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strifesolution · 2 years ago

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The last chapter was so good!! And since you were talking about the fic's details, I was wondering about the playlist (I am listening to the main one on a daily basis) and I imagine that every songs were carefully chosen. I can guess what some songs mean about 5r6c. Like, From Eden is probably about Eden and Callie. You also mentioned that Genghis Khan is Dan and Wilbur's song.

Would you mind explaining how did you choose these songs and how some of them are related to the fic ?

(If this is too bothersome or would spoil too much of the fic, feel free to ignore the question)

LET’S GOOOO we’re so happy you like the playlist :D you’d be correct, most of the songs are chosen pretty deliberately, though a handful are more just there for the “vibe” of the AU rather than specific lyrics.

Link for anyone who hasn’t seen it; we update pretty often! I added Flu Game last night actually. Expect... a lot of art for this AU with the new Fall Out Boy songs LOL

Since there’s… a lot of songs, and a good amount of them would be kinda spoilery, we’ve both chosen one of our favs and wrote up a little analysis.

Here’s Van’s (@irished-lads) of Neon Moon by Brooks and Dun copied straight from our DM’s

~~~

fun fact, this is one of the songs i listened to on repeat while writing the earlier chapters. this is the ideal chapter 16 song in terms of story and vibe, and while an early 90's country song may have not intended to talk abt the intricacies of gay cowboy polyamory, I Sure Can Make It Do That.

peep the beginning;

There's a rundown bar 'cross the railroad track / I got a table for two way in the back / Where I sit alone, and think of losing you

thinks about kevin and sean having their degrees of feeling alone at this point. sean's always had a little bit of a thing for dan (not to mention kevin flirting with sean nigh all the time- note that kevin's only had to pay for one drink), and while kevin may be. erm. Physically Intimate (this is a pg-13 blog) with dan,he also wants more. its that disconnect that him and dan has that feels a mile long. Now. see the chorus:

Now if you lose your one and only, / There's always room here for the lonely

well hey. look at that. some of the loneliest guys in aurora sitting next to each other in a bar sharing a bottle of whiskey. they're friends, sure, but in that moment (ch 16), they recognize that they both can be more than that. to each other, and to dan. theres always room here for the lonely.

~~~~

And here’s mine (Emma here!) of STRIKE 3 by Ferry

This song is where the lyric in the fic's description comes from; it’s one from the PMV series Parties Are For Losers. You don’t need to watch the series to get the gist of the song (it is really good though!) but within the context of the narrative, the singer is voicing their frustrations as they desperately try to help those they care about who keep putting themselves in harms way. “You spin the barrel of a fully loaded gun” is just a fancy way of saying “STOP BEING RECKLESS!!!” because, y’know, it’d be a literal death sentence to play roulette if the gun is fully loaded...

In terms of 5r6c… well, one of the fics' central themes IS protecting the people you love. Dan continuously worries about what life Daithi and Brian had before this that made them criminals, and Sean and Kevin are protective of Dan, thinking Daithi and Brian are dangerous in arc 1, and suspicious of Spiff in arc 2. Here’s a bit from the first chorus…

"If there's no winning, might as well just have some fun." I want to scream, when will you get it through your skull that I will not let you drown? "The light is gone, the thought keeps running through your mind, but fearing life is easier than fighting, right?" Oh please, just hide behind this back of mine and save your helpless spite.

Which is peak sheriff’s office argument back in chapter 7...

I also really like the first verse relating to Daithi and Brian in the gang.

Channeling love through the fear of being torn apart by crowds of your barbarian peers. The human filth around us wants to trample all that is dear under the guise of watchful reason.

We learn from…pretty much every time one of them brings up Evan that it is NOT a very happy place to be, particularly in Brian’s POV of chapter 9.

Lastly, we have the pre-chorus.

A thousand years ago, it was a tepid autumn day. A lock has sealed this door— But no more.

If you recall in chapter 16, we learn the raid on the farm where Dan’s family died was in the fall (not directly, Dan always visits the bar on the anniversary and Sean makes the connection himself…but anyway)

...this is because ding ding ding of this song!

Unfortunately I can’t really talk about the last chorus and outro without SPOILING EVERYTHING so you’ll just have to guess from there ;>

~~~

Hopefully that's some food for thought! Honestly we COULD go over every song on the playlist but then this ask would be WAY too long. Just really quick: Hell's Comin' With Me is a HUUUUGE full story song but I really can’t say who it's about without giving away everything, Ambrosia Wine is the Kiwo/Mango dynamic, and Devil's Train (not on Spotify but would be on the playlist if it was) is gonna fit really well for the next few chapters!

#ask #5r6c #western au #OH YEAH Genghis Khan is the mc!verse RTSoot dynamic #not this AU. its on the playlist for other reasons.#For Eden IS a good guess but it's more a Kevin and Dan song...#tbh there's not really any songs for Callie and Eden here. there's one's that definitely could be seen as referencing them #like Rattlesnake and Absinthe and Line Without A Hook are all Dan songs that reference his parents #but they're not ABOUT them yknow?#considering they've been dead ten years before the narrative it's kinda hard to find some #yadayada ~all this happened because of you and you're not even around to see it~

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newfxckorder · 2 years ago

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Bio Alex

Full Name: Alex Bennett

Nickname: -

Reason for nickname: -

Age: Around 28.

Face claim: Thomas Doherty.

Gender: Male.

Place of Birth: Austin, Texas.

Birthday: August 21th.

Currently living in: wherever the plot requires.

Species/Race: Human usually but depends on thread.

Occupation: Real estate agent.

Sexual Orientation: Omnisexual.

D/s: Switch, versatile.

Relationship Status: Depends on verse.

Kinks: Rough sex, toys, anal play, DP, oral, public sex.

General background:

Alex grew up in a small town I Texas, yet always longed for much more. His move to New York wasn’t just a random choice, he knew life would be much beter for him there. Soon he landed a job as a Realestate agent, yet often using it as a disguise to tend to the needs of the lonely ones that looked for a home. His own home became one which he shared with a few others, among which Aella, who he considers a sister to him.

-----

How Alex came home.

The complex was all fixed up and perfect. The garden had been tended to, a pool had been installed. Now it was time to get it listed. Rainy had taken it upon herself to talk to the real estate agent who she had invited to the home. “You must be Alex.” The man was quite young but that was all the more appealing to Rainy. “It’s good to meet you, Miss. So you wish to rent out the apartments here? Let’s have a look?” Alex said in his Southern accent and followed the woman inside to have the tour. The place was impressive.

After the tour they sat down in the main common room. “Here you are.” She said having poured him a drink, spiking it with a little something extra. If Rainy wanted something she would get it after all. “Thank you.” Alex took the glass of bourbon and took a sip as he looked over the maps of the place. “I think it should be easy to fill this place up.” He mused trying to keep his eyes down when she crossed her legs. The woman was older but definitely good-looking which he had surely noticed. The drink tasted a little strange and no matter how hard he tried to stop it, his cock seemed to harden in his pants. Rainy got up and sat next to him, half leaning over him to point something out on the drawings.

“I’ll be honest with you, we want certain people living here, people that can’t really afford it. To, you know help them, they can pay by doing our bidding.” Rainy mused, her arm lightly brushing against his crotch when she sat back up. “Are you alright, Alex?” She asked in the sweetest tone. “Alex had no clue what had come over him but he suddenly pressed his lips to hers, tongues met eagerly as Rainy’s arms snaked around his neck, straddling his lap.

She grinned against his hard cock through the fabric of his pants, not giving him any chance to change his mind and slid her hand down to undo his zipper and pull his cock out. “Miss, I don’t think that…” Alex started. To which Rainy shushed him. “Just enjoy.” She said as he pulled her skirt up and her panties aside, impaling herself on his thick meat. Alex groaned as he pushed up into her, watching the woman ride his cock, he reached up and pulled her blouse open and the cups of her bra down. “Good cowboy.” Rainy said with a giggle before she moaned to the feeling of his lips around a nipple, squealing a little when he bit her sensitive skin. It only spurred her on to side him harder, bouncing up and down that perfectly thick cock.

Alex groaned, still in a slight disbelief this was even happening but he wasn’t going to complain. “Fuck..” He near growled, feeling the veins in his shaft throbbing harder. “I’m gonna fucking cum.” He said as he slapped her ass hard. Rainy moaned out, feeling her inner walls clenching around him, she wasn’t far off either. “Cum for me, fill my pussy up.” She said as he body started to shock, an orgasm coursing through her while she felt him dump his load deep inside. Rainy buried her face in his neck when he tilted his head back, softly kissing while rotating her hips on top of him. “Mmm your cock is perfect.” She grinned, giving him a moment to catch his breath. Alex expected his cock to go limp inside her now, however he remained hard and overly sensitive. “What the… what did you do?” He asked when he heard the soft giggle from Rainy, groaning as she kept moving on top of him. “I gave you something extra with your drink so you’ll stay perfectly hard for me.” She mused in a sweet tone.

Rainy softly stroked his cheek as she looked into his eyes, lips meeting in passionate yet soft kisses. “Tell me, cowboy, tell me if I’m wrong but I think you like taking the reigns and at the same time you like it when the reigns are taken from you.” She whispered, lifting her hips up to push them back down hard. Alex nodded slowly, biting his lip to her question. “I want more of you, cowboy, I want more of your cock so I have a business proposition for you. You pick a apartment and move in and your body is mine whenever I want it, it could be that you’re doing anything else and I just start sucking your cock in the middle of a room or maybe I’ll spank you. Anything, anytime anywhere. In return, you can do as you please when you want my body. Fuck me randomly, anything you can think of and I’ll also put a large investment into your real estate company as I know you’re just starting out.” She said as she slowly bounced on his cock, letting a moan slide every so often. Rainy was addicted to sex in any way or form and having more partners did help.

Alex didn’t even have to think about the offer. “You got yourself a deal lady.” He said before lifting her up, his cock still inside her as he carried her to the bed, laying her down to fuck her hard in that wet pussy of hers. Rainy near screamed. “Yes! Oh fuck that’s it!” She managed to say before Alex grabbed her by the throat, chocking her while she came on his cock again, only then letting her breathe again.

“It’s good to be home.”

#bio: Alex #muse

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solitariovaquero-blog · 7 years ago

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@wakairyuu

“Ya need to calm the hell down fella, because ya ain’t really gettin’ nowhere just flirtin with every pretty lady ya happen to see.”

#wakairyuu #stranger; greeter #Lone Cowboy; Main Verse #dont mind him hes just grumpy because nobody loves him #rip

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fallout-fallen-knight · 4 years ago

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Meet My OCs masterpost!

It’s been a while since I’ve done one of these and I’ve gotten a lot of new followers and several new OCs in that time. Enough now that I should probably put them under a read more. OCs are divided up by main setting that they fall under - even though all my Fallout content takes place in its own ‘verse (distinct from the canon Fallout verse in that there are horses, among other differences), the various coasts tend to be pretty separate. Without further ado:

Fallen Knight

Fallen Knight is a longform fic that is currently and irregularly updating. It takes place in the Commonwealth in 2287-2289, featuring a mix of canon characters (often modified to my own convenience) and OCs. It can be found here.

Christopher Farris, aka the Fallen Knight (Lone Wanderer)

[image ID: a drawing of Christopher Farris by @scarecrow-forest. He is a white, blond man wearing a baseball cap, a green shirt, and a long tan vest. He is holding a baseball bat and has a pip-boy on his arm. End ID]

Christopher is my lone wanderer that I ported to Fallout 4. He is (currently) a Brotherhood of Steel Knight alongside Paladin Danse. He is the main character of Fallout: Fallen Knight. He has a strong moral compass and idolizes the knightly ideas of protecting the weak and confronting the strong. Content for him on my blog can be found at #fallen knight.

Kristine Finch, Minuteman General

[image ID: a screenshot from Fallout 4 of Kristine Finch. She is a light-skinned woman in a blue shirt and tan jacket, with a cowboy-like hat. She is standing in front of a ramshackle wooden building with a neon sign that says “Minuteman HQ”. End ID]

Kristine is my Minuteman OC and the General of the Minutemen. Under her leadership, they have worked to make the commonwealth safer by uniting various settlements to exchange resources and provide mutual defense. She has also published the Minuteman Guide To Commonwealth Travel, also known as the Blue Book, a handy pamphlet for settlers and traders making their way across the Commonwealth. Content for her can be found at #one if by land.

Thomas “The Trigger” Calvani

[image ID: a screenshot from Fallout 4 of Thomas Calvani. He is a white, brown-haired man in road leathers with various leather armor layered over it. He wears a pair of reflective aviator sunglasses and a green bandana covering his face. He is standing in front of power armor with flames painted on it. End ID]

Thomas Calvani is a ne’er-do-well from the Atom Cats who has somehow managed to continuously fall upwards, somehow culminating with him as the Overboss of the Nuka World raiders after trying to go to Nuka World with MacCready and Cait. Content for him can be found at #tales from the commonwealth.

Greetings from Appalachia

Hector Sanchez (Reclaimer)

[image ID: a Vault Tec ID card from Fallout 76. It belongs to Hector Sanchez, a latine man with brown hair, a Vault 76 jumpsuit, and a van dyke beard. He is smiling and giving a thumbs up to the camera. End ID]

Hector Sanchez is an amateur cryptid hunter from Vault 76. Raised in the vault on his mother’s stories of cryptids before the war, he left the vault with his best friend Hazel in search of cryptids to find. Content for him can be found at #greetings from appalachia.

Fallout: Brave New World

Brave New World is a collection of various OCs who end up in the Mojave wasteland at the same time, in around 2289 or so. While no unifying narrative yet exists, I am planning some ficlets/short form fic around these OCs.

Ace (Courier 6)

[image ID: a screenshot from Fallout: New Vegas of Ace. He is a latine man with an eyepatch, a black cowboy hat, and a black leather coat over blue jeans, with several belts and bandoliers. He is standing in front of Dinky the Dinosaur and pointing a gun off screen. End ID]

Ace is my courier, and a member of the Great Khans. Still a teenager when Bitter Springs happened, he was separated from the rest of the Khans and spent his remaining teenage years doing odd jobs around the Mojave and avoiding the encroaching NCR, culminating in a fateful job for the Mojave Express. He now finds himself down one eye, hunting the Mojave for Benny and the platinum chip. Content for him can be found at #ace in the hole.

Sophia Mobius

[image ID: a screenshot of Fallout: New Vegas of Sophia Mobius. She is a white woman with white hair and round, cat-eye glasses. She is wearing a red labcoat and has the holorifle strapped to her back. End ID]

Sophia is a Followers medic turned disciple of Doctor Mobius after a chance encounter with a crashed satellite sent her to the Big MT. She later traveled to the Sierra Madre casino with Arcade and Veronica to hunt down and stop Father Elijah. She is now working with the Veronica and Christine to convince Brotherhood members to leave, smuggling out technology if possible, to assist the Followers of the Apocalypse. Content for her can be found at #followers of mobius

Martin Goldberg aka the Silver Canary (Reclaimer)

[image ID: a drawing of Martin Goldberg and Emmerane Black, aka the Silver Canary and Coal Black, by @rotarydials. Martin is a dark skinned man with silver hair and a beard. He is dressed in the Silver Shroud’s outfit - a black and gray trenchcoat and fedora with a silver scarf. He carries a submachine gun, which he is pointing off camera. Emmerane is a white woman with short black hair. She has black goggles and a black cloak over a white shirt and red vest. She is doing air-guitar motions. They both have pip-boys. End ID]

Martin Goldberg, known better as the Silver Canary, was a pre-war vigilante and the inspiration for the Silver Shroud. As a staunch anti-fascist and anti-capitalist, he had several encounters with the movers and shakers of American industry, notably Robert House, whose suite Martin broke into while he was visiting a West Virginia plant. Upon learning about Vault-Tec’s plans for Vault 76, he broke into Vault Tec University, changing the list of vault residents to a list of random West Virginia citizens, as well as himself.

While in the Vault, Emmerane Black, a moody young woman born in the vault, declared herself his nemesis. When they left the vault in 2102, he learned of this, and instead decided to take her under his wing, forcibly adopting the young supervillain. Though they clashed often at first, they quickly found they had more in common than they realized, and soon teamed up to take on certain targets - most notably the Brotherhood of Steel.

At some point in the following years, both Martin and Emmerane ghoulified, and in the late 2200s, Martin traveled west, to find his old nemesis, Robert House. He now haunts the areas around Vegas, a mysterious spectre doling out justice to the wicked. Content for Martin and Emmerane can be found at #the silver canary and coal black. Emmerane belongs to @corsairesix

Caroline Keene, Ranger of the Wastes

[image ID: a screenshot from HeroForge of a black ghoul woman with short braids. She is wearing a cowboy hat, long duster, cowboy boots, and a shirt and pants that are all brown with tan accents. She has a revolver and a knife strapped to her hip and a repeater on her back. She is offering a hammered tin cup to the “camera”. End ID]

Caroline Keene was a park ranger in a firewatch tower in Monongahela National Forest when the bombs fell. After a few days of quiet introspection, her and some of her fellow rangers agreed to make their way to the nearest town to find survivors, slowly making their way to Flatwoods and then Morgantown to join the Responders.

After helping the Responders stabilize Appalachia in the wake of the Great War and faction infighting that followed, Caroline traveled west, continuing to help out those in need as he crossed the country that had once been America. During this time, she began to ghoulify; though initially and understandably distraught, a community of ghouls in what was once Texas helped her to accept her condition. Upon arriving in the Mojave, she found that her reputation as the “Ranger of the Wastes” preceded her, and she was recruited by the desert rangers, though she left again when they were incorporated with the NCR. Now, she has settled in the Mojave, starting a brahmin and bighorner ranch with her partners, and helping shelter, teach, and raise lost and disaffected youth in the Mojave. Content for her can be found at #ranger of the wastes

The King of the Road (Chosen One)

[image ID: a screenshot of Heroforge of a dark skinned ghoul in a black suit. He has a red tie and a red cape, and is wearing round glasses and an opulent crown. He carries a spear and has a holstered revolver on his hip. Near his feet is a pile of coins and a gray cat, ready to pounce. End ID]

The King of the Road was once the Chosen One of Arroyo, but became disatisfied with the duties of ruling and the pressures of being the tribe’s chosen one. In 2244, he left Arroyo, wandering New California as a drifter. He abanoned his name and title, choosing instead to take the name of the King of the Road as his renown as a drifter grew. He ghoulified due to his exposure to radiation over the years, but took to the change rather well. He continued to travel the roads of New California, eventually finding his way to the Mojave wasteland as the NCR did. Content for him can be found at #king of the road (when I make it).

Angelia King

[image ID: a Heroforge mini of a white woman seated on a white horse. She is wearing a tan jacket over a brown chest piece, chaps, and tan cowboy boots. She has a red bandana around her neck and several belts around her waist, one of which holds a holstered pistol. Her left eye is covered by an eyepatch and there is dark makeup around both of her eyes. She has short dyed blonde and red hair that is shaved on one side. She is brandishing a rifle towards the camera and there is a sawed-off shotgun on her back. End ID]

Angelina King, the leader of the Nightstalkers, a gang in the Mojave in 2289. When Ace drives the NCR out of the Mojave, she at first believes that she will be allowed to operate with relative impunity; however, when the NCR supply trains stop coming from the west (no longer needing to fight a war that has been lost), she starts hitting caravans first and then larger settlements, carving her way across the Mojave towards New Vegas. Content for her can be found at #the nightstalkers strike again.

Other OCs

Hannah Alton

[image ID: a screenshot from Heroforge of a white woman wearing a forest green cloak. She has a brown cloth wrapped around her chest and blue jeans on. She has a quiver of crossbow bolts on her hip and is holding a crossbow. She has red hair and several piercings. End ID]

Hannah Alton is my PC for our Fallout: New Orleans campaign run by and using the PBTA hack Powered by the Nuclear Apocalypse made by @corsairesix. Hannah is a “raider” from a gang called the Robbin’ Hoods, a gang dedicated to stealing from New Orleans’ ghoul aristocrats and redistributing their wealth to the town they’re based in. Content for her can e found on #fallout New Orleans and #powered by the nuclear apocalypse

#queue #fallen knight #one if by land #tales from the commonwealth #greetings from appalachia #ace in the hole #followers of mobius #the silver canary and coal black #ranger of the wastes #king of the road #fallout new orleans #powered by the nuclear apocalypse #the nightstalkers strike again

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halseyhazzard · 4 years ago

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The Redemption of Judee Sill

Halsey Hazzard, fall 2018

for a writing class on pop culture criticism “So much sensationalist bullshit has been written about Judee Sill (by people who never knew her) focusing on her days as a hooker and a junkie.” So begins Pat Thomas’s interview with Tommy Peltier, a longtime friend and collaborator of Sill’s, in the liner notes to the recently and lovingly compiled “Songs of Rapture and Redemption: Rarities & Live.” He’s not wrong; in nearly all of the writing on Sill, her music, an inimitable blend of gospel, folk and country at once bluesy and baroque, plays second fiddle to the stranger- and sadder-than-fiction story of her all-too-brief life. Her eponymous 1971 debut and 1973’s Heart Food were met with praise from critics and her fellow songwriters alike; in 1973 Steve Holden called Judee a “most gifted artist, one who continues to promise almost more than I dare hope for.” Unfortunately — for Sill and for those who loved her, and for those of us who love her music — much of that promise never came to pass. She died in obscurity in 1979, leaving behind an unfinished third record and quietly ascending to the pantheon of young, brilliant musicians who died too soon.

It’s hard to write about Sill without relying on sensationalist bullshit. I suppose in writing this at all I’m contributing to the problem, but like so many others, I have joined the ranks of Sill’s devoted disciples, compelled to tell and retell her story to rectify fate’s perceived cruel disservice to a great talent. What emerges is not always a faithful portrait of the complicated artist Sill was, but rather a shifting and sometimes contradictory fable that cements Sill’s status as a legend — not, as she might have hoped, as “an extremely famous or notorious person,” but rather as the subject of a “story sometimes popularly regarded as historical but unauthenticated.”

The story goes something like this: Judee Sill was born Judith Lynne Sill to an average, unhappy middle class household in Los Angeles in 1944. She fell in with a rough crowd, got married, committed a series of crimes, got addicted to various drugs, went to jail, got married again. Eventually she cleaned up her act, put the gospel licks she’d learned in reform school to good use, and became the first act signed to David Geffen’s Asylum label. She put out two albums of intricate songs that married earthly desire and longing for heavenly salvation, populated with lonely cowboy types and vigilantes that sometimes seemed strikingly similar to Jesus. For a few shining years it seemed like Sill had made it. It soon became clear (the story goes) that fame was not what fate had in store for her. Until 2003, when Rhino issued Judee Sill and Heart Food on CDs for the first time as part of its Handmade series, Sill was “[u]nlamented and all but forgotten.” These are the words of Barney Hoskyns, who in a 2004 Guardian profile declared “[t]he tragic Judee Sill is well overdue for (re)discovery.” Since then, interest in Sill’s life and music has steadily increased thanks to a series of posthumous reissues and releases: 2005’s “Dreams Come True,” a two-disk set of unreleased recordings mixed by Jim O’Rourke (Sonic Youth, Wilco); Live in London: The BBC Recordings 1972-1973, released in 2007; and “Chariot of Astral Light,” an intimate collaboration with aforementioned Tommy Peltier recorded in the ‘70s and finally released in 2004.

In a review of the 2004 Intervention reissue of Judee Sill titled “The Judee Sill Cult Continues, This Time at 45RPM,” Michael Fremer of Analogplanet writes, “sometimes "legends" are created and nurtured simply by tragic circumstances. In Judee Sill's case add wasted talent and unfulfilled great promise that add up to a movie worthy story.” Sill’s life has yet to inspire a movie (although a seemingly-deserted IMDB page indicates at least one attempt at a documentary), but songwriter Laura Veirs’ “Song for Judee,” renders the Judee Sill legend in sparse yet cinematic detail. In it, Veirs’ voice echoes on top of warm, jangling guitars, the apparently upbeat melody betrayed by the sadness of the story it tells:

“You wrote “The Kiss” and it is beautiful

I can listen again and again

You never really got a break

From the car wrecks and the pain”

The crux of the Judee Sill legend is captured in these lines, which immediately identify Sill’s work with the tragic events of her life. Sill’s music is mentioned in Veir’s lyric but once, and only glancingly; it’s not even clear “The Kiss” is a song, or “Judee” a songwriter. Veirs’ appreciation for her music is given is as pretext for why the listener should care about Sill’s life, but it’s clear the main attraction here is tragedy. The rest of this atypical ode is not praise, but a retelling, addressed to Sill herself, of key moments in the legend of her life. What emerges is a tellingly concise fable that identifies Sill with the lonely phantom cowboys who populate her lyrical landscape.

Veirs appears to have lifted her narrative and several phrases from the BBC documentary. She mines in particular the commentary from Peltier, who says Sill was his best friend and shares the insights that would come to compose Veirs’ chorus: “You loved the Sons of the Pioneers and the Hollywood cowboy stars/you were just trying to put a hand to where we are.” She also borrows, nearly word-for-word, an introduction Judee gave during one of her London radio performances in 1972, describing her time “living in a ‘55 Cadillac, five people sleeping in shifts.” This almost creates an intimacy with Sill, whom Veirs had never met; however, there remains an insurmountable distance. Sill had been dead 35 years — as long as she was alive — by the time this ode was composed. While Veirs hints at Sill’s troubles in the first verse, only in the last verse does she make explicit what happened: “They found you with a needle in your arm, beloved books strewn ‘round at your feet”. The revelation gives the chorus retroactive prophetic relevance. The past tense, once wistful, is now crushing.

Her death, like her life, became part of the legend. There are general points of agreement: she had been in several car accidents, was using heroin again, and died of an overdose just after Thanksgiving 1979. Everything else is less clear. Though her death certificate reports she was found dead in her house in North Hollywood, a persistent rumor suggested she had disappeared to Mexico to live out her final days. Her death was reported as a suicide, but family members and friends maintain that the note found near her, a characteristic musing on death and redemption, was an idea for a song.

The title of a 2014 BBC Radio documentary by Ruth Barnes says it all: “The Lost Genius of Judee Sill.” Sill’s genius is preceded by its lostness. Sill herself comes last. Her music is mentioned too, of course. They quote Sill’s self-description of her work as “country-cult-baroque” and her professed influences, Bach and Pythagoras. (In some versions of the quote, Ray Charles is thrown in.) Yet every time, it seems, someone brings up that she wrote “Jesus Was a Crossmaker,” about JD Souther, that Graham Nash produced it. She was the inaugural artist on David Geffen’s Asylum, we’re told, .She opened for Crosby Stills and Nash, and Cat Stevens, and Gordon Lightfoot — and so on. These revelations are usually accompanied by astonishment at the fact that she failed to find the commercial success of her peers, despite her comparable — perhaps superior — talents.

Many have offered explanations about how this happened. There is a general consensus that her falling-out with Geffen played a role. It’s not exactly clear what happened. The word “faggot” was involved, but whether it was said live or on the radio, in reference to Geffen himself or a pair of his pink shoes, is up for debate. Whatever she said severed their relationship. Some contend that she may have been in love with him, and was hurt when he spurned her advances. Others point out that she was growing frustrated with what she saw as his lack of promotion for her music. By this point, she was already making no secret of her disdain for the “snotty rock bands” she had to open for, and I doubt this did her any favors.

The contradictions in people’s stories exacerbate the larger-than-life quality of her life and times, as do the many cliches used to tell her story. Headlines variously declare her “a star that fame forgot,” “L.A.’s doomed lady of the canyon who lost her genius to drugs,” a “mystic” who “walked among us.” The human Judee Sill is lost somewhere beneath this sensationalism. It is no wonder why her friends and family members, Tommy Peltier chief among them, feel so compelled to set the record straight by providing their version of events. In his remarks in “Songs of Rapture and Redemption,” Peltier is quick to discourage speculation about her drug use and past prostitution, declaring instead “She was just the most beautiful person.”

“Beautiful,” you may recall, was the only word Laura Veirs could come up with to describe “The Kiss.” When I first heard “The Kiss,” I was immediately struck by how inadequate the word was to describe what I was hearing. The song showcases the best of her efforts to induce mathematically precise intervals into intricate melodies that aren’t so much heard as felt. Her lyrics, confusing the sacred and profane, ride the thin ridge between love and logic, devotion and desperation. Over shifting and plaintive piano Sill sings a eulogy to stars bursting in the sky and begs a lover — god? — to come and hold her “while you show me how to fly.” I first heard “The Kiss” in a YouTube video, one of few that survives of her performing, whose introduction insists that she herself was determined to be a successful musician. Ironically, the video shows precisely why perhaps she couldn’t be: severe and guileless, Sill hunches over the piano as if it were all that exists, engrossed in the song’s intense and uncommercial emotional intensity.

Sill’s idiosyncrasies are on full display in “Songs of Rapture and Redemption”, a compilation whose greatest strength is its commitment to capturing the artist and all her contradictions in her own words. The sleeve features a candid photograph of a smiling Sill, alongside several of her paintings and drawings. The tracks included are a combination of live recordings, demos, and studio outtakes that lay bare the deceptive complexity of her compositions. In the Boston Music Hall performance that opens the record, Sill, armed only with an acoustic guitar, tells the audience “I’m going to sing you a few little songs before David [Crosby] and Graham [Nash] get here. I’d like to sing you this song called “The Vigilante”. It’s new, I hope I remember the words.” The self-effacing introduction notwithstanding, what follows is nothing short of revelatory.

An early highlight is “Enchanted Sky Machines,” a bluesy number about waiting for the end of the world where she trades her distinctive fingerpicking for pentecostal piano licks she picked up in reform school. There is an aching earnestness to the way she sings of swallowing her yearning, and it carries over into “The Archetypal Man,” which begins with Sill singing the song’s opening harpsichord solo. Before “Crayon Angels,” she describes how she would call up friends as she was writing the album and sing them instrumental solos, joking that it must have been hard for them to like her in those days. The crowd is in on it, and her self-deprecating humor belies a clear confidence in her talents and her musical vision that is justified by the virtuosic grace of her playing. Sill was a perfectionist who demanded and deserved creative control, a notoriously laborious songwriter who could be a tyrant in the studio, and these tendencies are on full display even in this humble solo set. When she introduces her second last song, “The Lamb Ran Away With the Crown,” she enunciates every word, then repeats it again — ”with. the. crown.” — determined to ensure the the audience walks away knowing exactly what she was saying.

The set ends with Judee’s signature song, “Jesus Was a Crossmaker,” which had only just been released to radio two days prior. She calmly reveals the song’s inspiration, an unhappy relationship with a “bandit and a heartbreaker,” and describes waking up one day with the conviction “that even that wretched bastard was not beyond redemption.” Her diction is clear, her tone less so. The audience, nonetheless moved, cheers and laughs. She goes on: “It’s true, I swear. It saved me, this song. It was writing this song or suicide. It’s called “Jesus is a Crossmaker” and I hope you like it.” Her voice seems monotonous for such an emotional confession, but that stops mattering as soon as the song begins.

Instantly her singing voice, freed from the perfectionism of her studio recordings, reveals itself as strikingly human. Precise, unadorned, free of vibrato, it is flat in places, sharp in others, yet cuts to the rhythmic core of each note. She struggles with a few of the intervals she has given herself to sing, but this only enhances the song, giving human voice to the mathematical precision of her compositions, linking the downtrodden with the divine. With her unpretentious voice and deceptively simple language, she strives to speak redemption into being. Her longing for it is audible.

Such longing is a key theme in much of sill’s work, and nowhere is it more pronounced than in “Crayon Angels”:

Crayon Angel songs are slightly out of tune

But I'm sure I'm not to blame

Nothing's happened, but I think it will soon

So I sit here waiting for God and a train to the Astral plane

Later in the song, she confesses “Guess reality is not as it seems so I sit here hoping for truth, and a ride to the other side”. Sill knows the truth she longs for is unattainable, at least in this lifetime — but she remains unflagging in her belief in something. It is this belief that motivates her music. To characterize Sill as a god-given genius laid low by fate undercuts her formidable musical ambition, and the sincerity with which she approached her craft. The work she created was not purely inspired by the divine, but instead strove for it, confronting the inevitable impossibility of reaching perfection with the all-too-human drive for beauty in the face of death. Still, one gets the sense that Sill herself, enthralled as she was with cowboy stories and cosmic secrets, might appreciate the mythic proportions her life story has taken. I like to think that she’s made it to the Astral plane, and that wherever she is, she’s smiling.

#h: assignment #h: 2018 #judee sill #music criticism #folk music #songs of rapture and redemption

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thejonzone · 4 years ago

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Jon Writes a Year-End List

My favorite songs of 2020, alphabetically by artist

Bedouine (Margo Guryan cover)- The Hum

The original Guryan version is good but Bedouine’s take is cleaner, all the better to emphasize Guryan’s blissful songwriting. I could listen to the chords in the chorus forever.

Bob Dylan- I’ve Made Up My Mind to Give My Heart to You

It’s nice to hear Bob sing a yearning and clear-eyed love song. And the way he stretches out his words gives the whole thing a confidence that’s easy to get lost in.

Boldy James- Giant Slide

Boldy had a great year, and it’s The Price of Tea in China with Alchemist producing that stood out to me.

Empty Country- Becca

I don’t go to music festivals anymore, but listening to this album makes me dream of hearing it live, while being dehydrated, sweaty, feet hurting, holding in a p*op, a late afternoon sunburn loading. I want the whole thing!!

fawning, Rui Gabriel ft. Jack Riley- God

Toss it on the cloudy day walking playlist!

Frances Quinlan- Went to LA

Great cathartic yell in this one. Quinlan builds up a palpable tension here. It rocks.

Judy ft. Jack Dolan, jommis- Say What U Mean

You’ve got to imagine these fellas knew they had put a few catchy melodies down while trying to out-croon each other.

Kurt Vile ft. John Prine (John Prine cover)- How Lucky

A Prine acolyte with a feature from the man himself. RIP.

Lala Lala, Grapetooth- Valentine

Kind of like a slow-dance song at nightmare prom. I love the percussion and Frankel’s villainously-low voice.

Lil Durk- Street Affection

The range of emotions Durk can access and scroll through is impressive.

Miranda Winters- Little Baby Dead Bird

Scuzzy guitar and violin create a hypnotic effect in this evocative dirge. Miranda Winters is such a good singer. Check out her main band, Melkbelly-- they put out a great album this year!

Nap Eyes- Mark Zuckerberg

Two guitars: one is pointy, the other is chugging. That is the correct way to do two guitars.

Noname- Song 33

This song is 70 seconds. 70! Noname casually negates J. Cole and the song isn’t even about him. She’s so great.

Ratboys- I Go Out at Night

Julia Steiner is on her The Hours shit in this melancholic fantasy of leaving and not returning.

Rio da Yung OG, Lil Yachty- 1v1

I like how Yachty comes in on his verse! It’s been fun to see him back in action with his new Michigan friends. Rio is the star here, though. And Enrgy too.

Soccer Mommy- yellow is the color of her eyes

Sophia Allison’s delivery of “The tiny lie I told to myself is making me hollow” might be my line of the year.

Swamp Dogg- Memories

The whole of Sorry You Couldn’t Make It is great, but for Swamp Dogg, who has covered John Prine, to work with the man before he died is a special accomplishment, and we’re better off that it’s recorded.

Tall Juan- Irene

One of my favorite 2020 releases. And I’ll be a bit vulnerable here folks….when I am walking outside and this song comes on, I push my butt out a little bit and walk like I have rhythm and purpose.

Tierra Whack- Dora

I’m so excited to see what Tierra Whack does, from her beat selection to how she jumps between flow and cadence. She understands herself so well.

Non-2020-specific Music I Enjoyed, in Superlative Form

Group Vocal Performance Most Likely to Pierce Your Heartless Facade

Yesu Ka Mkwebaze

Best Song to Listen to if You are an 1850’s-era whaler in Your Feels

Mary Ann

Favorite Duet (Not Blood-Related)

Emmylou Harris and Herb Pedersen (but mostly Emmylou) create such an intricate and gorgeous melody on “If I Could Only Win Your Love”. Pedal steel heads and mandolin freaks, eat up.

Favorite Duet (Blood-related)

The Louvin Brothers- When I Stop Dreaming

Any longtime friends of the show know I’m a big fan of the singing duo The Louvin Brothers. They’ve got that golden country tone but it’s the blood harmony that turns these guys into something else entirely.

And here’s the kicker, folks. Emmylou covered When I Stop Dreaming! How coincidental for all of us reading this End of Year list…. The Louvins are my preferred version, but Emmylou, that you could help me make this connection is enough, dayenu!

Most Surprising Use of a Song in a Network TV Show

"Yama Yama" by the Yamasuki Singers, Fargo Season 2

When I was a dishwasher at St. James Cheese Co., late 2016ish, this CD was in our back of house music rotation. It is a magical album-- a Japanese children's choir with French pop production (think a bunch of bells and shit). I never learned the name of the album while working there and it fell out of my mind until years later when, after remembering how much I loved it, realized I had no idea how to find it. The pain of typing different spellings of “japanese children’s choir” into google for days on end.....I literally yelled when Fargo used this in its Season 2 big boy shootout. *chef’s kiss*

Best Album by a Spiritually Hungry Musical Genius, Lapping Her Contemporaries in Arrangement, Theme, and Songwriting, Gone Before Her Time

Judee Sill’s self-titled debut.

Best Use of a Second Keyboard in A Keyboard Solo

Fountains of Wayne’s Red Dragon Tattoo

Do I mean to say synthesizer? Not sure. RIP Adam Schlesinger and long live FoW. What a loss.

Best Vibes/ Song I’d Most Want to Show Ezra Koenig so That We’d Bond & Become Friends

Zibote

Best Lyrics Written by a Jew in 1920’s NYC Being Sung by Willie Nelson

Lonely rivers flow to the sea, to the sea / to the open arms of the sea

Favorite TV Shows

Ramy

-Second season shook its focus on the titular character and oh am I thankful. Not that Ramy himself isn’t great, he is, but the entire cast here deserves attention. The Uncle Naseem episode. The Uncle Naseem episode. Ahem. The Uncle Naseem episode.

Joe Pera Talks with You

Lovecraft Country

-Small gripes and complicated plotlines aside, this anthology connecting gothic horror, racism, and American history is phenomenal.

Small Axe

-The second installment in this series, Lovers Rock, which takes place at a party, is the vicarious shot in the arm you deserve, you little extroverted thing you.

I May Destroy You

Betty

The Last Dance

-The first Bulls game I ever went to was the first game *without* Michael Jordan, at the beginning of the ‘98-’99 season. Bad timing.

The Chi

Schitt’s Creek

-This show was never about the plot. Am I allowed to say that? I’ve never cared less for a plot and more for a cast. Catherine O’Hara is in her own league above us all.

Jon Writes a Year-End List

In 2019, my roommate June and I took a road trip through the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. I was out of a relationship, happily or unhappily I wasn’t sure yet, but along the way I downloaded Tinder hoping to meet a local who’d be excited to make out with me. There wasn’t much bite on my line, but by the time we reached Marquette, largely due to my good looks and charisma I’d orchestrated some type of group date with June, me, a girl from Tinder, and her friend.

We met at a dingy karaoke bar and drank for cheap. Nobody wanted to hear me sing, but I got on stage anyway and gave “Willin” by Little Feat a go. Some guy at the bar in a maroon work shirt looked at me, scoffed, and left to smoke outside. The four of us weren’t hitting it off, even with alcohol. I and the friend made a plan to sing “Mommas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow up to Be Cowboys'', but she quickly abandoned the duet after we had begun, citing a lack of vibes.

But we kept singing and drinking and hours later I was leaning against the bar, waiting to order, standing next to maroon-shirt guy who had so easily shrugged off my existence earlier. What caught my eye as I stood next to him was a Star of David tattoo on his forearm. And sure enough, the name tag stitched onto his shirt identified him as “Isaac”. Well I’ll goddamn be-- this guy was frickin Jewish! I was shocked-- I assumed he was goy in the same way I assumed everyone I ran into up there would be.

For just one unconscious assumption (I’m the only Jewish person in this Marquette karaoke bar) to be wrong felt great. My assumptions are really awful. I assumed maroon-shirt hated my guts. I assumed these two girls we were drinking with thought I was a loser too. I assume people don’t like me or respect me or have any interest in getting to know me. I tell awful stories about myself to myself, and my assumptions about the world are limiting and boring! With patience, “guy at bar who kinda scowled at me” had all of a sudden turned into “my new friend Isaac” who, after a few minutes of conversation, I “asked to bum a cigarette from.”

One of my favorite shows of 2020 was Joe Pera Talks With You. I still remember watching Joe Pera’s stand-up for the first time, and then rewatching and rewatching, savoring his cadence. He dressed and spoke like a grandpa, replete with pitch-perfect, kinda-gross mouth sounds, stutters, and low-but-driving energy. It’s a good bit, and Joe has morphed it into probably the funniest, sweetest, and least-pandering show of 2020. What I love about this show is its foundational belief that anyone can surprise you, you just need to give yourself time to notice.

I didn’t end up making out with anyone but I did wake up the next morning with the worst hangover of my life. Wake up, barf, whimper. As June drove us out of Marquette, I could barely keep my eyes open. I did notice, however, a massive, wooden structure jutting out into Lake Superior.

It is this same Lake Superior structure that Joe Pera Talks With You fixates on for its first shot of Season 2. Yes, this is an Adult Swim show that takes place in none other than Marquette, Michigan! Which is weird. Think about other movies, shows, or books that take place in the U.P. You can’t! Even zooming out to include the larger Upper-Great Lakes region leaves us with an almost-empty net: The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald by Gordon Lightfoot and titular Gatsby’s origin story on Lake Superior. These are stories of hard living and life and death on the dangerous Great Lakes. But neither of those are specific to the Upper Peninsula.

Regions are an easy if reductive lens with which to attempt to view and understand people. In 2020, broad and sweeping generalizations about large swaths of people continued to gain power. There was the movie adaptation of JD Vance’s ahistorical Hillbilly Elegy. Woolly-eyed liberals trotted out fake maps of a preferred America that holds only the “good” blue states, not at all engaging in the history of racism and voter suppression that got us here. Besides the fact that Georgia went blue. And Democratic strongholds like California, New York, and Chicago betray any notion of a “better” America. The sins of this nation are not cordoned off into one section or time zone, no region is monolithic, and most importantly, no person can be explained away with a quick sentence.

There is no regional monolith more widely misunderstood than the Midwestern gestalt. Fargo (the show) does a great job of serializing this one type of Midwestern character-- they say “oh sure, happy to help” and they’re murderers. So for Joe Pera to settle his show in the U.P. is a fun choice. Most Americans are probably hard-pressed to conjure an accurate mental picture of who the U.P. is, so Pera creates his own flavor of a seemingly-recognizable small Midwestern town.

In the first episode, Joe walks us through the bean arch he’s growing. Why grow snap beans? “Beans are straightforward.” Straightforwardness, or the appearance of, is central to Pera’s charm. Pera’s shtick is walking the audience through a basic task that can serve as a metaphor for a larger existential question. This conceit isn’t new to Pera, but it has been en vogue recently, with shows like Andy Daly’s Review and the new HBO show How To with John Wilson. These shows present a simple stated goal that obfuscates a larger, more complex grapple.

Joe Pera Talks With You is incredible and endearing because of the genuine tone Pera gives his tight-knit Marquette. We’re getting deranged lunatics like Conner O’Malley and Dan Licata to write jokes for 70-year old Michigan grandmas at a salon. The show trades in the perceived Midwestern folksiness for a punchline, yet doesn’t lose itself in irony or resentment.

Every character in the Joe Pera universe has the opportunity to be profound. Pera gives every character the patience they deserve; even O’Malley’s berserk Joe Rogan listening-caricature Mike Melsky gets incredible moments of vulnerability. It’s a rare comedy: self-aware but not self-obsessed, sweet but not gross, and uniquely funny.

Nowhere else on TV are you going to see such consistently great acting. Some of the best working comedians are in this season. Conner O’Malley has found a way to tap into his unsettling grotesque that is a pleasure to watch, playing characters at the ends of their ropes, shrieking. Jo Firestone is hilarious and essential as Joe’s doom-prepper girlfriend Sarah. We get guest stars like genius Carmen Christopher. Even one-line role players like Joe’s teacher-coworker, who says Joe and Sarah go together “like desk and chair,” knock it out of the park.

The questions at the heart of Talks With You feel more pronounced in a year of death and isolation. How do we connect with people? How can we really be there for our loved ones? How can we feel comfortable in our own skin? The show came out pre-pandemic but Pera’s touch and pacing is universal.

It’s difficult not to compare Talks With You to How to with John Wilson. The two shows have a lot in common. Both protagonists are soft-spoken, and speak at an arrhythmic clip. John Wilson’s voice is affected just like Pera’s; both vocal deliveries are meant to engender trust by signaling to us that they’re lacking some social confidence. But I don’t buy Wilson’s shtick as much as Pera’s.

John Wilson’s show is not straightforward in the same way Pera’s is, and the show suffers under the added weight of pretense. Wilson’s tangents lead us to places that barely fit under the established thematic umbrella and feel forced. On memory, Wilson’s adventure with the Mandela Effect turns from fascinating to boring as the truthers devolve into sketch characters, viewing simple spelling errors with magnifying glasses. “How to Cover Your Furniture” spends an upsettingly long amount of time with an anti-circumcision advocate as Wilson works through the question of how much we are allowed to change parts of other people. Meant to appear as if they effortlessly fell into place, these characters feel shoe-horned in.

Both characters and shows are performative authenticity, and Joe Pera and John Wilson’s whole deal is their status as observer. This year, many of us have become observers. I know I have: unemployed, unable to see people, watching death counts climb, sending money to various bail funds and rent relief to people and organizations near and far. There is a responsibility to being an observer. It is not some callous task. Being an effective observer means allowing your subject the space they need to be as they are and not foisting your own nonsense onto them.

In Joe Pera’s America, it’s understood that everyone is weird. By virtue of being human, we are all weird, off, we do confusing things, and say dumb stuff that doesn’t make sense. Even you’re a weird freak. John Wilson’s subjects seem like circus animals, squeezed in front of the camera for their fucked-up little flip. I can’t shake the feeling that John Wilson is making fun of the people he’s observing. Pera’s observations are rooted in the fairness that comes from seeing humanity in people-- every person has an equal chance of surprising you with how weird they are if you just make them comfortable and let them talk. We owe that to each other.

To be fair, these shows are also very different. Wilson’s found-footage, documentary style is ingenious, hilarious, and completely not the vibe that Pera and Co. are going for at all. And region here is everything. Wacky stuff happening in NYC? Eh, isn’t that par for the course over there? Wait, a show set in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula? Ok...now that I’ve never seen.

Obviously I was wrong about Isaac in Marquette, just as any broad assumption about a region and its people will be. I actually learned that Jews have a significant relationship to the U.P. And I found similarities between my own Jewish history, covering a similarly nebulous area of the Rust Belt/Midwest, and my U.P. cousins. Yes, home was closer than I thought, even across the length of Lake Michigan. Yes, people don’t just hate my guts. Yes, we can overcome lazy assumptions and we can even connect with people. We can make a better world. It just requires patience and listening.

Now, on to my thoughts regarding Fiona Apple’s landmark album Fetch the Bolt Cutters...

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starryburglar-archive · 6 years ago

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Jesse Info

Full name: Jesse McCree

Species: Human

Age: 37 ( verse dependant )

Sexuality: Bisexual

FC(s): Ryan Guzman

Bio: Jesse McCree, from Santa Fe, New Mexico, was born from a dysfunctional couple -- a father who called it quits and left just a few months before he was born, and a mother who became sick as the years went by and passed away when he was barely five years old. Forced to live on his own as an orphan on the streets, he tried and did everything to get something to eat, even if that meant stealing from others.

One day, however, he stopped being a lonely sassy kid from the streets. Somehow, his ability with a simple slingshot, plus the fact that he stole their wallets, caught the attention of a couple of Deadlock members. This is how he was taken in by the infamous group of troublemakers from Route 66. He wasn’t the only one, though -- Ashe, a girl around his age, also became an apprentice in Deadlock, all while having her omnic butler B.O.B. with her at all times.

With time and practice, Jesse became a reliable member of Deadlock, going up in the ranks as he grew up and became more experienced. He also changed weapons, going from an improvised slingshot to a real gun, a peacekeeper. He spent his childhood and adolescence causing chaos and stealing from others... until the day he got captured by Blackwatch, at the age of 17.

He didn’t know it was Blackwatch at first, just assumed these were people working for Overwatch, which became an official organization just a couple of years ago. He was face to face with the original Strike Commander, now the leader of Blackwatch, Gabriel Reyes. The man offered a deal to him, he could either rot in prison with the rest of the Deadlock members that were captured with him, or he could turn a new leaf and be under his wing. Jesse was fortunate to have been given a few hours to think about it, to reconsider and think about what he was doing with his life; it had... no meaning.

When Reyes returned expecting an answer, Jesse accepted his offer, betraying Deadlock permanently and taking this chance to become a better version of himself -- to become a better man.

Jesse spent the next 14 years as a member of Blackwatch and under the watch of Gabriel Reyes, who sort of became a father figure to him due to never having one when he was younger. He learned new techniques to apply in the battlefield, improved his aim and range and became a better man all around -- he’s still a sassy little shit deep inside, though. Unfortunately, when an explosion destroys Overwatch’s Swiss HQ, he had just quitted Blackwatch to become a solo vigilante at the age of 31.

Nowadays, Jesse McCree travels alone and avoids the law, as he’s considered a criminal despite that not being the case. He does his best to fight actual criminals and bring justice to the world. He even got to serve a well-deserved payback to Ashe after a nasty reunion in Route 66, from which he came out victorious and brought Echo back online. He still has some personal business to deal with before officially re-joining Overwatch, but someday he will... someday.

Note: Follows very minimal Overwatch lore and a lot of personal headcanons.

[ MAIN || INBOX || HEADCANONS || VISAGE || MUSINGS ]

-----------------------------------------------

V001: Justice Ain’t Gonna Dispense Itself

Default main verse. Takes place in the current present time of Overwatch. There isn’t much to explain here that isn’t explained above.

V002: Turning a New Leaf

Blackwatch verse. After getting captured by Gabriel Reyes, Jesse was offered a way out to avoid going to jail: betray Deadlock and become a member of Blackwatch under the eye of Commander Reyes. In the end, he accepted, seeing it as his opportunity to begin a new life and become a better man.

V003: Old Styles in Modern Times

Modern verse. To see a man in our modern era wearing a cowboy hat 24/7 is... uncommon, but hey, that’s part of his aesthetic. Jesse McCree is a man who had his man ups and lows: starting with nothing, becoming a troublemaker, then being given the chance to start over thanks to Gabriel Reyes... he has been through everything. Nowadays, however, he can be found travelling the world on his own, unaware of what really happened to Reyes 6 years ago.

-----------------------------------------------

CONNECTIONS

Mei Ling-Zhou :: [ Queen ]

:: Jesse ♥ Of gunpowder and ice cubes [ Mei ( mythosbornc ) ] ::

Genji Shimada :: [ Bae ]

:: Jesse ♥ Cowboys and ninjas [ Genji ( kindcstguardian ) ] ::

Charm :: [ Queen ]

pending tag

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tony-sloopy-blog · 7 years ago

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Songs For a Lazy Afternoon LP, 1956, Liberty Records LRP 3011, USA Rod McKuen Track List Side One: 1. Lazy Afternoon (2:33) 2. John Hardy (2:38) 3. The Birds Courting Song (1:36) 4. Puttin' On The Style (2:06) 5. With a "No" That Sounds Like "Yes" (2:12) 6. Bimini (0:35) 7. Colorado Train (2:53) Side Two: 1. Jaydee (2:10) 2. Sinner Man (3:14) 3. All Around Trinidad (4:25) 4. Happy Is a Boy Named Me (2:15) 5. Aunt Louise (0:12) 6. Follow the Drinking Gourd (2:18) Album Credits Rod McKuen Main Performer McKuen's first record. Most of these songs were written by him. Orchestra directed by Barney Kessel. Technically Songs for A Lazy Afternoon is Rod McKuen’s first album and it's very hard to come by since it was recorded just about the time Noah started building his ark. Rod McKuen did record an earlier album that wasn't widely circulated, called Lonely Summer for a small California label Bond Records. Liner notes: Rod McKuen is one of those prolific artists who, just when I think I probably own most of his albums, I suddenly find six or seven more at the Good Will in Seattle's Ballard neighbourhood —including a Christmas album! "Songs For a Lazy Afternoon" isn't one of those though, I've had this one for a while; it's one of my favorites. I never knew much about Rod McKuen, but after reading the extensive liner notes on the back of this record (included below) and his bio on Wikipedia (here), I found out that Rod McKuen ran away from home when he was 11, he's worked as a logger and as a rodeo cowboy, he starred as Romeo in a production of some famous Shakespeare play, he served in the U.S. Army, he speaks Japanese and Korean and is a Japanese movie star, he was buddies with Jacques Brel and he's considered the best-selling and most widely-read poet of all time. He can also wiggle his ears, he has bionic legs and he can fly several feet off the ground simply by flapping his arms. For a full discography and more neat photos and things, visit the official Rod McKuen website here. Songs For a Lazy Afternoon — Notes by Mike Connolly If late some evening you should drive down a deserted Hollywood street, and notice a tall boy, slightly bent over, with his shoulders pushed a little forward - walking along whistling or singing to himself, chances are it might be Rod McKuen, singing some of the songs he sings in this album. You may ask, why are songs for a lazy afternoon being sung at night? Well, the seemingly placid young man on the other side of this album jacket doesn't have many lazy afternoons anymore. At the age of 23, he is a busy and successful actor, a published author, poet and songwriter, and a folk singer who has toured throughout the United States and Asia. Rod's first professional break came along when just after his sixteenth birthday, he joined the San Francisco Young Players and appeared in their production of "Romeo and Juliet." His role as Romeo was stirring enough to win him several top acting awards and the offer of two drama scholarships. Between productions with the Young Players, Rod began a radio disc jockey show for station KROW in Oakland, California. The program, entitled "Rendezvous With Rod," ran for three and a half years, and had one of the highest ratings of any show in the San Francisco Bay Area. During this period, Rod was also author of a syndicated newspaper column, "Scribbling on my Shirtcuff." The Army intevened in 1953, however, and both "Rendezvous" and the column were terminated. Actually, it was in the service in Japan that Rod's talents suddenly burst forth. His prowess as a folk singer was well known among his friends, but it wasn't until the owners of Maxim's, famed Tokyo night club, asked him to appear there for a week-end, that Rod really developed a style of his own. The "week-end" stretched into nearly five months. During this period, the Army brass decided that Rod would also be useful to the Armed Forces as an entertainer. His first assignment in that capacity was the television show, "Pop Concert," which was shown over a Japanese network. This show was so successful that the Army sent Rod on a concert tour throughout the Orient. He gave concerts to consistently packed houses in Hong Kong, Tokyo, Seoul, Taegu, Bangkok, and dozens of other cities. When the tour ended, Rod returned to his original duties as writer-producer with the Voice of the United Nations Command in Tokyo, a program which broadcast psychological warfare to Communist-dominated countries. He was later sent to Korea to work as the Army's Civil Information expert with the Korean Civil Assistance Command in Taegu. Rod's concert tour brought him to the attention of a prominent Japanese film producer, and the Army granted him permission to appear in a number of Japanese films. One of these, "The Boy and the General," is due for release in the United States soon. Language proved no barrier in Rod's foreign film roles, for he speaks both Korean and Japanese. During his Army tour of duty, Rod took time out to write his first book, "And Autumn Came," a collection of romantic poems in free verse published in 1954. The book received unanimous critical acclaim, with one critic labelling his works "among the finest of this generation." Another book of poems and a novel are to be published this Fall, and, recently, he completed his second novel. Upon his release from the service, Rod returned to his home in Oakland. Word of his success had preceded him to the states, and he was immediately offered a singing engagement at San Francisco's Purple Onion, one of the city's most unique clubs. It was during his stay there that he was "discovered" by columnist-socialite Cobina Wright, who persuaded him to come to Hollywood. Though singing is considered his main musical talent, he has had as much success writing music as performing it. No less than eighteen of his folks tunes have been purchased by many of the nation's most popular performers and several have been recorded by major artists. Since arriving in Hollywood, Rod has written songs for several motion pictures, individually, and in collaboration with Les Baxter, Bobby Troupo, and Barney Kessel. In his first American movie, now being filmed at Universal- International, he sings two of these songs, "Picnic by the Sea," and "Happy Is a Boy Named Me." With all of his varied interests, Rod claims he hasn't much time for anything else except "maybe being lonely occasionally." If out of this loneliness some of the songs in this album were conceived, then it has been a worth-while solitude. Here is a young man with something unique to offer - a sly wit for writing happy songs, and a tenderness for the sad ones. Best of all, however, is his sincerity which makes any of the songs believable when he sings it. The selections in this album are varied. For sheer rollicking fun, listen to "Puttin' On the Style," or, "With a 'No' That Sounds Like 'Yes'"; or, "Aunt Louise," a delightful little ditty which consumes all of thirty seconds. "Sinner Man," and the Negro slave song "Follow the Drinkin' Gourd" are serious and dramatic in content. Rod's own songs "Jaydee" and "Happy Is a Boy Named Me" are both haunting and beautiful. Rod is ably assisted by Barney Kessel and Tommy Tedesco, whose sterling guitars shine throughout. Occasionally you'll find a harmonica, a drum or two and a chorus sneaking in. In the final analysis, I'm sure you'll agree...it's all pretty wonderful. * * * * * * * Mike Connolly's daily column in the Hollywood Reporter can boast an audience of almost everyone in the film industry - from star to stenographer, from grip man to stockholder. In addition many millions read his magazine articles and yet another syndicated column. Surprisingly enough, with articles and columns, and all the time he spends running around digging up information for both, he found time last year to help write the very successful book "I'll Cry Tomorrow." * * * * * * * Orchestra under the direction of Barney Kessel. SONGS FOR A LAZY AFTERNOON was recorded in Hollywood, Calif. April 12 and 26, 1956 and May 17, 1956. Producer: Simon Jackson Engineer: Val Valentin Cover Photograph: Phil Howard [ Rod McKuen ]

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bornfromscarletcords · 6 years ago

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EBON VERSE (Tentative Title)

THIS WORK IS UNFINISHED

Daniel Ranger was doing his best to live an ordinary and uneventful life, and despite his best efforts, he was met with minimal success. According to his neighbors, acquaintances, coworkers, fellow dog lovers, and the muggers who always felt the mysterious instinct not to follow him into dark alleys, he looked pretty normal. He was reasonably attractive, with dark hair, dark skin, and a muscular physique. His eyes were a little strange, as they were a very light brown, honey colored, and when it was dark or when the light shined on them they almost looked gold. From the way he moved, many thought he might have been a soldier. From the way he could disappear almost without a trace, many thought he was a superhero...or an assassin. However, from they way he talked many people found their presumptions about him fading away. “He was so polite, so charming, someone like that couldn’t hurt a fly”, was more or less their general consensus. To say that Daniel was putting on an act wouldn’t be entirely fair as he honestly didn’t want to cause too much trouble, as trouble could attract attention from unsavory forces he’d rather avoid. With that said, it still might have been a stretch to say he honestly cared about how “so and so’s” aunt Bernice was doing in her retirement home across the country.

Daniel had experienced a lot of...stress in his former life, and so one day he decided that he would leave these hardships behind and start over. He said goodbye to his people and the place he had known as home in order to find another one. He kept a few trinkets to remember them by but most of those things were locked in a storage compartment, though he did carry a necklace that his matron had given to him. He rarely took it off but this might have been more unconscious as he seldom thought about it and when people brought it up he said as few words about it as possible.

It wasn’t exactly Daniel’s fault he was experiencing so little success in his endeavors. When he first arrived in this region he had done well in finding a modest apartment, a job at a local bookstore, and establishing himself as an average joe just looking to skate by. The problems arose when, despite his intentions, others wished to pry and poke at his masquerade. It was usually because they wanted something from him, or needed a new form of entertainment. He didn’t always like it but he had learned enough about bureaucracy to pleasantly misdirect the more susceptible busy-bodies. The stubborn and aware, however, he often had to scare away with talents he had hoped he wouldn’t have to use. Worse still, were the ones who wouldn’t be scared off. These folk had the audacity of asking him to lunch, or sharing heartfelt/life changing moments with him. How dare they form a true connection with him.

Anyway these devious schemers who he couldn’t seem to shake often, intentionally or unintentionally, involved him in tasks and events which painstakingly involved him using talents from his former existence. As much as he would have liked these tasks to have had a clean end, every time he thought they were over they’d just crawl their way back with some new variation to them, like the flu or brunch.

One the main contributors to the absence of normality in his life was Sarina Miyamoto. She was a young woman of Japanese heritage, and Daniel had met her five years before the main events of this story when she was just graduating high school. This should have been a purely uneventful time of celebration for her, but it seemed the fate’s desired more peculiar circumstances. Sarina discovered that she was a part of an extra-dimensional clan of fox creatures, who wished her to rejoin them as one of their priestesses. Sarina had been looking for some excitement in her life, but that was a bit much, so one thing led to another and she ended up enlisting the help of Mr. Ranger. Why she had done this may have just been another one of the fate’s jests, but she explained to him that he seemed to be shrouded in mystery, like he had seen so many strange things that he could face just about anything. Daniel didn’t want to get involved, in fact this was just the type of thing he wanted to avoid the most, but Sarina reminded him too much of friends he’d left behind and the people he had once sworn to protect. The following events were about as far from normal as things could get. The fox clan tested Daniel and eventually found him worthy enough of guiding Sarina (well, their phrasing went something like “the Ookami will lead her”) until she decided to seek them out on her own. Daniel was not happy that they seemed to imply she was now his responsibility, but playing along was one of the few ways that event would end without a lot of dead bodies/aN inter-dimensional disaster.

Daniel found Sarina to be witty, generally skilled, and well humored. He didn’t like admitting it but he enjoyed her company even when she insisted that she was his sidekick (as she grew older exchanged this monicker for “super-partner”). She had once persuaded him to discuss a little about his past where he made the snafu of revealing that he “had been charged with serving and upholding justice” amongst his people. Well Sarina was thinking about what she should focus her studies on and this statement of his implied, to her, that she should pursue a career in law. So Daniel led her down the path of a being an upstanding citizen, you say, that’s not so terrible. Except for the fact that Sarina was mischievous by nature, and liked to convince Daniel into helping her study during his free time, that was when she wasn’t bending every rule or finding every loophole she could so that she could point out how flimsy the law actually was. Daniel didn’t mind her rebelliousness, he actually admired her tenacity and thoughtfulness, he just couldn’t help but feel as if the world might have been a little safer if he had just said he “used to cook pies”.

Another contributor to his lack of a blissfully forgetful existence was Eydis. One night, Daniel had the misfortune of seeing a large group of men following a lone woman. Daniel didn’t like giving into assumptions, as they could so often be cliche, but something inside of him felt the need to make sure things didn’t get out of hand. He stuck to the shadows, a short distance off. When he saw them beginning to draw many unsavory items he moved to intervene but, as things turned out, his efforts were not needed. The woman screamed, but the men soon joined her. Blood sprayed and poured in a fevered dance of carnage. Limbs were torn, thrown, throats were opened, bellies spilt, and all in a matter of seconds. When the cause of the slaughter finally slowed down long enough for Daniel to get a good look at them, he was intrigued but not exactly pleased. She had long blonde hair braided down her back, on this night. Her skin was like moonlight, almost translucent. She was dressed like she ran a biker gang in her spare time: a brown leather jacket, a black shirt which had a flaming, dancing, skeleton on it, simple jeans, and cowboy...well, cowgirl boots on (without the spurs). At that moment her eyes were burning an angry bloody color but Daniel tried not to look into them. He would come to know that in her less frenzied state they were a soothing blue color. However on this night, he was more concerned with what she was going to do with the terrified, yet unharmed woman, and himself. The biker-lady stalked towards the woman like a lioness to her cub. She tenderly stroked her hair and lifted her chin so that they were staring each other in the eyes. After a moment the woman calmed down and began walking away. Then all that remained on that nigh abandoned street were Daniel, still in the shadows, the biker-lady, and many mutilated corpses.

“I know you’re here fenris, no need to stand on ceremony.” The biker-lady said gazing in his direction. Daniel stepped a little closer into view.

“You let the woman go? Why?” Daniel said.

“Well it would hardly be a rescue if I had killed her.” The biker woman said, grinning slightly. She had a comely face, and as menacing as fangs could be, her flash of pale bone was not displeasing.

“You know her?” Daniel said.

“Yes, she is a,” She seemed to be struggling for the word, “a friend. Which gives me a reason to be here, but why were you going to put yourself at risk to help a stranger?”

“Old habit, and it would hardly have been a risk. A friend you say?” Daniel said.

“Ah, you doubt my kind could form such a connection?” The biker-lady said.

“I have my doubts about everything, so I’ll save my prejudices for another night. Will she remember what took place here?”

“Doubtful. Maybe she’ll think she had a bad dream or something. I’m not as good as some, but bending minds is not outside of my capabilities.” She said.

“What do you plan to do with the bodies?” he said.

“I called someone beforehand, they should be here soon.” She said.

“I’m not interrupting your midnight snack am I?” Daniel said. At that the biker-lady licked some blood off of her palm. In that moment another image superimposed itself over her, at least in Daniel’s mind. She looked like a nordic warrior, armed with a spear and covered in furs and metal. The image faded almost as soon as it came but it’s remnants would always stay with him.

“Nah, losers taste like mud.” She said kicking one of the bodies, it traveled a couple of feet.

“If that is all, then I should probably be on my way, before your ‘someone’ arrives.” Daniel said turning too leave.

“I would like a name fenris. I was almost indebted to you.”

“I’m not sure if it is healthy for us to mingle.” He said.

“In a polluted region breathing isn’t healthy, yet people do it anyway.” She said. Daniel shrugged and gave her his, in turn she gave him hers. She was Eydis.

This would not be the last night Daniel spent with Eydis, much to his chagrin. To be clear, she was usually only terrible to her enemies, yet it was very clear she was on unfamiliar ground when it came to getting along with Mr. Ranger. Around a week after their first meeting, Daniel realized that he was being followed, which caused him to take many out of the way routes before losing his pursuer and dashing home. This went on for a couple of evenings until he finally confronted the person who had been tailing him. In his mind it could have been anyone, but lo and behold, when he finally used his nose, he noticed a familiar scent. Daniel was pretty annoyed when he discovered what Eydis had been up to. Her reasoning had been, that she wanted to know why he lived such an unusual life. He told her that although it might seem boring it was very fulfilling in a subdued way. He told her to stop following him, and she left. A couple of nights later, she knocks on the door to his house. He had tried to be careful but apparently she had been more determined than she let on. He was going to be mad at her until she asked him for help. She explained that she had created the the vampire who had claim over the local territories (at least for as far as the vampires were concerned), which meant they were close or at least had a lot of history between them. However she refused to officially join his hold, preferring instead to live (well un-live) a life of relative freedom. It was the cause of some strife in their relationship, but she suspected the real reason he was upset about it was more political. He couldn’t or wouldn’t claim her as an asset if she wouldn’t yield to his rule, and as a powerful child of the night she was a very desirable prize. She had heard that a couple of vampires from another hold were in town looking for her. It was under the ruse of some all but ancient feud, but when the local ruler refused to assist her unless she joined his cause she came to the conclusion he must have played some part in the matter. Potentially to push her into his, metaphorical, grasp.

Daniel wanted to shut the door right then and there, but he came to the conclusion that somehow this nonsense would spill over to involve him one way or another and that he might as well get ahead of it. He offered his assistance. Eydis further explained that the rival vampires were beginning to target some of her allies unaffiliated with the hold or another equally substantial (known) force. Basically they were picking on those who couldn’t defend themselves. Daniel’s feathers were suitably ruffled at this and in the course of that week Eydis and he executed numerous vampires and prevented nearly as many “innocent” deaths. Near the end of their campaign however, Eydis was severely wounded. She needed blood, potent blood, and in their isolated locale there was little of that to go around. So, even though she warned him that exchanging blood might bond him to her (she might become his “master”) they did so anyway. With her life (un-life) saved they congratulated themselves on a job well done, and decided they wouldn’t be strangers to one another. A couple of nights later they found out that they might not have much choice in the matter. Eydis approached him stating that she had felt a type of fuzzy something leading to him, in her mind. She tried to “tug” on it to see if she really did have dominion over him but she felt like she had been moved instead. Then she asked him to give her an order, and although he was confused he told her to clean his book shelf. Her expression sort of glossed over for a second and she moved a couple of inches, but then she regained her composure. Apparently somehow the bond had gotten reversed, and he had become her “master”. Daniel was not comfortable with the idea of slavery, it was full of too much temptation and heartache. He expressed his concerns to her and she said “I’ll admit this is surprising, and though I’ve heard of something like this occurring it is very rare. Still I have a decent knowledge of these bonds, and I am a willful creature in my own right so as long as you don’t abuse it we should be fine.” What she didn’t say was that she would nonchalantly call him Master, or Milord as if it was only to be expected or that she would grow fond of the bond because it meant he wouldn’t just be able to up and leave without telling her. Something she suspected he might do if he got tired of her company. In all fairness, Daniel didn’t tell her that he had a likely suspect for what had caused the bonds reversal. It was that strange necklace which was almost always with him.

Then there was the dragon. A couple of wildfires had been flaring up in the surrounding forest, which was something of great concern for the local populace. It was Sarina who convinced Daniel to investigate. Her wording went something like “How can you pretend to be normal if everyone you want to fool is burnt to a crisp.” She then sweetened the deal by adding “And if it really is just a couple of natural phenomenon then I will buy you ice cream.” Daniel liked ice cream, it was so icy and creamy. So Daniel and his partner in crime solving went out to check the territory surrounding the fires. It was Sarina who had found the portal. She noticed a haziness in the air, when too much heat is present, except this haziness seemed to form a symbol. When Sarina reached out to touch it, Daniel reached to pull her back but it was too late. They both went tumbling through into the dragon’s den. When they saw the giant of a creature they felt the need to quote various films about what happens when people bring dinosaurs back to life. They would have acted on this need but they seemed to have lost the ability speak in the presence of those great jaws, wicked claws, gargantuan wings and serpent like tail. It was a beautiful creature, in a horrifying way. They understood why people might hunt, revere and flee from such a great beast. Their attention was so focused on the creature and its scarlet scales that when they took a look around they were even more surprised. The idea of a dragon’s den, in their minds implied a desolate and dangerous cavern littered with jewels. Well there was treasure but instead of being littered on the ground it adorned the walls and furniture or was tightly packed in chests. The desolate cave looked more like a hidden palace, albeit from medieval times, but it was still impressive and smacked of prestige and great wealth. The color scheme was various shades of red orange, violet and black, and after awhile Daniel couldn’t help but associate the images and colors with that of outer space. It was like walking in the void, stunning and haunting all at the same time. Then the dragon spoke.

“Intruders, snacks, champions? What are you and by what right do you enter my domain?” The dragon said. The voice sounded female, divine, and bestial all at the same time. Sarina and Daniel exchanged a glance.

“We’ll go with the option that doesn’t get us eaten or killed.” Sarina said.

“What my friend here is trying to say is that we mean you no harm nor any disrespect. We entered here by accident, and if you allow it we will leave without incident.” Daniel said.

“Hmmm, you don’t seem to be lying, but even if I wanted you to go I couldn’t allow you to.” The dragon said shifting around as if she were uncomfortable, it reminded Sarina of dogs circling their resting area for a better spot.

“What do you mean, this domain is under your command is it not?” Daniel said.

“Are you mocking me?” The dragon said a small jet of flame spewing from her mouth as smoke rose from her nostrils.

“Of course not, he’s just wants to understand the situation better, it’s not everyday we meet a creature as awesome and magnificent as yourself.” Sarina said. The dragon seemed pleased and preened herself.

“Well, I am fairly impressive aren’t I?” She said.

“You’re extraordinary.” Daniel said.

“To answer your question, this domain is an extension of my will, my mind, my heart and soul. It shares that trait with most of my powers. I have influence with it but I could no sooner control it than I could control my own emotions. I feel what I feel, and this domain does what it pleases for the most part.” The dragon said.

“So, it’s alive?” Daniel said.

“It has intentions, whether that makes it alive is a can of worms I don’t feel like opening. I’m more interested in why it showed its door to you.”

“Perhaps because it knew we were here to help. The fires are endangering the town and the wildlife. If we can do anything to stop them then we will.” Sarina said. Daniel gave her a look like he didn’t like her volunteering their services to large and dangerous magical creatures.

“As I said, my powers are not completely under my control. Many dragons prefer to fly powerfully and free so to speak, so we are not entirely well versed when it comes to restraining ourselves. I have a wound inside, it causes me great distress and I fear it has made my abilities more volatile than usual. I thought locking myself away here might limit the damage but it seems it did not work as well as I might have hoped.” The dragon said.

“I know the feeling. When I first came to this land I tried to suppress a part of myself; put it to sleep while I was awake. It seemed to work, but whenever I was asleep it would have its day. Finally after waking up, naked, in the woods, surrounded by half eaten woodland creatures I realized whatever I was doing wasn’t working.” Daniel said.

“What did you do?” The dragon said.

“I had to face myself. Choosing another way of life is one thing but rejecting who you are inside is another. As soon as I realized that we were able to get along just fine again. It was hard, but so are a lot of things.”

“We?” The dragon said, then its amber eyes flashed brightly. “Oh, I see, I hadn’t noticed at first. You are varg.” She said.

“I don’t mean to interrupt but do you need us to find you a doctor or something?” Sarina said.

“No the wound is not physical, it is a wound of the heart and soul.”

“They can be the most painful and the most deadly.” Daniel said.

“How can we help?” Sarina said.

“I require a Champion, someone I can bestow my flame upon who will not be destroyed by it in turn. It must be a person of honor, great virtue, and or one of righteous authority. My flame would erase most others.

“Well, you heard the dragon, you’re up Sarina.” Daniel said patting her on the back.

“What, why me?” Sarina said.

“You’re interested in studying law right?” Daniel said.

“Yeah eventually, but if I’m being honest, I’m a little too cynical of the whole institution to risk getting barbecued. You actually used to be a justice, or whatever, for a living you totally got this.” Sarina said, pushing him forward.

“You’re forgetting to mention the fact that I left that life behind and currently spend my time misleading humans into thinking I’m just an average book salesman.” Daniel said.

“Glad to see you’re both so eager.” The dragon said, the sarcasm all but permeating the air. “If you can’t decide, then I will, I choose the varg. Little vixen, you have much potential and even now greatness shines from you but at the moment he is the most powerful which I think means he is most likely to survive the process.” The dragon said.

“Well, straight from the dragon’s mouth. You heard her Daniel, your power dwarfs mine,” Sarina said.

“If I survive you’re buying me ice cream later. Actually scratch that, even if I don’t buy one for my ghost.” Daniel grumbled as he prowled over to the dragon.

“Fair enough, that’s why I like you oh eminent one.” Sarina said.

“What do I need to do?” Daniel said.

“Over in that corner you’ll find a chair as well as…. well you’ll know it when you see it. It will take the shape of an instrument of some sort, but if you let your soul speak to it, it will fashion itself in the form of your choosing.”

“Interesting. Then what.”

“You come back here and play.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, the idea is that the music will serve as a bridge of sorts through which our souls can connect. My soul is fire so you will be enveloped in flame. If your soul is weak or...nevermind, just dig deep and play from your truth. The instrument works from your deeper emotions and intentions so even if you had no experience it would probably still sing. I guess the ritual is supposed to symbolize me relying on someone else. Dragons with power can become too proud to ask for help. Anyway by allowing another to feel me, I can finally feel my own truth. The wound will heal, or at least become healthier.” The Dragon said. Daniel went to get the tools at first he was holding a violin but when he sat down it turned into a guitar.

“I think it would help if I knew your name and you mine. Something we can connect to. I go by Daniel Ranger in these parts.” Daniel said after strumming a couple of notes on the guitar. It sounded like the instrument it was supposed to be but there were also other notes in there as if there were a whole ensemble hidden in the room. An orchestra of phantoms.

“Well I’ve had many names.” The dragon said.

“Anyone will do.” Daniel said.

“Some come from very dangerous languages.” The dragon said.

“That’s okay, you could even make one up, we wouldn’t know.” Sarina said as she hunkered down behind a large couch.

“Okay, I think I have one that will work, Seren Malak Mishal. Ren for short, if that works for you.” Ren said, and Daniel began to play. The decor, illustrations, and even the air within the palace began to dance and hum. From behind cover Sarina whistled along as she wondered if the whole universe was moving to the tune. There was still the sound like many were playing through one, and yet it was clear that Daniel was steering the course; the song howled and loped in a way that was entirely his own. Then Ren began to sing along as well. It was a sound of ferocity, wildness, and miracles; of a fire that could create or end the world. The harmony made the two glow and Ren’s form seemed to shift into pure light and flame. Her blaze engulfed Daniel but his verse filled her. She tilted her head back as if baying to the full moon. Magic and radiant color flashed through the room, the music died down, and where a dragon once stood there was a woman. She had hair like molten rubies; it curled and flowed as it pleased down her back. At first she was naked, and then she looked somewhat demonic in armor of bones and black scales which seemed to be attached to her. Horns sprouted from her head as draconic wings beat once, twice, three times before she changed again, looking something like a great, and human, woman. She wore a long dress which could have made been worn by a queen or a mystic of countless mysteries.

“Your soul is a perplexing one Daniel Varg. In it is a great pride, almost like the dark ones who challenged heaven above, or perhaps that of the creature which cast them down. There is a hunger which tries to feast on the many sorrows which surround it but in these things it finds no sustenance. Hollow glories litter your thoughts, and with each reflection they fade even more, and yet your spirit keeps reaching, keeps clawing forward. You will hunt the place you truly belong until the end of days and maybe even beyond. And should peace and fate fail you, you would kill your way to the garden of your choosing, stalking forward on a road made of corpses. You carry the hopes of many, and in trying to balance them you tilt the axis of the world. Within your claws is the heart of truth. Your vision may be the first and last judge to all it visits. Look well and deeply.” Ren said.

“I’m just a book salesmen.” Daniel said, and at first Ren looked confused but then she laughed a great and beautiful sound which filled the room, as if made by something far larger.

Daniel was exhausted after playing and Sarina had to help him move. Ren was able to send them through the portal back to their land, which was a good sign. Before she did however she said they were always welcome, especially her Champion. That night Daniel had some of the best sleep he’d ever experienced, but he woke a little here or there and when he did he could have sworn his muzzle was buried in hair like a crimson sun, as clawed fingers clutched at welcoming flesh. Perhaps he’d been dreaming.

Now of course Daniel had met with other people and entertained other adventures throughout the duration of his self imposed exile, however the point where the main events of this story should unfurl has arrived. Don’t worry, his past and his other relationships will be explored as well. Enjoy the tantalizing occurrences which ceaselessly thwart his attempts at a simple life. They were cultivated from many branches of thought to garden this peculiar plot.

#Warg Dragon Foxes Night Exile Justice

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forrestleifwoods · 7 years ago

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Jessica Malone with Giorgi Khokhobashvili

Cante Ao Vinho 5250 Front Street, Rocklin, Cal. 95677 Friday, May 18, 2018

With a smile, bangs hanging attractively over her eyes, and guitar in hand, Jessica, and accompanist Giorgi (violin) -- both happily playing acoustic -- ease into the gentle lilt of "Gold Flowers of the West", rock wall appropriate to this quarry town as fitting backdrop, a mystery of the wine bar’s interior configurations balancing the acoustics to fine effect. The song, casually fading in the middle over rhythm guitar, is a brand new one inspired by how much Jessica misses California when she’s away; a line from which, 'My voice was meant for singing', accurately sets the tone for the performance. It is; she was.

Another new one, “Lonesome in Montana”, written for her mom, shows her strong vocal midrange. The evening's drink of choice, ‘Vinho Doce Dessert Wine’, a white port at a reasonable $8, is confidently well-fettled, itself, and so good, I couldn't put it down, even made it seem there was an extra verse to the song. Giorgi whips off a short solo, sharp and melodically mindful, and just at the upper bound of ideally loud. The people at the soundboard have everything dialed.

Dreamily languorous arpeggios alternating with complementary single notes open their third number, an exceptional piece of wistful melancholia that Jessica’s recorded twice, in two effectively differentiable mixes. The song proceeds, as many of hers do, like a laid back summer day out in the country; and later, during the bridge, Giorgi fills the role a drummer handles in some of their live shows: with his right hand he taps his bow on the violin's body, and with his left, gives the upper neck a four-fingered tap, all in a timed-tandem. I'd always heard it was a versatile instrument. She tilts her guitar, calling thus to the muses of the backcountry highways, and follows through with a decisive chord, bringing in Giorgi's violin solo of poetically aerial tones harvested from the Steinhardt strata; and he finishes off “A Fine Line” with a tranquil downbow.

Strong guitar chords begin the uptempo of the next number, as the violin seconds her into a song closely akin to The Beatles' "I've Just Seen A Face"; and if so, it's worth noting that McCartney, the songwriter, felt it rather country-western, making its rendition, here, that much closer to a match; fitting, too the performer's repertoire of well-disposed songs, romantic introspections of life that have all the relevance that bands posturing with dated credos never do.

Imperative chords, building to further solidity, soon adds the violin into another new song. There’s a total assuredness, and certainty, in her playing; and this she accentuates expressively, joyously; while Giorgi, in one of many stringed idioms, slots in an early, short solo. “Summer Weather” is my favorite of the set so far, a minor-keyed folk blaster with a muted violin wah wah solo; and if your eyes wander to the floor, as eyes that are well-wined might, you'll see a bank of at least six pedals in front of said musician -- or more; there were a lot. A weaving violin solo over downplayed guitar ends the number.

Next up is “Angel of Montgomery”, a Prine classic burnished to lustrousness. I can forgive the annoyance of an occasional cover when it’s a track heard so infrequently; and more, that the performer plays it deftly into their performance, as she does, here; and to even better effect, being from the viewpoint, a woman's, for which it was written. Meanwhile, Giorgi takes a polite background to Jessica’s voice, the latter of whom fittingly hits the guttural on key words, as “cowboy”. A fiddly violin solo appears late in as three more people arrive, give attentive ear; and no one leaves.

Picking up a ukulele for the next song, and, striking some crisp strings, Jessica leaves just enough room for the violin to easily glide into “Wake Up With The Sun”, the track that opens her second CD release. Her expressiveness adds to her art, wraps the audient in the song’s presence; the duo now playing to a reasonably full house, all but one table occupied. Facing Giorgi during an extended violin solo, she's on it with her ukelele, matches him; and calls it, another in a succession of songs well-pedigreed from the hinterland of country-folk.

Before their eighth, Jessica relates her earlier life in northern Cal, with her dad as roadie, a good tale. High-treble uke chords, sharp, even staccato, open “Best Love”, a slow and methodic piece, working into a passage of lone ukulele, the violin subtilized into a faraway background until we hit the anthemic chorus, the centerpiece of whose yarn she spins out as, “I'm blazing trails with my baby, Some people might think we're crazy”. When the lyric calls for it, her voice is once again throaty, and she employs it to optimal effect. A violin solo rounds it out, the whole song characterized by well-spaced four-stringed chords, sharp and in full-color contrast, wrapping up their first set. If I had a quibble from the show, and it’d be the only one, it’s that the chorus is a tad repetitive, could perhaps use an added couplet of rhymes to spur the intrigue; but it could also well be said that the song’s very particularity of character compensates.

A break followed; and as I resistantly fixed to make my unwished-for departure, it appeared that, of the audience, at least half were staying for the second part of the performance. To this she warmed up with what, I think I may safely say, is in typical Jessica fashion, galloping confidently into the piece, minor key in hand, opening the door to a winning progression of scales on this second set opener, singing, "...this love's on fire...", as Giorgi returns to take his place on stage for an obliquely darksome tune of a positively rocked Americana.

A gentle hum remained with me for hours afterward: the wafture from that stemmed glass; the rapture of Jessica’s songs. Looking at the numbers on her event page for the night, either everyone showed up, or found replacements to save face, a rarity for most performances where 'interested' somehow equates to 'going'. Call it a higher quality following: All but one person in the venue were wrapt or otherwise attentive during the show. Looking for more, to follow up on my post-concert exposure, from her web repertory she offers at least one tune I’d denote pure country (which I credit with the twang of steel I'd misremembered, as I found when returning to the song several days later), and easily a few that favor the folk idiom; but in the main, the body of her work strikes me as roping in both of these, the live experience then amplifying them into a rock-and-rolled lark, easily defining a genre -- if only a few thousand know it so far. Jessica’s spirited command of her instruments, including – especially – her measured voice, bright, and articulately projected, sees her casually flinging her songs out, so that you receive, with smiles, the joie de vivre her words imply. The old west mule-paced lilt of select phrasing on the ukulele pulls you right into her world of a happy past; and this she passes on to those present. She’s published two studio CDs (see JessicaMaloneMusic.com) all of whose tunes you can spot, in addition to some others on Soundcloud and Youtube. Even the high art-folk of Joni’s strings -- guitar and piano -- were never this emphatically unambiguous; and her recordings not only set the standard, but the bar, for well-defined notation from ‘68-75, over and above the (adjectivally speaking) less accentuate Judy, Judee, Judith, Julie, Jackie, Janis, Joan, and... -- oh wait, Jolene was a song -- these by way of epochal instance. I tend to think that if Jessica's catalog took a trip on the wayback machine, it'd find itself as a reasonably apt companion piece to Cheryl Dilcher's Special Songs (1970).

Jessica's estimable recorded body of music reflects much of what I’ve cited here; but it's the live experience (I'll say it again) that is, conspicuously, that much more riveting, the contrasts, shadings, and dynamism of every chord paired with and against every individual note; and more remarkably, if possible, the smooth quality and control of her softly resonant voice, mistily opaque, expressing a wider dynamic range, far beyond the scope of what others of her stamp, plying her genre (or any other) are generally capable of; that said with no exaggeration. Timbrally, the twanged accent requisite of country singers is absent, barring a lone syllable or two. Unexpectedly, an occasional bluesy edge to her voice erupts, often melding into a dash of the sultry; then held, just, in check. It’s the way she flings it out. From edged kinetics with swing, to the pastorale, and no pretensions, she lets her hair down and keeps it there; artful songs of the heart seen through a window on the West, old and new, of languid evenings under the empyrean when the heart pines for the wide open spaces and skies; music of the open roads; and dusty, footloose, and freeborn, she alloys the not-inconsonant remembrance of faraway melancholy and secret triumph within her sound, which, at the end of the day is ever-optimistic, the cheer of a pot of gold at the end of each painted number. The heart, solitary and otherwise, always overcomes.

Songs of patient longings, straddling the wistful and the pensive, her voice ranges wide; and, into the warp and weft of her material, there’s even a piece of medieval literary history that fits, satin glovelike, into the theme of her work. Singing, too, of leisure days in the country and hearts fraught, but sanguine, these cancoes, bountifully personalized, lay out a banquet of character, markedly distinct from the lazy, lo-fi, one-chord, atonal folkie strum carried, when at all, by dragging, off-key monotone vocals mouthing naive lyrics; whose old-hat minimalisms are fobbed off by gushing fans, as the new, fashionably underground, thing; the amateur decompositional substance of whose fluff is, to a varying extent, fulfilled by the latter-day likes of Berryhill and Difranco; by early Kahn and Jewel; and into whose puddle, to Jessica’s credit, she seems in no immediate hurry to step. ~ And I’ll be the one to break it: only a mass pharmacopic delusion gives the Fateful Meds any remote semblance, beyond that of a glorified jugband, of actual musicianship, there being a point where lack of sophistication crosses the line from 'homespun charm' to 'unburdened by talent'. In marked, and classy, distinction, what we’ve got here is the blithesome antithesis: Jessica keeps the ‘art’ in artist.

______________ The venue, a partner of the Placer Wine Trail, is pronounced 'Cahntay Ah Veenyo', and translates to 'sing to the wine'; though there's no question but that the wine was singing to me. The helpful service from the lady behind the counter was exceptional; and I cannot more highly recommend the rich nectar of their Vinho Doce Dessert Wine. While hoping for the return of their riesling, and Sweet Dreams Dessert Wine, their red berry sangria, beckons, as does the apple caramel (which, sneakily, looks like a white wine). Cante Ao Vinho is located, picturesquely, across from both an historic chapel (of 1883 vintage), and a small grapevine-enwreathed orchard. adding to the local color, all on a side street just off Rocklin Road, and far enough from the thoroughfare to lend a sufficient sense of a quiet country air within the city, providing you with peaceful potations, ao ar livre, on their front porch. Their tasting hours are Friday-Sunday 11-5; the wine bar's open Wednesday and Thursday 4-8, Friday and Saturday 5-9; with live music on many, if not most, Friday and Saturday evenings, 7-9: Do check their calendar: CanteAoVinho.com/events/, as Jessica Malone is scheduled to make another stopover, soon.

-Forrest Woods

Source: Smaug Thought

#Violin #Ukulele #Ukelele #The Waiting Hours #Sacramento Live Music #Rocklin #Music #Miles Left to Walk #JessicaMaloneMusic #Jessica Malone #Giorgi Khokhobashvili #Folk #Entertainment #Country Folk #Cante Ao Vinho #Americana #Acoustic Guitar #Posted by The Stygian Heresy in Concert Reviews

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