#andean singers

[zhanteimi]

Enrique Males – Jarishimi Kichuapi

Enrique Males – Jarishimi Kichuapi

Ecuador, 1984, indigenous Andean music / singer-songwriter Five minutes into this album you will sit back and say “I’ve stumbled onto something special here”. So much passion, such mastery and mystery. And the way Males plays his guitar—making it sound almost harp-like! Even without understanding the language, I feel like this music is weaving an entire folk story around me, immersing me in…

[loopscereal]

i need to know what happened between golden and freddy.... i also need to know more about golden in general. anything. i love them

heheheh hi chocooo im so glad youre curious :3 this is very fun. uh. first i must say: golden didnt do jack 👹 freddys just an insufferable bastard 👹👹👹 also you're. making it hard not to impulsively start the AU blog... god /light hearted, positive, half-joking

sorry for not answering asap i wanted to answe it a billion different ways but here u go ig lol

“loops i swear to god if this is an animal thing again”

its an animal thing yall. Im kidding. Its only partly an animal thing. the folloring screenshots are form my Friends With You and Zombie boards!

In these screenshots above we see Golden introducing themselves, and Freddy's reaction. Their name means Gold in english, AU on the periodic table, their favorite number is seven, and that's fine. Then their other speech bubbles start turning red. They say they like to sing, that they're nonbinary, and that they're an Andean/spectacled bear. Then we see Freddy's face. Something is bothering him, and its those things Golden said about themself.

1. The singing.

Some background. Golden didn't join the animatronics off the bat, they weren't in the group until ALMOST a week after Freddy was integrated.

He already had background on guitar, but he was going to be the voice, was looking forward to being in that role. He didn't present himself as really desiring the role, and was genuinely internally conflicted about it. He doesn't want to stand out, he cant let himself stand out, he's already failing so hard by being in a band, and yet. He does want to take this, he does want to be in this role, but he keeps making up excuses as to why he shouldn't, why he can't be the singer. Freddy sings, privately, and he downplayed his debilitated passively to the animatronics. Both singing and guitar. Saying that they could surely find a better singer in no time, and that he could very much settle as second guitar, and in fact should be, he can't complete with Bonnie, its not even a question. ^^ He's fine being outshines, he thinks should be. He's most comfortable in the shadows.

The animatronics respond with. "Okay, we won't force you to be the singer, we will try seeing if anyone else is interested, but you're the only one of us with some basics in it, and this whole band is for fun, and we don't care if you kinda suck. We kinda suck, were all learning together, being dedicated is all that matters you don't have to be amazing out the gate." (they don't say exactly that, but that's what they're tying to say lol.) Anyways They make a deal that if the week passes and they haven't found a singer that Freddy should be their voice by virtue of having some background in it. Freddy agrees to this, and quietly hopes the week passes with 'no luck' in finding a singer. He wont say what he wants, and just hopes the path of least resistant allows him it have this, even if hes conflicted about it.

Then Golden appears before the week ends. Saying they can sing, and the animatronics are all like. Oh wow this is perfect lmao in the nick of time haha.

I give all that context because i wanna make it so clear that Golden didn't take this from Freddy. Golden came in with Fox, without any intent of joining the band at all! They just introduced themself with their usual intro (they've got a script) which happens to include the fact that they like to sing.

Golden learns that Freddy has some background, that Freddy was gonna be the voice if they didn't find anyone before the end of the week. They say that they don't want to take this from Freddy if he wants the role as singer, since Freddy was here first. Freddy assured that Golden's a better fit with more experience. Golden offers that they both be the singers. Freddy declines and says he can stick with 2nd guitar. He's better at guitar than singing anyway.

Freddy chose to let this go.

Regardless of what Freddy said, Golden catches Freddy quietly singing along to their songs on more than one occasion, and just acting odd around them. After Freddy makes eye-contact with golden in the scene above, we see that he messed up his playing, apologizes to the animatronics, ad excuses himself. Of course Golden is going to notice that and make a mental note of it. They don't want to assume anything, they don't want to make up what-ifs, they don't want Freddy to be uncomfortable in the band, so what do they do?

They reach out like a normal person.

They did try to brush this off as some fluke they were seeing, but consistent instances convinced them something up, and they were just. confused? Slight agitated by not knowing what the hell is going on between them, what they did to upset Freddy, since the others mannerisms seem to clearly show a response to Golden in particular. How Fox acts when Golden has tries to approach Freddy about it, as if he fucking knows smth that they don't. They don't like being out of the info loop. They don't like being in messed they didn't know they were in! They'd like to resolve this.

Freddy ghosts them for as long as he can. But eventually comes a day where the animatronics all agree to hang out outside of school someday, and Freddy who had previously agreed to it is baking the hell out without telling anyone because he doesn't want to be confronted by Golden.

But golden shows up outside Freddy n Fred's. "I'm picking you up." Silly. Anyways Freddy cant get out of this now! Snap under the slighted bit of pressure you fool. Freddy says to give him a minute as he gets ready, then gets in the car.

Golden asks if the discomfort they're detecting From Freddy stems from them 'taking' the role of the bands singer. Freddy says it isn't.

Golden then follows up, slightly more annoyed? i don't really know what this sentiment is called. They're a bit tired. They ask if Freddy is bothered by Golden's nonbinary identity, since it's something people often find issue with. If the singing isn't a problem, then they naturally ask if the issue is the one thing people always question and complain about. Freddy interrupts them, in this. Not saying no, but responding with another question.

"Why do you pretend you don't know, who's to blame." Then motions to himself. He's asking why Golden is think they did anything at all. Saying they didn't do anything, that its a 'him issue'. He's to blame, the cause of his own problem, and Golden hasn't done anything to upset him. Golden's confused by this. Despite trying not to make things up, despite trying not to assume whats wrong, between the times the noticed something was upsetting Freddy, that he was uncomfortable, they had caught all these moments and attached them to themself. Lightly assuming they were the cause. So its surprising and confusing to hear "You didn't do anything, I did this to myself. You're fine, you're perfect, it's me and my head. Its not you at all"

They arrive outside Golden's house entrance (the gate) now, getting off the car then talking more now that they're out and on foot.

Freddy doesn't address how the singing does bother him, nor Golden's nonbinary identity.

2. Golden being Nonbinary

Why the hell would Golden being Nb bother Freddy? How the hell does that affect you dude? Whats wrong with you? Golden is out, Golden knows their identity, they're relatively androgynous as well, their family knows, the school lets them bring a unique uniform to school because of their family, they wear a nonbinary pin all the time. They know they're nonbinary, and tell people as such.

Freddy is. SO damn envious. Envious that they're androgynous, envious that the school allows them to present how they want, that they've told their family, that their family is seemingly clearly supportive of their identity. Envious that they dress in the way that makes them happy, that they're openly nonbinary its one of the first things they'll tell you about themselves.

Freddy's so envious and bothered that Golden seems so fucking sure. So sure of themselves and of their identity. They know they're nonbinary, they know their identity.

Freddy fucking doesn't. He's transmasc, and the only reason the animatronics know Freddy as male is because he misspoke. It was an accident he was too nervous to 'correct' himself on in the moment and refused to correct because 'it would be weird now'. Doesn't accept that he likes how hes refereed to with the band, makes excuses as to why he can't 'correct' them, god knows he wont tell his mom, especially when he isn't even sure. Hes going through hoops. Gender questioning crisis and also in denial and just generally fighting himself about it, and is PISSED some other person dares be chill about themself and confident in their identity. Envious of their certainty, pissed that they know.

lmao. get over it i hate him.

ANYWAY. The final thing.

3. Golden being an Andeadn bear.

jesus christ be normal you freak ass bear

Golden is an inland Andean bear. Freddy is a coastal Grizzly bear.

Now what the hell does that mean? It should be nothing! IT should be nothing because your animal isn't all thaaaat important to most people. Freddy is not most people. He's a fucking Grizzly bear. That feels pretty fuckin important. Why is that important? Why cant you be normal you fuck freak?

Uh. growing up, Freddy has had it drilled into his head that he as a bear is an inherit danger to others, to watch himself for the sake of others, that he can hurt people if he isn’t careful. People were always weary of him, even as a child.

He’s a grizzly bear, even a cub can be lethal, some might argue they're more dangerous due to unrefined motor-control.

This upset him greatly, he couldn’t just have fun as a child without getting told to be careful for the sake of the people he wanted to play with. He was already pretty reserved, awkward, and distant in a personality sense, and that gave him enough trouble connecting to people.

being a bear is important, being a bear matters, being a patter shapes how he presents himself and how he acts with people and how he had to do double to look half as safe to be around.

Golden is an andean bear.

The total average spectacled bear is about 5.3 ft/161cm. It's mostly an herbivore, it's average diet is 5-7% meat, they aren't territorial. How do they react with humans or other bears? Docile, cautious, but docile unless their babies are near. They're called "spectacled bear" or "oso de anteojos" because aw their fur pattern makes them look like they're wearing glasses! They don't hibernate since the Andes mountains are near the equator and don't experience those seasonal changes. Their weight and length/height varies between sexes, over all length is 120-200cm, "Males can weigh from 100 to 200 kg (220 to 440 lb), and females can weigh from 35 to 82 kg (77 to 181 lb)" (Wikipedia. i trust it too much for my own good. I'm writing this as 2am lol) and guess who's on hormone blockers baybeeeee. Sorry Golden is so small compared tot he other bears.

Anyway, do you know how many Andean bear attacks their are every year? Fucking NONE. at least none i can find. Wikipedia says there one reported death, but when i try searching it firefox talking about spectacled bears escaping their enclosure, or BEING killed, cause they're ENDANGERED, due to poaching! They aren't perceived as threats, people see them in the streets (irl) and toss em fruit. they are found sleeping in trees in public, they aren't perceives as a threat. They're glorified dogs.

Then there's Grizzlies.

Do I need to explain this? Do i need to explain how polar fucking opposite an andean bear is from a grizzly? Well im GONNA.

The average Grizzly bear is about 6.5 ft/198cm. They're omnivores, they're known to take down big animals like moose, gown ones!! Thought ofc they're more likely to take the babies/younger version of larger animals cause its just. easier. They eat fish, they scavenge remains, they eat birds and their eggs, even dangerous birds like eagles. their total average length/height is 198 -240 cm. (6.4-7.8ft) Their diet is 10-20% meat, they ARE territorial, very territorial. Relation with humans and other bears? Are you kidding? Their name means grizzled, fearsome, gruesome, "horrible bear" for a reason. They have range across all of north america, and i previously mentioned Golden being inland and Freddy being coastal. Inland bears tend to be smaller by a good amount compared to coastal bears, just across all of them, since coast means a lot of food. THey hubernate, they ARE perceived as dangerous, they have an entire weapon created tot ake them down (bear trap) and what it does is imobilize and incapacitate them, not kill the, A bear trap has the same force a bears jaw typically has. Fitting huh? Why wouldnt you use a gun? Brown and black (not to mention polar, biggest of them all) bears can tank bulletes! their skin is thick, their body is sturdy! Its common to hear people say "if youre faced with a grizzly, and you have a gun, you are best off aiming at yourself" THATS. HELLO? JEsus christ lol.

Freddy confesses how much he compared the two of them, he and Golden, their bears, he doesn't go deeply into it because he's aware how weird it sounds to be so focused on their animal. But he talks about it, how he feels like this big, terrible thing in comparison, struggles he has as a bear, seeing golden have basically none of those issues kinda ! sucks! He wishes he could be a teddy bear, he wishes he could be more like Golden. Less of an inherit threat.

"And i can tell you really love me"

Golden can tell Freddy's being really honest wit this, that he really means it, that he's really opening up, that the two of them are genuinely getting somewhere, genuinely at the start of a resolution. They can tell Freddy cares, in some way, because 'this whole time it want the discomfort i thought it was, he clearly has been trying to put his way of thinking away, his way of letting animal dictate his life is overwhelming and its weird but admirable that he's kept it away.

Golden assures Freddy that he's more than just his animal, sure if affects aspects of their lived, that Freddy doesn't come off half as threatening as he thinks he does. That they see him as a person and not just a bear.

This rings hollow to Freddy.

But he says hes really, very, sorry, for making things weird and uncomfortable. They he's trying to get rid of that way o thinking, it was drilled into him, and he's trying ti shake it off. "can you tell I'm really sorry?" Can you tell I'm very sorry

"Can you tell I'm really sorry?" Can you tell I'm actually sorry? Can you tell I meant it at all?

He switched with Fred, so they can pretend like that conversation resolved anything on Freddys end.

Long story short Golden didn't do shit other than exist, Freddy's an envious bastard. if you made it all this way here's some Golden fun facts i didn't finish but tried to make for this post. Also so sorry if this ended up sounding so Freddy cnetric, Golden genuinly didnt have that much of a fucking problem with Freddy.

i didn't finish theeeese. if you cant read my writing FAIR. iiiiii just ask and ill transcribe what they say. heart emoji.

i probably missed something,,, if i missed smth and remeber ill add it in the comments.

anyways thank you times a billion for the ask choco!! i love this interactive stuff i love talking to you guys i love this little community of our :D you all are always welcome to send me asks and message me whatever whenever! 💞💞💞 ive never had so much fun in the internet, adore you all fnafhsblr :3 my beloved neighbors

[laresearchette]

Sunday, October 13, 2024 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES?: 2024 FANGORIA CHAINSAW AWARDS (Shudder)

WHAT IS NOT PREMIERING IN CANADA TONIGHT?: TRACKER (Premiering on October 14 on CTV at 7:00pm)

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

CRAVE TV STARDUST STARMAN

NFL FOOTBALL (TSN/TSN3/TSN4) 1:00pm: Cardinals vs. Packers (TSN/TSN3/TSN4) 4:00pm: Chargers vs. Broncos (TSN/TSN3/TSN4/TSN5) 8:20pm: Bengals vs. Giants

WNBA BASKETBALL (SN) 3:00pm: Lynx vs. Liberty - Game 2

NWSL SOCCER (TSN2) 5:00pm: Utah Royals vs. Seattle Reign

NBA BASKETBALL (SN Now) 6:00pm: Timberwolves vs. Knicks (SN360) 7:00pm: Raptors vs. Celtics (SN Now) 8:30pm: Pistons vs. Warriors

NHL HOCKEY (TSN3) 6:00pm: Wild vs. Jets (SN) 8:00pm: Flames vs. Oilers

MLS SOCCER (TSN2) 7:00pm: Portland vs. Dallas

HEARTLAND (CBC) 7:00pm: Caleb returns to help Amy with a mysterious Icelandic horse; weather conditions force Lou to build a firebreak with the enemy..OH NO! NOT HORSIES!

NORTHWOODS SURVIVAL (APTN) 7:00pm: Spring: Spring has arrived in the North and the Northwood survival homesteaders emerge from their winter cocoons to tackle a new set of seasonal challenges.

MLB BASEBALL (SN1) 7:30pm: Mets vs. Dodgers - Game 1

THE GREAT CANADIAN BAKING SHOW (CBC) 8:00pm: Nine bakers attempt to wow the judges with flavour-packed, bite-sized treats as they enter Cookie Week.

HAUNTED MANSION (2023) (CTV2) 8:01pm: A woman and her son enlist a motley crew of so-called spiritual experts to help rid their home of supernatural squatters.

STARDUST (Starz Canada) 9:00pm: Singer David Bowie reinvents himself as Ziggy Stardust while touring America to promote his new album "The Man Who Sold the World."

EXPEDITION AMAZON (Nat Geo Canada) 10:00pm (SERIES PREMIERE): Exploring and investigating the Amazon's diverse ecosystems and species, from mangrove forests to pink dolphins and Andean bears, revealing urgent challenges and hopeful solutions for conserving this vital freshwater resource.

ROCK SOLID BUILDS (HGTV Canada) 10:00pm: A mermaid-theme fishing stage is ready for a tricky install just as a major snowstorm moves in; a delivery delay threatens to bring a major renovation in Brigus to a standstill.

SUCH BRAVE GIRLS (Crave) 10:00pm/10:30pm (SERIES PREMIERE): Single mother Deb and her two daughters, Josie and Billie, attempt to piece their lives back together after their narcissistic father and husband finally leaves them. Deb invites her new boyfriend, Dev, home to meet her daughters, Billie and Josie, while also hiding how troubled they are; Billie tries to win back Nicky, the reluctant love of her life. In Episode Two, Deb is determined to bond with Dev and finally gets to see his massive house; Billie plays hard to get with Nicky; Josie remembers she has a boyfriend.

[aangussca]

Art Studio 1 Excursion: ArtSpace, AGNSW and MCA - PART 2 (10.5.24)

MCA: 24th Sydney Biennale

Juan Davila's oil paintings

Row 1: Untitled (2021), Untitled (2023)

Row 2: Untitled (2021), After Image Wilderness (2010)

Description: "Asked why he chose painting, Juan Davila once answered, 'An enjoyment … does not need explanation. Over an artistic career spent lacerating political figures, government policy and state control, the artist has indeed consistently refused to explain himself. From the outset, Davila's paintings have unflinchingly interrogated cultural, sexual and social identities, taking cues from popular culture, political discourse and mythology to create a complex and provocative body of work. Born in Chile, Davila moved to Naarm/Melbourne in 1974 after the fall of the socialist Allende government. However, his work does not suggest what 'should be', instead richly-illustrating the joys, anxieties, shames and triumphs of the contemporary moment. Psychological and psychoanalytic themes are often present, but the artist refuses to articulate or reveal a clear position, prompting us to question our own biases."

Freddy Mamani

Left to right: Diablada (2024, wood coated in gloss enamel), Salon Gallo de Oro (2024, maquette)

Description: "For the past 15 years, Aymaran architect Freddy Mamani has been designing and building Cholets, a combination of the French word 'chalet' and 'cholo', a reappropriated term once used to disparage those of indigenous descent in Bolivia. Interrupting the monotony of the existing cityscape with his vibrant and distinct neo-Andean style, each Cholet recalls the colours, designs and patterning unique to the Aymara culture. The title Diablada, in particular, recalls the Danza de los Diablos, an Andean cultural dance characterised by performers wearing carnivalesque costumes of trickster devil characters. Neo-Andean architecture largely emerged during the presidency, from 2006 to 2019, of Evo Morales, who was Bolivia's first indigenous leader in the country's 200-year history. It can be seen as a consequence of both his economic policies, which empowered a generation of Aymara business people, and of the sense of pride he instilled in the country's indigenous majority. Designed specifically for the needs of the Aymaran people, each Cholet is three to seven storeys high and follows the same essential layout; the ground floor is dedicated to commercial activities, the middle floors to cultural events, while the upper floors are residences. In this way, each Cholet develops and sustains its own economy. As Mamani says, 'this architecture has its own language, its own culture, its own identity'."

Left to right: Sergey Parajanov's The Colour of Pomegranates, (Out-takes and camera tests) (1969, film installation - colour film), Frank Moore's Lullaby (1997, oil on canvas with red pine frame)

Description of Parajanov's The Colour of Pomegranates: "The Colour of Pomegranates follows the 18th-century ashug (poet, singer) Sayat-Nova from his time in Georgia's royal court, love affair with a princess, consequent expulsion and journey across the Caucasus, to his death in a monastery. Transcending both traditional narrative and national boundaries to draw inspiration from across the region, much like Sayat-Nova's songs, the film recalls a series of Persian or Armenian illuminated miniatures. Created in the years following filmmaker Sergey Parajanov's disavowal of social realism and before his 1973 arrest by Soviet authorities under false charges, it contains references to the endurance of cultures across the South Caucasus region (Armenia, Azerbaijan, Georgia, as well as Ukraine) in the face of Soviet oppression. Re-edited by Sergei Yutkevich, a key figure of the avant-garde during the 1920s, his version balanced Parajanov's poetic style with the Gosfilmofond's (Russia's state film archive) demands to make the film more accessible. Thanks to documentary filmmaker Daniel Bird and the National Cinema Center of Armenia, the unseen out-takes from The Colour of Pomegranates were presented at the International Film Festival Rotterdam in 2019. Over a hundred canisters of out-takes have survived despite the Soviet authorities blocking its distribution. Such film would typically have been recycled rather than preserved. Starring Sofiko Chiaureli, who plays six characters, The Colour of Pomegranates left a lasting impact on the film industry and survives as a testament to the power of poetry as a form of resistance across centuries."

Description of Moore's Lullaby: "Ernest Hemingway once suggested that each person dies twice, once when they pass away and again when the last person to remember them forgets. However, if someone is forgotten before they die, then it might feel as if they never existed. This was the reality for those who lived through the AIDS crisis. For years, as people became sick and died America's gay community was ignored by the media and government. Painter and activist Frank Moore, who at 48 died with HIV/AIDS, created Lullaby by transforming his own sick bed into a whimsical landscape populated by a herd of buffalo. Given US President Ronald Reagan did not so much as utter the word AIDS until four years into the crisis, Moore suspected that his community, much like the endangered buffalo, was being left to become extinct. Drawing parallels between the AIDS epidemic and burgeoning ecological crises, Moore believed that this was an apocalypse for himself and those he loved."

Serwah Attafuah's Between this World & the Next (2023-2024, film installation - digital animation (3D computer-rendered models), and e-waste on wooden frame)

Description: "Serwah Attafuah's digital creation unfolds in a near-future Ghana, drawing viewers into an Afrofuturistic vista contrasting colonial remnants with utopian hope. The narrative, propelled by burning slave castles, sinking colonial ships and formidable female warriors, weaves a tale that is both haunting and empowering. This work embodies Ghana's matrilineal legacy, while addressing contemporary issues like e-waste dumping, symbolised by a bespoke frame crafted from e-waste and the incorporation of Sakawa, or 'internet magic. Responding to William Strutt's Black Thursday, February 6th, 1851, also on display, Attafuah delves into West African history, land rights and climate impact on its indigenous communities, fostering a dialogue between historical reverence and visionary insight. Through imaginative storytelling, Attafuah challeges conventional viewpoints and incites reflection, offering commentary on transcending historical bounds. Her avant-garde blend of cultural reflections with futuristic aesthetics establishes this work as a conversation between past legacies and speculative horizons, towards a reimagined future."

BONUS: Maria Fernanda Cardoso's Butterfly Drawings - Morpho didius (Peru) (2004, archival butterfly wings, acrylic, silicone and metal)

Description: "First, I wanted to be a scientist but I used more the model of theRenaissance artist, like Leonardo, which was scientist and artist. So lwent into art thinking that I could do both, I could do art and science." - Maria Fernanda Cardoso

"Maria Fernanda Cardoso is renowned for her use of unconventional materials, which often include symbolically charged elements from the natural world. ...a selection of the artist's butterfly drawings, featuring the insect's delicate wings arranged in mandala-like patterns. Underpinning these works is a system of geometry and repetition. The drawings invite us to look more closely and reflect on our complex relationship to the natural world."

[audio-luddite]

Some very special LPs

Back in ancient times there was an LP club like a book club who would send you new albums every month based on a flat rate which was really cheap. Based in New York it was the "Musical Heritage Society." Great value and high quality music.

They secured copies of less popular recordings mostly from Europe's smaller labels. I have a few of these. Each has a story. They are all really good quality. I do not know who mastered them or pressed them, but vinyl was still king back then. Well done vinyl.

So first I played " History of Spanish music volume 16" there is an included booklet that goes into some depth about the history of the Vihuela. They go into detail about how a Vihuela is not a lute but is actually the daddy of a guitar. Or more precisely the guitar is a Vihuela with fewer strings. The music is 15th Century and lovely.

The recording is excellent with great tone in the solo Vihuela and the mezzo-soprano singer for about half the tracks. Recorded in Spain no surprise.

Next up was MHS "Indian flutes harps and guitars" a collection of native music from the Andean parts of South America. It is unique and interesting and not "latin" but genuine native music from those nations. I enjoyed the listen as it had been a long time and the system sounded phenomenal.

Now there is a story here.

Not that long ago (yes decades) when there were loops of music videos playing on the TV a new release came up. I saw yet another blonde bikini clad bimbo appear and thought oh not another one. Too many Britanny Clones! Then the music started and it was way different. It wasn't pop blah blah it was Andean! WTF! It turned out to be Shakira born in Columbia from Lebanese Parents who had absorbed the music of the natives and wove it into something unique.

https://youtu.be/weRHyjj34ZE

Hey it did not hurt that she was cute, but smart with something like 7 languages and writing lyrics in most of them. I became a fan because I liked that authentic Andean music, and later Arabic music. I liked it because of this record club in New York. Did I mention she is cute?

The music heritage society has recently been re-animated from death. Their catalog is being built back and they have a lot of unique and interesting stuff.

Less good ways to waste time are available.

[konstruktivenachrichten]

Der peruanische Sänger Lenin Tamayo verbindet K-Pop mit Quechua, um die Andenkultur zu feiern.

[pumpkin-magpie]

A

For a teeny bit of lore

- Flynn has asthma and he worked with the volcano cats to improve and expand treatment ( way more on that some other time. )

- RumbleStar and her clan kinda evolved to be like walruses. Also her warrior name was RumbleThroat to honor her optimism and gentleness but younger cats who hadn’t known her then think the name is scary

- Stone-Singer’s tribe’s culture kinda mixed with the ocean cat’s so a lot of usual tribe rules ( especially stoneteller/singer rules ) ended up getting dropped at some point. Also Stone-Singer and RumbleStar are in a not-so-secret relationship that everyone in their respective groups noticed, but they don’t give a shit because it means less war.

- Flynn’s name is seen as very cool and sometimes spiritual by the cats ( there’s a myth about a cat throwing fire into the sky to make the sun ) but Flynn was really just named by a super funny twoleg

- not too much on the desert duo other than that Ingot is based on an Andean mountain cat and Glare on a sand cat

set of warrior cat clans that live here

[andeanbeauties]

Milena Warthon, Andean-pop singer 💜⛰️💜

[soulinfire-official]

Víctor Lidio Jara Martínez was a Chilean teacher, theater director, poet, singer-songwriter and communist political activist, tortured and killed during the dictatorship of Augusto Pinochet. Jara was arrested shortly after the Chilean coup of 11 September 1973, which overthrew Allende. He was tortured during interrogations and ultimately shot dead, and his body was thrown out on the street of a shantytown in Santiago. The contrast between the themes of his songs—which focused on love, peace, and social justice—and the brutal way in which he was murdered transformed Jara into a "potent symbol of struggle for human rights and justice". Visit: www.soulinfire.com WhatsApp: https://wa.me/919944542499?text=Hi+Sanjeevan Contact +91-9944542499 for commissioned artworks. Gift your loved ones with their portrait!

[burlveneer-music]

Timpana - Gwandena - lush folktronica, with the folk being from the Andean and Amazonian regions of South America

TIMPANA creates her own sound based on native vocal techniques from Bolivia and the world.

Since 2009 with her debut album Alma Perdida she has come with a world music influence that now with Gwandena she experiments even more with electronic elements and sounds, indigenous instruments, native songs in Spanish, Quechua and Guarani, with a strong Afro Andean Amazonian influence.

On Gwandena, the Bolivian artist TIMPANA maps out a metaphysical journey across her home country, and through various states of being. Indigenous and African instrumentation meet electronic drums and synths on an album that veers between moments of slowly-revealing transcendence and urgent, rhythmic cries as the world appears different to how we ever imagined it. TIMPANA began as a duo, but has been the solo project of artist, performer and musician Alejandra Lanza for over 10 years. Gwandena is the first solo album in this iteration, and sees Lanza working with fellow Bolivian producer Chuntu, as well as fellow masters of Afro-Andean wind and percussion instruments. Together they have created a work that is complex in both its musical construction – being that it references and merges rhythms and cadences from the Andes, Amazon and Afro-Latin traditions – and in its narrative. Gwandena tells the story of Talina, a young girl on a journey of self-knowledge. She is guided by a hummingbird called Jovi and must come face-to-face with herself, but not in a way she ever planned.

TIMPANA and Gwandena’s producer, Chuntu, were both featured in Bandcamp’s spotlight on Bolivian music earlier this year as artists pivotal in contributing to and promoting “Bolivia’s rich artistic universe”, and Gwandena is their finest statement of intent yet, an album that draws from Bolivia’s myriad traditions and belief systems, with a vocal performance that is sure to earn Lanza plaudits as one of Latin America’s finest singers and interpreters. It’s also an album that can hold its own against the best folktronica and other contemporary iterations of pan-Latin identity being made right now. Ale Lanza: vocals, percussion and samplers Chuntu: keyboards, synths and samplers Luciel Izumi: ronroco on “Jovi”; charango on “Gwandena” and “Pájaro”. Cucó Pachá Kutí: toyos, quenas, quenachos and other wind instruments, and percussion, on “Jovi”, “Gwandena”, “Pájaro” and “Espejo”. Miguel Crespo: wankara and caja on “Jovi”; bombo on “Espejo”. Amado Espinoza: djembé and seed shaker on “Estrella Brillosa”, “Gwandena” and “Amayu”. TIMPANA is a founding member of Primavera Anónima, a social impact-driven creative collective founded digitally in Shanghai. Current projects raise funds for digital health projects in El Alto, Bolivia.

[appassaddle]

In worldbuilding, one of the best touchstones you can give people is in arts. Music is especially great because it’s one of the longest lasting sense-memories people have, so giving that to your fictional characters makes them that much more real and relatable. ATLA, as a great fantasy world, makes great use of this (how many times have you sung a song from the show? be honest.) so this is a list of possible musical influences that could be part of the various nations outside of the music we’re given in-show. The musical possibilities with bending and having benders has just... so much cool potentital, because look at what we’ve got without even having powers!

Check it:

Earth kingdom – lithophones

The Earth Kingdom would have absolutely sick lithophones (instruments made from resonating stone).

Lithophones are also some of the oldest dated musical instruments, going back to prehistoric times, and can be found in locations/cultures around the globe (singing/ringing/sonic/resonant rocks of different types are everywhere) in both natural and man-made settings. (Musical caves/stalactite organs vs carved or shaped settings)

Some examples:

Bianqing: (also known as qing, biên khánh in Vietnam, and pyeongyeong in Korea) A stone gong originating from China, played in a set (or singular) hung on racks, with a characteristic angular shape. (Not to be confused with bianzhong, which are metal bells, often played together with bianqing.)

          [example] [example] [example]

Ðàn đá: a stone mallet instrument from the western/central highlands of Viet Nam. They are a historic instrument and got a revival in the 1950s, so they are fairly common in the modern era as well.

          [example] [example]

          If you’re interested in checking out the work of Viet musicologists, check out their website: https://www.vienamnhac.vn/home-page

For a look into how stone based instruments can be made, check out this report from a small town in Japan that specializes in a specific type of musical stone (sanukite): https://www.kensanpin.org/en/report/no47/

Some examples of instruments made from sanukite: [example] [example]

(I can also totally see towns in the EK having stones specific to their region and their local musical tone.)

Post metalbending revolution they would probably partner up with…

The Fire Nation likely has a strong lean towards metallophones. In Western music the most well known of these would be vibraphones, glockenspiels, and bells. (In the ATLA soundtrack, a notable metallic sound is Azula’s signature sting.) But for the FN, more likely influences could be along the lines of:

Gamelan: this is a genre/type of ensemble from Indonesia, the main three styles being Javanese, Balinese, and Sudanese. (Styles depend on island of origin and cultural purposes.) It has a rich history and cultural importance that cannot be done justice in a few lines her, but it’s absolutely amazing music. Gamelan is used for religious/spiritual purposes, dance, puppeteering/storytelling, theater, general concerts, community gathers, and more. Ensembles range in size and instrumentation, but the main timbre is in the various metallophones (barred, gongs, cymbals, etc.), as well as drums, strings, woodwinds, and singers. [example] [example] [example]

[If you’re interested in learning more, the Wikipedia page https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gamelan actually has whole video modules via youtube to learn about the various styles of gamelan and multiple sources both print and online to access!]

Steelpan/steel drums: Originating from Trinidad and Tobago, these instruments have a very universal popularity for their bright tone and accessibility. There are many variations on steelpan such as the hang drum, handpan, steel tongue drum, and others. [example] [example] [example]

For the polar Water Tribes, I’d imagine they’d have a much stronger oral/vocal tradition than instrumental, with the exception being portable/durable instruments like hands drums, bone flutes, etc. (So this section is a little less instrument based and more appropriate vibes.)

Vocal/oral tradition: It’s hard to find a culture that doesn’t have some form of oral or sung tradition, but with the cultural influences behind the Water Tribes, I’d guess that a strong tradition would be in throat singing. Throat singing is found in multiple indigenous cultures around the world with various styles of overtone singing (producing more than one tone at once). Some examples are:

Inuit - [one] [two]

Tuvan (Mongolian) - [one] [two] [obligatory plug for The Hu bc they are some of the coolest people on the planet]

Tibetan - [one] [two]

Italian - [one] [two]

Ainu - [one] [two]

Tan Dun, Water Music: Tan Dun is a composer who has done film scores and currently focuses on what he calls “organic music” where the main focus is using naturally occurring materials/sounds. [performance]

Water drumming: One of the coolest ensemble performances, just straight up using water as an instrument. These examples are from Vanuatu and the Baka people of Cameroon. [one] [two] [three] [four] [five]

Sea Organ: Located in Zader, Croatia, this experimental instrument is played by the tides and waves. [video]

Hand drums/frame drums: these styles of drums can be found around the world, throw a dart at a map and there’s probably a style of hand drum from there. They are among the simplest style of drum to make, needing a round frame and hide to stretch over it. Here are just a few examples: [one] [two] [three] [four] [five] [six]

Air Nomads probably had a hug musical tradition between the temples, skybison herding, and traveling. Both singing and wind instruments were probably very popular (we see Aang being able to play multiple instruments). Simple flutes make good travel instruments and being able to share news and information via song when stopping at towns would be a valued skill (in communities before reading was a common skill, it would usually fall to either dedicated criers or bards to pass along information in an understandable and memorable way).

Singing/chants: Learning songs from around the nations would be fun for those who travel, it’s easy to imagine an informal song competition for the most variety or strangest or most locations or dirtiest ones learned during their travels. But given the strong influence of Tibetan Buddhism on the Air Nomads, some traditional Tibetan vocal music examples (a couple of other examples are under the Water Tribe section as well)- [one] [two] [three] [four] [five]

(Tibetan musical notation is also regarded as some of the most beautiful in the world, I’d strongly recommend taking a look.)

Sheng- This is a free-reed mouth organ from China and it has an incredibly long history. Traditional shengs are handheld with few keys, more modern versions vary in size, number of pipes, and keys. It’s a pretty delightful instrument imo. [one] [two] [three]

Panflute: There a lots of different kinds of panflutes found around the world, the most famous being the Greek and Peruvian styles. Some different kinds include paixiao (China), wot (Laos, northern Thailand), nai (Romania, Moldova), siku (Andean), and kuvytsi (Slavic). Variations include the cut of pipes to produce the sound, arrangement of the pipes, and materials used.[siku] [paixiao] [wot 1] [wot 2]

It would also be very cool to have carvings into the mountains that could be played by airbending oh man.

All of these are, of course, just barely dipping a toe into the vast amounts of beautiful musical cultures out there, but hopefully it helps inform and build on what is there. If something tickles your fancy, please feel free to go digging and find more about it! (If you aren’t sure where to start, I’m happy to help, just drop me a line and I can at least point you in the right direction. I make no claim to be any kind of expert here, but I can get you to them!)

[inspector2ndclass]

The Mechanisms as Random Birds I Found on the Internet

Did anyone want this? No. Do I know anything about birds? Also no. Anyways, here’s a shitpost I spent way too long on.

Jonny d’Ville: Northern Mockingbird

First and foremost, here’s Jonny! An asshole! A bastard! An all around terrible person! He shall be a northern mockingbird. This fucking bird has no redeemable qualities other than that it is pretty and a GREAT singer. This is a very aggressive bird. Very territorial. If it had opposable thumbs, it would probably shoot you in like the foot or something. I don’t think these birds are very smart. Just like a certain “captain” that we know. The state bird of Texas, among all places. Never trust a texas. In true Texas fashion, the 1927 legislation declaring the Northern Mockingbird the state’s official bird stated that the species is “a fighter for the protection of his home, falling, if need be, in its defence, like any true texan.” Now Jonny burned down a Texas - maybe not this Texas but whatever. I read somewhere that a mockingbird could peck someone’s dick off, and honestly? Valid.

Gunpowder Tim: Southern Cassowary

Okay, hear me out. This bird is a little bitch - or rather a b i g bitch. In a good way. Look at this fucking bird. It’s majestic. Doesn’t it look just SO trustworthy. What a trustworthy man. And very pretty. Pretty, pretty bird. Who could squash you like a fucking ant. This is one Violent bird. Tim is one Violent person. The cassowary makes a low roaring sound like a fucking dinosaur. I love dinosaurs. DID I MENTION IT LAYS GREEN EGGS. Now you might say, well Tim is a human and humans don’t lay green eggs. Fuck you. It’s never explicitly stated that our very own Gunpowder Tim doesn’t lay green eggs. Also comes with a built-in helmet. As everyone except Tim and the southern cassowary says, safety first! Strikes me as a very egotistical bird. If the cassowary weren’t a bird, I don’t think it would wear a seatbelt.

Ashes O’Reilly: California Condor

Okay, so. This is a cool fucking bird. Just look at it. M a j e s t i c. Do you know who else is really fucking cool? Ashes. They have so much power. Also condors are beautiful birds. Oh my god. California condors are very graceful fliers. For Ashes, I almost went with the brown falcon - one of “Nature’s arsonists”, but other than arson, it’s a rather boring bird. Just brown. And a falcon. BUT THE CALIFORNIA CONDOR. Now that’s a cool bird. The god of the sky. Actually, in the “research” for this post I found a blog post in 2011 from someone who has genuinely worshipped condors as gods since they were a teenager and honestly? Valid. (disclaimer; I am aware that many native cultures worship animals and nature, however I don’t feel qualified to talk about that. I don’t mean any harm by this post.)

DrumBot Brian: Shoebill Stork

Well. I did have a rather difficult time finding a bird that has a complex set of moral values. Who would’ve thought?? I did almost use a praying mantis, just for a little variety. I’ve never met someone who wouldn’t rip off the head of their lover. BUT ANYWAYS. Here we have Brian the Shoebill Stork. He looks so nice. But he will not hesitate to decapitate your baby crocodile. Also very patient!! Like a dinosaur! This bird has the most complex set of moral values of any bird I could find in about thirty seconds. If Brian didn’t decapitate so many young crocodiles there would be much too many! Too many crocodiles! The horror! I’ve also seen a gif of Boring Brian delicately picking up a duckling and placing it back down. Dunno what happened after, though. Don’t ask. Apparently the shoebill stork makes “machine-gun noises” which I think Jonny would enjoy fucking around with. A place that I forgot to write down reportedly called the bird “Abu-Markhub” meaning “father of the slipper” which,,,, yeah.

Raphaella la Cognizi: Kea

Also known as the “clown of the alps”, the Kea resides in the mountains, as the only alpine parrot. Pretty cool. I want to be a clown. But like, a cool clown - not one that hides in a sewer and eats children… Anyways, I’m getting off topic. The kea is the smartest bird I could find. Raphaella is the science officer of the Aurora so it seemed fitting. Look at this photo. That’s science at work! Kea can use basic tools! And reportedly have the intelligence of a four-year-old child! That’s pretty smart! Also it has wings! Raph has wings! Apparently kea enjoy attacking sheep, dogs, horses, etc. and just generally fuck around with people. Imagine what this bird could do with opposable thumbs…

Marius von Raum: Victoria Crowned Pigeon

My criteria for Bird Marius was essentially a stupid looking bird with a ridiculously long name. I was originally going to go with the King of Saxony Bird of Paradise solely for the name (just look at it! It’s so dumb! Who the fuck is the king of saxony!) however it bored me. So! Here we have Doctor Baron Marius von Raum as the Victoria Crowned Pigeon (also sometimes referred to as the Blue Crowned Pigeon). Genuinely, this was my favourite bird as a child. I fucking love this funky little bastard. Apparently, it’s the largest pigeon species in the world and can grow to be the size of a turkey. A turkey! What the fuck! This bird thinks it’s all that. (I mean, it’s not wrong). It was named after Queen Victoria but like,,,,, Fuck The Monarchy. Also eats a lot of figs. The bird - not the queen. Or maybe the queen I dunno. Marius seems like the kind of person who hates figs but eats them anyways so he doesn’t feel inferior to the Fig Lord. How the fuck is this bird not extinct yet.

Ivy Alexandria: Common Raven

Ivy Alexandria, the Common Raven. Ravens are extremely smart! Like seriously - near where I live, there’s an animal shelter with a raven and you can hold a conversation with it. It’s amazing! They also have great memories and hold grudges - so don’t mess with them. Oh! They can also use hand gestures, which for birds is insanely cool! They are the literal “birdbrain”. Sometimes they collect little trinkets, which I think is really sweet. Now, I don’t believe ravens can read but like,,,,, I dunno. I read an article recently about ravens doing “weird things with ants”. Apparently they like to play with them. Ravens have been known to sit in an anthill and let ants crawl all over their feathers for no apparent reason. Now, while nothing has been canonically stated involving Ivy and ants, you can’t prove Ivy doesn’t go sit and hang out with a bunch of ants.

Nastya Rasputina: Andean Potoo

The Andean Potoo is the most mysterious breed of the seven or so potoo species; almost nothing is known other than their vague appearance and their stomach contents (large insects like beetles and grasshoppers, if you were interested). While we do know quite a bit about Nastya, I thought this bird fit her pretty well. In answer to the question “Are potoos friendly?” a website said: “The short answer is ‘no’. The slightly longer answer is ‘it depends’.” This sounds like Nastya and her lesbian spaceship girlfriend. Potoos are VERY good at camouflage; like Nastya in Aurora’s veins?? I dunno, might be a bit of a stretch. They are shy, secretive birds. Sounds fun. Potoos are also VERY good at catching insects and shit. This point might not be relevant, but whatever. Andean potoos might mate for life; scientists don’t know. Let’s say that they do. If Nastya were this bird, she could be eaten by a weasel. Weasels said fuck Nastya rights. Fuck weasels.

The Toy Soldier: Atlantic Puffin

OH MY GOD. I love the Toy Soldier. The Atlantic Puffin. I don’t have many reasons for this one other that IT’S ADORABLE. This is my favourite bird. Just look at it!!! Hnnnnnnn. Baby puffins are called pufflingssssss. Oh my god. Also look up the bird call of the atlantic puffin; it is the best thing ever. Puffins are very sociable birds and live in like giant flocks or something. They’re very neat birds and also waterproof! Like wood! They shed the outer layer of their beaks once a year! Like wood! They live in burrows! Like wood! They can hold a fuck ton of fish in their beaks! Like wood! They have a really fucking wierd tongue! Like wood!

BONUS: Dr. Carmilla: Lammergier (Bearded Vulture)

Do I know anything about Dr. Carmilla? Nope! I think she’s a vampire but like???? Anyways, just look at this bird. It’s pretty self-explanatory. The Lammergeier is one Badass Bird. It is one of the largest old-world vultures. I don’t know what that means. It can grow up to four feet tall, though! And has a wingspan between seven and nine feet. That’s a big fucking bird! They have no natural predators, much like a certain immortal vampire (maybe???). It eats primarily bone and bone marrow and has a nasty habit of carrying off lambs, calves, and dead children. Remind you of the Good Doctor and her Band? Probably not. I bet Jonny has eaten at least one dead child, though. The lammergeier can also live up to the ripe old age of 45 (old in bird years?). Supposedly a lammergeier killed the greek playwright Aeschelus by mistaking his large bald head for a rock and dropping a turtle on it. Sounds very Carmilla. BUT WAIT I HAVEN’T GOTTEN TO THE BEST PART. This bird dies it’s fur the colour of blood to look more intimidating! Supposedly this is a mark of status, as well. That’s one badass bird!!!

WELL THAT WAS AN ADVENTURE. A useless adventure, sure. Fuck you. I had fun.

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

Nyctibius

Common Potoo by Gmmv1980, CC BY-SA 4.0 

Etymology: Night Feeder

First Described By: Vieillot, 1816

Classification: Dinosauromorpha, Dinosauriformes, Dracohors, Dinosauria, Saurischia, Eusaurischia, Theropoda, Neotheropoda, Averostra, Tetanurae, Orionides, Avetheropoda, Coelurosauria, Tyrannoraptora, Maniraptoromorpha, Maniraptoriformes, Maniraptora, Pennaraptora, Paraves, Eumaniraptora, Averaptora, Avialae, Euavialae, Avebrevicauda, Pygostaylia, Ornithothoraces, Euornithes, Ornithuromorpha, Ornithurae, Neornithes, Neognathae, Neoaves, Strisores, Caprimulgiformes, Nyctibiidae

Referred Species: N. bracteatus (Rufous Potoo), N. grandis (Great Potoo), N. aethereus (Long-Tailed Potoo), N. leucopterus (White-Winged Potoo), N. maculosus (Andean Potoo), N. griseus (Common Potoo), N. jamaicensis (Northern Potoo)

Status: Extant, Least Concern

Time and Place: From 12,000 years ago through today, in the Holocene of the Quaternary 

Potoos are known from Central and South America, around the Equator 

Physical Description: Potoos are some of the weirdest birds alive today, looking about as ridiculous and muppet-like as any bird can really look. I’m honestly not sure if there is another living dinosaur that looks more like a muppet - and, of course, we don’t know if any extinct dinosaurs could have taken home the gold. The only probable and possible contender is the Frogmouth, which may just be the slightest amount more muppet-like, but it’s a close contest. They have distinctive faces, that are more feather than underlying tissue - their beaks stick out a bit, with a small hooked beak at the end. They have a large mouth, covered in fluff. Their eyes have a general sunken in appearance, which makes them look very large compared to the rest of the face. Their heads are very large compared to the rest of their bodies, and they have long bodies with short wings and long, fluffy tails. So, when they stand up, they look… well, they look like a stump, or a log standing up. They can then make themselves skinnier, which makes their eyes stand out compared to the rest of their bodies… which gives them the general appearance of a completely ridiculous animal. They can range in size from 21 to 58 centimeters, and range in color from reddish brown, to more orange brown, to more grey in color. This genus is not sexually dimorphic, though some species have variants in color. 

By Charles J. Sharp, CC BY-SA 4.0 

Diet: Potoos eat a lot of insects - from beetles to moths, to mantids, ants, termites, cicadas, leafhoppers, and grasshoppers. 

Rufous Potoo by Eric Gropp, CC BY 2.0 

Behavior: Potoos will hunt by standing extremely still on their perches - often, again, making themselves to look like a continuous log - and waiting for food to appear. Since they’re nocturnal, they are easily missed by the insects, as they blend into the background around them. Then, when they spot the prey, they launch forward, jutting forward to catch the insects and swallow them. Some species are more clumsy in this endeavor than others, though some are able to make leaps over several meters in order to grab the food they desire. They then return to the same post, returning to their previous log-like stillness as they wait for more food to appear. They’ll look around for the food by turning their heads rapidly from side to side - weirdly like owls, though they are not closely related to them at all. These perches can be only one meter off the ground, or up to 19 meters, depending on the forest around the potoo in question. 

Common Potoo by the American Bird Conservancy 

Potoos aren’t the most musical or birds, but they are loud - they make harsh, guttural “bwa-bwa-bwa” calls, similar to laughing or wailing. They can also make drawn out, descending rasps, that are… somewhat more musical at least. They tend to make their sounds mostly at dusk, right before dawn, and also on moonlit nights - so when it is Dark, but not too dark. These sounds, of course, do vary from species to species. There are some courtship calls, including descended calls made by females during the mating ritual, but they aren’t a major feature of these events. So, instead of picturing the great wolves as your moonlight singers, remember: the Potoos can and WILL be making these weird urts, laughs, and whistles, every time the moon is full and out in the sky. Potoos do not migrate, but they do appear to move sporadically in response to season changes and mating territory disturbances. 

Long-Tailed Potoo by Lee R. Berger, CC BY-SA 3.0 

As for nesting, Potoos are not… fantastic at the prospect, because of their tiny legs and weird, weird beaks. This makes them not great at both sitting on the nest and feeding the chicks. Still, they do it anyway, and clearly well enough since they aren’t endangered with extinction. They are monogamous, with both parents working together to incubate the egg and raise the chick, and they don’t build a nest - instead, the egg is laid in a depression on the branch, usually on top of a rotting stump. The male incubates the egg during the day, while the female will do so with the male at night. The chick is hidden almost entirely through camouflage. They hatch about a month later, and then stay in the nest for two more months, being protected by the parents and fed by them as well. They look… like clumps of fungus. Hiding underneath the log of their parents. The parents will defend themselves and the nest with mobbing behavior, crowding a predator and dive bombing it, and also calling at it loudly. In short, these birds are a Giant, Giant mess of Chaos. 

White-Winged Potoo by Mark Sutton 

Ecosystem: Potoos are known primarily from rainforests, and can be found at any level of the forest - some Potoos are known from the understorey, some from the middle, and some from the canopy - it really depends. They’re also found in very swampy forests, depending on the species and the habitats in question. They tend to stick to where there are easily accessible sources of water, regardless, especially rivers and lakes in the jungle. They stick to the deep interior of the forest, not venturing to forest edges much unless driven to by necessity. Some species are also found in mountain forest habitats. They have few natural predators after reaching adult size, though the young are hunted upon by monkeys and falcons. 

Andean Potoo by Isirvio, CC BY-SA 2.0 

Other: Potoos are a part of the Stirsorians, a group of WEIRD BIRDS that are adapted for a variety of extremely unique ecological niches, usually depending on their flight style. Close relatives of the Potoo include the Frogmouth, Nightjars, Oilbirds, Swifts, and Hummingbirds, among others. Potoos are highly adapted for their nocturnal lifestyle, adapted to blend in with their forested surroundings above all else. None are threatened with extinction at this time, though of course some species are rarer than others, and all are vulnerable to climate change and extensive habitat destruction in the American Rainforests. They are also quite uncommon birds, which of course affects their vulnerability as well. 

Northern Potoo by Dominic Sherony, CC BY-SA 2.0 

Species Differences: The different species of Potoo vary mainly on size, coloration, habitat, and location. The Rufous Potoo is one of the most notable, being very red in color and also the smallest species; it is known from northern Amazonia, in the middle and lower storeys of the forest. Great Potoos are the heaviest species, and greyish to yellowish brown; they are found in the canopy of Amazonia. The Long-Tailed Potoo is the longest species, and is a darker brown; it is found in lowland forest in Amazonia. The White-Winged Potoo has - you guessed it - white wings, and is small in size; it is found in the canopy of lowland Amazonia rainforest. The Andean Potoo is very dark and Extremely Muppety, and is found in mountain forests in the Andes Mountains. The Common Potoo is the most middle brown of them all and very middle in size, so the Averagest Potoo of them All; it is found in wet open woodland, usually at forest edges and the canopy, throughout Northern South America. The Northern Potoo is similar to the Common Potoo but usually larger, and it is also found in forest edges, but in Central America and the Carribean.

~ By Meig Dickson

Sources Under the Cut 

Clements, J. F., T. S. Schulenberg, M. J. Iliff, D. Roberson, T. A. Fredericks, B. L. Sullivan, and C. L. Wood. 2017. The eBird/Clements checklist of birds of the world: v2017.  

Cohn-Haft, M. (2019). Andean Potoo (Nyctibius maculosus). In: del Hoyo, J., Elliott, A., Sargatal, J., Christie, D.A. & de Juana, E. (eds.). Handbook of the Birds of the World Alive. Lynx Edicions, Barcelona.

Cohn-Haft, M. (2019). Common Potoo (Nyctibius griseus). In: del Hoyo, J., Elliott, A., Sargatal, J., Christie, D.A. & de Juana, E. (eds.). Handbook of the Birds of the World Alive. Lynx Edicions, Barcelona.

Cohn-Haft, M. & Kirwan, G.M. (2019). Great Potoo (Nyctibius grandis). In: del Hoyo, J., Elliott, A., Sargatal, J., Christie, D.A. & de Juana, E. (eds.). Handbook of the Birds of the World Alive. Lynx Edicions, Barcelona.  

Cohn-Haft, M. & Kirwan, G.M. (2019). Long-tailed Potoo (Nyctibius aethereus). In: del Hoyo, J., Elliott, A., Sargatal, J., Christie, D.A. & de Juana, E. (eds.). Handbook of the Birds of the World Alive. Lynx Edicions, Barcelona.

Cohn-Haft, M. & Kirwan, G.M. (2019). Northern Potoo (Nyctibius jamaicensis). In: del Hoyo, J., Elliott, A., Sargatal, J., Christie, D.A. & de Juana, E. (eds.). Handbook of the Birds of the World Alive. Lynx Edicions, Barcelona.

Cohn-Haft, M. & Kirwan, G.M. (2019). Rufous Potoo (Nyctibius bracteatus). In: del Hoyo, J., Elliott, A., Sargatal, J., Christie, D.A. & de Juana, E. (eds.). Handbook of the Birds of the World Alive. Lynx Edicions, Barcelona.

Cohn-Haft, M. (2019). White-winged Potoo (Nyctibius leucopterus). In: del Hoyo, J., Elliott, A., Sargatal, J., Christie, D.A. & de Juana, E. (eds.). Handbook of the Birds of the World Alive. Lynx Edicions, Barcelona.

[greywindys]

A little side-story from “The Answer” for @sashkash. The idea of Murdoc meeting some alpacas was too much to resist!

I’m not sure this will work as a standalone fic if you haven’t read the entire story, but you’re still welcome to read it if you’re interested! For some context, this takes place in two parts: the first is during the time Murdoc spent in Peru in chapter 21 after dispeling a family curse, and the second is when he returns with Noodle and Russel. At the start of this particular story, he’s just gone through 20 chapters of stress and anguish while on a long search for his mother, which went on with 2D. TA is a 2Doc fic, so there’s some reference to their relationship. 2D is physically absent but psychologically present. HOWEVER, the main point of all of this is that Murdoc meets and bonds with some alpacas 😭 8000 words of alpacas because I have issues! This fic also contains an OC, Victor, who is Murdoc’s mother’s friend from childhood. At this point in the story, Murdoc’s staying with him.

Fic under the cut!

It had been a few days since Murdoc said goodbye to his mother for the last time, and he was beginning to look at his life as two separate stages. There was the life he had when he didn't know her ("before Mum"), and the life that began after he woke up confused and directionless on the bank of the river ("after Mum"). 48 hours later, he still feels the frigid temperature of the water and the aches in his body. Every morning he questions who he is and how he still exists. His mind races and scrambles from one subject to another, trying to make sense of what he had just survived, until the rest of him shuts down, and he resigns himself to the old man's couch for the entire day. 

"How are you feeling today?" 

Victor. Right. That was his name. 

Murdoc is sitting in a chair at his table today, staring at a plate of scrambled egg and sausage he assumes is meant for him to eat. 

Your name is Murdoc. You're sitting in the kitchen with Victor, you're mum's friend from childhood. You feel the sun on your face through the window. You smell the eggs and sausage in front of you. 

"I..." Every part of him seems to weighed down in the chair heavy with words and emotions that would tell his story to the man sitting across from him if only he could find the strength to do so. What happened to me? He wants to ask. When am I going to feel better? It had left bits and pieces of itself all over him. His skin still burned from its touch. His heart raced when he imagined it behind him, waiting. The fork in his hand quivers with the rest of him, making small clangs as it hits the plate. He stares at it. The bones in his hand and wrist are sharply defined from the months he spent too anxious to eat. There was so little of him left, and he wonders if he isn't just a hollow frame of a person. He had defeated it, and that gave him some relief, but he doesn't know what he's supposed to do inside a body that remembered so much. 

Shadows dance across the table as people in the street pass by. They seem to reach out toward him with their curved outlines, like talons. His eyes follow them in a brief panic until he repeats his mantra to himself internally. 

His mother's friend regards him with an understanding smile. "Don't rush yourself. But please try to eat something." He then returns to reading the paper, and a comfortable silence falls over the room. 

Murdoc pokes the food around on his plate with his fork for another minute before he attempts a bite. He chews and swallows. He repeats the process again, and then again. Gradually, he begins to notice his stomach growling and the flavor of the food on his tongue and how satisfying it is to swallow it down. Baby steps, he thinks to himself, baby steps.

___________________________________________________________

The first body parts that start working again are his feet.

At least once a day, he finds himself leaving the house, choosing a street in the neighborhood and walking until his feet are sore, or his injured left leg weakens. His walks aren't scheduled. Sometimes he goes out in the afternoon, and other days, when he can't sleep, he leaves before the sun is up. Through these spontaneous and purposeless excursions, he begins to learn about the city. 

One street takes him through a large, outdoor market. Immediately, he's taken in by the smells, sounds, and colors. His feet take him past the food vendors, with all kinds of meats and produce decorating their tables. 

Mamacos, he reads on a sign above one bin. He quickly recognizes its contents as large ants and stares at them, wide-eyed, for at least a full minute.

It isn't the only unfamiliar or surprising cuisine he finds. He learns about Paiche, an Amazonian fish that can grow over two meters long, and llama jerky, and sliced cow heart. Then there are the fruits: the bright yellow pitahaya, the sour maracuya, and the smelly noni being among the most memorable. His interest piqued and his adventurous side reawakened, he impulsively buys a selection of the fruits and meats that day and eats them on a bench just outside the market. 

Before he can stop himself, he thinks about Stu, and how comically disgusted he would be.

And he thought the guinea pig was bad. 

His cheeks burn, and his heart thumps in his chest. He gulps the aching feeling of yearning down with his mouthful of Paiche.

Next, he wanders into the clothing section. The colors in this aisle are overwhelmingly vivid, like the inside of a kaleidoscope. He finds himself drawn to the intricate patterns of the blankets and ponchos at one table. 

He had a poncho in Detroit that he wore to one of their video shoots promoting solar energy. It was the first time he had sported such a garment and hadn't thought much of it after that. Now, however, he stares at them with a new curiosity. Tentatively, he reaches out a hand and takes the fabric of one of the ponchos in his hand. It's heavy and warm and comforting. As a smile emerges on his face, he thinks of her. 

The vendor greets him and asks him something in Spanish. He can only make out a couple of words. 

"Oh, er, just doing some window shopping," he says. "But, Gracias." Thank you was the only phrase he could say on the spot. 

The vendor looks at him, seemingly surprised by his accent and the way he fumbles his words. He replies in more words that Murdoc can't make out. He's friendly and accommodating, but the damage had been done. It was in these moments that it was impossible to ignore the internal voice of his that called him an outsider. He was in his fifties now, his memory was damaged by age and alcohol use, his trust in others was shaky at best. Cultivating any sort of connection outside of the tiny thread provided by Victor seemed to be an impossibility. 

He drops the fabric and waves the vendor off. "Never mind, mate. I've got other places to be." 

But he walks the same way the next day, only this time to the neighborhood beyond. The next day, he tries another direction and then another. Soon the sounds of the city become familiar from the chatter to the street music ranging from Andean folk music to top 40 hits from the 90s. He comes to know the smell of picarones and anticuchos. He cherishes the strength of the sun and the way the dust from the street clings to his skin after hours of walking.

Still, the words wouldn't come, not in conversation and not on paper. There was small talk, and between himself and Victor there was plenty of it. Murdoc would tell him about the food he tried that day, about the sloth he saw crawling through the town square. He would show him the bottle of pisco he picked up at the liquor store down the street. In return, Victor would talk to him about his shop, the neighborhood gossip, and Murdoc's mother. 

Murdoc adored those stories but they didn't make it any easier to talk about what had happened in the jungle. Yet the experience still stirred inside him. He would ignore it if he could, but its presence leaves him tense and discontent.

Eventually, he braves their public transportation with a few Peruvian soles, a bottle of rum, and the journal Stu bought him at the gas station in Texas. He has no direction in mind, only a goal to find somewhere quiet enough to sort out his thoughts.

Alone.

He shudders but acknowledges the thought. He was more alone than he ever had been, and it was likely that his life would stay this way after what he said to Stu. 

Stu.

He sinks deeper into his seat and tries to distract himself by staring out the window. He was alone, and he was changing. But he still loved to write songs and chat about himself and his interest in music. Those parts of himself were still there, and he needed to find them. He had to accomplish that before he could confront what he had done to his relationship with the singer.

The final stop at the bus leaves him in a clearing surrounded by a selection of dirt paths. He chooses one at random, and it takes him deeper into the woods. Around him, hears the drone of insects and the chatter of birds and other unidentifiable creatures hidden in the leaves. 

"It's not much quieter here than in town," he mutters to himself. 

After another five minutes of walking, the trees begin to thin, and the path on which he's walking becomes more defined. Next, a fence with heavy wood lap rails catches his eye. The sight seems to awaken the pain in his leg and brings his attention to his sore feet. The heeled boots he elected to wear weren't the best for spontaneous hiking. Spurred forward by the need for relief, he climbs onto the top rail of the fence and sits. 

The field in front of him is a deep green, rich from the water from the heavy rain from earlier in the week. And as he had hoped, there were no other people in sight. Perfect. He admires the view for a moment and takes out his journal. 

However, it doesn't take long for the forest to provide its own interruptions. 

He only manages to write a few words and a poorly done sketch of a tree before he hears it. It's a high-pitched screech, a sound he assumes would come from a monkey. However, when he turns his gaze in the sound's direction, he sees a group of deer-like animals. From a distance, they appear to be fluffy clouds, ranging in color from white to brown. The noises continue.

Murdoc stares them down with an annoyed glare and returns to his work. 

I waited until Stu was out of sight, he writes. 

The animals seem to screech louder. 

Murdoc lets out a frustrated growl and scrapes the pen across the paper with a heightened sense of resolve. He listened to me when I told him to leave, that's the kicker. And I...

He hears another screech. 

"Oh, shut up!" He snaps, only to find them just a few feet away from him. Now, he can get a better look at them. 

Llamas? 

They stare at him, and he stares back. There are more pairs of eyes on him than there have been in a long time. Though it's somewhat unsettling, he's grateful that they're quiet. And with a grunt of approval, he tries to write. 

He doesn't notice them walk towards him until he feels the soft bump of a nose against his knee. It nearly shocks him backward off the fence. In a precipitous attempt to avoid falling, he drops his journal and digs his nails into the wood. The book falls inside the fence and is immediately trampled, but he holds steady. 

Their screeching has settled into a low hum, like a small orchestra of kazoos, or the theremin noises Stu would sometimes use to soothe him when he was anxious. Murdoc decides he likes the llamas' noises better. Unlike the theremin noises, the llama noises didn't incapacitate him, or "tranquilize him with sound," as Stu used to say. 

The llama nuzzling him is white and has a considerably distinct tuft of fleece growing on its head. It looks so soft Murdoc can't resist patting it. In response, it jumps away. The others follow. 

Sighing, Murdoc returns to his work. 

Soon enough, they return to him. The white llama slowly approaches him again. This time he waits to see what it wants to do. Again, it nudges at his knee. Then it nibbles at the fabric of his pants. The sensation of its teeth tickles, and it causes him to laugh. He wants to pet its head again but stops himself. Instead, he listens to their humming until he loses track of time. 

"So there I was, in the middle of the jungle..." He tells Victor later that night. "And out in the open, no more than a couple meters away from me was an entire pack of llamas!" 

"In the wild? That would be surprising. This isn't their natural habitat. If you see them, they usually belong to one of the farmers in the area." 

"Well, yeah. They were inside the fence," he concedes. "But they came right up to me."

"They probably thought you were there to feed them," Victor says. 

"I only wrote a couple sentences, but I'd bet you money that I pet each and every one of them. They couldn't get enough of me." He leans back in his chair. "Did my mum have a llama? Did she like them?" 

Victor laughs. "I wouldn't have trusted your mother with a house plant. She was a lot like you." 

Murdoc gives him a look of suspicion. "Go on..." 

"You're not always...interested in animals." 

His answer was diplomatic enough. "That's true. But these llamas weren't so bad...never expected them to make so much noise, but after they settled down, they just stood by me and ate grass." Besides their theremin-like noises, something was calming about another living thing simply be present, and not expect anything of him. 

He spends the next few days wandering down the different paths, all of which lead him through more forest and nowhere to sit. And nothing lives up to the fluffy wool of the llamas and their soothing sounds. 

After enough trial and error, he returns to the field and finds them in the same place as the beginning of the week. This time, they approach him without screeching at him. The white one leads them over and goes back to nudging and sniffing him as if to pick up from where it left off. He spends most of the afternoon from there running his hand along their necks and listening to their odd, yet comforting, sounds. His journal still bent and stained with mud, sits on the grass outside the fence. 

He returns the next day and then the next. The words begin to make successful journeys from his brain to his notebook by the fifth visit. He's crouched inside the fence with them that day, studying the page in front of him. He hardly notices the squelch of the moist ground under their hooves or the way they trot around him and mouth at the grass. It isn't until a flash of white obscures his vision, and he feels the warm wool against his cheek, that his concentration breaks. The white llama's head rests against his chest as it seems to embrace him with its neck. 

Murdoc isn't sure how to react, thinking that it's going to try to eat the paper of his notebook. But he soon notices other llamas in similar poses. Some are resting against each other, others curl their neck around the other as if they're hugging. He relaxes, inhaling the air around him. The llama's wool carries the smell of the earth; rain, dirt, grass. He strokes its neck and rests his head on its shoulder. 

That day, he writes down his first account of meeting his mother.

"Do you lot ever get bored out here?" He pets the white llama with his left hand and writes with the other. It's his eighth visit, and he's started having one-sided conversations with them. "All I ever see you do is eat." 

Another llama tries to nudge his hand in an appeal for his attention, but the white one stops it. Murdoc is surprised to see it turn and spit at the other llama. It gives it a warning squawk as it retreats. 

"Oi, be nice," he chides it, though he doesn't stop his petting. "You're a fine old chap but I'm here to visit all of you." The white one was always the first one to greet him, though, and he would be lying to himself to say he didn't notice it. 

Suddenly, he hears other voices. They're faint at first, but it isn't long before he makes out two figures standing across the field. One is pointing in his direction. They start walking towards him.

Murdoc gulps and hastily tries to dismount the fence. He isn't so graceful this time and hits the grass with a soft thud. Unsure of what they want but certain that he isn't wanted there, he runs off before they get too close. 

"You look upset," Victor observes at dinner. 

"I need to ask you a favor," he says. 

"Yes?"

"You know the llama farm I've been frequenting? I, er, met the owners today...sort of. They didn't look too excited to see me." He picks at the food on his plate with his fork. 

"They were probably surprised to see a stranger on their property." 

"Maybe to them I am, but I've become quite chummy with their livestock." He turns his gaze to him. "So, I was wondering if you would go back with me tomorrow and tell them that. In case you've forgotten, I'm not exactly the bilingual prodigy that I used to be...I'd like to continue my visits." 

"I see..." The older man hides it well, but Murdoc picks up on his perplexion. 

"I've been writing a lot," he offers. "Pages upon pages. It's like I'm bloody battery-powered out there." 

"Uh-huh."

"You know," he continues. "It's not every day that I meet an animal that likes me, let alone an entire pack of them. And it's not as if I have any..." He stops himself before he can say "friends." But outside of Victor, he hadn't bonded with anyone else in town. The language barrier was a significant part of it, but it was also due to his own wariness of the world as of late. 

"...Alright," Victor says after a long pause. 

They make the trip to the farm the following day. 

"You've been hiking this far?" The older man sounds surprised. "And staying out here...all day?"

"What? I don't look outdoors-y enough for you?" Murdoc swats an insect away from his face. "Bugger off," he snaps at it. 

"You're feet wouldn't hurt as much in the evening if you wore different shoes." 

Murdoc glances down at his boots. "Not a chance."  

After a few more minutes, the fence is within his line of sight. 

"There it is!" Then he points to the herd of llamas in the distance. "And there they are." He has a bag of llama and alpaca pellets with him that he purchased from the store that morning, and he takes it out of his jacket pocket. 

He hears Victor chuckle behind him.

"What?" He says. 

"Murdoc, those aren't llamas. Those are alpacas." 

"Alpacas?" Murdoc stares at them. They look like llamas. 

"Alpacas are smaller than llamas and are very special in our country. They were said to be a gift from the goddess, Pachamama, to the people of Andean Highlands thousands of years ago. We hold them in great respect to this day." 

"Alpacas," he repeats. This was the first time he had heard the word, alpaca.

Victor leans over the fence and watches them. "Yo soy vicuñita y vengo de la Puna," he sings. "Vengo escapando de los cazadores." He repeats the lines before moving into the second verse. "Ay guei vicuñita rishpi japi sonka. Ay guei vicuñita rishpi japi sonka."  

Murdoc leans against the fence next to him, shifting his weight awkwardly as he listens. 

"It's a lullaby," Victor informs him. "My niece always sang it to her son when he was little. One verse is in Spanish, the other is in Quechua. 'In English, it would be..." he thinks. "'I am a vicuña and I come from the Puna, I come, having escaped from the hunters. Oh my, the little vicuna goes everywhere with all its heart. Oh my, the little vicuna goes everywhere with all its heart.' Vicuña' means alpaca."

They're all gathered at the fence, humming. Murdoc holds out his hand to them. "Vicuña," he says, trying to get a grasp of the pronunciation. "I, er, hadn't heard of you before today. But, uh, I've respecting them." He glances back at Victor nervously. 

"So, uh, anyway. You see this one?" He motions towards the white alpaca as it eats. "He's my best mate of the pack. I've decided to call him, Beleth, after the demon. He's not as well know as Beezlebub or Belphegor, but he commands five armies and he likes music. This Beleth commands an army of llam- I mean, alpacas, so I thought it fit." 

"If they're letting you get that close, you must be," Victor says. "It can take some time to earn their trust. They're curious, but timid animals. But Murdoc, you know that all of these alpacas already have an owner..."

Murdoc beams. "And you know what? I respect that story you told. In Britain, they're always going on about our football team being lions as if lions are native to the United Kingdom. It's all bollocks. At least in Peru, you revere animals that got their start on the same continent." 

He holds out both of his hands, and more alpacas gather around him. Their bottom teeth scrape his palms, cleaning off every last bit of food. Then they nudge him eagerly for more. There was a layer of guilelessness to their impatience. They were never angry at him, and they never held a grudge when he ran out of food before they all got a turn. They never made him feel like he had to stay longer than he wanted to. They didn't know about his past, and even if they did, he doesn't believe they would judge him for it. He felt happy when they were happy, and he could always expect them to be there. 

He laughs at the sensation. 

"How about I go find their owner?" He hears Victor say behind him. 

"Yeah, yeah...shit!" He jumps in surprise when he gets caught in the crossfire of one alpaca spitting at another. 

Victor returns about an hour later. An old woman accompanies him. Her gray hair is tied neatly in a bun, and she's hunched over with age. Still, she matches his stride without the use of a cane or walker. 

As they approach, Murdoc feels self-conscious. He considers how ridiculous he must look, standing around in mud-stained clothes, surrounded by animals that didn't belong to him. It wasn't like him. No one from home would recognize him if they saw him as he was now. 

"Murdoc," Victor says. "This is señora Murillo. The alpacas have been in her family for over five generations. She wants to know what you are doing here." 

"Oh, uh..." Murdoc flit from the alpacas to the ground to the forest in the distance. "I'm just writing and, er...feeding them?" He grins sheepishly. 

The woman turns to Victor and whispers something to him.

"She can speak up," Murdoc says. "I can't understand anything she says anyway." 

The woman stops speaking and stares him down. 

"...But only if that's easier for her," he speaks rapidly. "Whatever volume suits her..." 

"She is asking if you have ever raised alpacas." 

"Uhhh, no."

"She wants to know what you intend to do from here." 

"I'd like to keep visiting," he says. "In case you couldn't tell, they love me." 

The woman whispers more harshly. She and Victor converse.

"...Please?" Murdoc adds. 

"She thinks your request is odd, but she will agree to it." 

Murdoc sighs in relief. 

"But you must notify her when you're coming. Someone from her family will be there to watch you while you visit." 

"What? Why?" Part of what made him feel so comfortable with them was the absence of other people.

"She doesn't know you, and she thinks your reasons for coming are strange. She also tells me that you should be prepared to help with their care if they find you capable of doing so." 

Murdoc can feel his excitement dulling as the list of conditions grows. "Do...do I have to? I just want to pet them." He frowns. "She's has kids. Hasn't she ever watch any of those movies where the lonely person meets the horse, or the dog, or the...I don't know...sheep, forges a lifelong friendship and saves the town?!" He tries to recall as many famous works about animals as he can. "She knows she could have the next War Horse here in her pasture, right? I could find her the next horse from War Horse or the next Lassie!... Except you know, with alpacas." 

Victor smiles sympathetically at him and passes along his final plea. "She hasn't heard of either of those animals and says that her offer is final. She would also like me to tell you that your friend's name is Ofelia, and that he is a she." 

Murdoc turns to the white alpaca, formerly and fleetingly known to him as Beleth, and silently nods in understanding. "Alright then..." 

"So, what do you think?" 

 He runs his hand through Ofelia's wool, recalling the way Stu used to word his fingers through his hair. He tries to match his tenderness in return for the trust the animals have so willingly given him. "I'll give it a go, I guess." What else did he have? 

Having another person there is an adjustment. Murdoc realizes soon that it isn't so much the person that bothers him as it is their judgments about him. He can't help but assume the family members spending time with him are bored with him. And as a self-identified entertainer, he can't help but feel a sense of failure.

But even when he doesn't get any writing complete there, he notices changes outside of his visits. He aches less in the morning when he wakes up. It becomes easier to leave Victor's house without any alcohol in his bag. He eats lunch regularly out in the field with the animals. Soon, he begins to speak. 

He tells Victor what happened in the jungle a few days later, sitting in the grass surrounded by them as they eat hay from his hand, nibble at other parts of his clothes, and nuzzle him. The words tumble out of him in irregular bursts between his sniffs and pauses. They create an uneven rhythm anchored by the steady hums.

"I feel like shit," he says. "Because she could have survived this. She could have stayed with you. I would have found my way out of my dad's hell hole one way or another. She shouldn't have had to..." 

The older man listens to him in silence, his eyes downcast. 

"I think that's what I can't let go," Murdoc continues. "Why did it have to be either her or myself?" 

"She wasn't going to leave you, Murdoc, not with him. And she would never have escaped what he did, even if she stayed in Peru." 

"If you don't fuck the world over, it fucks you over. I hate it. I hate what it did to me. There's so much that I'll never have." 

"I never wanted to say goodbye to your mother," Victor says gently. "You're having to let her go as her son must have been harder than I could ever imagine. But, Murdoc, you did everything she knew you could. You finished what she couldn't, and you found her. Neither of you will have to worry about the curse ever again. She's happy, and that's all I ever wanted for her. Now, that's what I want for you." 

Murdoc mulls over his words. He can't accept them. It's not fair, he wants to say. He wants to destroy something. Perhaps he would drive his fist into the fence or tear his journal apart. Anything to get rid of the anger stirring inside him. 

He clenches his jaw. You're in your fifties, Murdoc, he tells himself. You're too old for temper tantrums. He leans against the soft fleece of the alpaca behind him and breathes. 

As the days pass, the words become easier. Señora Murillo's family proves to be less of a distraction than he anticipated. Often, it's her son who stays with him. He spends most of his time playing games on his phone than watching Murdoc. However, he eventually shows him around the farm so that he can learn where they keep their hay, and where their shelter is with their water basin. 

Murdoc does his own research in the evenings, learning about what plants are poisonous to them and what their different noises mean. He becomes comfortable sitting with them, and following them around the field as he thinks. 

"I forget if I ever told you this, but thank you," he tells Victor one day. He's balancing a mound of woven yarn in his lap as he sits on the fence. Some of the pieces have been cut into strands about a foot long, and rest across his left thigh. The uncut yarn is positioned on his other leg.

"Oh?" He seems surprised. "You're welcome." 

"For, uh, letting me stay with you," he says. He measures a strand of yarn against the one he had previously cut and slices it with his knife. "And for booking me this gig. I probably would have been plastered on your couch without it." 

"That was also your doing," Victor says. "You wouldn't have found this place if you had stayed inside the house." 

"And here I am, practically knitting for an elderly woman and her herd of alpacas." He measures another strand of yarn. Señora Murillo needed more tassels new halters for her animals. The first strand was cut for him, and he was instructed to cut the rest. She would weave them all together later that week. "The strolls I went on in the states didn't use to end like this," he says. 

"What do you mean?"

"Do you know how many liquor stores they have in Detroit?" That was always where he started. "America and its bloody liquor stores. Then, of course, there were always the pubs. They're not quite as cozy and warm as the pubs in England, but I'm not a picky man. But now, I'm distracted." 

He shoos an alpaca away after it reaches for the yarn. "I'm doing this for you, you know. Since when is hay orange?" 

"They're doing a good job keeping you busy. I bet you could work here if you wanted to," Victor says. "Have you thought about what you will do?"

"Mate, I've been trying not to think about anything." Measure and cut. That's all he wants on his mind right now. "Except when I'm writing."  

"Well, if you plan to stay longer than six months, I'd like you to find a source of income. You don't have to make any decisions now, but it's something to think about. Señora Murillo has been very appreciative of your work here. And you seem to enjoy it."

Murdoc watches the herd trot around the field. They move as a unit with Ofelia at the front. He's come to learn that she's the dominant alpaca of the group. She was always the first to greet him or eat from his hand. It made sense in retrospect.

"This was something Stu always went on about," he says. It's the first time he's uttered the singer's name since he told him to go home. "Farming. Living out in the middle of a field or in the woods, just the two of us." 

Measure and cut, he tries to redirect his brain. 

But Stu is everywhere. He sees his hair in the sky, his frame in the tall trees. And when they hum, he hears those stupid theremin noises he used to make. Guilt and longing weigh down on his chest. "As it turns out, I don't mind it so much." He doesn't want to think about Stu, but at the same time, he misses him.

Victor listens in silence. 

"I shouldn't have yelled at him," Murdoc says. "He had a lot more figured out than I ever did...I just couldn't see it."

"You had a lot clouding your mind at the time." 

"I'm a bloody idiot." 

"No, you're not, Murdoc. You're figuring yourself out." 

"When I'm out here, I don't have to think about him. I don't have to think about where I'll be next year or next week." He suddenly has the urge to throw the yarn on the ground. "Fuck it! I'm avoiding everything." 

"Do you want to call him?" 

"No," he answers quickly. "I mean...not now. I...I don't want to, not at the moment."

They stay in the presence of each other in silence until Murdoc falls back into the rhythm of measuring and cutting the yarn. 

"Anyhow," he says. "About the table you have in the market...How are you lot advertising?" 

"Advertising?" 

Murdoc closes his eyes and imagines a page in his notebook. "Yeah. You know, enticing the public to purchase your wares is an art form of its own. Do you use the TV or radio?"

Victor shrugs. "We set up our table every weekend. We're always in the same spot. People have come to know us." 

"Oh come on, don't tell me you've never had an elevator pitch." 

He shakes his head. 

"What if I helped you out with that?" Suddenly, his hands are quivering in excitement at what he anticipates might turn into a new, albeit temporary purpose. "I've got some chords written down. They aren't much, but I could turn them into something, send it to the radio. You'll have new customers fighting over your ayahuasca vials faster than you can blink." 

"You mean like a song?"

"A little jingle. You know, as you hear in commercials." He had never thought highly of the task. People who wrote songs for commercials had always been unfortunate sods who never made it big in his eyes. Who would have predicted that years later, he would be practically begging to write one himself? "I'd like to do that for you...as a thank you...and perhaps to buy myself some time before getting that job you speak of." 

Victor laughs. "I still haven't heard much of your music, but to be successful, you must be talented. And you are your mother's son. I'll accept your offer." He pats Murdoc gently on the back. "And the job is only a requirement if you intend to stay." 

Murdoc's eyes take in the field in front of him. The alpacas have lost interest in him for the time being, and have gathered under one of the trees. "This is the most at home I've felt since I woke up in the river," he says. The alienation he had struggled with in the beginning was beginning to fade as images of himself on the farm grew clearer. For once, he could see himself as part of the country rather than a stranger in it. Surely he could adjust to staying. "So I guess I'm here. I don't know what else I've got at the moment." 

Victor joins him at the fence. "Does this feel right to you?"

He would always feel the absence of his mother and of Stu. However, his mother was dead, and Stu probably hated him. There was nothing left for him anywhere else. Perhaps he could make up the time his mother lost by living in her country. He had a chance to be anything: a waiter, a fisherman, an alpaca farmer. He could even go back to school once he got a better grasp of the language. It was possible to get used to life in Peru if he tried. "Yeah," he says. "As right as it's going to get." 

But he doesn't know. He wants to believe he could belong, but Gorillaz would always be there. Stu would always be there. Why couldn't he stop thinking about him? Was it the natural progression of a break-up, or did it mean something more? His mind drifts to the singer's journal, still stored at the bottom of his backpack.

"You might be surprised at how much you still have."

___________________________________________

One year later...

"We're almost there." The trail to the farm hasn't changed since he left on the final flight back to Detroit. 

"Jeez, Muds. You hiked all the way out here? More than once?" Russel trails behind him, gawking at their surroundings. 

"Nearly every day for an entire month," Murdoc says. "Hurry it up, Russ. I'm not about to let any of you slow me down. You're lucky I'm showing you any of this." 

The seasons in South America are the opposite of seasons in the states. Electing to escape the Michigan heat, Murdoc decides to return to the country during their summer and Peru's winter. He hadn't planned to invite along the rest of his band. In fact, even after two days in the country, he was still warming up to the idea.

"Calm down, Murdoc." Noodle walks next to him, occasionally snapping pictures of their surroundings with her phone. "I never thought I'd say 'Murdoc' and 'hiking' in the same sentence either." 

Murdoc isn't in the mood to be teased. Holding back his emotions when he saw Victor again was enough. Even more difficult; his arrival in the country. He remembers how his eyes watered as the plane descended and how he struggled to blink back his tears. This trip was emotional for him in ways they could never understand. 

"Well," he says, pushing away his irritation just as he had done to his other feelings. He's starting to wish it was only him and Victor. "What can I say, I'm a man of many surprises." 

"And there are still a few surprises left," Victor says. "There seems to be some tension between you. I think this visit will provide some relief."

"It's so beautiful," Noodle remarks. "Would you mind if I share the pictures I'm taking? So many people have lost their connection to the natural world, and while they may not be here in person, maybe if they see these pictures they will be reminded." 

"Yeah," Russel says. "The world's rainforests are under a constant threat of being destroyed by the wealthy. The indigenous activists doing the work to protect them need all the publicity they can get." 

"We'll talk about that later," Murdoc says. "The last thing I want is for Senora Murillo to be swarmed by obsessive fans looking for internet points or their next photo-op." Finally, he sees the familiar wooden fence. 

"She does prefer to live a quiet life," Victor says as Murdoc starts to walk more quickly towards the fence. 

Once he sees the alpacas, he doesn't wait for the rest of them. They look the same way they did when he left them. Pulling some food out of his pocket, he climbs over the fence and into the field with them. "Remember me?" He asks. 

Ofelia is the first one to greet him, her neck adorned with the colorful tassels he remembers measuring out days before he left for Detroit. She hums into his hand as she eats. The others follow. "You're all here." A smile cracks on his face. "Ofelia, Beatriz, Pilar, Luna, Sofia, Rosa...uh..." He looks over at Victor. "Did she get more?" 

"Yes, a few from her niece. Take a closer look."

"Okay, now this is getting freaky," Russel says. 

Noodle reaches her hand through the fence, waiting for one of them to come over. "They're adorable!"

"Murdoc would come here every day when he was staying with me." 

"Yeah, and I found it all by myself." Murdoc crouches down lower so that he's more level with them. "This here is Ofelia. She was my best mate here." He scratches her neck, and she spits at another alpaca who gets too close. "She knows what it's like to be a leader." 

Victor laughs. "You aren't looking."

"What?" Murdoc asks, confused.

"Hey there, buddy." Russel follows Noodle and reaches his hand in as well. "Were you Murdoc's only friend?" 

"Alpacas?" Noodle holds her camera close enough to take a picture. "How sweet! And they like you back, Muds?" 

"Alpacas have long memories," Victor says. "Even when Murdoc had to leave on such short notice, they'll always remember how he kept them company." 

"Awww." Noodle pets Pilar on the head. "Did Muds ghost you, too?" 

"They don't like to be petted on the head." Murdoc shoots a glare at both of them. As if on queue, Pilar moves away from Noodle as well. "And I came back, didn't I? Just like I came back to you lot, though I'm questioning that decision."

"We're all familiar with Murdoc's impulsive decisions," Victor says. "And we also know that he maintains the bonds that matter to him. You're both important to him, just as much as Stuart. I understood when he told me he had to go back to America, as did Señora Murillo. I'm sure his alpaca friends did as well." 

"Exactly," Murdoc snaps. "I almost stayed here...I hope you know that. Maybe you think it's funny, but these bloody animals gave me a sense of stability. And yes, they helped me remember how to form an actual connection with another living thing."

His words, though somewhat harsh, seems to get through to them. 

Noodle regards him with a sense of sympathy. "I see that. I'm sorry if I didn't seem to be taking all of this seriously."

"Yeah, man," Russel says. "This is a beautiful place, and I can see why you would want to keep coming back. It sounds like we owe a lot to it too." He turns to Victor. "In case we don't get to meet her, can you give Senora Murillo a thank you from us?" 

"Of course," he says. "Señora Murillo also left a message for you, Murdoc." 

Murdoc looks up. "Oh?"

"She first says that she hopes you like the halters she made. And..." Victor points into the fence. 

Murdoc follows his finger. "What?" 

A wide grin breaks out on Noodle's face. "Oh, I didn't see that one hidden there!"

Then he sees it, beside Ofelia. "Is that...?"

"Yes, Ofelia gave birth to a baby boy this spring. He's called Paolo, after the football player." 

"You're a mum now?" Murdoc scratches her neck, a sudden feeling of excitement spiking through him. "Well, I guess that makes me an uncle, right? Hello! Your mum and I go way back."

"By the way, do they bite?" Russel asks. 

"No." Murdoc sits down in the grass. "If you look closely, you'll see they don't have any top teeth. But that doesn't mean you can make any sudden movements towards them if they don't know you. Wait for them to come to you, or you'll scare them off." 

The baby alpaca watches him from his mother's side. Murdoc smiles at him as he continues to feed the rest of the herd. He was getting used to waiting. A year had passed and he was still waiting to see the vibrant blue of his hair and to hear the rich emotion in his voice when he sang. He was waiting to feel the calloused yet delicate touch of his fingers on his skin. But he was learning that distance could also be a source of healing. He was prepared to provide the baby alpaca with all the time he needed to feel comfortable enough to approach him. 

"Hey, Muds," Russel says. "I'm gonna start out by saying that I don't mean this as an insult, okay? You seem...very chill in there. I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone watching you. But it's cool. I like it." 

"He isn't the biggest fan of animals, and he isn't the best pet owner." Noodle is talking to Victor. "So this is, uh, new for us."

"It was a surprise for me as well," Victor says. "Murdoc wasn't any more fond of the animals here than back home, not at first. However, señora Murillo is grateful for the help he provided. He was very reliable, and he treated the animals well." 

As they talk, the baby alpaca begins walking toward him. Murdoc tries to remain focused on the other alpacas as he gets closer. "Thanks, mate," he says to Victor. "There you have it. I don't cock up everything."

"Hey, if we get to know them well enough, can we hang in the alpaca field with you?" Russel asks.

"No! Not if you're going to try to stuff them like you do every other animal you meet." 

"I only do that to animals after they're already dead." Russel turns to Victor. "Taxidermy." 

"They look so fuzzy." Noodle takes another picture. "I read that they use their wool for clothing." 

"We weave a lot of clothing from alpaca wool. I'll take you to the market tomorrow, and you can take a look at some of the garments. I have a few gifts for Murdoc that you can see as well if he chooses to open them tonight." 

The baby alpaca is right beside him now, watching him with curiosity. 

"Hey there," he says, brightening. Tentatively, he starts to pet his neck, his fingers curling around the tassels in his fleece. "Is this alright? How about mum?" He turns to the Ofelia, but she and the rest of the alpacas seem far more interested in the food in his pockets. "Hey, Victor," he says.

"Yes?" 

"Do you think I can...uh...pick him up?" He had seen señora Murillo and her family do it more times than he could count. Yet he had never held a baby alpaca on his own. 

"Of course you can, Murdoc."

"Ooooh, do it!" Noodle cheers excitedly. It had been a while since he has seen her that animated.

"Okay, here it goes." He scoops him up gingerly. "You alright there?" he asks again, still uncertain of himself in a care-giving role. 

Paolo looks at him, and then at the field from his new, elevated position. He remains unphased.

"Is this okay?" Murdoc asks him, even though he knows he can't respond. "You're in good hands here. Did you know that? Don't worry. I won't let Russ stuff you." 

"Really, Muds?" Russel rolls his eyes.

"How sweet!" Noodle exclaims. "He really seems to like you, Murdoc!" 

"He does?" Murdoc asks hopefully. "I mean, of course, he does. He's my little...uh...what's the word? Vica...vicu...?" 

"Vicuña," Victor says. 

"Vicuña." Murdoc sounds it out the best that he can. "How did that song you sang go again? Something about a vicuña from the mountains?" 

"Yo soy vicuñita y vengo de la Puna," Victor says. "Or, 'I am a vicuña and I come from the Puna.'"

"I am a vicuña and I come from the Puna," Murdoc sings, as softly as he can, to the alpaca. "I am a vicuña and I come from the Puna." 

"Vengo escapando de los cazadores. 'I come, having escaped from the hunters." 

"I come, having escaped from the hunters." His voice sounded rough and shaky as it always did, but right now, he doesn't care.

"Ay guei vicuñita rishpi japi sonka," Victor continues to lead him along. "Oh my, the little vicuna goes everywhere with all its heart." 

"Oh my, the little vicuna goes everywhere with all its heart." He hugs the alpaca closer, feeling the fuzz fleece against his cheek. The hesitancy and frustration of the trip begin to fall off of him the way the alpaca's fleece did when they were sheared. He allows the joy he's feeling to find its way to his face. "Welcome to the world," he tells him. 

The baby alpaca was at the beginning of his life. There would be so much for him to see and learn, everything would be new. Murdoc remembers a time when 'new' used to scare him. But holding Paolo close, he tries to embrace the excitement he feels. They had both taken their first steps in the country on trembling legs, they were both finding their way, and they weren't doing it on their own.

"You're going to live a spectacular life," he says. "It's a big world, but you're ready." He cradles him there, and sings again, "Oh my, the little vicuna goes everywhere with all its heart."

end.

Hope you enjoyed! I only started researching alpacas over the past couple of weeks, so if you’re reading this and by any chance have experience working with alpacas and spot some errors in the information I have, please feel free to correct me!

[pasionlatinamtl]

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@pasionlatinamontreal have a pleasure to announce the Spanish interview with the Peruvian singer @damarismusica, on 12 September at 19H Damaris Mallma Porras is a Peruvian folk singer. She is a representative of contemporary Andean music, which consists of a blend of the traditional Indian language Quechua and modern pop music. Ambassador of the Peru brand since 2011, winner of the "Viña del Mar" Song Festival folklore competition and nominated for the 2009 Latin Grammy for best folk album. · · #folk #grammys #composer #singer #montreal #moodygrams #grammy #music #mtl #folkgood #musician #singersongwriter #mtlmoments #portraitmood #piano #singers #mtlblog #livefolk #grammyawards #composerlife #singerlife #montrealmoments #portraitpage #artist #pianist #singersofinstagram #montreallife #artofvisuals #grammyaward #composers (à Montreal, Quebec) https://www.instagram.com/p/CEsSMnCHldc/?igshid=1nxfbhvd3yeyh