#ENCHANTING YET BLEAK ERA

[mychemicalraymance]

Can you fuckinf imagine meeting this person in 2010 like what would you do with them. I know they had the most insane vibrations coming off them in waves. California weed + fake dick from the hottest woman who was a dyke until she met them (which could mean nothing). Oatmilk lattes at her beck and call. Existential crisis resulting in experimental cuntology. Coke zero on tap. Black swan and inception are in theaters. Warner bros and all tour press completely fucking ignoring the gender slash gay part of this persona in a very glaring way with 15 years of retrospect. The BP oil spill.

[literary-spirit]

Bonnie Bennett believed she'd finally discovered her good enough ending. Yet, like most things in her life good enough goes left and leaves her with another ending. Or, perhaps a fire beginning...Journey with everyone's favorite Bennett Witch to the Viking Era for much needed lessons in devotion, courtesy the Lothbrok brothers.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, none of these characters belong to me. And to add unfairness to poetic injustice, neither does the shows or the books. However, I still intend to pull the characters' strings and make them dance, all while having a ball upsetting canon plot lines!

AN: Alright Bennett Fandom this one here is a bit different from what you're used to. Okay this one here is a bit different than I'm used to. Francesca has recently rediscovered Vikings and with it the sons of Ragnar. And don't you know she wouldn't rest until she brought our favorite Bennett Witch into their mess! As if our girl didn't already have her own problems. SMFH! So thanks to my lovely muse, here we are with a whole lot of trifling savagery that I'm just not so sure about. But as always I'll let you be the judge if this WIP lives to see another update. Flame it or acclaim it in comments.

“You know as much as I’ve savored the joy of tormenting you over the years-,” Klaus began.

“No,” Bonnie shook her head. She’d tried to go along with his final request. Really she did, but how could she? When in the end all he’d be was gone. “I’m sorry, bae. We’re not doing this.”

Rebekah’s eyes rolled. She released a drawn out exhale that hadn’t been necessary for her since wood ash and pointed stick tattoos were a thing. “Bonnie, don’t ruin this for him! Permit him whatever comfort he demands. He shoulders a burden you’d never be able to fathom. Can you not allow him to experience but one moment of grace? A moment Hope will undoubtedly cling to after he’s gone.”

“No, Rebekah! I’m not about to listen as the man I love gives us all a corny goodbye and pretend to be okay with it. And why the hell should Hope have a moment to cling to when she could have her father?” She gave her head another firm shake. “No, this is not okay with me,” her voice rose as she drilled visual holes through each of them. Klaus tried to shut her down with an arm around the shoulders but she curved him with a shrug, all while committing ocular homicide on him in the process. “So why the hell is it okay with you, Hybrid?” Her scorn riddled gaze darted from him back to his so called family. “Or any of you?”

“You must’ve been down on Bourbon sipping on that Absinthe again if you believe any of this shit is okay with us,” Marcel waved her off barely sparing her a glance. “We all just know Klaus is gonna do whatever Klaus wants no matter how any of us feels about it. The most dangerous place you can be when his mind’s made up is in his way. So I suggest you step out of it.”

Her neck snapped back as if she’d taken a two piece to the chin. “You think I’m afraid of the big bad wolf? I wasn’t at seventeen and if I thought for a second it would save him, I’d put his ass back in the dirt again. I take care of my own, Marcel. No matter the dangers or consequences,” she jabbed a thumb at her hybrid, “And make no mistake, that Original pain in the ass over there is mine.”

“Cute.” Marcel laughed as he rubbed at the corners of his mouth. “Bonnie, we’re his family. Each of us have known, feared, hated, respected, and loved him long before even your parents’ parents became an idea. Hell, even after everything he’s dragged me through, there’s not a drop of blood I wouldn’t bleed for him.”

“Then stand behind those words and do something, Marcel,” she pleaded, because at this point she wasn’t above begging for the only bright spot remaining in the dim bleakness that had become her life seven years before.

“What would you have us do, Bonnie?” Elijah questioned in a barely engaged tone.

Bonnie turned to consider him. A perpetual moroseness now cloaked the one she’d once believed to be noble. His arrogance hadn’t been quite the same since the restoration of his memories. More and more he’d begun to remind her of Finn. She squared her shoulders and straightened her spine. Since discovering what Klaus planned to do, she’d toyed with an idea she’d vowed never to indulge. Yet, under the weight of impossible desperation such vows could not stand.

“The eternal witch spell should be evoked,” she said.

“By whom?” Kol questioned. His chocolate browns moved from Freya to Hope. When both appeared to know less than him his disbelieving gawk returned to her. “You?!” Laughter burst from his mouth. “Oh Darling, I’ve witnessed that spell make a supernatural mess of the most talented witches to ever recite a chant. There’s only one destined to master the eternal witch incantation and her sorcery is said to be unmatched.” His knowing gaze drifted to Hope, and then back to her. “There’s no way you’re powerful enough to undertake the task. You’re not even the strongest witch on this block.”

Bonnie flinched. Damn it, if Kol hadn’t DOA’ed her pride. When the hell did he jump on the Bennett hate train? To hear how far his opinion of her plummeted sort of burned.

She nodded. “Okay, if not me why not Davina. You tend to enjoy blowing her horn. If she’s all you claim her to be, get her here. I’ll happily bow down if her being greater than me will save him.” She jerked her head in Klaus’ direction.

“No!” Marcel barked.

“Leave my wife out of this.” Kol zipped across the distance separating them to tower over her. His original face no longer concealed by his human deception.

Klaus rocketed forward to place himself between she and Kol. “Step away from my fiancé, baby brother. For if you harm her then you’ll be joining me in the afterlife. To hell with your bloody dagger and box.”

Ignoring Kol’s and Klaus’ dagger and the box bit, her distressed stare collided with Freya’s. “What about you? Will you help me save your brother?”

“Bonnie, that spell is much too dangerous. Even for me.” The blondes eyes offered her a thousand apologies but not one solution. “I’m sorry, but I can’t risk it…not now.”

Her desperation bottomed out to despair as her gaze took a hail Mary launch to the supposedly most powerful witch in the room. “Hope?”

The room erupted. You’d think she’d offered the girl a crack pipe. When she was Hope’s age she was taking down well…her dad.

“Bonnie!” Elijah yelled.

“This is madness,” Rebekah growled, taking a step in their direction. “Nik tell her!”

“We’ve already talked about this, Bekah.” Marcel shook his head and tugged Rebekah back to his side. “That doesn’t concern us.” Bonnie heard Marcel mutter.

Klaus spun away from Kol to regard her. He grabbed her face and cradled her cheeks in his palms. “Everything’s going to be alright, Love.” He whispered, before brushing his lips against hers. Liquid pain disturbed the stillness of his crystal blue stare and contradicted the hell out of his reassurance.

“How?” She tugged herself free of his grasp. “How’s everything going to be alright? You’ll be dead and then what? Life goes on? Fuck that! I’m not about to stand here and mourn a defeat I haven’t loss yet!” She whirled away and marched from the gathering. Her decision made.

Once out of sight, she hurried towards their bedroom. Inside, she closed the door and locked it. The barrier wouldn’t hold her hybrid, but the fraction of time it would provide may be all she needed to complete the spell. She fell to her knees next to the mattress. Carefully, she tugged the blanket from underneath the bed. The already prepared altar and ingredients slid out. She stared down at the athamae and exhaled. Second thoughts plagued her mental, but she shook them away. She’d come this far already. The time to bitch up and forget about it had come and gone. Now was the time to do and die, literally.

She picked up the dagger and called forth every ounce of mystical energy which bled through her veins. A swell of Bennett sorcery overwhelmed the room. Pictures rattled on the walls. The balcony doors blew open and the glass shattered. Furniture not nailed down whipped about the room like she’d caught a ride in a tornado. Steeling her nerves, she continued. She called forth her psychic energy, her huntress energy. Any and everything supernatural about her she offered to the Goddess of all in exchange for an eternity of knowledge and the fated eternal mate destined to help her defeat the Hollow.

After relinquishing her all to the Creator she sliced open her palm. Blood gushed from the wound and saturated the ingredients. A searing light illuminated the room. The bargain was struck and accepted. Now the sacrifice. She swallowed and raised the blade. Aiming it at the center of her chest, she closed her eyes.

“Bonnie, no!” Klaus’ voice penetrated the white noise blaring throughout the room. “Love, don’t do this. You won’t survive.”

She opened her eyes. He stood just beyond the enchantment circle, attempting to force his way into the barrier. “Neither will you if I don’t. Besides, if it doesn’t work I’d rather be in the ground anyway than breathe without you, Klaus.”

“Bonnie, please,” he pled as he dropped to his knees. He slammed his fist against the barrier. “Please, don’t do this. We’ll find another way. You have my word, Love!”

A sad smile flirted with her lips. “You’re lying, Klaus. If there was another way then it would already be the plan.” She plunged the blade into the cradle of her breasts. A piercing burn penetrated her chest.

“No!” Klaus’ bellow seared layers from her punctured heart. The storm of mystical energy whipping about ceased.

Her knees buckled. Klaus caught her before the ground could and cuddled her close. She attempted to talk, but a wheeze whistled pass her lips instead.

“No, Love, don’t speak.” He bit into his wrist and placed the bleeding extremity to her mouth. His blood might as well had been battery acid because she’d bet dollars to air it burned the same. Hacking coughs damn near shook her frame apart by the joints. “Why the sodding hell isn’t this working?”

“I-It’s the s-spell,” she managed to utter. “M-my death is the p-price of a-admission.”

Tears trickled from his eyes onto her face. “Why did I have to go and love you, Little Witch?” He demanded, looking beyond confused.

“B-Because its what we b-both needed at the time and no m-matter how this turns out I’ll always be indebted to you for giving me a reason. L-Love you, Hybrid…always and f-forever.” His face faded until nothing but darkness surrounded her.

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, none of these characters belong to me. And to add unfairness to poetic injustice, neither does the shows or the books. However, I still intend to pull the characters' strings and make them dance, all while having a ball upsetting canon plot lines!

The abyss gave way to blinding lights. Bonnie squeezed her eyes shut. A cacophony of sounds battered her auditory senses. The eardrum rupturing racket nearly distracted her from the violent rocking motion. A violent rocking motion which would no doubt wrought absolute fuckery on her cyclic vomiting syndrome. Right along with the tang of salt-water, unwashed bodies, and rotten fish. The potpourri of funk came close to singeing the lining of her nostrils.

A familiar acrid burn tickled the back of her throat. On cue her belly spun a series of gold medal winning somersaults. Oh this was going to happen. Her lack of sight heightened her senses and made her that much more sensitive to all the upchuck factors swirling about her. Unable to continue to live in the darkest part of her denial and remain vomit free, she opened her eyes. The brightest day she'd ever had to tolerate greeted her light discriminating gaze. She closed her eyes once more. What in the extreme fuck? Was this some kind of hell dimension? Is that why she was only a five minute drive away from the damn sun? Oh Goddess no!

"Cade?!" She growled.

The acrid burn that flirted with the back of her throat developed a sour chunky consistency. Once again she forced her eyes open...and blinked. She was on a vessel that appeared to have hailed straight out of Vikings. Damning the unnecessary brightness and her afterlife in general, she turned and tossed up the entire contents of her stomach over the boats edge. The seafood gumbo from Rousseau's she loved nearly as much as Klaus shot from her mouth and floated one way while the wind and Hades' cruiser sailed her in another.

As gravity took her down exhaustion fucked her over. She rested her cheek on the boat's wooden ledge. Drops of putrid salt water splashed her face. Yet, her fucks to give was at a negative zero low. Not only was she dead, but more than likely so was Klaus. She'd failed him...she'd failed them. Not even eternity would be long enough to make that shit okay.

Bonnie's vision blurred. Her chest throbbed. She clawed at the pounding ache between her breasts. Goddess, it's a wonder her chest didn't have a gaping hole in it after everything her heart had lost. Shaking her latest failure from her thoughts, she turned to slouch back to the boat's floor. She then lifted her gaze to assess her surroundings. Various shades of irises gawked back at her. She froze. Oh damn! Just her luck the water was sacred. She opened her mouth to offer an apology, but snapped it closed. Wait...why the hell did everyone look like extras from the Last Kingdom?

Slowly, her gaze dropped from the filthy hairy men towering over her to what she wore. The burlap sack dress she donned stopped her ever ticking clock. And based on the breeze cooling her cakes, her La Perla's had opted to skip the journey to the other side. Her back teeth clenched. In what kind of after life had she been dropped? Was this some kind of Viking hell? Had she somehow been granted eternity with Klaus in his hereafter?

The shifting of bodies snaked her attention from Kanye's spring wear to the now parting beefy men. A sight which had her questioning her sanity emerged. Bjorn Lothbrok or at any rate the actor who portrayed him in Vikings. Was he dead and stuck on the Otherside also? Wait, was Alexander Ludwig even supernatural?

"You're not one of the slaves who was captured during the raid. One of your hue, I would've remembered." The head Viking in charge edge that resonated in Bjorn's or Alexander's voice snatched her from her contemplations. "How've you come to be upon this ship?" When she opened her mouth to speak the cold sharpened point of a sword pierced the hollow of her throat. "Speak to me of canards or sagas and I shall open your gullet."

She hesitated for a moment. What could she say? The truth would definitely get her neck split wide. "I-I'm not sure. Before...when I closed my eyes, I was somewhere else and now that I've opened them, I'm..." she glanced from the horror frozen faces of the crewmen to the beyond frightened slaves. The poor shackled souls huddled away from her in the ship crevices and corners on either side of her. She swallowed and allowed her gaze to return to Bjorn. "I'm here."

"Oh my god," she heard one of the slaves mutter in a tone that, to her surprise, sounded annoyed?

His scoff sliced the disbelief inspired silence in half. He withdrew the biting tip of his sword from her throat and sheathed it in the scabbard at his side. "Bind her hands to her feet and toss her over."

The ship erupted in a flurry of movement. Two overfed red-haired and even redder faced Viking men moved to grab her. She nearly projectile vomited her heart from her mouth.

"I know what I'm saying sounds apeshit, but I swear on everything I love, Alexander," she said slowly uttering the name and searching his face for a flare of recognition. When nothing sparked in his expression she stammered on, "I-I'm telling the truth. Please, you have to believe me, Bjorn!" A flicker of curiosity narrowed his glare. Bingo! "You can't let them kill me! Please, I don't wanna die again!"

"Halt!" He bellowed, raising a hand to stop the men from advancing, "How've you come to know of my name?"

Shit! She pressed her lips together as her mind flipped through a too short list of plausible explanations that wouldn't get her burned at a stake for witchcraft. "I-I've dreamt of you a-and of this moment." There, that didn't sound too bad. One thing she'd learned from Klaus, watching Vikings, and Google, is ancient Northman actually revered oracles and seers.

"You've dreamt of me?" He knelt before her, arresting her stare with a penetratingly incandescent blue gaze. At a deliberate methodical pace, his eyes crept over her face. Her lungs threatened to collapse under the thorough scrutiny. "Of this moment?" Unable to look anywhere other than in the irises that burned brighter than the now blazing sun, her head bobbed. A smile enticed the corners of his mouth. "Then why fear what you know will follow? Have you not prepared well to meet your fate?"

"Not if my fate resides at the bottom of the ocean," she said with a firm shake of the head, "That's an introduction I'd like to cur—avoid indefinitely."

His head tilted just so as he continued to regard her. "Name yourself."

"Bonnie Bennett," she answered.

A golden brow lifted. "Bonnie Bennett of where?"

"New-M-Mystic Falls...Bonnie Bennett of Mystic Falls."

"I have never heard of a land with such a name," he huddled a bit closer to her, "in which direction does your homeland lie?"

Before she could answer, thick gun metal gray clouds rolled across the azure sky and swallowed the glaring sun. A sonic boom exploded somewhere in the distance, while blue streaks of lightening zigzagged its way through the stodgy swirls of gloom. And if the situation wasn't already atom splitting serious, fat drops of rain and hail the size of golf balls began to pelt them.

"This storm is unnatural!" A seaman yelled.

"What in the name of Odin will become of us? None of us shall discover the gates of Valhalla at the bottom of the sea!" A ruddy face old man with a scraggly beard roared at anyone who appeared to be listening.

Another much younger seaman, maybe a little older than herself, turned an anxious stare on Bjorn. "Do you believe the All Father has forsaken us, Ironside?"

Bjorn opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by a blonde slave girl who pointed a finger in her direction, "It's her! Her very presence displeases the gods. You should heave her over and pray the sacrifice appeases them."

"You sound dumb as hell! It's no wonder you're in chains," Bonnie snapped, regretting her words as soon as they left her lips. Stupidity had nothing to do with forced captivity. Yet, that bitch had some damn nerve.

"No one will be heaving anyone over," Bjorn said, while standing from his crouch, "Raise the sails and provide the slaves with pails so they may began dumping water from the ship's floor."

A surge of magic thickened the air. The foreign sorcery incited something within her. Something unfamiliar. A bucket was pushed in her face. She took the wooden pail without looking away from the sea. The very stench of alien witchery agitated her own strange mystical energy. The fiery heat of her somehow altered super charged power practically scorched the inner lining of her veins as it raced through her vessels. Who would dare interrupt the supernatural and natural balance on this scale without justification? It was like using a heat seeking missile to take out a mosquito. Un-fucking-called for!

Instead of allowing the now aggressive powers within her the retribution it sought, she settled just to keep the occupants on the ship safe. So, while she dumped water from the boat's floor, she chanted under her breath. Soon, a protective shield formed around them in an elusive form of the previous sunny day. The Vikings and slaves alike erupted in praises to Odin.

"Yep," Bonnie forced a smile. "Praise Odin!"

"Come, Mystical One," Bjorn stood over her, his shadow casting her much needed shade.

Distrust and her impromptu guest starring role on a show which highlighted the fact that Vikings had no problems raping captives, raised her guards. Though realms out of her element, she was far from ignorant.

Her gaze moved over him in an attempt to size him up. "Where?"

"To the prow," He gestured towards the front of the ship before snatching the pail from her hands, and then tossing it aside. "I wish to learn more about you and this numinous land named Mystic Falls." When she took too long to follow he locked his hands behind his back and considered her. "If I wanted to lie with you then all I need do is have you. Do you believe anyone here would be minded to protect you?"

She lifted her chin as she glanced about the ship to see not one person watching them for concern purposes. Every eye she caught on them looked to be pre-historic Shade Room and TMZ reporters. If they had tea kettles back then they'd no doubt be ready to spill the damn things. No, Bjorn spoke the truth. No one on that confoundingly long boat would lift a calloused palm to help her.

"Alright." Exhaling, she stood and leveled him with a glare even a PMS'ing demon would be incapable of exacting. "But fair warning, no one on this ship can protect me better than me. And make no mistake, I'm not above defending my own honor."

He reached out and took her hand in his. "That is a certainty about you of which I'll never be mistaken, Bonnie Bennett of Mystic Falls."

[nerdgatehobbit]

Time for an update- not just blog stuff this time (but blog stuff first). The latest batch of reviews have been written but not scheduled yet.

I’ve written up the 4th COTRK post; I am reawakening my love of this series. Looking back, I think this series might have been the strongest influence on my fiction writing, both fan & original. Well, this series & Enchanted Forest Chronicles.

Pokémon-wise, I’ve written 9 reviews for Sun & Moon, which continues to be a delight. It is so fluffy but it takes the Pokémon world seriously, which is a great combination.

I finally wrote up the review for “The Enemy Within” so I can head towards the end of PRIS. It’s hard to believe I’m nearing the end of the Zordon-era, as my first MMPR post went up on 8/28/15. That’s right; I’ve been working on these reviews for a half-decade now.

... There hasn’t been any progress on XWP nor The Flash yet, but I am planning to watch the seventh & second episodes respectively later this week. I need to rewatch the fourth episode of JCA because I waited too long to write up my thoughts on it. That won’t be a hardship, especially given how jam-packed & energetic it was.

I need to schedule the 2nd post on Farscape’s 3rd season, especially as I’m now 1 episode away from being done with the third disc. The halfway point of the season, “Incubator”, was utterly terrifying: well-written, but yikes. That sentiment warrants repeating. The following episodes were marginally less bleak. “Scratch ‘n Sniff” might have been darker, actually, but hid it under goofiness.

I watched TCW’s “Assassin” tonight, which I really enjoyed. Once I write up my thoughts on it, the 13th post can be scheduled. I’m nearly halfway through the boxed set & I love the show so far.

Okay, time to shift topics. I doubt anybody noticed, but my presence has been more sporadic recently due to brick space reasons (nothing bad, just busier). That means I will most likely respond less quickly than in the past, but I will try to check in daily.

To hopefully limit confusion, I’m going to start using a queue tag (or at least I will do my best to do so). I’ve settled on “in which there is a queue” as a shout-out to the Enchanted Forest Chronicles chapter titles. Worst-case scenario, there’ll be a daily McKay pic until early (edited after I learned the truth) late October and a weekly Beckett pic for the rest of 2020.

Note to self: find a bunch of Daniel Jackson photos to add to the queue too.

[warlockfemale]

Silver Screen Films: Minorities  or LGBTQ Edition

Because while I adore old films I also know that they sometimes have horrible, horrible outdated thoughts on race and the LGBTQ community. And yes they will have messages that are kinda racist now. Warnings are not going to include that because it’s gonna be a given. Silent Films: 

 Within Our Gates: 1920. Black drama (kinda melodramaish) Warnings for lynching and attempted rape/talked about rape. 

  The Symbol of the Unconquered: Silent, black, western film. Warnings for KKK and threats of sexual violence. The Daughter of Dawn: Silent film with a 100% Native American cast. Thought lost until it was found in around 2007. 2013 finally shown again. Have yet to see it so don’t know what warnings to place.

Honorable/Dishonorable mention: Broken Blossoms. Silent film about a Chinese man (played by a white guy) who goes to London to spread the Buddhist faith. Honestly racist and lots of problems with it but I’m putting it here because it’s one of the very, very few films that showed an Asian man as a 100% good person who tries to help an abused child (who later on gets beaten to death by her father) and was a reaction to the sudden surge of anti-Chinese groups appearing in the USA. Warnings: Look it’s a super bleak film about racism, child abuse, alcoholism, depression, and drug use. 

Different from the Others:1919 LGBTQ film, considered the very first pro-homosexual film ever made and Nazis hated it so much they tried to destroy the film but failed. Warnings: Suicide, blackmail. 

Michael: 1924 silent film. Almost all of the main characters are gay or bisexual, though bisexual is also the asshat of the film and the only named woman is the villian.   A Florida Enchantment: 1914 film about a woman who takes enchanted seeds that change gender. Thought to be first film showing bisexuality and transgender roles. Warnings: Super, super blackface. Like not even sure how it was ok even for that time period that is how blackface it is.

Talkies:

Pinky: 1949 drama film about a white passing black woman. Though the actress was in fact white the story line really dives into the race relations of the era (also pretty sure that they had to cast a white woman in part because they can’t have a actual black woman in a romance with a white dude.) Film still got in trouble because ewwww black and white people together and the film showing that white people are racist in the south? And it showed the town in a bad light about being super racist? Went to the supreme court who said that the film was protected by the first amendment and the south had to suck it up.

Lying Lips: 1939 black crime/thriller film. Have not seen it but I keep being told I should. 1940s Green Hornet Serial: Notable for having an actual Asian-American playing Kato who talks like a normal human. Well as much of an normal human as everyone else in it. Again not really “great” but seriously finding films with Asian-Americans that don’t show them as savages in this time was hard. Though poor Keye Luke (Japanese) got billed as Korean, then Filipino due to WW2. 

Harlem on the Prairie/Two-Gun Man from Harlem: 1930s All black cowboy films made by the same man. First is also a musical and as far as I can recall both are rather light hearted.  Glen or Glenda: 1953 Ed Wood film about cross-dressing written and directed by a cross-dresser. It is also one of the few in which the person gets to have a happy ending and not kill themselves or sacrifice themselves for somebody else. Warnings: It’s a badly made film with a lot of added random sex to keep butts in the seats. Suicide.  Honestly there are also a lot of non-white actors in films that were rather racist. However they still got billed as leads or lead villains and got paid which was considered a win for the time. Might make another post for that.

[innis9]

Actor and director-in Irish style.

 Ciaran Hinds and Conor McPherson.

Their cooperation has been going on for many years and is very interesting and original.

Conor McPherson  was born in Dublin and educated at University College, where he began writing his first plays as a member of the drama society. His plays have received Olivier and Tony Award nominations, while he also works as a sometime screenwriter and director. In 2004 the Telegraph newspaper named him ‘the finest dramatist of his generation’ while, over in America, the New York Times agreed, naming him ‘the finest playwright of his generation’ in 2000.

McPherson started writing in his teens, not long after he turned his back on religion. The only son of a middle-class Dublin family (he has two sisters, older and younger), he went to a strict Catholic school where, until the age of nine, he was regularly beaten for his sins.

Currently, he says, he writes from the standpoint that "human beings are animals: 90% of our behaviour is animal behaviour, and we've just got this 10% veneer, the semblance of civilised, rational choice. Our thoughts are always trailing around after our appetites, justifying them with language: it's tragic and it's hilarious. That's the picture I put together in my plays: of the animals who can talk, and think because of that they know everything."

“Human beings are animals” (The Guardian, Wed13, Sep 2006)

 The Seafarer (2007).

McPherson is trying to make a case for the mysterious—the little miracles of love and wonder and personal redemption that Lockhart’s nihilism won’t allow. 

An elegant stranger, Mr. Lockhart (Ciarán Hinds), is brought by a friend to join in the house’s Christmas festivities: a game of poker. In a trilby and an expensive coat and suit, Lockhart is not just a big spender but the Devil in disguise.

The Birds (2009)

The next show -- a stage version of Daphne Du Maurier's The Birds.

Instead, what remains is a chilling, atmospheric, somewhat enchanting horror story about the end of the world and the lengths people will go to  protect themselves and those they care about.

The Eclipse (2009)

Film based on a collaboration between Irish playwrights Billy Roche and Conor McPherson, had its premiere at the Tribeca Film Festival. McPherson, adapted the screenplay from a short story originally written by Roche, adding his own trademark supernatural elements and also directing the finished script.

https://drive.google.com/open?id=1xtlI18uEdiqPDpJQgzpH7aePQvNcy7co

The Night Alive (2013)

Conor McPherson’s new play – The Night Alive at the Donmar Warehouse – is a skewed love story played in a minor key. The creeping sense of quiet alongside the grubby set and dim lighting create a mesmerising intimacy that sucks the audience in the way a black hole sucks in the matter all around it.

Girl  from the North Country(2017)

 Conor McPherson has written and directed a play incorporating 20 diverse songs by Bob Dylan. Set in Dylan’s home town of Duluth, Minnesota, in 1934, the piece uses the songs to reinforce the mood of desperation and yearning that characterised America in the Depression era.

Here, that is located in a run‐down guesthouse where everyone is staring into a bleak future. Nick, the owner, has to deal with crushing debt, a wife with dementia, a layabout son, and he is trying to marry off an adopted, pregnant, black daughter to an elderly shoe salesman. His guests include a ruined family, a fugitive boxer, a blackmailing preacher‐cum‐Bible salesman and Nick’s lover, who is awaiting a legacy that fails to mature. Yet for all their failures they still manage, gloriously, to sing.

More information-HERE http://www.ciaranhinds.eu/index.php

[occultspirits-blog]

Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven” influenced Modern Art, here’s how.

Hi all and welcome to Spirit’s blog. Today I wanted to discuss one of my favorite poems, “The Raven” by Edgar Allan Poe. This poem is a Romanticism literature piece, that has a talking bird, sorrow, loss, and a bit of delirium. If you have never read it in it’s entirety, keep reading, and if you have and love it like me, well enjoy.

The Raven, by Edgar Allan Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore —

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door —

Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow; — vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore —

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore —

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door —

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; —

This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you” — here I opened wide the door; —

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!” —

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore —

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; —

’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door —

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door —

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore —

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door —

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing farther then he uttered — not a feather then he fluttered —

Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before —

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”

Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore —

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

Of ‘Never — nevermore’.”

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore —

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee — by these angels he hath sent thee

Respite — respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil! — prophet still, if bird or devil! —

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted —

On this home by Horror haunted — tell me truly, I implore —

Is there — is there balm in Gilead? — tell me — tell me, I implore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil! — prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us — by that God we both adore —

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore —

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting —

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken! — quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted — nevermore!

Now that we are all on the same “page” 😉. Edgar Allan Poe was an American author, editor and literary critic. He was born in Boston,MA, on January 19, 1809. He wrote “ The Raven” in January of 1845, and it was instantly popular. He was one of the first writers to ever make a living wage as a writer. He published many short stories and poems in his life. He was also a major contributor of bringing Romanticism to the United States.

For those who do not know Romanticism was an art movement that started in Europe in the 18th century. It focused on emotion in art and individuality of man. There is also connection to the scientific advancements of that time pertaining to nature. There was special attention to the emotions of fear, shock, awe and apprehension, before this time period there was mostly only religious figures and artifacts as art. This was the time for man and all his inner workings to be in the “lime light”.

This time period saw many talented artists across all forms of medium. For example: William Blake (poet/painter), Francisco Goya (painter), Eugene Delacroix (painter), J.M. W. Turner (painter), Edgar Allan Poe (author) and many others. These artists were pioneers in the era of man, to say, they paved the way for man to be self aware.

So now you may wonder how this pertains to our time. Well, any form of art is composed with a viewer in mind, the job of an artist is to cause the viewer to have the intended emotion. If you see a picture of someone scared, you scan the scene to find out why and become fearful when you find the source. This is the entire point to modern art, to convey emotion. Even TV commercials rely heavily on the basics of art, to sway people into buying their product or service. So if what we strive to achieve is emotion, then the Romanticism movement is the first introduction to combining art and emotion. They were the forefathers of modern art. So the next time you see art, and feel something, remember that started in the 18th century. Blessed be.

*If you would like more posts like this one, please tell me in the comments, I would be more than happy to write them.

[newstfionline]

Monday, December 21, 2020

This Solstice, Solace for the Darkness (NYT) We have now arrived at the longest, darkest night of the longest, darkest year. And yet rarely have the heavens so proclaimed their glory. In blithe disregard for the activities of the Electoral College and everything else that humans were engaged in, the sun and the moon last week lined up in a perfect cue-ball shot to produce a total solar eclipse. The moon’s shadow slid across Argentina and Chile, and the majestic but shy mandala known as the solar corona revealed itself to crowds who had braved rain and fog in anticipation of the sight. Meanwhile, the Geminid meteor shower graced the Northern Hemisphere with celestial brush strokes of fire. And as always there is the brilliance of the winter Milky Way, starring Orion. Now comes one of the grandest events of the sky: a planetary conjunction. For the past year, Jupiter and Saturn have been dancing ever closer in the night sky. On the evening of Dec. 21, the very nadir of winter, they will be so close—one-tenth of one angular degree—that if your eyes are as bad as mine, they will appear as one blurry, bright planet. With a little optical aid you should be able to discern them as separate orbs, almost kissing, although Jupiter will be 450 million miles in front of the ringed Saturn. Go out and look southwest in the hour after sunset. According to astronomers, the two planets have not appeared this close to each other in the sky since 1623—but the sun’s glare then would have rendered them invisible. To find a conjunction that humans could see, you must skip all the way back to 1226. Chani Nicholas, an astrologer who lives in Los Angeles, sees the moment more mystically. “This is the end of an era and the beginning of a new one,” she said. “To have these two be so beautifully placed to be so bright and enchanting in the night sky feels very cosmically poetic.” She added: “After this year of restriction and confinement and devastation, there is this feeling of there is some kind of renewal.”

Millions in US cope with financial misery during holiday season (The Guardian) There will be no presents under the Christmas tree this year for Sierra Schauvilegee and her children. Schauvilegee lost her job as a nurse when the residential care facility she worked for permanently closed down at the start of the coronavirus pandemic. Finding new work has proved impossible. Heading into a holiday season overshadowed by the coronavirus pandemic and its attendant recession, millions of Americans have been left with little money and little to celebrate. Across America the haunting lines for food banks in Texas, Pennsylvania and other states paint a bleak midwinter portrait as charities struggle to cope with the financial misery left in the wake of Covid-19. Meanwhile in Washington, Congress continues to struggle to pass a new emergency relief bill before adjourning for the holidays. And even if a bill is passed, a lag of several weeks is expected for state unemployment agencies to recommence benefits to Americans in need. Politicians have been deadlocked over a new relief bill for months. And for Schauvilegee, a new bill will already be too late. She has lost her car due to non-payment, and through the pandemic hasn’t received any unemployment assistance. Her claim is still being adjudicated without any timeframe for when she will receive a resolution. Without a car, finding a job in her rural area has been nearly impossible.

Britain insists EU should move in Brexit trade talks (Reuters) Britain insisted on Sunday that the European Union should shift position to open the way for a breakthrough in post-Brexit trade talks, with health minister Matt Hancock saying on Sunday the bloc should drop its “unreasonable demands”. With less than two weeks before Britain leaves the EU’s orbit, both sides are calling on the other to move to secure a deal and safeguard almost a trillion dollars worth of trade from tariffs and quotas. Talks to reach a trade deal have been largely hamstrung over two issues—the bloc’s fishing rights in British waters and creating a so-called level playing field providing fair competition rules for both sides. Prime Minister Boris Johnson, the face of Britain’s 2016 campaign to leave the EU, has long said he cannot accept any deal that does not respect the country’s sovereignty, a goal that was at the heart of his election last year. But the EU is equally determined to protect its lucrative single market and wants to prevent London securing what it considers to be the best of both worlds—preferential market access with the advantage of setting its rules.

Boris Johnson Tightens U.K. Lockdown, Citing Fast-Spreading Version of Virus (NYT) Alarmed by a fast-spreading variant of the coronavirus, Prime Minister Boris Johnson abruptly reversed course on Saturday and imposed a wholesale lockdown on London and most of England’s southeast, banning Christmas-season gatherings beyond individual households. The decision, which Mr. Johnson announced after an emergency meeting of his cabinet, came after the government got new evidence of a variant first detected several weeks ago in southeast England, which the prime minister asserted was as much as 70 percent more transmissible than previous versions. The new measures, which take effect on Sunday, are designed, in effect, to cut off the capital and its surrounding counties from the rest of England. They are the most severe measures the British government has taken since it imposed a lockdown on the country back in March.

Pandemic exposes the vulnerability of Italy’s ‘new poor’ (AP) The coronavirus pandemic did not produce Elena Simone’s first budgetary rough patch. The 49-year-old single mother found herself out of the job market when the 2008 global financial crisis hit Italy and never fully got back in, but she created a patchwork of small jobs that provided for herself and the youngest of her three children. That all changed with Italy’s first COVID-19 lockdown in the spring. With schools closed, so went Simone’s cafeteria job. Her housecleaning gigs dried up, too. While others returned to work when the lockdown ended, Simone stayed frozen out. For the first time in her life, Simone needed help putting food on the table. At a friend’s urging, she enrolled for access to the food stores operated by Roman Catholic charity Caritas. Her eligibility covers her through January, and she hopes to be off the charity rolls by then “to make room for people who need it even more.” The charity serving more than 5 million people in the Milan archdiocese, Caritas Ambrosiana, says the pandemic is revealing for the first time the depths of economic insecurity in Italy’s northern Lombardy region, which generates 20% of the country’s gross domestic product. Between Italy’s near-total spring lockdown, the introduction of a partial lockdown when the virus surged again in the fall and the continued toll the pandemic is taking on Italy’s economy, the slim threads that allowed people to weave together employment have snapped.

Large car bomb kills 9 in Afghan capital (AP) A car bomb blast that rocked Afghanistan’s capital Sunday morning killed at least nine people, according to the Afghan Interior Ministry. Interior Minister Masoud Andarabi told reporters at the site of the attack that the attack wounded around 20 others, including a member of parliament, Khan Mohammad Wardak. Andarabi said the lawmaker was in “good condition.” The attack happened while the lawmaker’s convey was passing through an intersection in Kabul’s Khoshal Khan neighborhood. The blast set afire surrounding civilian vehicles, as well as damaging nearby buildings and shops. No one immediately claimed responsibility for the attack. The Islamic State group has claimed responsibility for multiple attacks in the capital of Kabul in recent months, including on educational institutions that killed 50 people, most of them students.

Lebanese Officials Try to Limit Inquiry Into Deadly Beirut Blast (NYT) More than four months after the largest explosion in Lebanon’s history sent a shock wave of death and destruction through Beirut, not a single official has accepted responsibility for the blast or publicly explained how a stockpile of explosive material was left unsecured in the Beirut port for six years. In fact, powerful politicians are working to block the judge in charge of the investigation from questioning senior officials, much less holding them to account. On Thursday, the judge paused the inquiry to respond to an effort by two officials to have him removed from the case. The blast—which killed 200 people, wounded thousands and inflicted billions of dollars in damage—was the starkest example yet of the grave dangers posed by the chronic corruption and mismanagement that have left the Lebanese with a dysfunctional state, poor services and a collapsing economy. A broad coalition of angry citizens has cast the explosion as a watershed moment that could lead to real change in the way Lebanon is governed and break the culture of impunity that has long protected politicians from accountability. But they face fierce resistance from a political elite determined to preserve its prerogatives.

More students abducted in Nigeria but are quickly rescued (AP) Gunmen in Nigeria abducted more than 80 Islamic school students in northwestern Katsina state Saturday night, but the pupils were quickly rescued by security forces after a fierce gun battle, police announced Sunday. The foiled abduction comes less than two days after the release of 344 schoolboys who were kidnapped in the same area on Dec. 11. The incidents have highlighted the insecurity in northern Nigeria.

Police killed at least 20 Kenyans while enforcing coronavirus rules. Hopes for justice are fading. (Washington Post) NAIROBI — On the evening of March 27, when the pandemic was new and full of terrifying unknowns, Francis Otieno switched on the news. What he saw is now seared into his mind. Live video showed police officers beating women who were waiting for a ferry ahead of the first night of a nationwide curfew—imposed out of concern for public health—that hasn’t been lifted since. Otieno has spent all of his 23 years in Nairobi’s ghettos and said he understood the message behind the officers’ blows: We will not hesitate to kill you if you don’t comply. The night after that, 20 minutes past the 7 p.m. curfew, police caught his 18-year-old brother, Ibrahim Onyango, and beat his face into an unrecognizable pulp. He crawled home and bled to death by morning. Onyango’s killing was the first of at least 20 by Kenyan police while they enforced curfew and other coronavirus-related rules such as mandatory mask-wearing. The government’s police oversight authority said 20 had been killed. It also documented 73 severe assaults, some sexual in nature. That count doesn’t include Onyango, whose death was never formally registered because his family sees such little hope in Kenya’s justice system for it to be worth the effort and because of the potential for further retribution. It’s indicative of what human rights groups say is likely a much higher, but hidden, toll.

Lockdowns have stopped people moving. And fugitives are running out of hiding places (CNN) Fugitives are encountering new challenges when it comes to hiding out during a global pandemic, with movement restricted in many countries. Some have been forced to hand themselves in, while others have been caught as they traveled. During the UK’s spring lockdown, the country’s National Crime Agency (NCA) arrested nearly 300 fugitives “which is substantially more than we’d usually see,” Arthur Whitehead, operations manager of the NCA’s International Crime Bureau, told CNN. The work was part of “concerted efforts” under Operation Suricate, launched during lockdown to locate fugitives and help make arrests. “Lockdown was unique for us because it produced an opportunity for limited travel for those serious organized criminals that look to evade us on a regular basis and gave us an opportunity to exploit intelligence, and we were able to act quickly,” Whitehead said. While some aspects of lockdown make it harder to hide, others provide opportunity for creative fugitives to exploit—such as police distraction, widespread mask-wearing and increased use of digital environments.

[thesinglesjukebox]

TAYLOR SWIFT - NEW YEAR'S DAY [7.44] And we wrap up 2017 with the woman that we always have such high hopes for...

Isabel Cole: Swift's famously concrete scene-setting details have only in recent years begun sounding less like lines culled from a predictive text generator trained on CW scripts and more like human moments caught by someone with a thoughtful ear. Here, they function not as specificity for its own sake but to sketch out both a series of spaces and a state of mind: the exhaustion of girls with heels in hand, the backseat flirtation that whispers possibility, the shock of finding that after an end comes a beginning, maybe, after all. In fact this song has all of her repeating motifs, as well as she's ever done them--her preoccupation with narrativizing her own life (don't read the last page), her fucked up relationship to time as something that takes and takes and yet slips by too fast, her tangled conception of memories as both something precious to be cherished and an unrelenting force from which there is no escape: hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you, she sings, echoing a phrase that bookended her most idiosyncratic album. But New Year's Day is not a retreat into familiar territory tacked onto the end of a record of unsuccessful experimentation. Muted instrumentation complements an uncharacteristically hushed vocal performance that captures, even more than the gentle loveliness of Begin Again, the tentative tenderness of new love for someone who has felt love die not in fire but in ice; please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize everywhere tells a story that creates a person who understands now that love in fact is not a victory march, and heartbreak is no aria. For all her infamy as the girl who will write songs about the boys who dump her, Swift has also woven into her work a version of herself as someone who leaves things that shouldn't be left; what makes her wish for gathering party detritus more believable than her previous playacting at domesticity is what she tells us about why it lasts: but I stay. I stay when I'm scared, I stay when it's hard; I stay, which is something I have learned to do. Locating the power of a love not in someone else's repeated decision to choose you but in your own capacity for remaining present in the face of uncertainty, revering not the luck it takes to be loved but the strength you find in yourself to keep loving, is--well. It's very grown-up. Making this feel like the first song Taylor Swift has truly written as an adult, and more than that: like the song she has spent her entire career learning to write. [10]

Stephen Eisermann: My birthday is on New Year's Eve, so the New Year holiday has always been a very bittersweet one for me. Most people party their night away with the idea that they will wake up as more improved versions of themselves, based only on the resolutions they made a week prior and will forget a week after. It's ritual, but it's a devastating one, really, to want to change so badly that you are willing to drop and forget everything from one year to the next just because you feel like you need to be better. In a quest to better ourselves, we too easily toss aside the experiences, good and bad, that molded us and would rather crumple the paper with our notes for a fresh piece, than bring the key points on to the next paper because maybe we got those key points from something painful... I'm rambling, but there's a point. This past year saw me struggle a lot -- with work, with life, with our country's moral compass -- but I can undoubtedly say that I have never been happier. This, in large part, is due to my boyfriend, who has taught me that you can't let go of unhappiness or darkness, just learn to work with and around it. That piece of advice, however general sounding it seems, has carried me through difficulties this year and I think, with this song, Taylor is saying the same thing. She had a rough couple of years in the media between her album cycles, but some people stuck around for the aftermath -- the cleanup -- and she's eternally grateful and willing to do the rest for her lover and her friends. It's a beautiful feeling, and the lines "hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you" as well as "please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere" are particularly devastating, simply because too many people abandon others they deem unfit solely because they have demons they can't take ownership of, so they'd rather pass the blame to those they love; and that's heartbreaking, especially when accompanied by a sparse, melancholy piano production. [10]

Alfred Soto: Now the party's over, and she's so tired -- even the piano sounds hungover. Taylor Swift, whose contract doesn't allow for hangovers, sounds alert, as if she's been keeping an eye on the condition of the floors all evening. After an album of sometimes compulsive ebullience, "New Year's Day" is supposed to remind listeners of the early Taylor Swift. [6]

Will Adams: A limp olive branch to those who might have been alienated by the EDM production on the preceding Reputation tracklist, "New Year's Day" strips Taylor back to a piano, some guitar, and pretty organ flourishes. Never mind that Regina Spektor wrote this song ten times better a year ago, why leave a ballad at its barest when there's no reason to? [5]

Katherine St Asaph: Taylor Swift makes an album of shamelessly, undeniably pop songs: often missteps, but also big and seething and vital and alive in the way her past glurge never was. Everyone hates it, except on the one song where she regresses back to beige acoustic sap. Rockism lives! "New Year's Day" has the slight edge over the past 20 outings because Swift sounds on occasion like Lisa Loeb. But it's the only thing here that could be called "edge" at all. [3]

Nortey Dowuona: Soft, pulsing piano, barely visible guitar, wailing synths in the corner, dece backing vocals. Tay simply hums without straining. [6]

Thomas Inskeep: Liked Swift out of the box, more with each (country) album, as her songwriting got stronger. Hated her initial pop makeover (wub wub wub). Surprisingly loved 1989. Am indifferent-to-cold on Reputation. And even though "New Year's Day" isn't, necessarily, explicitly country, it's a reminder that she can return to the format whenever she wants. (And her CMA Song of the Year, Little Big Town's "Better Man," is a sterling reminder that her pen has lost none of its punch, even if I find her current popcraft largely lacking.) I think we all know that in an album or two she's likely to make a full-throated return to the format which made her, and we'll be better for it. "New Year's Day" helps smooth that transition, and is nicely underproduced to boot.  [6]

Ashley John: The tender intimacy of stability hides the questions beneath the surface, and in "New Year's Day" Taylor is begging to leave it be. Like Lorde recalling buying groceries in "Hard Feelings/Loveless," Taylor clings to the boring moments shared only between two. The classic Swift specificity is what made Red so good, and we watch her here smartly paying a bit into that savings account each month waiting to cash out on the inevitable full blown country return. But that doesn't matter, now. "New Year's Day" is a treasure I want to keep warm against my chest and share with no one else for fear of them tarnishing it. It is Swift making a moment glimmer with potential and hope by bending time and memory. "Don't read the last page," she asks, and I don't want to. I would rather live in this disillusion before the world wakes up, pretending that we're the only people who've ever been in love like this.  [8]

Alex Clifton: There's so much in "New Year's Day" that made me cry the first time I heard it. The lyric about Polaroids, a clear reference to the 1989 era; the lyrical parallels between "please don't be in love with someone else" from "Enchanted" to "please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I would recognize anywhere"; the lightly waltzing piano in the background, simple but somehow devastating when compared with the overproduced mess that crowds most of Reputation. There's nothing inherently romantic about New Year's Day itself as a holiday; so much stock is put into the night before, all the parties and festivities and anticipation for a new beginning that the day of usually feels like a bleak, empty page. Yet as she always does in her best form, Taylor turns something unromantic like a hangover day into something to pine for. "I'll be cleaning up bottles with you" is so intimate that it almost hurts, like overhearing a snitch of a conversation you weren't meant to hear. It's a far cry from the earnest romanticism shown on former tracks like "Stay Stay Stay," where domestic life was twinkly, cute and fun, backed by toy pianos instead of the real thing. This is the Taylor I've longed for, away from the feuds and self-pity and bad rapping: reveling in the small quiet moments she has always been so good at observing. [9]

Sonia Yang: So many songs about holidays focus on the joy of the moment, that explosive rush of living in the moment; it's what sells. New Year's Day, however, is the subdued reality in the aftermath of such escapist fantasies - "I want your midnights / But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day" - it's unglamorous, hesitant, and more vulnerable than it lets on. Not everybody greets the new year with bombast and resolutions they plan to keep; it's more likely to quietly clean up the mess and go on with life as usual, with all of the same hopes and fears as you carried before the clock struck midnight. The most painful line is "Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere", that aching dissonance between familiarity and isolation that Swift does oh so well. A relationship immortalized in glitter-covered Polaroids can end sooner than one realizes, as if to show that no matter how brightly something shines, nothing gold can stay. It's fragility at its most cutting; the most powerful words are whispered rather than shouted. [10]

Danilo Bortoli: In a way, Taylor Swift has encapsuled 2017. Reputation has been met with some divisive, if not lukewarm, reception, proving to be the album we didn't want, yet managed to admit and love its flaws anyway. In a year devoted to uncovering the world's true colors, her narrative, just like her castle, came crashing down. And also in a year where simply coping seems enough, her happiness has even been seen by some as a luxury - or perhaps a felony. "New Year's Day" might suffer from this same fate, as some may listen to it as a forced reconciliation with her inner self "a la Miley", a retreat back from the reckless journey that fits most of Reputation. Yet, it comes off as the truest moment of this era for Taylor: here's to Old Taylor and the embarrassingly long yet remarkable mantras ("Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere"). As it often happens with her best songs, this one paints a vivid picture, constructing an entire narrative, this time measuring words with a stripped down piano, all suggesting, finally, some closure. It's candid. It's simple. It's heartbreaking. It's all about character, as she has learnt too late.  [10]

Edward Okulicz: The old Taylor is dead, said the new Taylor, but whoever sequenced the album sure was nice to put this throwback to thoughtful, generous, storytelling Taylor as the last thing you hear. The domestic scene she paints is lived-in, cosy, relatable once more. Her optimism comes through, mercifully, without any smugness and it's easily the best set of lyrics she put out this year. Thanks, Taylor(s). [8]

Maxwell Cavaseno: On a certain level, "New Year's Day" is brilliant because it's a sham of a record; nothing here is organic; it's a sea of strums, piano pawings, and musings to sound intimate and sentimental in the way of a singer-songwriter record, and what deep down we somehow understand Swift to be and keep forcing analogies to. It actually is sequenced really badly because, as always, Antonoff is often too clever for his own good and is deliberately making something unnerving and ambitious rather than functional (yet again the bland ambition of Nate Ruess was truly the foil he deserved, a man who could smother his tics to death in brazen tapioca). Swift, who's clearly not giving a shit on this record vocally or in trying to reign him in, is utterly adrift and her talk of glitter and memory just rings as hollow as the other asemblikit elements of the song. This record could easily be more than it is, but its sense of orphaning is pained and senseless.  [3]

Anthony Easton: Listening to the Harry Styles record this year, I was wondering (and hoping) that Taylor had reached the end of her experiment with taste, and would make something resembling a Laurel Canyon record. Hearing most of Reputation, this was obviously not the case. It was interesting, because it seemed like both Lorde and Saint Vincent made albums which took the sonic experimentation of 1989 in new and difficult directions, trusting Jack Antonoff to take care of their aesthetics, pushing and deconstructing this kind of electronic thicket that marks populist taste right now. (See Craig Jenkins essay in Vulture.) I think that I overrated this single because it provided something new, not quite a rapprochement to old Taylor (if Old Taylor was dead, then who is singing this lovely, old fashioned ballad--a ghost, a zombie, something more technologically advanced) but also not something quite new. I always worry about misogyny when I say these things, that liking the pretty song is not liking the angry song (false dichotomy I know) or liking the ballad and not liking the more abrasive songs, but the ballad is so beautiful, lush, self aware and exquisitely sung, even more exquisitely produced This might be the most conservative thing she has produced, the most republican thing--in the moneyed, tightly private idea of pleasure, but also in the idea that those kind of pleasures are well guarded---thinking of the sexual harassment law suit, thinking of the failure of her kind of me-first feminism, that this is a kind of weaponized good taste, explicitly against the vulgarity of current pop, or current discourse, after an hour of trying to be as vulgar as more interesting pop stars, keeps prodding that Laurel Canyon vibe. It's slippery and fascinating, and probably less good than I want it to be.  [7]

Andy Hutchins: The story of "New Year's Day," in part, is that it was Taylor finding a use for the line "Please ... don't / Ever become a stranger / Whose laugh ... I / Could recognize anywhere" -- a strong bit of writing from someone whose fantastic songwriting chops have been wasted on too many attempts to veer away from being the evolutionary Carole King she could be with nearly no exertion. But even though I know too many strangers whose laughs I could recognize anywhere to not tear up at that line, the one that makes my breath catch is "I want your midnights / But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day." Swift is at her absolute best when she nails the ordinary details it does not beggar belief to think she actually desires -- and when she sings that she wants someone for after the afterparty, it sounds honest and yearning in the way truth and optimism can be. Would that she could focus on that, because I give more damns about it than her reputation. [8]

Jonathan Bradley: Taylor Swift alone somewhere at a piano, playing soft clumsy chords, only half-attentive, barely a melody. "New Year's Day" concludes and recasts Reputation in retrospect; as the unguarded obverse, it accounts for that album's garishness and noxiousness. "New Year's Day" is a song of little details and emotional import, which is another way of saying it is what we have come to recognize as a Taylor Swift song. In this one, she finds in the miniatures of her morning-after tableau -- glitter, candle wax, "girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby" -- a gentle grandeur, and then in that, earnest sentiment. "Don't read the last page," she tells her companion, casting them into a storybook before resolving back into the prosaic: housework and hardships. There are not many songs that do this on Reputation, and, as with "Better Man," casually gifted to Little Big Town, "New Year's Day" is a demonstration that Swift can still do this, that her current work is not a failure to create vividly detailed pop but a conscious rejection of it. Reputation is an album about privacy and turning away from the public; it asserts again and again that there are things in Swift's life that she can refuse to make known. The music and sentiment matches this: it is at times ugly, at others glib, often repellent or anti-social, dangling details before obscuring them in ellipsis or melodrama. "New Year's Day" demonstrates that none of that happened by accident. The old Taylor is dead, but she be summoned at any time: this song casts ordinary life as legend like on "Long Live," voices hopes and fears in the form of mantra as on "Enchanted," and concludes a tumultuous record with a new start like on "Begin Again." It's tender and familiar. It's one of the best songs Taylor Swift has ever recorded. [10]

[Read and comment on The Singles Jukebox ]

[thelonelybrilliance]

Months as Taylor Swift Songs

January - Holy Ground

This is such a New Year’s song. Swirling confetti, emotions that must be fondly put aside, so they can rest--hope and heartache and remembrance.

Runner Up: State of Grace

February - Treacherous

February is such a secret time of year, where you have to seek out warmth and comfort in dark days and gray chill--and this song always reminds me of the subtle glow in the heart of a coal, ready to be fanned into flame.

Runner Up: The Last Time

March - Mine

The beginning of spring, and therefore of stories--and this song (and the video) is one of the greatest fairytales Taylor has ever told.

Runner Up: That’s The Way I Loved You

April - Out of the Woods

This song is so wild, so clean, so evocative of stark shadowy branches and white light in between--what could BE more April?

Runner Up: A Place in This World

May - Stay Beautiful

This is a warm, lovely, kind song that is perfect for the edge of summer. We haven’t yet lost that wonder and generosity of friendship and young love.

Runner Up: Change

June - Starlight

There’s something crystalline and pure about the month of roses and summer weddings. I love June best when it has an vintage, old-timey feel--and Starlight is just right for that, all breezy dances and daring love.

Runner Up: Love Story

July - Sparks Fly

This song is just so perfect for the height and heat of summer, with sudden breaks of storm. It’s magical, but it’s also loaded with much more risk than the early days of June.

Runner Up: Shake it Off

August - ...Ready for It?

I’m glad to have an opportunity to feature this brilliant new song, which just feels perfect for the absolute glory days of the end of summer--one last ride, one last time, and time for new beginnings (college, whatever). It’s such a champion’s song, and it’s time for a new era.

Runner Up: Our Song

September - All Too Well

“Plaid shirt days”?? Yeah, that would be September. And what a glorious month--the marriage of summer and fall, to be paired with what is arguably Taylor’s best ever song? Both capture the sweeping change a year, a season, a heartbreak can bring.

Runner Up: Style

October - I Know Places

October is a time of cold winds and vibrant colors, and this song has such a sense of danger, adventure, and changing times that it fits perfectly well.

Runner Up: Enchanted

November - Sad Beautiful Tragic

What to pair with the bleakest month of the year? A song that is also bleak, but shares the same subtle, painful beauties. Just like a pearl-gray day, Sad Beautiful Tragic is a poem in motion.

Runner Up: The Best Day

December - The Moment I Knew

I know that Back to December is the obvious choice, but I didn’t want to pick that. There is no tragedy greater than a Christmas-time tragedy--when everything should be right and festive and golden, but something blackens the heart of it all. Misery at a party, in full view, with strings of lights and glittering dresses--it hurts so vividly and perfectly, as too many Decembers have before.

Runner Up: Back to December

@itspileofgoodthings

[kpopsource-entertainment]

Top 10 KPop Highlights of January 2020: KS Picks

January 2020 marks the beginning of a new decade and a new era for Kpop. With a few soft, wistful ballads remaining yet nothing too exciting to anticipate, January was a slower month for interesting releases. However, with some heavy digging, KS Press brings to you some of the most intriguing releases of the month. Horizon (ATEEZ)

Spotify / YouTube Starting the new decade with a bang, ATEEZ came back with their new mini-album Treasure Epilogue: Action to Answer. From this album, “Horizon” particularly stands out from the crowd for its unusual sound and distinct tone. With a distorted, repeating vocal sample in the background and hard-hitting chorus that drives the song, “Horizon” perfectly captures ATEEZ’s unique, raw sound which has caused them to grow in popularity so quickly. A particularly interesting addition is the enhanced synth to the chorus during the climax of the song as it reaches an impactful conclusion. ATEEZ always has at least one song on their albums worthy of fulfilling the position of title track: “Horizon” was this one. The song's dance theme is recurrent yet it hits differently each time, leaving the listener craving for more. —Tato Winter Flower (Younha feat. RM)

Spotify / YouTube Dabbling in bright, compelling EDM with a certain sense of security and reassurance, Younha's "Winter Flower" brings comfort in bleak periods. Off her Unstable Mindset EP, the track is an absolute emotional banger with emergent kickdrums and Younha's explosive voice soaring high on top of a motivational instrumental. The chords are right within Younha's wheelhouse, but her artistry has never been bolder. The rightful successor to her 2017 masterpiece "RescuE," "Winter Flower" features RM's magnetic voice chanting words of solace. The track is rightfully named "Winter Flower," as it is an artistic bloom for Younha along with hinting at a resilient flower that blooms in the harshest conditions. —Mortie All for You (Sechskies)

Spotify / Youtube This marks not only the first Sechskies comeback since 2017 but also as the first one as a four-member group. “All for You” is the title song of their first mini-album All For You and follows the softer side of the first-generation K-pop group.  This song is about someone who tries their all for their special someone despite making mistakes and not being perfect. Saying how they wish their lover would say yes and that they would do everything for them. It definitely is a song that can live up to Sechskies classics like Couple and Hunch.  — Jen

Spotify / Youtube Wish (DreamNote) DreamNote came back in January with a bang. “Wish” is a song with magical and ethereal undertones in the base of the melody. Dream Wish, the album that accompanies this title is in general following this trend set by the title. The song is all about themes like dreams, courage and feelings being expressed. It falls in line with what this girl group has been offering to fans since their debut. —Jen AnySong (Zico)

Spotify / Youtube Zico talks about the feeling of having no interest towards life and is pleading to play in his upbeat, relatable single “AnySong.” With a swinging, playful rhythm, Zico expresses how he finally wants to feel refreshed and excited. The song mixes in jazz and shakers during moments which creates an almost comical tone as well being muffled during points, mirroring Zico’s confusion. Similar to songs like Dean’s “Instagram,” “AnySong” talks about the feelings of this generation in a way that is understandable. It discusses this topic in a relatable way and in a fitting mood. — Jen & Tato

Spotify / Youtube Say My Name (ANS) With the arrival of two new members, J and Haena, "Say My Name" marks ANS' first comeback and their first release as 8 members. The powerful and fierce song showcases ANS' impressive stage presence and their angel-like vocals. The single is a pop-based EDM dance track that captivates listeners with a highly addictive chorus. "Say My Name" perfectly captures the group's charisma and confidence. —Dani My Tragedy (Taeyeon)

Spotify / Youtube With a striking melancholy accordion to begin the song, "My Tragedy" paints a pensive and somber picture. The song is filled to the brim with rich guitar riffs, strong drums, and compelling vocals. Perhaps reflecting herself, the song speaks of loneliness and separation as one falls mercilessly to their doom, highlighted by Taeyeon’s fragmented voice especially during the last chorus. The accordion makes a dramatic reappearance during the bridge and the finale, the circular structure emphasizing her trapped state as she repeats the same cycle over and over again leading to an ultimate downfall. Loaded with personal gems, Purpose is an album that speaks close to Taeyeon. With its repackage, she captivates listeners yet again with her enchanting voice and emotive songs. —Tato

Spotify / Youtube Paradise (Siyeon; Dreamcatcher) Siyeon has been getting well-deserved attention for her vocals since her cover of "Speechless." It was a smart decision to give her a solo right now, especially one that showcases her vocals. "Paradise" is not only carried by vocals but also the soaring instrumentation. Starting off with light fluttering piano, the song slowly fuses electropop elements to create a buildup for the synth-driven chorus. The instrumental is dense but not overpowering, in fact it further highlights the vocals. The instrumental fully numbs down till the last verse of the bridge as Siyeon's soulful voice shines in it. "You are always in my heart" complements the climactic chorus that follows. Overall, the song has a motivational feel, one similar to "Into the new world".— Skinnny Flat Dog (HYUKOH)

Spotify / Youtube “Flat Dog” is a song from the K-indie band HYUKOH’s latest album Through Love. The retro-rock piece gives off a loafing and careless vibe, like a sweet summer nap.   The instrumental is pretty consistent throughout with a trumpet and drums dominating along with the addition of an electric guitar which adds more soul to the song. The mischievous-whisper singing style is as playful as IU’s “23.” The song is easy on the ears and perfect for cafés and such public places. —Skinnny

Spotify / Youtube Go Away Go Away (Chanyeol, Punch) Chanyeol and Punch come back with another heartfelt ballad this January. Chanyeol's husky baritone voice against Punch's melodic soprano voice make for a gorgeous duet. Driven by an acoustic guitar with occasional twinkling synths, the track revels in one quality - nostalgia. The chords are burgeoningly nostalgic and paint a certain aural aesthetic that touches the hearts of listeners. With lyrics about loneliness and reassurance, the track is the perfect ballad addition to our list and deserving to be one of the highlights of January. — Mortie Honourary Mentions: OnlyOneOf - dOra Maar VeriVery - Photo Jun & Chan (A.C.E) - Where You Are Super Junior - Ticky Tock Read the full article

[booklust]

futurelit vol 3: starlit void

I knew for a fact that for volume 3, I had to cover a twitter bot. Come hang with me and starlit void for a while and see why---

The boom of Creative Writing Twitter is a natural extension of how we communicate today: quickly, constantly, concisely, urgently. But short doesn’t mean simple: following the ethos of writing (or subverting) formal verse poetry, the restraints of Twitter often produce the most creative content. Among them are many creative writing-oriented twitterbots. These clusters of code generate tweets following a certain linguistic--and sometimes also visual--structure a set amount of times per day. Some results are "better” (more beautiful, or more hilarious, or more surprising, or more mundane, or more....) than others, but it’s always enchanting to watch unfold. The dependable, structured presence of twitterbots--however unexpected the results---on our feeds makes them eventually feel like a friend---oddly human. One creative writing bot that stands out to me is starlit void’s quietscape--the bot pairs a colorful, randomly generated, geometric digital landscape picture with a short, fantastical suggestion/description. Each tweet creates an environment for thoughts to exist in, like a creative writing prompt. At least for me, it serves an essential meditative function within hectic internet space. I knew that my conversation with starlit void would be a rad discussion about writing and tech, but it bloomed into so much more: an oral history of bot world, seriously cool meditations on mental health, Soundcloud playlist suggestions, + more! Keeping with the futurelit tradition (and my own personal tradition), we avoided a phone call and did our chat over Twitter DMs this time:

what is your favorite environment to create in? (whether it's a certain physical space, listening to a certain kind of music/silence, etc.) 

i typically like to be well-caffeinated, alone or in a cafe, & excited about getting something working.... there's a thin line between excited & stressed about how something is going to turn out. i used to go to "game jams" until i discovered it was actually really stressful for me. i'm trying to be more relaxed about my creative output (this is easier said than done) & trying to avoid equating prolificness w/ human value. i think i do my best work when the intended audience is very selective, even 1 or 2 people, or just for myself. i also listen to what i call "robot music" a lot, for example this sort of mix.

----continue below----

tell me a little bit about how you came up with your bot 'quietscape' -- what were your inspirations for it? as i believe you had already guessed, @quietscape was first intended as a prompt bot, for getting some creative thoughts limbered up. at first the output was text only, which was easy to do using tracery (TRACERY PLUG: tracery by @galaxykate along w/ http://cheapbotsdonequick.com by @v21 are hands down the greatest twitterbot making tools around, lowering bar to entry for many many people into the complex world of botmakery). i think at first i did use a few of them as prompts, but quietscape was ultimately too bland & not interesting enough. i added the raytraced images as a proof-of-concept & it's remained almost unchanged ever since. quietscape is still a work in progress!!!!! of course after adding images i came up w/ a huge complex system of how this takes place on a mysterious earth-sized artifact orbiting a binary star system blah blah blah but i felt it was more important to synchronize tweets to my own daytime schedule. i found some code to roughly calculate sunlight intensity & sunrise/sunset times at roughly my latitude for a planet that's roughly earthlike & that was "good enough"! the schedule is also in line w/ some of my thoughts on bot tweeting volumes. i like that quietscape only tweets 5 times a day (dawn, afternoon, dusk, midnight, & a daily "shrine" tweet), which i think helps keep xem from getting too familiar or overstaying xyr welcome. i love procedural generation but our minds can feel out the recurring pattern of a bot very quickly, even if there are 50 bazillion possible combinations, which sounds good on paper but doesn't actually provide human quality variety in the output. my partial answer was to make a terse bot. as far as actual inspirations go: quietscape owes quite a lot to tsutomu nihei's architectural renderings, @katierosepipkin & @lorenschmidt's collaborative work, and @edclef & @davidkanaga's game _proteus_. the daily "shrine" tweets are thanks to @trapitolina's @obelisk_bot, which got me thinking about adding more of a physical location feel to quietscape.

what do you love most about coding as an art/writing form, and how did you get into it? i see generative & algorithm-assisted creativity as a vast & mostly untapped field, where the product isn't really the product, but a wild & nearly organic factory that can make lots of weird & surprising things. i think @katierosepipkin said it best in their interview: "Here, the cartographer draws the cliffs that contain a sea of one hundred thousand artworks. And then one searches for the most beautiful piece of coral inside of their waters." this resonates w/ me, especially this feedback loop of curated generation (generate a huge number of results & then pick out the best ones). of course that's hard to do when making a bot that supposedly exists independent of human interference. there are a lot of successful procedurally generated experiences out there & yet i think there is much to be learned about how we can work hand-in-hand w/ computers to make more human accessible works. @emshort explores this a whole bunch in her notes following the text of "the annals of the parrigues" (see page 81), "the state of the roads", & it's really eye-opening & exciting. on the other end of the spectrum, it's exciting to me that there are several wonderful tools available for picking up rule-based creativity & just making it. i would love to make tools that help people get started down the road of algorithmic creativity. i would love to see more voices using these techniques.

I can't help but notice that your 'quietscape' website is hosted on neocities---were you into geocities when you were younger? and if so, do you have any cool memories about it? (or about any other piece of the internet that's not around anymore that you're nostalgic for?)   sure!!! i had a geocities site & i'm still known to gawk in awe at mid-90s web aesthetics. but even more important than that, i think it's crucial we move away from centralized conglomerate based media platforms for our creative output. html remains a viable technology for sharing ideas & presenting them online, & to get started you just need to copy paste some nearly-human-readible code. returning to lists of url links & webrings & simple web crawlers as the means to discover other sites.... it's not democratic or equal in any sense, but in hindsight it seems better than entrusting your content to an algorithm w/ an intrinsic corporate bias. geocities was the era during which we were sure that the internet had come to free us all from ignorance & relying on centralized systems. 20 years later, 3 or 4 companies control almost everything you do online. the bleak cyberpunk corporate surveillance police state of the 80s is happening instead. i'd love to go back to those innocent days & work for a better distribution of technology. or breaking systems down, i don't know. relying on systems is killing us.

which projects are you currently working on, or would like to in the near future? the big theme of what it would be like to live in a weird endless megastructure has haunted me for about 15 years so i'll probably still find ways to explore that in future work. the two other forces that draw me kind of go hand in hand but they're also kind of opposite. i'd like to put more of myself in my work, & focus on some of the changes & revelations i've had over the past few years (gender, sexuality, identity in general). but also i'd like to address bigger issues, like stepping down & propping up marginalized voices.

post an image/images that feels like 'the future' to you (x) love mushbush's work & it feels out of time & futuristic in a playful way!

[sinceileftyoublog]

Integrity Interview: Victorian Nightmares

Photo by Jimmy Hubbard

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Armageddon meets Francis Bacon on the 12th studio full-length album from heavy metal band Integrity. Entitled Howling, For The Nightmare Shall Consume, it’s an album that simultaneously grows lead singer Dwid Hellion’s fatalistic view of humanity and the band’s penchant for excellent metal hooks, all while taking inspiration from the Bible and the aforementioned figurative artist’s paintings. Yet, Hellion and company keep things cohesive yet exploratory, telling a story over music that’s as black, sludgy, and bluesy. It makes for an album that’s as accessible as it is heavy.

Here, Hellion breaks down the record. Read his responses to questions about the tone, sequencing, album art, influences, and more, below.

Since I Left You: Howling, For The Nightmare Shall Consume is a catchy album about bleak subject matter. In similar juxtapositions, you've talked in interviews about how humanity is a disease but that's not necessarily a bad thing? Overall, what kind of tone were you going for with the album?

Dwid Hellion: For the most part, the lyrics deal with Occult events that transpired in different periods of human history, all of which were tied together by a seance that may or may not have taken place at the painting studio of Francis Bacon on October 31, 1961. There are a couple of songs on the album that do not fit into this concept; however, those songs do seem to mesh well with the other numbers, and only aid in allowing a more interpretive experience for the listener (or at the very least, we hope that is the case).

SILY: "Die With Your Boots On" is a tribute to Lemmy Kilmister. Describe the influence he had on you as a musician and person.

DH: I think Lemmy was a larger-than-life character. More than an icon, he was a symbol of what hard rock and even heavy metal stood for. All walks of life identified with him. He was the outlaw with the golden heart, the outcast who rose to being a symbol of acceptance among other misfits. He was a legend in his own time and beyond. And then there is the timeless music of Motorhead, which is undeniably some of the greatest recorded music in the underground scene--even flirting with mainstream success at various times throughout the band’s career.

SILY: "Serpent of the Crossroads" is a turning point in the album. Did you always know it was going to be in the middle of the album?

DH: Well, we knew that we would gradually build up to the longer songs. Like a symphony or the pacing of a film, we wanted to have shorter beats leading up to longer, chapters that we hoped would immerse the audience within our nightmare.

SILY: What inspired the backup vocals on "String Up My Teeth"?

DH: I believe that Monique Harcum's soulful, gospel addition to the song helped to confirm its direction and mood. For me, this vocal accompaniment seems very natural, and I plan to revisit that formula on future recordings. [Guitarist Domenic Romeo] and I aspire to infuse all of our musical influences and ambitions into our albums. I see no barriers in musical or creative expression. And while it may seem to be a perplexing obstacle for some, I do not subscribe to any genre or sub-genre. Bland categorization and pigeon-holing someone’s creativity is the antithesis of art.

SILY: Do you have a favorite song on the album? A favorite to play live?

DH: I enjoy all of the songs, so it is difficult to pick a favorite. We make these albums with the intent of entertaining ourselves with music that we would like to hear. If I had to pick one song that offers the most diversity, I would go with the song “7 Reece Mews”. I especially enjoy the lap-steel guitar part of the song. I find it very moving and emotive.

SILY: What inspired the album art?

DH: The main album art is a series of collage artwork that I created using various source material from Victorian-era engraving prints. You see, classic horror films would always set their timeline in a distant past that is beyond the audience’s range of actual experience or memory. By choosing a distance that reaches beyond the age of the living audience, the setting will take on a mythical quality to the landscape and allow your imagination to become more free to explore. My use of Victorian-era illustrations was intended to emulate this same enchanted aspect of cinema and bring us to a time that lies beyond the reach of our own memory, with the hope that this setting would help enhance the imagination of our audience and ourselves.

SILY: What's next?

DH: We have begun writing new material for our next album. Developing the album’s backstory will play an important role as to how it will unfold.

[mairzymarzipan]

Hey guys, remember tin!?  

I wrote some angst for Nathanael

Holy cow do I hope this works :B  It feels a little comedy to begin with, which might muddle the angst?  Idk, I like to mix them, but I’m never sure how it comes out.

“Hu-Hussar?  Why are you so big?”

“My Prince?  I’m no larger than I was before when I was in the Big World.”

The horse towered over the boy.  Two Nathanaels would have to stack up on top of each other just to pet his nose.  He was slender, with ramrod straight legs that were fused to too-curved skis.  He was wood, painted white all over, with button eyes in front of the face.  His mane was some yellowy silk, and his coat had only a few specks missing.

Nathanael considered his options.  Maybe Hussar had just been a really huge rocking horse before coming to Kotdaloes, like big enough for big kids to play on.  And he was like, trojan horse sized?  He was so big you had to keep him out in the yard, and use a ladder to climb him?  But Hussar and The Prince had belonged to a rich kid- somebody who was almost a prince himself.  If anyone could have a giant rocking horse in their yard, it was probably the son of some regency era English lord.

Nathanael turned away from Hussar- or maybe it was a full spin because he certainly felt like the was spinning.  He glanced up.  What about the stars?  The Big Dipper was up there, just where it belonged.  And just over there- a tree with a house next to it.  The tree was some kind of squat conifer- like a red pine.  And the house was a wooden affair with a peaked roof.  Nathanael set of toward these through the tall grass.

“Your Majesty?  Where are you going?”  Hussar rocked himself on his skis, slowly inching after him.

Nathanael was already halfway around the side of the house, “I’m going to knock on the door.  Maybe they have a phone I can use.”

“But,” came The Colonel’s pleasant voice, “isn’t that a doghouse, Your Majesty?”

Nathanael stopped in his tracks.  The tall grass had ended and Nathanael was standing on some smooth earth, smoothed by feet or wheels.  He was at the front of the house now.  Instead of a door, it had a wide bay like a garage, only taller so that it took up most of the wall.  Nathanael could see all the way inside to the bare back wall, and at the carpet that was all bunchy and folded like it had just been thrown in but never stapled down.  And he thought for a moment- well, maybe they’re renovating the place.  But that didn’t explain the stencil paw prints above the door, or the chain that lay stretched on the ground in front of it and off into grass.  It was, huge, like something you see in a horror movie.

“Your Majesty?”  An orangey hand was on the corner, and then an orangey mustachioed face.  The human looked for everything to be the Colonel- from the big, droopy mustache to the sword to the way the buttons cinched on the trim body.  He was just, all one color, and shiny.  A brass version of himself.  He was also shorter than Nathanael, but not short enough.  Like, he came up to his shoulders.

“Colonel,” Nathanael, “I don’t suppose you were a statue before you got a soul, were you?”  He said, thinking that the carpet looked more like fleece blanket than a carpet.

The Colonel stood up straighter and he wiggled his nose uncomfortably.  “A statuette, maybe.  I’m only eight inches tall.  But you have a way with flattering words, Your Majesty.”

Nathanael nodded slowly.  There was a sort of clamminess grasping his chest.  It held him tight all around, and even entered inside him.  He felt like these awful, slithering fingers where in his lungs.  He felt like they filled every inch of his lungs until he couldn’t catch a breath.  Then he realized he didn’t have lungs.

He put his hands to his face and there was a clop, like wood against wood, and the feeling of two smooth orbs above his eyes.  He wandered until there was a shadow above him- a big curved metal wall.  But it wasn’t a wall, was it?  Just the underside of some dog’s water bowl.

It was silvery, and an ugly, twisted face looked down at Nathanael.  And though the face was distorted by the curve of the bowl, it was still fairly accurate.  What with it’s bulging green eyes and spritzes of wild black hair and the teeth that took up most of the bottom of the face.  Nathanael to look away, or shut his eyes but, staring at his own reflection, he seemed to remember that he didn’t have eyelids.

“My Prince!  Where to now, Your Majesty?”  Behind the nutcracker in the mirror, Nathanael sighted the horse rocking ever closer.  The brass man was approaching him too, using a more usual stride.

Nathanael’s arms fell parallel to his sides.  He stared up into his eyes.  No.  Not fair.  He had done everything.  He had worked so hard.  He had crossed the country with a mad woman, faced Coppelia, convinced everyone he was a dead guy that he wasn’t and finally- finally!  Stepped through an exit trudasurry.  He was back- in The Big World!  No, no- on Earth!  That should have been it.  Nathanael needed it to be it.  When Alice and Dorothy and Wirt came home, that had been it for them!  Their stories had been over!  They had won!

But Nathanael knew his story wasn’t over.  He was on Earth, but he couldn’t go home.

“My Prince?  Are you alright?”

Couldn’t he?  So what if he was still small, and wooden, and had a face not even the mother of a harelipped pug could love.  His home was his home, and it had his family in it.  He loved his home, and his town, and he missed his family.  Dearly.  Even his Mom, who treated his gender like a joke.  She also dried blankets and brought them up when the kids were sick, so they got to sleep under something warm.  And his father who encouraged him to imagine all kinds of crazy worlds, and his sister who was his nerdiest best friend he had, and his little sister who were also so smart and so adventurous.

“Your Majesty, do you still want a Big World phone?  There’s a fleshuman dwelling nearby- I could sneak in and look around for something.  Do I have your permission?”

He should be there.  He belonged there.  And yet, he couldn’t go.  It wouldn’t be home.  Not now.

What would his mom say if she saw him like this?  Would she even recognize him?  Or could he even get the words out before she turned him away?  Would his dad throw him in the woodchipper?  His parents couldn’t even believe he was a boy, so why would they ever believe he was a doll?  What about Hilda?  She might be convinced but, then what?  Would she smuggle him inside?  Maybe then he could live in the triplets dollhouse.

“My Prince!  Please, say something!”

His future stretched out in front of him and it was bleak.  The triplets were seven.  Seven.  What was life going to be?  Would they try to dress him up?  Make him date their Barbies?  Oh- oh no.  Would they grab him around the middle and walk him around on the floor?  What if they fought over him?  What if his head came off?  He didn’t want to be somebody’s toy doll!  

So then would Hilda take pity on him?  Hide him in her room?  She’d make sure he was comfortable and that the twins didn’t get their hands on him and yet- that seemed almost as miserable.  It’d be like jail, but with Steven Universe music playing all the time.  There would be nothing to do there but wait.  Wait for what?

He’d never be able to finish school, or ride Brooke again, or go live in California- or anywhere, for that matter.  If what all the dolls told him was true, then he’d never be able to go out at night.  Even if his parents did believe he was himself, what would they say?  Having a son who was a nutcracker must have been like, wayyy more mortifying than having a daughter who thought she was a boy.  It would be easier for Nathanael to make them think he was dead.  They would probably rather think he was dead than think of this ugly block of wood as their kid.  

“He’s not moving.  He’s not moving!”

“Well, he is a doll.”

“Colonel!”

“I’m sorry.  Has- has he been touched by sunlight?”

“From where?  It’s ten-minutes-past-twelve.  There’s is no sun!”

Nathanael stood ramrod straight, not even looking up anymore.  His eyes were kind of unfocused anyway.  He knew he was dissociating.  He also knew that people were talking.  He could hear them, but their words didn’t matter.  They were people on a show on TV on the other side of the house.  They were clearly upset, but, they were in another world, in another time.  They weren’t even real.

“Your Steedness, if I may state a hypothesis-”

“Out with it, Chamberlain.”

The Colonel seemed to bite back on the word, but went on, “Is it possible that the stars of the Big World have frozen our beloved Prince?”

“The stars?  Colonel, don’t be stuffbrained.  The stars have never hurt one of our kind.”

“Yes, but none of our kind have come back from The Darkness at the Edge of the World.”

Nathanael couldn’t go home.  He could go home, but he couldn’t go home.  But he was loathe to turn around and got back to Jamburg.  He had worked hard for this.  So hard.  He couldn’t just throw it away.

Hussar didn’t say anything, so the Colonel was the next to speak, “He’s like an anglerfish who’s lived so long at the floor of the ocean that he now flinches at any light.  I mean, it’s not unthinkable to say that The Darkness has changed him.  His hair has absorbed it’s color.”

“But our stars don’t have this effect on him-”

“Our stars are enchanted.  They bring souled dolls back from inanimacy- they have something that these stars do not.  Perhaps- perhaps they’re the only stars His Majesty can stand under.”

Hussar’s breath was heavy, “It’s a good thing His Majesty hates the Big World so much.”

But, he also couldn’t seem to muster up the will to walk away from this spot- to explore this part of Earth for what it was.  He would have been satisfied to stand in this very spot until the sun came out to freeze him in place, officially.

His companions had other thoughts on the matter, however.  The Colonel put one brass arm around him and dragged him away from the water bowl.  “We’ll get you out of here, Your Majesty,” he whispered, “no one will know about this.”

Nathanael probably should have told The Colonel to leave him alone, but he couldn’t even muster that effort.  He didn’t know what The Colonel wanted with him, and he didn’t care.  The Colonel somehow pushed him onto Hussar’s lowered back, but not before a deep cooing was heart in the yard.  

“An owl!”  The Colonel cried.

“We’re safe- I’m dog sized,” Hussar said, “no owl will come near you two with me here.”

The horse stood up, and rocked into the doghouse.  The sky was covered up by wooden planks coming together at a point.  The Big Dipper was gone.  Nathanael should have felt a certain heart tightness to have it taken away.  All that was there, instead, hard, dead wood.

And then, snow.  Snow overtook him, wrapped him around in its crystalline but not-too-cold embrace.  It filled his vision and spun around, confusing him.

Until it cleared, and Nathanael was looking at very different stars.  They were familiar, though.  Not familiar the way the faces of your family are, but familiar in that way that that some unwanted guy who keeps trying to flirt with you and follows you around campus is familiar.  Nathanael picked out the crown and the guillotine before he slipped off Hussar’s much smaller and more furry back.

The Colonel was there to ease his fall.  The man was now taller than him, with peachy colored cheeks and a sandy mustache and blue eyes and coat.  “Your Majesty, are you alright?”

“I belong here,” Nathanael said, eyes drifting skyward again.

“Indeed, you do!”  Hussar said, “For this is the Land of the Dolls, the land you discovered, and conquered!”

Oh, that was funny.  Hussar thought he had meant that in a celebratory way.  Nathanael had been a nutcracker for a week, but his body had never felt so heavy and wooden.

[emilytj8-blog]

Influential films

IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER:

Gummo (1998) directed by Harmony Korine

Easily making it to the top in my selection of favourite films, Gummo is one of the most unique, uncomfortable, yet enchanting films I’ve seen. A series of bleak vignettes, surrounding the story of two young men trying to get by in the dismal, tornado-struck city of Xenia, Ohio, sends us into a world of adolescence, drug abuse, violence, sex and misfortune. Harmony Korine’s use of unusual characters and miserable scenarios makes this film a grim but fascinating gem, which took me multiple viewings to decide what I thought it all meant. I recommend this film to everyone who needs something to watch- but warn them about the scenes of violence, particularly the animal cruelty. (No animals are actually harmed, but for some it’s still hard to watch.) Everyone should watch this film!

The Wicker Man (1973) directed by Robin Hardy

This is another favourite- it’s almost impossible for me to have a single favourite as I love so many films. But this film is one that has had a big influence on me from a younger age. Adapted from David Pinner’s renowned book Ritual, this film is peculiar, sinister and iconic, and features some of my favourite actors of all time: Christopher Lee, Ingrid Pitt and Britt Ekland! This chilling film focuses on themes such as spirituality, rituals and the conflict between differing beliefs. It makes you question conventional values, and empathise with what would otherwise be seen as evil… In 2003 a remake of The Wicker Man was released, featuring Nicolas Cage, however this film had a generally negative response, and I think this is due to the representation of the people of Summerisle. Whilst The Wicker Man gives an insight to the beliefs of the islanders, and helps us understand why they do what they do (no spoilers), the remake unfortunately presents them as evil, malicious people. This spoils the essence of the story; but as an independent film, with no relations to the original Wicker Man, it could pass as a tolerable horror film.

Eraserhead (1993 in the UK, 1977 in USA) directed by David Lynch

Eraserhead had to feature in this list of influential films, because ever since I watched it, memories of it have never failed to make me feel uneasy! The one word I would use to describe this film, is ‘nightmare’. It surprised me when I found out how early it was filmed, but after some thought, I think a lot of weird things happened in the seventies. My mum told me about this film, so I decided to give it a watch, and whilst it was difficult to finish, I think I enjoyed it. What I like about this- and many other of my favourite films- is the fact it had a significant effect on me. Whether I enjoy a film or not, if it leaves me thinking about it for days, even weeks, it’s done its job in my eyes. What’s the point in a film which doesn’t affect you mentally? This film is creepy, unsettling and hard to make sense of, but it’s pure art. I wouldn’t recommend watching it alone, or when you’re not sober, and have something nice to watch when it’s finished!

Witchfinder General (1968) directed by Michael Reeves

Admittedly, I probably first watched this film because I was obsessed with Dani Filth when I was younger, and he mentioned it in an interview. But being interested in witchcraft and the macabre punishments that were in place during the witch-hunting era, this film was my cup of tea. It’s gruesome and leaves you feeling terrible for the poor women suspected of witchcraft, but Matthew Hopkins, the witchfinder himself, is incredibly strong in character in a terrifying way. The film has a gloomy substance, and when it finished I was left in a bit of a miserable state. But that is what a good horror does!

Basket Case (1982) directed by Frank Henenlotter

This is another film which had to make the list purely because of its disturbing and outlandish essence. This film is absolute madness, the idea is total lunacy and I won’t even mention it here, for the sake of those yet to watch it. Just seeing the poster for this film either makes you laugh, or cry, and the film does exactly the same. Basket Case comes as a trilogy, and for me get more ridiculous with each film. It does categorise as a comedy horror, and it was probably scarier for an audience in the eighties, and now just humorous for contemporary viewers. This film is great for watching if you fancy something weird, hilarious and a bit creepy.

Kids (1996 in the UK, 1995 in USA) directed by Larry Clark

With Harmony Korine writing the screenplay for this film, I saw a lot of similarities between Kids and Gummo, in the characters and style. Featuring Chloe Sevigny, a brilliant actress, who also stars in Gummo, this film looks at the theme of drugs, violence, STDs and sex in a group of teenagers. The film opens with an uncomfortably long scene of a young, underage girl graphically kissing an older boy, and this is just the first of many painful scenes, typical of Korine’s story writing. The story follows the teenage boy Telly’s perverted quests and a young woman Jennie’s journey to find the man who gave her HIV. This film is great in respect to its cinematography, emotional provocation and acting.

Moulin Rouge (2001) directed by Baz Luhrmann

This is one of the more mainstream films I adore. I love everything about it, the actors and actresses, the plot, the music, the colours, the romance, Paris, everything. I used to watch this film all the time when I was younger. I think it humorously and poignantly captures the themes of culture, theatre, desperation and romance, through the use of social class, prostitution and wealth. Another one I’d highly recommend to anyone who hasn’t seen it yet!

Dracula (1958) directed by Terence Fisher

I’m pleased to be able to say I read Bram Stoker’s Dracula way before I watched any of the film adaptations- so I had a good basis to go off when deciding which was my favourite. To be perfectly honest, Christopher Lee’s presence in this film makes me slightly biased, as well Peter Cushing’s (he lived in my hometown, Whitstable). The first time I watched this film was on a big projector by the beach near my home, at a mini film festival during Summer 2013. It was a great setting, as it played during the sunset, so the atmosphere was beautiful. Christopher Lee just portrays the best Dracula, fulfilling the most characteristics described by Bram Stoker, and looks genuinely terrifying for a film made in the late-fifties. Whilst Bela Lugosi’s portrayal of Count Dracula is still iconic, it doesn’t quite fit the alarming and formidable demeanour which Dracula needs- however, this probably wasn’t as achievable- or legal to show on screens- in the early thirties.

Nosferatu the Vampyre (1979) directed by Werner Herzog

This is the only version of Nosferatu I have seen so far, so I can’t compare it to the earlier or later ones, but I enjoyed this film so much. Nosferatu is one of the more spine-chilling vampire characters invented, with horrible protruding teeth and a freakish, bald head. The classic image of Nosferatu leaning over Lucy, (the typical, swooning, voluptuous damsel in distress) fangs at the jugular, is one of the best stills created in film. I think Lucy is portrayed perfectly, she is particularly beautiful and stands out to me. She works perfectly in contrast with the ugly, frightening Nosferatu, who remains just as hideous in each theatrical representation. This film is great, and as usual, not as scary nowadays as it was originally intended, but nevertheless a brilliant watch.

Gaslight (1940) directed by Thorold Dickinson

Not to be confused with the 1944 American remake, this film follows the manipulative relationship between Bella and Paul Mallen following a murder. The whole plot is Paul cruelly convincing Bella that she is going mad, and she begins to doubt her own mind and sanity. He controls her into believing that much of reality is actually just in her own head. The whole story is a tale of deception and manipulation, and fortunately there is justice in the end. It’s hard to write about why this is one of my favourites, as many of my reasons gives away a lot of the plot! It’s one of the older films I like, and sadly older films are sometimes disregarded because of their age. I would really recommend this puzzling and exciting film, which keeps you on edge throughout its entirety. The term ‘gaslighting’, a form of manipulation which causes people to doubt their sanity, originates from this film!

Metropolis (1927) directed by Fritz Lang

Metropolis is a German, silent science-fiction film, which I was fortunate enough to see featuring many scenes which had been missing for a long time! I found this film quite difficult to understand, especially as I wasn’t used to seeing silent films at the time, and it was incredibly long. However, music assists silent films so much, revealing a lot of emotion and suspense which would otherwise be hard to detect. The film is extremely symbolic, looking at cultural and political issues in Germany, such as democracy and capitalism. I had to include this in my list as again, it was very influential for me, and many other film fans. I’m not politically educated enough to quite understand Fritz Lang’s meaning, but it’s open for interpretation, and everyone who watches it has a fresh perspective and unique ideas on what it could mean.

Betty Blue (1986) directed by Jean-Jacques Beineix

Betty Blue has a secure, cherished and precious place in my heart and soul. That sounds dramatic, but it is honestly one of the most romantic, poignant and intense films I’ve watched. It’s also a book, which I read shortly after watching the film for the first time, and it impressed me equally as much as the film. It follows the turbulent and passionate relationship between Betty and Zorg, who are madly in love and care for nothing but each other. The film is really long, but takes you through a vigorous journey of emotions. I don’t think I’ve ever watched Betty Blue without weeping at the end. It’s set in France too, which creates an all the more romantic and seductive sense in the film. Because you experience the couple go through so much, you get to know the characters so well and a sturdy attachment to them is made. Whilst so many events take place, the imperishable love for Betty that Zorg has is endlessly felt throughout the entire film. It truly captures the essence of unconditional love.

[torentialtribute]

Renato Sanches lit up Euro 2016 but now he faces rebuilding his career in France

Manuel Neuer did not want him to go. Philippe Coutinho Did not want him to go. Even Niko Kovac, who had given him only 960 minutes of playing time in the last 12 months, did not want him to leave. But in the end Renato Sanches felt that the only option was to pack his bags and leave Bayern Munich

The 22-year-old midfielder joined Ligue 1 at Lille last week and ended a bizarre and often miserable three years with German champions Bayern, with a short and depressing interlude in Swansea City.

After arriving in Germany as a freshly crowned European champion, Sanches both left his place in the Portuguese national team – although he is in the team for Saturday's game against Serbia – and its reputation as one of Europe & # 39; s most popular talents.

Renato Sanches has finally appealed to his disappointing stay of three years in Bayern Munch

The Portuguese midfielder has joined the Fr Anse outfit Lille and moves this summer for £ 23 million

& # 39; In Bayern I learned to work hard, never give up and always do my best, & he said bleak during his presentation in Lille last week. After having had only 35 Bundesliga appearances in three years, he could be forgiven for not looking back on his time in Munich with great pleasure.

Sanches joined Bayern from Benfica as an 18-year-old member in 2016. He was impressed when the two sides met in the Champions League quarterfinals and the deal had already been signed by the team, eased the Portuguese Euro 2016, with which he helped his country to the title and earned the Young Player of the Tournament prize.

There were great expectations in Bayern. Xabi Alonso had filled the gap that Bastian Schweinsteiger and Toni Kroos had left in midfield, but up to 34 years old the Spaniard was not long for top football. Bayern Chairman Karl-Heinz Rummenigge would later explicitly say that Sanches was signed as Alonso's successor, and Alonso itself had only warm words for the Portuguese.

He has so much power, so much energy, I can't wait to play alongside him. Maybe I can even learn something from him, & said the experienced midfielder, the World Cup and two-time Champions League winner himself, in July 2016.

It didn't go that way. In his debut against Schalke, Sanches rushed from pillar to pole, but with nothing of the goal and the penetrating brilliance he had shown during Euro 2016. On several occasions, Alonso was seen protesting with him, irritated by his poor positioning and hectic pace.

Sanches (third left) was intended the heir of Xabi Alonso (second left) in Bayern Munich

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But Alonso grew annoyed playing together with the teenager in the middle of the park

The rest of the season followed a similar pattern. Sanches would make only six starts that year for Bayern under Carlo Ancelotti, four of which arrived in mid-October.

A year later, he was lent to Swansea, orchestrated in a movement by Ancelotti & # 39; s former assistant Paul Clement. In retrospect, it was the kind of transfer that might make sense in a Football Manager game, but would never work in real life. The logic was that in South Wales, Sanches could escape the spotlight while remaining close to Bayern via Clement & # 39; s link with Ancelotti.

Ancelotti was fired a month later and Sanches spent a disastrous year in the Premier League, the low point of which was a terrible performance against Chelsea in November. Forever subjected to the relentless hype and hyperbole of the social media era, the fall of Sanches was summarized in a single, misjudged pass to a Carabao billboard, played endlessly on Twitter and YouTube.

Thiago Alcantara may have made the same mistake in Munich a year earlier, but for Sanches the moment seemed much more important. Here was a player whose self-confidence was so shattered that he could no longer distinguish between a teammate and a graphic LED.

Sanches endured in Torrid time in the Premier League with Swansea, which ended with injury

Sanches & # 39; time in Swansea was summed up by one pass and misplaced in Stamford Bridge

Sanches pas famously found the Carabao sign on the field billboards instead of a red shirt

The reaction of his manager Paul Clem ent said that he should be kept informed of the incident

After playing the first half of the season in fear, Sanches died of a hamstring injury in January and never played for Swansea again. Omitted from the Portuguese World Cup team, he returned to Bayern at the lowest point of his young career in 2018 and immediately began to shine again.

& # 39; Renato needs affection. He needs recognition, he needs trust, and he can get those things if he has support. He has my support and he will certainly have many good matches for Bayern this season & # 39 ;, said new coach Niko Kovac in July 2018.

Strengthened by the confidence it put in, it seemed for a for a short while as if Kovac finally got the best out of Sanches. He scored against his former club Benfica in the Champions League and became Bayern & # 39; s player of the month in September.

Suddenly there were flashes of the talent that had enchanted Europe in 2016. Again Sanches began to frighten opponents with his battering ram running out of midfield. Head slightly bent and with a low center of gravity, he again began to look like a kind of dreadlocked Luis Figo.

Sanches lit up Euro 2016 when Portugal's title, but he has since lost his place in the side

Yet, like Pep Guardiola before him, Kovac would find that warm words and a caring arm around a shoulder were lost. replace the field. How much better, Sanches was still struggling with the release of Corentino Tolisso, Thiago and Leon Goretzka from the midfield of Bayern. Even in his most successful season in Bayern, he made only four starts in the Bundesliga.

The Bayern coach would probably claim that Sanches, in addition to his success at Euro 2016, remains a young player who has time and space to develop. Yet Sanches did not see things that way. Over the past few months he has repeatedly expressed his frustration with a lack of playing time. After a cup win at Energie Cottbus last month, another game in which he showed flashes of old excellence, Sanches said he wanted to leave the club.

He was immediately beaten with a fine, although Bayern insisted that it was for missing the training instead of asking for a move, and Kovac once again expressed his support for the Portuguese.

& Renato is a super kid. I understand how he feels, & said the Bayern coach. The same feeling was reflected by chairman Rummenigge and sports director Hasan Salihamidzic when Sanches came closer to leaving Bayern. No one in Bayern seemed to deceive Sanches about his desire to leave, to get more playing time and to fight for his place in the national team.

Philippe Coutinho and Manuel Neuer have expressed their disappointment about his departure

On the contrary, vice versa. When Sanches scored his first Bundesliga goal on the last day of last season, the emotional celebrations with his teammates spoke volumes. Even when he left the club, several colleagues only had warm words for the young midfielder.

I spoke with him before he left. He's a great guy and it's really a shame he's not with us anymore, & said Manuel Neuer. For Philippe Coutinho, Sanches & # 39; major player & # 39; that Bayern & # 39; would certainly miss & # 39 ;.

Sanches is certainly not the first player whose career has stalled after a premature move to Bayern. Yet he is one of the few whose departure has led to a wave of regret. Nobody wanted to see him go. Everyone wanted to see him do well. But eventually Sanches thought he had no choice. To save a career that had begun with such promise, he simply had to leave Bayern Munich.

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[musingwithshal-blog]

CONFESSIONS OF A BOOKAHOLIC

STATUTORY WARNING :reading books can be injurious to health I'm hurting deeply today..its nothing new...occurs often...I need to cope up with this deep gnawing pain...I m suffering from a heartache...but I can't fall apart...I wish I was those übercool genre of female homosapiens who could nurse a heartache like chipped nailpaint! Just wipe off old feelings which got chipped and reapply a fresh coat of paint/feelings and ur ready to rock de world! Grrrrr, now I'm annoyed wid myself....may be I could drown myself...or ill just shut down de part of my grey cells which transmit all these nerve racking, heart clenching,nociceptive emotions....why can't I grow up! Be matured and take de heart matters as they come...I'm not like my peers....maybe I'm mutated....or I don't belong to this world......he told me de same thing last night!! Not like de dreamy- wow!u r out of this world!ur so beautiful and perfect that u seem unreal.....but like..I could hear de drip drip drip of sarcasm from every word....he said that I was out of this world...I d lost touch wid reality and lived in de fictional world created by novels I read...NO! I gorge upon....they are de food for my soul...a beautiful getaway. PRESCRIBED DOSAGE : a good book taken wid a cup of coffee and de harsh realities seem so faraway....I get intoxicated by a good book like people do with a bottle of their bubbly...may be de books are my poison...welllllll its easier to access ,cheaper,and I don't have to sniff it or pour its bitterness down my throat to get high! Jus picking up a book gives me contradictory sensations of a calm, along wid a tickle of anticipation of de wonders i'll unveil...it IS intoxicating, floating sort of a felling...the smell of a new book...the soft rustle of the pages...the enchantment it casts upon u...It must be an enchantment...u r in the real world in flesh and blood , yet u r not there...u r oblivious to what goes on around u...its sheer bliss!! Choosing a book is like standing in the time machine .....trying to decide which era of future or past would u like to visit today or dining in a fine restaurant. A for-ur-eyes-only menu pops up- Mam! Where would u like to go today? What emotions would u like to feel ? Do u want a bit of romance? Victorian era or new age? Slow and sultry or fast paced? A touch of humour? Some sprinkles of tragedy? And would u like a side dish of mystery to go with it? Poof!Your world is transformed...Ur emotions go on a roller coaster ride. You feel de pain of The drama queens heartache and laugh through your tears to put up a bravefront. You struggle through de storms of hardships and never stoop low...never give up ur self respect and dignity...In the end de gud triumphs over evil,the right over wrong and love wins....u go thru de epilogue and reassure urself that they had a gud and happy life ..and u realize that de book is over...and so is ur joyride! U fall back into de real world ...and ah! What a nasty bruise u got....the chores still left undone beckon u with their creepy fingers....calls to answer ,bills to be paid and governments to run....welcome back to world bleak and grey....no clear black and white of gud and evil here...just a dreary smudged up grey ...no complete right and wrong....no gud winning in de end....no love..he's gone....oh de heartache is back....it hurts even more now....why can't I hav had what my dramaqueen had....why couldn't my love come back wid open arms and love me for what I am?....I can't take it....ill just get back to de chores and de bills and de day to day drills...but please! Just a little peek in de next paperback...ah well! Just one...there u go....okay, please just one page....just one and den I ll stop....no...just de first chapter....just a mouthful more ...mmmm....and u can't stop ...The emotional rollercoaster ride begins...... again!!