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dearfuturehusbandblog · 6 months

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ZMAN CHEIRUSEINU aka "I'M the terrible communicator!?!?!?!!"

Dear Future Husband,

I hope nobody ever quizzes me on this blog because there are so many things that I've started and stopped writing that never got posted that I literally never remember what I've actually put here...

Not that that's really fully relevant to what I was thinking about writing now, but I currently have two unfinished posts in my drafts folder (amidst 25 others that will probably never get posted) that are just a recap of this year so far.

Because I'm just a kid and life is a nightmare.

Explaining what's going on right now is kind of problematic because I haven't provided the lengthy backstory yet (which is one of the drafts I have yet to finish...)

Suffice to say, MotherLivelyHeart is being a nightmare to me again.

I think I've shared before that MLH and I share a vehicle? If not... yeah, we share a car. I'll have to look through my posts to see if I've explained that situation before, because that's one more thing to check off the "my life absolutely f*ing sucks" list.

Usually this isn't the worst thing in the world because we operate on different schedules and there isn't much crossover when it comes to who needs the car when, and when there is I usually drop her off somewhere, do what I need to do, and pick her up after.

For the record, I HATE when she offers the opposite because I have a history of being abandoned in places waiting for her to pick me up and it gives me such severe anxiety.

So last week on Sunday I asked MLH what her plans were for the next day. I asked this because I overheard a phone call she received on Friday from the dentist's office about an appointment she had on Monday at noon that she hadn't told me anything about and I knew if I was going to ever find out she was going to take the car, I would have to be the one to ask her. So I asked. And wouldn't you believe it, she had a dentist appointment on Monday at noon! Shocker.

Now, I'd been out of work since the beginning of January (again, details will hopefully be in another post) so I had a lot to take care of at work last Monday and I told her that.

We agreed she would have the car for her appointment and I would take the car to work when she got home.

Come Monday afternoon, suddenly everything has changed.

You see, her boss called in sick and she had the day off because she has a specific job that requires her to work alongside her boss and if he doesn't work, she doesn't work.

So she had the day off. Joy.

Of course, did she tell this to me directly? No.

Did she message me this information? No.

I'm just supposed to approach her and ask, "hey, did your boss call in sick and give you the day off?" I guess.

So she went to her appointment and ran some errands and called me while she was still out. Apparently some specific water bottles she can only get in like two places were available at one store about 20 minutes away from our house and she placed a pickup order so she could get them before they were sold out. The order had to be picked up between like 2:30-3:30pm and she called me at around 1:30.

Great.

She picked a pickup time that was directly during the time I was supposed to be at work.

Which she knew.

Because I told her this literally the day before.

So I told her fine. She should do the pickup order and when she got back I would take the car to work.

"Well, I also wanted to go swimming."

*Deep breath* Ok, what time is swimming?

"From 2-9pm."

At this point I didn't know how long I'd be at work because one of the things I had to take care of could be like 4-6 hours and I didn't know if there would be enough time when I was done to get home and let her get to the pool with enough time to swim before they closed.

"Ok, well why don't you go swimming, do the pickup order, and then I'll take the car to work?"

"Well, I want to come home and eat something first."

Ok. So now, what was supposed to be my time to take the car is going to be "stolen" by her coming home (15 minutes), eating something (15 minutes), going to swim (40 minutes), getting the pickup order (30 minutes), and coming back home (20 minutes).

This is TWO HOURS off of my time.

WHICH I HAD TOLD HER I NEEDED LITERALLY THE DAY BEFORE.

So she came home, ate something, and changed into her bathing suit. She left around 2pm for the pool.

I assumed at this point I'd hear from her around 3:30pm that she was around the corner.

But 3:30 came and went.

4:00pm came and went.

4:30pm came and went.

5:00pm came and BigSis messaged that she would be done at work in an hour and could either of us give her a ride home?

MOTHERF@*$%^#$ER

So it's been three hours without an update from MLH, but then she responds "I should be on my way back from the pickup order then."

EXCUSE ME!?!?!?!

She left for the pool at 2pm. THREE HOURS have gone by and she hasn't even gotten the pickup order that was supposed to be picked up between 2:30-3:30pm!?!?!?!!?!?

But she tells me that I'M a terrible communicator.

I was supposed to get the car by 1:30pm latest. It was now after 5pm and I STILL hadn't gotten to work yet.

As much as I hate when she offers to drop me off at work so she can take care of things that will take a few hours, SHE DIDN'T EVEN ASK ME THAT. She made it seem like I would have the car all afternoon to take care of what I needed to at work. And when her plans shifted, she made it seem like I'd have the car by 3:30pm latest.

And let me remind you THAT I TOLD HER THE DAY BEFORE WHAT MY SCHEDULE WAS SO THAT THIS S*** WOULDN'T HAPPEN.

But I'M the terrible communicator.

At that point I was so frickin annoyed already. MLH messaged me "should I get her or just come home" and I was so peeved I said "just get her because if you come home and I take the car I'm not picking her up."

She didn't respond to that message.

Great.

No thumbs up. No "ok." Just nothing.

Then at 6:12pm I get a message from her "car's downstairs in front."

So no message from BigSis that MLH had picked her up and they were heading home. No "we're around the corner." No nothing except over an hour later "take it."

BUT I'M THE TERRIBLE COMMUNICATOR!?

At that point it was too late for me to do some of the things I needed to take care of for work because, again, I was supposed to have been there FIVE HOURS EARLIER. And a friend messaged and asked if I could go with her to Costco, so I said to hell with it and I went to Costco with her.

While I was at Costco I messaged both MotherLivelyHeart and BigSis about what I was getting so we were all on the same page. Included in that message was eggs because, well, I was getting eggs.

I got home at like 10pm and MotherLivelyHeart and BigSis were already asleep. I made a couple of mini salami kugels with some spinach that oddly floated to the top, waited for them to cool, tried 1/4 of one before sticking them in the fridge.

Next morning I open the fridge and there's a new carton of 1.5 dozen eggs. Because apparently MLH went to the supermarket early in the morning and got eggs because "we were out."

DESPITE ME LITERALLY MESSAGING THE NIGHT BEFORE THAT I WAS BUYING EGGS AT COSTCO.

Oh, but it gets better. Because the salami kugel I had tasted the night before was missing.

BigSis was working from home so I asked her about it and she said she had no clue.

So I asked MotherLivelyHeart about it, thinking maybe it slipped out of the fridge, smashed, and she threw it out.

But no.

Guess who ate it.

Yep, the woman who has been suffering from gout and avoiding meat for the better part of a year.

The woman who saw it in the fridge and said to herself "oh, that's one of the broccoli kugels LivelyHeart made for herself for Shabbos that she said wasn't good. I guess I'll eat that for breakfast without asking her if she really doesn't want it because although she's on a weird diet right now, there's no way she's made a meal plan for herself that includes this food item she made for herself."

Because, did she message me to ask if she could have it?

Nope.

Did she knock on my door to ask if she could have it?

Nope.

Halfway through eating it she realized it was salami.

And she still finished the whole thing.

And still at NO POINT did she message me AT ALL to even tell me that she ate it.

I had to find out by inquiring OF HER.

BUT. I'M. THE. TERRIBLE. COMMUNICATOR!?!?!?!

I shouldn't be mad.

It's just food, after all, right?

Except that it's not.

It's a frickin pattern of carelessness and disregard for me as a person.

And I'm so frickin sick of it.

I'm so damn tired.

It wouldn't have killed her to ask.

It wouldn't have killed her to apologize.

And what I haven't really explained here (because again, that's in a draft post) is that I've been on an elimination diet since January 1st which has cut most things from my available food selections.

But is she on an elimination diet?

Nope.

So we have a HOUSEFUL, a PANTRYFUL, and a FRIDGEFUL of food she can eat.

And she chooses the ONE thing I made FOR ME.

Which she KNEW I made for ME.

Instead of the MYRIAD OF THINGS that she can eat that I can't.

Which means that she's not only taken a meal from me, but now I'm at a food deficit from the fridge while she lives in abundance.

BUT. I'M. THE. TERRIBLE. COMMUNICATOR.

So let's leap forward to today.

Today was Shabbos mevorchim. Pesach is in two weeks.

And MotherLivelyHeart decided we are going to change over the kitchen two weeks ahead this year.

So she scheduled her cleaning lady to come tomorrow (Sunday) to help clean the kitchen so it can be turned over.

Did she take into account that this would be motzei Shabbos and that we'd have to make Shabbos and that would involve dirty dishes and use of the stove/oven and pots and pans?

Yeah, no.

Did she take into account that the way she wants to clean the oven requires the oven to be self-cleaned before and after which takes a good several hours and creates so much smoke that we'd have to keep the windows open and also it's like 40F right now and she also wanted to go to sleep early because the cleaning lady is coming at like 8am?

Yeah, no.

BigSis went over the oven cleaning thing with her and she exclaimed "are you kidding me?! Then why am I having the cleaning lady come tomorrow?!"

BECAUSE YOU SCHEDULED HER WITHOUT CONSULTING US.

BECAUSE THERE WAS NO COMMUNICATION.

DO YOU SEE A FRICKIN THEME HERE!?!?!!?

Oh, but there's more. Because there's always more.

Thursday was another nightmare day for various reasons. One of which was that I ran errands with MotherLivelyHeart.

She scheduled an appointment for smackdab in the middle of the time I told her I'd be working.

YES. AGAIN.

And she wanted to drop me off at work and pick me up when I was done.

Well absofrickinlutelynot, thankyouverymuch.

I was supposed to work until 6pm.

I had told customers I would be available until 6pm.

Her appointment was scheduled for 6pm.

So of course "I need the car at 5:30pm."

She wanted to drive me to work earlier so that she could take the car at 5:30pm to her appointment that wouldn't be done until 7pm and then come get me an hour and a half after I was done working.

But I was supposed to trust that she wouldn't run errands or dilly dally around and that she'd actually get me at 7:30pm, which we know is never the case.

So I told her no, I'd be taking the car to work. But I would notify the customers I'd only be there until 5:30pm, at which point I'd get her and drive her to her appointment. Then while she was in her appointment I could do the Shabbos shopping, since it seemed pointless to have to wait for her to come home again before I could go out and shop.

For various reasons, we had three stores we needed to go to, one of which was about 20 minutes in the opposite direction of where her appointment was. I figured I could go there first, then on my way back to get her I could run by the other two stores, get her and then we'd go straight home.

But no.

Because it was raining and people apparently don't know how to drive in the rain. So despite me taking the highway, which should have cut like 10 minutes out of the ride each way, it took me about 30 minutes to get to that first store, which I was in for maybe 10 minutes, and as I was checking out MLH messaged "my appointment is almost over, where are you at?"

So all I had time for was turning around and going straight to get her.

Which, fine, whatever.

One of the stores we went to literally just for chicken.

And it was chicken for her because she wanted a specific type of breaded chicken for Shabbos.

So I figured I'd run into the store and grab it while she stayed in the car.

But no.

Because while I was unbuckling, she was unbuckling. Because she decided to come in.

So she went to look at side salads and I went to the chicken section where I waited but she never showed up.

Then I get a message from her.

"Where are you?"

Excuse me???? WHERE ARE YOU, WOMAN???

I told her I was at the chicken section waiting for her and she said "I already checked out. I'm going back to the car."

WE LITERALLY WENT TO THIS STORE TO BUY HER CHICKEN.

SHE CAME IN WITH ME.

PRESUMABLY TO BUY HER CHICKEN.

But she's checked out already!? WITH WHAT!?

Oh. Apparently something to eat. Because she's hangry.

Which she, OF COURSE, DID NOT TELL ME.

Fine. Whatever.

So I bought her frickin chicken.

And then on the way home she got mad at me about three driving-related things that were out of my control (like the car started making a weird noise that might be the muffler, and there was a huge pothole I couldn't avoid, and I was coming to a stop at an intersection when some lady rounded the corner quickly and we barely missed colliding...) which resulted in her yelling at me that she hates the way I'm driving.

So, yeah, that was a fun ride home.

*EYEROLL*

Anyway, on the way to her appointment she said "we never worked out a Shabbos menu."

I told her the same thing I've told her almost every week over the last three months: I'm eating differently from you guys, so you just tell me what you want and I'll grab it from the store, because I already have set aside what I'm going to eat.

And she tells me "my boss has off tomorrow, so I can cook."

Which is perfectly fine in my eyes because I'm still recovering from an injury (again, that's one of the drafted posts...) and I also had a horrendous cold for the previous two weeks so I'm still trying to get back to baseline. Any pressure off me is appreciated.

We basically worked out that for shabbos we'd do a big soup for Friday night (which I would make), then she wanted chicken (obvs) and I had bought green beans at Costco I told her she could have, and then Shabbos lunch would be fish and salady stuff.

Well, Friday rolls around.

The day already sucked because I tried adding some vegetables back into my diet during the week that are apparently problematic for my digestion. Fun.

But then MotherLivelyHeart decides to stick to her arbitrary Pesach cleaning schedule which says to clean the milchig dishes she's had piling up all week. So of course she decides to do this at like noon and doesn't finish the job and there are still milchig dishes in the sink at 3pm when I need to go in and make the soup.

Add onto that, one of my "chores" is the pareve dishes, some of which have been piling up too and also need to be done, which she feels the need to remind me of, despite her milchig dishes still filling the sink.

So I go in around 3pm and just start cooking, using the small bit of counter space that's available to me.

She decides that's the perfect time to finish the milchig dishes.

FINE. WHATEVER.

She gets them out of the way and reminds me YET AGAIN about the pareve dishes.

FINEWHATEVER.

So around 4pm I'm back in the kitchen, doing the pareve dishes, of which I only got about half done because it was causing pain and I still had to cook.

So I pivoted and did the soup.

But nothing else had been cooked yet.

So I made the green beans.

And I had to separate the soups so I could add things to theirs that I can't eat.

At this point I'm still annoyed from her the day before, my insides are so unhappy with the newly tested foods, I'm in pain from the injury, and I'm trying to cook for Shabbos.

Around 6pm I asked BigSis if she could help with the chicken. She was like "I STILL HAVE TO SHOWER!!!" As though she didn't have all day for that and somehow me needing help is my fault. She said "if you had asked me like three hours ago I could have done it."

Except that three hours ago, the milchig dishes were still filling up the sink, so.... what exactly do you expect from me!?

Sometime a little earlier when MotherLivelyHeart had been in the kitchen it was clear I wasn't doing so well and she asked what was wrong and I described the pain and she was like "I'm sorry" and then disappeared.

So then she gets a "20 minutes to candle lighting" alarm on her phone, and she's been trying to light early in zchus of the hostages and chayalim, so she calls out "20 minutes to licht benchen." Which I responded to but she didn't hear, obviously, because she yelled again "LivelyHeart, did you hear me!?"

To which I responded an annoyed "YES!!" and she was like "you don't have to talk to me that way! I clearly didn't hear you. And BigSis and I can make Shabbos on our own, you know."

Which, MYGODWOMAN. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO.

My responsibility based on our conversation was the soup.

ZE HU.

SHE was supposed to do the chicken and the green beans and whatever else they wanted.

So now she's annoyed at me because I'm annoyed at her for not doing the thing she was supposed to do, but I'M the one in the wrong.

FINE. Whatever.

In the end I didn't do the chicken.

I literally didn't have the strength for it, let alone the energy.

Not that it was really missed at the meal, but she was a bit annoyed and gave me that same "BigSis and I can cook for Shabbos on our own, you know." To which I responded "You said you were going to cook." I literally don't even remember what her response was.

Well, fast forward through Shabbos to tonight because I asked her if she wanted the chicken for melava malka or if we should stick it in the freezer for a week since it's KFP.

She wanted it for melava malka.

Which, fine, whatever.

I told her if she could bread it, I would cook it.

She got gloves, she got bowls, she got the chicken, and she got eggs.

She did not get the other ingredients she needed for the breading. Or a plate to put it on. Or a fork.

She sat down at the table and then asked me to get the other ingredients.

Which, fine. Whatever.

I got an interesting piece of mail that I'll discuss in another post when I know more what's going on with it, but it basically called my attention to research something. So I was on my computer off to the side while she was breading the chicken.

The next thing I know, she's frying the chicken.

I went into the kitchen and asked her why she was frying it when I told her I would do it for her since cooking usually exhausts her, and she got all frustrated and exasperated at me and said something like "I DON'T HAVE ALL NIGHT TO WAIT FOR YOU."

And I was like, "what are you talking about!? I was waiting for you to finish breading it! you didn't tell me you were done!"

Which just pissed her off more.

BECAUSE. I'M. THE. TERRIBLE. COMMUNICATOR.

But this is the time of year we celebrate freedom, right?

This is the time of year we thank Hashem for rescuing us from a horrible situation.

Well, where's mine?

We're supposed to celebrate every year as though WE ALL left Mitzrayim.

As though we were ALL saved.

But I am not saved.

I have never been saved.

The stupidity I've just described above is just a piece of the insane patterning of my entire life.

I have no escape from this nonsense.

And I'm just so done with all of it.

I want it all to be over.

I want it all to go away.

Where's my freedom?

Where's my salvation?

I really have to finish those other two drafts, because this isn't even the clearest picture of what I've been dealing with since 2024 started. It's barely April and I just want this secular year to be over.

There are a couple of people who have suggested guys to me over the last several months and, although they're not really what I'm looking for, right now I just don't have the emotional energy for a new relationship. I'm just so burned out from this one that I deal with every frickin day of my stupid life, which of course I can't even tell these people.

So... dear future husband, I hope you can hang in there, because I don't know when I'll be ready for you.

But maybe by then I'll be a good communicator.

-LivelyHeart

And now for the story after the story:

So, after that disaster of a drive back from the store on Thursday night, we got home around 8:30pm and although she got something small to eat from that second supermarket I knew that MotherLivelyHeart hadn't eaten anything since lunch so when I made dinner for myself I made a second bowl for her. I brought it to her and she said "oh... you didn't have to do that." Not a lot of enthusiasm there.

She didn't eat it for about a half an hour, by which time it was probably cold, and the next thing I knew, she was in bed going to sleep without another word about how it was.

Now, I don't demand praise or feedback for anything I cook, but she usually makes a comment about whatever I make, so I found it odd that she was silent on the matter.

On Friday I went to ask her about something else and while I was talking to her I asked how her dinner was the night before and she said something along the lines of, "it was... interesting. ground chicken just doesn't cook well, it's not your fault. you prepared it well, it's just not that good. ground turkey is better."

No "thank you," no "it was sweet of you to think of me," no "I appreciate the effort especially considering that you're working through the pain right now."

Just meh.

I love when I'm appreciated.

#jumblr #frumblr #shidduch #frum #jewish dating #orthodox #shadchanim #shidduchim #jewish #shadchan #shidduch dating #dating #jewishdating #i am the shidduch crisis

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anotherhumaninthisworld · 2 years

Note

Some info on Simone Évrard? :3

I’m basing the majority of this answer on this great article, so if I’m not citing a source for where I’ve found something, just assume it’s from there.

Simonne was born and baptised on February 6 1764. Here is her baptism record:

Simonne, legitimate daughter of Sr Nicolas Évrard, boat carpenter, and of Dame Catherine Large, her father and mother, was baptized on February 6, 1764 by the vicar of Saint-André, undersigned. The godfather was Sr Jacques Rivaud, and the godmother Dame Simone Rivard who signed with the present father.” Signed: Nicolas Évrard, Jacques Rivaud, Simone Rivard and Fontanel, vicar.

Simonne’s father Nicolas (born May 4 1724) had already been married to one Catherine Baret, with whom he had had a daughter, Philiberte (born February 28 1762). After remarrying Simonne’s mother Catherine Large he had three daughters more, Simonne, Etiennette (born October 4 1766) and Catherine (born September 16 1769). It’s most probable is that they benefited from a certain education at the free school of the hospice of charity of Tournus.

Nicolas Évrard was was a boat worker-carpenter and owned a house located in the P��cherie district, Saint-André parish, on the Quai du Nord, in Tournus. Catherine Large owned a copse in Charne and another piece of land, of little value, five kilometers from Tournus. In 1774, she died, and two years later, on February 18, her husband did as well. Philiberte was 14, Simonne, 12, Etiennette, 10 and Catherine, 7. According to oral tradition, the girls were then sent to Paris where they worked for a lingerie workshop ran by a woman from Tournus. It’s indicated that Etiennette and Catherine, the two youngest sisters, married Antoine Bezancenot, a cook, and Jean-Antoine Corne, a printer, respectively.

A brochure written by Jacques Roux (Jacques Roux à Marat) in response to an attack made by Marat on July 4 1793, reveals both the adress on which Simonne lived on during the revolution, as well as the fact that she lived with two of her sisters (we know one of these was Catherine, the youngest).

You (Marat) must remember that about fifteen months ago you sent Citizen Fainault, sculptor, to my house to ask me to come and speak to you on important business. You were then staying with the three Hevrard (sic) sisters, rue Saint-Honoré, n. 243, opposite the Café Richard, Maison du Pelletier.

That Marat lived at Simonne's home, was also confirmed by Simonne herself during the unsealing of her apartent on July 26, 1793. Here we also learn that Simonne played an active role in the printing and distribution of Marat’s works:

When citizen Marat came to live with her (Simonne), he was in the greatest distress; to help him with the printing and distribution of his newspaper she consumed the greater part of her fortune in order to serve him and stand up for what she believed right.

When it comes to Simonne’s first meeting with Marat (who was 19 years older than her), we only know it happened before January 1 1792. From that date we have this promise written in Marat’s hand:

The fine qualities of Mademoiselle Simonne Évrard having captivated my heart from which she received the homage, I leave her as a pledge of my faith, during the trip I am going to make to London, the sacred commitment to give her my hand immediately after my return; if all my tenderness were not enough for her to guarantee my fidelity, may the oblivion of this commitment cover me with infamy. Paris, 1 January 1792. Jean-Paul Marat, l’ami du peuple

Marat and Simonne were never officially married, just engaged. According to an article in Journal de la Montagne written ten days after Marat’s death — that is to be taken with some grain of salt — the two had had an unofficial wedding ceremony:

Marat, who did not believe that a vain ceremonial was what formed the engagement of the marriage, wishing nevertheless not to alarm the modesty of citoyenne Évard, called her one fine day at the window of his room; clasping his hand in that of his lover, both prostrate before the face of the Supreme Being, "It is in the vast temple of nature," he said to her, "that I take for witness to the eternal fidelity that I swear to you, the Creator who hears us.

Simonne was present when Marat was murdured. In the interrogation of Charlotte Corday, we can read the following:

I arrived at Marat’s in a carriage around eleven or eleven-thirty.

What did you do when you arrived?

I asked to speak with him

You asked to speak with him?

Having asked to see him in his antechamber, two or three women presented themselves and told me that I would not enter. I insisted and one of the women went to tell Marat that a citoyenne wanted to speak with him. He answered that I couldn't enter. I went back home where I returned around noon.

[…]

I went out seven o’clock in the evening to go home to Marat (again).

Did you find him there?

Yes.

Who introduced you?

The same women that had refused me that morning. The women here are Simonne, her sister Catherine and the portress Marie-Barbe Aubain.

Simonne was later called as a witness to Corday’s trial, during which she said the following:

Citoyenne Évrard deposes that the accused presented herself on the morning of July 13, at citizen Marat’s place, where she, deponent, lived; that on the replies that the deputy was ill and could receive no one, she withdrew, murmuring.

The accused interrupts the testimony of the witness, saying: it was I who killed him.

”Citoyenne Évrard (Simonne) testified that the accused appeared on the morning of July 13 at the home of citizen Marat, where she, the deponent, lived; that she wrote a letter which made him receive her on Saturday at 8 o'clock in the evening; that a cry from the chamber where Marat's bathtub was made her come running; she found the accused standing against a curtain in the antechamber, grabbed her by the head and called for neighbors; these neighbors having come, she ran to Marat who looked at her without saying a word; she helped him out of the bath and he expired without uttering a word.”

Other witnesses were also called, many of which reported Marat’s last words to have been a call for help to Simonne:

”Laurent Basse, courier, testifies that being on Saturday, July 15 (sic), at Citizen Marat's house, between seven and eight o'clock in the evening, busy folding newspapers, he saw the accused come, whom citoyenne Évrard and the portress refused entrance. Nevertheless, citizen Marat, who had received a letter from this woman, heard her insist and ordered her to enter, which she did. A few minutes later, on leaving, he heard a cry: Help me, my dear friend, help me! (À moi, ma chere amie, à moi !). Hearing this, having entered the room where citizen Marat was, he saw blood come out of his bosom in great bubbles; at this sight, himself terrified, he cried out for help, and nevertheless, for fear that the woman should make an effort to escape, he barred the door with chairs and struck her in the head with a blow; the owner came and took it out of his hands.

The president challenges the accused to state what she has to answer.

I have nothing to answer, the fact is true.

One listens to another witness.

Jeanne Maréchal, cook, submits the same facts; she adds that Marat, immediately taken from his bathtub and put in his bed, did not stir.

The accused says the fact is true.

One listens to another witness.

Marie-Barbe Aubin, portress of the house where citizen Marat lived, testifies that on the morning of July 13, she saw the accused come to the house and ask to speak to citizen Marat, who answered her that it was impossible to speak to him at the moment, attenuated the state where he had been for some time, so she gave a letter to deliver to him. In the evening she came back again, and insisted on speaking to him. Aubin and citoyenne Évrard refused to let her in; she insisted, and Marat, who had just asked who it was, having learned that it was a woman, ordered her to be let in; which happened immediately. A few moments later, she heard a cry: "Help me, my dear friend (À moi, ma chere amie !);she entered, and saw Marat, blood streaming from his bosom; frightened, she fell to the floor and shouted with all her might: À la garde! Au secours !

The accused says that everything the witness says is the most exact truth.

Catherine Évrard gives the same story as her sister.

Once again, the accused answers that all the facts are true and she has nothing to respond.

As already mentioned, Simonne was present for the removal of seals of her apartment on July 26 1793, two weeks after the murder:

In front of us appeared citoyenne Simonne Évrard, an adult, residing in the apartment where we currently are [30 rue des Cordeliers] who told us and declared that she is the tenant of said apartment which she rents from citizen de Lafondée, that all its furniture and effects belong to her, with the exception of the mirrors and papers that belong to said de Lafondée and the papers, linens and clothes of the deceased Marat. S. Évrard

On 8 August, less than a month after the death of Marat, Simonne presented herself at the Convention and defended his memory, in her eyes hijacked by the Énrages:

”Citizens, you see before you the widow Marat; I do not come to ask you for favors coveted by cupidity or demanded by poverty. The widow Marat needs only a tomb. Before arriving at this happy end of the torments of my life, I come to ask you for justice for the new attacks committed against the memory of the most intrepid and most outraged defender of the people. These watches, how much gold they lavished! How many hypocritical libellists they have paid to cover his name with opprobrium! With what horrible obstinacy they endeavored to give him a colossal political existence, and a hideous celebrity, with the sole view of dishonoring the cause of the people which he faithfully defended; today all covered with his blood; they pursue him to the bosom of the tomb; every day they still dare to assassinate his memory; they strive at will to paint in the features of an interesting heroine the monster who plunged the parricide blade into his bosom. One sees even in this enclosure the most cowardly of all the folliculars, Carra, Ducos, Dulaure, boasting of it shamelessly in their periodical pamphlets, to encourage their equals to cut the throats of the rest of the defenders of liberty. I am not speaking of that vile Pétion who, at Caen, in the assembly of his accomplices, dared to say, on this occasion, that the assassination was a virtue.

Sometimes the villainous perfidy of the conspirators, pretending to pay homage to his civic virtues, multiplies at great expense infamous engravings, where the execrable assassin is presented under favorable features, and the martyr of the fatherland, disfigured by the most horrible convulsions. But here is the most perfidious of their maneuvers: they have bribed Scelerais writers who impudently usurp his name, and disfigure his principles, to perpetuate the empire of calumny of which he was the victim. The cowards, they flatter first the pain of the people by their praise; they trace some true pictures of the evils of the country; they denounce some traitors dedicated to its contempt; they speak the language of patriotism and morality, so that the people believe they still hear Marat; but it is only to defame afterwards the most zealous defenders whom the patrie has preserved; it is to preach, in the name of Marat, extravagant maxims that his enemies have attributed to him, and that all his conduct disavows.

I denounce to you in particular two men, Jacques Roux and the named Leclerc who claim to continue his patriotic sheets, and to make his shadow speak to outrage his memory and deceive the people: it is there that after having debited revolutionary common places, the people are told that they must proscribe all kinds of government; it is there that we order in his name to bloody the day of August 10, because from his sensitive soul, torn by the spectacle of the crimes of tyranny and the misfortunes of humanity, just anathemas have sometimes come out against public leeches, and against the oppressors of the people; they seek to perpetuate after his death the parricidal calumny which persecuted him, and presented him as a foolish apostle of disorder and anarchy.

And who are these men who claim to replace him? It is a priest wh, the very day after the day when the faithful deputies triumphed over their cowardly enemies, came to insult the National Convention by a perfidious and seditious address: it is another man, no less perverse, associated with the mercenary furies of this impostor.

What is quite remarkable is that these two men are the same as those who were denounced by Marat, a few days before his death, at the Cordeliers club, as people paid by our enemies to disturb the public tranquility, and who, in the same sitting, were solemnly driven from the bosom of this popular society. What is the purpose of the treacherous faction that continues these criminal plots? It is to debase the people who pay homage to the memory of him who died for his cause; it is to defame all the friends of the country, whom she has designated under the name of Maratists; it is to mislead perhaps all the Frenchmen of the entire Republic, who gather for the meeting of August 10, by presenting to them the perfidious writings of which I speak, like the doctrine of the representative of the people whom they slaughtered; it is perhaps to disturb these solemn days by some disastrous catastrophe.

Gods! what would be the destiny of the people, if such men could usurp their confidence! What is the deplorable condition of its intrepid defenders, if death itself cannot save them from the rage of their assassins! Legislators, how long will you allow crime to insult virtue? Whence comes to the emissaries of England and Austria this strange privilege of poisoning public opinion, of devoting the defenders of our laws to daggers, and of undermining the foundations of our nascent Republic? If you leave them unpunished, I denounce them here to the French people, to the universe. The memory of the martyrs of freedom is the patrimony of the people: that of Marat is the only good that remains to me; I dedicate to his defense the last days of a languid life. Legislators, avenge the fatherland, honesty, misfortune and virtue, by striking down the most cowardly of all their enemies.”

A few days after the speech, August 22 1793, Marat’s siblings signed the following decree:

We therefore declare that it is with satisfaction that we fulfill the wishes of our brother by recognizing citoyenne Évrard as our sister, and that we will hold as infamous those of her family members who does not share the feelings of esteem and gratitude that we owe her, and if against our expectation there could be some, we ask that their names be known, as we do not want to share their infamy. Written in Paris, August 22, second year of the republic. Marie-Anne Mara (sic) f. Oliver Albertine Mara (sic) Jean-Pierre Mara (sic)

In her Réponse aux détracteurs de l’Ami du Peuple (1793) Albertine Marat also wrote the following regarding Simonne:

Finding no recourse except in the poor, he would have succumbed to his misfortunes. People, your good genius decided otherwise: he allowed a divine woman, whose soul resembled his own, to consecrate her fortune and her rest to keep you your friend. Heroic woman, receive the homage your virtues deserve: yes, we owe it to you. Inflamed with the divine fire of freedom, you wanted to preserve its most ardent defender. You shared his fate and his tribulations: nothing can stop your zeal, you sacrifice to the Friend of the People, and the fear of your family, and the prejudices of your century. Forced here to circumscribe myself, I would wait for the moment when your virtues will appear in all their brilliance.

Both this extract and the decree cited before would imply that someone(s) in Simonne’s family didn’t appriciate her attachment to Marat/the revolution, although I’ve not found more info regarding it.

On September 15 1794, Robert Lindet, by then president of the committee of public intruction, wrote to Simonne asking her opinion on a republication of Marat’s works — ”Write as soon as possible and make known to what extent you can contribute to the requested edition of the works of Marat. This enterprise must be executed in a way that honors the author and the nation equally.”

But Simonne rejected this invitation, answering in November the same year that she did not want to entrust anyone but herself with this duty. The 15 volumes of Oeuvres politiques de Marat were indeed published with Simonne as the editor. A reedition of Marat’s 1790 work Plan de législation criminelle was also published, but after this the revolution took a swing to the right, during which it no longer needed Marat as a martyr. On February 22 1795 the republishing of his works was ordered to be interrupted.

Simonne spent the rest of her life together with the four years older Albertine Marat, whose attachment to her is confirmed not only via what she wrote in Réponse aux détracteurs… but by M. Goupil-Louvigny as well:

I have reason to believe that the widow Marat was not an ordinary woman, because her sister-in-law spoke to me about her with enthusiasm. Albertine religiously kept all that had belonged to her. I was personally charged in the last years of her life, when necessity compelled her to do so, to sell various objects and clothes which came from her, which were of a certain elegance and of great distinction.

The two sister-in-laws at first settled on Rue Saint-Jacques, as revealed through an interrogation of Simonne held December 30 1800:

Your name, your adress, your means of living?

I’m 36 years old, I have a pension, I live with my sister on rue Saint-Jacques, n 674, division of Thermes.

Why have you been arrested?

I don’t know.

Where were you on 3 nivôse (December 24)?

I was at my place the whole day

Who was it you received at your place?

Nobody.

You did however have company in the evening, one saw some people sitting at a table lighted up by three candles.

I soaped the whole day, I wasn’t finished until nine in the evening. My sister had only her lamp, she works at the horology. I only went out to buy a bottle of wine, and I supped with my sister. I haven’t received three people in one décade.

Who are the people you have been seeing since one month?

We only see citoyen Ranus, a watchmaker who lives on rue de la Barillerie who provides work for my sister. There came a citizen from our country who’s name I don’t remember.

Who are your neighbors?

Citoyen Digard, baker and owner, the rest of the house is inhabitated by women.

By refusing to name the people you’re receiving, you make it sound like you’re receiving enemies of the government.

I’ve told you the exact truth. I haven’t received anyone, because I find myself in great distress.

The commissioner sends her off, the case had no consequences.

Simonne and Albertine eventually moved from rue Saint-Jacques to Rue de la Barillerie n. 33 (today boulevard du Palais), where they stayed up until their deaths in 1824 and 1841 respectively. In 1847, a neighbor gave the following details regarding their stay there (cited in Marat et ses calomniateurs ou Réfutation de l’Histoire des Girondins de Lamartine (1847) by Constant Hilbe):

-[Albertine] was not happy, and she died in great destitution.

-I was told that her sister-in-law, Madame Marat, lived with her.

-Yes, Madame, she died here.

-What kind of woman was she?

-Oh ! Madame, she was an excellent woman. You know, we called her Madame Marat, but she was not his wife, she was his maid. However, I assure you that she did not look like a maid; she was very distinguished; she never spoke to anyone. This poor woman died after falling down the stairs.

-Was she beautiful?

-Beautiful!…she was very good (très bien)! she was angelically sweet.

-Did they work for a living?

-Madame Marat did not work. Mademoiselle Marat made watch hands; she even made some for my brother and my godfather. Madame Marat took care of the home.

-Did they stay in this house for a long time?

-Mademoiselle Marat stayed here for about forty years; her sister died long before her. This is how they came here: they had rented under the name of the demoiselles Albertine. One day, there is a knock on our door, my mother goes to open it, the person on the other side asks for Mademoiselle Marat. I will not hide from you, Madame, that my mother had a horror of this name Marat, who had caused so many people to be guillotined... My mother received the person very badly and told him that there was no tenant of this name in the house. The person insisted and described what the two ladies were like. Yes, said my mother, we have two people like those you describe to me, but they are the demoiselles Albertine; they live on the fourth floor above the mezzanine, the door on the right. The next day, my mother called the grocer from downstairs: “What is this,” she said, “so we have Marats in our apartment? you rented to the demoiselles Marat!!!” — “But no, Madame, I rented to the demoiselles Albertines” Later, as they were very quiet people, we greeted them in the stairwell. My father and my godfather gave them work, but they didn't speak to each other. […] [Albertine] had a portrait of Marat by David, she also had a portrait of Madame Marat that was very pretty. She often told me: ”I shall burn this portrait.” - ”Oh, mademoiselle Marat, that would be unfortunate, it’s so good!” - ”To who do you want me to give this…?”

-Do you know if she burned it?

-I don’t know, but I think so, because when she said she would do something, she did it.

We have some descriptions of Simonne’s apperence. An official minute from 1792, shortly after Marat’s death, affirmed the following: “Height: 1m, 62, brown hair and eyebrows, ordinary forehead, aquiline nose, brown eyes, large mouth, oval face.” The minute for her interrogation instead say: “grey eyes, average mouth.”

Finally, we have the following anecdote told by doctor Joseph-Souberbielle:

In the year 1820 I was often called in to attend a woman who was known in the house where she lived as the widow Marat. I am convinced she was only Marat's mistress. She told me in confidence that, since the Restoration, she had been met with such cruel treatment at the hands of the neighbours that she intended to migrate to another part of the town and change her name. She was extremely plain and could never have had any good looks. She assured me that in the whole course of her "married life" Marat had never given her a single cause for contempt; that he had all gentleness and consideration in his home relations, but his fanaticism was so intense that he would cheerfully have sacrificed his life to bring about the triumph of his ideals. I know nothing more of the woman.

Like in the case of Gabrielle and Louise-Sébastienne, I found texts about Simonne that listed more details regarding her (1, 2, 3, 4), but once again, I don’t know if those details are actually legit or just embellishments, since the authors don’t cite any sources.

There actually exists a full biography on Simonne, but 1, I couldn’t find it online for free, and 2, it’s written in Italian which I don’t know a word of.

#stupid tumblr wouldn’t let me post Simonne’s speech as one big paragraph #Simonne évard #marat #jean-Paul marat #albertine marat #albertine and simonne were basically the anti charlotte and éleonore #frev #ask

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disease-danger-darkness-silence · 9 months

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I'm rereading the Meet Death Sitting series by @bomberqueen17 because I never read the side stories and, let me tell you, it is surreal remembering that a lot of these were written during the early days of the 2020 part of the COVID pandemic. It took me back. I was so scared during those days, and angry.

When the lockdown went into effect (and Nevada was one of the first ones to implement it), my sister was in prison for a nonviolent, first-time offense: embezzling from a multi-billion dollar international gaming company. So... Unjustifiably, imo. I think theft crimes should be weighted by who you stole from and how much it effected them. And frankly, they weren't paying her enough to survive on, and she supervised TWO sports books.

She got sentenced in January and for some reason couldn't appeal, and then lockdown happened in March.

They were doing NOTHING for the prisoners.

She was in the Las Vegas prison doing hard labor in 125°+ weather and they weren't even providing a decent amount of calories to eat each day, let alone masks and hand sanitizer. She lost 100 lbs in prison, in a deeply unhealthy way.

A woman with a mental instability smuggled in a razor blade that she would hold in her cheek, next to her teeth, and when Ashley reported it, they did nothing. Ashley got transferred to a different bloc at some point because she was going to be doing food service work (she has a culinary education), but someone did get hurt by that woman. No consequences came for any of the COs (correction officers) or the warden.

Oh, and then they yanked Ash out of food prep and into heavy labor. Not sure why, because we got her records and there's no citations or anything on there. They just did it. I'm PERSONALLY assuming it's because I was calling daily demanding to talk to the warden or the supervisor on duty to demand better treatment. FFS, they were feeding them grade B, not fit for human consumption food. I was calling everyone I could think of and generally making a nuisance of myself, during a global pandemic, and while advocating for Ashley I also began advocating for her fellow prisoners. I wrote to the governor. I wrote to the Nevada Department of Corrections. I spent 8 hours a day harassing state officials (and politely talking to state workers who don't get paid enough for this shit), and I'm pretty sure her getting hard labor was punishment for her daring to have someone on the outside willing to make life a living hell for themselves and others for her.

We all nearly bankrupted ourselves keeping money on her books so she could buy extra food and special soap because she has a skin condition and they just give you harsh lye soap (no shampoo, no conditioner) at the Florence McClure Women's Correctional Center. She has an IUD that stops her periods so luckily she didn't need tampons the whole time she was there, because they ration them and if you need more, you'd better have some money to buy shitty dollar store ones at Target prices! (IIRC Ashley took her allotment and shared them around.)

We illegalized private prisons in Nevada a few years back but they acted like they still were one. You had to work or you couldn't apply for parole. They sold dollar store products at a massive markup. They didn't give her medical care for all but the last month or two she was there, and that meant she didn't have her ANTIDEPRESSANTS for most of the time. She was suicidal and depressed and anxious and most of all, she missed her daughter - my niece, who got displaced to live with my sister's ex-husband, who is an alcoholic, abusive bastard who supports Trump and used to make Ashley set an alarm on her phone so he'd remember when to beat her. That's who my niece had to go live with. He was mostly sober by then, but she was clearly miserable and every time she came to stay with Mom for visitation, she didn't want to go back.

Ashley spent 10 months in there before getting parole in mid October of 2020 - for a first-time embezzling offense that was the equivalent of stealing $5 or $10 from someone in the middle class. (Also adding, the Gaming Board DID NOT ASK for imprisonment, they wanted her on probation so she could get a job and do restitution. The guy who talked her into it? The abuser who found a domestic violence victim and manipulated her? He got probation, and it was his fourth gaming offense.)

The entire time, I was organizing book drives and fundraisers and harassing state officials to do something - some of you remember this, because some of you helped by sending her books and money, and I still cannot thank you enough. To this day, I go to bed every night thankful for you all.

But I was spending my daylight hours, and a lot of my nighttime hours, trying to fight for her. Her voice wasn't being heard so I would damn well amplify it.

A lot of the women there shouldn't have been. Nonviolent drug offenses that clearly needed psychiatric care and not imprisonment. A woman who killed her husband in self defense, caught on tape, but still imprisoned. Another woman who's boyfriend was dealing meth and she got the guilt by association thing - never came up dirty, complied in every way, and they threw the book at her. Prison should be for 1st and 2nd degree murderers, rapists, violent abusers, torturers, organized criminals, people who molest and groom children. Not these women. It was heartbreaking. I knew it was bad, but now I had secondhand experience and I would never wish that on anyone but the most heinous of human beings.

I had nightmares almost every night that Ashley would catch COVID and die, or that she'd figure out a way to kill herself. I didn't wake Raven (my partner, for those who may have forgotten) when I had them. I just read a little bit of fic, and then cried myself back to sleep.

_____________

I don't know that I ever thanked @bomberqueen17. She's been through a lot the last few years (including something I can empathize with - a parent death. I miss my dad terribly. It's been 7 and a half years and I still feel his loss). But... I never thanked her for getting me through 2020 in mostly one piece.

It was her fics that I read when I woke up after a nightmare. It was her fics that I read in the mornings as I woke up, drank coffee or an energy drink, and got my day started to begin campaigning against Nevada's DOC. It was her fics that calmed me down in between calls and it was her fics I read to keep from crying when my sister called me. I'd read excerpts to her (she hadn't seen the Witcher yet but she still laughed at the right spots) and I'd try to keep her cheered up by telling her about fandom stuff.

Like yes, I read other fics and authors. But it was her fics that made a difference and, I think, are the reason Ashley and I were fortified enough to fight for her rights.

So.... A very belated thank you, @bomberqueen17. I don't know that I could have survived that, in addition to everything else 2020 threw at us, without your writing.

Also thank you for this very succinct explanation of why significant age gaps can sometimes present a problem, in a way that isn't denigrating to those with youth. I've been trying to explain it to my 23-year-old for years, and others, but now I will just use this.

You're the best. I can't wait to read the rest of the series.

#long post #prison #prison industrial complex #Systemic prison abuse #Fanfic as therapy

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the-unforgotten · 7 months

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what im reading

book number 7 of the year is Womb City by Tlotlo Tsamaase

at the time of writing im about 30% through the book.

how I found it

good reads giveaway specifically the scifi tag. I entered back in December didn't win but the book seemed interesting enough that I put it on my notify list in libby. it just came out at the end of january

i did read the summary blurb so I did know where the story was generally headed even if I didnt fully remember that when I started reading it this week.

im doing combination ebook read and audio book listen via libby

that narrator adds so much character to the story as well as getting rid of a pronunciation barrier id have with the names and settings.

what I remembered from the blurb was that theres gonna be a murder.

story so far

so in a futuristic africa the story follows the main character nelah and her life as she navigates that pitfalls of the society she lives in. some things about this futuristic setting

ones consciousness can be swapped between physical bodies

you can have multiple lifetimes. you live out your life then at the end of it decided to do another life in another body

crime is heavily decreased by some minority report esque government and religious endeavor

bodies that have been used by criminals are reused but micro chipped which records videos the bodies surroundings as well as paralyzing the body if its in the process of committing crime.

nelah inhabits one of these microchipped bodies and has since about 18.

she is now married and has a architectural firm and a police husband. they want kids but come to find out this body is also infertile.

if it wasnt obvious by the title parenting childrearing and related things are very important to this story.

oh and to top it off the body has a bionic arm.

nelah and her husband are not have a good time theres fucked up power dynamics out the wazoo

he is not chipped and as nelah notes most men are not. she at one point made more money than him. and them not having a kid yet is hurting his chances for a promotion. and a big one is he gets to watch the footage of her microchip as it uploads so no privacy

theres a lot of interesting world building like you can choose to integrate into the family of the body you are in or abandon them. in some cases you might remember past lives tho this seems to be a privilege awarded to the rich and connected most people forget. and a god is said to be resting under the city which is why the crime predicting stuff can happen.

my current issue is that the characters keep railing against the world they live in.

for example nelah pulled a knife on her body brother during an argument and wasnt zapped to stop

nelah lighty and more so the people she is in conversation with dont really believe in the folklore or religion of the area.

also in the story theres still wealth disparity corrupt and good old fashioned sexism.

so a we are following along with nelah we learn she has had an affair. has already gone through multiple miscarriages. multiple rounds of ivf. her business is failing. her body family is keeping an inheritance from her.

her an hubby decided that the next step should be an external artificial womb which costs them hella money they dont really have.

the next obstacle is nelahs government evaluation where they minority report test her to see if her body is eligible to be unchipped or I'd she needs counseling that could ultimately result in her being needed back to the consciousness waiting room as her body has to be scrapped.

it unfortunately does not go well. they ping the altercation with her brother and a possible future incident with her losing a child thats not hers. they pretend to let her go but actully keep her in a simulation that is a set up for her to steal a unattened child. and sure enough she does and is gonna be hauled off to mind jail but her husband intercepts and gets her set free.

this is where it starts getting bonkers. with all the stakes at hand she starts acting reckless for some reason??

she gets back with her affair partner and even escalates what they do together from just talk to drug feuled sex. which is wild bc even if her husband wasnt looking at her memories he still found out about the affair from coworkers. she turns down a major business deal for her firm even tho her employees are receiving half pay at the moment.

the affair might not be a crime but it would tank her and her husbands already bad public image and put their jobs in jeopardy which means she wouldnt be able to pay for her daughters womb so the gov would take growing baby for their body hopping supply.

and the drugs def a crime?? but also not zapping her??

so then her affair partner is like her babe I got this thing to hack your microchip so we can do even more crazy stuff and she is like idk seems risky.

she gives in and then he is all like ditch ur husband and get with me ill treat u right

and she is like idk i could be jumping from one bad situation to another and he is powerful its best not to slight him.

her affair partner is like no me and my family we are more powerful I can illegally get you a new body if you want. I can get your hubby demoted or promoted. I can stop the gov from takin ur baby.

side note the business deal she turned down was made by her affair partners dad. she turned it down bc he had rape allegations against him and used his influence to make them go away.

so the stakes are high af and the characters are messy af and I havent even gotten to the murder part of the plot ?!?!?

curious to see how tf its gonna get there and what mess the characters will make.

#seagoat says shit #seagoat reads things #Womb City #Tlotlo Tsamaase #womb city tlotlo tsamaase

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redcarpetview · 2 years

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Official Statement Regarding The Passing Of Kevin Lemons

Photo courtesy of JP Designs Art | Brand Agency.

It is with deep sadness that we join the family of Kevin Lemons in announcing his transition January 7, 2023. Kevin Lemons was not only an extraordinary, highly respected songwriter, artist and choir director, he was a devoted and loving husband, a trusted leader of his music ministry and a pillar of gospel music’s vital choir scene.

Details about memorial services will be announced soon.

Bishop Hezekiah Walker is heartbroken, saying “Kevin Lemons was one of the kindest, most humble artists that I know, even though his gift and talents were enormous. His love for God seasoned everything that he did, and his palpable love for people was an extension of that. Kevin Lemons was just a beautiful human being and he will be sorely missed.”

Kevin Lemons. Media image.

Lemons’ HezHouse Entertainment labelmates are also devastated by his sudden passing:

Vincent Bohanan says: “I am in total disbelief concerning the untimely transition of my labelmate Kevin Lemons. Kevin has been a light in the gospel community for many years. His stance, leadership and command over the choir was like none other. There are many things in life we may not understand, but we trust the sovereignty of God. My prayers are with the family and Higher Calling. The Gospel Choir community will forever remember the life and legacy of Kevin Lemons.”

Mark Hubbard says: “My heart is broken! You were more than just my labelmate. You considered me to be your uncle, and one of the mentors that you grew up listening to in the industry. I (we) will miss you in the physical, but your impact, legacy, and spirit will live on forever in our hearts. My Prayers are with Lady T, the family, and Higher Calling. Rest Well Nephew.”

Patrick Riddick says: “My heart is heavy and full of sadness. From the moment the phone call came in, until now, I have been speechless. Maestro Kevin was our Thomas Whitfield and made up a third of OUR generation's Brat Pack. Our friendship was so genuine, we would challenge one another musically and share our unfiltered thoughts/critiques of each other in a way that only we could. The brotherhood went beyond music; we held each other accountable and integral. I am going to miss my brother. I am praying for Lady T, Higher Calling and every friend, artist, and colleague who will feel the impact of this loss.”

Kevin Lemons. Media Image.

Kevin Lemons was the founder and director of the extraordinary chorale Higher Calling, who will have been together 27 years this year. Their most recent recording, Third Round, garnered Dove and Stellar Gospel Music Award nominations as well as robust acclaim at radio and on social media. Their breakout single, "For Your Good," accumulated over 100,000 streams and reached #3 on the Billboard Gospel Digital Sales Chart. Additionally, Lemons served as the vocal director for the celebrated Netflix film Come Sunday.

“Lemons’ passing is a huge loss for the gospel music industry,” says Bishop Hezekiah Walker. “We are keeping Kevin’s wife of 15 years, Tiunna Lemons, in our heartfelt prayers, along with his family, extended family, members of Higher Calling and all those who knew and loved Kevin Lemons.”

Kevin Lemons & Higher Calling was founded when Kevin and a group of young singers came together for a special music event created by Kevin’s father, Wilbert Lemons. Kevin’s father was the director of the historic Atlanta Masonic Choir, which was founded by Kevin’s grandmother Annie Ruth Lemons. The group enjoyed singing together so much that they decided to stay together. Kevin Lemons & Higher Calling became a 100-member ensemble with 50 Atlanta-based singers and 50 additional singers from California, Virginia, the DMV area, New York, New Orleans, Texas, North Carolina, Florida and Alabama.

Kevin Lemons & Higher Calling have taken their mesmerizing vocals and energetic performances to stages around the world. They have recorded three albums: Their first album, Destined for Greatness, was released to critical acclaim; its title track caught the attention of choir maestro Ricky Dillard, who later recorded it with his ensemble New Generation.

Their second album, The Declaration, peaked at #10 on Billboard’s Gospel Albums Chart. Their third album, Third Round, was released in 2021 and featured the breakout single “For Your Good.” Kevin Lemons & Higher Calling is a staple in Gospel music, and have performed with Gospel greats including Kirk Franklin, Bebe Winans, Donald Lawrence and Hezekiah Walker.

Lemons was vocal director for the celebrated film Come Sunday, and has been the choir director for How Sweet the Sound and BET’s Sunday Best.

# # #

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jbmymusic · 24 days

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THE "LOST" ALBUM - "JERSEY"

Okay, so I decided tonight to reinstall Nero Cover Designer, so I could recover the album covers without having to rebuild them. You know, that program we used in the physical media days.

In my files, I found a folder called "The Lost Jersey Album". Inside was the cover that was originally intended, the songs, and liner notes I wrote in 2015, which in turn sparked a ton of memories, of where I was in 2002-03, when it was recorded, to 2005, when I realized the masters were gone, to 2015, when I found demos of every song and organized it all, to 2016 and why it went again to the back burner.

Let's start with the 2015 liner notes to set the mood...

"So, way back in 2002, immediately after the release of 'Everything Happens', I started work on a second album as an immediate follow-up. Encouraged to do it by my then-manager Jeremy Knapp, I busted out an album of songs I had written during the 'Everything Happens' writing period that I ran out of time to record."

That's NOT entirely factual; one song was from high school. Anywho...

"We finished the master recordings of what was to be called "Jersey" in January of 2003. Then life happened..."

Life happened: a 2 year relationship ended. Then I fell HARD for someone else that fucked my world up, I had my own issues going on. Basically, I took a 2 year sabbatical from the entire area. Met some new people, wrote new music, grew up a bit. To continue...

"Fast forward to 2005...back in Petoskey. I set about to release 'Jersey', only to discover the matter recordings were GONE. The case that held them, and the track listing were in my vault of recordings, but the actual masters had disappeared."

This I'm pretty certain I KNOW what happened. Remember that relationship that had ended I previously mentioned? We still lived in the same place - damn slumlord - so she got pissed off when I fell hard for someone else. When I left, she took a lot of my things -supposedly to my mother's. When I returned, half my stuff wasn't there. I mean PERSONAL things, like Christmas ornaments my great-grandmother made, my teddy bear from when I was a baby. There were other things missing as well, just normal things I knew I owned.

How do I know it was her? In 2016, a mutual female friend was helping her move and she came across a box of things that were mine. The ex-girlfriend said she was going to burn.it all...and got a black eye from the mutual friend, who forced her to bring it to me at her house. No tapes though; my guess is she mistook a few songs to be about that person I fell for. Okay, ADHD button off...

"That time in my life had passed anyway, so I just skipped it and went on to the songs I had written in the two years, which became the 'Unanesthetically Torn-Out Heart' album. I never looked back...until 2015."

HAHAHAHAHA! Little did I know...

"In 2015, I discovered the demos for "The Lost Album", as it became to be called. It brought back a lot of memories, and a lot of yearning to complete it. So in the summer of 2015, I started working on new recordings of the songs, revisiting that era one last time."

'...one last time' MY ASS! IT'S STILL HERE!

I can tell you what happened there: ONE song got done. "Don't Say It's Over (feat. Marlowe Meade)" was finished. Then my "mother" FINALLY, after decades of begging, told me my biological father's name. I was working at my day job 6 days a week, plus being a husband and dad. That left zero time to work further on "Jersey", as I went to try and hunt down my pop.

I tracked him down. He had passed in August of 2015.

Needless to say, there was a bunch of mixed emotions. Happiness that I met the rest of my family, hatred towards my "mother" and her parents, and bitterness at myself for not just dropping everything when she told me his name in June of 2015. 10 weeks. I could have had 10 weeks.

I started writing like mad. I forgot about "Jersey". "Don't Say It's Over (feat. Marlowe Meade)" still went on the next album - it was too damn good of a song to NOT use, but everything else was cast aside, yet again.

LOL. So here's the INTENDED track list in 2003:

Anymore

Addiction

Black Widow

Better Think Again

Don't Say It's Over (feat. Marlowe Meade)

The Love Is Gone

Losing It All

Why Do I

Lies, Lies, Lies

I Cried

Goodbyes & Sorrows

There's a few I might just cut still. "Addiction" was the one from high school and has been rewritten at least 5 times since, but I'm not as fond as I was (long story for another night). "Losing It All" has a better version now. I think "Better Think Again" does as well. "Why Do I" and "Lies, Lies, Lies" will probably go poof. I think "Lies..." might even have been from a batch in high school, come to think of it. Even still, ALL would need to be recorded...again.

Maybe I should just take the best of the rest and use them now. Maybe I should just trash it all, even though every ten years they rear their heads like a Michigan Dogman.

Oh, yeah, one more thing. The cover of Jersey? Yeah, that's the profile pic on here, but in full B&W. Some things just won't go away...

#acoustic #new music #singer songwriter #Lost Album #tumblr polls #old music

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indigo474 · 1 year

Text

July 3rd- Discovery-

What a day- I'm nervous about being late to work on Wed- the person i report to is MIA, I sent an email but haven't heard back. I mention to another super that i am going to be late she says oh that s fine- the perks of being a super. I get an email from my divisions field service manager- Doug- a nice guy, i met him before saying he is getting multiple calls a day where the person isnt saying anything on the phone, just letting his voice mail pick up and all he hears is typing and breathing and he asks me if i can make it stop- he sends me a call.. a few minutes later he sends another call and another. i put his number in the system and see a guy from another department has called him 7 times before noon. weird. i call this guys super and tell her and she says she will talk to him. I tell Doug its handled but if it happens again to let me know. Done- but then i say to myself why not look at yesterday-- really weird- 50 calls in one day- so then i look for the month of June- thousands of calls- thousands- like all this guy is doing all day every day is calling Doug and NOT leaving messages, just letting the voice mail pick up and either hanging up or sometimes letter in record for a few minutes. i keep looking and looking and i go back to January and same thing page after page of this guy call Doug... i remember i sat with this guy and he actually told me how much he hated Doug- hated him.. at the time i was just doing my rounds and didn't think anything of it- until today. this is abnormal behavior. So i google his name and holy shit the guy is a fucking psycho.. felony terrorist charges- he's fucking crazy. I have to meet with my manager sometime this week- HIS manager just thinks it happened today and went over with him the importance of leaving a message- she has no idea the obsession his guy has with Doug- its creepy. Like, dude your supposed to be working.

I get a call from Mads friend saying she wants to come home from the shore- i'm in work and he calls me on my cellphone- I told her not to go. she wanted me to come pick her up-oh hell no. i told him to tell her to take an Uber if she wants to come home. I know she can afford it. She;s toxic and treats him like shit. she never has anything nice to say about him and regardless of what he does or doesnt do he doesnt deserve to be treated the way she treats him. its awful and i told him today he needs some self respect and no one should treat him they way she does. i tell her the same thing- leave him alone he doesnt deserve to be treated that way.

I thought of my friend today and all the things we did over the weekend. things got pretty wild and yeah- i enjoyed every minute of it- he promised to kiss me all over and he did sunday morning and i really really enjoyed it - we had to get a shower and wash up from the sex we were having so we could have more sex- after about 4 hours i had to tell him i needed a break- it was insane and he tried so hard to make me come and dam i wish i brought my toys.. i think he went for about 6 hours and when he finally came it was like a religious experience and he kept saying sorry? same thing on sunday we fucked for hours and again sorry sorry- i think he was saying it because i didn't get off.. or i could be wrong. i have no idea. yesterday was a day of recovery for me.. we did some dirty nasty things to each other and i enjoyed it.

2 things i'm glad i don't have

small children

a husband

0 notes

gucciwins · 2 years

Text

His Story

harry has a story he is finally ready to share

Word count: 13,782

A/N: hi friends! this story I got the idea for in January and it took me forever to finish. it's different from what I usually write so go easy on me. I'd love to hear your feedback. and remember that I love you

_____

Harry Styles - The Rockstar has been loved by all. Not a single person could miss him as he had sold out tours from his days in One Direction to when he went solo. Styles started in small venues and has now built up to stadiums. Styles could be doing stadiums on every tour run, but he always seems to have new surprises up his sleeves. Styles’ biggest reminder is to his fans that he would not be where he was today without them.

And that is why many people continue to love Harry Styles because it is not only about him but the fans around him.

Today’s story is not about the rockstar. No, it’s about the father and husband that he has been for the last twenty years and not a single soul knew about (except his family and close team.)

Today on his twentieth wedding anniversary (a few days after), Styles is here, ready to share a story that no one could ever believe. How he created a family with no hint from the media? Well, we’ll find out together.

At twenty-five, Styles became a father to twins Milan (17) and Siena (17). At twenty-eight, he became a father of four. Another set of twins. Edin (14) and Camden (14). But the most important date to Styles that changed his life is that at twenty-three, he married the love of his life.

The question is, how did Styles hide a marriage and family for so long? Well, he can thank his wife. Everyone knows her name, no need for me to say it. She has not left the news since Harry dropped a wedding photo on his Instagram that had not been used in a few months since his last tour ended three months ago.

Fans thought it was an album announcement, but to their shock, it was a wedding announcement. Styles left a trail of broken hearts, except everyone knew he was off the market, just never with who. Her face is always hidden, and we admire him for that.

He decided to share because he lost a bet with his children. Styles has let me disclose that it included his wife and how much money she would spend if he got her the right kind of mad. His children were adamant she wouldn’t touch a dime, and Harry was sure they’d be thousands short.

His children won, and Harry slept on the couch for the night. Or so he says.

There is not a single image of his children online, and he says it will stay that way until they decide. And well, the Styles children do love secrets just like their father. Styles shared that growing up not involved in that world allowed them to see their father differently. They’d seen him on stage countless times, but no one would ever see the father who stayed up to finish the last-minute science project because someone forgot to mention it or bake different types of cookies because his daughter wanted to enter a bake sale and only reminded them three nights before.

It’s safe to say we know the rockstar and not the father, although few have had the pleasure of having him as both.

The interview is taking place in Styles’ estate. There was a coded security and triple identification check before I was let in. Not that I minded, not one bit. I was about to do the interview of my life.

Exiting my car, I grabbed my leather bag that had seen better days, ensuring my recorder and notepad were inside, and a few different pens were.

As I walked to the door, I tried my best to calm my nerves, I knocked on the door, and to my surprise, Mr. Styles answered. He was dressed in casual (expensive in my eyes) white linen pants with a few paint stains that were not noticeable at first glance. His top was a lovely yellow Bode button-up we saw him wear while filming “Don’t Worry Darling.” Styles’ hair was styled to perfection, and it left me wondering if he did it himself or if his management had him bring in a stylist knowing the article would be privileged one photo, and I was hoping we’d score one with his wife, but alone would work as well.

We’d have to wait and see (unless you scroll to the bottom or flip the page, you’ll see.)

Styles welcomed me, and to my surprise, there was not a single soul around. We heard tinkering in the kitchen as he led me to the living room, stating it was just his manager. I was taking it all in; the house was well taken care of but was lived in if the small dent on the door had any say. It didn’t have an empty feeling. There was a table by the entrance for keys and a fresh vase of hydrangeas blooming as if just picked from the ground. I looked a little closer, and it seemed there was a chip on the top of the vase. I didn’t dare ask but knew that it had a story.

Walking into the living room, it was spacious with lots of room to sit and walk around. The first thing that caught my attention was a large mahogany bookcase that seemed to have been refurbished as part of the wall. There were an endless amount of books. It was organized in a way I didn’t understand. It wasn’t colored, it had to be authors, or by the look of the top row by the year it was published.

On the velvet green couch that was calling for someone to sink into were two cats on a creme blanket. The all-black cat with one white boot was dozing on the blanket as the other orange, and dotted white nose was on the arm gazing at me, sizing me up, I assumed, until it rolled over, no longer finding me of interest.

There was a large dog bed by the bookcase. I assumed they must have been running around. I secretly hoped it would make an appearance.

As Mr. Styles offered me a seat, he settled on the couch with the cats, running a ringed hang over one, and I watched it stretch out, never opening its eyes. I sat in a love seat diagonal to him, and that’s when I caught sight of the most beautiful backyard view with French patio doors. There were flowers in full bloom as well. A rocking chair that seemed to fit two people had knitting supplies next to them, and I could only assume the couple spent lots of time there.

Styles was very welcoming, asking me how I was and if I found the drive okay. He was easy to converse with, as if we were old friends just catching up. I expressed how much I enjoyed his last tour and how creative it had been with the stage stating it was great to see the band together.

He joked, saying it was Sarah Jones’ band even now, stating that Mitch Rowland wouldn’t leave him alone.

We segued into his life and if he was ready to share the story.

Personally, I was excited.

Professionally, I was calm and ready to listen.

Now here is Styles to tell you his story.

Please note that I got to hear it in person while you, the reader, get a written copy. There are some winners in life, and I’m glad to be one of them.

I can’t believe I’m telling the story–

As Styles is speaking, a woman with beautiful hair that rivaled anyone I knew and clothing that looked new yet well-loved adorned her body. (I would come to learn she was wearing a custom Dior. Her husband liked supplying her with the best even if she fought him on it and lost.) She set tea and water on the coffee table scattered with different poem books, many even I hadn’t heard of.

She smiles politely before looking at her husband, “thought you’d both like something to drink. Know you like to talk.”

I see Styles’ gaze soften as she takes him in. Styles reaches for her hand, placing a kiss on her palm before leaning into her hand. “Thank you, my heart.”

She tries to hide her flush, but I see it. It’s as clear as day how in love they are.

Twenty years and it’s like they are the only two people in the world.

“Hello, a pleasure to meet you.” I address her politely.

“You as well.”

“We have it on record you’re Dr. Styles.”

“Correct.” She confirms.

“Is that how you’d like to be addressed?” I ask courteously.

“Mrs. Styles is fine.” “Dr. Styles is good.” They both reply at the same time. They turn to look at each other sharing a look.

Mr. Styles raises his hands, “Mrs. Styles, it is. She’s the boss.”

“Noted, thank you.” I offer.

“Would you like to stay?” He asks his wife.

She smiles, “I’ll be around. Can’t have you get parts of the story wrong.”

“Because you know it perfectly,” Styles teased.

She laughs, and Styles lights up like a Christmas tree at the sweet sound. “I’m the writer, dear.” She leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead before he squeezed her hand, letting her walk away.

Right, I'll begin. Our story begins in 2015 after my last show with One Direction. After that show finished, I was set to take a flight out to LA. There was a party my friends wanted me to attend, and I loved a good party. I had some time before boarding and decided I needed a book. Thankfully, there was a small bookshop I noticed, and I had about an hour to kill. I didn't have a large suitcase, only traveling with my duffel.

There was someone with a broken carry-on, a book tag as their identification. But that wasn't what caught my attention. It was her multicolored scarf that looked well with her outfit and not like she was puked on by a kindergartener with markers.

I knew I had to learn more, so I approached her. I felt confident. When I walked toward her, I saw she had a Bukowski book in her hand. She flipped it to the back, reading the summary, and I jumped in.

"That's a good book."

"Is it?"

She doesn't even look up at me, but it doesn't stop me.

"Yes. My friend recommended it to me?"

"Was this friend a man?"

I am getting nervous now, "yes."

"That explains it."

"Explains what?" I asked.

Finally, she looked up at me, and I forgot to breathe. She has the most gorgeous eyes, and they were looking at me, and I wanted to wrap her up and keep her forever.

"What authors have you read?"

"Uhh…Bukowski, Rob Sheffield, Murakami," I listed.

She frowns, "did you notice a problem?"

"No."

"Well, this is a gift for a colleague. He's a reader, and well, we don't get along. I got him for secret Santa and decided to gift him a book he'd hate, but he's too polite to reject in front of others."

"Kind of devious."

"Good."

"What are you getting him?"

"I have just the book."

She walks away, and I can't help but follow.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, stranger."

"Would you like to go—"

"Going to stop you right there, mister."

"Oh."

She smiles; at least, I think she did. I was too busy mending my heart, trying not to panic.

"I've got to go."

Then she's off to pay for her book, and I lose her in the crowd.

I think that's the end. I'll never see her again.

Instead of trying to find her like a creep, I wallow, grabbing Alaine De Botton's book Essays in Love off the shelf. Walking to the counter, I placed my book, and the woman at the register looked at me hard. And I think she's a fan until she says there was a book I should buy.

Joan Didion's The White Album is placed in front of me.

"Who?"

"A girl with a colorful scarf. Said you had to buy it."

I don't think twice before paying and leaving. I opened the book, and on the dedication page is writing hers, I assumed.

It read: Not the best taste in books, but I can teach you. Know you wanted a date, so here's my number. Give me a call.

I did, right that second.

His wife laughs, "you did not."

Harry turns, pouting at her, "I did."

"You called me a day later."

Harry lets his shoulders drop. "Fine."

I went to my gate and read the book, deciding I needed to give it a chance if I ever thought I could stand a chance.

Well, we didn't stop talking after that.

We went out on a date two days before Christmas. Ice skating. Worst idea, she was good, and I was clumsy. She held my hand while I kept to the side like a child. It got to the point where she let me sit down, and she skated for a while longer, saying they had to get their money's worth.

"Sorry to interrupt," I voice. Mr. Styles just nodded, gesturing for me to go on. "Did she know who you were? The band was huge, like them or not. Your fame was undeniable."

Harry sighed. "She said she didn't. My wife has her doctorate. She's a professor or was for a long time. Her head was always stuck in a book, never time for new music."

I laugh, and he joins me, "she's a fan now. All that matters."

I'd like to say we fell in love that winter. We didn't say it until Spring when the flowers came, and I was set to leave for Dunkirk in May and focused on my album.

Have in mind we spent every day together, much to my liking, and her fake complaining of falling behind on work. Something I'd feel terrible about until she confessed, she got it done to focus more time on me. I whispered I love you, and she let me get on a plane to France, and then I didn't come home until August. I was in Jamaica obsessing over how she did not say it back.

It scared me.

We'd talk like usual, but I was petrified while I was away in Jamaica writing my first album that she'd find someone new. Every song I've ever written is about her since we met, and it continues.

It wasn't until I came back nicely tanned and album complete that she told me she loved me. I can assure you there were lots of tears that night.

In case you didn't catch that—the tears were all from Mr. Styles.

After that moment, everything changed. I could not see myself without her.

I knew if I lost her, I would not be the same. I was sure I'd never recover.

I knew she was it for me.

That she was meant to be my wife.

While she had all these walls up (or so I thought) keeping me out when in reality, I was so far in, she wouldn't let me leave, which is something I'm forever grateful for.

End of the summer of 2016, we met each other's families. My family went first because I was so excited about sharing her, and I wanted to prolong meeting a family of six—seven, counting my wife.

So I drove us down to Holmes Chapel, and there it was, the house I bought my mother in the town where we grew up in more secluded lots of space for flowers and future homes of cats. My wife had the best poker face, so if she was nervous, I wouldn't know it. It was not until we were well into our relationship that I learned to read her emotions like a book. The slightest nose scrunch and I would know what she was feeling.

In the car, she'd tell me she was nervous. I always spoke of my close relationship with my sister, mum, and stepdad. While I knew very little about her family except that she had two parents, four siblings, and a grandparent who loved her fiercely.

The trip home, to keep it short, was perfect. Everything I never thought would happen. Even more, she charmed them when my sister asked for Instagram and said she didn't use any. Something her family chastised her over for wanting to keep up with her. Then offered her number to my family, saying she'd love to be in touch.

I was sweating, thinking she'd be closed off, but she bloomed right before me. I was ready to get down on one knee in that instant.

She made them love her and laugh, which made me feel over the moon. I think I'm funny, but she has me beat by a long shot. Yes, so that trip solidified my love for her, as well as the deciding factor to one day marry her if that was something she wanted.

It was.

After tackling and meeting my family, it was time to meet my wife. She was a wreck assuring me we didn't have to if I was nervous. She came from such a large family that, although they loved her, made her grow up independent and alone. That's the one thing that hurt me to find out, to know she felt alone in her childhood, having four older siblings. I couldn't imagine my life without my sister, but the same sentiment wasn't felt for her as the youngest.

My wife grew up in Brighton in a lovely Victorian home in Hove Park that is passed down to the eldest child. My wife is the youngest, so we didn't get a free house.

I stifle a laugh as his wife slaps his shoulder softly, causing Styles to laugh and turn to her with a large dimpled smile.

"Excuse my husband. He's forgotten how to speak to others above the age of five."

"Rude," Styles mutters childishly.

Back to the story, she grew up in a large home with many family members. She had a difficult time bringing me home not because I was famous but because no one bothered to ask how she had been doing. Each of her siblings had postponed the meeting, which made this day even more stressful as it had finally arrived.

It was a Sunday afternoon; I had a bottle of wine and flowers in one hand and my wife's clammy hand in the other. Walking into her childhood home, it was easily noticeable what she spoke of. It was still her parent's home, and photos were everywhere, from the bookshelf to the door entrance. Twins mostly, and the occasional sibling photo of five. If you asked her parents, which I did, the answer was that she didn't like pictures.

That was true because they made her feel not included. Because the girl I met loved posing for me no matter how much she blushed. I forced her more times than not because I wanted to look back at times in our life together from the start. Also to show our future children, which we have done.

So I was ticked, but I hid it well. My wife says I have an excellent resting face. Moving on, there are hugs and handshakes. A wide smile on everyone's face saying how glad they are to meet me, asking me how I've been, all while my wife stands quiet by my side.

I'm honestly not sure what to do.

She looks like she wants to run out the door, and I'd follow her in a heartbeat. Instead, I shift the conversation to her, taking her coat and then my own. I focus on her and wait for her to whisper our code word. She doesn't, but I know she was close. We persevere and sit down for lunch. I held her hand the entire time as her family asked us questions about our relationship.

There was one question my wife answered, and her mother said that she should let me answer, saying she had spoken too much already. Which was just a lie. I was ready to shout from the rooftop when I decided no, I'd had enough. So I called our safe word, of course, after giving them a few words of our own. Then we left, and my wife showed me her favorite spots growing up in Brighton.

Mr. and Mrs. Styles grin at each other fondly.

"Are you close to her family now?"

Mr. Styles shrugs, "I doubt they'd read this. Don't like us."

"Harry," Mrs. Styles gasps. "The answer is no. We aren't close. We tried, but it didn't work out. My kids have Nana and Pops, who adore them more than enough."

Family is complicated for everyone, it seems.

We celebrated a year in December. It was her first Christmas with us, and she never missed one after.

"I joked her parents could have us for Thanksgiving." Harry laughs as if it was the best thing ever. "Cause she's English."

Having celebrated a year, I was over the moon and head over heels in love. Honestly, our relationship went through lots of tests because of my job and how much traveling I do. It was hard, but she was my pillar through it all. She was there when the first single was released, cheering me on. Also was there when we shot the music video. She wanted to get up to fly as well, but there was too much paperwork, so I took her skydiving instead.

He laughs nervously, "we can breeze past that."

I nod and gesture for him to go on.

Then the album was released in May, and she was there. She did not fail me for a single moment in my life. I failed her quite a bit, though. We shall get there soon enough. The first show came, and my heart was there in San Francisco. At this point, we had been dating close to two years and had no sightings, so it was smooth sailing, right, nope.

It was November. It was hometown shows, London first, then Manchester. It was then that we got our first pap photos, which was quite impressive. It took a year and eleven months. She was instantly overwhelmed.

When I was touring, she had come to a show; we went out for drinks after, and I held the door open for her face hidden. There was article after article, but we spun it to me being a gentleman holding it open for a stranger. She went back to school, and I kept touring. Checking in and calling as much as I could.

I remember thinking she'd end it. She went home, and I toured. Her calls and texts lessened. I had a few days off before heading to Asia, and I came home to her. She invited me in as I held back tears, thinking I'd been an idiot to show up, giving her the chance to break up with me. I rather her string me along than lose her all together.

Instead, she tackled me with kisses as soon as I sat down, I knew we were okay. Told me how uni was drowning her about wishing she could join me on tour. Gosh, that might have been the best night of my life. We spoke of her worries as well as mine. She was firm about not wanting her name out there and how she was trying to build a career. I vowed to protect her.

And well, I might have also put a ring on it then. I asked the morning after we woke up to the sun; she hated curtains. The sunrise woke her up each morning which I thought was insane, but while on tour, I always kept them open, feeling like I had a piece of her with me if I woke up when the sun did, just like her. Kicked me in the ass, but something I still do when I'm missing her like crazy.

Yes, so on our anniversary we got married. Our close friends and family were able to make it because we were so well loved. We are thankful for a lot of people who chipped in to help. A good friend of ours got ordained for us. My mom lent us her backyard, my sister was my best woman, and her best friend was her maid of honor.

It was the most perfect day.

We honeymooned until she had to return to school, and no, I won't say more. I will say it was bliss, and I'd give anything to relive those times again.

Then in March 2018, I ventured off to tour once more. She would be joining me from Asia to North America. I'm not sure how she did it, but she did. Something about not having to intern that year. The thing is, she's so brilliant I feel like she was in university forever. Except she only had a year left, so she joined. I had time planned out to visit places that would help her thesis and relax her.

We had fights, of course. It was healthy. I'd fight about the dishes, and she'd fight me, telling me it was my turn to wash the towels. Little things. Our worst fight happened when I was in Australia.

Mrs. Styles excuses herself at this time when one of her children calls for her. Perfect timing is what I heard Mr. Styles whisper.

It was two weeks before she was due to join me when everything changed.

I had gone out to celebrate a successful night. I only had one drink, knowing I was due to an early phone date with my wife. Except, something happened, and it put a lot of things into perspective. I was with my friends, all hanging out and phones out when this girl approached me. She was young, probably freshly eighteen, and she was giddy. When her friend pushed her trying to get us closer, she took that as a sign to kiss my lips, but I moved back, her lips landing on my neck instead. I called it a night then and there.

What I didn't realize was how many cameras there were on us. My phone died, and I went to sleep like that with no alarm. By the time I woke up, it was too late. My wife was hurt, rightfully so. She was waiting for me, calling and calling and nothing. A friend texted her the article. I was on the cover with what looked like a girl clinging to me. She didn't believe it.

No one knew I was taken, so they assumed I was having a wild night. But I was–am a married man. I guess I was too tired to think of the consequences. Her sister gave her a call saying she was sorry. That no one deserved to be cheated on. That cracked her a bit, but she was holding hope for my phone call. It didn't come until hours later. I had talked to my manager before I talked to my wife.

I called, and it rang.

Voicemail.

I called five times before she answered.

It was silent on the line.

"Love."

"Truth?"

"Always, my heart."

"Okay."

"That is me, but she brushed my neck. She stumbled into me, and I pushed her off. Nothing else."

She was silent.

"Okay?"

"Okay."

More silence.

"Harry?"

"Yes, my heart."

"I need time."

I felt my heart shatter in two. We never had a fight and did not fix it, especially when I was not there in person.

"No, please," I begged.

"I'm in London. In our home, I get a call from everyone but you."

"Let me fix it, please."

"Then give me time. Time to mend. You missed our date that you planned."

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry. I'll come home." I would do anything at this point. "I love you."

"I know, H."

"Will I see you at Heathrow?" We were flying out together to Asia. I did not want her to do it alone, even if it meant more travel time for me.

"I love you."

And then the call disconnected.

I was a mess. Served excellent writing material, but honestly, I needed her. I called her daily and sent her texts. She answered a few. When the day came to meet me, I wasn't sure if she was coming, and I understood if she decided not to.

My wife surprised me, sitting on her luggage in the private lounge. I ran into her arms and cried. We held each other, assuring each other that we'd be okay. It was a few rocky days, but we made it through. As we have the last twenty years.

While I apologized over and over again, she told me that she wouldn't leave me alone, not when she had promised that she'd stand by his side through the hard times. She might be upset with me, but not enough to stop herself from going and creating new memories together.

That December was special. We were going to celebrate our one year together as husband and wife, but my wife was finishing her Doctorate. The ceremony was significant to her. Everyone in her life had promised to come, including her parents and siblings, but that never concerned her.

The only person she wanted to attend despite everyone going was me, and I almost broke her heart.

Mr. Styles shakes his head, taking a deep breath before continuing with the story.

My wife had to arrive earlier as the graduates had to prepare so her friend picked her up and I promised to meet her there in my reserved seat. I decided I could get a few hours in the studio at home. I know it was foolish of me, but I was so excited for her that I was filled with inspiration. Then a few hours go by, and I see I have plenty of time and get ready. As I am getting ready, I get a call from Mitch that it's packed and I should be parking already.

"It starts at three. I've got time."

"No, H. She said she'd meet you at three after. This starts in less than an hour."

Mr. Styles clears his throat. "See, she was living in Oxford finishing her degree, so I got us a small home for the time being. It was close by, and she begged me we didn't need a home when we could live comfortably in her apartment. We did for some time, but she deserved more. Back to the story."

My eyes widen, and I grab my suit jacket and rush out of the house, starting the car.

"I'll be there soon. Promise."

"It's not me you gotta promise."

I know this. I do.

I say a silent prayer in hopes of making it on time and hoping she wouldn't learn about my foolish mistakes.

Traffic is not awful, but the worst happens as I am close to arriving at her university, and my car breaks down. I have no concern about dealing with that. So instead, I call up a friend who can come meet the tow truck, and I grab my suit jacket and begin to run, hoping for once I am not recognized as I have somewhere important to be.

More than ever, I don't want to fail her.

I'm not sure how I did it, but I see Mitch waiting for him, a classic frown on his head as he shakes his head at me.

"It's full there. No way you make it to your seat unnoticed."

I sigh, "shit."

"Jeff has seats towards the back, or we can stand."

"Let's stand."

Fuck.

I was officially the worst husband, all she wanted today was to be able to see me in my seat, but all she would see was the reserved sign.

I shot her a text and hoped she'd see it before they called her name. Now all I had to do was wait to see her after and hope she'd forgive me for being late for the most important date of her life. I was proud and nervous and shaking from how in awe I was of my wife. She was brilliant and passionate in her learning, allowing her to reach her goals, and I was proud to be by her side witnessing it.

The list of names was long, and I was tired of waiting. I was ready to see her in the full robe with bell-shaped sleeves. The body of the robe was made from scarlet cloth, and the facings down the front of the gown and sleeves were a blue satin.

She had come all excited, ready to show me, stripping off her coat and throwing it on the floor instead of hanging it up like she always did. The bag it came in was dropped on the floor as she quickly assembled the pieces and put them on.

The smile on her face was contagious, and soon tears were running down my face. She looked gorgeous, and I was so proud of her accomplishments. I saw how hard she worked and all the hours she put into her research. The publications and rejections, and she never faltered. All while supporting my dreams and endeavors.

It felt like ages for her name to be called, but when they finally did, I was the first to let out a loud cheer, our friends joining in soon after. She moved across the stage, standing tall, shaking hands, and received her diploma that we'd proudly display in our home until we moved it to her office when we moved into our forever home.

I watched her glide across the stage, graceful and angelic. As she looked out into the crowd, she looked around for only a second before I felt her eyes land on me. There was so much love pouring out of me I knew she could see it. She didn't even quirk an eyebrow at my new position. Instead, she blew a kiss and made her way off the stage.

The next hour was impossibly slow, I had to wait to have her in my arms, but I was counting down the minutes. As soon as all the graduates were released, I rushed outside with Mitch and the rest of our friends who were there supporting my partner, my heart. Strolling too slow to my liking was my wife and her two friends by her side. One by one, they hugged her before moving toward their family, leaving her to walk down towards me with the biggest smile.

"H," she breathed out.

I was overwhelmed seeing her in her regalia. It was clear she was glowing after years of hard work. Her biggest dream had been achieved, and I got to be at her side cheering her on.

I took her in my arms, breathing in her familiar scent, happy to have her in my arms. I am so proud. I'm pleased to be here supporting her as she has done for me countless times.

"You're an idiot, but you're mine," she tells me as she presses a kiss on my cheek.

"You're not mad," I gasp.

She shakes her head, a giant smile on her face. "You'll make it up to me. I already know."

I hug her tight, "always, forever."

"Let's go get some photos and then eat. I'm starving," she tells me after greeting all their friends and linking her arm with all their friends falling behind.

"Anything the Doctor wants, the Doctor gets."

"The following year was nothing but bliss. I was working on the next album, and my wife was working as a professor. It seemed that I started writing Fine Line as soon as my first album was finished. We were settled comfortably in life, having a daily routine where she cooked us breakfast, we texted at lunch, and I had dinner prepared when she walked through the doors." Mr. Styles sighed, lost in thought. "Every moment with her is unforgettable."

2019 had been rushing by, and I was eager to release the album. My wife helped me choose the single, one of her favorite songs. The music video was fun to shoot, and I was glad I was able to convince her to join me in the video. December has become a big month for us, and it seemed fitting that I wanted the next album in that month.

On December 13, my second album would be released, and it was all planned out perfectly. That's when life hits you with the unexpected. A few days before "Lights Out" was set to be released, while fans were finding "Do you know who you are" murals, I was sitting against the bathtub holding my wife's hand as we waited for the timer to ring that would let us check the five pregnancy tests she had taken to see if she was pregnant.

To see if we were going to become parents.

I didn't see it coming, and neither did my wife. She had felt sick and thought it was just a common cold. I was quick to look after her making her tea and my mum's famous chicken soup she loved. Except as soon as she took a single bite, it had her rushing into the restroom as she puked into the toilet. I held her hair back, telling her it'd be okay. When I rushed to the kitchen to get her sparkling water to settle her stomach, she leaned against the bathtub pregnancy test on her lap.

I stop right in front of her, taking in the small tests that have the power to change our life.

"Do you–"

She shrugs, "I haven't made you make a chocolate visit to the store yet."

"Do you want to do them?"

She nods, "I think we should."

I told her to take all five, so we could be sure. Those ten minutes were the longest of my life. Not a word was said, not because we were upset but because we were processing it. There was so much coming our way that starting a family was not in the plans so soon.

After my alarm rang, we both got up quietly. I stayed a few steps behind her, letting her have the first look. I was too nervous to see the results because, as busy as we were, I wouldn't be able to hide my disappointment if we weren't pregnant.

That October, when my single was released for my second album, I was at the clinic for our first ultrasound. I heard our child's heartbeat and cried because our family was growing. I cried because my wife gave me the best gift I could ever receive. Our lives were changing, and I was ready.

It was in November when everything changed. She was three months pregnant, and we were going to another appointment. I ensured she always had enough water and was taking her vitamins. She pouted when her jeans stopped fitting, claiming they ruined the sense of style she had adopted. She transitioned to wearing oversized hoodies and my new favorite dresses at all times.

"You know, I think this baby is growing too fast," she tells me as we wait for her name to be called.

I laugh, looking down at her hands and rubbing her stomach gently. "Why is that?"

"I'm huge," she exclaims quietly to me. "They say you shouldn't pop until around your fifth month. I'm at four."

I can sense her worry and kiss her forehead. "Every pregnancy is different, my heart. You know that."

She grumbles under her breath, and I know I said the wrong thing. "Would it make you feel better if we asked the Doctor?"

"Yes."

"Then we will."

Soon we were called back, and I helped her change into the hospital gown and then settled the blanket over her as they waited for the doctor to come in. Not long after, Dr. Strand comes in with a faint smile and a clipboard in hand.

"Hello, parents, how are you doing?"

After the initial questions, the ultrasound begins, and just like the first time, I can't help but tear up. That's our baby we're hearing and seeing. That's the baby my partner and I created, and she is nurturing and growing for us.

"Well…"

"What?" I asked, panicked.

"It explains why you feel like you're growing quickly."

I'm confused but let Dr. Strand continue. She moves around a bit before pointing toward the screen.

"There are your babies. They're kicking." Dr. Strand tells us.

I look in awe, then she moves her hand to another blob. "This is baby B, who was hiding behind baby A."

"Two babies," I breathe out.

The smile on my wife's face is enormous. It's as if she knew her mother's intuition had already started working.

"A and B. Next visit, we can check genders if you wish." She waits for a response, but we're taking a moment to let it sink in that we're having two children and not one.

My wife has tears streaming down her face, and I know my face mirrors the same. I take her hand in mind pressing kiss after kiss.

"Our babies," she whispers.

"Ours," I responded.

"We don't want to know. We'll wait. That okay, H?" She responds for us.

I nod because it doesn’t matter. I love them so much, and I know I'll love them even more, when I finally get to hold them in a few months.

We didn’t immediately tell our families. Maybe it was nerves but also wanting to keep it ours for a moment longer. There were only so many times my wife could pull off the lazy look before our friends and family got suspicious.

Before the album dropped in December and we began to prepare for Night Only, I had decided it was time. My wife encouraged me to do it sooner, but I wanted to hold off because I knew it would not be an easy conversation. Jeff, of course, didn’t take the news well. We had just announced Love on Tour Europe and North America. Touring would become more challenging but not impossible, is what he told me.

Except I wanted to push back the tour a bit as she was due the month tour started. There was nothing more I wanted than to be by her side for the first few months. It was a lot of back and forth, but I stayed firm on my answer. I was meant to be by my family’s side.

December 13th was a perfect day. I had my wife in the audience of a sold-out show. My idol Stevie Nicks came out to sing a song with me. There was nothing better than the album release. Well, almost, telling my family about the pregnancy was next because she was showing now. It meant everyone had to be more protective and vigilant, making sure to never get a camera in a shot that had the potential of being released. My mum cried tears when finding out it was twins, my sister claimed dibs on being the best aunt ever (there was no doubt she would be), and my friends told me it was only a matter of time.

A month before my babies were born, the tour postponement was announced. It was chaos, but I was in bliss, hiding away at home with my pregnant wife awaiting our children’s arrival. I knew soon enough I’d have to face it, but now I was happy to be at home.

Mr. Styles laughs as he thinks of the next part of his story.

My wife comes from a family of twins. She’s not a twin and the only one to have twins. Perfect she is. I’m fortunate. She never lets me forget it either.

Mr. Styles pauses to have some coffee that his wife made for him. He expressed how the drink was perfect when she made it, and then he tried to recreate the cup when she wasn’t there, which turned out awful.

“I use a secret ingredient,” she shares, squeezing her husband’s hand.

Mrs. Styles returned to join us to continue the story by Mr. Styles’ side.

“The twins were the reason you postponed tour, right?”

“Yes, and I got a lot of heat from it.”

“From the fans?”

He nods, “and my management. Think the only support I got was from my wife.”

She laughs, “it was unexpected, but twins alone, I’m not sure I would have survived.”

“My wife comes from a family of twins, and she’s the only one who doesn’t have one, so you can imagine our surprise when we find out we’re expecting two.”

“A joy you can’t describe, I imagine.”

“Right, again.”

As the due date got closer and closer, I got more worried and anxious. Making sure she was always eating and resting. Never doing anything she wasn’t supposed to. Never lifting a finger. It was nice being able to care for her, but my wife was over it. She hated that I did everything for her, from helping her shower to sitting on the couch.

The date loomed close, and then it passed. No signs of our babies coming. We feared them coming too soon, but it seemed they loved being with their mum a bit too much. Dr. Strand assured us it was customary to give it a few days. It was three a.m., and I had just fallen asleep after my wife made me stay up to watch the Harry Potter movies again. As much as I love them, I needed a break. She assured me she’d be fine until I woke up to her yelling for me from our bathroom. She held her stomach with a smile as she stared down at the puddle on the floor.

“They’re ready.”

I felt my heart speed up and moved to grab her, wanting her to step away from the liquid in fear of her slipping. I kissed her, and it was perfect. We were officially becoming a family of four. It would no longer just be us.

I was ready.

“Let’s go have our babies, my heart. We waited long enough.”

After a long eight hours, at eleven a.m. Milan and Siena were born only two minutes apart, giving no time to recover, both eager to come into the world. No moment in my life could be rivaled by seeing our children placed in my wife’s arms. To see her stare at our children full of love knowing she was already the best mother. I knew we were in for the best adventure of our life.

We were full of nerves when we were allowed to go home a few days later, but I knew we’d be just fine. The guests were endless. My mum spent time with us to my wife’s and I joy as she reminded us to sleep and eat because otherwise, we’d spend every moment just staring at our babies that were already beginning to change.

Once Milan and Siena turned six months old, it was time to return to work. Not in the studio but for my second film, Don’t Worry Darling with Florence Pugh, directed by Olivia Wilde. At this point, we were naturals at changing diapers and getting them to sleep. It was not easy, but together it was possible. Taking them to Los Angeles to film for a few months would be stressful because the paparazzi were more ruthless. Thankfully, Mitch and Sarah were here, and my wife knew she had people in her corner that would help whenever she called. I remember she surprised me on set one day, left the twins with Jeff and his then fiancé, now wife Glenne, and I had the best time with her in my trailer.

Mrs. Styles slaps his arm, making Mr. Styles burst out laughing, “it’s not like I could show her off like I wanted to. So I hid her for the day.”

She rolls her eyes, looking at me, “I was not hidden. Those NDA’s were solid. I met the director and his co-star Florence Pugh.”

“Who you’re good friends with now,” I state.

“All thanks to me,” Mr. Styles says proudly.

“Yes, all thanks to him. I also met Chris Pine. I could have talked with him for hours,” she confesses.

“Hey, now!” Mr. Styles acted offended. We all know it’s an act.

“While Harry was off filming and Chris wasn’t needed, we were found at catering exchanging books he had in his trailer and that I had brought with me.” She gushes. It's apparent books are a big passion of hers.

“They formed a book club.”

Mrs. Styles leaned in close, poking his cheek. “Don’t act jealous. You joined the club, as did Gemma.”

“Chan,” Mr. Styles added. “Sorry, Gems, my sister.”

“Shall we continue?” I asked.

Having her on set was a joy because she saw me work on a new job, something she’d never seen me do before. It was a new world for us, but we managed well. I was grateful she allowed me to work and followed me to Los Angeles because her career was just as important to me. The thing is, she had ample opportunities in Los Angeles as well. Our schedules were busy, but our children always came first. Something we both remembered during every commitment we signed up on.

Filming was going to happen through the new year, and we were okay with that. New Year to us could happen anywhere as long as we were together. We had friends here in the city who always welcomed us with open arms, except we only reached out to a select few that knew about our kids. It’s a secret we wanted to keep for a long time, and so far, we are managing it well.

In January, I officiated my best friend and manager's wedding, and it was a family affair. Sadly the twins were not in attendance, but they were in the best hands with my mum and sister. It was a fun night. Mum and dad got the day off. I woke up to a lovely view–of my balcony overlooking the ocean. The newlyweds did pick a stunning location.

I continued working on the film after. Long days too long nights with the twins. There were many challenges where we’d want to go out on a stroll together but feared being seen, so she’d take them on her own. It was a Saturday, and I was convinced no one would spot us. There was a farmer’s market we were strolling through, the twins napping, not a care in the world about the chatter going around them. My wife stopped at every stall, sampling marmalade and fresh fruit and even buying handmade baby clothes with little bees and, as she said, “were too cute to resist.” It was when she left me with the pram that someone recognized me. Her attention is caught by a sample of cherries, her weakness. I smiled at the person who spotted me, trying to make myself look unapproachable but to no avail.

“Hi Harry,” the young fan greeted. They had a tight hold of their tote bag, obviously nervous but not as nervous as I was at the moment.

“Hello, how are you?” I shifted my feet, moving an inch away from the sleeping bubs.

“Good. I just wanted to tell you that, uh,” the fan looked away, obviously overwhelmed.

“You alright?” I asked, knowing I’ve had similar experiences and still do when I meet one of my idols.

“Yeah, uh. Good. I’ve just looked up to you for a long time. I’m glad you’re taking time for yourself.”

I’m not sure what to say, I knew the fan reaction wasn’t positive, but this was kind. I felt good for putting my family first. Before I could reply, my wife returned at a slower pace, sunglasses and hat on her head disguising her face.

“Thank you for watching the pram.” My wife thanks me as if I’m just another kind stranger she found on the street, and I know she saw me speaking with the fan. I’m thankful for her quick thinking.

“Glad I could help, precious babies you have,” I tell her with a small smile.

“My sister needed a day off, and I’m happy to give it to her.” She tells him. “Good day.” She offers one last smile to me and the waiting fan.

As I finish signing the fan’s journal, and sigh with relief when she doesn’t ask for a photo. I keep walking, trying to make it seem like I’m interested in what the vendors offer, but I’m dying to go back to my wife, who I know is waiting in the car a few streets away.

When I got back to the car, my wife had the car on and was listening to my album, Milan and Siena, now wide awake, both with a bottle my wife was holding up for them.

“This is the life, huh?” She joked.

Except, it was. The life we are building together is the life I have always wanted since the moment she walked into my life.

After wrapping in February, we headed home for a month's break. March was eventful in our home as Siena took her first steps, and Milan said his first word, “mum,” to no one’s surprise but my own. I was rooting for that first word to be “dad,” but it seemed my wife won him over. A few days after Milan, Siena began tom, but she didn’t say mum or dad. No, our little one said milk. That sounded more like “ilk,” but we understood. Milan started walking as well; wanting to follow his sister around was much easier on two feet than crawling.

I began filming My Policeman in April. My family was thrilled we were home. There was always someone dropping by to visit my wife with a cooked meal or wanting to cuddle the twins. I felt relaxed going to work, knowing constant people were checking in on her. Not that she needed it, I know she liked being home with them, but it could get overwhelming with two babies to look after. My wife made it look easy. She was a true superhero.

During the start of filming, Milan and Siena celebrated a significant milestone, turning one year old. It was a small party with our family coming down and showering them with presents. Gemma brought them each a cake of their own. That they happily smashed into; the photos are a favorite of mine to look back on; my wife quickly had them framed up around the house. Being part of these milestones is important, and I’m glad to be there for each one.

Thankfully, My Policeman took around two and half months to film, and it was right at home. It was quicker than I anticipated, but I enjoyed getting to know the cast, especially getting to work closely with Emma and David.

“Did you bring your wife to set again?” I pause him to ask.

Mr. Styles smirks, looking at his wife before turning back to face me again. “She asked me to take her because she wanted to meet Emma. She was a big fan of The Crown, especially of Emma.

“He’s not wrong. Emma is lovely.” She adds in, clearly embarrassed by how she shoves him lightly. His giggles die down as he presses a kiss on her cheek.

I finally finished filming, and my team was excited because it meant I would be back on the road again. I was excited; the twins were old enough to travel more easily. They loved being on a plane. We learned either they were looking out the window or sleeping peacefully.

It was time for Love on Tour. Everyone had waited long enough, and as much as I love my family, my wife knew I was buzzing to be on stage again. As much as my wife loved her job as a professor, she knew it was time for a change. She began to write her book as well as write more journal articles.

“Can you read this over, H?”

I dry my hands on the kitchen towel, taking a seat next to her, trying to see what she needs me to read, knowing fully well she has a long list of colleagues and friends she can shoot this to in a quick email.

“I wasn’t alive in 1868, so I don’t know how much help I could give you.”

“Dork,” she mutters as she pushes the laptop over, giving me a proper look for the article she’s written about Frederick Bacon Barwell. Everything makes sense. All I input is erasing her last period and then adding it back because I know it will get her to laugh, and it does.

“Right, that means you’d have to include me as partial editor.”

“Who should I send the check out to for all your hard work?” She sasses back.

“My wife handles that. I’ll put you in contact.”

“Dork,” she repeats once again.

“And all yours.”

Love on Tour 2021 kicks off in Vegas, and it’s a whirlwind. It’s a weird schedule we settled on, but it works. We travel on the tour bus and private plane when absolutely necessary. The twins run around as they please between my dressing room to Mitch and Sarah’s, where their small bubba is still on the younger side compared to the one-year-old twins. The best of cousins already, as they loved sharing their toys with him. It’s a big reason we hired Melinda, a nanny that helped with the children, because my wife could handle two but three well. That was just asking for too much.

The kids liked being in the audience with their giant headphones watching me on stage, not that we did it often. I still thought they were too small and curious for their own good to be out there long. As long as I knew they were watching and hearing me backstage, it was all okay.

On days off or travel days, I made sure to give my wife the afternoon to herself to get work done or take a more extended bath than she usually would. She’s doing so much for me, and I wanted to do the same. She got a lot of work done as the months followed, and as the tour was coming to a close, she was just as close to finishing her book that would soon be sent to her editor and published soon after the revisions. It was a long process, but I was proud, and she knew that.

Winding down from the tour, we celebrated four years of marriage in December. We took a weekend trip away from the twins to celebrate. I took her to Italy, as it’s one of the first places we traveled to when we first got together. It was a magical month, as December usually is.

The New Year went by quickly, the twins having the most fun getting to dress up and make new year wishes with us. All I could ask for was happiness and health for my family. It’s a wish that stays constant in my life. For my birthday that year, I got the best surprise.

My wife had planned a surprise party at home with our close friends and family. The twins had no idea what we were celebrating, but they were over the moon when they got to smash the cake in my face. When everyone had gone home, and Siena and Milan were sleeping peacefully in bed, my wife decided to give me my present. I had waited all day for it, knowing she always manages to surprise me each year, and this year she might have topped it.

Inside a box that I tried my best not to rush opening, making my wife laugh as she could tell how nervous I was, and it wasn’t until I took off the lid that I saw three pregnancy tests with a single sonogram inside.

“My heart, this isn’t funny,” I whispered, but I knew it wasn’t a joke. I knew what I was looking at and was just in disbelief.

“It’s real, H. I’m pregnant.” She promised me.

“Our baby is in there?” I ask, resting my hand on her stomach. The tears are now falling quickly, and I’m not bothered to wipe them away.

“Yeah, think we’ll get another pair?” She asks me.

“I hope so,” I answered honestly, and I did. We struggled a lot with twins, but we are a team, and we could do anything together.

We did not share the news with our family for a few months, wanting to be in the clear when we announced it. My wife and I got to enjoy the first months to our enjoyment and not having to discuss the morning sickness she was going through. It was the day before Mother’s Day, and my wife had an appointment where we’d get to see how the baby or babies were doing. My wife was positive we were having twins again, but I wasn’t sure.

How lucky could we be?

And, as always, my wife was right. Dr. Strand showed us two heartbeats and two blurred beans in the ultrasound. My wife assured me that was the best Mother’s Day gift she could have received. It was the best present for me as well. It also meant we’d have even more spoiling to do when tomorrow is her special day.

Time moved as quickly as it felt because soon it was April, and I was releasing a new single for my new album Harry’s House. It’s funny because many fans listened to the lyrics and guessed I might have a secret family, but they all shut each other down quickly. Leaving things up for interpretation is always much more fun. We were in for a busy time as I would now be touring in Europe throughout my wife’s pregnancy, and there were people we had to tell, but we started with the most important. Milan and Siena.

We sat Milan and Siena down to tell them the news.

“Mummy and Daddy have something they want to share,” I told Siena and Milan.

Siena and Milan stared at each other nervously, bouncing in their seats. They could tell how nervous we were or how nervous I was. They never expressed wanting more siblings when they had each other.

“Mummy’s pregnant,” I told them as my wife placed her hands over her belly, her shirt lifted so our children could see the bump starting to bulge out.

“Baby?” Milan asked.

“That’s right, sweetie.” My wife smiled at him, “there are two babies.”

Siena held up two fingers. “I’m two.”

I chuckled, “that you are. Now two babies are growing in your mum’s tummy just like when she had you.”

They lose their attention soon after that when Teddy comes to lay in their lap. My wife and I turn to stare at each other and just laugh. It couldn’t have gone any better.

April rolled in, beginning a new era for me professionally. I was releasing the first single for my third album. There was a tiny hint to my family, but it seemed no one thought anything more of it. I was thankful. Even better, we celebrated the twins’ second birthday, which was an ever bigger affair than the first. The presents doubled, and the cakes only got bigger.

It was becoming one of our best years, but there were still many logistics to figure out with my wife being pregnant and the Europe tour ending close to her due date where she would no longer be able to travel with me. My wife was calm about all this while I was close to losing my head. I loved having her on tour, but it wouldn’t be possible past July. I didn’t want to leave her alone, pregnant and with our rambunctious toddlers. That’s when I realized just how much my wife was loved because my mum insisted she’d move in for the time being while I was away, and everyone else promised to swing by, allowing her time to herself but also for her not to be stressed out.

Harry’s House was written for my wife, not that all my other albums were not. This one held more of her story that I allowed myself to write and share with her. Matilda is a song we both got attached to because it speaks of all she went through, something I would never understand but to show her that I listened and that I was there for her. I was thankful she allowed me to share my heart about something so personal with the world. Especially seeing how everyone reacted to the song. I knew she was proud of me, but I was prouder of her for continuing to choose me every day.

I began in Glasgow at Ibrox Stadium to kick off my return to Europe. A sold-out stadium of over 50,000 people came to see me. It was surreal. It’s something the team pushed, saying we were ready, that I was ready. The nerves I got before on stage were like never before. My wife was there by my side, and Milan and Siena were with my mum, whom we’d be seeing in Manchester in a few days for my home show. Walking out that day, I was proud because I’d accomplished so much, and this was something else to add to the list, but I knew nothing would top the fantastic family I had created.

My wife and I say goodbye in Sweden as she flies home with Glenne and my sister to ensure she arrives safely. She wanted to go by train, but that was a big no for me. I prefer her to get home quickly in a few hours. While she prepared for the arrival of our second set of twins, I was finishing off a tour. I was enjoying every moment, but as soon as I got off that stage, I was on the phone checking in with her wanting to hear about how annoying they were today because she had to pee so much. She told me all about how the twins put on a talent show for her, and she recorded it so I could see it. Every day was a countdown until I could be home again.

After that final show to end the Europe leg, I was on the first flight home to my wife and my kids. I arrived in the early hours of the day. To my surprise, they were all cuddled in our king-size bed that I fought my wife on, stating it was too much space, but now I could see it was enough as Siena and Milan took up two-thirds of the bed while my wife slept on her side her pregnancy pillow at her side, the only thing that allows her to sleep.

My beautiful family and soon to add two more. Little did I know that a day after I arrived, the twins would decide to grace us with their presence. It was dinner time. We all finished eating when Siena shouted, “Mummy, you spilled water.” My wife standing with no cup in her hand or around her, looked down to see the floor wet and knew that her water had broken.

“Oh my.” My wife braced herself against the table as she felt a contraction hit her. I hurried to her side, doing my best to have her follow my breathing just like the birthing classes taught us. “Call your sister.”

“On it,” I shouted. “Kids, Auntie Gemma is coming. Mummy and I have to go now.”

It all seemed to be happening so fast, but twelve hours later, Edin and Camden Styles were welcomed into the family. Gemma brought them along, eager to be reunited as a family. I helped them up one by one on the bed as my wife held Edin and Camden like a pro from the practice she got from Siena and Milan. Siena seemed amazed at the small wrapped babies, while Milan only wanted cuddles from his mother, not a care for his younger siblings. A perfect day indeed.

2022 into 2023 was my longest year. I did Harry’s House residency starting in Canada in August and not ending until March. It was a lot. There was lots of joy, but it was also hard to explain to the kids when they’d be at home again to see their Nana and her cats. Edin and Camden were doing excellent; my wife worried about traveling with them so young. My wife didn’t join me until my New York residency began because she wanted them to be a little bigger and stronger and get the doctor’s clearance. When I saw them again, I felt like they all got bigger. Siena was not taller than Milan, and Camden had stretched out. Edin has now grown more hair and was beginning to resemble mine.

My wife was a true superhero. She looked amazing as if she’d been doing this all her life. Once we were alone that first night, she confessed she was tired. That she didn’t want to do it without me. I appreciated her honesty, and with the help of everyone around us, we made it work. To this day, I know we could have conquered the world together, but we didn’t have to.

After the longest year, I decided to take a break. It’s one that I owe to my family. I wanted to give them stability and the chance to get to know the city they call home and see family we’d been far away from. While I worked on small projects, my wife got back into work, having postponed a lot due to our children. She’d constantly work on research articles when she had the time, but now I was giving her the opportunity to go back to her career just as she had given me.

I was the stay-at-home dad. Spent all day with our children was excellent, and as much as I knew they loved me, all our kids adored her. They swore a kiss from her would fix all their problems. And they would. A kiss always fixed all of mine. We grew together as a family, building a routine, planting in the garden, and dancing in the kitchen. Our children only made us fall in love even more.

Life went on, children grew, I wrote and released music, my wife furthered her research, and before we knew it, our tenth wedding anniversary was upon us.

“You renewed vows?” I was surprised.

Mr. Styles chuckles, “we did. Thought it should be a whole family affair now that we’re a family affair of six and would not be adding more.”

“When did you decide you wouldn’t have more children?”

Mrs. Styles sighed, “think it was more me. I liked that they were in pairs. No matter what, they’d always have someone to rely on for everything in life.”

“Also, her favorite number is six,” Mr. Styles chimed in. “We thought it was a sign.”

Our vow renewal was a private affair; it was us, our kids, my family, and close friends. There were less than twenty of us. If we want to be specific, it happened in Italy, the Amalfi Coast. The kids dressed up, all wanting to dress with my wife because she had the surprise dress, and well, my suit was nice but nothing compared to her. Edin, five at the time, walked with Milan (7). Camden (5) and Siena (7) walked together. We trusted the older siblings to walk the young ones because they were known to get distracted and wonder if they didn’t have one of their siblings at their side. I can proudly say I cried when they all walked down the aisle right into my arms. They stood by my side as we waited for my wife and their mother to make her entrance, and what an entrance it was.

As my wife made it down to us, her family, I had tears streaming down my face because I knew how lucky I was to have her in my life. That the life we had created was magical and perfect. Everything we ever dreamed of, and I’m glad we could keep it ours. We partied all night–well until the kids passed out at eight, and we followed soon after. We know we could have had someone take them for the night, but it was perfect because we were together.

Now life was not as easy as I described it. Well, at least I didn’t make it that easy. It seemed that no matter what I did, I was always in some new article or making recent headlines. The rumors were getting to me, and I had enough, and I told my wife as much.

I found her sitting on the couch watching the telly and tossed a few magazines on our coffee table that she didn’t even bat an eye at.

“Love?”

Ignored.

“Baby?”

One again ignored.

“My heart?”

That is when I noticed she was hiding her face in the blanket, laughing to see how long I’d realize. I grumbled how ridiculous she was, but the smile on my face said otherwise.

“There’s more headlines.”

She shrugged and laughed them off.

“What if they’re true?” I asked.

She looked at me, all joy wiped away from her way, “you would be wearing that ring right there.” She pointed to the wedding ring I wore proudly, never taking it off and fans not thinking more of it.

I let all my emotions go and cried on the couch. All these emotions weighed me down, and I wanted it to end. I just wanted to enjoy performing and coming home to my family without talking about who I’m seen with or lack of.

“I hate them. I do,” I whispered, my head in her lap as she brushed her hand through my growing curls.

“It’s why you protect our kids and me,” she reminded me.

“With my life.”

Stadiums were a fun part of my life. My wife joined me, and so did the kids. It was a wonderful summer seeing all these fantastic venues I only ever dreamed of doing on my own. We built a scrapbook of the children at all the arenas and stadiums they’ve been to because we want them to look back at this. To see that they had a large part in my career journey. I always put them first and will continue to do so for the rest of my life.

As I watched my four children get older, I grew more protective and nervous. I was definitely the stricter parent, if you could believe that. My wife had that special relationship with them that if something ever happened, they’d go to her first.

“Mum’s a doctor, dad, and you sing on stage.” Siena had told him when he asked her one day.

I sighed, knowing they weren’t wrong. They usually weren’t.

All children make mistakes, and they’ve gone through their fair share. Now I won’t share any because they are my children, which would invade their privacy. I will tell you now that my oldest are seventeen and off to uni. My youngest are fourteen and are staying home with us for a few more years. The one thing I’ve always asked of my children was to be themselves and vulnerable. That we’d always be there, even more so as they got older. The reminder that they’d never be alone.

“My wife is heartbroken that Milan and Siena are leaving us.” Mr. Styles confesses with a hidden smile.

His wife elbows him lightly in the stomach, causing him to jump and shuffle closer to her instead of away. He really gravitates towards her. “You cried when they told you they were leaving.

Mr. Styles mocks offense, “she’s not wrong.”

I laugh, enjoying the banter happening in front of me. Mr. Styles focuses his attention back on the story.

The pride and joys of my life are my four children. Each one is different and forever teaches me more about life, and I thought I had learned it all. Milan has taught me to listen and never rush someone if they aren’t ready. Siena taught me that I didn’t need to have all the answers as long as I showed them support. Edin showed me the importance of always showing up. Camden proved to me that although I wasn’t ready to be a dad, it was the best decision I ever made. These are my life lessons, and I know they’ll only continue to teach me more.

Ultimately, I’m proud. There is a lot of love and trust. It’s something we taught them from a young age because all though we were keeping the biggest secret, we wanted them to know the importance of telling the truth. Each of them is independent, saying they want to take after my wife, who stands tall on her own, but with her family at her side, only shines brighter.

“Now we’ve caught up to the original timeline, so to say.” Mr. Styles shrugs as if what he just spoke about for the last hour won’t shake the entire world. “I’m in love, and I couldn’t be happier.” He giggles, holding up his wife’s hand proudly.

I can’t hold back my laugh because it’s a declaration many people make when first going public with a relationship. Mr. Styles statement is true. His happiness radiates off of him. I haven’t stopped smiling since I was welcomed into his home.

“Please know this will be the last I speak of my family,” Mr. Styles states firmly.

Fair.

“World’s best-hidden secret,” I tell him honestly.

“And I wouldn’t change it for the world,” he vows. “Also, if you had my wife as a professor, specifically class of 2017 when she was a TA. Thank you for keeping our secret.” Mr. Styles laughs as he shares that small bit of information while his wife hides her face in his shoulder.

I sit back in shock. “People knew?”

Styles shakes his head, “like five people who loved visiting her office hours.”

Mrs. Styles laughs, lost in the memory her husband brought up. “Still speak with a few of them. One is an orthopedic doctor, another a neurosurgeon. Another is a best-selling author.”

It’s wonderful to hear the impact she had.

“What’s your career like?” I couldn’t help but ask.

She smiles, grateful, “this isn’t about me.”

Mr. Styles grins, kissing her cheek. “My wife is brilliant. She’s got so many degrees under her belt as well as a published book. Doctor of Arts. She works with paintings. Discovered an old one and got to write all about it since it was her specialty.”

“Tell them,” Styles encourages. “This new job has us traveling on her part for a few weeks, and the kids enjoy it. I do too.”

Mrs. Styles sits there trying to hide her flushed face, “my husband is very proud, but I’m retired.”

“Lies, she works—” A hand flies to cover his mouth.

“Don’t need people flooding my workplace.”

I chuckle, “well, it’s wonderful to hear about your work. Art is valuable in both of your lives, from music to paintings.”

“Thank you.” She answered graciously, knowing I was eager to pry some more, and her husband was close to doing so.

“Anything else you want to share, Mr. Styles?” I ask, having wrapped up the last of my questions.

Mr. Styles shrugs, “no, everything else will stay mine.”

“Very well.”

We all stand up from the couch as they lead me to the door.

“Dad! Mum!” Someone yelled from the top of the stairs.

“So close,” Mr. Styles mutters to his wife.

“Walking our friend out the door.”

“Can we meet them?” A soft voice asks.

I spot a head of curls pop from the side of the stairs, and I see that Mrs. Styles approaches them.

“Mum, she interviewed all the Bake-off contestants this season.”

I’m biting back a laugh because, of course, they’re fans of a well-loved show by all. Who knew that would have put me on the children's radar?

Mrs. Styles stares at her husband, saying the decision is in his hands.

He mumbles a low “for fucks’s sake.”

“Yes, it’s fine.” He turns back to me. “Are you alright with that?”

“Only if you are.” I tried my best to assure him.

“Alright, be polite, or I’ll sell all your books.” He sternly tells his children with the biggest smile on his face.

“Yeah, right,” his wife tells him.

He feigns hurt, putting on a great act as the Oscar winner he is, “All against me.”

In front of me stand four adolescents, and well, I can describe them, but you’ll have to trust me when I say they are all as polite and beautiful as their parents.

After a short interrogation of whom was my favorite to interview, I was waved out, and I promised to send them the first draft.

“Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Styles.”

“Thank you for indulging my children.”

“Nothing is more important than a child’s happiness.”

Mr. Styles nods, and as I drive off, waiting for the large black gate to open in my rearview is an image I’ll never forget because nothing beats a loving family.

*see below a photo of Mr. Styles gazing lovingly at Mrs. Styles, whose wedding and engagement ring was hidden from view. Mrs. Styles was dressed in a beautiful eggshell white dress with lace around the skirt. It was made especially for her, Harry Styles shared when speaking with his publicist.

*Corrections made by Styles are that he and his wife had changed their name, having hyphenated their last names. To protect his wife and children, that is left out of this interview.

#harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #dad!harry #harry styles story #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles you #harry styles blurb #dadrry #harry styles fic rec

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 years

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Villain Dekuwife | 5

The Masterlist For The Other Chapters

"Hey! Sorry for being so late I was fighting with my husband and he just can be so-ugh!"

You destroyed another crayon. You had agreed to color with the detective at the cafe he had said was a safe spot to talk. You didn't ask why you're house wasn't but what did you care? Everyone had their reasons for everything. "It's fine Ms. Midoriya." "Misssus, Shinsou. We may be fighting but that doesn't mean I plan to abandon my title." "Right. Sorry slip of the tongue." "Anyway you said you wanted to talk right? What about?" "Yes."Pulling out a thick manilla folder; he plopped it on the table and continued. "On the day of January 30th where were you and your husband?"

"This again? I told you that day I was trapped with violent criminals in my husband's car and he was ambushed before me. What more do you need?" Your patterns in coloring the dinosaur on page didn't reflect the frustrated tone you had. He needed to press further. "Okay okay, how about the night of Jun 7th?" "The day Izu came home really badly beat up?" "Yes records show you had reported 'gangsters' in the area for attacking your husband." "Right. I didn't divulge this in front of him but I'm pretty sure its the people he's working with they have him under physical threat." "Paying your bills doesn't seem to be a 'physical threat'…" "Well of course they would, he'd have no other reason to stick around and be their punching-bag if he wasn't getting paid." "Is that so." This was getting nowhere. "Uhm Ms. Midoriya if your willing I can walk you home." "Oh no thank you, I'm going to stay here a bit longer and color." The purplette rubbed his head as if to soothe his oncoming headache. "But Ms. Midoriya I couldn't rest knowing you didn't get home safe." "Then stay or call me later. I'd prefer it that way so I can finish this, before anything else." He was getting nowhere with you but he stopped himself before he lost his temper. "Hey Ms. Midoriya does your husband have green hair?" "Well of course he does--" Your (e/c) dulled, your mouth hung open, and the crayon you were coloring with began to roll on the table. "Walk with me." On command you stood up from your chair and obeyed following him into a maze of alleyways. He led you to a dead end where he physically halted you to a stop. Waking up you attempted to yell in retaliation but a quietly uttered question had you falling limp as the spindles of a gray capture weapon attached to an underground hero. "Who is the Deku-villain? What is their connection to Pyrodast? Is Shoto Todoroki connected to them as well?" You seemed to have fallen asleep but the shaking of your body and the straining of the capture weapon says otherwise. You're not sleeping but instead practically frothing at the mouth with anger. "You've gotta lot of nerve!"

Barely gritting out those words before you latch on to the capture weapon and pull the user from their position on a fire escape. "Aaaah" Eraserhead grunted as he was launched into his detective companion. You unravel the remaining remaining threads on you before grabbing the fallen Shinsou by his shirt's collar. You reeled back punching him square in the face before stomping back to the cafe to retrieve your coloring material.

Geez can't a woman color in piece?

-----

"Darling, my love, the most wonderful wife in the world--" "What do you need Izu?" You rolled your eyes to see him sitting beneath you on the floor. You crossed your arms as he played with your (pants/skirt) just waiting for the punchline. You could tell whatever he was about to ask was a touchy subject. He knew you well and to be nervous coming to you, it would have to be a pretty good reason. "Uhm my love, you remember Shoto Todoroki don't you?" "Todoroki-kun? Yes I remember him." "He-er-we have a proposal for you." "Oh." "My queen…you know I love you more than anything, right my love?" "Just tell me what you both want! Sorry but seriously this is killing me." "Well we wanted to make a new relationship." Frantically shaking his hands as he saw your horrified expression, "Im not cheating! I mean with you like all three of us, together. The three of us…" He trailed off as he watched your face morph into a smile. Maybe you would have a change of heart. Maybe you were secretly wanting this too. Or maybe-- "#$%÷ no." "Darling!" He hated how much of an influence Kaachan had on your angry reactions. He tried to question you more but you had stood up from the couch, moving to grab your bag from your shared room. He followed after you, he needed to smooth this over soon. "(Y/n) c'mon, it's not like I want to date you both. I mean i do but I- no the thing is he really likes, no, loves both of us a lot and I really love him too and we were wondering if you were willing to try-"

"No."

Armed with your keys and totebag you swerved around his freckled arms that were reaching out for you. "But why? Don't you like him at least a little bit?" You stopped just before the door tensing before turning to look at Izuku, there were unshed tears in your eyes. " When I married you, we agreed that you were mine; that we were eachother's." He tried to hold your clenched fist but you pulled away. "Instead now your trying to give me away for something that's impossible-" "It's not impossible-" "IT IS! You can't have both of us Izuku you just can't." All Izuku registered was the slam of the door and sunken feeling in his chest. A feeling he'd have to relive when he finally told Shoto.

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x--daughters-of-darkness--x · 2 years

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EVANESCENCE's 'Bring Me To Life' Tops U.S. iTunes Chart 19 Years After Release

EVANESCENCE's breakthrough 2003 hit "Bring Me To Life" is experiencing a resurgence 19 years after its original release. The song, which initially reached No. 5 on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100 and was EVANESCENCE's first U.K. No. 1 single, is currently No. 1 on the U.S. iTunes chart.

EVANESCENCE commented on the single's return to the charts in a social media post Monday night (August 22). The band wrote: "19 years and still going strong! Bring Me To Life is #1 on iTunes. Thank you for the love!"

This past February, EVANESCENCE's music video for "Bring Me To Life" has surpassed one billion views on YouTube. The Philipp Stölzl-directed clip, which was uploaded to YouTube in December of 2009, was filmed in Romania in January 2003. It features singer Amy Lee in a night gown and barefoot, in her room, inside a tall building in the city at night. The rest of the band is playing on a higher floor of the building.

The album version of "Bring Me to Life" — which featured guest vocals from Paul McCoy of 12 STONES — was included on the soundtrack of superhero film "Daredevil".Stölzl previously stated about the video: "On the one hand, it brings out the most catchy part of the song, the bridge, the duet with the male and female vocals. On the other hand, it reflects the ['Daredevil'] soundtrack background of the song. I did not know if I would have to use a stunt double for most of the angles, which would have restricted me a lot, but then it turned out that Amy did everything herself, hanging on Paul's arm for hours without getting tired. In the end, she is the one who made that shot strong."Last year, Amy spoke to Germany's Sonic Seducer about the lyrical inspiration for "Bring Me To Life".

"I remember what I wrote 'Bring Me To Life' about, because I wrote it about my current husband before we were married," she said. "There was this moment — I was in a tough place and in a bad relationship. And my husband now, Josh, at the time was just a friend and a person that I barely knew; it was maybe the third or fourth time we'd ever met. And we went in to go grab a seat at a restaurant while our friends parked the car. And we sat across from each other, and he looked at me and he just said, 'So, are you happy?' And it took me so off guard, and I just felt like it pierced my heart, because I felt like I had been pretending really well, and it was, like, somebody could see through me. And then that whole first verse came out of it: 'How can you see into my eyes, like open doors.' It really made me feel and recognize the sense of yearning that I had to get to a better place. And it really kind of set me out on a journey. And it's amazing that that became the song, the first song that broke us on to the scene and made everyone hear of us, because it was about something — I don't know — something so personal that I was recognizing in my life."

In March 2021, Lee told Alternative Press that EVANESCENCE's original record label Wind Up threatened not to release the group's debut album, "Fallen", if she and her bandmates didn't add a male voice to lead single "Bring Me To Life" to make it more palatable for radio.

"Fallen" sold 17 million copies and won two Grammys, including "Best Rock Performance" for "Bring Me To Life".

EVANESCENCE's latest album, "The Bitter Truth", arrived in March 2021 via BMG. It was EVANESCENCE's first album of original music in ten years.

#Evanescence #Amy Lee #fallen #bring me to life #2022 news

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path-of-my-childhood · 4 years

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Musicians On Musicians: Paul McCartney & Taylor Swift

By: Patrick Doyle for Rolling Stone Date: November 13th 2020

On songwriting secrets, making albums at home, and what they’ve learned during the pandemic.

Taylor Swift arrived early to Paul McCartney’s London office in October, “mask on, brimming with excitement.” “I mostly work from home these days,” she writes about that day, “and today feels like a rare school field trip that you actually want to go on.”

Swift showed up without a team, doing her own hair and makeup. In addition to being two of the most famous pop songwriters in the world, Swift and McCartney have spent the past year on similar journeys. McCartney, isolated at home in the U.K., recorded McCartney III. Like his first solo album, in 1970, he played nearly all of the instruments himself, resulting in some of his most wildly ambitious songs in a long time. Swift also took some new chances, writing over email with the National’s Aaron Dessner and recording the raw Folklore, which abandons arena pop entirely in favor of rich character songs. It’s the bestselling album of 2020.

Swift listened to McCartney III as she prepared for today’s conversation; McCartney delved into Folkore. Before the photo shoot, Swift caught up with his daughters Mary (who would be photographing them) and Stella (who designed Swift’s clothes; the two are close friends). “I’ve met Paul a few times, mostly onstage at parties, but we’ll get to that later,” Swift writes. “Soon he walks in with his wife, Nancy. They’re a sunny and playful pair, and I immediately feel like this will be a good day. During the shoot, Paul dances and takes almost none of it too seriously and sings along to Motown songs playing from the speakers. A few times Mary scolds, ‘Daaad, try to stand still!’ And it feels like a window into a pretty awesome family dynamic. We walk into his office for a chat, and after I make a nervous request, Paul is kind enough to handwrite my favorite lyric of his and sign it. He makes a joke about me selling it, and I laugh because it’s something I know I’ll cherish for the rest of my life. That’s around the time when we start talking about music.”

Taylor Swift: I think it’s important to note that if this year had gone the way that we thought it was going to go, you and I would have played Glastonbury this year, and instead, you and I both made albums in isolation.

Paul McCartney: Yeah!

Swift: And I remember thinking it would have been so much fun because the times that I’ve run into you, I correlate with being some of the most fun nights of my life. I was at a party with you, when everybody just started playing music. And it was Dave Grohl playing, and you...

McCartney: You were playing one of his songs, weren’t you?

Swift: Yes, I was playing his song called “Best of You,” but I was playing it on piano, and he didn’t recognize it until about halfway through. I just remember thinking, “Are you the catalyst for the most fun times ever?” Is it your willingness to get up and play music that makes everyone feel like this is a thing that can happen tonight?

McCartney: I mean, I think it’s a bit of everything, isn’t it? I’ll tell you who was very... Reese Witherspoon was like, “Are you going to sing?” I said “Oh, I don’t know.” She said, “You’ve got to, yeah!” She’s bossing me around. So I said, “Whoa,” so it’s a bit of that.

Swift: I love that person, because the party does not turn musical without that person.

McCartney: Yeah, that’s true.

Swift: If nobody says, “Can you guys play music?” we’re not going to invite ourselves up onstage at whatever living-room party it is.

McCartney: I seem to remember Woody Harrelson got on the piano, and he starts playing “Let It Be,” and I’m thinking, “I can do that better.” So I said, “Come on, move over, Woody.” So we’re both playing it. It was really nice... I love people like Dan Aykroyd, who’s just full of energy and he loves his music so much, but he’s not necessarily a musician, but he just wanders around the room, just saying, “You got to get up, got to get up, do some stuff.”

Swift: I listened to your new record. And I loved a lot of things about it, but it really did feel like kind of a flex to write, produce, and play every instrument on every track. To me, that’s like flexing a muscle and saying, “I can do all this on my own if I have to.”

McCartney: Well, I don’t think like that, I must admit. I just picked up some of these instruments over the years. We had a piano at home that my dad played, so I picked around on that. I wrote the melody to “When I’m 64” when I was, you know, a teenager.

Swift: Wow.

McCartney: When the Beatles went to Hamburg, there were always drum kits knocking around, so when there was a quiet moment, I’d say, “Do you mind if I have a knock around?” So I was able to practice, you know, without practicing. That’s why I play right-handed. Guitar was just the first instrument I got. Guitar turned to bass; it also turned into ukulele, mandolin. Suddenly, it’s like, “Wow,” but it’s really only two or three instruments.

Swift: Well, I think that’s downplaying it a little bit. In my mind, it came with a visual of you being in the country, kind of absorbing the sort of do-it-yourself [quality] that has had to come with the quarantine and this pandemic. I found that I’ve adapted a do-it-yourself mentality to a lot of things in my career that I used to outsource. I’m just wondering what a day of recording in the pandemic looked like for you.

McCartney: Well, I’m very lucky because I have a studio that’s, like, 20 minutes away from where I live. We were in lockdown on a farm, a sheep farm with my daughter Mary and her four kids and her husband. So I had four of my grandkids, I had Mary, who’s a great cook, so I would just drive myself to the studio. And there were two other guys that could come in and we’d be very careful and distanced and everything: my engineer Steve, and then my equipment guy Keith. So the three of us made the record, and I just started off. I had to do a little bit of film music - I had to do an instrumental for a film thing - so I did that. And I just kept going, and that turned into the opening track on the album. I would just come in, say, “Oh, yeah, what are we gonna do?” [Then] have some sort of idea, and start doing it. Normally, I’d start with the instrument I wrote it on, either piano or guitar, and then probably add some drums and then a bit of bass till it started to sound like a record, and then just gradually layer it all up. It was fun.

Swift: That’s so cool.

McCartney: What about yours? You’re playing guitar and piano on yours.

Swift: Yeah, on some of it, but a lot of it was made with Aaron Dessner, who’s in a band called the National that I really love. And I had met him at a concert a year before, and I had a conversation with him, asking him how he writes. It’s my favorite thing to ask people who I’m a fan of. And he had an interesting answer. He said, “All the band members live in different parts of the world. So I make tracks. And I send them to our lead singer, Matt, and he writes the top line.” I just remember thinking, “That is really efficient.” And I kind of stored it in my brain as a future idea for a project. You know, how you have these ideas... “Maybe one day I’ll do this.” I always had in my head: “Maybe one day I’ll work with Aaron Dessner.”

So when lockdown happened, I was in L.A., and we kind of got stuck there. It’s not a terrible place to be stuck. We were there for four months maybe, and during that time, I sent an email to Aaron Dessner and I said, “Do you think you would want to work during this time? Because my brain is all scrambled, and I need to make something, even if we’re just kind of making songs that we don’t know what will happen...”

McCartney: Yeah, that was the thing. You could do stuff - you didn’t really worry it was going to turn into anything.

Swift: Yeah, and it turned out he had been writing instrumental tracks to keep from absolutely going crazy during the pandemic as well, so he sends me this file of probably 30 instrumentals, and the first one I opened ended up being a song called “Cardigan,” and it really happened rapid-fire like that. He’d send me a track; he’d make new tracks, add to the folder; I would write the entire top line for a song, and he wouldn’t know what the song would be about, what it was going to be called, where I was going to put the chorus. I had originally thought, “Maybe I’ll make an album in the next year, and put it out in January or something,” but it ended up being done and we put it out in July. And I just thought there are no rules anymore, because I used to put all these parameters on myself, like, “How will this song sound in a stadium? How will this song sound on radio?” If you take away all the parameters, what do you make? And I guess the answer is Folklore.

McCartney: And it’s more music for yourself than music that’s got to go do a job. My thing was similar to that: After having done this little bit of film music, I had a lot of stuff that I had been working on, but I’d said, “I’m just going home now,” and it’d be left half-finished. So I just started saying, “Well, what about that? I never finished that.” So we’d pull it out, and we said, “Oh, well, this could be good.” And because it didn’t have to amount to anything, I would say, “Ah, I really want to do tape loops. I don’t care if they fit on this song, I just want to do some.” So I go and make some tape loops, and put them in the song, just really trying to do stuff that I fancy.

I had no idea it would end up as an album; I may have been a bit less indulgent, but if a track was eight minutes long, to tell you the truth, what I thought was, “I’ll be taking it home tonight, Mary will be cooking, the grandkids will all be there running around, and someone, maybe Simon, Mary’s husband, is going to say, ‘What did you do today?’ And I’m going to go, ‘Oh,’ and then get my phone and play it for them.” So this became the ritual.

Swift: That’s the coziest thing I’ve ever heard.

McCartney: Well, it’s like eight minutes long, and I said, “I hate it when I’m playing someone something and it finishes after three minutes.” I kind of like that it just [continues] on.

Swift: You want to stay in the zone.

McCartney: It just keeps going on. I would just come home, “Well, what did you do today?” “Oh, well, I did this. I’m halfway through this,” or, “We finished this.”

Swift: I was wondering about the numerology element to McCartney III. McCartney I, II, and III have all come out on years with zeroes.

McCartney: Ends of decades.

Swift: Was that important?

McCartney: Yeah, well, this was being done in 2020, and I didn’t really think about it. I think everyone expected great things of 2020. “It’s gonna be great! Look at that number! 2020! Auspicious!” Then suddenly Covid hit, and it was like, “That’s gonna be auspicious all right, but maybe for the wrong reasons.” Someone said to me, “Well, you put out McCartney right after the Beatles broke up, and that was 1970, and then you did McCartney II in 1980.” And I said, “Oh, I’m going to release this in 2020 just for whatever you call it, the numerology...”

Swift: The numerology, the kind of look, the symbolism. I love numbers. Numbers kind of rule my whole world. The numbers 13... 89 is a big one. I have a few others that I find...

McCartney: Thirteen is lucky for some.

Swift: Yeah, it’s lucky for me. It’s my birthday. It’s all these weird coincidences of good things that have happened. Now, when I see it places, I look at it as a sign that things are going the way they’re supposed to. They may not be good now, they could be painful now, but things are on a track. I don’t know, I love the numerology.

McCartney: It’s spooky, Taylor. It’s very spooky. Now wait a minute: Where’d you get 89?

Swift: That’s when I was born, in 1989, and so I see it in different places and I just think it’s...

McCartney: No, it’s good. I like that, where certain things you attach yourself to, and you get a good feeling off them. I think that’s great.

Swift: Yeah, one of my favorite artists, Bon Iver, he has this thing with the number 22. But I was also wondering: You have always kind of seeked out a band or a communal atmosphere with like, you know, the Beatles and Wings, and then Egypt Station. I thought it was interesting when I realized you had made a record with no one else. I just wondered, did that feel natural?

McCartney: It’s one of the things I’ve done. Like with McCartney, because the Beatles had broken up, there was no alternative but to get a drum kit at home, get a guitar, get an amp, get a bass, and just make something for myself. So on that album, which I didn’t really expect to do very well, I don’t think it did. But people sort of say, “I like that. It was a very casual album.” It didn’t really have to mean anything. So I’ve done that, the play-everything-myself thing. And then I discovered synths and stuff, and sequencers, so I had a few of those at home. I just thought I’m going to play around with this and record it, so that became McCartney II. But it’s a thing I do. Certain people can do it. Stevie Wonder can do it. Stevie Winwood, I believe, has done it. So there are certain people quite like that.

When you’re working with someone else, you have to worry about their variances. Whereas your own variance, you kind of know it. It’s just something I’ve grown to like. Once you can do it, it becomes a little bit addictive. I actually made some records under the name the Fireman.

Swift: Love a pseudonym.

McCartney: Yeah, for the fun! But, you know, let’s face it, you crave fame and attention when you’re young. And I just remembered the other day, I was the guy in the Beatles that would write to journalists and say [speaks in a formal voice]: “We are a semiprofessional rock combo, and I’d think you’d like [us]... We’ve written over 100 songs (which was a lie), my friend John and I. If you mention us in your newspaper...” You know, I was always, like, craving the attention.

Swift: The hustle! That’s so great, though.

McCartney: Well, yeah, you need that.

Swift: Yeah, I think, when a pseudonym comes in is when you still have a love for making the work and you don’t want the work to become overshadowed by this thing that’s been built around you, based on what people know about you. And that’s when it’s really fun to create fake names and write under them.

McCartney: Do you ever do that?

Swift: Oh, yeah.

McCartney: Oh, yeah? Oh, well, we didn’t know that! Is that a widely known fact?

Swift: I think it is now, but it wasn’t. I wrote under the name Nils Sjöberg because those are two of the most popular names of Swedish males. I wrote this song called “This Is What You Came For” that Rihanna ended up singing. And nobody knew for a while. I remembered always hearing that when Prince wrote “Manic Monday,” they didn’t reveal it for a couple of months.

McCartney: Yeah, it also proves you can do something without the fame tag. I did something for Peter and Gordon; my girlfriend’s brother and his mate were in a band called Peter and Gordon. And I used to write under the name Bernard Webb.

Swift: [Laughs.] That’s a good one! I love it.

McCartney: As Americans call it, Ber-nard Webb. I did the Fireman thing. I worked with a producer, a guy called Youth, who’s this real cool dude. We got along great. He did a mix for me early on, and we got friendly. I would just go into the studio, and he would say, “Hey, what about this groove?” and he’d just made me have a little groove going. He’d say, “You ought to put some bass on it. Put some drums on it.” I’d just spend the whole day putting stuff on it. And we’d make these tracks, and nobody knew who Fireman was for a while. We must have sold all of 15 copies.

Swift: Thrilling, absolutely thrilling.

McCartney: And we didn’t mind, you know?

Swift: I think it’s so cool that you do projects that are just for you. Because I went with my family to see you in concert in 2010 or 2011, and the thing I took away from the show most was that it was the most selfless set list I had ever seen. It was completely geared toward what it would thrill us to hear. It had new stuff, but it had every hit we wanted to hear, every song we’d ever cried to, every song people had gotten married to, or been brokenhearted to. And I just remembered thinking, “I’ve got to remember that,” that you do that set list for your fans.

McCartney: You do that, do you?

Swift: I do now. I think that learning that lesson from you taught me at a really important stage in my career that if people want to hear “Love Story” and “Shake It Off,” and I’ve played them 300 million times, play them the 300-millionth-and-first time. I think there are times to be selfish in your career, and times to be selfless, and sometimes they line up.

McCartney: I always remembered going to concerts as a kid, completely before the Beatles, and I really hoped they would play the ones I loved. And if they didn’t, it was kind of disappointing. I had no money, and the family wasn’t wealthy. So this would be a big deal for me, to save up for months to afford the concert ticket.

Swift: Yeah, it feels like a bond. It feels like that person on the stage has given something, and it makes you as a crowd want to give even more back, in terms of applause, in terms of dedication. And I just remembered feeling that bond in the crowd, and thinking, “He’s up there playing these Beatles songs, my dad is crying, my mom is trying to figure out how to work her phone because her hands are shaking so much.” Because seeing the excitement course through not only me, but my family and the entire crowd in Nashville, it just was really special. I love learning lessons and not having to learn them the hard way. Like learning nice lessons I really value.

McCartney: Well, that’s great, and I’m glad that set you on that path. I understand people who don’t want to do that, and if you do, they’ll say, “Oh, it’s a jukebox show.” I hear what they’re saying. But I think it’s a bit of a cheat, because the people who come to our shows have spent a lot of money. We can afford to go to a couple of shows and it doesn’t make much difference. But a lot of ordinary working folks... it’s a big event in their life, and so I try and deliver. I also, like you say, try and put in a few weirdos.

Swift: That’s the best. I want to hear current things, too, to update me on where the artist is. I was wondering about lyrics, and where you were lyrically when you were making this record. Because when I was making Folklore, I went lyrically in a total direction of escapism and romanticism. And I wrote songs imagining I was, like, a pioneer woman in a forbidden love affair [laughs]. I was completely...

McCartney: Was this “I want to give you a child”? Is that one of the lines?

Swift: Oh, that’s a song called “Peace.”

McCartney: “Peace,” I like that one.

Swift: “Peace” is actually more rooted in my personal life. I know you have done a really excellent job of this in your personal life: carving out a human life within a public life, and how scary that can be when you do fall in love and you meet someone, especially if you’ve met someone who has a very grounded, normal way of living. I, oftentimes, in my anxieties, can control how I am as a person and how normal I act and rationalize things, but I cannot control if there are 20 photographers outside in the bushes and what they do and if they follow our car and if they interrupt our lives. I can’t control if there’s going to be a fake weird headline about us in the news tomorrow.

McCartney: So how does that go? Does your partner sympathize with that and understand?

Swift: Oh, absolutely.

McCartney: They have to, don’t they?

Swift: But I think that in knowing him and being in the relationship I am in now, I have definitely made decisions that have made my life feel more like a real life and less like just a storyline to be commented on in tabloids. Whether that’s deciding where to live, who to hang out with, when to not take a picture - the idea of privacy feels so strange to try to explain, but it’s really just trying to find bits of normalcy. That’s what that song “Peace” is talking about. Like, would it be enough if I could never fully achieve the normalcy that we both crave? Stella always tells me that she had as normal a childhood as she could ever hope for under the circumstances.

McCartney: Yeah, it was very important to us to try and keep their feet on the ground amongst the craziness.

Swift: She went to a regular school...

McCartney: Yeah, she did.

Swift: And you would go trick-or-treating with them, wearing masks.

McCartney: All of them did, yeah. It was important, but it worked pretty well, because when they kind of reached adulthood, they would meet other kids who might have gone to private schools, who were a little less grounded.

And they could be the budding mothers to [kids]. I remember Mary had a friend, Orlando. Not Bloom. She used to really counsel him. And it’s ’cause she’d gone through that. Obviously, they got made fun of, my kids. They’d come in the classroom and somebody would sing, “Na na na na,” you know, one of the songs. And they’d have to handle that. They’d have to front it out.

Swift: Did that give you a lot of anxiety when you had kids, when you felt like all this pressure that’s been put on me is spilling over onto them, that they didn’t sign up for it? Was that hard for you?

McCartney: Yeah, a little bit, but it wasn’t like it is now. You know, we were just living a kind of semi-hippie life, where we withdrew from a lot of stuff. The kids would be doing all the ordinary things, and their school friends would be coming up to the house and having parties, and it was just great. I remember one lovely evening when it was Stella’s birthday, and she brought a bunch of school kids up. And, you know, they’d all ignore me. It happens very quickly. At first they’re like, “Oh, yeah, he’s like a famous guy,” and then it’s like [yawns]. I like that. I go in the other room and suddenly I hear this music going on. And one of the kids, his name was Luke, and he’s doing break dancing.

Swift: Ohhh!

McCartney: He was a really good break dancer, so all the kids are hanging out. That allowed them to be kind of normal with those kids. The other thing is, I don’t live fancy. I really don’t. Sometimes it’s a little bit of an embarrassment, if I’ve got someone coming to visit me, or who I know…

Swift: Cares about that stuff?

McCartney: Who’s got a nice big house, you know. Quincy Jones came to see me and I’m, like, making him a veggie burger or something. I’m doing some cooking. This was after I’d lost Linda, in between there. But the point I’m making is that I’m very consciously thinking, “Oh, God, Quincy’s got to be thinking, ‘What is this guy on? He hasn’t got big things going on. It’s not a fancy house at all. And we’re eating in the kitchen! He’s not even got the dining room going,’” you know?

Swift: I think that sounds like a perfect day.

McCartney: But that’s me. I’m awkward like that. That’s my kind of thing. Maybe I should have, like, a big stately home. Maybe I should get a staff. But I think I couldn’t do that. I’d be so embarrassed. I’d want to walk around dressed as I want to walk around, or naked, if I wanted to.

Swift: That can’t happen in Downton Abbey.

McCartney: [Laughs.] Exactly.

Swift: I remember what I wanted to know about, which is lyrics. Like, when you’re in this kind of strange, unparalleled time, and you’re making this record, are lyrics first? Or is it when you get a little melodic idea?

McCartney: It was a bit of both. As it kind of always is with me. There’s no fixed way. People used to ask me and John, “Well, who does the words, who does the music?” I used to say, “We both do both.” We used to say we don’t have a formula, and we don’t want one. Because the minute we get a formula, we should rip it up. I will sometimes, as I did with a couple of songs on this album, sit down at the piano and just start noodling around, and I’ll get a little idea and start to fill that out. So the lyrics - for me, it’s following a trail. I’ll start [sings “Find My Way,” a song from “McCartney III”]: “I can find my way. I know my left from right, da da da.” And I’ll just sort of fill it in. Like, we know this song, and I’m trying to remember the lyrics. Sometimes I’ll just be inspired by something. I had a little book which was all about the constellations and the stars and the orbits of Venus and...

Swift: Oh, I know that song - “The Kiss of Venus”?

McCartney: Yeah, “The Kiss of Venus.” And I just thought, “That’s a nice phrase.” So I was actually just taking phrases out of the book, harmonic sounds. And the book is talking about the maths of the universe, and how when things orbit around each other, and if you trace all the patterns, it becomes like a lotus flower.

Swift: Wow.

McCartney: It’s very magical.

Swift: That is magical. I definitely relate to needing to find magical things in this very not-magical time, needing to read more books and learn to sew, and watch movies that take place hundreds of years ago. In a time where, if you look at the news, you just want to have a panic attack - I really relate to the idea that you are thinking about stars and constellations.

McCartney: Did you do that on Folklore?

Swift: Yes. I was reading so much more than I ever did, and watching so many more films.

McCartney: What stuff were you reading?

Swift: I was reading, you know, books like Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier, which I highly recommend, and books that dealt with times past, a world that doesn’t exist anymore. I was also using words I always wanted to use - kind of bigger, flowerier, prettier words, like “epiphany,” in songs. I always thought, “Well, that’ll never track on pop radio,” but when I was making this record, I thought, “What tracks? Nothing makes sense anymore. If there’s chaos everywhere, why don’t I just use the damn word I want to use in the song?”

McCartney: Exactly. So you’d see the word in a book and think, “I love that word”?

Swift: Yeah, I have favorite words, like “elegies” and “epiphany” and “divorcée,” and just words that I think sound beautiful, and I have lists and lists of them.

McCartney: How about “marzipan”?

Swift: Love “marzipan.”

McCartney: The other day, I was remembering when we wrote “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds”: “kaleidoscope.”

Swift: “Kaleidoscope” is one of mine! I have a song on 1989, a song called “Welcome to New York,” that I put the word “kaleidoscope” in just because I’m obsessed with the word.

McCartney: I think a love of words is a great thing, particularly if you’re going to try to write a lyric, and for me, it’s like, “What is this going to say to that person?” I often feel like I’m writing to someone who is not doing so well. So I’m trying to write songs that might help. Not in a goody-goody, crusading kind of way, but just thinking there have been so many times in my life when I’ve heard a song and felt so much better. I think that’s the angle I want, that inspirational thing.

I remember once, a friend of mine from Liverpool, we were teenagers and we were going to a fairground. He was a schoolmate, and we had these jackets that had a little fleck in the material, which was the cool thing at the time.

Swift: We should have done matching jackets for this photo shoot.

McCartney: Find me a fleck, I’m in. But we went to the fair, and I just remember - this is what happens with songs - there was this girl at the fair. This is just a little Liverpool fair - it was in a place called Sefton Park - and there was this girl, who was so beautiful. She wasn’t a star. She was so beautiful. Everyone was following her, and it’s like, “Wow.” It’s like a magical scene, you know? But all this gave me a headache, so I ended up going back to his house - I didn’t normally get headaches. And we thought, “What can we do?” So we put on the Elvis song “All Shook Up.” By the end of that song, my headache had gone. I thought, you know, “That’s powerful.”

Swift: That really is powerful.

McCartney: I love that, when people stop me in the street and say, “Oh, I was going through an illness and I listened to a lot of your stuff, and I’m better now and it got me through,” or kids will say, “It got me through exams.” You know, they’re studying, they’re going crazy, but they put your music on. I’m sure it happens with a lot of your fans. It inspires them, you know?

Swift: Yeah, I definitely think about that as a goal. There’s so much stress everywhere you turn that I kind of wanted to make an album that felt sort of like a hug, or like your favorite sweater that makes you feel like you want to put it on.

McCartney: What, a “cardigan”?

Swift: Like a good cardigan, a good, worn-in cardigan. Or something that makes you reminisce on your childhood. I think sadness can be cozy. It can obviously be traumatic and stressful, too, but I kind of was trying to lean into sadness that feels like somehow enveloping in not such a scary way - like nostalgia and whimsy incorporated into a feeling like you’re not all right. Because I don’t think anybody was really feeling like they were in their prime this year. Isolation can mean escaping into your imagination in a way that’s kind of nice.

McCartney: I think a lot of people have found that. I would say to people, “I feel a bit guilty about saying I’m actually enjoying this quarantine thing,” and people go, “Yeah, I know, don’t say it to anyone.” A lot of people are really suffering.

Swift: Because there’s a lot in life that’s arbitrary. Completely and totally arbitrary. And [the quarantine] is really shining a light on that, and also a lot of things we have that we outsource that you can actually do yourself.

McCartney: I love that. This is why I said I live simply. That’s, like, at the core of it. With so many things, something goes wrong and you go, “Oh, I’ll get somebody to fix that.” And then it’s like, “No, let me have a look at it...”

Swift: Get a hammer and a nail.

McCartney: “Maybe I can put that picture up.” It’s not rocket science. The period after the Beatles, when we went to live in Scotland on a really - talk about dumpy - little farm. I mean, I see pictures of it now and I’m not ashamed, but I’m almost ashamed. Because it’s like, “God, nobody’s cleaned up around here.”

But it was really a relief. Because when I was with the Beatles, we’d formed Apple Records, and if I wanted a Christmas tree, someone would just buy it. And I thought, after a while, “No, you know what? I really would like to go and buy our Christmas tree. Because that’s what everyone does.” So you go down - “I’ll have that one” - and you carried it back. I mean, it’s little, but it’s huge at the same time.

I needed a table in Scotland and I was looking through a catalog and I thought, “I could make one. I did woodwork in school, so I know what a dovetail joint is.” So I just figured it out. I’m just sitting in the kitchen, and I’m whittling away at this wood and I made this little joint. There was no nail technology - it was glue. And I was scared to put it together. I said, “It’s not going to fit,” but one day, I got my woodwork glue and thought, “There’s no going back.” But it turned out to be a real nice little table I was very proud of. It was that sense of achievement.

The weird thing was, Stella went up to Scotland recently and I said, “Isn’t it there?” and she said, “No.” Anyway, I searched for it. Nobody remembered it. Somebody said, “Well, there’s a pile of wood in the corner of one of the barns, maybe that’s it. Maybe they used it for firewood.” I said, “No, it’s not firewood.” Anyway, we found it, and do you know how joyous that was for me? I was like, “You found my table?!” Somebody might say that’s a bit boring.

Swift: No, it’s cool!

McCartney: But it was a real sort of great thing for me to be able to do stuff for yourself. You were talking about sewing. I mean normally, in your position, you’ve got any amount of tailors.

Swift: Well, there’s been a bit of a baby boom recently; several of my friends have gotten pregnant.

McCartney: Oh, yeah, you’re at the age.

Swift: And I was just thinking, “I really want to spend time with my hands, making something for their children.” So I made this really cool flying-squirrel stuffed animal that I sent to one of my friends. I sent a teddy bear to another one, and I started making these little silk baby blankets with embroidery. It’s gotten pretty fancy. And I’ve been painting a lot.

McCartney: What do you paint? Watercolors?

Swift: Acrylic or oil. Whenever I do watercolor, all I paint is flowers. When I have oil, I really like to do landscapes. I always kind of return to painting a lonely little cottage on a hill.

McCartney: It’s a bit of a romantic dream. I agree with you, though, I think you’ve got to have dreams, particularly this year. You’ve got to have something to escape to. When you say “escapism,” it sounds like a dirty word, but this year, it definitely wasn’t. And in the books you’re reading, you’ve gone into that world. That’s, I think, a great thing. Then you come back out. I normally will read a lot before I go to bed. So I’ll come back out, then I’ll go to sleep, so I think it really is nice to have those dreams that can be fantasies or stuff you want to achieve.

Swift: You’re creating characters. This was the first album where I ever created characters, or wrote about the life of a real-life person. There’s a song called “The Last Great American Dynasty” that’s about this real-life heiress who lived just an absolutely chaotic, hectic...

McCartney: She’s a fantasy character?

Swift: She’s a real person. Who lived in the house that I live in.

McCartney: She’s a real person? I listened to that and I thought, “Who is this?”

Swift: Her name was Rebekah Harkness. And she lived in the house that I ended up buying in Rhode Island. That’s how I learned about her. But she was a woman who was very, very talked about, and everything she did was scandalous. I found a connection in that. But I also was thinking about how you write “Eleanor Rigby” and go into that whole story about what all these people in this town are doing and how their lives intersect, and I hadn’t really done that in a very long time with my music. It had always been so microscope personal.

McCartney: Yeah, ’cause you were writing breakup songs like they were going out of style.

Swift: I was, before my luck changed [laughs]. I still write breakup songs. I love a good breakup song. Because somewhere in the world, I always have a friend going through a breakup, and that will make me write one.

McCartney: Yeah, this goes back to this thing of me and John: When you’ve got a formula, break it. I don’t have a formula. It’s the mood I’m in. So I love the idea of writing a character. And, you know, trying to think, “What am I basing this on?” So “Eleanor Rigby” was based on old ladies I knew as a kid. For some reason or other, I got great relationships with a couple of local old ladies. I was thinking the other day, I don’t know how I met them, it wasn’t like they were family. I’d just run into them, and I’d do their shopping for them.

Swift: That’s amazing.

McCartney: It just felt good to me. I would sit and talk, and they’d have amazing stories. That’s what I liked. They would have stories from the wartime - because I was born actually in the war - and so these old ladies, they were participating in the war. This one lady I used to sort of just hang out with, she had a crystal radio that I found very magical. In the war, a lot of people made their own radios - you’d make them out of crystals [sings “The Twilight Zone” theme].

Swift: How did I not know this? That sounds like something I would have tried to learn about.

McCartney: It’s interesting, because there is a lot of parallels with the virus and lockdowns and wartime. It happened to everyone. Like, this isn’t HIV, or SARS, or Avian flu, which happened to others, generally. This has happened to everyone, all around the world. That’s the defining thing about this particular virus. And, you know, my parents... it happened to everyone in Britain, including the queen and Churchill. War happened. So they were all part of this thing, and they all had to figure out a way through it. So you figured out Folklore. I figured out McCartney III.

Swift: And a lot of people have been baking sourdough bread. Whatever gets you through!

McCartney: Some people used to make radios. And they’d take a crystal - we should look it up, but it actually is a crystal. I thought, “Oh, no, they just called it a crystal radio,” but it’s actually crystals like we know and love.

Swift: Wow.

McCartney: And somehow they get the radio waves - this crystal attracts them - they tune it in, and that’s how they used to get their news. Back to “Eleanor Rigby,” so I would think of her and think of what she’s doing and then just try to get lyrical, just try to bring poetry into it, words you love, just try to get images like “picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been,” and Father McKenzie “is darning his socks in the night.” You know, he’s a religious man, so I could’ve said, you know, “preparing his Bible,” which would have been more obvious. But “darning his socks” kind of says more about him. So you get into this lovely fantasy. And that’s the magic of songs, you know. It’s a black hole, and then you start doing this process, and then there’s this beautiful little flower that you’ve just made. So it is very like embroidery, making something.

Swift: Making a table.

McCartney: Making a table.

Swift: Wow, it would’ve been so fun to play Glastonbury for the 50th anniversary together.

McCartney: It would’ve been great, wouldn’t it? And I was going to be asking you to play with me.

Swift: Were you going to invite me? I was hoping that you would. I was going to ask you.

McCartney: I would’ve done “Shake It Off.”

Swift: Oh, my God, that would have been amazing.

McCartney: I know it, it’s in C!

Swift: One thing I just find so cool about you is that you really do seem to have the joy of it, still, just no matter what. You seem to have the purest sense of joy of playing an instrument and making music, and that’s just the best, I think.

McCartney: Well, we’re just so lucky, aren’t we?

Swift: We’re really lucky.

McCartney: I don’t know if it ever happens to you, but with me, it’s like, “Oh, my god, I’ve ended up as a musician.”

Swift: Yeah, I can’t believe it’s my job.

McCartney: I must tell you a story I told Mary the other day, which is just one of my favorite little sort of Beatles stories. We were in a terrible, big blizzard, going from London to Liverpool, which we always did. We’d be working in London and then drive back in the van, just the four of us with our roadie, who would be driving. And this was a blizzard. You couldn’t see the road. At one point, it slid off and it went down an embankment. So it was “Ahhh,” a bunch of yelling. We ended up at the bottom. It didn’t flip, luckily, but so there we are, and then it’s like, “Oh, how are we going to get back up? We’re in a van. It’s snowing, and there’s no way.” We’re all standing around in a little circle, and thinking, “What are we going to do?” And one of us said, “Well, something will happen.” And I thought that was just the greatest. I love that, that’s a philosophy.

Swift: “Something will happen.”

McCartney: And it did. We sort of went up the bank, we thumbed a lift, we got the lorry driver to take us, and Mal, our roadie, sorted the van and everything. So that was kind of our career. And I suppose that’s like how I ended up being a musician and a songwriter: “Something will happen.”

Swift: That’s the best.

McCartney: It’s so stupid it’s brilliant. It’s great if you’re ever in that sort of panic attack: “Oh, my God,” or, “Ahhh, what am I going to do?”

Swift: “Something will happen.”

McCartney: All right then, thanks for doing this, and this was, you know, a lot of fun.

Swift: You’re the best. This was so awesome. Those were some quality stories!

#this just might be the longest post I have ever posted #I have so much work so I'll read and edit later #taylor swift #paul mccartney #Rolling Stone magazine #interview #folklore era

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nordleuchten · 2 years

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Hi, how are you doing?? Hope you're alright wherever you are!

So, I was making some research about the marquis and I had 2 questions that poped up to my mind which I couldn't find the answear for online:

1. How many stories do we have Lafayette as a child still living at the Chavaniac. I've heard of the one where he once went looking for the beast of gévaudan, but if he had the guts to go after it so young, that mustn't be the only thing he did;

and 2. I've acidently came across three quotes from the book "The Woman of the Chatêau Lafayette" and, while they sound amazing, I doubt it's veracity, for as the saying goes "if something sounds too good to be true, the it probably isn't."

This first quote, Adrienne was supposed to be hosting a bishop or something but she refused to go, and feeling bad that she might've disapointed her husband, she went to try to apologize bur heard Lafayette saying

"Sir," Lafayette began, "I do not share my wife’s religious beliefs, but if you knew my marriage, you would realize that she is not my subject , nor would I wish her to be. She is a woman of high-minded principle and the model of kindness; of a character we would all do well to emulate. I would no more crush my wife’s spirit than I would persecute any other citizen for matters of conscience. And I promise that if you try to crush her spirit, you will find me in your way, sword in hand."

this other one isn't much of a quote but, more like a moment, it is during the beggining of the french revolution, and he and the duc d'Orlean if I remember correctly are discussing, and Lafayette threatens him (?) to leave to Englad and to not be back.

The third one is, at the National Assembly, he says some controversial stuff and, to punish him, they took off some titles from his name, and he signed his name on the last record of the session without any noble title or military rank at all, just Lafayette.

Again, I have no idea if any of this us true, and I'm sorry for basically just using you to fact check some stuff since my searching habilities are basically zero lol, but thank you very much =))

p.s. here talking about the frev, how the americans viewed lafayette's role in it? and how did his friends did?

Hello Anon,

that are a lot of questions, so let us try to tackle them one by one, shall we? ;-)

1. Childhood Stories

No, sadly I do not know a lot of childhood stories. La Fayette did not reference his childhood often in his own writings and this time in his life appears to not have been remarkable. He was a young Marquis from a mediocre family at the time. His wealth was also greatly limited at that time because he inherited most of his money from his maternal-grandfather and he was still alive at that point in time. The Auvergne was far away from the bustling cities like Paris or the court in Versailles. La Fayette grew up in the countryside with his grandmother (a very remarkable women in her own right), his two aunts and a cousin. His childhood was by all accounts a very happy one, but a mostly uneventful one - or the stories were not preserved. The earliest stories I know about start when La Fayette entered the schools of Paris at around twelve years of age.

2. The Bishop of Paris

This incident as depicted in the book (Stepahnie Dray, The Women of Chateau Lafayette, Penguin LCC US, New York, 2021, p. 320-321.) is for the most part factual and happened that way. A little bit of background for everybody who has not read the book and/or is not familiar with this aspect of revolutionary France: the clergy was ordered to swear the oath of the Civil Constitution of the Clergy (January 3, 1791) - some clergymen took the oath, some refused and some even fled the country. Adrienne was absolutely against the idea that a priest should swear this civic oath - and she was quite open about this. The Archbishop of Paris, Antoine-Elénore-Léon Le Clerc de Juigné, who had sworn the civic oath as well, left France in 1790 because he became alarmed by the turn the Revolution had taken. In his place Jean-Baptiste-Joseph-Gobel became Archbishop of Paris. Now, Gobel was never recognized by the pope, he was described by some of his contemporaries as an atheist and he was opposed to some of the pillars of the roman-catholic believe - in short, he was no one with whom devout Adrienne would ever get along. Here is what Adrienne’s daughter Virginie wrote in her book:

My father often received constitutional clergymen at dinner. On those occasions, my mother would express before them her attachment to the cause of the former bishops. She would discuss her opinion with those whose personal character she esteemed, and in these conversations she manifested such enlightened views, gave proofs of so much sincerity, and was, at the same time, so careful of offending, that no one could be wounded by the expression of her feelings. Independently of their conduct or opinions, all were received by her according to my father’s wishes, without her own consideration being diminished, because she preserved on every subject the liberty of expressing her way of thinking. Once only did she depart from the rule she had laid down for herself, that of receiving all sorts of persons equally well; it was the day when the bishop of Paris, after his instalment, came to dine at my father’s. He did not, like his colleagues, come as a private individual and she declined receiving him as bishop of the diocese. Accordingly, she dined out that day, although her doing so was much remarked.

I purposefully included a longer passage, to give you an understanding of the general scene at the time. We see that the events, the dinner, Adrienne being absent, happened just as described in the book. Do we know if La Fayette and Gobel had a conversation? No. But given the general stir that Adrienne’s absent caused, we can be quite sure that a conversation of some sort took place. You can say a lot about La Fayette as a husband but in his very own way he was very loyal to Adrienne and he would have never chosen Gobel over her (since he also did not appear to be terrible pleased with Gobel himself.) Where either he or Gobel that direct and harsh in their wording? We do not know, maybe not. I am certain though that La Fayette defended Adrienne’s actions in front of Gobel or anybody else.

3. The Duc d’Orléons

La Fayette and Louis Philippe II, Duke of Orléans had a disastrous relationship on good days and an even worse one on bad days. (What is somewhat ironic since he basically made d’Orléans son king - but the relationship between La Fayette and Phillipe I soured soon as well. Like father like son. :-)) Here is the quote from the book you were referring to (at least I hope I’ve got the right one :-.)

Philippe lifted his chin. “What do you want, General Redhead?”

“To warn that Paris is no longer safe for you.”

Philippe laughed. “I am safer in Paris than you.”

More than fifteen years of enmity between the two men had finally brought them to this reckoning, and I saw murder in my husband’s eyes. “Understand, sir, that you are not safe anywhere I am.”

Philippe stopped laughing. “You are threatening me.”

Lafayette’s expression was cold, like frigid mountain air. “My wife tells me you have friends in England. Visit them.”

Philippe was not accustomed to taking orders. “Or what?”

In answer, Lafayette put his hand upon the pommel of his sword. The one carved with his great deeds in America. And I realized there might very well be bloodshed in my parlor. Philippe must have realized it too. He glanced at me, but I kept my eyes hard.

For once in his life, Philippe gauged us properly. “I will apply for a passport.”

My husband nodded. “It will be granted.”

Stepahnie Dray, The Women of Chateau Lafayette, Penguin LCC US, New York, 2021, p. 292-293.

Now, I do not know of any such particular stand-off between the two of them, but there really was no love left. Was La Fayette that direct in his manners with d’Orléans? I personally doubt it and would think he had himself more under control (he certainly would not have murdered d’Orléans and even less so in his own parlour with his wife present and his children maybe upstairs) but La Fayette, when under pressure, could also sometimes be very rash. Just like with the last question; the general scenario is correct but we will never know the exact details.

4. La Fayette and his titles

Sooo, I think and hope that your last quote was in reference to this scene from the book:

So Gilbert set aside his poultices. He caught his breath. He returned to Versailles. And there, he rose in the assembly to rain down thunder. He protested corruption and wasteful spending. He supported reforms in the judicial system to prevent torture and unjust convictions. And perhaps most controversial of all, he argued for a motion to grant civil rights to Protestants and Jews.

Gilbert rose again and again, like a colossus.

To punish him, the royals divested him of his rank as field marshal. And in response, he defiantly signed his name on the last record of the session without any noble title or military rank at all.

Lafayette.

The name we shared.

A name that would, henceforth, speak for itself.

Stepahnie Dray, The Women of Chateau Lafayette, Penguin LCC US, New York, 2021, p. 248.

While La Fayette knew and was friends with many like-minded nobles (they even called themselves the “Fayettists”) and there were still members of the nobility who were way more progressive and sympathetic towards the Revolution than La Fayette was, his relationship with the royals was often taunt and marked by mutual mistrust. The abolishing of titles was a notion introduced by a relative of La Fayette’s and he supported the idea wholeheartedly - what really makes me stumble is the passage where La Fayette was supposedly stripped of his rank as a field-marshal. I am not as firm with La Fayette’s military titles as I should be but I really do not know when that should have taken place. La Fayette entered the Revolution as a Maréchal de Camp and he was promoted to Lieutenant Général on June 30, 1791. This timeline intrigues me and will look that up and make a separate post about his ranks and how he got or lost them. Until then, please be patient with me. :-)

Maybe as a closing though - the name La Fayette did indeed came to speak for itself, without the need of military or noble titles.

You also asked about the perception different people had about La Fayette’s role during the French Revolution - since that is such a lengthy and complex topic on its own, I would like to make a separate and detailed post about that as well. I will put it on my list (and no worries, I take good care of my list. :-))

I hope that answered all your question thus far and I hope you have/had a lovely day!

#ask me anything #anon #marquis de lafayette #la fayette #french history #history #american history #french revolution #the women of chateau lafayette #stephanie dray #adrienne de lafayette #adrienne de noailles #virginie de lafayette #duc d'orléans #1791

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sgt-paul · 4 years

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MUSICIANS ON MUSICIANS: Paul McCartney & Taylor Swift

❝ During the shoot, Paul dances and takes almost none of it too seriously and sings along to Motown songs playing from the speakers. A few times Mary scolds, ‘Daaad, try to stand still!’ And it feels like a window into a pretty awesome family dynamic. ❞

interview below the cut:

Paul McCartney: Yeah!

McCartney: You were playing one of his songs, weren’t you?

McCartney: I mean, I think it’s a bit of everything, isn’t it? I’ll tell you who was very … Reese Witherspoon was like, “Are you going to sing?” I said “Oh, I don’t know.” She said, “You’ve got to, yeah!” She’s bossing me around. So I said, “Whoa,” so it’s a bit of that.

Swift: I love that person, because the party does not turn musical without that person.

McCartney: Yeah, that’s true.

Swift: If nobody says, “Can you guys play music?” we’re not going to invite ourselves up onstage at whatever living-room party it is.

McCartney: I seem to remember Woody Harrelson got on the piano, and he starts playing “Let It Be,” and I’m thinking, “I can do that better.” So I said, “Come on, move over, Woody.” So we’re both playing it. It was really nice.… I love people like Dan Aykroyd, who’s just full of energy and he loves his music so much, but he’s not necessarily a musician, but he just wanders around the room, just saying, “You got to get up, got to get up, do some stuff.”

Swift: Wow.

McCartney: Well, I’m very lucky because I have a studio that’s, like, 20 minutes away from where I live. We were in lockdown on a farm, a sheep farm with my daughter Mary and her four kids and her husband. So I had four of my grandkids, I had Mary, who’s a great cook, so I would just drive myself to the studio. And there were two other guys that could come in and we’d be very careful and distanced and everything: my engineer Steve, and then my equipment guy Keith. So the three of us made the record, and I just started off. I had to do a little bit of film music — I had to do an instrumental for a film thing — so I did that. And I just kept going, and that turned into the opening track on the album. I would just come in, say, “Oh, yeah, what are we gonna do?” [Then] have some sort of idea, and start doing it. Normally, I’d start with the instrument I wrote it on, either piano or guitar, and then probably add some drums and then a bit of bass till it started to sound like a record, and then just gradually layer it all up. It was fun.

Swift: That’s so cool.

McCartney: What about yours? You’re playing guitar and piano on yours.

Swift: Yeah, on some of it, but a lot of it was made with Aaron Dessner, who’s in a band called the National that I really love. And I had met him at a concert a year before, and I had a conversation with him, asking him how he writes. It’s my favorite thing to ask people who I’m a fan of. And he had an interesting answer. He said, “All the band members live in different parts of the world. So I make tracks. And I send them to our lead singer, Matt, and he writes the top line.” I just remember thinking, “That is really efficient.” And I kind of stored it in my brain as a future idea for a project. You know, how you have these ideas… “Maybe one day I’ll do this.” I always had in my head: “Maybe one day I’ll work with Aaron Dessner.”

McCartney: Yeah, that was the thing. You could do stuff — you didn’t really worry it was going to turn into anything.

Swift: That’s the coziest thing I’ve ever heard.

McCartney: Well, it’s like eight minutes long, and I said, “I hate it when I’m playing someone something and it finishes after three minutes.” I kind of like that it just [continues] on.

Swift: You want to stay in the zone.

McCartney: It just keeps going on. I would just come home, “Well, what did you do today?” “Oh, well, I did this. I’m halfway through this,” or, “We finished this.”

Swift: I was wondering about the numerology element to McCartney III. McCartney I, II, and III have all come out on years with zeroes.

McCartney: Ends of decades.

Swift: Was that important?

Swift: The numerology, the kind of look, the symbolism. I love numbers. Numbers kind of rule my whole world. The numbers 13 … 89 is a big one. I have a few others that I find…

McCartney: Thirteen is lucky for some.

McCartney: It’s spooky, Taylor. It’s very spooky. Now wait a minute: Where’d you get 89?

Swift: That’s when I was born, in 1989, and so I see it in different places and I just think it’s…

McCartney: No, it’s good. I like that, where certain things you attach yourself to, and you get a good feeling off them. I think that’s great.

Swift: Love a pseudonym.

McCartney: Yeah, for the fun! But, you know, let’s face it, you crave fame and attention when you’re young. And I just remembered the other day, I was the guy in the Beatles that would write to journalists and say [speaks in a formal voice]: “We are a semiprofessional rock combo, and I’d think you’d like [us].… We’ve written over 100 songs (which was a lie), my friend John and I. If you mention us in your newspaper…” You know, I was always, like, craving the attention.

Swift: The hustle! That’s so great, though.

McCartney: Well, yeah, you need that.

McCartney: Do you ever do that?

Swift: Oh, yeah.

McCartney: Oh, yeah? Oh, well, we didn’t know that! Is that a widely known fact?

Swift: [Laughs.] That’s a good one! I love it.

Swift: Thrilling, absolutely thrilling.

McCartney: And we didn’t mind, you know?

McCartney: You do that, do you?

McCartney: Well, that’s great, and I’m glad that set you on that path. I understand people who don’t want to do that, and if you do, they’ll say, “Oh, it’s a jukebox show.” I hear what they’re saying. But I think it’s a bit of a cheat, because the people who come to our shows have spent a lot of money. We can afford to go to a couple of shows and it doesn’t make much difference. But a lot of ordinary working folks … it’s a big event in their life, and so I try and deliver. I also, like you say, try and put in a few weirdos.

McCartney: Was this “I want to give you a child”? Is that one of the lines?

Swift: Oh, that’s a song called “Peace.”

McCartney: “Peace,” I like that one.

McCartney: So how does that go? Does your partner sympathize with that and understand?

Swift: Oh, absolutely.

McCartney: They have to, don’t they?

Swift: But I think that in knowing him and being in the relationship I am in now, I have definitely made decisions that have made my life feel more like a real life and less like just a storyline to be commented on in tabloids. Whether that’s deciding where to live, who to hang out with, when to not take a picture — the idea of privacy feels so strange to try to explain, but it’s really just trying to find bits of normalcy. That’s what that song “Peace” is talking about. Like, would it be enough if I could never fully achieve the normalcy that we both crave? Stella always tells me that she had as normal a childhood as she could ever hope for under the circumstances.

McCartney: Yeah, it was very important to us to try and keep their feet on the ground amongst the craziness.

Swift: She went to a regular school .…

McCartney: Yeah, she did.

Swift: And you would go trick-or-treating with them, wearing masks.

Swift: Ohhh!

Swift: Cares about that stuff?

Swift: I think that sounds like a perfect day.

Swift: That can’t happen in Downton Abbey.

McCartney: [Laughs.] Exactly.

McCartney: It was a bit of both. As it kind of always is with me. There’s no fixed way. People used to ask me and John, “Well, who does the words, who does the music?” I used to say, “We both do both.” We used to say we don’t have a formula, and we don’t want one. Because the minute we get a formula, we should rip it up. I will sometimes, as I did with a couple of songs on this album, sit down at the piano and just start noodling around, and I’ll get a little idea and start to fill that out. So the lyrics — for me, it’s following a trail. I’ll start [sings “Find My Way,” a song from “McCartney III”]: “I can find my way. I know my left from right, da da da.” And I’ll just sort of fill it in. Like, we know this song, and I’m trying to remember the lyrics. Sometimes I’ll just be inspired by something. I had a little book which was all about the constellations and the stars and the orbits of Venus and.…

Swift: Oh, I know that song — “The Kiss of Venus”?

Swift: Wow.

McCartney: It’s very magical.

Swift: That is magical. I definitely relate to needing to find magical things in this very not-magical time, needing to read more books and learn to sew, and watch movies that take place hundreds of years ago. In a time where, if you look at the news, you just want to have a panic attack — I really relate to the idea that you are thinking about stars and constellations.

McCartney: Did you do that on Folklore?

Swift: Yes. I was reading so much more than I ever did, and watching so many more films.

McCartney: What stuff were you reading?

Swift: I was reading, you know, books like Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier, which I highly recommend, and books that dealt with times past, a world that doesn’t exist anymore. I was also using words I always wanted to use — kind of bigger, flowerier, prettier words, like “epiphany,” in songs. I always thought, “Well, that’ll never track on pop radio,” but when I was making this record, I thought, “What tracks? Nothing makes sense anymore. If there’s chaos everywhere, why don’t I just use the damn word I want to use in the song?”

McCartney: Exactly. So you’d see the word in a book and think, “I love that word”?

Swift: Yeah, I have favorite words, like “elegies” and “epiphany” and “divorcée,” and just words that I think sound beautiful, and I have lists and lists of them.

McCartney: How about “marzipan”?

Swift: Love “marzipan.”

McCartney: The other day, I was remembering when we wrote “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds”: “kaleidoscope.”

Swift: “Kaleidoscope” is one of mine! I have a song on 1989, a song called “Welcome to New York,” that I put the word “kaleidoscope” in just because I’m obsessed with the word.

Swift: We should have done matching jackets for this photo shoot.

McCartney: Find me a fleck, I’m in. But we went to the fair, and I just remember — this is what happens with songs — there was this girl at the fair. This is just a little Liverpool fair — it was in a place called Sefton Park — and there was this girl, who was so beautiful. She wasn’t a star. She was so beautiful. Everyone was following her, and it’s like, “Wow.” It’s like a magical scene, you know? But all this gave me a headache, so I ended up going back to his house — I didn’t normally get headaches. And we thought, “What can we do?” So we put on the Elvis song “All Shook Up.” By the end of that song, my headache had gone. I thought, you know, “That’s powerful.”

Swift: That really is powerful.

McCartney: What, a “cardigan”?

Swift: Like a good cardigan, a good, worn-in cardigan. Or something that makes you reminisce on your childhood. I think sadness can be cozy. It can obviously be traumatic and stressful, too, but I kind of was trying to lean into sadness that feels like somehow enveloping in not such a scary way — like nostalgia and whimsy incorporated into a feeling like you’re not all right. Because I don’t think anybody was really feeling like they were in their prime this year. Isolation can mean escaping into your imagination in a way that’s kind of nice.

Swift: Get a hammer and a nail.

McCartney: “Maybe I can put that picture up.” It’s not rocket science. The period after the Beatles, when we went to live in Scotland on a really — talk about dumpy — little farm. I mean, I see pictures of it now and I’m not ashamed, but I’m almost ashamed. Because it’s like, “God, nobody’s cleaned up around here.”

But it was really a relief. Because when I was with the Beatles, we’d formed Apple Records, and if I wanted a Christmas tree, someone would just buy it. And I thought, after a while, “No, you know what? I really would like to go and buy our Christmas tree. Because that’s what everyone does.” So you go down — “I’ll have that one” — and you carried it back. I mean, it’s little, but it’s huge at the same time.

I needed a table in Scotland and I was looking through a catalog and I thought, “I could make one. I did woodwork in school, so I know what a dovetail joint is.” So I just figured it out. I’m just sitting in the kitchen, and I’m whittling away at this wood and I made this little joint. There was no nail technology — it was glue. And I was scared to put it together. I said, “It’s not going to fit,” but one day, I got my woodwork glue and thought, “There’s no going back.” But it turned out to be a real nice little table I was very proud of. It was that sense of achievement.

Swift: No, it’s cool!

McCartney: But it was a real sort of great thing for me to be able to do stuff for yourself. You were talking about sewing. I mean normally, in your position, you’ve got any amount of tailors.

Swift: Well, there’s been a bit of a baby boom recently; several of my friends have gotten pregnant.

McCartney: Oh, yeah, you’re at the age.

McCartney: What do you paint? Watercolors?

Swift: Acrylic or oil. Whenever I do watercolor, all I paint is flowers. When I have oil, I really like to do landscapes. I always kind of return to painting a lonely little cottage on a hill.

McCartney: She’s a fantasy character?

Swift: She’s a real person. Who lived in the house that I live in.

McCartney: She’s a real person? I listened to that and I thought, “Who is this?”

McCartney: Yeah, ’cause you were writing breakup songs like they were going out of style.

Swift: That’s amazing.

McCartney: It just felt good to me. I would sit and talk, and they’d have amazing stories. That’s what I liked. They would have stories from the wartime — because I was born actually in the war — and so these old ladies, they were participating in the war. This one lady I used to sort of just hang out with, she had a crystal radio that I found very magical. In the war, a lot of people made their own radios — you’d make them out of crystals [sings “The Twilight Zone” theme].

Swift: How did I not know this? That sounds like something I would have tried to learn about.

McCartney: It’s interesting, because there is a lot of parallels with the virus and lockdowns and wartime. It happened to everyone. Like, this isn’t HIV, or SARS, or Avian flu, which happened to others, generally. This has happened to everyone, all around the world. That’s the defining thing about this particular virus. And, you know, my parents … it happened to everyone in Britain, including the queen and Churchill. War happened. So they were all part of this thing, and they all had to figure out a way through it. So you figured out Folklore. I figured out McCartney III.

Swift: And a lot of people have been baking sourdough bread. Whatever gets you through!

McCartney: Some people used to make radios. And they’d take a crystal — we should look it up, but it actually is a crystal. I thought, “Oh, no, they just called it a crystal radio,” but it’s actually crystals like we know and love.

Swift: Wow.

McCartney: And somehow they get the radio waves — this crystal attracts them — they tune it in, and that’s how they used to get their news. Back to “Eleanor Rigby,” so I would think of her and think of what she’s doing and then just try to get lyrical, just try to bring poetry into it, words you love, just try to get images like “picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been,” and Father McKenzie “is darning his socks in the night.” You know, he’s a religious man, so I could’ve said, you know, “preparing his Bible,” which would have been more obvious. But “darning his socks” kind of says more about him. So you get into this lovely fantasy. And that’s the magic of songs, you know. It’s a black hole, and then you start doing this process, and then there’s this beautiful little flower that you’ve just made. So it is very like embroidery, making something.

Swift: Making a table.

McCartney: Making a table.

Swift: Wow, it would’ve been so fun to play Glastonbury for the 50th anniversary together.

McCartney: It would’ve been great, wouldn’t it? And I was going to be asking you to play with me.

Swift: Were you going to invite me? I was hoping that you would. I was going to ask you.

McCartney: I would’ve done “Shake It Off.”

Swift: Oh, my God, that would have been amazing.

McCartney: I know it, it’s in C!

McCartney: Well, we’re just so lucky, aren’t we?

Swift: We’re really lucky.

McCartney: I don’t know if it ever happens to you, but with me, it’s like, “Oh, my god, I’ve ended up as a musician.”

Swift: Yeah, I can’t believe it’s my job.

Swift: “Something will happen.”

Swift: That’s the best.

McCartney: It’s so stupid it’s brilliant. It’s great if you’re ever in that sort of panic attack: “Oh, my God,” or, “Ahhh, what am I going to do?”

Swift: “Something will happen.”

McCartney: All right then, thanks for doing this, and this was, you know, a lot of fun.

Swift: You’re the best. This was so awesome. Those were some quality stories!

#paul mccartney #old paul #taylor swift #*m #💖#grandpaul #silver stubble #(aahh king)#(I LOVE HIM SO MUCH F*CK OFF EVERYONE)#(the thumbs lads. its always about the thumbs)

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