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phantomphangphucker · 5 years

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Ectober Day 17: Witching Hour - Hyper Concentrated

Sometimes I’m more ghostly than others and that’s just fine. Just another messed up aspect of a messed up half-life.

April 12, 3:42 am

April 24, 3:28 am

July 6, 3:11 am

August 1, 3:56 am

August 13, 3:47 am

Danny sighs as he shakes his head adding another date to his little notebook.

August 29, 3:03 am

Even his dumbass, that was perpetually focused on other things, could see the pattern here. It was always between 3 am and 4 am. He didn’t yet know if it happened exactly at 3 am and would stop instantly at 4 am. And really, if it wasn’t for all the late-night or early morning -depending on how you looked at it- ghost sense wake up calls, he never would have noticed.

Getting up and walking over to his bedroom door nob, wiggling it to hear and feel the reassuring lock. If his parents ever walked in on this, it would be flat out awful. Not ‘walking in on him mid-transformation’ awful, but definitely up there with ‘seeing him bleed ectoplasm’ awful.

Shuffling back to his bed and getting started on his nights stitching and bandagings. Most would come off by morning, it was an easier fight after all. Which really just meant he hadn’t sustained any injuries that would typically kill a human. A few scratches, read: deep gouges. A cracked rib, read: probably broken earlier. A sprained shoulder, read: dislocated. And a deep jagged slash running down his arm, read: nearly bisected. Okay, maybe that last one could be deadly; but that lady in Saw survived it, didn’t she?

Watching the vibrant glow coming off his human skin as he sets to work on his arm, having already fixed up his shoulder.

It was kind of annoying doing stitching while his body was ‘acting up’ like this. The ectoline blending in too easily with his glowing green fingernails. But it was something that had to be done. Otherwise, a gaping wound would stay a gaping wound by the time it was genuinely morning. And hiding that was more than a little difficult. At least on the simple scratches he could just use butterfly bandages.

Watching a trail of red blood with a white glow flow lazily over the side of his wrist. It really did something to your brain. Seeing something glow the completely wrong colour. At least with other colours you could trick your brain into just thinking it was a washed-out version of the colour. Pale green or pale blue or pale yellow. Can’t do that with red, you just get pale pink. And the brain just doesn’t like that, it’s honestly a good thing weird and not right and impossible, are Danny’s normals.

One more prick and pull and he’s patting at the finished stitching somewhat fondly. Sometimes he liked to fiddle with the edges of the stitches when he was feeling bored or stressed. Like squeezing a stress ball. It was calming and grounding.

Standing and stretching some before taking the first aid kit with him over to his bedroom mirror. He never used to have one, but after one too many times nearly being caught treating head or back wounds in the family bathroom, that had to change. Ruffling up his glowing green hair before setting to work butterflying closed four cuts. He hated head wounds, they always bled so damn much. This fact being emphasised by how he had to dap at his forehead every so often with his assigned blood rag. Honestly, the thing just looked tie-dyed now. A somewhat pretty collidascope of dark rust reds, darkening cherry reds, deep forest greens, fuzzy lime green, and the glow of neon green. Now adding a splash of vibrant white-glowing red, it really looked out of place. But it would fade all the same. Sometimes he found it funny how the reds always faded faster than the greens. Maybe if this rag didn’t see so much action it would all fade into an off-putting brown. Not off-putting because of the fact that it was brown, but rather that you could always just tell there was something sinister about that particular shade with that particular texture.

Running his tongue over his teeth and pausing, tilting his head. Opening his mouth to look at his green glowing teeth, “huh. Lost a tooth”. Shrugging, he’ll just have to keep his mouth closed for the morning and take his breakfast to go. Walking back over to his bed and staring down at the notebook. Before looking down at his chest, patting at his PJ top. At least whatever this was didn’t force him to be in his jumpsuit. And he still looked normal in Phantom form. It was just Fenton that was all weird and glowy and green.

Stretching again but with a yawn before flopping back in bed to sleep. Stretching up in the morning, poking his tongue around in his mouth. Yep, tooth still missing. Well okay, it was half-formed. Pushing his tongue against the half-formed tooth, it was weird feeling the inside of a tooth. Plus the nerves were all exposed so anything cold, hot, sweet, spicy, salty, -really anything that wasn’t plain- would hurt like Hell.

Taking the steps two at a time and making sure not to jar his arm on the banister. Sliding into the kitchen and speaking with his head towards the ground to hide his mouth, “mornin’!”.

Jack and Maddie smile, exchange greetings and the normal stereotypical pleasantries. That were honestly just for the routine of it nowadays. It wasn’t that it’s was insincere, there was still love in it. It’s just that they were all nearly strangers to each other.

Waving bye to them with a piece of bread in his mouth. Everyone with smiles on their faces, genuine smiles yes but he knew they’d disappear near instantly. Wondering just what he was up too and wishing they could ask without feeling awkward and knowing they wouldn’t really get an answer. Just the same they didn’t really give him answers about their inventions anymore. Having caught on that once he, his friends, or Phantom caught on to what any of it did, it suddenly wouldn’t work on Phantom or at all.

Shrugging, well if he could keep secrets from them, it was only right they could too. Fair is fair after all. Besides the mystery and challenge added a bit of spice to everything. Kept him on his toes and always searching for the what, why, and how. Also known as paranoia, but that was just a close friend to him nowadays.

Waving to Sam and Tucker as he spots them by the fountain, “hey guys! So I’ve got some ghost weirdness to shoot off ya!”. Danny can see the slight strain as they try to hear him, even though he shouted. Human hearing really was awful. Clapping Tucker in the shoulder as Danny plops down on the edge of the fountain. Sam smiling, “alright shoot. What’s gone straight strange in ghost ville this time?”.

Danny pulls out the little notebook, “it’s been a few months at least actually. Might even have been an always thing, just hadn’t noticed it yet”, flipping the book open and pointing at the times he’s got recorded, “always seems to be between three and four am. Basically-”.

Sam cuts him off with a laugh, “whatever it is, easy answer. Witching hour”. Both Danny and Tucker raise an eyebrow, “huh?”.

Sam rolls her eyes, “oh come on. I would have figured by now all of us would have a healthy interest in the supernatural and spooky. The Witching hour is commonly known, you idiots”.

Danny points to her, “I am literally the supernatural and spooky”. “Then be more interested in yourself”.

Danny looks around quickly before creating a clone and promptly kissing it, “that interested enough for you”.

Both of them start laughing, Tucker falling over. Making Danny grin wide, always appreciating how neither will call him on his injuries, teeth included. Sam shakes her head, “so anyway, dumbass. The Witching hour is three am to four am every night. Where the supernatural is more active. More powerful, more noticeable, more common. All that jazz”.

Tucker slaps Danny’s chest, “so what the Hell’s happening? To you probably”. Danny snorts and rolls his eyes, “of course it’s to me. When is it ever not?”. They laugh while Danny chuckles before speaking up again, “the problem with this though, is it happens to Screaming Fan not Frying Pan. And it seems pretty involuntary. Frying Pan is perfectly normal-looking but Screaming Fan is all glowy. Even blood glows white. Then there’s the green. Teeth, fingernails, eyes. All green and glowy. Like as bright as ectoline, glowy”.

Sam and Tucker exchange a look, speaking in unison, “sleep over time”. While Danny chuckles and kicks his heel hard enough on the stone to crack it.

That night, surprising no one, is more of an extended patrol than a traditional sleepover. Tucker whacking an ectobeaver over the head with a ectostun stick, “it really says something that this is our idea of a fun past time!”.

Danny chuckles blasting away an ectopuss, “honestly, it’s more telling that our folks aren’t even surprised by any of us just off and disappearing anymore!”, coming to float on his back just above the ground, “pretty sure they’ve all given up”.

Sam snorts, dragging another ectobeaver across the ground and whacking it, for good measure, before sucking it into her thermos, “don’t know what took mine so damn long. You fucks have only been the family black sheep’s for a few years. I’ve been doing it half my life”.

Danny snickers and pokes her, “I’ve been doing it for all of half my life”. “Okay, I asked for that one”.

Danny just smirks as they do another lap around the town. Danny soaring over buildings and diving into alleys. Sam and Tucker following across rooftops, balconies and the ground. Frequently doing completely unnecessary parkour stunts.

Tucker whacks Danny on the back, “well looks like we chased everything away. Even Boxy isn’t making anymore repeat appearances”, looking at his smartwatch, “and it’s, like, just past two-thirty”.

Danny snorts, deadpanning, “too thirsty”.

Sam rolls her eyes at him, “you don’t have any more shame do you?”. “It’s dead, rolling around in its coffin and slamming on the lid. Firmly being ignored by all the groundskeepers, ‘cause the fuckers got no place amongst the living or dead”.

Tucker shrugs, leaning over as he shoves the remnants of a cold burger into his mouth, “none ofgh urse dow”.

Sam rolls her eyes, prompting Danny to point at her. Sam raises an eyebrow, “what?”.

“Sam you’re literally running over rooftops and fighting mean nasty ghosties, in a bedazzled bra and Halloween novelty panties you’re passing off as shorts. Which honestly, yeah, they’re closer to shorts”.

Sam points down at her steel toe combat boots with a smirk. Tucker snorting, “you probably bathe in those things”.

“It’s happened”.

Danny laughs as he picks them up to fly to his room, “see? No shame”.

Landing and all three promptly collapsing on the floor. None of them opting to get up. Wounds left ignored to add to the stains on the floor. Danny eventually grunting, “think my room qualifies as a biohazard?”.

“Dude, some of your clothing piles probably have mould. And is there anything without blood or ‘plasm stains?”. Danny shrugs, “prob not”.

Sam laughs a little hollowly, “you know that means we’re all nose blind to blood and viscera”.

Danny, in human form now, sits up on his hands, “I prob always smell like that”. He really was always injured. It was a rare thing that he wasn’t bleeding at least a little bit. And the only aspect of that that bothered him was that sometimes he didn’t notice it bleeding through clothing. People might notice that sort of thing and replacing clothing was expensive.

Danny then jerks slightly, his friends following suit near immediately. Danny feeling his ectoplasm pulse and slosh around of its own accord. Feeling closer to the surface and vibrating slightly more than it had been before. Tilting his head down and seeing the glowing human hands and green fingernails, “huh, never actually been awake during”.

Sam checks her phone, “yup, three am on the dot”, before flipping it around to show them.

Tucker snorts, “that was easy to figure out then”.

Danny sticks his arms out to the side, “but why? I mean obviously it’s the whole supernatural, aka ghost, being stronger or whatever”.

“Duh”.

“Dude, that's basically the why entirely”.

Danny facepalms, muttering into his hand, “if this ‘witching hour’ brings ghosts closer to the surface because”, lifting his head up and snapping his fingers, “shit yeah, I could feel this. My ectoplasm bubbles up to the surface, more so anyway”, Rolling his hand, “but really, shouldn’t this just make me Noten Phantom looking? Not green? If this time makes ghosts more ghostly or the Ghost Realm closer to the Mortal one?”.

Tucker blinks at him disbelievingly before laughing, “you answered your own question”, gesturing to Danny’s green glowing form, “your green cause your ectoplasm is closer to the surface”.

Sam tilts her head, “the Witching Hour is the time where, if we apply this to knowing ghosts are indeed real, ectoplasm would be more active”, pointing at Danny, “hence your ectoplasm being more active”. Smirking at him, “you could say, that just as the Ghost Realm is closer to the surface, to the land of the living. So too is your ghost closer to the surface of you, the body of the living Danny”.

Danny fiddles with his stitching some and starts laughing, “so I’m spooky Danny. Spooky Danny Fenton”, snorting, “Phantom’s a Spook and Fenton’s a Mortal. But Witching Hour Fenton is Spooky Fenton”, sticking his glowing arms out to the side, “not quite a Spook and not quite a Mortal! The true in between!”. Tucker throws an arm around Danny, “and since only Fenton’s affected that means it’s a halfa thing. In between indeed”.

Sam throws her arm around Danny’s other side before the all dramatically fall back down onto the ground, “at least you rock it, very cybergoth. Vlad probably looks like an absolute fool”.

Danny goes wide-eyed and slowly grins maliciously, “well it is only 3:24, we can pay our favourite unlovable fruitloop a visit now can’t we?”.

Tucker jerks to sit up but Danny’s got a hold on him and isn’t moving, dragging Tucker back down onto the carpet with a huff.

Sam raises an eyebrow, staring at the ceiling, “portal?”.

Tucker nods at the ceiling, “portal”.

While Danny smirks, “portal”, before opening up a portal on the floor, the three fällig backwards through it. Danny whispering, “now fall”.

The three come flying out of the portal formed on Vlad’s bedroom wall, making Vlad jerk and spit out his whiskey as he was finishing off the glass and was about to get ready for bed. Vlad follows them as they fly across the room while laughing at him, with Tucker taking a photo, before disappearing through another portal. All in the span of a second or two.

The three fall from the portal formed on Danny’s ceiling and land on his bed. With multiple injuries reopening and jostling Danny’s rib enough to turn a crack back into yet another break. Danny wheezes, “my ribs can never catch a break”. Tucker snorts, “the bed caught it for you”, before holding his PDA straight up for everyone to see the image.

“Oh Ancients green eyes do not suit him!”.

“He looks like he’s got neon green nail polish! Very goth. Way too much with that suit of his though”.

“See it works on Danny dude cause he looks like a damn mess, so it’s a fucking accent piece. Vampy just looks like a try-hard!”.

“Excuse you?!? I’m a natural disaster sight! ‘Mess’ is, clearly, far too modest”. Sam pokes his cheek, “well you know what’s not modest? Besides calling you a colossal idiot? Your green glow looks like a sick rave effect. Vlad just looks ill”. Danny snorts, “sick and ill are both mine. Vladdie can have afflicted, since that’s not inadvertently a compliment”, snapping his fingers, “and! He was and is literally afflicted by his ghostliness, ectoacne and all that. Being a halfa is literally an affliction for him”.

Tucker smirks, “and so what is it for you then?”.

“Unlike the fruitloop, I didn’t get my shit slowly after a bout of extreme illness. I just straight half died. I ain’t afflicted by shit, I’m modified”.

“Now who’s being modest by saying ‘modified’ instead of ‘enhanced’?”.

“Oh don’t you know Sam? Danny only flaunts his bad traits”.

Danny, speaking with mock offence, “what do you mean being a walking disaster zone isn’t a positive trait?”.

Tucker sprigs up off the bed and takes a couple of steps before stopping and looking down at the floor, looking back to Danny and bouncing slightly on his toes, “dude, your floor is squishy. Being a flaming trash fire is one thing, accidentally becoming the biohazard apocalypse is another”.

Danny sits up and screws up his face, pokes the floor with his foot and shrugs, “my floors saturated, blood ‘n ‘plasm probably”, snickering and lifting up his glowing arm, “just like how I’m ectoplasm saturated”.

Sam laughs, grabs Tucker’s phone and zooms in on Vlad’s mouth. Snickering, “hey halfwit?”.

Danny leans his head over hers, “what?”.

Sam shoves a finger in Danny’s mouth and pushes it open, showing off Danny’s green glowing teeth, “you look like you drank glow-in-the-dark paint”, flipping around Tucker’s phone so Danny the close up of Vlad’s teeth, “he looks like he’s wearing a tacky novelty mouthguard”.

Danny raises an eyebrow and lets his fangs pop out, making a show of sounding overactingly threatening, “what about now?”. Only maintaining the scary facial expression for a few seconds before pitching off the bed onto the floor while laughing.

Sam shakes her head and kicks his face. Tucker shrugging and joining in, kicking Danny in the stomach. Who just wheezes in laughter.

As Danny calms down and just wheezes on the floor, limbs spread out, Tucker pokes Danny cheek with his shoe, “now you look like you cannibalised a ghost and liked it”.

Danny smirks up at him, “maybe I would”.

Sam kicks him in the side of the head, “don’t eat Boxy”.

“Naw, Skulkie is More bite-sized”.

Tucker rolls his eyes and joins Danny on the carpet, “but he’s canned. Canned food is so salty”.

Sam grunts as she wiggles herself off the bed and onto the floor, laying across the boys, “and you’re salty enough”.

Danny licks over one of his wounds, “naw, I’m pucker power”, screwing up his face like he bit a lemon, “and with an extra helping of sour powder apparently”.

Tucker snorts, “I’d ask for free samples but I like my tongue intact”.

“Oh come on Tuck, live life! Like me!”.

Tucker shakes his head, “is it sad that we all only started really living our lives once you lost half of yours?”.

Danny shrugs exaggeratedly, “well you two are the only ones living it to the fullest”.

Tucker pushes his face, “but you get to live and unlive. Two for one is a much better deal”.

Danny laughs, “livin’ it and deadin’ it!”.

Sam smiles at the ceiling, “death gave us the guts and drive to live”.

“Well maybe it could do me a solid and stop tearing out my guts”.

“You say that like deaths never done anything for you”.

“It hasn’t! That little bastard keeps running away from me. Never granting me that sweet sweet eternal sleep”.

Both Sam and Tucker sit up then and look over his green glowing form, raising their eyebrows at him. Only for him to give a devilish toothy grin as e can feel the ectoplasm in him sloshing and digging itself deeper inside himself, his body returning to normal as he cackles. Point at himself, “the bitch ran away”.

Both of them grab a pillow and hit him in the face. End.

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linernotesandseasons · 5 years

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My 19 Favorite Albums of 2019

2019 is coming to a close. The entire decade is coming to a close. This list has been an increasingly comforting exercise the last few years. I guess this will be the eighth annual version of the linernotesandseasons favorite albums of the year list! Crazy how time passes. So here are the collections of songs that I used to mark my personal time & space this year. The lyrics that I learned by heart & sang out in dark & dirty rock clubs. I also made a spotify playlist with two songs from each album if you’re interested in listening along as you read.

This year most of my writing focuses on when & why I fell in love with a specific album. Sometimes the history is important, building a base or connecting some threads, so when relevant, I have also included my history with when I fell in love with a specific artist. And finally, as has become more important to my music chasing brain in the last few years, why this artist or album is important to music right now. What they’re doing to leave a mark on the world, in whatever small space or way.

So without any further ado, here it is, in no particular order (unless you’re particularly knowledgable or fond of the english alphabet) my 19 (well actually 20 cuz freaking Big Thief put out two!) favorite albums of 2019. It’s been a pleasure.

BETTER OBLIVION COMMUNITY CENTER / Better Oblivion Community Center

Spring 2019 in Denver was cold & breezy, sunny & exciting. I had spun the Phoebe Bridgers/Conor Oberst match-made-in-indie-emo-sad-folk-heaven record once through, but in late March I made a game time (like I bought a day-of ticket off stubhub at 6pm!) decision to drive down from work and see their show at the Gothic on South Broadway. I’d been up since 7am the night (morning?) before, watching opening day baseball live from Japan (on March 20th?!). Ichiro’s final game and I was feeling maybe a little emotionally fragile already. But anyway… Better Oblivion Community Center’s live show (they call them meetings) has all the potential to come off as cheesy or contrived. A recorded voice welcomes you, self-help-cult style, and invites you to “celebrate sound & light” & “travel the well worn pathways,” because “we are one.” A mystical backdrop gives a hint of what you’re in for (I didn’t know what I was in for...) with letters at the top reading “It will end in tears.” The band is brilliant, loose, & fun. They play all the songs. They play “Lua,” “Bad Blood,” & “Easy/Lucky/Free” from the endlessly varied Bright Eyes catalog. They turn Phoebe’s “Funeral” into a punk blast. They cover The Replacements! They wear shades and sing a song from lawn chairs! The show feels effortlessly cool and I feel like I’m part of something special again. Music has a way of doing that.

The record is perfectly equal parts Phoebe & Conor. From the opening lines, where Phoebe takes control with “my telephone it doesn’t have a camera” sounding for all the world like a gloriously mopey “Smoke Signals Vol. 2″ to the way Oberst sings the first lines of ethereal closer “Dominoes” sounding 100% like Cassadaga-era Bright Eyes. If you know & love either, you should know the other now. Phoebe carries a torch from early 2000′s emo with a sad-at-heart, genius songwriting style that emphasizes pinpoint autobiographical lyrics, a cutting, (even humorous at times) wit, and a teenage, feminist, internet, millennial heart. Oberst for his part has kept up a steady output since Bright Eyes, and (at least lyrically) doesn’t seemed to have cheered up much. Better Oblivion Community Center’s self titled debut feels fresh & catchy. While there is definitely an aching sadness in the duo’s songwriting, light hearted moments abound, and the writing often points to getting older, all hard work & growth. There is the bouncing outro to “Sleepwalkin’” where their voices rise in unison singing “Acting insane, playing it safe, I wasn’t sold on that plan anyways. Feeling afraid of making a change.” Or in the bright, rolling verses of “My City” where they go looking for “little moments of purpose.” But the one song I kept going back to; the one I recorded to cassette tape and played on almost every drive home from work at 4am through April & May, is the bittersweet closer “Dominoes.” Ironically, this one is a Taylor Hollingsworth cover (I think that’s him adding the random, spooky voice overs) but Conor takes the lead on vocals, singing a mostly lonely, hopeless tale, until the last verse when Phoebe cuts in. She’s “carpooling to kingdom come, into the wild purgatory.” Encouraging us to “Experience a magic rainbow, all you gotta’ do is follow. & if you’re not feeling ready… There’s always tomorrow.”

“The world will not remember when we’re old & tired / We’ll be blowing on the embers of a little fire…”

BIG THIEF / U.F.O.F. & Two Hands

2019 was the year that I finally finally got really really into Big Thief. A band’s band known for their live show (I still have yet to see them live) their following seems equal parts cult-y and universal. How a band that sounds the way they do, made it almost to the top of the indie-rock world is an exciting & inviting mystery.

This year, for me, the catalyst was “Cattails.” Released at the beginning of April, this song struck me and stuck with me, making its way onto almost every mix I made last Spring, Summer, & Fall (including this one for my Mom!) A real song of the year contender (& my #1 most listened to song of 2019 on spotify!), “Cattails” is a melodic, driving, beautiful tune, that finds singer & front person Adrienne Lenker marking Time (”riding that train in late June”) & Space (”going back home to the great lakes”) with grace & depth. There is a sacredness & mysticism tied up in a lot of Lenker’s writing and she refers to her writing experience with “Cattails” saying…

“It was one of those electric, multicolored waves of connectivity just sweeping through my body. I stayed up late finishing the song and the next morning was stomping around playing it over & over again. We thought why not just record it … & when James and I were playing it felt like a little portal in the fabric had opened and we were just flying. Listening back to it makes me cry sometimes.”

In truth, U.F.O.F. (the last f stands for “friend,” a way of humanizing the foreign) is a gorgeous record. Soft & gentle, full of songs about the constant tussle between things known & unknown. A real headphones-on-an-airplane record. And then, out of nowhere, Big Thief announced that they had a second (!) record on the way in the Fall. A dirt & earth twin for U.F.O.F., a special surprise gift for their burgeoning fan base. They announced Two Hands with the vicious single “Not,” a song very unlike “Cattails.” A brooding, ravenous rock song that made me remember why I love unhinged, well-written, unafraid rock & roll music. Another song of the year contender. If you’ve followed this blog the last few months, my well thought out comments to “Not” were “ohhhhhhhhhhhhh shit” & “oh my holy shit.” to the live version! But it was actually the second track on Two Hands that solidified Big Thief’s greatness for me. “Forgotten Eyes” is sonically similar to “Cattails” and rides the same effortless rhythm, driven by Lenker’s repeating guitar riff and James Krivchenia’s consistently impressive drumming. The riff seems to fall in & out magically, and the writing bookends “Cattails” with lyrics that speak to both a great pain & a great universal truth. While she wanders through homelessness & death, Lenker reflects beautifully on the life cycle we (& our planet, & maybe everything?) are all going through.

“Forgotten dance is the one left at birth / Forgotten plants in the fossils of earth / & they’ve long passed but they are no less the dirt / Of the common soil keeping us dry & warm / The wound has no direction / Everybody needs a home & deserves protection…”

BLACK BELT EAGLE SCOUT / At the Party With My Brown Friends

After finding Black Belt Eagle Scout’s debut album late last year, I soundtracked many a dusk, dawn, or midnight drive with her swirling vocals & entrancing guitar, usually in the cold & dark, through the early part of 2019. It made my 2018 favorites list, and her Larimer Lounge show in May was a highlight. I guess it makes sense then, that I didn’t truly fall for her sophomore album At the Party With My Brown Friends (released in August) until it got cold in November and I was able to take it out for some dark, snowy drives. Moody & serious at times, Black Belt Eagle Scout sounds every bit like the gray Pacific Northwest where front person Katherine Paul (KP) hails from. The lyrics are simple, repeating phrases, full of deep, important ideas. Family & friends. People & land. There are bursts of guitar coming out of rewarding slow builds, shredd-y, rhythmic, & melodic. Also, all the instruments on ATPWMBF are played by KP, and the drumming is fucking fantastic.

I have some sort of longer form writing building somewhere in the back of my mind about listening to music in cars, and both Black Belt Eagle Scout albums are perfect examples for that. I have always loved the feeling of having roads (highways or simply long straight dirt back roads) & music to listen to. In high school, we would sometimes get in the car simply to drive & listen to music (small town life ya know?) and I still relish any chance I get to take new (or old & long loved) songs & albums on road trips or just commutes around town. The time to sit with the songs, to focus on nothing but the words & melodies, instruments & voices, & the pull of the road, mystical & magical. Black Belt Eagle Scout’s songs have been a calming companion on a lot of drives over the last year, and I recommend you taking them out on a spin of your own. Drive to that coffee shop that’s 30 minutes away that you’ve been wanting to go to, drive out of town just to drive, alone with your thoughts & the road. You just might learn something about yourself.

“& I wake up / I love you / Screaming loudly / Screaming softly too / Am I here? / My heart dreams…”

BON IVER / i,i

Bon Iver is a long time favorite and if you’ve followed this blog at all, you know how much I love his albums and how much Justin Vernon’s Eaux Claires festival has helped shaped my musical timeline. Seeing 22, A Million (the record that precedes i,i) live in Wisconsin by the river for the first time, was something special. That record made my 2016 favorites list, but until this year, until i,i, my story of the music felt very insular. Special & secret for me, confined to very specific times & places. Only to make me feel certain things. It’s why I was hesitant to buy a ticket to see the Red Rocks show last September. Or why I questioned streaming the album early while I was on vacation in Holden Beach, North Carolina. I thought the songs were only meant to carry me back to the river, back to Wisconsin, back to the Summer. Back to a very specific, special place in my heart. But thanks to the wonders of spotify, and the Bon Iver crew just up and releasing the album a week early under the simple & generous guise of “wanting folks to have the album & learn the songs before the tour!!” I obliged and… YESSSS that’s how you do an album release in 2019! I had the album in my headphones as I ran and sweated on the beach in North Carolina, letting brand new songs transport me thousands of miles away.

i,i is a gloriously weird, perfected mess of a hit indie record. It’s everything I wanted the next chapter of the Bon Iver story to be. It feels personal & widescreen. Little moments stretched out and shared with family & friends. Lyrics about growth & hard work & life (& a few WTFs, it’s Bon Iver after all!) The gang’s all here again (the massive crew that worked on the album are all pictured on the record’s gloriously, weird inside gatefold!) recorded from Vernon’s home (April) base in Wisconsin, to Sonic Ranch in west Texas (also pictured in the liner notes) walking distance from our southern border. The sounds are all here again too. There are hints of For Emma’s Winter falsetto folk in the gorgeous acoustic guitar of “Marion.” There are the industrial swells & stomps, bleeps & bloops of bi, bi’s Spring in the warbling, green grass, warmth of “Holyfields.” Then there is the distortion, the choppy samples of 22, in the jigsaw glory of “iMi,” the way it starts & stops, all choruses & voices, real & programmed. Threads of new songs tied up with threads from long, long ago. There is a fullness to i,i, a generosity, a true front to back album, with hits & new favorites sprinkled everywhere. The second half blooms with the charging folk of “Salem” & “Faith” and the contentedness of closer “RABi.” These are songs that I will love for years to come. These songs make me happy. They make me think. They make me want to share them with friends. They make me want to work on relationships. Songs about life. Songs about true, unconditional friendship. As Justin said way back in 2015, when my journey with the Bon Iver story began “The story is history, nothing more. Only the music can rise anew. & it is gone as soon as it is sung. & so we sing again…” I am soo soo happy to sing again, with songs anew.

“Living in a lonesome way / Had me looking other ways / Cuz I am lost here again / But on a bright Fall morning I’m with it / I stood a little within it…”

EARTHGANG / Mirrorland

EARTHGANG’s major label debut Mirrorland comes in hot & dancing, a hip hop duo with a true tribute to Southern culture, and a whole world encapsulated in 14 tracks. My personal introduction to the EARTHGANG universe, came courtesy of a dusk till dark dance fest at Denver’s Underground Music Showcase on South Broadway back in sweaty July. Their energy was infectious, their stories hilarious, & their songs stuck in my head. Specifically the Young Thug featuring “Proud Of U,” a song that carries enthusiasm & positivity through to the end. Other standouts include colorful, bouncing opener “LaLa Challenge,” & the squealing horns of Atlanta hot spot, name dropping “Wings.” A concept album of sorts Mirrorland references “The Wiz” as a jumping off point saying,

“We thought about how, if we’re going to make a project sonically to rival The Wiz, we got to create another world for people to imagine & go to. You know when Dorothy got swept away and she met the Munchkins? That was such a beautiful thing. You could see Quincy Jones on the piano, just playing away. It’s really colorful. It’s really dangerous. It’s really trippy. It’s literally Freaknik Atlanta in the summertime—folks riding around in cars with big rims with paint on their faces.”

EARTHGANG was formed in 2008 by high school buddies Johnny Venus & Doctur Doc in Atlanta, GA. It’s impossible to ignore Outkast comparisons and for their part, EARTHGANG does their best to keep up the Southern hip hop tradition. Mixing in bits of soul, blues, & jazz, Mirrorland plays like an homage, a soundtrack to the South. A real reminder that the album is not dead. These songs sound best played together. Also, that the hip hop group, or duo, is not dead. And finally, that touring and playing live shows is most definitely not dead. I probably still wouldn’t have heard about EARTHGANG if it wasn’t for their primo UMS slot (at the same Import Mechanics stage where Leikeli47 & Kiltro played!) and infectiously positive live show. Speaking of their live show, see y’all at Cervantes on February 3!

“One time, one time for your baby moms / Two time for the hand in the candy jar / Holy Ghost showed up in my favorite thong / Three times in the car for the way we are / Another white man scared, another black man dead / Another rich man war, another red man bled / I been writing this album down way too long / When I drop my shit, pray it hit the toilet like lala, lalalalala...”

FRUIT BATS / Gold Past Life

In the Autumn of 2013, my coworker Cassandra Disney at Mile High Organics played me “When You Love Somebody” by Fruit Bats (had that song already been out for 10 years in 2013?!) on one of her early morning work mixes, and I immediately put it on one of my favorite (if embarrassingly bro-folk heavy) mixes I have ever made myself. Discovering a weird/cool indie band in the vein of all my other loves (Band of Horses, The Shins, Modest Mouse, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, etc…) but more underground (!) was hipster heaven. I subsequently forgot about Fruit Bats for awhile, but was reminded with their graceful “comeback” album Absolute Loser in 2016. Although that one missed my favorites list, it gradually became a constant road trip companion; from the mountains of Colorado, through the great American Southwest, and even on some epic Mexican back roads. All alt-country, lost 70′s AM radio classics, and wistful, witty, & wise writing about highways and scenery. A true classic.

I was therefore super excited for Gold Past Life (Fruit Bats’s seventh album?!) to drop on Merge Records this Summer, and fell in love pretty quickly on a late afternoon drive across the high road between Taos and Santa Fe, New Mexico back in late June. Swirling guitar, bouncy piano. and Eric D. Johnson’s piercing, clear, impassioned vocals. Fruit Bats sound timeless & effervescent. Upbeat guitar rock with some weird twists, and Johnson’s consistently bittersweet, humorous, & big hearted lyrics. Growing up, growing older, & grinning a wry smile at a golden world. After catching back to back beautiful Fruit Bats shows in Fort Collins & here in Denver at the Bluebird this September, these folks are the real deal. Long live touring bands, long live seventh albums, long live music marking time & space! Here’s to many more Fruit Bats albums, Gold Past Life will be car stereo classic for awhile.

“Still waiting around for some mystical shift in the winds / So honey please, don’t go just yet / Cigarette fingers, a shake in the knees / A bit blue, kind of tired, but not broken… Anticipating a magical bend in the road / So hang on, take it slow / Your go bag is packed & your hangover gone / Another dawn at the edge of the known world…”

HISS GOLDEN MESSENGER / Terms of Surrender

Durham, North Carolina’s Hiss Golden Messenger (folklorist, family man, & singer-songwriter MC Taylor & revolving crew) have become something of a mainstay on this music blog & in my car’s cd player over the last five years. I picked up a used (!), advance (!) copy of Lateness of Dancers in the $1 bin at a record store in Seattle, Washington. after having been passed a burned copy of his 2010 solo album Bad Debt by an old coworker. Lateness ended up on my 2014 favorites list. Two years later, Heart Like A Levee made my 2016 list, and the next year, Hallelujah Anyhow was one of my favorites of 2017! I referred to the songs on Hallelujah as Hiss “building a repertoire, creating a legacy.” This may seem like quite a bit of superfluous backstory, but believe me, it is essential to the story, a journal of the journey. Geographic art for a topographic heart if you will. But anyway, Terms of Surrender…

The title is cryptic, referencing (as Taylor puts it “what we are prepared to sacrifice in order to live the lives that we think we want”) and the songs are deep (& growing deeper) & timeless. Not so much timeless in the way Yola’s songs sound timeless (skip down a few albums on this list to read about Yola!) but timeless in the way the songs seem to seep their way into my bones and stay for years. Terms burst on the scene with the release of the first single “I Need a Teacher” back in stormy June. With bright, rolling guitar stabs courtesy of The National’s Aaron Dessner (whose upstate New York recording studio was home for the Terms recording sessions), “Teacher” is about “the search for infallible guidance in an ever-changing universe.” but it is also about everyday work. Dedicated every night of the tour to all the teachers in the room, a political statement wrapped up in the seemingly obvious sentiment of “Defend Public Schools.” See what I mean? Timeless songs written for the here & now. “Bright Direction” & “My Wing” are reminiscent of Hallelujah’s “Jenny” & “Darkness.” a 1-2 punch of driving, drifting major key numbers, written from a hillside in Virginia, high on mushrooms. They contain multitudes. With a murky middle (Brad Cook gets funky on “Old Enough to Wonder Why” & “Cat’s Eye Blue”) & the already canonical Hiss’ live fav “Happy Birthday Baby,” the back half of Terms spreads out the Hiss’ sound in new ways. New live favorite, the nostalgic “Down at the Uptown,” had me googling maps of San Francisco to find the mythical Uptown bar where Taylor first heard Patti Smith’s Horses.

In late October, Hiss played an absolutely glorious three night run at little Globe Hall over in Globeville, just Southeast of where Interstate 70 meets Interstate 25. I went to all three shows. The shows were special & career spanning; from “Jesus Shot Me in the Head,” to Dead covers (& a Jesus & Mary Chain cover!) to all the Terms songs. I spent the Saturday afternoon before show #2, walking around the disappearing & rapidly gentrifying neighborhood in & around Globeville (& drifting across the highway into Sunnyside) listening to Terms of Surrender on my headphones. Thinking about the things I’m willing to sacrifice, thinking about the life I want, what are my Terms? After all, “It’s a real live world & I wanna live in it.”

“Something drove me crazy / Love had me lazy / Backwards won’t get me to my destination / Move me in some bright direction / Looking to be captured, looking for my freedom / Oh, dreams will come to get you / So careful what you’re wishing / Your family might correct you / Your heart might take a pounding / Make sure you take a picture…”

JUNE JONES / Diana

I can’t remember where I first heard of June Jones, but I’d like to think it was from one of my many Australian music friends (thanks Camp Cope, Julia Jacklin, Middle Kids, Courtney Barnett, Gang of Youths etc…!) The music community is a wonderful thing. June’s songs can be hard to explain, but Diana is an epic album that burns with a steady, stately drama. Most of the songs ride swelling synths and measured, 80’s sounding drums and center around June’s unique, emotive voice and head turning lyrics. Jones had fronted the Australian rock band Two Steps on the Water and written songs on the guitar for many years, but it’s pretty clear from listening to the writing and sound on Diana that these songs were meant for piano, synth, and a solo album. Her own writing. Her own words.

The album begins with the brooding “Rome From Afar” and the opening line “I got drunk again last night & I fell down outside the bathroom at my little sister’s party.” It then follows a dancing bass line into an apocalyptic nightmare of a world ending. “Meryl” is a gorgeous, autobiographical (?) song, an ode to “complicated” hard working women everywhere. There are parts of Diana that nod to it being a break up album, like in the gorgeously melancholic “Boulder Falling Slow” (”I am a boulder falling slow / You’re a magnificent spiderweb”) but I have been viewing it as just a complex, everyday life album. Jones lets her magnificent voice trail slowly over seemingly uncomfortable or awkward topics that she strives to make… not so. Sorry Alex Cameron, your “eating your ass like an oyster” line in “Miami Memory” is only the second best “eating ass” line this year after Jones’ “Look at You Go!” Her voice often belies the emotion in her lyrics, she works it up & down, and lets it stretch out over words, like in lonely closer “Sixteen Horses,” but she also sounds almost matter of fact at times. There is a moment in the piano led “Thorn” where she glibly throws “Have you seen the moon tonight? No, me neither, who cares about the moon when everything is dying?” over an understated horn trill. Everything is dying after all, but I want June Jones to sing it to me like an Australian Lana Del Rey or Matt Berninger. Trust me, you’ll be hearing more about June Jones in the coming years. Watch out.

“I haven’t thought too much about family / Ain’t got no husband or a couple of kids / I’ve spent 26 years in this office / I said goodbye to my relationships a long time ago / What does the mayor of a small town heart do after she retires?”

JUSTIN PETER KINKEL-SCHUSTER / Take Heart, Take Care

My long time music friend Adam over at songsfortheday had been trying to tell me about Justin Peter Kinkel-Schuster for quite a few mixes with songs I loved from his 2016 release Constant Stranger. But it somehow wasn’t until I needed Take Heart, Take Care, that Schuster’s work hit me right. It didn’t feel like a light at the end of the tunnel, but more like a light in the tunnel, something lasting, a collection of songs lifting up & out towards a light. As Schuster wrote upon it’s release…

“Here, I’ve fumbled my way, as always, and of necessity, into a collection of songs that hold a light to the joys & comforts of life not given up on, those that appear over time as we are looking elsewhere, to surprise & delight us when we need them most. Sure, it’s me, so there are glimpses of and nods to the dark, but the dark is not winning anymore. I simply mean to acknowledge its presence. To me, that’s the most fundamental job of songs, of stories, of all art — to be allies, friends, companions, when we need them most and it’s my hope that these songs can do that work in a world that seems to need it. If you are lucky enough to have something good to say, say it. Please. We’ll thank each other, now & later.”

So i guess it’s that second part that I have found solace in through my 20′s and into my 30′s. That songs (and stories & all art, but songs & albums seem to be my thing) can be allies, friends, & companions, and that sometimes (like Hanif Abdurraqib wrote in his brilliant collection of essays “They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us”)…

“If you believe, as I do, that a blessing is a brief breath to take in that doesn’t taste of whatever is holding you under: say I Speak To God In Public and mean more than just in his house, or mean more than just next to people who might also speak to God in public, or say God and mean whatever has kept you alive when so many other things have failed to.“

Take Heart, Take Care is a straightforward, well written, indie rock album. The songs ring true with light & darkness, an uplifting take on growing older and finding “Plenty Wonder” still to be found in the world. Schuster played the Hi-Dive on South Broadway in November, the last show on the Take Heart tour. A show I had bought tickets for months in advance, and I found myself in a crowd of maybe 15 people, celebrating the songs of Take Heart, Take Care. Listening to a writer with something good to say. Trying all in our own way to hold our own. I have a feeling I’ll keep these songs with me for awhile.

“Time is the mender / Whose strange mechanics yet untold / Bid us rise entwined together / So take heart, take care / Be true but beware / & honey we need not be scared…”

KARA JACKSON / A Song for Every Chamber of the Heart

In only 10 minutes & 42 seconds, Kara Jackson creates an intimate, magical world with just her voice and a guitar on her debut EP A Song for Every Chamber of the Heart. Four intricate & intentional songs, none longer than three minutes, finger picked slowly & methodically, Jackson balances a poetic, whimsical wandering with a steely focus on the craft of songwriting. These are the bones of songs, played honest & upfront, with no adornment. There is room for Jackson’s lyrics to really shine, all aching & wistful, yet practical. Like the way she balances “I have a crush, I have an ache” with “I know that love’s just a pain in the ass” in the bittersweet “Crush.” Her songs buzz with a youthful energy & teen angst. Wise beyond their years, finding their way in the world. As a songwriter and a poet, Jackson writes about race, activism, social justice, self, bodies, & humanity.

At 20 (!) years old, Chicago’s Jackson is... oh also a poet. The 2019 National Youth Poet Laureate (!) in fact, and it was her absolutely breathtaking writing about being a teenager that first caught my attention. She quotes Gwendolyn Brooks (pulitzer prize winning American poet) in her Ted Talk saying “write what’s under your nose.” She says that Brooks took the mundane and put it on a pedestal. That she understood there are “poems in train cars, poems on front lawns, & poems in microwaves & tea kettles.” An almost obligation to celebrate the ordinary. Ordinary folks celebrating similar ordinary folks. It’s the way that John Darnielle howls on The Mountain Goats song “Werewolf Gimmick” (track nine on 2015′s Beat the Champ) about “nameless bodies in unremembered rooms.” In his prerelease essay for Merge Records, music writer Joseph Fink wrote that the entire career of The Mountain Goats has been about “giving names to nameless bodies and remembering unremembered rooms.” and what a worthy cause that is. That thought has stuck with me for years and I have always loved the specificity of it. Whether it is Darnielle resurrecting historical characters real or fictional, or the way Lady Lamb (keep reading a few more albums down!) celebrates the specifics of her friends & family, in all the messy details. Written in song, remembered forever. It is also essential that all cultures have artists who look like them and think like them, as the ones doing the remembering. It’s why it’s so important that Kara Jackson is the one doing the remembering for young black girls. The same way Eve Ewing did for her, and Gwendolyn Brooks did before that. I can appreciate the magic of the remembering, but I need to let them be the ones to tell the stories. Oh, speaking of appreciating, I bugged Jackson enough on social media and got a handmade PHYSICAL copy of the EP that I’m hanging onto forever cuz it’s probably gonna be like the next original pressing of Bon Iver’s For Emma! Thanks Kara!

“Don’t take my pillowcase, that's my place to be alone / Don’t take my lamp from me, it helps me read about places I don’t know / Don’t take a lot for me to be on my own...”

KILTRO / Creatures of Habit

My end of the year albums list usually has at least one local Denver band. The Lumineers way back in 2012, Gregory Alan Isakov & Covenhoven in 2013, Nathaniel Rateliff, Covenhoven (again!), & The Yawpers in 2015, Nina de Freitas in 2017 (hey Nina & the Hold Tight, new album in 2020 please?!), and Izcalli last year. Kiltro is a part Coloradan, part Chilean folk band that have been putting on one of my favorite live shows around town this year. The brainchild of Chris Bowers-Castillo, a native Coloradan who spent time growing up in Valparaiso, Chile, Kiltro is named after the Spanish word “Quiltro” meaning a mixed breed dog. A dog that Kiltro has taken for their logo. In their own way, Kiltro is a mix breed; both in the way they mix the sounds of South America with the folk music of North America, and also the way they mix organic, acoustic instrumentation, with electronic, looping sounds and effects pedals. Their live show is a masterclass in layers, with Bowers-Castillo adding loops of guitar rhythms (sometimes simply bare hands slapping beats on the top of the guitar) to steady bass & drums, until the songs swell & build into dramatic crescendos and almost EDM-influenced drops. The extended intros & outros are my favorite parts of their songs and the live versions (from their sweaty 2pm UMS dance party, to Lulu’s Downstairs in Manitou Springs) have stirred hearts & feet alike with dancing not usually found in the Colorado “indie-hipster” scene. Keep an eye on these guys and maybe come out to Larimer Lounge in January and witness the dance party for yourself!

“Somewhere down the bank where the dogs go / Por la calle que te lleva a Curicó / & down the beach, where no others can find / Ni por agua, piso, coche, ni avión...”

LADY LAMB / Even in the Tremor

As I have been writing this year’s favorites list, I’m realizing that so many of the albums I loved & learned, came hand in hand with experiencing the artist, and specifically that new album, live. Lady Lamb released Even in the Tremor, her masterful & moving third album, way back in April, and I had a Spring-y three weeks to learn all her intricate, visceral lyrics to sing back at her Larimer Lounge stop in Denver on the Deep Love tour. Maine by way of Brooklyn’s (by way of a bunch of other places) Aly Spaltro has always written songs for Lady Lamb like her hair’s on fire. Wailing & gasping about blood & guts & death over spiraling electric guitar, there is a realness to her writing that reminds me of the east coast emo I grew up on. But for all the blood red gore & messy heartbreak that colors much of the Lady Lamb discography, there is a light hearted tenderness as well. Tremor has songs written for & about friends, lovers, parents, & god. Quirky opener “Little Flaws” is a first-dance-worthy love song, while personal favorites “Strange Maneuvers” & “Emily” are odes to platonic friendships, mental health, & growing up. In the same way I wrote about Kara Jackson celebrating the ordinary, Lady Lamb has always celebrated specifics of people, time & space. Tremor’s characters are Spaltro’s real life people (Emily, Shervin, Kurt (Kurtie Bear), Isaac, & her Mom), and the places (the diner, the batting cage, Templehof Park, Midtown, Berlin, Montreal, Madrid, a fast food joint, the stage of a church, someplace upstate, Lavanderia & Graham Ave) are specific, varied, & globe spanning. Her stories are autobiographical and rewarding and the music is stirring, singer-songwriter rock & roll with some punch behind it. She is one of my favorite modern writers for her ability to not just tell a story, but to find wonder in the small things and to celebrate the ordinary. Like she tells Shervin, minutes before “Emily” closes the album on a gorgeous, uplifting high note, “No photographic artifact, but here is something better than that.”

“There’s a picture that I found, my first car in the falling snow / Seems like yesterday I drove down into low tide / & Isaac snapped a polaroid of me pretending I was sinking, pressed against the glass pleading / I misplaced it but I’m looking... / When we are young, if only we could see beyond our fears where we are free / When we are lonely if only we could know that in our stillness we are growing... / All the portraits we collected, while we were running around in the desert / We were trying to seem fulfilled to rewrite our New York City narratives / But Emily we were utterly dejected / We took turns crying on the passenger side of America / Too clouded to be empowered by towering Redwoods... / When did we lose the ancient truths? / Is it what we’re born bending our bodies toward?...”

LIZZO / Cuz I Love You

For much of 2019, Lizzo could be heard playing everywhere. The 31 year old Minnesotan’s third full length album Cuz I Love You, came out in April, after a busy three years of huge singles, consistent touring, & building a repertoire of songs capable of headlining arenas. When Lizzo finally exploded these last few years, it has been fun watching the whole world embrace her uptempo, bold, self-love anthems, and hearing them blaring from open Subaru windows in Cap HIll, from balconies & rooftops in uptown, and on the lips of countless joggers & bikers, loving themselves in the Denver Summer sun. I know for my part, I took Lizzo with me to the beaches of North Carolina & through the Southern mountains of Colorado, dancing, singing, & gleefully giggling along. Bottom line, the songs on Cuz I Love You are FUN! You try not to crack a smile as Lizzo romps through “Never been in love before, what the fuck are fucking feelings yo?” on the bouncing, brassy, vocal led, track one title track MOMENT. Or the way she makes up the word “accessorary” on the spot (“my ass is not an accessorary”) and then fires back with “Yeah, I said it, accessorary!” Lizzo has been an outspoken supporter of our generation’s version of the self-love, body positivity movement, and has put her money (and body) where her mouth is, inspiring legions of teens & twenty somethings to do the same. “Soulmate” is a loner anthem that finds Lizzo belting “True love ain’t something you can buy yourself / True love finally happens when you’re by yourself / So if you by yourself, then go and buy yourself another round from the bottle on the higher shelf.” The soulful slowdown “Jerome” is about being the bigger person and ending a relationship that isn’t working. Lizzo manages to actually address her own issues, focus on the work she needs to do (“I’m trying to be patient & patience takes practice.”) and still absolutely belt a singalong chorus that rhymes Jerome with “take your ass home.” Also, the deluxe version of Cuz I Love You tacks on three previous Lizzo singles that hadn’t found an album home. Those singles? “Boys,” “Truth Hurts,” & “Water Me.” Three songs totaling almost 555 MILLION plays on Spotify. With apologies to Ariana Grande & Billie Eilish (Billie see ya in a few months at the Pepsi Center!) Lizzo is the biggest superstar that I want on this list. And she 100% deserves every bit of it.

“If I’m shinin’ everybody gonna’ shine...”

ORVILLE PECK / pony

There is an appealing, theatrical quality to the dramatic country songs on Orville Peck’s debut record Pony. I spent my high school years growing up in small town Western Colorado so country music has been embedded in my brain since I was 11. I’ve gone through so many phases of loving it, hating it, loving it ironically, nostalgically, hating it for it’s sound, cheesiness, backwards politics, etc... But with Pony; these are true country songs written by a gay, masked cowboy anti-hero from.. Toronto? Maybe? Who is Orville Peck?!?! It’s like all the best parts of “country” music came together. And the mask? The fringe? All the packaging & theatrics? It makes it fun. Part Bowie, part Coheed & Cambria, part Grace Jones, part Ghost, part Brandon Flowers. Hollywood meets Vegas meets Carson City.

When I listen to Orville Peck’s songs it brings together so many feelings from my youth. From country radio & boxes of old country cds, to the dramatic side of theatre, play acting on a stage, dress-up, halloween, cowboys, loneliness, & the open road. From the tumbleweed roll & mournfully powerful coyote howl of opener “Dead of Night,” to the shoegaze rumble, autumn ride of “Winds Change.” Peck’s lyrics are honest & heartfelt, drawing on sweeping, western imagery, & idolizing the classic country ideal... the cowboy. Music marks time & place and Peck makes sure to reference the cities along his highway songs. Salt Lake City, Las Vegas, Carson City, Kansas, a veritable Rand McNally road map of the American West. In the same manner as both Black Belt Eagle Scout albums, Fruit Bats, & Caroline Rose from last year, it wasn’t until a highway drive that I truly fell in love with Pony. It was a brilliant November sunset & still warm, but windy & changing, and we knew we had to hustle to beat the snow back to Denver. Highway 159 from the Southern Colorado border through Costilla County, on the way towards Fort Garland & then Walsenburg. Purple & Orange out the window to my left, Winter on it’s way. Peck’s songs sang with a heartache... a loss. a rhinestone loneliness that country finds a way to revel in. When “Kansas (Remembers Me Now)” statics out like a long lost FM radio. When “Hope to Die” fake ends at 3:30 and instead key change pivots like a washed-up Broadway starlet, shooting her shot on a dusty jukebox. When “Nothing Fades Like the Light” draws its last, peaceful breath, closing Pony like the last light of that November sunset. Thanks Orville, this one’s a classic.

“Fell in love with a rider / Dirt king, black crown / Six months on a knucklehead hog / I like him best when he's not around / He gets me high, oh, big sky... Fell in love with a boxer / Stayed awake all year / Heartbreak is a warm sensation / When the only feeling that you know is fear / I don't know why, oh, big sky...”

RAPSODY / Eve

Rapsody’s third album Eve is a masterclass on rap music, and the Snow Hill, North Carolina rapper sounds relaxed & loose, while still staying focused & on topic with an album that reads as, as Rapsody herself puts it “a love letter to all black women including myself.” She is at the top of her game right now, and these songs cement Rapsody as one of the premier rappers in an exciting field of rap talent both young & old.

Each track on the album is dedicated to one of Rapsody’s personal heroes, and I am going to focus these words & my research for Eve (besides listening to it nonstop, which I’m currently doing now!) on those black women. Track one is for Nina Simone (”without Nina there’s no Lauryn Hill, & without Lauryn Hill there’s no Rapsody.”) and features critically important verses about black heritage & culture over Nina’s terrifying & sobering classic “Strange Fruit.” Rapsody is recognizing her legacy and the importance of heritage, but she is clearly claiming her spot in that bloodline. “Cleo” preaches standing up for yourself over a Phil Collins sample (between Cleo & Lucy Dacus, “In the Air Tonight” is getting some serious love this year!) and is named after Queen Latifah’s character in the 1996 movie “Set it Off.” From there Rapsody recognizes artists (Aaliyah), philanthropists (Oprah & Michelle Obama), actresses (Whoopi), athletes (Serena Williams & Ibtihaj Muhammed), writers (Maya Angelou & Reyna Biddy), models (Iman & Tyra Banks), and historical figures & activists (Hatshepsut, Myrlie Evers-Williams, Sojourner Truth, & Afeni Shakur). Bottom line, ALL of these women are essential google material (you’re reading this on your phone or laptop, google and give yourself a five minute refresher if there’s anyone you don’t already know!) While you’re at it, google the lyrics for Eve (and Jamila Woods’ equally incredible, equally name dropping LEGACY! LEGACY!) and listen along. This is an important time capsule document for Rapsody and it’s just a damn good rap album.

“I am Nina & Roberta, the one you love but ain't heard of / Got my middle finger up like Pac after attempted murder / Failed to kill me, it's still me, woke up singing Shirley Murdock / As we lay these edges down, brown women, we so perfect...”

SABA LOU / Novum Ovum

When I listen to Saba Lou’s intoxicating sophomore album Novum Ovum, I am transported to somewhere magical & different. Maybe older, maybe out of place & time. Everything about Novum feels… classic. From the dusty, record-store-bin-find look of the out of focus cover photo, to the laidback natural way Saba Lou seems to dance along on top of a rollicking house band lifted from the 70’s. There are elements of surf rock, shoegaze, late night soul, and classic rock & roll on Ovum, but it is all driven by the singular writing & vocals of Saba Lou. In the liner notes of the record, a note can be found, claiming that this album is meant to be from the future. 2286 to be exact! Is a concept album?! Is it actually from the future & delivered to us by a time traveling band of Germans?!! Does it have songs about Star Trek??!! Maybe, mayyyybeee... & YES!

Yet to turn 20 (!), Saba Lou is a German born singer songwriter who has been making & releasing music since she was literally six years old! Novum Ovum is Latin for “the new egg” and features a hot four piece full band, and wonderfully fleshed out songs that bounce and swing with palpable energy. The lyrics span an awesomely wide spectrum from endometriosis pain (the title track obv) to a Star Trek mindmeld tune sung from the perspective of Gracie the pregnant whale (closer “Humpback in Time”)!! All in all, Saba Lou is an absolutely electric songwriter and her youthfulness & fervor are contagious. It’s the reason I love making this list every year, and what makes discovering new music so exciting. Can’t wait for the next one!

“A brick wall around your placenta / Cut them all off from her mother blood / The hounds call for appassionata / A phoenetic paste for the fetal bud...”

SHARON VAN ETTEN / Remind Me Tomorrow

Over the last few years I started the practice of making a draft favorite albums list in January and adding albums throughout the year, as I fall in love with them. This way I don’t forget the ones I loved in January & February, the ones that got me through the backend of the Winter. I’m able to track my year in music as it develops, a sort of captain’s log. A living, personal journal using music to mark time & space as I sprint my way through another increasingly faster, increasingly chaotic year. Sometimes, scrolling through the list acts as a comfort. “That album only came out this year?! OK, this year isn’t moving too fast, that feels like forevvverrrr ago!” Sometimes it helps to show me how much I’ve grown, how much an album has meant, or has helped with my mental & emotional growth. This year, the very first album I added to that list, the very first album that I fell hard & holy hell in love with... was Sharon Van Etten’s Remind Me Tomorrow.

A blast of energy. A weird synthy, pulsing red & blue darkness. Simultaneously club-y & indie rock vibey. Van Etten’s fifth album is supposedly written from a place of contentment. A marriage, a child, a life & happiness discovered. Less desperation, more introspection. I hear in her voice & words, how taking care of yourself, how striving to be your best self, can bring out the most powerful, most emotional art. She also isn’t afraid to let her voice go and I think her vocal performances are what truly take Tomorrow to another level. “Memorial Day” rides a haunting vocal loop & tumbles in nearly wordless, glimmering vowels, all ethereal magnificence. The chorus of the brooding “Jupiter 4″ spirals upwards & then rollercoasters, a late night drunken banger. But at the heart of Remind Me Tomorrow sits one of my songs of the year, one of my songs of the decade, “Seventeen.” I had heard it first live, way back in October 2018 in the rain in the mountains at Red Rocks. I got tipsy & wrote about it the day it came out, January 8, 2019, after a long, cold stretch working the night shift. This album & especially this song will stay with me for a long time. Sharon has taught me to keep working on myself. To look back in fondness. To think about how, with hard work, how much joy & peace & comfort await in my coming years. But she also taught me to lean into emotions. To embrace the ache of memories and the bittersweetness of growing up. Thanks for making this album Sharon.

“Downtown hotspot, halfway up the street / I used to be free, I used to be 17 / Follow my shadow around your corner / I used to be 17, now you're just like me / Down beneath the ashes & stone / Sure of what I've lived and have known / I see you so uncomfortably alone / I wish I could show you how much you've grown...”

TIM BAKER / Forever Overhead

I have a special feeling tied to the collection of intimate, swirling songs Tim Baker released this year from Canada. Forever Overhead carries a certain small town holiness, recognizable to those who grew up in small towns , but specific to his own personal, north-north-eastern-eastern “small” town, St Johns, in Newfoundland & Labrador, Canada. Growing up on the farthest coast of the Atlantic on the tippy, tippy point of Canada (seriously google it!), Baker fronted emo band Hey Rosetta! for four albums until striking out this Spring on his own with Arts & Crafts Records. There is a very Springsteen-esque bent to the way he writes about growing up somewhere (as someone) small & wanting to be somewhere very big and exciting. He captures the bittersweetness of growing up so perfectly. From the teenage romantic feelings in swaying opener “Dance” & the rousing “Mirrors,” to the friends & bars & singing found in the melancholic “Spirit” and the absolute hit “All Hands.” The latter is the core of the album, a bright, rhythmic guitar number that builds & swells with voices & instrumentation to a few huge, singalong choruses. A real song of the year contender. Baker isn’t afraid to let the songs go on journeys on Forever Overhead and they rarely finish where they begin. Horns & handclaps burst in at points, celebratory & fearless. The sexual tension of “Strange River” is lightened with a false start and a “sorry. In ‘D’” followed by a belly laugh, before restarting. The light & dark are present throughout Overhead and listening to these songs remind me of growing up. I feel like I’m being given a secret glance into Baker’s youth and the parts that mirror mine make me want to lift my voice in unison with those that understand. Sometimes small collections of well written & well played songs can do that, and to me... it’s sacred. Hopefully I get a chance to visit St Johns someday, and if I do, these songs will be playing as my soundtrack.

“A boy in bed, all the windows wide / You can hear the hot rods running from the light / From the light, into the dark / That's all I wanted in my cousin's car / To listen to the wind & to the lead guitars / & feel the reckless running of your heart / Now is that gone or does that all remain? / Can I go back and have it all again? / Well now I know it, where I'm going / I'm going back behind the river / I'm going back behind the rain / Cuz no matter where you're heading / You end up where you’ve been...”

YOLA / Walk Through Fire

It’s clear from the first minute & 30 seconds of Yola’s debut full-length Walk Through Fire, that this album is destined to be an all-time classic. She comes in slow & wistful with “wish I knew what you were wishing for...” over a soft wash of cymbals and mournful country-soul guitar. Then one minute in, her voice swells to gigantic proportions, seeming to lift the song right off the page, carried into another stratosphere, timeless & magnetic. That “Faraway Look” in your eyes.

From there, Yola (36 year old Yolanda Quartey from Bristol, England) takes her commanding voice through bluesy, fiddle-led country (”It Ain’t Easier” & the title track), and laid back soul (”Shady Grove” & “Deep Blue Dream”). Personal fav “Ride Out In The Country” became a backroads, summer anthem for me this year on multiple trips through Southern & Western Colorado. Through it all, her voice booms, whispers, & rocks gently, propelling the songs forward with warmth & light. Her lyrics are full of both dreamy memories & work-a-day stories about the challenges of life. It was fun this year to have different friends & family members get into Yola at different times, getting texts like “have you heard of YOLA??!!” Sharing songs, & collections of songs (like the ones on Walk Through Fire) is what makes making this list every year so fun, and I’m always excited to see what new, life-long favorites I will discover. See you in a couple months at the Bluebird Theater on Colfax here in Denver Yola!! Can’t wait!

“A little shady grove / A memory long ago / A tale too old to know the ending / I gave it all away / It takes my breath away...”

#yola #tim baker #Sharon Van Etten #saba lou #Rapsody #orville peck #lizzo #lady lamb #kiltro #kara jackson #june jones #hiss golden messenger #fruit bats #earthgang #bon iver #black belt eagle scout #big thief #better oblivion community center #justin peter kinkel-schuster

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fadekookie · 6 years

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The Closet Game: I

Author: @fadekookie

Genre: Urban Legen!AU, thriller, romance, psychological, existentialism, horror, interdimensional? spooky?

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Warnings: imitable behavior, horror themes

Word Count: 2990

Summary: The Closet Game was something you’d only heard of once in your life. You’d only pondered, until the point a pair of red eyes gleamed with a ferocity only possibly matched by yours. And so up to this point, you’d only pondered, but now you knew this couldn’t possibly be real. Until you dared the inferno in the eyes, until you challenged the ruby glare, until you bore a stare so wild and enraged you tore your way through this inversion, to him.

A/N: CHAPTER ONE IS UP HSDJHCVSJVC YAY !!!! I CANNOT EXPRESS HOW HAPPY I AM ABOUT THIS I’VE FINALLY DEVOTED MYSELF TO SERIES AND I AM SO DETERMINED TO FINISH IT!!! If you’re reading this without reading the prologue, you may be confused. The prologue is important to the entirety of the story!! ENJOY !!!! this chapter is dedicated to @shuasent

P | I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X

Reality is not real. It has never been proven nor tested. Only believed to be because, well, what else would you believe?

Reality is unclear and distant, like a memory. Every moment of your life being ironically vapid. Though you felt things, it was all null and conveniently explained. Not in the scientific sense, but in the sense that things happen for a reason and you feel a particular way for a reason. The problem posed though, you will always feel something.

However, it never felt that way. It felt muted and programmed. It was a routine. Just as the one sitting in your planner or calendar. Routine work, routine play, routine love. And it was all, mute.

Colors lived in you, yes, but each moment in time was distant, fading too fast. You’d always hated how the sun set so fast. You saw colors— you felt them, heard them, smelled them, tasted them. Though, you were bereft of a sixth sense.

You spent all your life dreaming of this sixth maybe even seventh sense, but you could feel nothing louder nor brighter than now.

Now was red.

It tasted red, felt red, looked red, smelled red, and sounded red.

Red was no longer a color to you. It was a vortex. A wormhole.

Red wasn’t blood. Red did not mean stop. Red was not sensual.

Instead red was a pair of eyes, and that’s all it ever would be. A pair of eyes so rampant you were no spiral down them. A pair of eyes so hot with fire you felt the tangible melt around you until it was only this red.

Until red devoured you and set your skin ablaze as embers licked at your curves. Until red burnt to black and only eyes among a pitch black realm remained.

Eyes polarized by the dark seemed to glow brighter as time slipped by.

Your own stare frantic you searched the black for anything of contrast. You looked down to see that your limbs were not there, perhaps having been swallowed by flame or suffocated with night. You heard nothing; no muffled hum of the air conditioning or distant sliding of heavy balcony doors by your neighbors. Sounds that lived in your home like family dissolved like sugar into the space. Only your eyes and the one’s in front of you were spared by the inferno.

You thought this a dream, an unreal reality just as you did the world before. Maybe some sick form of sleep paralysis that you were bound to wake up from...

....but then you felt it.

The millions of suns gnawing at you, at your mind and soul. Incinerations penetrating your soul in a pain unknown to you and you fathomed to man himself.

Trapped in your mind, you yelled. You yelled because that’s all you could do. Screams echoing against the constraints of your conscience. The sound wasn’t there.

The ballroom was flushed with wealth. Chandeliers hung from the high ceiling with crystals dripping from them just as prodigality dripped from every person in the space. Business is all it was with august marble floors and ridiculously expensive Hors d’oeuvre. The finger foods seemed to float around you like feathers in air as staff in tailcoats made rounds about the grand marble tiles.

The sounds of Shostakovich stretched to the corners of the space as businessmen endlessly found their way to you. Events like these weren’t rare in your new life. Being among the top 30 under 30 has those perks. Though lavish living lost much of its meaning when each step you take as a competitor on the market is one that is unambiguously monitored. One scandal, one look in the wrong direction, one breath at the wrong time and empires crumble.

You recognized the figure approaching you: Zhang Yixing, founder of LaySoft. His company had started at around the same time as yours, growing and competing at the same pace. He was the competition and you calculated every movement around people like him.

“Mr. Zhang,” you smiled, champagne in hand as he came to a stop before you. His hair was slicked back to exaggerate the contours of his face. Round, silver glasses rested on his pointed nose further complementing the dimensions of his cheeks. The suit fit him well, you thought. You assumed it was part of the new Ermenegildo Zegna collection. Of course, you saw this exact three-piece on a runway in Milan only a week ago.

“Y/N, please, call me by my first name. You’re making me feel old.” He smirked revealing perfect teeth. He took a step closer, “We’re not too far apart, you know?”

“I’m well aware, Mr. Zhang,” you continued throwing him a playful wink, all part of the procedure. “I must always be on my toes around you.” Your lips stretched into a more sensuous shape. Routine, it was all routine with him and those like him. Though he did nothing wrong, he was fully capable of it. You played your cards right.

He was frustrated but amused nonetheless. Yes, of course, you played them right. People were always easy to read to you.

“All I ask, Miss (y/l/n) is that you keep me young as well.” He played the game too. “It’s not fair you’re the only one having fun.”

No use being coy anymore, next card.

“Yixing,” you succumbed, “care for a dance.” You said this with conviction as you placed the flute of bubbly on a glass table beside you.

“Would I?” he returned taking your hand in his and leading you to the dance floor. Your dress was a flowing red, flattering your youth among the entrepreneurial gods. “I must say, you’re absolutely ravishing in that color.”

“You sound old,” you completed simply as he placed a large hand on your waist beginning to waltz. The dance floor was more a battlefield than a leisure spot in situations as such.

He sighed in relieve, as if being quenched, “This is exactly what I needed.”

You only smirked continuing to sway to the waltz tempo. Card. This game continued in a flirtatious method. Him complimenting you. You retorting smoothly. He fed off this and you waited until you felt he was fed nearly to the brim to begin your full-fledged attack. It was now Carmen Suite bouncing around the ambiance as you danced.

“I heard LaySoft is closing with Angola soon,”

Your brow lowered, no longer a light and playful set, “Didn’t think you were interested in oil.”

He chuckled, “I always have to think 10 steps ahead, y/n. Though, please enlighten me on your expansion in the Middle East during the past year.”

You only smiled and met his gaze, “What can I say, I’m just that popular. They asked for me.”

“Why do I not believe that?”

“Smelt it dealt it, I assume.”

With this, he burst out in laughter. Head tipping lightly back to allow humor to pour from him in waves.

Card.

That’s the problem with you Yixing, you thought, you and I really are not too far apart.

“Alright alright, I’ll admit, oil is a fun challenge, wouldn’t you agree.” At this point, you’d stopped dancing and made your way to an oncoming busboy. Plucking a stem from the silver tray he was carrying, you offered, “The more the merrier.”

You raised your glass, flashing your signature smile.

Card. You win.

You were intoxicated when you arrived at your home. The contemporary nuances of glass walls made their way to your line of sight as the Roll’s Royce pulled into your driveway.

The house was new as was the little to offer privacy. You’d made the purchase in March, moved in late April, and now it was July.

Stepping out of the car, you took a breath of the thick summer air, enhanced by the grandeur of your house. The doors shut behind you with a conspicuous click, you thought this was lucky if anybody ever tried breaking into your house. You’d never miss it, these doors were loud. As was anything really amongst this almost comically large furnishing. You could tell the position of anyone anywhere in your home because of how sharp each sound was as it bounced off in echoes from high ceilings.

Every step you took against hard marble floors to your bedroom distilled a click until they reached the broad expanse of dark wood. The muted sound of stilettos on wood reminded you strangely of eery memories from middle school. Strange as it may seem for your brain to store and associate a memory from over a decade ago with this particular sound, its all you could process at this point. The same sound of you walking, emitting creaking here and there to top off the stripped sound of steps, had been played out for you at a seventh-grade sleepover.

You would never forget, of course, how could you? One of the most embarrassing nights of your life played out in technicolor in your head. It was a slumber party with your then group of friends when the six of you decided to experiment with urban legends. You had never debated the extent of this abstract, just simply avoided any chance interaction with the seemingly supernatural on some occasions. However, with a group of friends, it’s safe to say all six of you get invincible to the forces of the underworld, where they there.

You had tested all tricks and spooks in the book from Bloody Mary to the Candyman with no outcome. This late into the night as the group grew increasingly confident, the infamous Closet Game was last on the list. This one required the extra effort. Required the reading of a curse, lighting of a match. You followed through of course, though, didn’t expect anything. Nor did your friends. While skeptic, as can be the exhaustion, took a toll on your brain, allowing any minor sound or movement, easily explained in broad daylight, sound like a swan song, a final call before your pathetic death to an urban legend.

So, it was your turn to play the game, and you said the curse, lit the match and stood in the closet waiting for demons to enrapture you and swallow you whole, carrying you away into a dimension unknown. Sweat prickled at your skin and you could feel your heart beating in your fingers and toes, but you could never let your friends know. Straining to hear a whisper and a pull from a ‘demon’ as the instructions said, you felt your head becoming light. You began to feel a velvety rub against your skin, comparable to the softness of a thin stream of water from the faucet on your fingers. You hadn’t done anything yet, hadn’t moved in spite of the clear sign you should bow out the match and leave the closet. You strained for whispers.

To this day you doubt you actually heard it. The voice. It was all part of the mind tricks factoring in darkness, social pressure, and general stress. Makes sense you imagined the whisper and the touch in retrospect. Though at the moment you could not doubt how extremely and terrifyingly real this voice was.

“I found you.”

Three words broke you.

Failing to extinguish the match you broke from the hold behind closet doors to see your friends staring at you with wild eyes. Soon they beckoned you with concern. Inquiring about the demon, asking if you really felt it. You blew out your match and simply brushed it off, pride quivering as you claimed it all a game of your subconscious.

Sleeping that night you could not brush the thought of the ‘demons.’ How they touched you and talked to you. Your pubescent mind racing with hormones, stress, and fear. The sound of your heels on wood now impeccably resembled the sound you heard that night from your place on the couch.

Step, step, step, step.

You couldn’t move, but your eyes were open and you saw everything. Saw what horror your mind conjured that night. Later you’d know this feeling to be nothing more than a psychological wager of sleep paralysis. Nonetheless, you remember how the black figure, faceless, shapeless, but resembling a human simply rose from the white wall carrying a white, electric aura with it.

By means of common sense, nothing should be alarming about a dark figure with no distinguishing features. It had no gun, no knife, no scary face, but it was terrifying despite no obvious means of harm.

Shaking and not moving a muscle, screaming with no sound coming out, crying but no tears escaped. Trapped inside your mind as this figure approached you before simply fading out as if dissolving into the natural background. That’s when you woke up; when your sharp inhale caused your friend next to you on the couch to stir.

All you could do is shut your eyes and throw the now uncomfortably hot covers over you as you continued to sweat, forcing yourself to sleep. Needless to say, you woke up to uncomfortable wetness in your shorts and you knew. Your friends knew. Things like this happened.

Reminiscing now you laughed to yourself about how foolish it was to be so self-degradingly critical around your friends, around yourself and the walls in your own room.

You continued to think of that game and its grand influence on your subconscious that night, minding how crazy the human brain was. At this point in your life and in your evening, you expected nothing else to come and tempt you nor press you. Your dealings at the ball were over and your face of business and poise was officially eligible to retire until tomorrow. So, fuck it, you thought. At this point, you understood the nooks of your brain and everybody else’s brain. Knowing exactly how to approach a person and a problem through meticulous psychoanalysis. At this point, just like then, you felt invincible.

Strolling over to your walk-in closet and pulling a lighter as well as your phone from the new Prada which hung elegantly from your shoulder. Briefly looking up the curse on your phone you shut the sliding door to your closet. Flicking the steel cap of the lighter forward, a gentle flame grew from a traceless spark. You read the words, smirk plastered on your face.

“Dinanzi a me non fuor cose create

se non etterne, e io etterno duro.

Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate’.”

You chanted the infamous words three times, becoming bored the third time around.

Silence.

Stillness.

Nothing happened. No velvety touch, no paralyzing whisper. You chuckled before snapping the lighter shut and sliding the door open. You clapped for the lights in your room to turn on. As they swelled into brightness you slipped out of your dress and placed your shoes to the side.

The shower you took wasn’t long but it felt eternal as you ran through the synopsis of your day and… your life. Existence and the sorts, the usual for showers at this time of night.

Stepping out you further scrutinized each thing you felt, each thing you did and the reason for it. Not the artificial reason as to the typical cost-benefit system, but the actual reason. Your reason for compliance with the universe in general.

You left the bathroom in search of pajamas after slipping into underwear and a black silk robe reaching down to a bit above your knees.

You expected to see nothing but clothes and an island of jewelry when you slid the door open. Rows of designer sweaters hanging in the middle above four of your favorite Hermes purses. A shoe shelf to the far left and a purse shelf to the right. Sections of various articles of clothing placed by category around the perimeter of the room.

You didn’t see this though. Rather you did, but you didn’t see the clothes, nor shoes, nor purses, nor jewelry. Everything was still there but it was no longer the spectacle of importance.

You saw eyes.

Red eyes.

Red like nothing you had seen before.

Red as only ruby orbs among a darkness which darkened to become opaque over the shoes, purses, and diamonds in your closet.

Red glowing like fire against what had no become a pitch black void.

Red like an inferno which now gnawed at the corners of your own vision. Blazes feasting on the darkness cooked explicitly for these eyes and yours.

A conflagration swallowing your line of vision and your senses.

Burning and burning and burning and burning.

You felt nothing, just watched, reactionless, or you thought you were stoic.

For all you know, you could have died, suddenly.

Or hallucinated.

Developed schizophrenia.

All the possible outcomes rushed to your head at the same time as your senses returned.

Pain blurred your line of vision with more red, as you felt the absolute fire eating you whole.

More and more red.

Red and red and red, but you still saw a sole pair of eyes.

While everything became red, the eyes remained.

Eyes remained as a remarkably different red than any other shade of blood and fire charring your sight.

They stayed there even as the fire quelled, as you continued to yell with no sound and cried tears which did not put out flames. It was blackness again, aside from eyes. They moved closer to you as you realized you were no longer in your lavish room nor lavish home. You questioned if you were still on the face of the Earth.

The eyes moved closer as a figure formed around them. As if stepping into light, features became more defined and human. The eyes became a possession and not just a color. Lips, nose, ears, hair. Torso, arms, legs, neck. A body undoubtedly human stepped into sight.

Though, he could not have been human.

Masterlist

#exo #exosnet #exo fanfic #exo ff #exo scenario #exo smut #byun baekhyun #bbh #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun x you #ff #fanfic #baekhyun smut #baekhyun scenario

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maddie-grove · 4 years

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Bi-Monthly Reading Round-Up: March/April

Playlist

“The Ballad of Ira Hayes” by Johnny Cash (Sunrise Song)

“Little Miss Queen of Darkness” by the Kinks (The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake)

“The Ghost Who Walks” by Karen Elson (The Dark Garden)

“Harper Valley PTA” by Jeannie C. Reilly (The Witches)

“Bloodletting” by Concrete Blonde (The Casquette Girls)

“I Don’t Wanna Be Funny Anymore” by Lucy Dacus (My Friend Dahmer)

“The Road and the Miles to Dundee” by the Corries (Exit Betty)

“Ladies’ Choice” from Hairspray (In for a Penny)

“Turn Off the Light” by Nelly Furtado (Red as Blood)*

“I’ll Take Care of You” by the Dixie Chicks (Exit, Pursued by a Bear)

“You Don’t Know Me” by Cindy Walker (It Takes Two to Tangle)

“Learn to Do It” from Anastasia (Once Upon a Maiden Lane)

“Green Finch and Linnet Bird” from Sweeney Todd (What Happened at Midnight)

*Since fifth grade, I have firmly believed this song to be about werewolves. You cannot change my mind.

Best of the Bi-Month

In for a Penny by Rose Lerner (2010): Part lovely romance, part fascinating historical novel about economic conditions in Regency England, with a nice folk-horror feel.

Worst of the Bi-Month

The Casquette Girls by Alys Arden (2013): Overstuffed, confusing paranormal romance. When people make fun of YA, this is what they’re thinking of.

Rest of the Bi-Month

Red as Blood by Tanith Lee (1983): Deliciously lurid, remarkably consistent collection of fairy tale retellings. A bit dated, but charmingly so.

What Happened at Midnight by Courtney Milan (2013): An intense, substantial romance novella, great for fans of Victorian literature.

My Friend Dahmer by Derf Backderf (2012): a graphic memoir by a dude who sometimes hung out with Jeffrey Dahmer in high school. Not very bloody; more upsetting for its exploration of suburban loneliness and callousness.

Sunrise Song by Kathleen Eagle (1996): Sweet twentieth-century historical romance, stronger on the history than the romance.

The Dark Garden by Margaret Buffie (1995): Fun, spooky YA ghost story with some interesting family dynamics.

Exit Betty by Grace Livingston Hill (1920): Enjoyable, accidentally gay melodrama from the mother of Christian romance.

Exit, Pursued by a Bear by E.K. Johnston (2016): Endearing if somewhat simplistic YA issue novel. Not a great retelling of The Winter’s Tale.

It Takes Two to Tangle by Theresa Romain (2013): Well-written Regency romance with a frustrating plot.

Once Upon a Maiden Lane by Elizabeth Hoyt (2017): Cute romance novella that could’ve been a lot more impactful.

The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender (2010): Good writing but the concept went nowhere.

The Witches by Stacy Schiff (2015): Rather commonplace history of the Salem Witch Trials.

#books #reading #theme: exit pursued by a betty

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james-christian-things-blog · 5 years

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You Belong with Me

“You Belong with Me” is a song recorded by American singer-songwriter Taylor Swift. The song was written by Swift and Liz Rose and produced by Nathan Chapman and Swift. It was released on April 18, 2009, by Big Machine Recordsas the third single from Swift’s second studio album, Fearless (2008). Swift was inspired to write “You Belong with Me” after overhearing a male friend of hers arguing with his girlfriend through a phone call; she continued to develop a story line afterward. The song contains many pop music elements and its lyrics have Swift desiring an out-of-reach love interest.

The song won Favorite song at the 2010 Kids’ Choice Awards, and received nominations at the 2010 Grammy Awards for Song of the Year, Record of the Year, and Best Female Pop Vocal Performance. “You Belong with Me” enjoyed commercial success as well; it became a top ten hit in Australia, Canada, New Zealand, and the United States. In the United States, the song became Swift’s highest-charting single on the Billboard Hot 100 at the time and has become Swift’s third best-selling single. It managed to gain the largest crossover radio audience since Faith Hill’s “Breathe” did in 2000. The single was certified 7× Platinum by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA). The song is one of the best-selling singles worldwide, with worldwide sales of more than 7 million units (according to the IFPI).

The song’s accompanying music video was directed by Roman White. The video featured Swift portraying two characters, a nerd (the protagonist and narrator) and a popular girl (the antagonist and girlfriend), while American actor Lucas Tillportrayed the male lead. The video’s plot centers on the protagonist secretively loving the male lead, although he has a girlfriend. The video won the MTV Video Music Award for Best Female Video at the 2009 MTV Video Music Awards, but during Swift’s acceptance speech, rapper Kanye Westinterrupted, protesting in support of Beyoncé. The incident caused a reaction in the media, with many coming to Swift’s defense. The song was performed live at numerous venues, including the 2009–10 Fearless Tour, where it was the opening number. It has been covered by various artists, including Butch Walker and Selena Gomez & the Scene, and parodied by “Weird Al” Yankovic.

Background

Swift became inspired to write “You Belong with Me” after she overheard a male friend of hers speaking to his girlfriend on the phone. He acted defensive as his girlfriend yelled at him, and said to her, “No, baby…I had to get off the phone really quickly… I tried to call you right back… Of course I love you. More than anything! Baby, I’m so sorry." Out of the sympathy she felt towards him in the situation, Swift developed a concept for a song.In a writing session with co-writer Liz Rose, Swift explained the situation along with her idea and conceived the song’s opening line, "You’re on the phone with your girlfriend / she’s upset / she’s going off about something that you said." Together, they developed a story line, which described Swift being in love with the male friend and her having the desire for him to break up with his current girlfriend for her. Swift described the song’s concept as "basically about wanting someone who is with this girl who doesn’t appreciate him at all. Basically like ’girl-next-door-itis.’ You like this guy who you have known for your whole life, and you know him better than she does but somehow the popular girl gets the guy every time." Swift recalled, "It was really fun for us to write the line, ‘She wears short skirts, I wear T-shirts’.”“You Belong with Me” was first released as a promotional single from Fearless on November 4, 2008, as part of Countdown to Fearless, an exclusive campaign by the iTunes Store;the song was then released as the third single from Fearless on April 18, 2009.

Composition

“You Belong with Me” is a country pop song with a length of three minutes and 52 seconds.According to Kate Kiefer of Pastemagazine, it is “a straight-up pop song." The song is set in common time and has a moderate tempo of 130 beats per minute. It is written in the key of F♯ major and Swift’s vocals spans a little below two octaves, from F#3 to C#5. Swift hints at her country music background in the banjo-inflected introduction of the song. Leah Greenblatt of Entertainment Weekly felt Swift’s vocals were light and twangy while the melody was "lilting”. It follows the chord progression F♯ –C♯–G♯m-B. The instrumentationconsists of clucking banjos alongside new wave electric guitars.

The lyrics to “You Belong with Me” alternate between narrative modes, where she speaks of herself, a male friend whom she has an unrequited crush on, and his girlfriend. Greenblatt described Swift’s role as a storyteller, the song being a narrative set to music, which describes concerning about love and boys “just [being] very hard to catch”. Craig Rosen of The Hollywood Reporter believes “You Belong with Me”’s plot is “confessional” and regards scenarios themed with high school, while Swift “is the girl next door who’s had her heart broken and takes refuge in music”. Lucy Davies of the BBC noted, “Swift deals in the prosaic imagery of high school boys”.In one verse, Swift contrasts herself with her friend’s girlfriend and states, “She wears high heels, I wear sneakers / She’s cheer captain, I’m on the bleachers”, which Davies interpreted as the song’s protagonist feeling envy towards cheerleaders, in particular, the one dating her male friend. In the choruses, Swift attempts “to persuade some boy to come to his senses and submit to her everygirl charms”

Awards and nominations

At the 52nd Grammy Awards, “You Belong with Me” received nominations for three awards. The song received a nomination for the Grammy Award for Song of the Year but lost to Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)” (2008), for the Grammy Award for Record of the Year but lost to Kings of Leon’s “Use Somebody” (2008), and for the Grammy Award for Best Female Pop Vocal Performance but lost to Beyoncé’s “Halo” (2009).“You Belong with Me” won Favorite Song at the 2010 Kids Choice Awards and was nominated for Song of the Year at the 45th Academy of Country Music Awards, but lost to Lady Antebellum’s “Need You Now” (2009). Although “You Belong with Me” did not receive an award for any of the nominations it received at the 52nd Grammy Awards, Swift did win album of the year for Fearless, which the song was a part of.

With You (Chris Brown song)

“With You” is a song recorded by American recording artist Chris Brown for his second studio album, Exclusive (2007). The song was written by Brown, Johntá Austin, Tor Erik Hermansen, Mikkel Eriksen, Espen Lind and Amund Bjørklundwhile production was helmed by Stargate. The song was released as the album’s third single on December 4, 2007 in the United States. It was later released internationally on March 21, 2008. “With You” is composed as a slow R&B ballad that features an acoustic guitar as the base of the arrangement.

“With You” topped the charts in New Zealand and peaked inside the top five in several countries. In the United States, “With You” peaked at number two on the Billboard Hot 100 and at number one on the US Pop Songs chart. The music video for “With You” was directed by Brown and Erik White. The video focuses more on Brown and his dance moves while utilizing several visual effects. It won the accolade for “Best Male Video” at the 2008 MTV Video Music Awards.

Background and release

“With You” was written by Brown, Johntá Austin, Mikkel S. Eriksen, Tor Erik Hermansen, Espen Lind, and Amund Bjørklund. Eriksen and Hermansen produced the song under their production stage-name Stargate. Eriksen recorded it at Battery Studios - a recording studio in New York City, New York. Phil Tan mixed the track with assistance from Josh Houghkirk at Soapbox Studio in Atlanta, Georgia.[1] Eriksen and Hermansen, in addition to producing and writing, performed all the instruments featured on the song, with the exception of the guitar, which was provided by Lind.

“With You” was released as the third single from Brown’s second studio album Exclusive (2007), after “Wall to Wall” and “Kiss Kiss” (2007). Before its official single release, the song was first released to digital retailers in certain territories on November 2, 2007, through Zomba Recordings, as a promotional single.More than a month later, on December 4, 2007, Jive Records and Zomba Recordingsserviced the song to rhythmic crossover radio in the United States. They later solicited to contemporary hit radio on January 8, 2008.On March 4, 2008, an extended play for “With You” was released to digital retailers in certain countries, including the United States, featuring the original song and two other remixes by Tracy Young and Kovas.Another extended play was released in selected countries on March 14, 2008, containing the original version and four other remixes. On March 21, 2008, “With You” was released as a digital single in several countries, including Belgium, France, Ireland and Norway. The single featured a B-side, the B&B Remix of “With You”.

Music video

The music video was shot in Los Angeles, California on November 20, 2007. It premiered on music video channels MTV, BET, and Fuse TV during the week of December 3, 2007. In a November 8, 2007 interview with MTV, Brown stated that he co-directed the video as well. “And it shows me more solo. Like, it shows the grown side of Chris – it doesn’t show the kiddie side. ‘Cause with this album, I wanted to blend, I wanted to do all different visuals of me. The first [video] 'Wall to Wall,’ the acting, the vampires, the spookiness, then you go to 'Kiss, Kiss,’ that had the little goofy part, now this one is solo, the main [performer] is me. Me freestyle dancing – just showing people me naturally, not a choreographed routine, just me dancing and showing you what I’m capable of. But at the same time, I was just having fun with the camera, and just one-on-one time with me and my audience." The video was quite popular in American television, reaching number 1 on BET’s 106 & Park for 6 days, and staying on the countdown for 38 days. It has also reached number 1 on MTV TRL for 10 days, replacing Flo Rida’s "Low” and finally retired at number 1 after it stayed on the countdown for 35 days. The music video won the accolade for “Best Male Video” at the 2008 MTV Video Music Awards.

Composition

“With You” is a “folksy” R&B song. According to the music sheet published at Musicnotes.com by Sony/ATV Music Publishing, “With You” utilizes styles of urban and contemporary R&B music and has a moderate tempo of 86 beats per minute.[8] It is written in a key of E♭ major while Brown’s vocals range from E♭4to B♭5 The song follows a basic sequence of E♭5-E♭maj7-A♭7-B♭ as its chord progression. It consists of a slow stuttering beat and an acoustic guitar arrangement that has garnered comparisons to that present in Stargate’s other produced song, Beyoncé’s 2006 hit “Irreplaceable”. Kelefa Sanneh of New York Times said the song could be a cover of “Irreplaceable”, while Nick Levine of Digital Spy called the two songs “kissing cousins”.Greg Kot of the Chicago Tribune felt that the song “openly mimics "Irreplaceable” right down to the acoustic guitar riff.“ Lyrically, "With You” is written about teenage love, presented in the lyrics “And now I know I can’t be the only one/ I bet there’s hearts all over the world tonight / With the love in their life who feel the way I feel when I’m with you.”

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theconservativebrief · 6 years

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Just when you thought it was safe to relax, for no further new TV shows were coming to humbly request your eyeballs, The CW decided to start premiering most of its shows this week.

The tiny network — home to some of TV’s best shows, like Jane the Virgin and Crazy Ex-Girlfriend — traditionally waits for October to debut its series, where they can premiere slightly outside of the biggest crush of fall TV season. But with the network expanding to Sunday nights for the first time this fall, it’s got more new series to flaunt than usual, to say nothing of all of its returning shows.

Thus, this week, we offer thoughts on The CW’s new high school drama All American, as well as its reboot of the venerable witch show Charmed. Finally, we have thoughts on HBO’s new series from Girls producers Lena Dunham and Jenni Konner, Camping, which also marks Jennifer Garner’s return to TV.

Few of these shows are great, and as critics, we often have limited information on whether they’ll get better. (It’s rare to impossible for broadcast networks, especially, to send out many episodes for review beyond the first couple.) But there’s something in all of these shows worth checking out, especially if you’re a particular fan of their genres.

(A note: We’ve only given ratings to shows where we feel we’ve seen enough episodes to judge how successful they will be long-term.)

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Who doesn’t like a teen drama about a boy from an underprivileged background getting a hand up into the world of the rich and comfortable? It’s been the story of many, many teen soaps over the years, but perhaps most famously on The O.C., where Chino-born Ryan Atwood found himself suddenly living among the spoiled and pampered denizens of Orange County.

The CW’s new series All American takes that format and mixes it with Friday Night Lights for one of the strongest new dramas of the fall. It has its rough edges, but there’s something hard to beat about a good-hearted kid discovering the excesses of money and power, while those who have the money and power discover just how much they have in common with the new kid.

At the center of All American is Spencer (winning British newcomer Daniel Ezra), a football star at South LA’s public Crenshaw High. Spencer is black, and he comes from a majority-black neighborhood. (He’s also based on the real NFL player Spencer Paysinger.) When a coach for a Beverly Hills high school — played by Taye Diggs, who I never thought would make a great Coach Taylor but makes a great Coach Taylor — turns up to offer Spencer a chance at a role on a higher-profile team, Spencer worries about betraying his community before eventually realizing going to Beverly Hills could cement his future.

You can sort of see where this is going from there, but creator April Blair shows a refreshing willingness to keep the story moving throughout the first three episodes, unveiling a healthy dollop of plot twists and soapiness, while also giving her characters a whole lot of heart. Indeed, the twist at the end of the pilot takes the show from “pretty good” to “something I’ll give at least a season to figure itself out.”

There are issues here and there (the ensemble is perhaps a little too large for a show this young, and there’s way too much music to drive every emotional point home), but All American is an intriguing stew of teen soap tastes that taste great together. —Todd VanDerWerff

All American debuted Wednesday, October 10, on The CW and is available on the network’s website. Future episodes air Wednesdays at 9 pm on The CW.

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For whatever reason, The CW’s new spin on Charmed has been embroiled in controversy over its status as a reboot starring brand new actors, rather than a revival starring the show’s original cast. And, sure, the original series has die-hard fans, and in a climate where seemingly every other popular show from the ’90s is being revived just as it was back then, it’s not hard to imagine a world where that happened with Charmed, too.

But if those disgruntled Charmed fans tune in to the new version, they’re likely to find a show that, despite a pilot that’s a bit of a mess, has the right elements in place to become just as fun as that earlier series (if not more fun — that original show could be a bit of a mess itself). Most importantly, Jessica O’Toole, Amy Rardin, and Jennie Snyder Urman (of Jane the Virgin fame), who developed this new Charmed, have nailed the single most important element of the show: the casting.

To make a show about three sisters who are witches — and so much more powerful when together than when apart — you really need three actors who simultaneously exude raw supernatural power and a sisterhood that feels real, not assembled right before shooting the pilot. (Even if you know that’s what happened.) And Madeleine Mantock, Melonie Diaz, and Sarah Jeffery absolutely seem like sisters, with all the attendant benefits and baggage that relationship carries.

Plus, revamping this show to be about a Latina family offers a subtly powerful twist on the idea of those without traditional political power having untapped reserves of raw power. The pilot could do more with this idea (and the series hopefully will), but at least the sisters never feel like they’ve been made Latina to score empty diversity points.

The pilot gets stuck trying to do too much, establishing the sisters’ powers and setting up a longer mystery about an unsolved murder and offering up a #MeToo metaphor as its monster of the week. But with this cast (including a very game Rupert Friend as guardian angel Harry) and smart writers behind the scenes, Charmed will hopefully find itself very quickly. —TV

Charmed debuts Sunday, October 14, at 9 pm Eastern on The CW.

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Watching the four episodes of Camping that were sent out for review, I couldn’t help but think of another recent HBO series: Vice Principals. The shape of that series wasn’t immediately apparent in the first couple of episodes, and what it ended up being was vastly different from (and better than) what its beginning suggested. It rewarded the viewer for watching through to the end.

It seems as though Camping might fit a similar bill, though I would hesitate to presume that it’ll pull off the same gambit. Created by Lena Dunham and Jenni Konner, and adapted from the British series of the same name, Camping doesn’t really make any progress in the first half of its season.

The reasons to watch are apparent from the start: The cast is absolutely stacked, with Jennifer Garner simultaneously playing to type and against type as Kathryn, who works day in and day out to make her life as flawless and meticulously ordered as her Instagram account. David Tennant is perfectly cast as her husband, Walt; he’s as easygoing as Kathryn is wound-up, as embodied by his lankiness and penchant for bucket hats.

Filling out the rest of the group of friends (just imagine quotation marks around the word) out camping in celebration of Walt’s 45th birthday, there’s Ione Skye, Chris Sullivan, Janicza Bravo, Brett Gelman, Arturo Del Puerto, Juliette Lewis — there’s not a weak performance in the bunch.

Unfortunately, that’s not quite enough. By the season’s halfway point, Camping seems to be fixated on showcasing people behaving badly — whether on their own or due to outside influence — without necessarily having a larger point to make. It’s thin ice for any series to skate on, but even more so when a series asks its audience to invest in characters written to be annoying or self-involved. These people are poison to each other — why keep watching them?

A few moments shine — again, the cast is terrific, and manages to find bits of truthfulness in the way these characters tear at each other — but without a firm sense of plot or structure to keep it all together, the show falters. —Karen Han

Camping debuts Sunday, October 14, at 10 pm Eastern on HBO.

As mentioned, basically everything on The CW is back this week. (Some shows — notably Jane the Virgin — are being held for midseason, of course.) That includes the final season of Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (Friday at 8 pm), which kicks off with a bang, as Rebecca Bunch finds herself in prison. A happy ending to this saga might seem a stretch at this point, but we’d settle for a “mostly okay” ending, honestly.

If you love streaming shows, this is a hectic week, too. Netflix brings the terrific new cooking docu-series Salt Fat Acid Heat (Thursday), based on the book of the same name, and the superbly spooky Haunting of Hill House (Friday). Amazon, meanwhile, launches the first season of Mad Men creator Matt Weiner’s The Romanoffs (also Friday), while the new streaming service DC Universe unveils the gritty Teen Titans reboot Titans (whaddaya know, it’s debuting on Friday). We’ll have full reviews of some of these in the days to come.

If you’re a fan of podcast hosts, HBO launches its TV version of Pod Save America (Friday at 11 pm) and ABC launches The Alec Baldwin Show (Sunday at 10 pm), should you require a TV version of something originally designed to appeal to your earballs.

Finally, if you’re me (Todd), then the only thing you care about is adult swim’s Harvey Birdman: Attorney General (Monday at midnight), a brand new special reuniting the voice cast of the original Harvey Birdman: Attorney at Law, one of the great, silly spoofs of the 2000s. Sing it with me now! Whooooooo is the man in the suit? Whooooooo is the cat with the be-eak!

Original Source -> This week in TV: a teen drama to check out, a new spin on Charmed, and Jennifer Garner

via The Conservative Brief

#IFTTT #The Conservative Brief

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tacomawanews-blog · 7 years

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Just in time for Halloween! A haunted house in Tacoma story!

HUGE MYSTERY - HAUNTED HOUSE - UNIQUE INSIGHT - WILLIAM ROSS RUST HOME William Rust House 1001 N. I St, Tacoma WA (USA) *Reprinted with permission from VampireReview* This notable landmark, the Colonial style William Ross Rust House is a private estate built in 1905 (tax records claim it was built in 1907). Located in north Tacoma, it has quite a bit of fascinating mystery and gossip surrounding it.

WHY I DECIDED TO RESEARCH THIS HOME

I first heard of this house a week or two ago and have continued to feel haunted by the stories surrounding it. Deciding I should investigate to learn more, I quickly realized that what's available through typical research means (e.g., common Google search) only created more questions for me when documentation about this house, and the family that lived here, didn't match either the stories I'd heard or messages I had gleaned, intuitively. That's why I resorted to recruiting Doug Grimes, with all his skills and experience at researching family genealogy. Thanks to him, I am now fully engaged by the terrible stories affiliated with the William Ross Rust (1850-1928) family home and I now regard the rumors as being at least partly true. In the very least, the evidence suggests there has been an attempt by William Ross Rust to hide some of his family information. The bigger question that remains is whether or not there was a larger attempt to cover up a horrid crime committed on the front porch of this home by the man who the locals treated as a respectable magnate. You'll have to read this posting to the end before you know all the fascinating questions, be fully entertained by how this story winds and twists, and then peruse my initial conclusion.I first became fascinated with this house when another psychic told me just recently that she'd been inside this house with the mission of launching a house clearing effort. Without any visible remorse or embarrassment, she admitted the home became so filled with spooky paranormal events that she had to abandon the mission. Knowing that I often clear houses, professionally, she asked if I'd be willing to accompany her back inside this home, but when I admitted that I charge a reasonable fee, and guarantee my work or provide a full refund if the customer's not completely satisfied, she all but rescinded the offer (and I'm firm about NOT doing house clearings without being compensated - thanks to the personal risk involved and thanks to my ethical beliefs of always participating in fair trade practices). All the same, I felt the following story that psychic told me was at least partly true and very fascinating. Not only did I suddenly feel as though I instantly knew the victim in this story, but the young male involved was actually a fun-loving person who was simply trying to live authentically and his lifestyle conflicted with the conservative times and with his father's need to uphold a certain public image. Not having gone to the house myself, I reasoned that this house could legitimately be haunted and there might be an element of resentment that's still there in regards to disowning family members and abhorring controlling or severely dominant male-figures. Yet I cannot say who or what would be causing the current paranormal activity being reported there, not without actually being inside the home/experiencing it for myself. *Note: sometimes I can read a house without physically going there but this particular home is very complex/confusing when viewed from afar. Beyond this home’s reputation for being very haunted, a recent accidental death is now being blamed on the resident spirit(s) but I don't feel at liberty to go into much detail about that - not in a public way.

JUICIEST RUMORS ABOUT WILLIAM ROSS RUST - "THE MAN"

A highly respected businessman, William Ross Rust (hereafter referred to as W.R.) traveled quite often. During one trip to Europe, his grown son (as the story was told to me, the son's name was not given) was tired of conforming to social-standards-of-the-day and he hooked his horses up to a buggy and drove around Tacoma with his male-lover on the seat beside him. The two men kissed in public, which was something W.R. would never have endorsed or tolerated. The moment that W.R. arrived home early from his trip, having heard of his adult son's escapades, he reportedly shot his son point-blank and killed him. The "murder" is rumored to have happened on the front porch of the above-mentioned home. According to rumor, death records listed the son's death as due to "natural causes" thanks to cultural homophobia and the fact that W.R. Rust was highly respected as an important citizen in Tacoma and able to launch a successful cover-up effort. *Again, this is current day rumor and no printed or published information clearly substantiates this story.* (Read on.) STILL A MYSTERY - OR PROOF OF A COVER-UP?

Initially, upon doing an Internet search, I learned that W.R. had one son, Henry Arthur Rust (Aug. 21, 1900 - May 13, 1936). Immediately this information seemed to completely dispel everything that I'd picked up intuitively and everything I'd been told via rumor because public record shows that H. Arthur out-lived his father by 8 years. (W.R. died in 1928 at age 78). Given this evidence ("proof") that W.R. had NOT murdered his son -- something just kept nagging at me about this house's story. I felt I could NOT just let it go. I felt as though a young homosexual male had visited me in spirit and wanted me to know the full story but all records documenting Henry Arthur's life not only suggested that he outlived his father but he had gotten married and had children ... So I dug a little deeper into the research to discover why I was feeling so inspired to tell this gay man's story - or "the rumor." A CLOSER LOOK INTO WILLIAM ROSS RUST's PERSONALITY:

W.R. Rust was born in Pennsylvania on August 1, 1850. Later, he moved westward and purchased the Tacoma Smelting & Refining Company, a business that occupied 67 acres, some of it was said to occupy ancient Indian burial grounds. W.R. purchased the company somewhere around 1890 from a cash-strapped businessman. Today that smelting property has undergone massive clean-up and environmental restoration work, thanks to all the toxic waste created by the smelter's smokestack emissions and the release of heavy metals such as lead and arsenic into the local air, soil and water. It's cleanup is financed by an EPA Superfund but experience suggests - since the company was shut down many years ago - most of the toxic waste has already been widely distributed (most of the damage has been done, irretrievably).

Yet I digress. Getting back to the story of W.R. long before he died, he did something very public that suggests he was either very unhappy or very controlling in regards to his marriage. In the 1910 Pierce County Census - 13th Census of the United States (see more details below) W.R. felt obligated to document that he was married and living with his wife, whom he's listed as 12 years his junior, but W.R. left her name completely OFF the record (did not acknowledge his spouse by name, not even when all other contributors to that same census did mention their spouses by name). Interestingly, W.R. did manage to list the full name of his servant woman (*who was closer in age to him than his wife was*) and he listed both of his sons by their names as well. Did you catch that? While most documents only mention W.R. as having one son, from the census we can see he actually had two. (The eldest son, Howard, is most often omitted from public records.) What's more, other legal documents reveal that W.R.'s wife was named Helen M. Smith, born in 1863. Yet, again, the Rust Family Papers and many other Internet sources list only W.R. with one son, and quite often no wife is mentioned.

SO THIS IS WHERE I ASK YOU, DEAR INTELLIGENT READER:When such a wealthy businessman with strong political interests, finances much of the town's progress and he is so admired, politically, that the town Ruston was named after him, is it possible that he networked with the powers that be to hide a heinous crime he committed? Realizing that most readily accessible public documents have eliminated Rust's wife and son Howard from the record, is it not rather easy to jump to the conclusion that W.R. may have also committed murder (when his son was violating local laws and committing religious offense)? It's not too difficult to imagine how W.R. might have maneuvered his way through the police/local media mess by getting help to cover up his crime story.

CLARIFICATION OF THE RUMORSuggesting that the part of the rumor where W.R.'s son died at a very young age is true, on Aprill 11th, 1911, The Tacoma Times (local daily newspaper in operation since 1903) published the following article about young Howard L. Rust, who would have just reached 25-years-of-age had he lived two more days.

HOWARD L. RUST DIES SUDDENLY - stated The Tacoma Times. Howard L. Rust, son of W. R. Rust of this city ruptured an artery in the heart while conversing with friends Saturday evening at Ranford, Wash., and died almost instantly. He would have been 25 years old yesterday. His parents are on a return voyage from Europe now. Young Rust went to Hanford on a ranch to build up his shattered health. He seemed to be gaining until the collapse came Saturday night.He came to Tacoma with his father when four years of age. (End of article.) My question to you, dear reader, is, if Howard's death was truly due to a heart problem, as listed, then why did his father omit his name from all future public records (and we’re not just talking about census papers)? Would a loving father NOT want to keep his son's memory alive - forever by admitting his son had lived? MORE SPECIFICS THAT DOUG UNCOVERED FROM CENSUS RESEARCH #1 -William Ross Rust's Household according to the 1910 Pierce County Census - 13th Census of the United StatesWilliam R. Rust, head of household, male, white, 57, married 25 years, born Pennsylvania, education able to read yes, education able to write yes, wife's name completely omitted but other details were not: wife, female, white, 45, married 25 years, born Colorado, education able to read yes, education able to write: yes. Howard Rust, son, male, white, 23, single, born Colorado. education able to read yes, education able to write yes, Henry A. Rust, son, male, white, 9, single, born Washington, education able to read yes, education able to write yes, Pauline Fredericks, servant, female, white, 51, born Canada-French, education able to read (answer erased/blank), education able to write (answer erased/blank).

#2 - William Ross Rust's Household according to the 1920 Pierce County Census - 14th Census of the United StatesWilliam R. Rust, Head, age 66, married, born in Pennsylvania. Helen W. Rust, wife, age 52, married, born in Colorado *Note: Other references list her middle initial as M.H. Arthur Rust, son, age 19, single, born in Washington. Marie R. Edenhuler (at least I think that's her last name/penmanship is difficult to read), servant, age 17, single, born in Kansas, parents were born in Sweden #3 -Son Henry Arthur's Household according to the 1930 Pierce County Census - 15th Census of the United StatesHenry Arthur Rust, house number 1020, head of home, male, white, age 29, married, vice-president/investments, NOT a military veteran. Margaret Rust (wife), white, age 24. Billie J Rust (daughter) white, age 3. Margaret Rust (daughter) white, age 1-1/2. Bertha Wyss (female, servant from Switzerland) white, age 43. Dorothy Stubbs (female, servant from Washington state) white, age 22.

MY CONCLUSION: I feel rather strongly that W. R. Ross could be a controlling jerk at times. He definitely did not approve of his son Howard's homosexuality (religiously or politically). That alone would be reason enough for a dogmatic individual like him to disown Howard (we've all run into that type of obnoxious control freak who insists everyone in the family should dress, behave and move about just like him). Meanwhile, I feel like I've met the spirit of this younger guy, Howard, and he was rather fun to be around and his father simply did not appreciate him for all the sunshine and party spirit he brought into the home.

Yet I need to add a small detail to the above mentioned rumored story - where Howard was said to have been shot on the front porch. The psychic I spoke to said the home became so haunted after the young man's death that the surviving Rust family had to move into a temporary shelter until a second house could be built over on Yakima street.Indeed, I did find a record of the family moving a year after Howard's death. Yet the reason was given for the move, publicly, stating that his mother, Helen, just felt the original home was much too large for her liking. She wanted a smaller home (one that W.R. rapidly built for her). MORE SPECIFICALLY The Rust Mansion, 1001 N. I St., Tacoma, WA, USA, 98402, was patterned on the John A. McCall home in Long Island, "Shadow Lawn." The Rusts sold their home in 1912 after the death of their son, Howard. Since then it has had many owners and was divided into apartments in the 1920's. DOES THIS PROVE THE RUMOR IS NOT TRUE? While modern thinkers might look at Howard's reported "cause of death" statement in 1911, which suggested he died of a weak heart, and observe that his brother Henry Arthur also died of a heart condition, years later, when he was 35 - and while observers might assume it's not too much of a stretch to think that both boys could have inherited the same genetic heart problem that killed them at such young ages - I'd like to remind my readers that both their father and mother lived 78 and 90 years, respectively. Their young deaths seem curious, at least. RECAP ON THE FAMILY TREE (Source: govdocs.evergreen.edu)* Father: William Ross Rust - Aug. 1, 1850 - Aug. 17, 1928 (78 years)* Mother: Helen M. Smith - December 18, 1863 -October 19, 1954 (90 years)* Son: Howard L. Rust - Aprill 11, 1886 - April 9, 1911 (24 years). Cause of death: reported heart ailment.* Son: H. Arthur Rust, born August 21, 1900 - May 13, 1936 (35 years). Cause of death: reported heart ailment, leaving behind an estate of more than $600,000 (a ridiculously large some money in the day). LOCATION OF THE W. R. Rust Home:1001 N. I Street, Tacoma, WA USA, 98402. Location of the second, smaller home, where they moved after Howard died, 521 Yakima Ave. This landmark is in the vicinity (see map) of N Yakima Ave and N 9TH St., Tacoma, WA.

*I hope you enjoyed this very detailed *spooky* report and would love it if you take the time to leave a comment - share your thoughts.*

#RealHauntedHouse WilliamRustHome HauntedTacoma

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