#Piano Vortex

[jazzdailyblog]

Matthew Shipp: Redefining Jazz's Boundaries

Introduction: Few musicians have shaped contemporary jazz’s avant-garde landscape as profoundly as Matthew Shipp. As a pianist, composer, and visionary, Shipp has spent his career pushing the limits of jazz’s structure and redefining the genre’s possibilities. From his explorations of free improvisation to his grounding in jazz’s rich traditions, Shipp’s body of work is as diverse as it is…

[forgetmenomore]

Eventually, I only managed to play 20 seconds of "Vortex" on my piano. The wall and my head are now injured. Ik I didn't play it completely properly (shhhh), but hey at least I played the song Cheng Xiaoshi drowned to

Also ik that isn't the most entertaining so here's a little smth:

Nom nom

[newjazzthings]

CHICK COREA / TONES FOR JOAN'S BONES

[galapogos]

・。. ⠲ words for users ( ᵕ‿‿ᵕ )♡ * °

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[aheathen-conceivably]

New Orleans, 1924

“Good Morning, mi raccomando.”

Josephine bolted awake as though the words were an alarm clock. There were calls to make, men to cajole, artists to placate. The voice could only mean that she had slept in and no one had been there to wake her up. After all, it had been her and only her apartment for over four years. Four years of it smelling like the gardenia perfume she wore and the open bootleg whiskey bottles cooking in the New Orleans heat from the party the night before.

She still wasn’t used to it smelling like fresh herbs and men’s cologne drifting from the well folded shirts on her dresser…🎶

But he was there because he knew that, because from the very first moment they had seen each other nearly three years before, it was as though the rest of the world had ceased to exist. Like a chain reaction that can’t be stopped once it's begun, they had fallen at nearly light speed through the frenetic haze of after parties and illegal booze into an unexpected domesticity that was uncharacteristic of them both.

Maybe if they had known what it would become all those years later, it would have been enough to send them both running. But in that moment, there was no way either of them ever could have, and with one glance, it was too late.

Through the unceasing roar of improvised piano keys, time seemed to be demarcated only by their meetings. At first neither of them had any expectations of the other; they rotated around eachother like satellites, moving through the same circles and parties with an ease that made it feel as though life would always be that way.

Only the crowds seemed to shrink in on them when the other was there, until even the sounds of dancing heels and clinking beer bottles began to feel intimate. And no matter how many parties went by, they ended each and every one together, until eventually, the stranger next to them at daybreak was no longer a stranger.

But surrounded by humid sunshine, neither of them could have identified the moment that they went from two people driven by lust to something more; or maybe they simply didn’t want to. After all, why slow down to question something that just felt right? Maybe that would have ruined it, or maybe, once again, they would have realized that time was carrying them onward into something that neither of them was ready for.

Because as it turned out, falling in love was easier than either of them had ever expected it to be.

Maybe it was because for so long, it felt like he needed nothing more than her, and he seemed to fall into her life like something she had never even known she wanted.

Initially, there were no games and no lies, no difficulties in just how quickly he accepted how totally he had fallen into her orbit. For a while, it made her willing to do the same. Through it all, he never faltered or responded to her impulses with nervousness or trepidation like others did. She had never met anyone else who could roll from one party to the next like he could, or who was just as excited by life as she was. It was infectious - he was infectious, and whether or not she would ever realize it, the simplicity of his joy afforded her more vision than she had ever even had herself.

And all along he knew what she herself still questioned in the dead of night - she was fearless. When she was near he felt like he could live forever, or like she had included him in some conspiratorial plan that the rest of the world knew nothing about. But more than anything, she made him feel alive.

Like being sucked into a vortex, every one of his molecules seemed to contort around her when they were together. Even the way she spoke mystified him. The lights in her eyes were just as vibrant as the words coming out of her mouth. Because deep down, she believed in something better, some star that would always be just out of view, and it made him feel as though maybe he could to catch it too.

As the years passed, she began to realize why he felt different than anyone else she had ever been with - he made her feel safe. She didn’t have to search him to see how he felt; and despite everything she had been taught, he didn’t just want to use her for his own pleasure. He was gentle and kind, and every time she was around him her heart soared. Until eventually, almost tearfully, she realized that she was in love with him, and her apartment would never smell the same again. 

So after a momentary realization that his voice was no alarm clock and the lingering smells were no phantom, she didn’t fight them. Instead she smiled back at the warm look of love she had come to expect. “It’s Sunday, mi raccomando. You don’t have to worry about work today.”

She could have told him that musicians and politicians took no days off, not even in reverence for the Lord. But she didn’t want to, so she stretched out in bed and let him carry the breakfast tray to her. “No one told me this is what living in sin would be like. Breakfast every Sunday. You in whatever bits of clothing you can find.”

His eyebrows shot upward, a false look of indigence feigned on his face for the sake of her smile. “Every Sunday? That’s a big assumption that I’ll be here each and every time.”

She pushed the tray away with her foot and moved between his legs. “Won’t you then? Stay with me. Live here. I know you practically already do but will you in truth? I don’t want you to ever leave. Not when we can be like this.”

His answer came in hurried kisses and forgotten breakfasts one Sunday after another for months. Month after month surrounded by gardenia perfume and young love, the air free of the regrets and resentments that they didn’t know were waiting for them just around the bend.

But time is unstoppable. It moves like an ever-flowing river, shaping and changing the trivial lives that stand in its path. Months became years, and little by little, his unwavering presence became merely a given rather than a revelation.

All the while the world kept spinning, determined to dim the stars in her eyes that he had once brightened. As it did, she began to realize that she could climb back up on the pedestal it kept knocking her down from by simply putting him beneath her. One morning after another, until finally, the last star went out, and the fearlessness he had once admired molted into a hardened shell that he couldn’t break through no matter how many breakfasts he cooked or questions he asked. Then the coffee began to go cold not from their shared tenderness, but from the new realization that the embers of their attraction could be stoked from rage just as easily as they had once been from softness.

Because all along, what neither of them realized, was that falling in love would always be the easiest part.

Little by little, he was the one who began to feel time draining like sand in an hourglass. Because as the world fell apart around them, he realized that no matter how long his shirts had been in her room, the suffocating smell of gardenia perfume never abated. There was no place for him there - trapped in the orbit of a woman who would never let him in, doomed in a city where every respectable citizen shirked from his name.

So he took a gamble. A series of gambles, really. The first had seemed certain. The promise of The West - a place where a man could go to make himself, to reinvent his past and build a corner of the world that was his and his alone. How could he have known that the cruel dominos of history were lining up behind him?

But he had always known that the second bet was riskier. He had wagered his own heart against the house, risking it all on the hope that if he left he would be able to chase the stars in his eyes rather than forever following the ones in hers. He had gambled on the thin chance that he could run from the smell of gardenia perfume; and that maybe, just maybe, if he played his cards exactly right, then he would see her again. Except when he did, he would be the one sitting at the head of the table, his heart safe from the roulette wheel and content with the surety that she would never walk out on him again.

New Mexico, 1936

When Gio awoke, the air was drier than he expected it to be. Before he could even fully open his eyes, one name was already on the tip on his tongue. “Jo? Mi raccomando?”

But there was no answer. The door was open wide and her suitcases were gone. He knew that meant she was still on the road, or that maybe it was time for him to finally admit that she was never coming home. That's why it was better in the warm, humid air of New Orleans in 1924. So he closed his eyes and rolled over to the other side of the bed.

Because even though falling in love was the easiest part, it was also the hardest to forget.

Previous / Next

[ao3fujoshevik]

barely makes the top ten of songs from this series (for me personally), but it's really growing on me w relistens. i might just be enjoying the new villain reveals and the scooby doo mystery incorporated production on the drop lol

im still not over link click producing a full album w mvs just to feed us before the next season

[crepesuzette2023]

Before I forget: Paul live in Paris, Dec 4, 2024

At some point, there was real life and having to take care of 1001 things in order to come here, but I can't remember. The Stadium is enormous, the view clear, the sound sublime. As the venue fills, a DJ creates a set of deep cuts and remixes from Paul, Beatles, & Wings that paints a broad but incomplete mural of the man's music. On the screens, an endless building scrolls past: a castle or a tower, inhabited by all these friends and lovers—only to culminate in the birthing of two Höfner basses from—flowerbuds? Star nurseries? I don't remember. Anyway, it's appropriately lusty Gemini symbolism. Earlier, my seat neighbor @i-am-the-oyster spots an angry skull in the QR code innocently leading to Sir Paul's website. Also with us are @packyourromanticmind, @s-l-martin a little further away, @crumblingcookies down on the floor, and next to me Mr. Suzette.

Can't Buy Me Love. We're underway. It's over almost before it begins. More more more. • Junior's Farm. My God, that figure down there is really him. These delicate wrists, bright white shirt, but also — these hands on the strings? Above all, a musician. • Letting Go. Red Lights, throbbing beat, sleazy bassline thrumming. I bet this is a personal favorite of his. • Drive My Car. The thrill of singing Beep Beep M Beep Beep Yeah in sync with thousands. • Got to Get You Into My Life. Damn, his voice his soaring. • Come On to Me. What? My fiction brain supplies so many "everyone comes on Paul, and Paul returns the favor"-scenarios. • Let Me Roll It. The first taste of actual ecstasy. Paul switches to guitar. Too far below me, a sea of people is swaying and singing. He gave me loving in the palm of my hand.

Getting Better. How dare he jump from the churning vortex of Let Me Roll It into the happy, skipping optimism of...this? Of course it works, and he sings it well. • My loudest scream of the night goes to Brother Michael in Let 'Em In. This one feels like a sibling of Getting Better—that relentless, easy rhythm, stripped of Lennon's edge. • My Valentine. Elle est ici. This one's for you, Nance. Dark, old, honest love song in black and red, with the voice just this side of breaking on this love of mine. • Still behind the piano, Sir Paul feels the need to bounce on it, and does so with Nineteen Hundred and Eighty Five, no holds barred. • Since we're going insane, why fight it? Maybe I'm Amazed, absolutely a highlight so far—the piano, the shredding guitar. The screams and falsettos.

And then he's suddenly standing in front of the stage singing I've Just Seen A Face. Infuriating. • In Spite of All the Danger. This holds up, lifting the entire stadium with its gentle melody—until it's time to lose it when Paul plays George's guitar solo. McCartney—Harrison. • Love Me Do. George Martin name drop! No more audition nerves; this is a now a singalong tune. Excellent harmonica playing by Wix Wickens. • Michelle. In Paris! Makes me think of Ivan Vaughan's wife, who helped with the French. So much history in this room, in this work. The I Love You's are for everyone present. • Dance Tonight. That's right, get up and shake it! Palate cleanser.

Blackbird. I know: a forever song. The simplicity of him with a guitar. His hands. This is still that body. • Here Today. His voice is more firm singing this than it was in the past, not as close to tears—but if anything, it makes the line I Love You even better: strong, sure. Let's hear it for John. (Applause.) (Demanding gaze.) (More, louder applause.) That's right. • Now And Then. I miss John's voice. The vibes of this song are: It was beautiful, now it's over. Oof. Thank you, John, for giving us the beautiful song.

Enough of this. Sir Paul escapes behind the colorful piano. Lady Madonna time! • And right into Jet. Why not? A bit jarring, but hey. Triumphant fucking song, and just what we need now. • Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite! At this point you're just fucking with us, Paul, and we let you. Disturbing to discover the lyrics to this song reside in the same brain that seems to be incapable of remembering actually crucial information with real life consequences. • Something. And like that, the heart is pierced again. It's just Paul and the ukulele at first, and thousands of voices singing for George. The man was loved. And the song is genius.

Me, before the concert: I could do without Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da. Me, during the song: goes nuts. • Band on the Run is a cool song, and it makes you feel good inside. It's time we all admit this. • Ram it home Paul, we want it: Get Back. What a song to play live. Gift of the gods.

Another change of pace as Paul sings Let It Be, surrounded by glowing wish balloons and the stars of the audience phone lights. Incredibly gorgeous and cathartic. My mother's second name was Mary and she died much too young; don't expect me to be normal about this song. • Live and Let Die. Okay then. Time to just surrender to the insanity of it all. I had *heard* of the fire show, seen it on small screens. I am not prepared. Not to mention the musical...orgy. • Hey Jude. This is my chance to come down a bit. What a peaceful melody. And then he screams and hollers during the ad lib section like the One Hand Clapping sprite he is...!

Encore: I've Got A Feeling. Paul and John sound crisp together. John looks so, so beautiful. Also, Paul still has the energy to almost scream in tune at this point. • Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band Reprise. Nooo, don't go! Also, Sgt. MF Pepper's exists because of this man and his bandmates. And it's just one song of the encore. Have to make choices, right. • Time to pull all the stops, and there's so much left. Helter Skelter. No, we will not take it down a notch. • Golden Slumbers. Damn you, Paul. • Carry That Weight. The first signs of the voice possibly being done for the night, but who cares when everyone sings along? • The End. The guitar solos! All this man wants to do is make music, either alone or in a good band. Both are fine with him, really.

When he's done, he's pretending to be humbled by the applause while actually soaking it up, and leaves the stage with a spring in his step, waving coquettishly at the camera that follows him for a bit. Is he kissing the camera? I forget. I think I remember the end. We see it all on the big screens: that lithe, white-haired figure, weaving past others until he's truly gone. Touch Me. Not a chance.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM SHREK THE THIRD *  assorted dialogue from the 2007 film, adjust as necessary

let's just say some things are better left unsaid.

if there's something you want to do, or someone you really want to be, then the only one standing in your way... is you.

well, my stomach's aching and my palms just got sweaty. must be a high school.

it wouldn't be inaccurate to assume that i couldn't exactly not say that it is or isn't almost partially incorrect.

so you do know where he is!

all right people, let's do this thing!

i thought we agreed we'd go by the name "team super cool."

from henceforth, we're all to be known as "team alpha super awesome cool dynamite wolf squadron."

right! assume the position!

what are you doing?

i can't believe i'm going to be a father.

how did this happen?

allow me to explain.

when a man falls in love with a woman, he is overcome with powerful urges...

how can you be a receiver of the wedgies when you are clearly not a wearer of the underpants?

somebody help! i've been kidnapped by a monster who's trying to relate to me!

greetings, cosmic children of the universe. welcome to my serenity circle.

please leave all bad vibes outside the healing vortex.

i knew i should have got that warranty.

i'm sorry, but this isn't working for me.

it's not like your attitude is helping.

let go of your petty complaints and let's work together.

someone had better be dying.

if he were real, could i do this?

that's quite enough, boys!

look out! they got a piano!

you really need to get yourself a pair of pants.

some people just don't understand boundaries.

it's just so hard, you know?

come on, take it easy!

there's a mean person doing mean things to good people.

i'll go and get my things.

we realy need your help.

sorry, i don't do that stuff anymore.

how about a hug? that's the best kind of magic there is.

jealous much?

where's the baby?

you just need to do a little less yelling and use more soap.

the soap is because you stink. really bad.

i will never forget you. you are the love of my life.

that's easy for you to say!

it's not easy to come by honest work when the whole world is against you.

those are some nice leotards though.

do they have those in men's sizes?

all right, don't overdo it.

break a leg. on second thought, let me break it for you.

i haven't had a trip that bad since college.

please don't eat me.

i've always wanted to play the flute.

i'd rather get the black plague and lock myself in an iron maiden than go out with him.

try to be reasonable.

i don't know you, but i'd like to.

can i interest anyone in a snack or beverage?

that information is on a need to know basis.

what do you want, [name]?

i love you too, honey!

you're going to be a father.

from here on out, we're gonna take care of business ourselves.

this isn't a rehearsal.

i know i made many mistakes with you.

won't you please open mine first?

can you please just try to grin and bear it?

i got you the biggest one because i love you the most.

now you'll have plenty time to work on your marriage.

excuse me. old lady coming through.

just stay out of this!

oh, this place is filthy.

everybody stay calm. we're all gonna die!

[xxsycamore]

𝐍𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞

↬ 👖 Napoleon has a little problem dressing up for a date in the 21st Century. Luckily, the mansion's residents are there to give him fashion advice, divided into team Sexy, team Defense, and team Cute.

Napoleon Bonaparte x MC, ft. all residents ( Leonardo, Mozart, Arthur, Isaac, Dazai, Comte, Sebastian, Jean, Theo, Vincent, Shakespeare) • rating: G • tags: Humor; Crack; Dress Up • wordcount: 1,797 • masterlist

a/n: An early celebration for Napoleon's upcoming birthday, with the prompt Napo Style from my Napoleon Birthday Celebration 2023 event! Enjoy the chaos!

Thanks to The Door at Comte's mansion being fixed and thus allowing a safe trip through the time and space continuum, newer and cooler dating spots are now available for the mansion's lovebirds, Napoleon and MC! How exciting is that? The latter is especially enthusiastic about strolling the streets of 21st-century Paris and showing off her lover…

The former is currently losing his mind.

Because there is an hour left until they step into the vortex of time-traveling, and Napoleon has no idea how people in the future dress for a date. At all.

"This is a problem." Napoleon muses out loud as he paces back and forth in the mansion's lounge room. Of course, he's not alone there, in this house you never get a moment of privacy no matter where you are. Currently he shares his air with… Leonardo, Mozart, Arthur, Isaac, Dazai, Comte, Sebastian, Jean, Theo, Vincent, Shakespeare… wait, why are all of them here?! Even Shakespeare? Could it be that his worries are so prominently written on his face that the residents' gossip-meter was able to track it, and now they're bursting with curiosity?!

"Everything alright, Naps?" Arthur tests the waters, taking a noisy sip from his coffee.

"Yeah, you can always tell us if you have problems with your dating life. That's what friends are for."  Theo chimes in, folding his arms in front of his chest.

"Problems with my dating life? No, it's just… I don't know how to dress up for the date. I thought that maybe I could just go with these clothes…?" Napoleon shrugs, fixing the lapels of his jacket.

"I strongly suggest you don't." Joins Mozart, closing the piano he was pretending to play as he listened in.

"Then what do I put on? MC will be ready in just a moment and she'll no doubt be stunning. Gods… Can any of you help me out?"

"We can."

"Alright old chap, come out whenever you're ready. Too bad that our team's idea is first and therefore it will put an early end to this fashion show." Arthur boasts confidently as he takes his place on the left along with his other team members, part of the Sexy team. As the curtain is dramatically swooshed to reveal Napoleon, the audience livens up in a cacophony of different murmurs…

Napoleon has no idea why the bunch targeted his favorite red curtain-- erm, cape, as the first thing to be removed from the outfit, but in a flash Napoleon sees it hanging from the staircase's railing and he understands. The small space behind the stairs becomes a makeshift changing booth… he does live with the smartest men in history after all. From there on, the smart ideas keep on coming as he steps behind the curtain and braces himself for accepting the various articles of clothing being handed to him to try on.

Napoleon poses awkwardly while trying to hide his attributes, the small cloth hiding his crouch area making it difficult as his pants have been reduced to just that, a loincloth that his trademark big belt holds together. His shirt too has suffered a massive reduction in length and now barely covers his chest, leaving his abs and stomach exposed, a similar thing done to his sleeves so the shirt now reminds more of a tank top of sorts. The golden epaulets from his jacket remain. His boots are untouched, at least. His look is completed with ruffled hair for a messier, sexier hairstyle.

"Ahem. As you may know, the 21st century is vastly different from our times in terms of dressing to impress… so to say, the meaning of that phrase is turned upside down!"

"Undress to impress!" With a finger in the air and a smile on his face, the most unlikely member of team Sexy, Vincent, hurries to add. Before Theo can collapse, Vincent backs up his (unbeknownst to him) scandalous vision with a little bit of his wisdom. "How nice that is, a world that celebrates the body instead of hiding it. Napoleon has a body that many would put on a canvas, and he should celebrate it!"

"Thank you, Vincent."

"Sebastian, why are YOU on this team?" Someone in the crowd asks.

Despite Arthur's confidence in winning this "competition", the other teams are more than eager to have their go in an attempt to beat his idea of modern fashion. After another round of handing stuff to the haphazardly changing behind the curtain Napoleon, a group of four residents get ready to present their idea.

With a perfect little nod, Sebastian says matter-of-factly, "Master Napoleon has a body that many would put on a canvas, and he should celebrate it."

With difficulty, a man in a knight's heavy full armor (that normally can be found in one of the hallways as a decoration) steps in front of the audience's eyes, who they can only assume is Napoleon, due to not a tad of his identity being visible underneath this "outfit".

As a leader of Team Defense, Jean turns to the audience to explain. "The modern world is filled with dangers we're unaware of. Napoleon should prioritize his safety," he eyes his teammate, Shakespeare, who is ready to take the word next: "As well as the safety of his beloved. Thus he clothes in steal and prepares a heavy blade, or a dozen; if the chance arises, he shall defeath all that's on his path, in the name of her!"

As Napoleon hears the signal, he demonstratively takes out a spear, a chain mace, a war hammer, a longsword…! The audience takes a step back.

"They're right. You never know what's out there. There might be cats." Theo nods approvingly, slapping Napoleon's armor as if to test its durability. The last member of team Defense, Mozart, is ready with his own argument.

"Everything there must be dirty. This will protect him from exposure."

Still, this can't end without the final third team showcasing their own unique idea of dressing up Napoleon. And besides, the mansion's daddy, Comte, being a leader of this team is enough to make everyone quiet down and pay attention.

It's a shockingly good argument.

"And finally, team Cute. Because you, my dears, are forgetting a key element of what our fashion show is about, and that is helping our Napoleon win his girl's heart all over again, in a different time, in a different world. We must look from the eyes of MC. And a lady like her, oh her heart surely sings at the sight of everything that can be called cute. She'll swoon and melt as she witnesses Napoleon embracing his inner adorableness; that is for sure!"

Without further ado, Napoleon steps forward, revealing his outfit that for some reason troubles his walking more than the armor from before… the reason might be the tight corset Comte put him in, one made for men nonetheless, but still making it hard for the soldier to act naturally wearing. Especially combined with those high-heeled boots! There's not a trace of any dark colors anywhere to be seen, from frilly innocent whites to sunny yellows to baby pinks, he's dolled up like a little prince from a fairytale. His hair which is the only color out of place, is densely covered in small hairclips, that are not exactly Comte's style, so there might be put there by…

"Napo-chan is so kawaii with the little hair accessories I put on him. I'm convinced MC won't resist kissing you all over."

"Why am I on this team?!" Laments Isaac, whose contribution is narrowed down to an apple he found laying around… surprisingly, posing with the apple does add cute points to Napoleon's look, as much as the physicist hates to admit. He's only on this team because he refused to join in the absurdity of the other two…

"They're right, Naps." Leonardo agrees with a hand on his chin. "I've heard cara-mia gush all over you being cute when you make a slip-up from your mister perfect persona. Be a little clumsier and clueless. She'll find it charming."

Napoleon hums and looks at the palms of his glove-clad hands, a little lost. "I'm, uhhh… not so sure what you mean."

"That's it, just like that."

"Okay, that's all, which team won?" Arthur asks impatiently, not very amused about the fact that his coffee mug is now empty.

"That's for Napoleon to decide. What do you think, Napoleon?"

Napoleon takes a look at all the faces lit up in expectation, and makes a "wait" gesture as he disappeared behind the curtain again. A few seconds later he is out, dressed in what appears to be an untouched replica of his original outfit, but almost hidden beneath various items that each of the teams can recognize as their own.

"You all joined forces to help me, so the answer can only be a combination of your efforts. With this, I'm confident about covering all bases necessary for a successful date with my Nunuche. Thank you."

"Spoken like a true leader!" Dazai cheers, instantly approving the idea.

The door swings open as MC walks in at a fast pace, hurrying to collect Napoleon's hand and take him away. She's dressed in a simple sundress and wearing her light pink bag over a shoulder with the little Mousette charm hanging from it.

"There you are Napoleon, we're going to be late for our date…! What are you wearing?"

Napoleon makes a troubled humming noise as he shakes off item after item, throwing them in different directions as they clatter against the floor and roll off somewhere. He's back in his day-to-day outfit.

"Nothing much. Nunuche, the truth is… you're stunning. I didn't want to disappoint you. I'm sorry but I couldn't find anything to dress up for our date."

"Oh? What are you talking about, we're going to get you dressed up right now! As soon as we step out of the door we'll go to my friend Mai's boutique and you can have a full Comtherapy!"

"…I…What's a Comtherapy?"

"A Comte-therapy! A shopping therapy, dummy! He even gave me money to dress you up this morning! Thank you, daddy Comte!"

"You're welcome, ma cherie."

"COMTE? WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US?" a bunch of voices speak up at the same time.

"Why, my dearest residents and I were having so much fun. Who am I to spoil it?"

Amidst the chaos, Napoleon and MC begin to laugh, their hands still intertwined because of MC's earlier attempt to sneak Napoleon out of the rowdy room. Napoleon smirks and takes the lead, leaving the residents to their wits.

"Come on, Nunuche. Let's go on our date."

MC swoons and gawks, following right after.

"Gods Napoleon, you're so charming!"

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran    @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @canaria-blackwell @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 ​ @ikemenlover24 @violettduchess @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @my-day6 Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[projazznet]

Keith Jarrett – Restoration Ruin

Restoration Ruin is an album by Keith Jarrett on which he performs multiple instruments (including piano, organ, guitar, soprano saxophone, harmonica, recorder, bass guitar, drums, tambourine and sistrum), and sings his own lyrics. Recorded and released on the Atlantic Records subsidiary Vortex in 1968, the album remains unique in Jarrett’s catalogue, displaying a sound largely influenced by folk and progressive rock. It can be seen as the first part of an experimental period which explored neither traditional jazz nor classical music. Keith Jarrett – vocals, guitar, harmonica, soprano saxophone, recorder, piano, organ, electric bass, drums, tambourine, sistrum

[70snasagay]

mike nesmith having a version of tumbling tumbleweeds (the song famously played in the piano scene in two of us (2000)) has concerning implications nightmare vortex-wise

[forgetmenomore]

Vortex on piano (again because I only got theougn 17 seconds last time)! Only like- 34 seconds because I suck at this oh my gosh. I didn't lift the pedal because I wanted to cover the background noise. I messed up a lot, ofc. Sorry

Since this post isn't very entertaining (I just really wanted to play Vortex), have this:

[weepingfoxfury]

Sunday, Sunday, Sunday ...

Yep, there's sunshine! Making the most of it (obviously) by sitting in the kitchen and looking at it Bette Midler style (From A Distance.) The Lost Postman is like a wild man out there ... I think everything is covered in sun cream, apart from him.

Don't know about you, but the less years ahead of me, the more my body declares 'Houston, we have a problem.'

Eyes are supposedly the windows of the soul ... in which case, my soul is doing battle with the world. Doesn't happen all the time, but the books that I love to read have seemingly gained another sun in their orbit. The pages (much like LED car lights) glare at me, throw their words into my face and leave me scrambling to make them make sense.

I mean ... I'm all for a bit of abstract ... but perusal a la Jackson Pollock leaves me with way more mystery than meaning. Even Agatha Christie's expertise cannot contend with such a visual vortex. Whichever murderer she might have decided was the one what done it ... the butler has quit and my eyes and mind have decided otherwise.

Still ... my temporary Elton John style solution is helping ... though I have doubts it will improve my piano playing ;-) ...

[celestialsun123]

Vortex Piano Cover - Melody Only

Look what I can do :D

Uh, don't mind the angle. You're staring at my piano, and the weird little clacking noise is my little charms that are on my phone.

[abbygrabska]

Human Nature

​​The central console of the TARDIS is sparking crazily as we pick ourselves off the floor.

“Did they see either of you?!” The Doctor shouts.

“I don’t know, I was too busy running!” I tell him.

“Girls, it’s important… Did they see your face?”

Martha shakes her head, “No, they couldn’t have!” The Doctor runs around the console and starts playing with the controls, “Off we go!”

We stand next to him as he watches the time rotor intently.

A warning beep cuts in, symbols appearing on the console screen.

“Ahh!” He grabs the console screen and reads it, “They’re following us.” He goes back to the controls.

“How can they do that? You’ve got a time machine.” Martha points out.

“Stolen technology, they’ve got a Time Agent’s vortex manipulator. They can follow us wherever we go, right across the universe…” He pauses, “They’re never going to stop.” He runs a hand through his hair nervously, staring off before he speaks quietly, “Unless… I’ll have to do it…” He stares at us, “Girls, you trust me, don’t you?” “With my life,” I say.

“Of course I do.”

“'Cause it all depends on you two.” He dives below the console to retrieve something.

“What does? What are we supposed to do?” I ask.

He comes up, holding an ornate pocket watch, “Take this watch, ‘cause my life depends on it. Girls, this watch is me.” I take it from his hands as he runs around the console.

“Those creatures are hunters; they can sniff out anyone, and me being a Time Lord, well, I’m unique. They can track me down across the whole of time and space. They can smell me, they haven’t seen me. And their lives are bound to be running out, so we hide, wait for them to die.” “But they can track us down,” I say.

He looks at me, “That’s why I’ve got to do it. I have to stop being a Time Lord. I’m gonna become human.” He looks up at a strange headset hanging from a cable, lowering it into his reach, “Never thought I’d use this. All the times I’ve wondered.” “What does it do?” I ask.

“Chameleon Arch. Rewrites my biology. Changes every single cell in my body. I’ve set it to human.” He takes the pocket watch from my hands, fitting it into a section of the headset, “Now, the TARDIS will take care of everything. Invent a life story for me, find me a setting, and integrate me. Can’t do the same for you two… you’ll just have to improvise. I should have just enough residual awareness to let you in.”

“But… hold on, if you’re going to rewrite every single cell, isn’t it going to hurt?” Martha asks.

“Oh, yeah. It hurts.”

Two months later…

Martha enters the TARDIS, the console room is barely lit up.

I am sitting on the stairs. “Anything yet?”

She nods, “There was a meteor, a shooting star. Did the video say anything about that?”

I sigh, “No. Trust me, I’ve watched it what feels like a million times.”

She frowns, “Are you okay?” “As okay as I can be, it’s been two months of him not knowing I exist.” She hesitates to respond, “I think that the Matron is interested in John.” I nod slowly, “Okay.” “Is it?”

“Yeah, of course it is. It’s not like he knows who I am anymore.” I wipe the tears from my eyes.

“I think he does, though.” She whispers.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s been dreaming of The Doctor; he keeps mentioning you, though I’m sure he thinks you’re just a figment of his imagination.” She tells me, “That’s why he hasn’t responded much to the Matron’s advances. I bet if you showed up, he’d fall in love with you all over again.” I stare off into the dimly lit center console, “Maybe you’re right.”

“There’s an opening for a maid at the school.” She smiles at me.

I smile back at her, “I’ll get changed.”

Martha rides back to the school. I go into the village dressed in Edwardian fashion.

I spot John and who I assume is the Matron. They seem entranced with one another.

I walk quietly, looking around, there’s a woman and a perambulator coming around the corner. The rope sling holding the piano aloft outside the shop is breaking. The two men holding it are trying desperately to steady it. A young boy is tossing a cricket ball up and down in his hand. I look from the ball to the rope, the piano lurches alarmingly.

I grab the cricket bat from the boy, throwing it at a bundle of spare scaffolding pieces standing outside the ironmongers. The poles fall, hitting a plank of wood with a brick on the end. The brick flies into the air, up and over the piano, just as the rope snaps and it starts hurtling to the ground. The brick hits a milk churn on a cart, sending it falling into the path of the perambulator and stopping it in its tracks. The woman screams, and the piano hits the ground, smashing into pieces.

The baby starts crying, the two workmen rush over to see if the woman is alright.

I can see John staring at me from the reflection in the shop window, seemingly entranced, before he blinks rapidly, “Abby?”

I turn, smiling, “Yes?”

“Do you two know each other?” Matron asks, looking between us.

I shake my head, “I’ve never met this man before. I’m not sure how he knows my name.” “Sorry, it’s just… You look so much like the woman in my dreams.” He says. I flush, “Well, I’ve certainly never heard that line before.”

He seems to realize what he said, “Oh, I just meant I’ve had dreams of a woman who looks like you and is also apparently named Abby.” 

“How interesting.” I smile, “Do either of you know the way to the Farrigham School for Boys? My friend mentioned they had an open position as a maid.”

“Oh, we both work there. The Matron and I. We can walk you there.”

She looks at him, slightly upset.

“Well, I’d love that. But if you could tell me your name, that would be lovely, seeing as you already seem to know mine.” I suggest. “Right, I’m John, John Smith.” He offers his hand. “It’s lovely to meet you, John Smith. I’m Abigail Grabska, though I just prefer Abby.” I place my hand in his.

To my surprise, he doesn’t shake my hand but brings it up and presses a kiss to it.

“These dreams you spoke about, you said there’s a woman who looks like me in them?”

“Yes, same name, same beautiful freckles.” He grins at me, “In fact, I’m positive I could find some constellations in them.”

I blush, “Well, I’ve never had someone compliment me like that.”

He frowns, “Anyone who looks like you should get compliments every day.”

“Well, if I get the job, I’ll expect them.” I grin at him.

He notices something, “That scarecrow’s all skewed.” “Well then, we better fix it.” I hike up my dress and cross the furrow.

I  climb the post to move its arms across the frame, “All better now.”

I turn and glance back at them, John is looking at me fondly, the Matron, not so much.

I jump off the post and cross the furrow again.

We head back onto the road.

Later in the day, I get changed into my new maid uniform and knock on the open door to John’s study.

He looks up from his book and smiles, “Abby, hello.”

“Hello.” I motioned to the room, “May I come in?”

“Of course.” He motions to the sofa across from him.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Just going over my journal of dreams.” “Am I in it?” I ask jokingly.

“Yes, actually. You pop up quite a lot.” He speaks seriously. He gets up and sits next to me on the sofa, holding the journal open for me to see. 

There are dozens of sketches of him and me on the open pages.

The day we first met, the wedding we went to, our first kiss. All of my favorite moments.

“They’re lovely,” I whisper, stroking the pages.

“Yes, you are.” He murmurs, before realizing what he said, “I mean, the sketches, not that you aren’t lovely.”

“I think you’re lovely too, John.” I smile.

“We barely know each other.” He whispers, leaning in slowly until our noses touch.

I lean in further, connecting our lips.

“I’ve never, um…” He runs out of words, choosing to kiss me again.

The door rattles, and we pull apart.

“Martha, what have I told you about entering unannounced?”

She scurries back out and closes the door behind her.

He turns back to me, “Sorry about that.”

I smile lightly, “It’s alright.”

He takes my hand in his, “Would you like to go to the village dance this evening? As my guest?”

“I’d love to.” I smile.

I enter his study again, this time in a dress similar to what Rose wore on the Titanic. “You look amazing.”

I smile, “Thank you.”

The door bursts open, and a breathless Martha runs in, “They’ve found us.”

“Martha, I’ve warned you.”

“They’ve found us, and I’ve seen them. They look like people, like us, like normal. I’m sorry, but you’ve got to open the watch.” She looks at the mantlepiece, “Where is it?” She shuffles through the things on the mantlepiece, “Oh my god, where’s it gone? Where’s the watch?”

“What are you talking about?” John asks.

“You had a watch, a fob watch. Right there!” “Did I? I don’t remember.”

“But we need it… Oh my god, Doctor, we’re hiding from aliens, and they’ve got Jenny and they’ve possessed her or copied her or something, and you’ve got to tell me, where’s the watch?” “Oh, I see…” He leans in to whisper to me, “Cultural differences.” I clench my jaw as he picks up his journal.

“It must be so confusing for you. Martha, this is what we call a story.”

I glare at him, “Enough! John, I will talk to her, you get ready for the dance.”

I grab Martha’s arm and pull her out of the room, slamming the door shut behind us.

I lower my voice to a whisper, “Find the watch, or make him remember, somehow. I’ll keep him distracted.”

She nods.

We arrive at the village hall for the dance.

“Spare a penny for the veterans of Crimea, sir?” A man asks.

“Yes, of course.” John digs through his pockets, pulling out a couple of coins. “There you are.”

Inside, people are milling about, getting drinks from a beer keg.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Please take your partners for a waltz.”

John takes my hand and we start to dance.

The song ends, and John says he’s going to get us drinks, so I sit down.

Martha approaches me quickly.

“Did you find the watch?” I ask.

“No.” She shakes her head, “But I got his Sonic. That should jog something, right?” She pulls out his Sonic, handing it to me.

John walks over, not happy to see Martha, “Oh, now really, Martha. This is getting out of hand. I must insist that you leave.”

I hold out the Sonic, “Do you know what this is? Name it. Go on, name it.”

He stares at me, “Not you too.”

“Take it.”

He sighs, slowly takes it, and turns it over in his hands.

“You’re not John Smith. You’re called the Doctor. The man in your journal, he’s real. He’s you.”

A man strides in, knocking over a hat stand. People shriek and move away.

“There will be silence! All of you!” Scarecrows file in after a schoolboy and a maid, I assume to be Jenny.

“I said silence!”

“Mr. Clarke! What’s going on?”

Clarke turns and fires at the announcer, dissolving him into nothing.

I turn to John, “Forget everything I just said! Don’t say anything.” “We asked for silence! Now then. We have a few questions for Mr. Smith.”

“No, better than that.” A little girl joins the schoolboy and Mr. Clarke, “The teacher. He’s the Doctor. I heard them talking.” 

“You took human form.” “Of course I’m human, I was born human! As were you, Baines. And Jenny, and you, Mr. Clarke! What is going on? This is madness!” “And a human brain, too! Simple, thick, and dull.” “He’s no good like this,” Jenny says. “We need a Time Lord.” “Easily done.” Baines steps forward, raising his gun and aiming at John.

Everyone gasps, and he recoils backward.

“Change back!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Change back!”

He shouts, “I literally do not know…” Jenny grabs Martha and holds a gun to her head, “She’s your friend, isn’t she? Doesn’t this scare you enough to change back?” “I don’t know what you mean!” “Wait a minute…” Jenny says, “The maid told me about Smith and the new one… that woman, there!” “Let’s have you!” Clarke grabs me, holding me hostage like Martha.

“Have you enjoyed it, Doctor? Being human? Has it taught you wonderful things? Are you better, richer, wiser? Then let’s see you answer this. Which one of them do you want us to kill? Your friend, or your lover? Your choice.”

[nohugsgiven]

got tagged by @blastdamage (:

The Rules™: pick a song for every letter in your URL and then tag that many people

nacreous snowmelt by Camellia [j-core]

out of my mind by Gyrofield [dnb]

hype invader by Kobaryo [uk hardcore/electrocore]

uninvited guest by Mitsukiyo [piano]

girls by Masakatsu Takagi [piano]

skin-deep by Multy Tabs [easycore/pop punk]

games by Kraus [noiserock]

it's our destiny (Imanu self remix) by Imanu [dnb]

vortex by YZYX [chiptune] (not the full name but cmon man i don't know any songs starting with V <'3)

effection (part 2) by weyheyhey !! [breakcore]

new canaan by Bill Wurtz [country folk]

i'd love to hear from @lost-in-a-meadow @oediex @ouroya @juiches-blog @androidenkaetzchen @peachypixxie @lucid-lefty @budpuppy @tobeflyhigh @snowbleat @soft-raining and anyone who sees this and feels like doing it! i picked super randomly 💛 edit: tumblr is a fuck and won't let me tag the rest of the people hhh. sorry about sending the rest manually & bothering yall sfsfgd