching, with the volume off. Even though the windows were shut and the shutters closed, I could hear the music from seven floors below. The sound of mourners on the street singing John’s lyrics would fill the apartment for days to come.

Lennon surrounded by fans in New York in August 1980

Standing by the bed, wearing silk pajamas and a kimono, Yoko looked incredibly frail. I reached over and gingerly put my arm around her. She touched my face, then crawled back into bed.

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked her. “There’s nothing anybody can do,” she weakly responded. “Have you eaten anything? Can I bring a cup of tea?” “Elliot,” she answered, “your presence is comforting. You don’t have to say or do anything.”

I sat down in my usual spot, the white wicker chair, and we both watched the images flickering on the TV. For a while, my eyes wandered around the room, eventually settling on John’s bedside table, where I spotted a pile of books — it was an eclectic stack, to say the least, everything from The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir to Your Child’s Teeth: A Parent’s Guide to Making and Keeping Them Perfect by Stephen J Moss. Yoko’s reading material was similarly varied.

Suddenly, a picture of the suspect appeared on the screen. Yoko sat up and stared intently at the mug shot of the assailant; she seemed both mesmerised and repulsed — and deeply confused — by the face of the man who had murdered her husband.

The following weeks were a blur. I spent a lot of them downstairs at Studio One, joining a staff of four or five employees, fielding a never-ending barrage of phone calls. At one point early on, an assistant held out a phone for me. “He says he’s Ringo Starr,” she whispered. Ringo was calling from a pay phone and wanted to make a condolence call with his girlfriend (now wife), Barbara. I ended up sneaking them into the building through a back entrance.

“I know exactly how you feel,” Ringo told her when she greeted him and Barbara in her bedroom. “No, you don’t,” Yoko replied, “but I’m grateful you are here.”

One evening, just a day or two after John’s murder, I returned to the apartment to find Julian Lennon sitting alone in the kitchen. He was now 17 and had just flown in from London by himself to pay his respects. (He told me later that the flight was filled with passengers reading papers covered with headlines about his father’s killing.) John and Julian had made some repairs to their estranged relationship, but Julian had practically no relationship with Yoko or with his half-brother, Sean.

“Would you look after Julian?” Yoko asked me. “It’s so depressing here. Take him around New York, show him different places.”

She was asking partially as a kindness to Julian but also as a mercy to herself. Yoko was in no condition to deal with John’s grieving teenage son; she could barely handle her own child’s grief. Sean reminded her so much of John, she found it painful to be in the same room with him, so he and his nanny were dispatched to the Lennons’ vacation home in Florida.

Police outside the Dakota, the apartment complex where Lennon was killed

I found the idea of sightseeing with Julian a bit odd, but we ended up spending a day together, culminating with a trip to the viewing deck atop the World Trade Center. It was one of the few pleasant interludes in an otherwise unbearable stretch of misery.

One of the other assignments I took up around this time was reading through the bags of hate mail. The most worrying ones were flagged for further investigation by law enforcement and shared with Yoko’s private security, who started pinning the names and descriptions of the senders on a bulletin board at Studio One.

I was always running into bodyguards in the kitchen. The irony was impossible to miss: this house built on love and peace was now filled with guns. At one point, even I started carrying a snub-nosed .38 revolver in an ankle holster. I was also provided with a bulletproof vest. One of the few times I recall willingly slipping into it was when a man fitting the description of one of the assailant’s fan club letter writers was spotted on the street outside the Dakota.

He was a tall, young, otherwise innocuous-looking fellow. I approached him carefully and asked him for the time. When he lifted his wrist to look at his watch, I could see under his jacket what appeared to be the butt of a gun.

I quickly returned to the Dakota lobby and called the police. They arrived in minutes, pushed him against a wall, discovered what was indeed a weapon, and hurried him away.

Julian Lennon, Ono, Mintz and Sean Lennon at the dedication of Strawberry Fields as a memorial to Lennon in New York in 1984

Nearly as shocking and upsetting as the dangers that were swirling outside the Dakota were the perils lurking inside. Yoko would learn that some of her most trusted confidants were scheming against her. By far the worst offender was an assistant named Fred Seaman, a trusted aide who, earlier in the year, accompanied John on a trip to Bermuda — the trip on which John wrote many of the songs for Double Fantasy.

Incredibly, almost immediately after the murder, Seaman began smuggling shopping bags stuffed with private papers from the Lennon offices and residences — including five personal journals that John kept hidden under his bed — hauling them uptown to the apartment of his accomplice, Robert Rosen, as part of a scheme to write a tell-all book. We eventually got the diaries back, and Seaman ended up pleading guilty to second-degree larceny.

Yoko found herself surrounded by traitors. Whom could she turn to? For a while, she leaned on the companionship of her friend and interior designer Sam Havadtoy, who not only moved into the Dakota but began sharing a bedroom with Yoko, although not the one she had slept in with John. This struck many on her staff as curious. Although Havadtoy was undeniably charming, appeared to have Yoko’s best interests at heart, and was terrific with Sean, he was also a gay man.

Yoko continued to grow more and more wary of just about everyone around her. I don’t know if I ever fell under Yoko’s suspicion but I do recall one moment when she and I came dangerously close to a serious argument, after I implored Yoko to let me conduct a radio interview with her and Sean to dispel some of the more outrageous rumours being spun about the Lennon family following the publication of Albert Goldman’s book about John, like the notion that he was an abusive husband and father (who once allegedly kicked Sean across a room); and that he was a drugged-out recluse, possibly schizophrenic, and an enthusiastic devotee of Thai prostitutes.

“I’ve never asked you to comment about any of the other books, but this one we can’t ignore,” I told her. Yoko paused for a moment, then responded. “Let me check with my advisers,” she said, meaning her team of tarot readers and numerologists.

Mourners at a vigil for Lennon shortly after his death

I’d never expressed scepticism about Yoko’s mystical beliefs but for once, I pushed back. “Yoko, let me ask you something,” I said. “If these advisers are as good as you believe they are, why is it that none of them saw what was going to happen to John? Why was there no warning?”

Yoko’s answer astonished me. “Elliot,” she said, “how do you know I wasn’t warned? Did you ever ask me if there were warnings?”

“Okay,” I said, “I’ll ask you: Did any of your advisers warn you about John being in danger?” “Yes,” she answered. “I was told he was in danger in New York and that he should be removed immediately. That’s why I sent him to Bermuda over the summer … But I couldn’t keep him away forever. He had to come back at some point.”

I was speechless. “Look, Elliot,” Yoko went on, “you know how John felt about his own safety. We talked about this at our kitchen table when your friend [the actor Sal Mineo] was killed. John said, ‘If they’re going to get you, they’re going to get you.’ It didn’t matter what my advisers told me. He didn’t believe in bodyguards, he wouldn’t put up with them. He wanted to be free.”

(source)

[margareth-lv]

👸🏻 The Queen of Manipulation 👸🏻

Do you remember the lively (sighs, sighs) discussion that ensued here after Caitríona, after long weeks of silence, shared an IG story on Saturday 13 January 2024?

❓

The question of why Caitríona had shared a picture of a slim, tall blonde walking through the streets of a sunny city instead of her own, shared by Maria McManus, hung over us like the sword of Democles.

*** *** ***

Meanwhile, today, Thursday 18 January, we learn that Caitríona looked like this on Saturday 13 January 2024:

("TheAmateur" cast and crew at the private dinner on 13 January 2024 in Marseille, IG by @ora_ito on Instagram).

*** *** *** The following day, Sunday 14 January 2024, Sam was spotted on a flight to Las Palmas de Gran Canaria.

❓

Could the Queen of Manipulation be sending a message to her fans: "If you see a brunette with bangs at the airport (flying to Gran Canaria), it's not me"? Or is it just my imagination?

[January 18, 2024]

[marypsue]

Man, clearly it has been a long time since I first saw Brian de Palma's Carrie because I had fully remembered her killing her mother before leaving for the prom.

I think an adaptation should do that, honestly. And then keep the prom scenes exactly as dreamy and positive and 'oh if only I could turn it off right before the bucket of blood drops' as ever. But you can't. It's already too late. The line's already been crossed. The thing you can't undo has already been done. There is no golden moment of innocence to stay within. It's already too late. It's already too late. It's already too late.

[fieldghoul]

I happened to read this interview where Alex Ross Perry (co-director of Rite Here Rite Now) was talking about his Videoheaven and Pavements projects, and this quote jumped out at me:

Cinema Scope: There’s a line that keeps popping up in Videoheaven: “The movies talk about themselves.” I like this a lot, and it’s interesting that a filmmaker like Brian De Palma was ahead of the curve in assessing the symbolic or semiotic potency of the video-store space, whereas later on it served mostly as a backdrop for romantic comedies. It was a way to hint that the characters had inner lives, and taste, but rarely to the point where they genuinely talk about movies. It’s like a weird uncanny-valley thing: I remember always wondering what the characters on Friends would say about La Dolce Vita (1961), the poster for which is hanging in Monica’s apartment, or if the version of Die Hard (1988) they rented had actual profanity in it…  Alex Ross Perry: Well, this is something that only people like us would ever think about. If they rent Die Hard on Friends, but then Bruce Willis appears in a later season as Ross’ girlfriend’s father, in this world, is there simply a guy who looks like Willis and has his mannerisms, and so on? And has he ever seen Die Hard? This question is of course made text in Last Action Hero (1993), with the Stallone Terminator 2 (1991) gag. To say nothing of the now well-known and HD-enhanced fact that on Seinfeld, Jerry owns Child’s Play 2 (1991) and Arachnophobia (1990) on VHS, along with Pretty Woman (1990), which stars Jason Alexander…I’m reading too much into all this, but so would a De Palma character. 

(For some broader context -- Videoheaven is an as-yet unreleased documentary about video stores, particularly as they're featured in film.)

But it made me think, it's funny, isn't it -- the VHS tapes in Rite Here Rite Now.

Some of them are vague -- for the two box sets next to the TV, the top one has a logo that was used for Prequelle Exalted version, and the bottom is the logo for either Impera (possibly Phantomime, it's hard to tell which with the color grading in the movie). I don't think anybody has definitively figured out what Ghost In the Trees means, but Haze Over North America Tour 2013 was a real tour that happened, but no audio or video of it was ever released (at least, not in our universe).

On the table, we have one more box set with the If You Have Ghosts logo and art, and we see tapes of the Chapters videos. New Blood, Tax Season and Meanwhile in Dublin, are shown up close, plus Nap Time is on the desk in front of Sister Imperator.

The fact that the Chapters exist on VHS is what's so weird. There's really no way to reconcile the existence of these tapes in the Ghost universe with the way most people would have understood the Chapters up until now. I think the default interpretation of a piece of fiction is that it is true in its own reality -- i.e. in the universe where Cardinal Copia is himself, and not Tobias Forge in a mask, the Chapters are something that actually happened. It's much weirder to see it it as some kind of meta-fiction, where it's a scripted production put together and released by these fictional characters. But Rite Here Rite Now is a movie about Copia and Sister Imperator and Papa Nihil and not the actors that play them - how could the chapters possibly co-exist with the characters in-universe?

I always think that's a fun part of Ghost -- the veil between the universe of Ghost's lore and reality is often so thin. They come out to play in our world in the form of concerts, and it's not quite like meeting Mickey Mouse in Disney World where the costumed character's experiences have no bearing on the canon. The real life shows Ghost performs add to the counter Papa Nihil is keeping for Copia. The accolades that they allude to in the Chapters - the Grammy, the gold certification for Mary On A Cross, TikTok virality - all happen in real life.

For the record, I don't think we're meant to explain the tapes in RHRN, for the record -- my interpretation it is just a nod to what Alex Ross Perry mentioned in the interview. It is impossible to have a fictional storyline that takes place in the real world without running up against paradoxes you create.

Also, allow me to plug my own post, from earlier: besides the VHS I already mentioned, there are two others on the table that are partially obscured and unidentifiable - the one in the GIF above, with the Union Jack on it, and one other in an orange case that appears to say "Australian Tour" (the "tour" part is cut off in this screen cap, but is somewhat visible in the video). I can't tell if there's other text on the VHS cover, or if it's just graphics.

I can't figure out if it's young Nihil on the cover or a stylized version of Papa III -- but either way, Papa Nihil of course never went on an Australian tour in our reality (or, theoretically, in theirs - since, per Metal Myths, Nihil's version of Ghost "immediately disbanded" - not that Ghost is unwilling to retcon things) but neither did Papa III. There were plans for an Australian tour during Meliora era, but they fell through when Soundwave was cancelled in 2016. But I guess it's another point where their reality diverges from ours :-)

[theemotionmachine]

50+ Motivational Latin Proverbs to Elevate Your Thinking to New Levels

- Acta non verba ("deeds not words")

- Ad meliora ("towards better things")

- Ad victoriam ("to victory")

- Audere est faucere ("to dare is to do")

- Astra inclinant, sed non obligant ("the stars incline us, they do not bind us")

- Bono malum superate ("good will overcome evil")

- Carpe diem ("seize the day")

- Calamus gladio fortior ("the pen is mightier than the sword")

- Cogito, ergo sum ("I think, therefore I am")

- Cras es noster ("tomorrow, be ours")

- Dictum factum ("what is said is done")

- Duc, sequere, aut de via decede ("lead, follow, or get out of the way")

- Dum spiro, spero ("while I breathe, I hope")

- Ego te provoco ("I challenge you")

- Est modus in rebus ("there is a middle way in all things")

- Faber est suae quisque fortunae ("every man is the artisan of his own fortune")

- Familia supra omnia ("family over everything")

- Fons vitae caritas ("love is the fountain of life")

- Fortiter et fideliter ("bravely and faithfully")

- Gladiator in arena consilium capit ("the gladiator is formulating his plan in the arena")

- Grandescunt aucta labore ("by work, all things increase and grow")

- Humilitas occidit superbiam ("humility kills pride")

- Igne natura renovatur integra ("through fire nature is reborn whole")

- Incepto ne desistam ("may I not shrink from my purpose")

- Magna est vis consuetudinis ("great is the power of habit")

- Memento mori ("remember you must die")

- Memento vivere ("remember you have to live")

- Memores acti prudentes future ("mindful of what has been done, aware of what will be")

- Morior invictus ("death before defeat")

- Non ducor, duco ("I am not led, I lead")

- Omne initium difficile est ("every beginning is difficult")

- Ordo ab chao ("order out of chaos")

- Palma non sine pulvere ("no reward without effort")

- Pax vobiscum ("peace be with you")

- Praesis ut prosis ne ut imperes ("lead in order to serve, not in order to rule")

- Praemonitus, praemunitus ("forewarned is forearmed")

- Primum non nocere ("first do no harm")

- Qui non proficit, deficit ("he who does not advance, goes backward")

- Qui totum vult totum perdit ("he who wants everything loses everything")

- Sapientia potentia est ("wisdom is power")

- Si vis amari, ama ("if you wish to be loved, love")

- Sic parvis magna ("greatness from small beginnings")

- Sic vita est ("such is life")

- Suum cuique ("to each his own")

- Tempus fugit ("time flies")

- Tendit in ardua virtus ("virtue strives for what is difficult")

- Ubi concordia, ibi victoria ("where is unity, there is victory")

- Vacate et scire ("be still and know")

- Veni, vidi, vici ("I came, I saw, I conquered")

- Verba volant, scripta manent ("words fly away, writing remains")

- Vincit qui se vincit ("he conquers who conquers himself")

[terrence-silver]

Okay, but what do you think kk3/ck Terry's reaction would be if he walked in on beloved watching a movie like platoon or rambo?

-

Can...I tell you what I think him and John would think of every major iconic Vietnam war movie respectively? At least the ones I've seen?

― Because I think Kreese watches Platoon religiously and has for decades; some people might put on a Christmas or Holiday seasonal classic, he puts on Platoon. It's the man's comfort movie, if anything, crazy as that may sound. If you asked someone like Johnny Lawrence or any of the surviving OG Cobras if they remember what Sensei's Kreese favorite flick was by chance back in the days they'd all possibly have vaguely fading memories how he liked that one war movie with the big guy who had the scarred face. Probably owned the VHS tape as soon as it came out back in 1986. and utilized that video track to goddamn near deterioration in his player, relating most to Berenger's character (of course) meanwhile, Terry indulged watching it with him, possibly on a glossy home theatre in his mansion purely to 'give Johnny the pleasure of watching his favorite flick in real style, just as he deserves' and he never confessed to the fact the film was slightly uncomfortable for him because Lt. Wolfe eerily reminded him of himself and his own clumsy nature back in the days. It's like someone took his own life story and translated it into film.

― Terry Silver actually (sadistically) loved Casualties of War until John told him the portrayal of US soldiers in it is so offensive and downright distasteful to him the movie in his opinion comes off like a virtual smear campaign 'against our heroes who served', which immediately had Terry changing his tune to appease John. Yeah, you heard that correctly; it's not offensive towards the storyline of the Vietnamese village girl getting kidnapped and repeatedly abused but it's offensive towards the soldiers portrayed in a bad light. Wrap your head around that. What can I say, these two are unhinged in their own right. Anyway, in an effort to endear himself to Kreese and basically avenge him Terry went as far as attempting to run a smearing campaign of his own against Brian De Palma; a guy who lived a few blocks away from Terry's own mansion back in the 80's. The whole media effort was so ridiculous and such a fever dream of a 'fact is stranger than fiction' type event that if anyone today knew about it, they'd call it an outright lie because it sounds made up --- but, it's one of many things Terry did for John and because of John. The whole 'let me retaliate against a movie director for John' went on long after him and John fell out, which led Terry to come to his senses and realize just how much he's doing for a friend who's no longer there.

― Terry might've watched Apocalypse Now as it released, post-war. It's 1976, the whole Vietnam thing is still fresh in everyone's memory, Terry might've started experimenting with cocaine and drugs of various kinds and here's this very bizarre, psychedelic topical movie everyone's talking about to top it all off. Not impossible to think he might've gotten seriously high while re-runs of the movie ran, again, in some colossal, extravagant home theatre within the compound of his Hills mansion. I imagine Terry could've had a phase where he was seriously tweaking out and trying to cope with PTSD any way he could, experimenting just what worked and for all intents and purposes this was one of the milder ways. Might've had an orgy in his said home theatre too while the movie ran, just to top the gross, unhinged decadence off --- and it wouldn't even classify as the top craziest things Terry did back in the days as he was trying to re-socialize himself into society. Meanwhile, John? John thinks Apocalypse Now is pretentious; style over substance. Much like with Berenger in Platoon, he's convinced Kurtz is a phenomenal soldier who's own government and peers turned their back on and this is a hill Kreese will die on.

― Deer Hunter seems like a movie both John and Terry would've mutually liked, enjoyed and one that left a profound (bittersweet?) impact on both of them (at least the second half of it, anyway), harrowing them back to their own time spent in POW captivity, making it indeed a difficult watch; not that either of them would ever admit to this and one would almost get the impression they watch it precisely for the same reason Christopher Walken's character started playing Russian Roulette professionally once he was no longer even being forced into it in his own captivity --- because there's something weirdly and complexly cathartic about being in control of one's own pain, facing one's fears and returning to the scene of the crime is sometimes a given reaction for a victim of trauma; such is the case with John and Terry --- while they watch the movie wholly poker faced and might even on occasion laugh, smile or comment like any normal person would, with nothing seemingly wrong going on on the surface, true fact is that this movie in particular really messes with something nameless inside of them that's been there ever present since they returned from the war.

― Contrary to popular belief I don't think Terry Silver would relate to Rambo or Born on the Fourth of July whatsoever because he was neither homeless, nor disabled, nor impoverished, nor a drifter encountering police mistreatment due to a lack of a place to stay or a safety network. His affluent background luckily saved for from most things disenfranchised returning veterans suffered so the genuine impact of First Blood and the subsequent sequels might've been a tiny bit lost on him and the only reason he might've liked it is because of John who legitimately found himself in that movie as it came out, seeing as how was indeed everything from homeless to something of a willful drifter. But while Terry doesn't see himself in the social message of the movie (not really, perhaps only when he's playing a character within a character and pretending to be poor, working class and hard done by, lifting ideas from the movie itself on how to garner empathy even further) the only part that genuinely titillates him in a profound sense is the scene where Rambo hunts the police officers and the Sheriff in the forest. Now, that scene re-wired his brain the minute he saw it and that's about all you need to know about that. Since the question was originally about how Terry would react if he found beloved ever watching any of these, this is the one scene he'd want to re-enact with them. Actually, scratch that, he'd want to re-enact every movie in it's full duration with beloved, but that scene in particular. Someone ends up being hunted through the woods, that's for sure.

― Terry Silver thinks Heaven and Earth by Oliver Stone is saccharine, overdramatic nonsense and John Kreese thinks the same and they think this in the early 90's when, for all intents and purposes, they wouldn't even be on speaking terms anymore and yet they somehow come to the same conclusion like they're thinking with one brain.

― Good Morning Vietnam? Terry doesn't find it tremendously funny. Neither does John. They both know for a fact that if Ponytail was still alive and if he lived long enough that he could see it, he'd fall out of his chair laughing with how funny he'd think it is and maybe that's precisely why they can't be amused by the film.

― Green Berets with John Wayne from 1968? A movie about Vietnam made while Vietnam was still actively going on bigtime? I feel this is one of the war movies Terry and John might've watched while they were in the war themselves as something, say, mandatory Captain Turner made their squad collectively see to raise their patriotism and morale and so they wouldn't forget what homegrown stars and ideals look and sound like or simply something they all willingly saw during R&R (rest and recouperation) on leave --- by extension, this could've been, harrowingly enough the only movie John and Terry ever watched with Ponytail. The first and the last one.

[gmggmgracielasblog]

Este día estoy buscando en la caja de los recuerdos los rasgos de un rostro que no llega a un cálido corazón que abrazó mi tristeza y una tierna palma que secó mis lágrimas. Este día se siente extraño como si mi corazón no tuviera hogar y mi alma anhela un hogar que me ame donde el sol brilla en los callejones, las ventanas frente al sol en los ojos en la mañana y mi café me hace recordar todo a los recuerdos con amor que solo se puede vivir con el alma☺️☕👋🏼✌🏼🪻 GMG ✍🏼🌹❤️

This day I'm searching in the box of memories for the features of a face that doesn't reach a warm heart that embraced my sadness and a tender palm that dried my tears. This day feels strange as if my heart has no home and my soul yearns for a home that loves me where the sun shines on the alleys, the windows face the sun in the eyes in the morning and my coffee makes me remember everything to the memories with love that can only be lived with the soul.☺️👋🏼✌🏼☕🪻 GMG ✍🏼🌹❤️

هذا اليوم أبحث في صندوق الذكريات عن ملامح وجه لا تصل إلى قلب دافئ احتضن حزني وكف حانية جففت دموعي. هذا اليوم يبدو غريبا وكأن قلبي مشرد وروحي تشتاق لبيت يحبني حيث تشرق الشمس في الأزقة والنوافذ تواجه الشمس في عيني صباحا وقهوتي تجعلني أتذكر كل شي�� بالحب الذي لا يمكن إلا أن أن تعيش مع الروح☺️👋🏼✌🏼🪻☕ GMG ✍🏼🌹❤️

[quitealotofsodapop]

Creo que realmente no sé que aportar al au, más que esperar a que llegue el primer capítulo o que acuerde de algo que me haya pasado por alto. Sabemos que Macaque tubo antojos de alimentos grasosos con el embarazo de MK y ahora tendría antojos de dulces sobretodo de chocolate (mi hermana tenía antojo de chocolate cuando estaba embarazada) pero Wukong sería el que se llevará la palma de antojos asquerosos ¿Helado con chips de durazno y mayonesa? Una delicia!

translated via Google:

"I think I really don't know what to contribute to the au, other than waiting for the first chapter to arrive or for me to remember something I had overlooked. We know that Macaque had cravings for greasy foods with MK's pregnancy and now she would crave sweets especially chocolate (my sister craved chocolate when she was pregnant) but Wukong would be the one who takes the cake for disgusting cravings. Ice cream with chips? Peach and mayonnaise? A delight!"

No problem! I keep getting distracted whilst trying to decide certain plot points of the story.

But yes, Wukong is the one of the two to do gross food combinations when he gets cravings. Dipping salty potato fries into chocolate ice cream, drinking straight pickle brine, trying to eat peaches with any combo so he can enjoy them again.

Macaque thinks it's disgusting, but will still steal bites of whatever Wukong has concocted out of curiousity.

Pigsy is horrified by what what the two come up with using his kitchen. Especially after Wukong managed to create a cinnamon and sugar noodle bowl thats somehow popular??

[sloshed-cinema]

Mission: Impossible (1996)

Living in a post Mission: Impossible - Dead Reckoning, Part 1 world, it is absolutely wild how even with a helicopter chase through the Chunnel just how quaint this film is by comparison to where the franchise catapulted itself. Even by several films later Ethan Hunt was climbing the Burj Khalifa or clinging to the side of an airplane to appease Tom Cruise’s ever stronger death wish. To that end, it’s amusing just how far this has diverged in comparison to a fellow franchise that has managed to put out even more films in a relatively shorter period of time, The Fast and the Furious. Both have exploded in terms of budgets and scope of action. They both trot the globe more, exploring exotic locales because it makes for interesting variety. Both feature a growing cast of lovable repertory players and plenty of Ladies Getting It Done. And the stakes of what is at hand should our heroes fail have become nothing short of apocalyptic: IMF must stop a devastating AI in Dead Reckoning, and in X Dom must… well, I don’t really remember, but it’s about family and Jason Momoa being crazy. But while they’ve been on a similar trajectory in terms of scale, Mission: Impossible has elevated itself to the pinnacle of prestige blockbuster territory whereas The Fast and the Furious is pure action schlock. Both franchises serve to fuel the egos of their respective frontmen, showing that they’re the Coolest Dude Ever. But Tom Cruise simply runs circles around Vin Diesel in terms of the overall impact of the film.

Here at the beginning of it all (aside of course from the TV series which inspired it), Brian De Palma takes an elegant approach to his set pieces. Everything for the plan is laid out immaculately in brief beforehand, informing the viewer of the stakes and planting seeds as to what could go wrong. What are the weak points, the things left to chance? While the opening embassy job is fraught with tense beats and allows for perhaps the most graphic moment in the franchise—Jack Harmon’s elevator death is quite shocking—it’s obviously the Langley NOC list heist which is the film’s pièce de résistance. Conducted in more or less perfect silence, each moment layers on a new moment for everything to fail. Will the rat cause Franz to drop Ethan? What about that sweat droplet clinging to Ethan’s glasses? Will the CIA technician overcome his nausea too quickly? Hell, will the technician even look up when Ethan is dangling just feet over his head, or notice him in the reflective surface of the floor? It’s all a house of cards balancing on the edge of a knife, and all the more satisfying to see it pulled off (even if they leave that knife behind). Sure, the final Chunnel chase is pretty cheesy and shows its age. But it lays track for higher highs to come.

THE RULES

SIP

Someone says 'NOC List' or 'operation'.

Cut to surveillance camera.

Tom Cruise starts RUNNING.

Max is name-dropped.

BIG DRINK

Someone pulls off a disguise mask.

We travel to a new location.

[beauty-and-passion]

Sanremo 2024: the songs made me do it

aka: Don’t tell me this will become a new format

There is a sad truth I have to share with you all: I don’t watch Sanremo. I know it’s unhinged and funny and every year there is a new debate about something stupid and a lot of homoerotic tension everywhere. But I don’t have the strength to stay awake until 3am, waiting for all songs and listening to covers and watching 200 interludes until morning. I am getting old, I can’t stay awake that long anymore XD

But my father and my brother both watch Sanremo and, since this year has been particularly appreciated and followed by a ton of people, they decided I had to listen to some of the songs.

So I listened to some of them, especially the top 5. And wow, they are better than I thought. It’s been quite some time since I followed some Italian music and it looks like a lot of things improved in the meantime.

Hence why I decided to give a try to all the 30 songs of this year’s competition. It was worth it: there are definitely some interesting ones. And a few artists made me re-evaluate my opinion about “veteran” singers too.

But while I was listening to all of this, I was also thinking: man, it’s a shame the rest of the world will never know about them. Some are forgettable, fine, but some are good. They deserve a chance to be heard and appreciated.

And this is when a dangerous idea popped into my mind: what if, instead of listening to all of these songs by myself, I share my opinion about them in a post? It would be a bit like my yearly “first impression post” about the Eurovision songs, only applied to Sanremo’s songs.

And hey, maybe this will become a new format. A sort of anticipation of every year’s Eurovision. After all, Sanremo came before Eurovision, so it would make sense, in a way, to talk about Sanremo first.

But that’s up to you. If you think it would be fun, if you’re interested in listening to more Italian songs, or even if you just want to read more of me rambling about stuff, let me know and I will gladly provide it.

______________________________

The overall impression

It’s quite positive. Sure, it could be because I’m Italian and I’m biased, but I swear I’m doing my best to be as objective as possible.

Also, an overall positive impression doesn’t mean all songs are bangers. They are just generally “good”. You can listen to them once or twice, but they’re not a new, groundbreaking experience: they are just okay. And you will read these words again regarding a lot of the songs on this list.

Speaking of the songs themselves, HERE you can find the full playlist.

Please notice that the order of the songs is the same as the final chart. So, since I do not want to spoil you the winner immediately, I will go in reverse order, starting from the last song up to the first. Don’t worry, there is some interesting stuff in the middle, we won’t get bored ;)

As always, this is my opinion, yadda yadda. If you disagree, good for you. We’re just talking about songs after all.

______________________________

Fred De Palma - IL CIELO NON CI VUOLE

I have no idea who this guy is and the song is acceptable: nothing too groundbreaking, nothing too bad. It’s just a typical dance song.

However, I would still keep an eye on him, because there’s this long tradition of singers who got last place, but ended up having incredibly long careers and becoming way more famous than the winners.

So who knows? Maybe Fred De Palma will be the next on the list.

Vote: maybe he will improve and become famous

__________

sangiovanni - finiscimi

Another very normal, very typical dance song. I listened to it twice, but I don’t remember a single thing. Next.

Vote: forgettable

__________

bnkr44 - GOVERNO PUNK

That’s a nice song. Again: nothing too special, but at least I remember the chorus.

Also, there are a lot of other songs that got a higher rank and bored me way faster than this one.

Vote: +1 for the chorus

__________

LA SAD - AUTODISTRUTTIVO

And suddenly, I’m a teen again. The rhythm, the lyrics, the punk, they all speak of the 2000s.

My inner teenager is singing along and loves all of this.

Vote: these guys have been inspired by Blink-182. Now I understand why they remind me so much of my adolescence.

__________

Maninni - SPETTACOLARE

Another typical love song. And it came before La Sad.

Now I’m the sad one.

Vote: even more forgettable

__________

Renga Nek - Pazzo di te

Small premise: Renga and Nek have both been around for a very long time and, as far as I know, they never made a collab together.

But while I’ve never been particularly interested in Renga’s music, Nek has a special place in my heart. Why? Because he’s my favorite Italian singer. I listened to his songs when I was a child first, then during my adolescence. After almost 20 years, I still love them and I still remember the lyrics. So I was waiting for another great song to add to my playlist.

But this song is nothing. It’s not interesting, it’s not new, it’s not a bop. It’s just a generic song about love.

What a huge disappointment, coming from two artists like them. They’ve been around for a lot of time, they should know it’s time to change. But nope, it’s as if they’re still stuck in the past, thinking that playing a song identical to what they made before will surely be appreciated.

But it’s not. The music scene changed, I changed. And this stuff is old.

Considering that we will see older artists with much more interesting songs, these two really have no excuse for this. It is just plain laziness.

Vote: listen to Le cose da difendere, instead. Or Contromano. Or L’inquietudine. They’re much better than this.

__________

CLARA - DIAMANTI GREZZI

This girl won Sanremo Giovani (the edition for younger singers) and I can understand why: she has a lot of voice and she’s a nice singer. The lyric isn’t the most original thing ever, but I like it and I think a lot of younger people can relate to it. It’s very nice and it doesn’t deserve such a low rank.

Vote: “kissing with the tongue/ is so scary”? Uuuh… I suppose young people relate to that? :/

__________

Rose Villain - CLICK BOOM!

This song is just… meh. Despite having two different rhythms, I don’t feel engaged by either of them.

Vote: and the lyrics aren’t great either

__________

BigMama - La rabbia non ti basta

1) The style, the eyes, the nails. This gal is a queen, she slays hard and I approve.

2) The song is about violence, dreams, protecting your inner child, yourself or even your past self from a past of abuse. It’s powerful and I approve.

3) The rhythm might not be the most groundbreaking thing ever, but it goes well with the song and I approve.

4) She’s great and I want to hear more songs from her.

Vote: Approved

__________

Ricchi E Poveri - Ma non tutta la vita

Ricchi e Poveri have been going around since 1967. My mother listened to them. They started as a quartet, then became two, then one of them died and now, these are the last two members left, both in their 70s.

And despite that, these two are amazing.

Their voices are still great, their song is a bop, their energy is incredible. They are much, much better than a lot of these younger singers and I would’ve never imagined that goddamn Ricchi e Poveri would sing one of my favorite songs of this year.

Sure, the ghost of Raffaella Carrà possessed this song, considering the rhythm reminds me of her famous songs, but you know what? It works well. It’s good.

And the lyrics are good too. Even if this is a romantic song, it’s also a song about wanting your own freedom: but instead of stating it loudly, it softly hints at it (“You know I’ll wait for you / but not for all of my life”). It’s nice, it’s cute, I love it.

They do not deserve this position in the final chart, so I blame people thinking they were too old to participate. I thought the same and I repent.

Vote: I wish to have at least 10% of their energy

__________

Dargen D'Amico - Onda Alta

If you don’t think this song is perfect dancing material, you’re lying.

But also consider: the lyric is about immigrants, so this song isn’t just a bop, but it’s meaningful too.

Vote: good job, my boy

__________

Negramaro - Ricominciamo tutto

Honestly, never really cared about Negramaro’s songs and this one adds to the pile.

Vote: try again next time

__________

SANTI FRANCESI - l'amore in bocca

These guys and Negramaro have a higher rank than Ricchi e Poveri. The disrespect. The ignominy.

Vote: this song is a bit better than Negramaro’s song, fine, but it’s also… just okay.

__________

Mr.Rain - DUE ALTALENE

Is… he singing with Autotune? I’m not really a fan of it because I want to hear what you can do, not what the software can do to make you sound better.

But okay, maybe it’s part of how he wanted this song, I can accept it. But still, not a fan of the song: too boring.

Vote: Next

__________

The Kolors - UN RAGAZZO UNA RAGAZZA

The music video screams ‘80s, the song screams ‘80s as well. And, like every 80s song, the chorus is extremely catchy: so catchy that, after the second listening, I was still singing it.

Curse you, catchy rhythm and catchy song that will definitely become a summer hit.

Vote: “a boy meets a girl / lips on the lips / who guess what will happen”. Jeez, wow, a real mystery.

__________

Fiorella Mannoia - Mariposa

She’s another of those veteran singers (69 years old). And, once again, she slays harder than a lot of the younger artists.

I listened to this song once and fell in love immediately. The lyrics are beautiful: HERE you can read the English translation and I highly suggest it, because the song is full of beautiful images and harmonies.

But that’s not just the lyrics, it’s how she sings it. And she sings it with passion and pride. It wouldn’t be as effective, sung by a younger, softer voice: this songs needs a powerful, deep voice and Fiorella is perfect for it.

Vote: it deserves everything.

__________

Emma - APNEA

Look me in the eye, then explain how this comes before Fiorella Mannoia.

You can listen to this song on every radio everywhere: it’s not original, not funny and the lyrics are meh.

Also, couldn’t she find a way to fit the word “apnea” better? To me, it looks like she suddenly remembered and put it at the end of the verse (“you take my breath away/apnea”). I don’t know, it gives me the idea she hasn’t thought too much about it.

Vote: I couldn’t listen to this song more than twice - and the second time I was fed up already

__________

Diodato - Ti muovi

Apologies to all of his fans, but I never loved Diodato’s songs. Even when I won, I asked myself why: what do people find in this guy? Why do they love his songs so much?

Personally, I find this extremely boring.

Vote: this came before Fiorella Mannoia. The utter disrespect.

__________

Il Tre - FRAGILI

This song is La Sad without the punk. And I’ve always preferred the punk over this stuff.

Vote: punk > this

__________

Gazzelle - Tutto Qui

This song was so utterly boring, I barely managed to do a full listening.

Vote: how did these people get such high places in the final rank?!

__________

ALFA - Vai!

I don’t know who this guy is, but I LOVE his song. Good vibes, a carefree rhythm and a great message about living your life to the fullest. It makes me want to go out and explore new things. I want it as the theme song for every summer and every time I visit a new place.

Give this boy a chance, you might find your next happy song.

Vote: thank you for the happy vibes

__________

Alessandra Amoroso - Fino a qui

And here it is: the only song of the entire list that was so devastatingly boring, I didn’t even manage to finish one full listening.

Vote: Sorry Alessandra, but this is really bad. It doesn’t deserve the top 10.

__________

Il Volo - Capolavoro

Guys, your voices are still good, but this song is very VERY boring. And the lyrics are boring too.

Also, what the fuck does it even mean “you fall from the sky like a masterpiece”?! Every time I listen to it, I keep imagining paintings falling from the sky and I’m too perplexed and conflicted and also frustrated because this song is booooring.

Vote: you fall from the sky like a huge question mark

__________

Loredana Bertè - Pazza

Loredana is another veteran. She’s 73 and yet, look at her: way younger than the youngest singers. She has an attitude, she’s sassy, she’s confident. We all stan her.

Also, her song is about loving yourself and learning how to love yourself. And I’m pretty sure that this song, sung by a different voice, wouldn’t be so powerful. It needs such a powerful, “scratchy” voice.

Despite that, Loredana only got 7th place. And that’s a problem, because she said she wanted to win, to go to Eurovision and “mess with my ex-husband and the Swedish king”.

So, since this is an extremely valid reason and we all approve of it, I highly suggest the winner take Loredana and bring her to Sweden. She deserves to go around and wreak havoc. I want to see the poor Swedes dealing with her. I want to see her ex-husband quiver in fear. I want to see the Swedish king ask: “who are you and how did you enter my place?”. I want Loredana to take control of Sweden with her sassiness.

Vote: San Marino, you know what you have to do.

__________

Mahmood - TUTA GOLD

This is the reason I wanted to write this post.

Mahmood won two times already and both times he made good songs. He clearly proved he’s a good singer and I’m glad he gets the recognition he deserves.

When I listened to this song for the first time, it gave me chills. It’s interesting, it’s captivating. It’s full of images associated with his life in the suburbs and things he’s probably the only one to understand.

I think he came 6th, only because he won two times already and winning a third time would’ve been too much. But he still deserves all the recognition, so please listen to his song. It’ll be worth it.

Vote: in my final rank, he’s definitely top 3

__________

Irama - Tu no

I have another secret to share: I don’t like Irama’s songs. I know people like him, but I really cannot understand why. He has an interesting voice, sure. And fine, despite being a hugely boring romantic ballad, at least he sings it with passion.

But it’s a lament. Fine, the chorus is okay, but it became okay only after four listenings.

Vote: my brother loves this song and he’s a ballad lover. So I suppose people who love ballads love Irama? That’s how he got 5th place?

__________

Ghali - CASA MIA

A song about equality and against all wars. And not only the lyrics are very clear about it (“with imaginary lines, you bomb a hospital/for a piece of land or for a piece of bread”), but Ghali himself was very clear too, since he said “stop the genocide” right after his performance.

Somehow, a debate started over this. And hear this: it started because the Israeli ambassador got offended and said something like “he shouldn’t use the stage to say this”.

Yes, this is the stupidest thing you will read today and I can’t believe I just wrote it.

But hey, Ghali probably thought it was stupid too, since his reply was something like: “I’m sorry he got offended, what offended him, anyway? That I used my stage to give a message of peace? What should’ve used the stage for instead?” which proves:

he’s an absolute king

he’s much more mature than the supposed adults involved who are way older than him

Now, I know nothing about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and I don’t want to express any opinion about who is “right” or “wrong” here. But if you get offended over something like “stop the genocide”, then you have something to hide. It’s not rocket science, it’s evident.

And considering we can all see how heavy and uncontrollable the Israeli bombardment is, what do they think we should say? That it’s fine, keep going?

Even war has its rules. And bombing everything, especially civilians, isn’t part of them. It doesn’t matter how “right” you are or how wronged you feel: once you hit your enemy like this, you are automatically wrong. It’s as if the Allies exterminated all Germans during WW2: it never happened, because even something awful like war has a limit and a decency.

And if you don’t feel like people should express their opinion about war, then think twice: despite our issues, we still have freedom of speech in Italy. So if an artist wants to express an anti-war idea, they’re free to do it whatever and whenever they want. End of the discussion.

Vote: I bet you all forgot the manatee-looking alien. Yes, there was a manatee-looking alien.

__________

Annalisa - Sinceramente

This song came before Mahmood.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good song. You can dance to it, I danced to it too. It’s catchy, I’m sure it will be a huge hit and I love it. And she’s great too.

But it came before Mahmood.

Vote: can we switch? Mahmood 3rd place and this 6th? Or 5th and move Irama down?

__________

Geolier - I P’ ME, TU P’ TE

You have no idea how curious I was to hear this song.

All I knew about this guy, was that he got 60% from the televoting. More than half of Italy voted for him. Why? Who is he? What kind of song did he ever sing? I needed to listen to it!

And now I did. And, well, it became clear why it got so much attention.

Geolier sings by using the Neapolitan dialect. Except for three lines in the chorus in Italian, the rest of the song is in Neapolitan.

And this is incredibly interesting because the Neapolitan dialect is probably the most well-known dialect here in Italy. I think everyone knows or, at least, understands a bit of it. But even if I can understand it and even if I listened to this song a lot of times already, I still don’t get all the words. And I doubt others fully understand it (except for, well, Neapolitans). It’s a bit of a linguistic challenge, it’s fun.

And yes, I know this song would’ve never been Eurovision material, but imagine. Just imagine this song, on the international stage. The sheer confusion of the rest of the world. I mean, my father thought he was singing “in some weird English dialect from some island” and he spent 50 years in Italy. Just imagine a completely clueless person who knows nothing about Italian dialects.

And this is why you should listen to it and see what you can understand. Come on, give it a try! And even if you don’t understand a thing, at least you will hear a song about a breakup, the end of an abusive relationship and the need to take different ways. Which is still related to the love theme, but at least it talks about a different aspect of it.

Vote: absolutely deserved 2nd place. Maybe even the 1st place, just to witness Europe’s confusion while listening to it.

__________

Angelina Mango - La noia

When I did my first listening to the top 5 songs, my brother made me listen to them in random order. So I listened to Geolier first, then this one.

Geolier is clearly very southern: I mean, he sings in a southern dialect. But then I listened to this woman and not only she has a southern Italian accent, but she also uses a very clear southern rhythm for the song.

So can we consider this year’s Sanremo a victory for south Italy? Definitely. The rhythm is immaculate and yes, I know there are a lot of nice songs from north Italy too, but the south always had that magical, dance-y rhythm and I’m glad it was so well appreciated.

The lyric are very interesting too, because it’s a celebration of boredom. Boredom is essential for growth, it’s part of us and we need to embrace it, because it helps us - and that’s not what she says, but what biology says. We need moments of boredom: to recharge ourselves, to relax, to let new projects and ideas stem from it. We need boredom, just like we need to keep ourselves active.

It’s nice to see a song with a very different theme, with a rhythm that is both new and old, with a great lyric and a good singer. I’m very glad she won: people have great taste and that’s always nice to see that.

Vote: my father (aka the Eurovision prophet) already said she might win Eurovision. Italy’s new victory in less than 30 years? I’m all for it.

[world-cinema-research]

Carrie (1976) Movie Essay

By Aiden McKinney

Carrie (1976) was Stephen King’s first published novel and a year later, was the first of his to be adapted into a film. With the creative direction of Brian De Palma, Carrie brought life back to the horror genre and has become a cult classic. In fact, five years after the release of the film, King complemented the filmmaker's work:

"De Palma's approach to the material was lighter and more deft than my own—and a good deal more artistic ... The book seems clear enough and truthful enough in terms of the characters and their actions, but it lacks the style of De Palma's film. The book attempts to look at the ant farm of high school society dead on; De Palma's examination of this 'High School Confidential' world is more oblique ... and more cutting.” 

The movie stars Sissy Spacek as an overly shy and self conscious high school senior who doesn’t have a friend in the world. In fact, she is an outcast with an overbearing, abusive, mentally unstable, religious fanatic for a mother. Margaret White fears everything is a sin in the eyes of the Lord, especially anything remotely provocative, sexual in nature, or regarding the female anatomy and its physicality. She is so out of touch, that she never taught Carrie about a woman’s menstrual cycle. When Carrie suddenly gets her first period in the shower after P.E. in school, she is absolutely horrified and scared to death. Reaching out to her classmates for help, the girls only laugh at her and throw feminine hygiene products at her. The bullying only gets worse for Carrie, who begins to realize she has telekinetic powers. She can move objects with the power of her mind This, of course, only makes her more of an outcast. To better prepare for the role, Sissy Spacek isolated herself from the rest of the cast during production. “In a 2013 interview with Vulture, co-star P.J. Soles recalled how on "the first or second day, Sissy came over to a group of us, maybe at lunch, I don’t remember, and said, ‘I love you guys, we’re going to have a great shoot, I’m very excited to be working on this. But I just want to let you guys know, I’m going to alienate myself from you. I want to feel that alienation. But I really like you and afterwards we’ll party and we’ll have a great time. But don’t take it personally. I just want to let you know I’m doing it on purpose because I want to get into the part.’ We all really respected her for that, and that made us even more eager and able to be as mean as we could to her, because we knew it was going to help her." (Facts about Carrie- Mental Floss) 

It also makes her mother believe that Carrie is the spawn of the Devil, as she was conceived in a moment of impulsive promiscuity, prior to marriage. Margaret White has a monologue that explains her moment of weakness:

Carrie: It was bad, Mama. They laughed at me. Hold me, Mama. Please hold me.

Margaret White: I should've killed myself when he put it in me. After the first time, before we were married, Ralph promised never again. He promised, and I believed him. But sin never dies. Sin never dies. At first, it was all right. We lived sinlessly. We slept in the same bed, but we never did it. And then, that night, I saw him looking down at me that way. We got down on our knees to pray for strength. I smelled the whiskey on his breath. Then he took me. He took me, with the stink of filthy roadhouse whiskey on his breath, and I liked it. I liked it! With all that dirty touching of his hands all over me. I should've given you to God when you were born, but I was weak and backsliding, and now the Devil has come home. We'll pray.

Carrie: Yes.

Margaret White: We'll pray. We'll pray. We'll pray for the last time. We'll pray.

Youtube Carrie trailer

The movie trailer covers quite a bit of the film, but it also gives a genuine vibe and  creepy feeling of the film. 

Box office

Budget

$1,800,000 (estimated)

Gross US & Canada

$33,800,000

Gross worldwide

$33,801,936

Carrie was a box office success both in numbers and in Academy Award nominations. Nominated for two Academy Awards, one for Best Actress (Spacek) and Best Supporting Actress (Laurie). This is notable, since the horror genre is not ordinarily recognized at the Academies, especially since Saturn Awards launched in 1972 to honor films of science fiction, fantasy and horror.

Original review from Roger Ebert in which he praises director Brian De Palma for creating a horror film that doesn’t rely on the gore and violence of a typical horror film. De Palma focuses on characterization and the reality that Carrie is a teenage girl who everyone can possibly relate to, at least once in their lives.

“I wouldn't want to spoil the movie's climax for you by even hinting at what happens next. Just let me say that "Carrie" is a true horror story. Not a manufactured one, made up of spare parts from old Vincent Price classics, but a real one, in which the horror grows out of the characters themselves.The scariest horror stories -- the ones by M.R. James, Edgar Allan Poe, and Oliver Onions -- are like this. They develop their horrors out of the people they observe. That happens here, too. Does it ever.”

 Roger Ebert Carrie 1976 

Carrie is a conventional film with unconventional technical aspects. There is a central character, Carrie, and she experiences conflict (so much conflict) who has a goal. There are antagonists (so many antagonists) who stand in the way of her goal. The cinematography is unconventional, in the sense that De Palma used unusual camera angles and motions that translate different emotions and feelings in different scenes. For example, at the Prom, Carrie and Tommy are dancing and the camera is spinning around them as they are spinning, creating a sense of euphoria and confusion, at the same time. 

youtube.com Carrie dance scene 

The movie Carrie subscribes to Hofstede’s Cultural Dimension of High Restraint. Carrie is raised by an overly religious mother who controls her and tries to keep Carrie from breaking from her strict upbringing and expressing herself in her own way.

Historical Events

United States - First Space Shuttle

NASA unveils the first space shuttle, the Enterprise.

More Information for the first space shuttle

NASA unveiled the first space shuttle, the Enterprise, to the public during September of 1976. The Enterprise was only a prototype created to conduct test flights and the official launch of the Space Shuttle Program did not occur until April of 1981 with the launch of the Columbia. The Enterprise weighed about 150,000 pounds and cost nearly $10 billion to create. While the first space shuttle never actually made it into space, it did become the first of the space shuttles to fly during a test in the following year after it was unveiled.

Jimmy Carter defeats incumbent Gerald Ford in 1976 Presidential election.

Britannica 1976 Presidential election 

[tina-aumont]

I want to thank my friend @74paris who contacted the Canarian Authorities and sent him these digitalized photos from the exhibit that Garafia and La Palma had about Maria Montez back in 2012 (more than ten years ago!!)

Maria Montez dad, Isidoro Gracia García was born in Garafia (La Palma) in April 3rd 1873 and by 1904 he settled in Barahona (Dominican Republic) with his brother Joaquín. They left Carany Islands due to economic struggles and they dreamt for a better future, which eventualy came.

These photos show Joaquín (left) and Isidoro (right) pictured in Barahona in 1908. Next we can see Isidoro Gracia pictured in Barahona in 1906. Under these two photos, Isidoro is pictured, again in Barahona, this time in 1909 and the last photo shows Joaquín in an undated photo, but my guessing is that it was taken in Barahona as well aroung the time the other photos were taken (1906-1909).

These photos were displayed in "María Montez, de la Palma a Hollywood" exhibition celebrated in Garafia and La Palma during the celebrations of MAría Montez birthday centenary.

Joaquín Gracia Anadón, who was born in Estercuel (Teruel-Aragón-Spain), in 23rd May 1841 and María Antónia García Martín, who was born in Garafia, (La Palma, Canary Islands) in 28th September 1842 were also remembered in this exhibition.

This beautiful photo taken in 1942 celebrating Doña Justa's birthday was also in the exhibition. Doña Justa Recio Sánchez was María Montez granny and Regla María Teresa Vidal Recio's mother. In this photo we can see at the left Adita with her mother, and at the right we can see Consuelo. In the front row, at the right we can see a very young Teresita. It's beautiful to see that in this exhibition, also the maternal side of María was important although there were no Canarian roots in them (as far as we know).

María Montez most intimal side was also shown in this exhibition, here we can see her pictured in 1943 at her wedding day to Jean-Pierre Aumont.

While Jean-Pierre Aumont was away fighting in II World War and María was at the highest point of her career, she invited her sisters to Hollywood as she wanted them to have a successful career. Although all of them tried, only Teresita (not shown here as she was still very young) succeed but as a High Couture model working in France in the 50s hired exclusively by Vogue magazine.

These photos are from the banners displayed in "María Montez, de la Palma a Hollywood" exhibition held in La Laguna, Tenerife (Canary Islands) in 2012, they show María's family, sisters, daughter Tina and places where her family came from. These photos come from this blog: Personalidades Garafianas

These screencaps from this video show two banners from the exhibition "María Montez: De La Palma a Hollywood" with Maria Montez and Jean Pierre Aumont and Maria's dad Isidoro, her granny María Antónia and on the left Isidoro and his brother Joaquín.

The other screencaps show Joaquín Gracia and María Antónia García's home in Garafia where Isidoro, Joaquín and their siblings were born.

This house is still standing, now I wonder... could a María Montez museum will be made here and be permanent so everybody could visit it? I vote for it, but I don't know if it will ever me made, it would be beautiful if ever that happen...

Here you have the Villa de Garafia website where is explained the exhibition.

Photos shown here are courtesy of Armando Gracia Sanfiel, the Spanish cousin María was always writing. He gave these photos to Antonio Perez Arnay to be published in his book "María Montez La Reina del Tecnicolor" (Filmoteca Canaria, 1995).

Banners courtesy of "Cabildo de la Palma", the governing and administrative body of La Palma.

Muchas gracias de nuevo @74paris por todo el trabajo que has hecho contactando con la administración del Cabildo de la Palma para que te enviaran este material tan precioso y muchas gracias por compartirlo conmigo para que lo publique.

[hummingbird-of-light]

random question(s) for ya :)

what's the furthest you've ever traveled?

favorite type of clothing? (dresses, casual, etc)

worst injury you've had? (broken bone, concussion, etc)

if you could bring any fictional character to life for an entire day, who would it be and what would y'all do?

Hey there~

So, I just had to look up which place was the furthest and apparently it's Palma de Mallorca. Though I also visited Italy and Scotland ~

Dresses and skirts. Even though I don't wear them for work, so mostly just at the weekends, I love them! ❤️

It is rumored that I broke my nose as a young teenager, but we can't tell for sure cause I resisted going to the hospital. Worst injury I can remember ... I fell off a tree and landed on the big root and couldn't breathe for a moment.

Argh! This one's hard! I think ... I think ... Scotty! Or Keenser! Or can I get both of them? I'd show them around and we'd go and eat ice cream and watch a movie.