#I say this as a south central baby. these are my boys and i’ll unite with them against outside clowns even while i beef wit em

[sharkcloset]

yesssss your post about dre being there. i’ve been trying to get caught up with everything that happened since i didn’t get to watch live and as i’m going through the tag i’ve seen a bunch of posts about it and like yeah who you associate with means something but also it would be wild if dre WASN’T there. kendrick had EVERYONE up there on that stage with him i don’t think it’s that deep ykwim. the whole fake activism thing is a strange accusation imo i think kendrick’s made it clear he’s a real one but people like to latch onto things yk

Yeah i mean i know this is the antiblack, never listened to hip hop a day in their life ass website but also??? Like at least use one brain cell to recognize it was a big holiday for Black Americans and it was a West Coast rap showcase with Compton + South Central + Inglewood artists both old and new being heavily featured (see: Black Hippy, Mustard, YG, Tyler, Ty, Dom, Steve Lacy, Roddy, Blxst, Hed, Boogie etc.) so it’s not at all surprising that Dre was asked to be there. He’s been in the game since ‘85 and the whole point Kendrick was making about Aubrey is that he ain’t got no roots like they do and he is a disrespectful ass culture vulture who has no regard for the artistry and history of hip hop.

Hella people have been talking about this — and not in this site — but also Dot??? wasn’t hosting a kangaroo court exclusively on Dre’s baggage???? It was a cultural concert with CRIPS and BLOODS (including mf HOOVERS which iydk HUGE) on stage who haven’t come together like that in years. They were making peace in the name of defending our history from bitchass people like those not from the hood (AUBREY) or educated in the history of hip hop outside of romanticizing it and clout chasing (AUBREY). It was a reminder to not fuck with our city bc at the end of the day we got each other’s backs. LA showed up for itself bc too many people have been speaking like they know us, disrespecting the history we got, and it’s very clear they don’t know shit. Those people can take their pearl clutching elsewhere bc Dre wasn’t the point of the night it was to unite the city and West Coast rappers against the kind of people like Aubrey and those who gargle his balls.

[scottymcgeesterwrites]

Ambiguous

There has been something I need to write about and shout into the void. It has been tearing me apart, and I don’t know how people will react elsewhere, so I figured this was the safest place. This will be the soft reveal before even speaking about it to my friends. Or maybe I will never speak about it ever again. Maybe I will feel fine after writing it this way.  For my entire life, people have mistaken me for being Indian, to the point where actual Indians walk up to me and start speaking in their dialect. My mile-long blank stare makes them realize that I am not Indian, and one of two things happen - they either apologize and explain they mistook me for Indian, or they exclaim, “You’re NOT Indian?”

I’m Cuban and Colombian. I grew up in New Jersey. I am an American citizen but it gets confusing when you take into account that my mother flew to Santiago, Chile to have me there because of a clinic that specialized in geriatric pregnancy at the time, so my “birthplace” reads Chile on my passport. That’s always a mouthful to have to explain and it further confuses people, so I end up saying, “I was born in New Jersey”.  My skin tone is best described as ambiguous. I could be many things. I’ve gotten Middle Eastern, Indian, and specifically “Egyptian”. I have no idea why “Egyptian” but. Whatever.  I have always lived in some liminal space where people ask the dreaded question, “What are you?” Now here’s the most frustrating thing of all - not everyone who has asked me that was white. Growing up, I thought that I could relate to someone who wasn’t white to understand how I feel. Black people have asked me that. Indian people have asked me that. Middle Eastern people have asked me that. Cubans and Colombians have asked me that.  Throughout my youth, I was paranoid that maybe I was adopted or something, given how people didn’t seem to connect me with my parents. I was told that my Cuban side hails from Spain, but my Colombian side is shrouded in mystery. My dad never liked to talk about my family. I never knew anyone past my grandparents. Well, I did meet my great-grandmother once when I was seven, but she had practically turned back into a baby at that point, banging on the table demanding food and needing to be spoon-fed. My own people don’t recognize me, and they often say things like, “You don’t LOOK Latino!” or “What? You’re LATINO?” and the best one yet “You don’t SOUND Spanish!” The worst offenders, however, would laugh and say, “¡Pareces Hindu!” which means “You look Hindu!” Hindu is the religion, dumbass. Anyone, and I mean anyone, can be racist and slip some “micro-aggression”. I am not fluent in Spanish, but I can write and understand every word in Spanish. I often inadvertently offend Spanish-speaking people when I reply to them in English when they thought they were being sneaky by talking in Spanish around me.  The reason I don’t speak Spanish as fast as my peers is because of two reasons:  1. My parents at the time when I grew up believed in the misconception and pseudoscientific belief that children will be “confused” if two or more languages are spoken in the house.  2. Central New Jersey, where I grew up, hadn’t yet seen many Hispanic people, so locals at the time often leered at people who spoke Spanish in public.  When my mother took me to our local Gymboree, I spotted a butterfly and shouted in Spanish, “¡Mariposa! ¡Mariposa!”. The other mothers kept staring at me, and then distanced themselves from us.  The weirdest thing ever was experiencing white people who studied the Spanish language better than me and making fun of me for actually being Spanish but being unable to speak it fluently. I had a crush on this girl whom I’ll call “Anjy” in freshman year of college. It took me until now to realize that I think she had a Latino fetish. Anjy only exclusively went out with Latino men, but never seemed to openly admit it. The only thing she did admit was that, “I can only be with a man who speaks Spanish. It’s so important to me.” So obviously I wasn’t a contender, despite being Latino. Anjy doesn’t have an ounce of Spanish in her. None. But she studied it since high school and fell in love with it and became Spanish’s #1 fan. I was so jealous of how fluent she was. She could roll her r’s and speak it beautifully. Since we became friends, I said to her, “Oh, I can finally practice my Spanish with someone!” We tried, but she laughed at me and said, “I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. You sound like a gringo.” It’s a very topsy-turvy world where some white girl uses a derogatory term on me, a derogatory term from my culture that describes an outsider, used to describe me. She went to Costa Rica after we graduated, lived there for a few years, and came back home with a husband.  (That’s when I fully realized just how much she fetishized us.) A few years ago, my now-fiancée gifted me a DNA test for my birthday. That came out of left field for me, and opened up a range of emotions that I wasn’t ready for. She said she remembered how I wondered aloud why I looked the way I looked and about my ancestry.  I sat on the DNA test for a while. 

I stared at it. 

I held the kit in my hands. 

I opened it and closed it.  What if I really was Indian? What if I found out something that made me feel so much worse? But how bad could it be? I was also wary about the company keeping my DNA for nefarious reasons. However, luckily enough, my fiancée had bought the kit from AncestryDNA - the one DNA company that has responded to people saying they would delete their DNA at their request. I bit the bullet and sent my sample.  When the test came back, I opened it up and everything made sense. It made so much sense that I laughed out loud. It’s so funny how nobody has guessed the only other possibility for my skin tone that is what I actually am.  I am pretty much half native to the Americas.  I’m not sure what that’s called. Native American seems to be associated exclusively to North America. So Native South American? Native to the Americas? Native American (et al)? The Colombian side can be traced through turmoil in South America, up through Mesoamerica, and into North America. So many spots lit up all over the Americas. And like the Cuban side said, I was indeed from Spain as well.  I was split right down the middle. 50/50. The native side and the European side were practically screaming at each other in my genes. I felt as though a great weight had been lifted from me that I didn’t even know was there. I knew for a fact that I was my parents’ son. I had an explanation for why I look the way I look, and it made sense and it was obvious. It didn’t end there though.  I didn’t feel Native American. I had no cultural connection to anything “native”. I tried thinking in terms of my personality though. I always had a strong belief in saving the land and respecting the dead. I did vandalize a construction site back in my high school days to preserve farmland. My family did like to decorate the house with Aztec and Mayan statues. Aside from that though, I had about as much personal connection to native culture as Olive Garden does to Italy. The thing about my parents being from Cuba and Colombia is that those were two very violent and turbulent places in the past century. After I tell people where my families hail from, they always asked me with wide-eyes, “Oh have you been there???” Well, I dunno man. If you have any inkling of what’s going on the world you would know the awkward relationship that the United States has had with Cuba, and what it means to be a fucking exile. And the fact that Colombia has seen gang wars for the entirety of my life. So no. I haven’t. When I was a little boy I asked my parents if we would ever visit Colombia or Cuba, but they told me we shouldn’t go back. Colombia was violent, and Cuba’s government watched everyone. My mother was afraid of what would happen if she tried going back. Maybe they wouldn’t let her, or us. Maybe they’d let us through but I wouldn’t even be allowed to return if they knew I was the son of an exile. Worse yet, they might detain my mother. You never know when your family had beef with the government and was told to leave.  And what really drives a knife in my heart is hearing people ask that really annoying question. “Have you visited???” As if they were hot and exotic touristy locales. No. Because my parents were forced to flee, because they needed a better life.  “Wouldn’t your mom love it if you got married in Cuba? She would get to visit her home!”  You don’t get the trauma she has. You don’t understand how much of a toll it would take on her to return home and see all the things she once knew and love gone or tarnished. She received word recently that the farmhouse she grew up in now became a restaurant. The house that my grandfather built by hand. Strangers now sit and eat there. Maybe tourists. The hotel that my great-grandfather used to own now doesn’t belong to us anymore - the government said it was theirs. There is nothing for her to go back to but loss.  I felt distraught when I saw a former college classmate who has become an Instagram influencer immediately visit Cuba once travel restrictions were eased. She posted all about it and acted as if she were an expert about it. She used to be a lawyer in Washington D.C. until she decided to “take hold of her life” and “follow her dream” and go to Bali and now lives everyday in tropical paradise. It seemed like some people were pointing out the hypocrisy in her posts about life given the lifestyle she leads, since she felt the need to say something about it. She made a video where she tried to relate to her followers. She said how “it’s still hard” for her, that she “has to work every day”, and meanwhile literally the next fucking day she posts a picture of her having lunch by a waterfall, or napping in her hammock by the beach. But when she visited Cuba, and took pictures and wrote a long post about the country, I just lost it. She met up with some other white Instagram influencer friend, and they took selfies at a café and lectured about the region and--- That’s supposed to be my country, my culture. I’m supposed to feel that way about my people, not you. I went to a wedding recently in July. This black man slapped me on the back after I cracked a joke and said, “Hey, where you from?”

“New Jersey.” He laughed. “No, but really though. Where are you from?” “New Jersey.” “I mean originally. Your background. What are you?” It was the first time I had been asked that question since I got back my DNA test results, and for some reason it hit me so much differently.

I really wanted to say, “I don’t know.” It’s ironic how knowing what I am made me feel more confused, more alone and more isolated than ever before. I am bad at speaking Spanish, and when I try to practice with other Spanish-speaking people they laugh at me and say, “You sound like a gringo” and say they can’t bear to practice with me. I don’t look Latino. I might look Indian or I might look Middle Eastern. With me, everyone assumes things about me, no matter what they are. Some people have the luxury of automatic and unspoken assumptions about their background. Then there’s me. Not quite tan, not quite white. I don’t raise enough suspicion at the airport to warrant a search but at the same time I have to jump over one extra hurdle when they ask me one extra question: “Where are you from?” or “How long are you staying here?” or “What are you here for?” It’s very subtle and deceptively innocent. Nobody else who is pasty white gets asked any questions. They just stamp their passport and wave them away. I’m just ambiguous enough to warrant that extra step - just in case, you know? I envy people so much who can have a clear culture and place to point and say, “I’ve been there. I’ve been where I come from.” I envy people who can recognize all the idiosyncrasies of their family’s region. I don’t belong to any country or culture or identity. There are only a few scant pieces of culture that my parents passed on to me. “Oh, on Christmas we do this” or “We say this once and a while. That was a common expression there.” I envy people with huge families who have not been estranged by government and bloodshed or lost to time. I envy people who can trace their families back to their grandfathers and great-grandfathers and great-great-grandmothers. As a kid I wish I was able to say something like, “My great-granddaddy fought Nazis in the war!” I will never know anyone beyond that one old great-grandmother who no longer recognized anyone’s face. Everyone else is a name on a tombstone, or a whisper in vague oral history. I envy people who can firmly say, “I am *insert nationality here*” Because I always mumble at that phrase.  I am. . .a. . . I am from. . . . uh I am. . .  I am. 

[tims-tams]

It’s been so long since I’ve written but Hyunji made me do it again ugh.

There’s no title yet and this isn’t technically a fic 😂 but let’s see where it’ll go!

The stories are set about four years from now and are entirely fictional. Unfortunately, I’m not a fortunate teller.

I would love prompts from you guys on what you want to see “reported”!

Enjoy!

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Shidae Ilbo

28.02.2024

[BREAKING]

Top star Kim Soohyun issued via his agency this morning an official announcement about his upcoming nuptials with fellow labelmate, actress Seo Yeaji.

Shortly after the statement was made, both Kim Soohyun and Seo Yeaji shared heartfelt handwritten letters through social media to seek understanding and thank fans for the love they have received all these years.

Gold Medalist, their agency also released a statement that confirmed the wedding and asked for the public’s continuous warm support towards the artistes.

The wedding will take place on 5th of May.

————————————————

216HJ406: Oh my god, all these years of waiting!! They are real!!

Opparrrrislove: Wow I thought it was just shipper fans overthinking

Letsgetthis: Their kids would have daebak visuals

JangDongYoon4LYFE: Can Jang Dong-Yoon be their flower boy? ^^

Anon: My husband’s friend’s brother’s sister in law works in the bridal boutique they did their fitting at. She said they were both so gorgeous she thought they were born with lighting effects on them.

Myohmy: “... and will be marrying the woman who completed me.” “... at my lowest and brightest I was thankful that he was there with me all the time.” Both of them wrote such heartwarming letters, even as a non-fan I feel so touched T_T

Kpop444: I heard the wedding will take place in Phuket

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

User: yeon0506

14.03.2024 02:38

I was visiting my aunt who lived in XXX and when I was heading out of the apartment complex I swear I saw them!! It was close to 10pm and the weather was still chilly but I’m sure it’s them!!

They were both wearing black hoodies and holding hands!! Strolling around the garden facilities. I even heard SYJ laugh!! It was so distinct!!!!

————————————————

9tailfox: No picture no talk

Camefromthestars: zzz stop making up stories

HYUNJIgogo: OP I BELIEVE YOU

Hyehye23: omg my friend who lives there say they always take night walks, even before their wedding news got out. They’re always so low profile and discreet too.

Bbnbpppp: I would pay to be the security of that apartment complex :(

GTMYgood: @Hyehye23 can you share the address ^^

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

User: housepro

01.04.2024 00:49

KSH bought a new unit at Nine One Hannam.

————————————————

Mymemine: proof?

Straw_berrymilk: wow, isn’t that place super expensive and exclusive??

Samgyupgod: Ooooh new marital home?

Cccyoon: my god, she’s just leeching everything off him huh? Bet she didn’t even pay a single cent

Maimeeka: Guys report that comment!!

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Saiko Shinmun

03.04.2024

It was recently reported that Kim Soohyun and Seo Yeaji bought a 4-bedroom unit at the exclusive Nine One Hannam.

A realty agency that was involved in the transaction commented that Nine One Hannam’s surroundings were the main draw for this couple.

“[Nine One Hannam] is not only close to the Han River, but it is located in a central area between Gangnam and Gangbuk [South and North of the Han River] and surrounded by an exquisite environment, including the Yongsan Park and Namsan mountain.”

Nine One Hannam is a high-grade apartment complex consisting of 9 buildings and 335 houses ranging from 249 to 334 square meters. Each house will be equipped with its own private elevator and yard.

Other celebs residents in this top end estate include G-Dragon and Bae Yong Joon.

————————————————————

Kpopcorn: Haha KSH is going to be neighbours with GD again after Galleria Foret

Hyunjibaby: I want to be a fly in that house

216x406: Omg I just love all these hyunji news we’re getting now, we no longer need to survive on crumbs!!

HyunjiisENDGAME: ***k yeah! This is the kind of news I want. Hyunji please fill up your new home with babies ASAP.

Benznoop: If anyone ever doubted KSH as the highest paid actor in this country lol

Rightnleft: ahhh another property that I’ll never be able to afford

Mangtaeismangtae: I did some research and omg the floor plan is so luxurious

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

[four-loose-screws]

FE4 Suzuki Novelization Translation - Chapter 8 Part 2

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations - Ko-fi

———————————

Chapter 8 - The Birth of the Second Generation

Part 2

With the welcoming of spring came signs of unrest from Lewyn’s uncles.

When Lewyn left Silesse, it had immediately brought the confrontation between Dakkar and Maios over the crown to a stalemate. Now, Lewyn’s return caused them to become enemies again just as quickly.

Crusader Ced’s Holy Mark had already appeared on Lewyn, so they no longer had good reason to argue against his ascension to the throne. However, both Dakkar and Maios had long since convinced themselves that the crown was theirs, and wanted it as if it was a treat dangling before their eyes.

Silesse’s landscape was divided in two sections, the north and the south, by a rugged central mountain range. Maios had already claimed the north, and Dakkar the south, and agreed that they were each the king of their respective region. Their plan was to have Maios take control of Lewyn’s Sailane Castle, and Dakkar take control of Queen Rahna’s Silesse Castle, though both of them were truly plotting to take out the survivor, and conquer all of Silesse.

Queen Rahna wrote a letter to the King of Grannvale expressing her wish to see Sigurd’s honor restored, attached a letter from Claud to it, and sent it to Balhalla.

However, the return letter demanded that she hand over the traitors immediately.

Queen Rahna and Claud’s letters had clearly been intercepted by Reptor.

Not only that, but Reptor had a secret agreement with Dakkar to send reinforcements to aid in the attack on Silesse. He also secretly sent a messenger to Maios, offering ten thousand gold coins for Sigurd’s head.

But while all of these events were happening in the background, there was still time before the conflict would take form.

-

Peace continued in Silesse through to the end of its short summer.

During that time, Sailane Castle experienced a baby boom.

First, Ayra gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl. The elder twin, the boy, was named Ulster, after a hero of Dozel; and the girl was named Larcei, after the lover of a hero from an Isaachian folk tale.

Next, Aideen had a boy. He was named Lester, after the founding king of Verdane.

Lachesis also gave birth to a boy. He was the spitting image of his mother, and was named Diarmuid, after her grandfather.

Brigid also gave birth to a boy that looked just like her. Aideen was the one to suggest his name, Faval, after one of the past successors to Yewfelle.

Tailtiu was the last to give birth, and the child was yet another boy. He had the same silver-blond hair as his mother, but otherwise looked just like his father. He was named Arthur, after a king from a Grannvalian folk tale.

The summer winds from the southwest died down, and on the day that the cold winds from the northwest began to blow, Queen Rahna rode with Mahnya as her guard to Sailane Castle.

It had become normal for her to visit at least once a month, and talk to Sigurd.

They conversed freely about whatever came to mind, from negotiations with Grannvale, to news from all across Jugdral, to life at Sailene.

While there were times where they only talked about current events, Sigurd came to look forward to her visits. He’d lost his mother when he was a child, and Rahna’s kindness and warmth reminded him of her.

But on that day, after explaining that negotiations with Grannvale had still not progressed, Rahna warned Sigurd to be wary of Duke Maios’ movements at Torve Castle.

“Maios has always wanted this castle. According to the information I just received, he’s already well prepared for battle. He may attack at any time, so please be careful. If you do end up fighting, I am supposed to deploy reinforcements, but… Duke Dakkar of Zaxon is targeting Silesse, so I must bolster my own defenses.”

“Please do not worry, Queen Rahna. I will defeat the Torvian Army with my own forces.”

“You’re right. You are already a hero who will go down in history, after all. Oh, and by the way, some good news has come out of Grannvale.”

“Really? There’s some good news?”

“Yes. Prince Kurt actually had a daughter. She’s been found, and all the country is overjoyed about it.”

“What? ...Is that true?”

“When she was brought before King Azmur, he knew she was his granddaughter the moment he laid eyes on her. And when she revealed that she had Naga’s mark, there was no disputing that she is a direct descendant of the Balhallian royal family.”

“Wow… That is good news. It means that the royal bloodline continues on after all!”

“And she’s in love with Duke Arvis! The people are saying that he will become the king, and there will be a huge wedding for them soon!”

“She’s marrying Duke Arvis?”

“Those who have met her say she’s a very beautiful princess, and a perfect match for him. ...They must be so happy.”

Her final words made Sigurd wince.

“Oh, I apologize, Sigurd. ...I made you remember your wife, didn’t I?”

“You don’t have to be sorry. ...It’s already been over a year since my wife… Deirdre… disappeared. I have no idea where she is, but we love each other with all our hearts. Wherever she is, that is the one thing I know hasn’t changed.”

“You will find, her Prince Sigurd. I’m sure of it…”

“Yes, I believe so too. I will reunite with her. I know it.”

Just then, Lewyn poked his head into the room. Sigurd took the hint, said he had cleaning duty soon, then left the room.

“Then I should start heading home. It’s already pretty late.”

“You can’t go just yet, Mother! You spent hours talking to Prince Sigurd, so you can’t ignore your real son!”

“My son abandoned me and went far away three years ago. I don’t know who you are.”

“Ha ha ha, I deserve that. Are you still mad, Mother? I’ve already apologized many times…”

“Of course I am! You have no idea how much I worried about you! No son of mine would ever be that thoughtless!”

“If you are still angry, then I will apologize again. But I’ve come home for good, so please forgive me. I’ll fulfill all my duties to you as your son. I’ll get married and give you grandchildren. I’ll even massage your shoulders right now!”

“Don’t treat me like an old lady! I have a lot to discuss with you. Come to Silesse some time soon. And don’t forget!”

“So you’re going to take me away from my castle again? Oh well…”

“Only if you’re willing to listen to me.” Rahna said, then stood up and left.

When Lewyn tried to see her off, Mahnya came up to him, and whispered, “Prince Lewyn, Queen Rahna may speak like that to you, but she’s actually very happy. She has so much more energy now that she knows you’re safe.”

“I know. It runs in the family. None of us will show how happy we are if it means giving in to someone. ...Anyway, Mahnya, I want to thank you. Please continue to take care of her. Or at the very least, make fools out of these uncles of mine.”

“Yes. As the leader of her pegasus knights, I will guard her with my life. Please stay safe, Prince Lewyn.”

“I will. Oh, but I want Erinys stay here, if that’s okay with you.”

“My sister…? If that is what you’d like, then please be sure to keep her by your side. She…”

“You don’t have to say it. I understand.”

Mahnya stared at Lewyn in shock.

When she saw the look in his eyes, she felt both reassured and lonely at the same time. “Prince Lewyn… Please take care of her.” Mahnya said, then jogged to catch up with Rahna.

‘Whoops, I finally crossed that bridge.’ Lewyn thought. ‘I didn’t mean to say something like that to Mahnya. But I do have a tendency to just blurt things out…’

He climbed atop the castle wall, and watched the two women fly back towards Silesse.

Once they were no more than specks in the sky, he noticed Erinys flying back in from the south, having just finished her reconnaissance duty.

‘She works every day, from morning until night…’ He thought, and suddenly felt his heart well up with love for her. ‘When she comes home, I’ll confess to her. Her sister already knows everything, so I have no reason to keep holding things off any more.’

But now, he had to figure out just what to say.

‘“Marry me” is too plain. “I want you” sounds like something Sigurd would say, and “Let’s be together” sounds too vague. “I can’t live without you” is a bard cliché.  “Rule Silesse with me” is way too grandiose. ...Simple really is best, isn’t it? But which is better? “Marry me?” or “Let’s get married?”’

Erinys landed her pegasus next to him.

He smiled slightly and started to walk over towards her.

She dismounted her pegasus and blurted, “Prince Lewyn, we’re in trouble!”

“What’s wrong?!”

“The Torvian Army’s wind mage unit is moving towards the border!”

“Then I’ll alert Sigurd straight away.”

“Understood!” She rushed towards the stairs.

“I love you, Erinys.” He whispered, but she was already too far away to hear him.

[larrymullenband-blog]

U2 in Toronto 06/23/17

aka Elena finally tells you how the concert went!!

You're not surprised, but it was mind-blowing. Transcendent. All that regular U2 stuff. VERY LONG REPORT BELOW.

(All pics by me or my brother. Used with permission. For reference he has the lesser phone camera but I think he did pretty damn well with it considering!)

SO. WHERE TO BEGIN.

The GA line started at four freakin’ thirty, two days before the concert. Thankfully my ticket squad were all down to check in that evening. I was number 87 (like 1987, heyooooo). Our line leaders gave us the option of checking in either the next morning or evening, which was a godsend. We showed up bright and early the day of and got wristbands, then I met Kelseigh @adirondykes which was #blessed. Came back for two, got let in to the stadium for three, sat in a dark rampway til just after four thirty, and then the run of my life. 

Months ago my friend and I had chosen our dream spot - between Larry’s “branch” of the Tree Stage and the main, shall we say, frontal lobe of it, where Bono, Edge and Adam are most of the time during the first set. I had been anxious (as I’m sure some of you saw in my posts) for months leading up to the day of about not getting a good spot, and I had tried to lower my hopes. But as luck would have it, our charge led us right into the corner between Tree Stage Laurence and Tree Stage Central. The dream spot. I owe it to my friend who led the charge, bless him. It was super duper unreal. Forever grateful. 

The Lumineers were actually awesome. Best opening act for U2 I’ve seen. I had wanted to see OneRepublic or Mumford and Sons instead, both of whom I love, but these guys won me over. They came on to The Chain by Fleetwood Mac (Kelseigh and I went hard) and then played a very strong set. They even froze into tableau in one song which was...really weird? But cool. The whole time I remember thinking “If I’m so moved by this...how goddamn moved am I going to be with my favourite band right in front of my face?!” 

There were some very annoying veteran fans behind us who kept talking about how they dislike when U2 play the hits because they’ve seen so many U2 shows (the king of first world problems), and about how the band is winding down. They trashed the shit out of The Lumineers during their set...and also made some muffled comments about how they deserved my friends and I’s spots. Which...no?? I’m sorry people, but having “done your waiting” by being older than my friends and I doesn’t make you entitled to anything. We genuinely love the band. We did our lining up early, and you did not. Suck my diiiiiiiiiiiiiick...

A note on Toronto’s venue: The Skydome (now called the Rogers Centre, but I resist) has a retractable roof. Other artists who play there always have the dome closed, and the dome is usually closed on rainy days, as concert day had been. But every time I’ve seen U2 there the roof has been open, rumoured to be by the band’s special request. The dome was closed when we got in but miraculously, after The Lumineers’ set, it opened to reveal the sunset. Everyone around me had a good cheer and laugh - Bono gets what he wants, dammit! As we watched the GA floor and Red Zone toss a beach ball around, and Dallas, Stuart and Sam get our boys’ instruments ready, my friend smiled and said that every detail of the night so far was perfect.  

AND THEN LARRY CAME ON AND HE WAS RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME AND EVEN MORE BEAUTIFUL IN PERSON!!

He smiled when he came out onto Tree Stage, and waved to someone. Larry? Visibly happy? Wow! That really set the tone for the night. Happy U2 were very happy. It was infectious.

Sidenote, I loved seeing Larry take a lil moment before starting. Holding his sticks in his lap, taking a breath. About to set off a rocket of a show, to send an entire stadium into hysterics, but giving himself this one second to prepare, just for himself. 

Back on the topic of Happy U2 Were Very Happy: there was a small mess up in Sunday Bloody Sunday that B+E remedied with a smile and a retry. Seeing such prolific pros mess up a bit and have a laugh about it meant the world to me. Their band dynamic is the strongest and most beautiful thing. 

Adam is the cutest and was so damn happy to come over to our side and hear all of us scream for him. He did so very early on in SBS. His smile is the brightest and I love him.

During Bad Bono talked about our lost countryman Leonard Cohen and sang a long, beautiful snippet of one of his songs. Immediately the stadium went up in lights and Bono said “Oh that’s beautiful, thank you.” Pretty sure I saw Edge give Bono a smile and thumbs up for his snippet once the song ended. 

Also fun fact: Larry and his drum tech have a secret mic channel through which they talk to each other! Sam stands by the side of the stage and speaks to Lurr into a mic as he drums. And the king of drooms speaks back! T’was cool to watch. 

Edge did the solo to Pride right in front of my brother. Pride is my brother’s favourite U2 song and I was so freakin’ happy. When we launched into the ��oh oh oh oh” singalong, Edge saw me pumping my fist like hell and gave me a smile. I thought this was a hallucination or something because MY FAVE NOTICED ME but Kelseigh confirms this and I cry. My existence has been validated. This also happened in 2011 so Edge and I have a special connection apparently and I LOVE HIM SO MUCH GAAAAAAAAAH. His smile is the best. I will never be over it.

Their squad poses at the beginning of Streets were the death of me. Seeing them present a proudly united front, I’m just...THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH OKAY!!!!!!!! aaaaaaaaahhhhh

Side 1 of Joshua Tree was a blur. A beautiful blur, and hard to process. Streets was epic, went by like a flash of lightning. Our massive Still Haven’t Found crowd singalong seemed to make happy Bono even happier. I rocked out so hard to Bullet. Bono did them moves on the mic stand and I lost it. The woman on my right and I started singing lyrics to each other, smiling big and getting really into it. We hadn’t talked at all before the show and I only found out her name after! A wonderful unspoken camaraderie. I adored the new version of Red Hill Mining Town. With all of them together in one corner of the stage, Edge and Adam sitting down, it felt very cute and intimate while the song was strong and sweeping. I think it was after that song that Bono turned to Adam and raved, “Great bass! Very lyrical. It takes a real man to be that feminine.” #U2LoveEachOtherSoMuchTour 

Before In God’s Country, Bono talked about only getting to know this album now - how friends, countries, and songs can all surprise you even after knowing them for so long. That struck a chord with me somehow, I don’t know quite why. Bono’s anecdotes, even when they’re not the freshest or most poetic, are powerful. He’s such a compelling storyteller by nature, and he just makes you want to listen to him forever. Basically someone you would invite over to read you the phone book. 

Bono, as usual at Toronto concerts, kept mentioning how much he loves Canada. He thanked us for taking in the Irish after the potato famine (which was before all of us were born I think, but hey, it’s the thought that counts!). He referenced Canada’s cultural mosaic, which sets us apart from countries with melting pot models of integrating newcomers. As we’re turning 150 in a week (damn) he announced something I’d heard rumoured that day - that he and Edge are going to Ottawa to be part of the celebrations! WOOOOO! He called our country a baby, but an old soul compared to our “adolescent” neighbour to the south. He praised our leaders’ approach to AIDS fighting among other things. The Ultraviolet tribute featured our new foreign minister. 

Trip Through Your Wires was so fun live and is now a Gay™ song and no one can tell me otherwise. When Edge went into the solo, dramatically crouched and feeling the music, Bono walked right over into his personal bubble and just stared down at him. Awed. Studying. (...same, man. Same.) Reminded me of that quote about their first practice that I saw on here recently, in which Bono saw Edge magicking the melodies out of his head and basically knew that Edge was his destiny. Of course when Bono turned back to the crowd he gave us the usual “Isn’t this a sexy man?” and everyone went NUTS (yay). And then “Is that the kind of sexy man you want blowing out your birthday candles?” (I swear I heard the slightest pause on “blowing”...but maybe that’s just my dirty mind). 

Also. Edge’s voice. It was on point as ever. So. Pretty. FUCK.

One Tree Hill was the first song to bring me to tears. The “stars fall from the sky” line, plus Bono’s opening banter about losing good people arbitrarily and unjustly...the music sounded beautiful, like every album track did, but there was something more to the song that kept me ugly-sobbing. 

Bono stole the show with Exit. Seeing him in character for the first time live was so cool. I really envy everyone who was around for Zoo TV. Cause DAMN. Eve comes by it honestly, this man is an actor. I almost didn’t laugh at him repeatedly shoving a camera into his crotch cause it nearly looked more poignant than funny! He paused at the top of the tree stage, bit his thumb and ran a hand through his hair...wow. The bravado, irony and elegance all rolled into one...

(And then he slowly took his coat off and Kelseigh yelled “Take it off! Says the lesbian” and I lost it) 

Omaima’s film for Miss Sarajevo/Syria was the second teary moment for me. That shot of her standing, closed eyed and introspective, in the midst of chaos and fear and disorder...some ladies close to me passed me down a tissue and I had that feeling of fan camaraderie once again. I love how U2 choses to speak about things so outright and so beautifully that other artists avoid speaking about. Although I’ll be honest - no idea where to go from here. Issues like these are so massive and it’s hard to know how to start being part of the solution when they’re so complex. 

Beautiful Day had me once again jumping so hard I kept banging my elbow on the rail and it hurts to this day. The song soared. The morphing U2 faces on screen were fun to watch and I’m always down for reminders that Edge is an alien being anyway. My only beef was that some of the messages B sent at the end of the song (”When people define their own identity/when women unite and rewrite history as herstory, that’s a beautiful day,”) though I agree with them all, were a little tired. He is so eloquent that it kinda irks me to see him say very simple things about equality and justice that sound rather generic.

Elevation and Vertigo completely kicked my ass. I was still barely recovered from jumping to SBS, Pride, and Streets, but these ones set the whole place on fire. My friend commented later that these were the songs that made him a U2 fan and that he was so glad to have heard them. These are definitely songs that I tend to think would be favoured by us younger fans, and I feared that some curmudgeons who were there mostly for JT would begrudge us our fun, but no one could resist. Yelling “Unos, dos, tres, catorce!” with a whole stadium in the middle of a jumping floor was the best feeling. There was some wonderful power couple Bedgeness at the top of the catwalk during the bridge. And Bono came over to my brother’s rail to tug away his vest and show us the Jesus around his neck and we all swooned. (Also I’m a total sucker for the It’s Only Rock n’ Roll snippet, sue me!)

One sounded perfect. That woman next to me and I emphatically sang “Here us coming, Lord!” together. A true pair of fangirls. It made perfect emotional sense to me as a show closer, and I started to come to terms with my boys leaving us. But Bono had been whispering to Adam and Edge earlier. I had figured that that had been what had spurred the slight rearrangement of the setlist, but as it turned out, Bono grinned big at the end of One and promised us “One more!” We were ECSTATIC. Dallas gave Edge the Gibson Explorer and we launched into I Will Follow, Bono once more hanging off of his mic stand like a lil monkey. We all had more jumping left in us after all! Not as much bouncy Edge as I would have liked, but other than that it was a fantastic end. The band were still completely glowing, seeming to be having as great a time as they had been at the beginning. Not to mention the Bedge cuddle at the end!!! (In this video - in which you can also hear me yelling from like thirty spots away! What a dork.)  

Sometime around the last two songs was when something really cool happened. My friend nudged me and called out that my younger brother had received Larry’s setlist!! I freaked out, and told my brother to thank the stagehand who had given it to him. Some fans behind us told us that said stagehand was in fact AJ Rankin, Bono’s cousin!! I was completely stunned and my friends laughed very hard at my The Scream-esque reaction. This was my brother’s second U2 concert compared to my fourth, and I had been so excited to bring him back into the world of U2 concerts after having shared our first one together. Not only that, but he had been feeling low self-confident and kinda sad only hours before, and not only did he adore the concert, but he got his own special keepsake. What a total blessing. 

So essentially, that was the highlight of my year. Nothing can top that. Super sad that it’s over but so incredibly grateful for it. As usual after U2 shows, I’m feeling kind of in limbo right now. How can I live normally after that?! What do I do with myself without the night of my life to look forward to? How do I keep the memories alive? Still looking for the answers, but I feel a renewed commitment to life now, which is weird but welcome. I want to do things that would make my boys happy. Getting to share in their happiness was the best feeling I’ve had in a very long time. 

Big shoutout to @adirondykes and her friend for meeting me and sharing this experience with me and generally being awesome; to all of the friends I met in GA, from the girl with the same shirt as me to the biggest Larry fan of them all to my wonderful singalong partner; and to you Tumble people! To @u2canhappentoanyone and @bonos-grindcore-sideproject for the GA advice and to @dismantlinganatomicbomb and @secret-blog-of-secrets for your lovely comments on my posts the day of, and everyone else on here for making me so happy to be in love this band every day. Big hugs to all of you, and long live the greatest band in the world. 

(also if you’re reading this congrats for reading an entire book lol you’re great)

[gopunksphilly-blog]

Bitchin' Camaro!!!

Now, City Gardens is a place unto itself.  It’s the equivalent of a cement warehouse dropped in the heart of Calhoun Street, Trenton, New Jersey.  The name, City Gardens, has to be a play on words because there wasn’t a tree, shrub or flower within an effing’ block of this tomb.  

If Calhoun Street was ever a pleasant place to live or work, it would have only been depicted that way in old photographs but as of right now, it’s very endemic of what’s going on in every city along the Northeast corridor of the United States. Thanks to the horrendous policies of Reagan and his ilk, all of the good manufacturing jobs were either moving to the cheap wage South, or even further down the map into Mexico and the rest of Central America.  All that was left behind was horrendous poverty, horrific crime, a drug epidemic second to none, and burnt out shells where factories or homes once proudly stood.

           Enter City Gardens into this uncontrolled chaos. Roosterheads in the projects and the ghetto; it sounds fucking insane, but it’s a perfect fit.  The punk movement gained traction during the end of Carter’s Presidency and has exploded during our current President’s, jingoistic, “everything is ok white suburbia, America; just avert your eyes from the cities burning down around you,” run in office.  By enlarge, the punks I know despise Reagan and his ilk, and the punk movement has given clubs like City Gardens a great place for us to catch some great acts, have some fun, but also vent out some frustration about the bullshit we see going on around America.  As far as we’re concerned, the Anti-War hippies were now the Wall Street pariahs they’d said to never trust when they were young.  Fucking sellouts…

           The inside of the Gardens was not anymore pleasing than its exterior.  The walls are painted black, half of them were tagged with graffiti, and you’d rather drain your kidneys behind the place than actually do it in their bathrooms. In other words, it was an awesome place to be.  

           It’s also the best place to stage dive, in my opinion. The stage seems like it is ten feet above the floor, so you can really hurl yourself into the crowd.  Randy Now, the club’s promoter, is always on the PA yelling “NO STAGE DIVING!!” The last time Black Flag was here, he got pretty pissed at me and Otto for launching ourselves right past Henry Rollins. I have been tame about going into orbit from the stage since then, out of respect for Randy.  He is a pretty cool guy, but Motorhead is coming tonight, so sorry Randy, but I’m taking the stage tonight, running past Lemmy while going airborne, happily landing in City Gardens mosh pit.  You can pitch me out of the club for a week, but I AM doing this. Sometimes, as Gem says, you just have to be golden and glorious.

           Avoiding the city’s rush hour traffic is great, booking right down 4th Street, parking directly behind Gem’s SS.  It’s a gloomy morning, but a ray of sunshine is waiting for me on the stoop and she looks gorgeous for tonight’s’ event, wearing black leggings so tight, they look painted on, combat boots with bandanna’s tied around both of them; one orange, the other black, a Motorhead t-shirt, with a long sleeved purple tee underneath.  The ‘No Future’ leather is on the steps next to her and a Newp is rapidly procured from its pocket.

           The hair is similar to the way she wore it on Monday at the hockey game, but a temporary dye makes it jet black with orange streaks through it.  She’s wearing black lip gloss, making her look vampiress sexy.  “Hello, Punk Queen of the Damned.  Girl, you just look good enough to eat.”  She lets her warm breath tickle my neck while purring in my ears.

           The senses are in overdrive but they tragically come to a crashing halt when the front door opens and a familiar, playfully admonishing tone travels down the stairs. “Hey young man, we don’t have any time for that frisky stuff!  I have a job to do.”  Gem snags my keys and skips to the car for my gear after Yuka, who’s decked out appropriately in combat boots, shredded jeans splattered with orange and black paint, donning her ‘Nazi Punks..Fuck Off’ leather jacket, in homage to her favorite group, The Dead Kennedy’s, gives me a warm kiss on the lips, twirls my hair between her fingers and seductively nibbles my earlobes.  This is way more sensual overload than any eighteen year old, hot blooded guy should have to endure this early in the morning and both of these demonically giggling girls know it.                                                                                                              

           Hauling ass into the flat, Misty is up, greeting me with a hot cup of tea, along with an ashtray and a warm, motherly smile.  She is a very dear lady to put up with all the ‘Misfits’ hijinks, but will readily admit that our chaos keeps her young. “Thanks, Misty, you’re a doll for letting me do this here.”  

           “You’re welcome, Rob.  Oh, you’d better get a move on,” she chuckles, pointing towards Yuka, who is already standing by the chair tapping her foot.

           “I think I’d better, Misty.  Never keep the artist who’s doing your hair waiting.”

“You’ve got that right, mister, now get hoppin’ to Gem’s room and get changed already.”  

“Yes, boss…I’ll get a move on.”  I grab my gear, shuffle past her and playfully goose Yuka’s bottom before she shrieks, picking up a roll of paper towels to hurl in my direction but I laugh manically, slamming the door shut before it harpoons me.  

Setting out the gear, I hurriedly throw on a long black tee, a Motorhead short sleeve over top and a torn pair of jeans with different sized ace of spades, spray painted in black and placed in various spots on the garment, and throw my other tattered leather on Gem’s chair, which has an Exploited skull painted in white on the back with the words ‘Dead Cities’ written below it, and I just recently added some silver, ace of spades on both sleeves.

           Hustling back out, Yuka starts surveying her newest artwork-to-be.  “I was thinking of a Halloween theme, but that’ll be too commonplace tonight, so we’re going with a Brit theme to celebrate Motorhead’s coming to City Gardens.  Sit tight; you’re in for a helluva ride again, baby boy.” She gives me a peck on the cheek before she and Gem are off to the races.  A lot of smoking, giggling and chaos ensue over the next few hours. ‘Liquid Cement’, red and blue mix for the colors, more little cocktail flags to twist in the tips of my Warrior Spikes….Union Jacks for Christ’s sake.  When the wraps are off and cleaned, Gem and Yuka take turns getting pictures with me while Misty gets one of me and the artists’ extraordinaire.

           Finally getting a chance to throw on my combat boots, Gem gives me red and blue bandannas to tie around the tops. Misty thanks us for being such animated company this morning and for organizing the flat back to its pristine condition. ��Making haste for Otis after snagging our gear, we haul ass outta’ Philly since there’s still classes to get through today.  Gem nuzzles up against me on the bench seat and happily leaves off from Yuka’s earlier seduction, nibbling ferociously on my earlobes. Yuka, who looks thoroughly exhausted, takes up residence across the back seat, falling into peaceful somnolence on the ride to campus.

           Gem goes through my mix of cassettes, starting out our venture with Bauhaus’, ‘Bela Lugosi is Dead’.  We stop off at the Wawa to buy smokes and coffee as we get closer to campus since the vending company owning the machines at the Student Union figured out our half priced smokes scheme when the change box was damn near empty but all the cigarettes were gone.  Word of a good thing travels fast, so they unplugged the machine, leaving the Bohemian student population to fend for themselves.  Capitalism wins again.

           The enjoyable sojourn culminates with us swinging wildly into the campus lot, listening to our Philly punk act and friends, The Dead Milkmen, who always have us in stitches with their songs, so ‘Bitchin’ Camaro’ is no exception, especially when Gem is in the crowd for a show and they dedicate it the song to her and the 69’, silver SS, so she loves the song for obvious reasons…

 “Bitchin’ Camaro, bitchin’ Camaro,

Donuts on your lawn,

Bitchin’ Camaro, bitchin’ Camaro

Tony Orlando and Dawn

 When I drive past the kids,

They all spit and cuss,

Cause I’ve got a bitchin’ Camaro

And they have to ride the bus…”

Excerpt from the draft of Rich Cucarese’s (that’s me!!) new fiction novel, ‘PUNKS’, Chapter 10, ‘The Ash Heaps’

[standbyphoenix]

Tofu Guys Don't Eat Meat by Vicki Woods for Vogue, May 1990 (Part I)

River Phoenix is only nineteen. That's the most important thing about him. He's been in the movies so long you'd think he'd be older by now; really knocking on, like... oh, I don't know. Twenty-two or something. But nope. Nineteen. Wholesome as a tofu omelet. And as good-looking as all get-out.

When River isn't making movies, he's making music. He lives with his family in Gainesville, Florida. Ever been to Gainesville? Neither had I. North central Florida isn't exactly a tourist hub, being humid, flat, spotted with alligators, and at least a hundred miles from the ocean in any direction. But it's warm, and Arlyn Phoenix likes the heat. And Gainesville (population ninety thousand and rising) has thirty-five thousand college students living there. The University of Florida, one student told me, is about the cheapest public university in the entire United States, which is why it's busting at the seams with crop-headed, athletic-looking boys in white T-shirts and bermudas who play football by floodlight until the early hours of the morning. Arlyn Phoenix liked the idea of a university town when it came to settle finally, because she wanted plenty of cultural facilities for her brood of children: arts, music, drama.

River Phoenix isn't crop-headed of course. And he doesn't wear bermudas. He arrived at my hotel in his mother's car wearing a jade green Gap sweat-shirt, navy blue long johns, and tennis shoes. He's grown since we last saw him (in Running on Empty - what a tearjerker). He's now five eleven ("Barefoot!''), slim as a willow and hung with wisps of beard like Florida's Spanish moss. He wouldn't shave them off, even for Bruce Weber's pictures. He didn't have to fatten up for his new role in Lawrence Kasdan's I Love You to Death. He plays a pizza chef who has a fairly off-center weltanschauung and tries to help his boss's wife (Tracey Ullman) attempt to murder her husband (Kevin Kline) numerous times .He's a lean pizza chef, playing his age. (He put on fifteen extra pounds for Stand by Me because he was fourteen playing twelve and fatter looks younger.) After I Love You to Death comes Dogfight, directed by Nancy Savoca. I'm really looking forward to it. River plays a marine who has a bet with the other guys that he'll pick up a worse dog - an unhandsome woman - than any of them. This should be a real coming-of-age movie and the first that he'll have to carry on his own. Director Savoca says, "River has an emotional weight that other young actors just don't have."

We went for coffee in Gainesville. The teenage waitress was a little excited, but she kept her cool. "Do you have Venezuelan coffee?" No. "Do you have carrot juice?" No. "Well, I'll just have a double espresso then,'' he said, and promptly ticked away for hours about how hyper he felt from the caffeine. I told him he was a pinup even in the British teen mags and then immediately wished I hadn't. So did he. He laid his beautiful head on the table and groaned with real embarrassment. "A pinup. Oh, God. I wish you hadn't said that. A pinup!" He told me about the publicity stills that were taken of him "when I was younger." You do everything they tell you, he said "they teach you how to pose, you know, they say, 'you have to do it like this!' And you tilt your head, and they show you how to push your lips out and suck in your cheek... oh, oh [groans] and then all the outtakes that you never want to see again in your life go through the teen magazines forever. Oh. oh [more groans]."

It was very funny, but he meant it. Gentlemanly modesty is River's strong suit.

River's press so far has been a combination o large paragraphs about the state of the planet (which can read kind of irritating, from a fifteen-, sixteen-, seventeen-year-old) and a "Wow, freaky!" examination of his unconventional family. Let's take the family first. Arlyn and John Phoenix (him I didn't meet - he was in Mexico with Leaf Joaquin) had a pretty wacky life until they go to Gainesville (and compared with Married... with Children mainstream America it's still a tad wacky). They were sixties dropouts, they were on the road, they thought LSD was a truth serum, they found God, joined a sect, went to South America as missionaries (River was fluent in both Spanish and English from age three), had their babies by natural childbirth, believed in a Whole Earth... you know.Arlyn and John seem to have followed the beat of the sixties drum harder than most, and instead of turning into eighties yuppies, they've hung on in there. They are now perfectly regular folks, with twenty acres of property, a few cars, a few bank accounts, a cook, a gardener, a business manager, and five handsome kids, most of whom are actors, but - they do vegetables instead of drugs now, they don't eat animal products, don't waste paper, wear leather, or overconsume any of the planet's resources. They have SAVE THE RAINFORST stickers on their cars, and their two big dogs, a Doberman-German shepherd mix and a full German shepherd, are both vegans.