#francesca esposito

[shield-o-futuro]

Contos dos JV — #8 || Scarlett Romanoff & Francesca Esposito

O apartamento de Francesca Esposito em Little Italy era pequeno, mas muito bem arrumado — tão organizado quanto ela mesma sempre fora. No entanto, naquela noite, o lugar parecia um pouco menos impecável, porque haviam caixas de enfeites espalhadas pelo chão e uma árvore de Natal recém-armada em um canto, ainda completamente nua.

Scarlett Romanoff estava ajoelhada ao lado de uma dessas caixas, remexendo nos enfeites enquanto reclamava sem parar.

— Cara, eu não acredito, você realmente só ia deixar isso aqui sem decorar, não é? — Ela olhou de forma acusatória para Chess, que estava sentada no sofá, observando a namorada com um olhar divertido.

— Sabe que não tive tempo, a semana foi muito corrida. Além do mais, achei que não precisasse. É só uma árvore, Scarlly.

Scarlett revirou os olhos.

— “Só uma árvore”? — Ela colocou a mão no peito como se tivesse sido ofendida. — É a sua arvore de natal!

— Poucas pessoas vão vir aqui pra vê-la.

— Mas mesmo assim! — Scarlett gesticulou como se quisesse recitar um grande argumento, mas as palavras não deixaram sua boca. Ela apenas suspirou frustrada ao invés disso. — Você é inacreditável.

— E você é dramática.

Scarlett soltou uma risada com aquilo, balançando a cabeça, e voltou a mexer nos enfeites.

— Tá legal, olha, o problema aqui, Chess, é que eu acho que você ainda não está no clima de natal.

— Não estou? Eu usei aquele gorrinho de natal que você trouxe por quase um minuto inteiro.

— Não é o suficiente. — Scarlett declarou. — Sabe do que você realmente precisa? Uma musica natalina de fundo pra te inspirar na decoração. E chocolate quente. Isso sempre me coloca no clima de Natal.

Chess ergueu uma sobrancelha.

— Não estou muito convencida de que preciso disso.

— Precisa. Só não sabe disso ainda.

Scarlett se colocou de pé em um movimento rápido. Tão rápido que Chess quase não foi capaz de acompanhar, e pegou o celular que estava ao seu lado no sofá.

— Ei! — Ela protestou, e se inclinou para a frente, tentando pegar o celular de volta. Não porque tinha algo a esconder, mas sim pela audácia. Ela ainda estava se acostumando com essa liberdade que a namorada já tinha por ali. — Tá fazendo o que?

— Colocando a droga da musica de natal. — Scarlett respondeu, como se fosse óbvio. — Eu não quero isso no meu spotify. Vai estragar minha estética toda. — Ao terminar a frase, uma musica começou. — Prontinho. Mariah Carey, um clássico.

Scarlett colocou o celular na mesinha de centro, e foi em direção a cozinha, fazendo Chess revirar os olhos. Ela amava essa espontaneidade e energia da namorada, mas as veze, era um tanto quanto difícil de acompanha-la.

— Você me irrita, sabia disso?

— Não consigo te ouvir com All I Want For Christmas Is You tocando.

Chess sabia que aquilo era mentira, e sorriu. Levantou-se e foi até a cozinha, onde encontrou Scarlett revirando seu armário sem nenhum respeito por sua organização impecável.

— Não bagunce as coisas! — Sua voz saiu com um tom leve de exasperação. Isso só fez Scarlett abrir um sorriso implicante.

— Já estou bagunçando!

Francesca sabia que aquela era uma batalha perdida, então deixou que a ruiva terminasse o que estava fazendo.

Minutos depois, estava observando a namorada tentar preparar chocolate quente como se fosse uma tarefa de alta complexidade. Duas canecas—uma com desenhos do Homem-Aranha e outra com uma versão em miniatura do Homem de Ferro—, já esperando na bancada.

Ela cruzou os braços.

— Você faz parecer que isso é complexo. Quase como se estivesse tentando montar uma estratégia para enfrentar um vilão ou coisa parecida.

— Silêncio, Chess. Estou me concentrando.

— Você está queimando o leite, isso sim.

Scarlett olhou para o fogão e, de fato, percebeu que aquilo era verdade. Ela fez menção de ir lidar com o problema, mas Chess foi mais rápida. Foi até ela, afastando-a gentilmente.

— Deixa que eu faço. Você pode cuidar dos marshmallows.

Scarlett se afastou com uma expressão indignada, mas logo voltou a sorrir enquanto observava Francesca assumir o controle.

— Porque você insiste em ser boa em tudo? — O tom de Scarlett era um misto de brincadeira e leve acusação. Uma mistura que Chess já conhecia muito bem.

— Não é difícil fazer chocolate quente, Scar.

— Não mesmo, mas você faz até isso parecer elegante, Chess.

Francesca tentou esconder o sorriso, mas falhou. Pouco tempo depois, elas estavam sentadas no sofá, cada uma com uma caneca fumegante e cheia de marshmallows mãos. O silêncio que se seguiu foi confortável, preenchido apenas pelo som distante da cidade lá fora e da musica, agora maia baixa. Chess adorava momentos assim, onde as duas apenas aproveitavam o tempo, uma do lado da outra.

Após alguns poucos minutos, Scarlett pausou a musica que tocava, e decidiu colocar um filme para que pudessem ir assistindo enquanto montavam a árvore (Esqueceram de Mim, outro clássico, ela dissera). Então, se levantou e pegou um punhado de bolinhas brilhantes de dentro da caixa.

— Certo Chess, sua decoração minimalista termina aqui. Nós vamos enfeitar essa árvore agora mesmo.

— Achei que você fosse terminar seu chocolate quente primeiro.

— Vou decorar e beber ao mesmo tempo, porque eu sou…

— Multitarefas. — Francesca completou ao mesmo tempo que Scarlett, revirando os olhos em seguida. — É o que você sempre diz antes de começar vinte coisas ao mesmo tempo e não terminar nenhuma delas.

Elas se encararam por um momento, as duas tentando não rir. Até que Scarlett quebrou o silencio.

— Vai me ajudar ou não!?

Chess a observou por um momento, fingindo pensar, antes de finalmente se levantar.

— Se você quebrar algo, ou derramar chocolate no chão, vai limpar.

— Sem promessas. — A ruiva respondeu em seu habitual tom animado, empurrando um pequeno bolinho emaranhado de pisca-piscas em direção a namorada. — Aqui, já que o apartamento é seu, você vai ter que desenrolar essas coisas. É um ritual de natal, minha querida.

— Eu realmente não acredito nisso, Barton.

Mas aceitou a tarefa mesmo assim. E nas próximas horas, as duas se concentraram em suas tarefas, com Scarlett liderando e Francesca cuidadosamente ajustando cada enfeite que ela achava estar fora do lugar. momento tornava tudo mais aconchegante.

No final, Francesca teve de admitir que árvore realmente havia ficado mais bonita com os enfeites, e não importava se outras pessoas além delas aparecessem ali para ver o resultado final.

NOTA: E aqui está o continho delas, que era o que faltava! O delas foi mais voltado pro natal/inverno, porque eu peguei a ideia de uma lista de contos natalinos. Meu plano era fazer um para cada casal, mas acabei abandonando a ideia bem rápido :v Enfim, eu já tenho mais dois quase prontos delas então, vai ter mais coisa muito em breve. E, acreditem ou não, vem ai uns continhos com a Jackie também, e seu futuro par 👀 A Jackie cresceu muito no meu coração, então ela vai começar a aparecer em muito mais coisas daqui pra frente, e acho que já era hora de dar um parzinho pra ela também, porque isso vai ser engraçado ashuasusahu De qualquer jeito, espero que tenham gostado desse conto, e nos vemos no próximo! :3

[insanityclause]

Deadline’s Contenders Television, the event where stars and showrunners talk up their shows ahead of Emmy voting, has unveiled its lineup.

The event kicks off on Saturday April 13 and runs through Sunday April 14 at the Directors Guild of America in LA. There will also be a virtual livestream of the event. Full details of the event and an RSVP link can be found here.

It will give you a sense of the hits of the last twelve months, as well as some shows that you’re about to be talking about, as the networks, studios and streamers vie for some awards love.

Stars attending include Tom Hiddleston, Nicole Kidman, Brie Larson, Kristen Wiig, Rebecca Ferguson, Lily Gladstone, David Oyelowo, Common, Jimmy Fallon, Giancarlo Esposito, Joey King, Andrea Riseborough, Sebastian Maniscalco, Bill Pullman, Kiefer Sutherland, Logan Lerman, Kelsey Grammer, Matt Bomer, Jonathan Bailey, Allison Williams, Maya Erskine, Nathan Fielder, Skeet Ulrich, Jeff Probst, Omar J. Dorsey, Harriet Dyer, Patrick Brammall, Sophia Di Martino, Sarayu Blue, Ji-young Yoo and Taylor Zakhar Perez.

Shows that will be featured across the two days include Parish, Masters of the Air, Lessons in Chemistry, The Morning Show, Silo, Palm Royale, The New Look, Survivor, Colin From Accounts, A Murder at the End of the World, True Detective: Night Country, We Were the Lucky Ones, Under the Bridge, Murdaugh Murders: The Movie, Loki, Alice & Jack, Genius: MLK/X, The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon, 3 Body Problem, Mr. Monk’s Last Case: A Monk Movie, Lawmen: Bass Reeves, Frasier, Mr. & Mrs. Smith, Fallout, Expats, Red, White & Royal Blue, Fellow Travelers, The Curse, The Caine Mutiny Court-Martial, Platonic and Bookie.

There will also be numerous top showrunners and exec producers including Chuck Lorre, David Benioff, D.B. Weiss, Alexander Woo, Benny Safdie, Graham Yost, Gary Goetzman, Lee Eisenberg, Abe Sylvia, Brit Marling, Zal Batmanglij, Gina Prince-Bythewood, Francesca Sloane, Lulu Wang, Sarah Schechter and Nicholas Stoller.

The studios, networks and streamers participating include AMC, Apple TV+, CBS, CBS Studios, FX, HBO and Max, Hulu, Lifetime, Marvel Studios and Disney+, Masterpiece on PBS, National Geographic, NBCUniversal, Netflix, Peacock, Paramount+, Prime Video, Showtime, Sony Pictures Television and Warner Bros. Television.

The event is sponsored by Apple TV+, Eyepetizer Eyewear and Final Draft + ScreenCraft in partnership with Four Seasons Resort Maui and 11 Ravens.

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Both Tom and Sophia will be there.

[from-memphis-with-love]

Gambling on Your Love - Ch. 2

Summary: Memphis Mafia antics cause trouble on set and put Elvis' relationship with the film's director on thin ice. Amidst this chaos, he finds himself increasingly drawn to his co-star, Francesca, who challenges him to consider a more serious path in life. Their growing connection, marked by moments of vulnerability and the thrill of new affection, leads to a pivotal evening that could change Elvis's life forever. Will he embrace the possibility of true love, or will his old habits die hard?

You can go back and read chapter one here. Word count: 9,800 Warnings: Outdated gender dynamics; crude humor; sexual content; alcohol use.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up!”

“Hey, E.P. Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey.”

“Hands off yer snakey!”

Elvis knew those annoying hyucks and haws anywhere, especially beating down his door at the crack of dawn. He yanked on a black silk robe and tied it at the front. 

“We know you’re in there, E! Come to the door!”

He could hear the alcohol and pills still imbibing their speech and doubted they’d even went to bed last night. Opening the door to his home proved that no, they in fact had not gone to bed last night. At least not their own.

Joe Esposito wore a frumpled paisley polo shirt that was half tucked into his black slacks. One shoe was missing and there was old vomit on the one poor mahogany loafer present. Jerry Schilling had sweat through his beige three-piece suit and struggled to keep upright on the pebble driveway leading to the patio.

Marty Lacker and Billy Smith were leaning against one another, using each other’s gravity to stand up. The saddest mountain in the valley. Red West, sober and only a pinch aggravated, a vein bulging from his sweating forehead, opened his arms up for a mighty hug and a few wallops on Elvis’ back. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth before asking, “So why haven’t you answered any of our calls? You know I had to call fucking Parker to clue us in on where you went off to.”

“It hadn’t been that long,” Elvis insisted, glancing at his neglected answering machine.

“Longer!” Joe wailed, leaning all over Elvis and rubbing his pink forehead into Elvis’s silky sleeve. “Oooh, it feels so cool against my face. Say, where’s the bathroom around here again?” He gestured towards the pool right out back and Elvis guided his hand to straight down the hall. 

“First room on the left.” Or was it right? He didn’t use the downstairs as much in this house. Those double glass doors leading to the pool veranda freaked him out at nighttime. He made a mental note to buy some curtains. Getting everyone some water and ginger ale to nurse on, Elvis kicked back in his recliner, still in his loungewear with almost a full house. He hadn’t been so casual since childhood, without even his slippers on, for God’s sake. But everyone drank deeply and munched on the little cheeses and crackers he’d set out just in case they needed to soak up some of the liquor sitting on their bellies. He could get wild around this group of men. 

His reputation was something that he never really tended liberally. It was effortless to display whatever it was that made his fans flock to him. In all regards, he was just himself and it seemed to work to get him this far. His fridge was full, his bank fuller, houses in every state (that he liked to visit), top shelf dames for the picking. Why, just the other night he’d (almost) taken Francesca on a date. She insisted otherwise, but his cheek still sizzled with that little peck, he could smell her perfume when he shut his eyes. Hot spiced wine and caramel. He couldn’t get enough. 

The image he needed to maintain for this production was demanding and he realized that some of the worry he carried, in making this work, in making a mark, in doing more than just producing a film—in crafting a classic; was not for himself alone. The heaviness was shared for her. Frannie. She’d been in films before, he’d even watched a few of them. Some strange indie films, an avant garde piece with a French director, with her voice distastefully voiced over. She had a few commercials, television and radio. 

Francesca might not be selling out stadiums, but she certainly had a devoted following of fans. Some of them were mixed in with his, albeit intermittently and much quieter than his raucous crowd. Young ladies with long straight hair and plaid skirts, glasses and berets, tracksuits and pinstripes. Artsy types. Sophisticated types. And of course, young men by the droves. 

She always waited patiently for them, one by one, talking with them. Graciously asking them how their families were. Sometimes she remembered specific fans’ names, told them about their gifts seated on her mantle or dangling from her rearview mirror. She always had time for them, always radiating humbleness. She was grateful for every interaction, every autograph, every bouquet and box of chocolates. Frannie was working class at heart, just like Elvis. They both had a gift that lifted them from poverty, and both of them never forgot their roots, feeling more comfortable around the “little people” rather than their contemporaries. 

So it meant something to him. To inadvertently have a stronghold on the helm of her career. He’d blame himself for the rest of his life if he did something to steer her into a media storm. He watched her perform when she thought no one else was looking. He learned that when she was rehearsing, she had a whimsy about her. A playfulness in everything that she did. But she was also precise, always hitting her mark, yet subduing herself. She was saving her true magic for the camera film. Like an endurance sprinter, pacing herself. When she was alone, or under the impression she was, Frannie flourished. Like the night he first saw her on the television, an angel on stage. She commanded hearts with ease, turning heads, widening eyes, craning necks. He could watch her for hours. 

“So, who’s the girl? You know we know there’s a girl,” Joe asked, pouring himself a drink while plopping down in the only dent Elvis had managed to carve in the slippery white leather wraparound couch.

“There’s always a girl!” Marty hiccupped, his eyes shut as he sunk down in the crook of the couch’s arm, his cheek mushed against the wooden panel. They weren’t wrong. Elvis was by all accounts a ladies’ man. Women were the gentler sex and he’d always adored them, lovely and flirty as they came. He liked what he liked.

The Memphis Mafia had always been his traveling pack, but just for this film that he wanted to distance himself if only a little bit. Just to take things, well, seriously. He knew the boys were his weakness. They could get him partying all night long, blowing his money at casinos, bars, races. He loved the fellas, but this was only temporary.

But looking at ‘em all, so sad and slumped on his couch, strewn about his living room, stumbling back from the bathroom, he wanted to hang loose, too. Relax. Unwind with the boys a little. They were all dying to see what it was like on set. But more importantly, they were dying to meet Francesca.

“I saw her on a billboard on the way here! That dark haired doll with those come hither eyes,” Red whistled, rubbing his hands in that scamp way. “Oooh wee. Nothing gets me going more.”

“She’s a lady on set, but I guarantee she’s a wild cat in the sack, isn’t she, Presley?” Joe snickered, nodding his way.

Elvis felt a momentary pang in his heart. Then, he felt a childish itch to fib, but he relayed the truth, “Frannie and I are just friends for now. But trust me, it ain’t for the lack of trying.”

The fellas nodded solemnly, sharing glances with one another. “Typical games. They want you to try, try, try until you almost can’t see the finish line anymore.” Billy chided.

“Nothing quite like the fire of a hard-to-getter,” Red chuckled dryly. “She’ll make you work for it. But I can tell you just from looking at her, it’ll be worth it.”

Elvis wanted to pivot the conversation away from Frannie. It felt off to talk about her like a conquest. While he wanted her willing and wanting, batting those lashes at him, swooning for him, it just wouldn’t be quite right. She just didn’t seem like the type to fawn and frill. She never had a moment of, “Wow! You’re really Elvis Presley!” She’d taken him as a man, as her equal. A coworker, a co-star. A foothold on the wall-climb of success.

Once his boys had a power nap, a greasy fast food breakfast, and a long ride to the studio with the top down, they were right as rain, springing out of the Cadillac one after another.

“Good morning, Mr. Presley,” a young crew member winked. It was the girl from a few days ago that’d tried getting his attention. Looking at her now, she was quite the pretty freckled thing. Wispy bleach blonde hair pulled back in a high, twisty ponytail. Her hair was thinner than Francesca’s. So blonde it was almost pink. She had on a lot of make-up, maybe. He was apparently not the best at pegging if a girl had any on or not, if she was subtle enough with it. But she had black clumps in her eyelashes. Pretty, still.

The fellas tipped their suggestive glances towards him, wiggling brows, laughing and slapping him on the shoulders. Out on the hot concrete, the huge garage style bay door was open. Apparently, the air conditioning had gone out over the weekend and everyone was going to have to just power through it. The breeze was nice and there were more crew members lingering outside, smoking and shooting the shit.

Cassandra had gotten her hair cut, the graying wisps framing her face as she glared at him from across the way. She watched them cautiously, critically. He knew instantly that he would be under scrutiny with his boys around, but what’d started as a seed of worry had died and in its place agitation bloomed. He never liked the idea of being anything but his authentic self. His boys were nothing but a little harmless fun, and they weren’t causing a disturbance. Yet…

On set, Elvis noticed someone he hadn’t before, not only because of the new face, but also because he was escorting a brilliant mare, blonde and spotted, who shook her head and whinnied softly. He kept to himself, in a torrid conversation with the director, luring her attention back to his face.

Francesca’s scenes weren’t being rehearsed until the afternoon, but she was always in attendance early. She was inside, dark hair tousled by the breeze, chatting with the make-up crew and Eddie, who was already back on set, albeit with a neck brace and bandages squeezing his fractured hand. He gave a thumbs up before wincing, making the guys laugh.

“Looks like you at that age,” Red jibbed, as Eddie was almost a head shorter than him, gangly and pale. The poor kid was made to be behind the camera. Which was too bad, considering he had a lot of charisma. He told Frannie and Elvis jokes between gracious thank yous when they drove him back to his place. Kid still lived with his parents. In a basement no less. Eddie’s well-loved station wagon was outside and Elvis pointed at it, half-heartedly saying, “If I had to have a family car, that’d be the one.”

“That’s the car that would make you a father?” Francesca had laughed, that flighty, birdsong sound that haunted his dreams. Literally. He dreamt of her, feverishly, night after night since their not-date at the carnival. At first, they were silly dreams, wherein he was pantless and asking for directions in his second grade classroom and Francesca was the teacher answering snidely, “Yes, you may use the restroom, Elvis.”

Saturday he’d seen her in his childhood home. She was a little girl with braided pigtails and a sunhat too big for her tiny head, letting diamonds of sunlight in. They played together until it was time for him to wake up. One of those dreams he couldn’t remember the devices of, just the impression, the feeling he’d been left with when blinking his eyes open.

But there was one dream, his fervid dream just last night, where Frannie let him in, let him take her on a real date, wining, dining, charming her. Making her fall in love with him. Dark arms reached from the backs of their dining chairs and before he could shout, he was plunged into pitch black. Flashes of sunlight and song, mirth. He awoke with her in his bed, her beautiful back facing him, the linens bunched at the dip of her elegant waist. He would dream of lifting that sheet, but instead he drew her into his arms, inhaled her lush scent, felt her soft tresses against his face. His eyes had shot open and without even looking down, he could feel the space between the blankets and his belly where his morning wood tented the sheets.

A cold shower had been imperative. And then his crew had arrived, worried that he was in a slump (or more likely needing a place nearby to crash while they slept off their inebriants). But those feelings returned in full force the nearer he drew towards her. 

Sensing his approach, Frannie turned to him with a face so lovely it made his heart ache. He inhaled sharply, never as off kilter with his words than with her. She just did something to the part of his brain that told his mouth to say things.

“You look stunning, Frannie,” Elvis rubbed her arm and although she didn’t pull away, she wasn’t at all receptive to the touch, or returning the familiarity in any way.

It wasn’t until she leaned in with a worried look in her eye that she said, “There’s a reporter on set. I want everyone on their best behavior.” She hadn’t emphasized “everyone,” but she might as well have. He wanted to kick rocks or maybe go find a hole. Suddenly, thoughts that never plagued him before came rushing in, a worry that he could be the architect of his own undoing. He felt as if he was being eyed, damn near looked down upon. Like she waited for him to step out of line and make a mistake, sending her inevitably and gracefully swooping in to save his bumbling ass. 

Over by the craft table, Joe gestured towards Frannie and whispered, “That’s her, that’s her right there, shining like the sun. Talking to Elvis.” The boys made a beeline towards her and introduced themselves one by one, everyone remarkably tame.

She was still on the balls of her feet, her heels lifted, her composure fracturing when she watched the collective headturn of all the Memphis Mafia, eyeing bleach blonde and buxom Debbie who rapidly approached. She was a background dancer, the waitress that one of the male side characters was supposed to fall for. The girl who had winked at him just earlier. It took him a minute before he recognized her.

Debbie cut a line towards them, ignoring Francesca’s presence obliviously, so close to Elvis that she reached out with frosted pink nails and fixed his starchy white collar. “There ya go. I know how you like lookin’ your best, Mr. Presley.” She was chewing gum, strands of her hair getting occasionally snared on her glossed lips. “You wanna go see a movie after this? I’m free.”

He blinked in surprise at her boldness, but swerved the invitation tactfully, even with the boys egging him on.

“She says she’s free, Elvis,” Billy snickered.

Elvis grinned. “I’m so tired of movies, maybe something like lunch another time.” He didn’t intend anything but cordialness, but he instantly saw a shift in Francesca’s features. Her brows pinched momentarily, her lips thinned. She took a minute step back, acknowledging the situation.

Debbie was over the moon, clapping her hands together girlishly with a squeal behind her teeth. She had a gummy smile. He knew he’d done something that he’d regret, even if he didn't necessarily feel guilty.

Francesca walked away without a word, her perfume following her. He didn’t know whether to try and talk or just let her go. But watching her walk away, his decision not to trail left him hollow for the remainder of the day. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, about her face in that moment.

*

“So, like I was saying. My favorite place ever to shop closed down last week and I’ve been so upset about it. Where else am I gonna find another consignment boutique around here? Gah!”

Elvis nodded. “You should try secondhand, there’s a lot of good—”

She cut him off with laughter. “No way! You shop at thrift stores, too?!” Her voice was up there, volume wise.

“Oh, sure! I grew up shopping secondhand. This old spot back home, Tupelo Treasure Trove—”

“Shut up! You’re from Tupelo? My mom is from Saltillo!” She slapped his chest, her hand lingering for just a little too long. “That’s crazy! I bet we crossed paths before at a grocery store or a park, or like, on the street maybe. How funny would that be?”

Red and the others snickered behind him, rescuing him from menial conversation with a well-meaning loud girl, a natural reflex they’d honed to perfection over the years.

“He’s gotta get to make-up, ma’am,” Jerry politely interjected, hauling Elvis back.

“Yeah, he looks like hell, look at that,” Marty ribbed, mussing up Elvis’s hair, leading him towards crew. He craned his neck to look for Frannie and although he spotted her, she never glanced up at him.

While he was getting his hair sprayed and his pores powdered in, he saw Colonel Parker off to the side. He appeared as surly as ever, arms crossed and face puckered as he watched all the young people on set scurry around, getting everything perfect.

He approached Elvis. “Still just doing rehearsals? Thought you’d be filming by now at least,” he said gruffly, lighting a cigarette inside, something that Cassandra had strictly forbidden, proclaiming that the smell made her gag. 

“The director just wants to make sure that everything is perfect before we start filming.”

“That’s what retakes are for.”

It was always an argument with Parker about something, anything. He would find the little details to gripe about. Even while getting the lion’s cut of the share, he was still a begrudging miser. He coughed wetly, pointing at Elvis. “This hotel fee is going to fucking kill me.”

Elvis didn’t take the bait. He just went positively along, refusing to argue. “Prices are crazy. If you want, I can cover the cost of the hotel, too.”

“Oh, would you be so kind?” Parker stamped his cigarette out on the bottom of his shoe, flicking it into a trash can. “Look, there’s press on set.”

“Trust me, I know.” Although, he hadn’t seen anyone yet with a camera or a recorder. They must be trying to gather information without being noticed first.

“Just don’t lean in to any of those disparaging questions they’ll ask you about your other films and you’ll do fine like you always do. You're proud of your work and you’re excited to give a female director a chance.” He couldn’t finish that without chuckling at the end. 

Elvis nodded along, knowing that if he misspoke about his previous work, he’d just be burning bridges in every direction. It was true, he was proud of his work even if it wasn’t his best. He’d put heart into all his roles, even if he’d been playing hard most of those blurry nights. 

“You’re up, hun,” the director’s rotund, sweet-faced assistant pitched her head towards the main set, the floor of the casino. He had another solo to play, but the music wasn’t the focus so much as the conversation his character was supposed to be overhearing between the crooked casino owner and a dirty cop.

The boys were chatting up some pretty girls at the craft table, lining their pockets with ding dongs while they were at it. They waved to him, all thumbs ups, wolf whistles, and cheers for their main man. 

Elvis took his spot at the piano bench, looking for Frannie again, settling his sinking heart before he focused on the ivories. The first tones were somber and the words he whispered were pitifully sad. He’d wanted Frannie to hear them. He selfishly wanted to see if she would be impressed with his playing or follow the lyrics with him. To see if she would still be avoiding him or not. 

But she didn’t show, and his lines were rehearsed and his scenes acted and danced out without a hitch in his step and declined to answer a lot of questions from the weaselly reporter that approached him, sticking to jovial, safe, canned responses about everyone doing their best.

*

Francesca avoided him. Jackass. Him and his little friends. They were acting like a bunch of pigs. She didn’t want to get muddy. She wasn’t some groupie.

Taking a break outside and enjoying the shade, the fresh air and flowing breeze made for a cooler air than the stuffiness on set. She could hear shouting from inside and after listening intently, she could tell that it was Cassandra, pitching an absolute fit. Stepping closer to the door, she propped it open to get a peek. Earlier in the day, Cassandra had grown instantly agitated by the presence of Elvis’s so-called “Memphis Mafia.” The obnoxious group of men had no right to be there. Their carefree demeanors sullied the professionalism on set, and both she and Frannie knew that they would serve as a very unhealthy distraction to their second leading star.

And they encouraged Elvis to flirt with all the girls on set. Ugh.

Cassandra had been fuming, practically pulling at her hair all day. She wasn’t saying a word, not yet, while she watched the boys cutting up daily, shmoozing with the pretty young crew members as the press sniffed for blood in the water. It was just embarrassing. Him. His antics. His effect on the film.

But now, the good director was spearing her anger directly towards the group of men, yelling at them to, “Cut the shit! How else would liquor end up in the punch?”

“Look, lady, we understand why you’re so pissed off. But we had nothing to do with this. Less than nothing. I don’t even know nothing. That punch tasted like regular ol’ punch to me earlier, but let me try some now.” The one she was sure was named Joe was clapping back at her, but it only pissed her off more when he sampled a bit from the pouring ladle.

“Get out! All of you, off the set. Anyone who is not getting paid by me, leave my set.” Her voice lowered an octave and she shut her eyes, calming her nerves and letting the men gather their wits.

Elvis was shocked, his face one of disbelief, but all the guys just laughed.

Francesca watched him lean into Debbie, close enough to smell her cheap perfume, to see the glitter she sprinkled in her hair to try and catch some of the low light and make him notice her. They exited out the door and Frannie, well, she was content to practice her lines. She wouldn’t let him dirty her on-set decorum. Maintaining good composure, she just barely tilted her head to acknowledge him, her expression blank. He was turning out like every bad rumor she’d heard about him.

Hell, when Francesca told her sister Connie about landing the star role alongside Elvis, she’d gasped and warned her to cage herself around a man like that. They just liked playing around and dipping out when things got inconvenient for them. Say something wrong, do something obnoxious, not laugh at one of their jokes and that was all they needed to deflate the joyride and steer things off course. 

But Frannie hadn’t set a course. She was just having fun and quite content to stop things at anytime. If they’d even started, that is. After all, she had told him that wasn’t a date. But they were supposed to go to dinner this weekend. Somewhere out of town, he wouldn’t tell her where. 

She was done thinking about this, letting him live in her head. She cleared some well-needed space and when he was hot on her tail after his rehearsal, when he’d magically garnered a moment away from his rowdy pack of dogs, he was laughing, shouting back at them, “One sec, just one sec!”

“Don’t bother,” she thought but didn’t say. Decorum, Frannie. Work professionalism was key in climbing the rickety ladder of fame. One wrong step was all it took. An explosion on set, a scorned would-be lover, jilted and hysterical, unable to continue filming, production on hold until a replacement could be found and—she swallowed, clutching her throat, turning to face him with a placid smile.

“Elvis. Don’t you want to get back to your friends?” Her tone was level, but he wasn’t stupid. 

“Well, hey. Hey, how are you feeling? You seemed a little distant on set today.”

“Distant? Distant, oh, I’m sorry, I’m not going for that with Josephine’s character.”

He waved that away. “No, no. I mean you. What’s wrong, did I do something? Say something?” He looked like he wanted to reach out and pull her closer. He already was with his eyes, raking them over her.

Usually she would never buck up, never cause a stir. She gracefully knew to take the pacifist route in this world very much dominated by men. But seeing him with Debbie genuinely rattled her. It was a strange, foreign feeling. 

“Look, I’m not a girl who can just sit pretty on a shelf and wait for you to come and fancy playing with me again. Do you… understand what I’m saying?” She struggled to keep her tone calm. He had truly unnerved her. She’d liked him, dammit. Still really did. But she kept it to a whisper, knowing that a nosey reporter could be anywhere on set, lurking in the shadows to get the next scoop, maybe overhearing a conversation on set that he shouldn’t have.

Francesca was horrified at the thought of any bad press getting out about the movie before its theatrical release. She didn’t want to do anything to put this project in danger. It meant so much to her, definitely more than one night at the fair. But she’d gotten kinda dizzy on the swings after a whole funnel cake, and he’d wiped powdered sugar off the corner of her lips, absently licking it from his finger. Her heart had skipped a beat. Now, it’d just sunk into the pit of her stomach. Like a portent, black storm cloud on the horizon, a man approached her with a greasy smile to match his sickly green checkered shirt and ocher colored shorts. He had a badge around his neck, a thick pair of prescription glasses resting on his bulbous nose and a pair of extra shades propped on his balding white head. He didn’t have a camera crew in tow, but he did have a recorder in hand, and he was already fumbling with it before he made his way to her.

Francesca steeled herself, trying to read him as a hard hitter or a blow-over. Some papers wanted a fluff piece about the latest film to placate the average reader. But others wanted to dredge up the worst of the worst, all the drama, all the angst, all the little petty arguments taking place behind the scenes that didn’t matter even an ounce in the grand picture of filmmaking. She saw them as pests, wondering if there was a fly buzzing in front of her face.

“Francesca Ferrara,” he slanted, his recorder hissing in the background, rustling his voice like wind through leaves. “What’s it like working alongside Elvis Presley for your biggest film yet?”

Maybe he was oblivious to how duplicitous it was to pose a question about her much more famous co-star, especially as the very first thing out of his mouth. She just barely masked the twitch of her lips, keeping her smile on.

“It’s amazing! I cannot believe that I actually get to work with Mr. Presley. You would not believe how professional he is. I couldn’t ask for a better co-star.”

He looked satisfied with that answer, asking another. “And this is your first Hollywood debut, right? What would you say to any potential moviegoers who don’t know which ticket to splurge their hard earned dollar?”

“I’d have to say this one. I’m so thankful for the opportunity to star in a movie directed by Cassandra Morgan. She is amazing. So, to not give too much away, just know that there’s going to be a lot of runaway laughs, heart stopping romance and a rocking soundtrack that’s going to shake the house.”

“Excellent, sweetheart. Excellent. And you just look fantastic. Fantastic, darling. What’s your diet? All the ladies are crazy about that cabbage right now. But you’ve always said you have a hearty appetite. How do you do it?”

Frannie was taken aback, but not surprised that his line of questioning devolved into simple dribble. What do you like to eat, Francesca? Do you go for a morning run like Miss Natalie Wood? Are you seeing anybody, Miss Ferrara? Do you have a man in your life?

She cleared her head, smiling though the bullshit. “That’s my little secret. But you can bet that I was taught never to be late for dinner, and I don’t count on skipping any meals. I’m Italian, after all! You’ll have to tell me about that cabbage, though.” She laughed daintily, even though she hadn’t really said anything all that humorous. She just wanted this to be over, clean and short. But he just kept prodding.

“So, I’ll ask the obvious. You and Elvis are playing a couple and have quite a few romantic scenes. Does any of that chemistry translate off camera?” The silence was filled with that anticipatory hiss. The recorder hungry for a story. One she was hesitant to give in full.

She couldn’t deflect his insinuation too hastily, for it would look like she was trying to hide something. Instead, she rolled her shoulders and held her chin up when she said slyly, “Isn’t that every girl’s dream?”

Thankfully, the questions shifted to lighter things about co-stars and estimated release dates, which she couldn’t really comment on other than a hopeful guess for next fall. When he concluded their interview and went on his way, she felt eyes on her. Turning to glance over her shoulder, in the shadows of the casino set, Elvis’s creepy agent, Colonel Parker was watching. The same dickhead who tried to lowball her agent and get her to take a smaller cut and put her name second. Absolutely not. She did not like the man, and by the looks of it, he didn’t like her either. She could live with that just fine.

*

Elvis watched from the sideline, a cool towel around his neck. He apologized profusely to the boys and also on the boys’ behalf. He just couldn’t believe that any of them would do something like that. Hell, when he interrogated them about it outside, they all had clean pockets. No one had a flask. So whatever alcohol had been used, the bottle had been disposed of. He wanted to check the trash cans to see if he could find any evidence, but what use would that do? They were already banned from set, and now Elvis was on what some might consider thin ice. Luckily, Cassandra Morgan was forgiving, seeing the obvious confusion and worry on Elvis’s face when he tried to make sense of what happened.

Apparently, some of the crew members were enjoying an early lunch. The punch left out had tasted a little dry and the smell was off. Elvis wondered if maybe some fruit juice had simply fermented. None of the boys would do something like this. Sure, they were jokesters, but they would never involve unwitting victims in their pranks. Absently, he had to worry if someone was trying to sabotage him.

With the air conditioning out and summer setting in, it was already starting to get hot with so many people. Debbie was saying something but when Elvis leaned in to hear what she was saying from all the way down there, he spotted the new horse trainer talking to Frannie. She was laughing, letting him release her hand after giving it a kiss, her eyes glittering. She looked refreshed, happy. Saying, “Antonio, you’re too much.”

Antonio was helping her up on the golden mare, letting her get used to the feel of such a powerful animal under her reins. She looked pretty and comfortable, like she’d done this before. When she responded to something the dashing Spaniard said to her, her dark hair spilled over her shoulder, mesmerizing him, Antonio, and certainly any other man with eyes in attendance. Her outfit was smart, tight fitting in a black pants and silver heels, the stark color of her slacks making the hand helping her quite glaring. Even though Elvis couldn’t make out what they were saying to each other, he could tell that Antonio was fishing. 

His fists balled and released at his sides, but he kept it cool, watching as Antonio exited stage left and Frannie took her place just off camera. In this scene—a heavily stylized dream sequence—she was supposed to blaze down the steps of the casino and steal a loose carriage horse to make a quick getaway from armed men who are tailing her, guns blazing! A few sound guys were stand-ins for the henchmen and posted up with the fingers as pretend guns. One knelt for a quick long range shot and the other was in pursuit as soon as Cassandra called action.

Francesca pumped her arms, her heels clicking as she ran, picking up speed before attempting to make the jump up to the saddle. She made a good first attempt, skipping to a momentous slide and up—up! Well, not exactly all the way up. She could almost get her leg over the saddle, but would fall just a little short and of course, her valiant hero came to lend a hand.

Antonio smiled, clearly loving the image he’d built for himself as the charming, helpful casanova. His hands once again grabbed her lithe thighs when she ran towards him, like she might tumble into his arms. And up she went, given that extra boost needed to soar up and land gracefully on the saddle. The horse, Goldie, adjusted with a mild-mannered flick of her blonde tail as she boredly chuffed.

“There you go, you had it in you the whole time. Just don’t be scared. She will catch you, just trust her and trust yourself.” Antonio served, but she was only somewhat interested as she nodded at him, grinning in acknowledgement and towards Cassandra to continue on with another take.

This time everyone was in a quiet standstill as Frannie focused ahead on the sprint path and took off. Without falter, she draped her right leg over the saddle like lace, fitting her feet into the stirrups and grasping the reigns. Goldie’s mane fluttered and she looked tired of the action, ready to gallop free. But she was a good girl, enjoying pets from Frannie to her big broad neck and ears. Gentle creature, tamed by a beautiful woman. 

Elvis watched on with a foreign pang in his heart, but there was pride in seeing how accomplished Frannie looked, mounted high like a queen on her throne.

“Good job, my girl! I knew you could do it. Just takes a little practice, like everything else.” Cassandra’s southern accent grew thicker when she was tired, and her words were practically a drawl in this heat at high noon. “Let’s pick this back up tomorrow, folks! Give poor Goldie a break—and a round of applause! For Goldie and her handsome handler.”

The ladies in attendance all looked at Antonio with saucy, behind-the-hand laughter and then turned to giggle amongst themselves. Except Debbie, who was still very much enthralled with Elvis’ presence, her hands clasped low and her breasts pushed high up, betting for his attention.

Frannie waved goodbye from up on Goldie, ironically doling out kisses just like royalty. Always in good humor and ready to make someone smile.

He went to approach her, to stride up the steps to see her. Debbie’s arm looped into his so fast it gave him whiplash.

“Whoa, whoa!” He kindly brushed her away, “Almost lost my footing there, thanks for the hand. I’m gonna go talk to our lovely friend there,” he trailed, hopping up the set steps with his hands in his pockets. 

Frannie could sense him approaching even while she conversed with Antonio, saying something about, “The Costa del Sol sure must be lovely this time of year.” She laughed elegantly, the kind of laugh that you stopped your own laughter to listen to. But here she was, putting on a polite show. Elvis could tell instantly that Frannie didn’t like Antonio, she was just being cordial. But the same couldn’t be said for the Spaniard, who was leaning against Goldie with his tan, brawny arms crossed, letting his eyes greedily wander all along Frannie’s figure. He was whispering, his brown eyes darting up to see Elvis rapidly approaching.

Frannie turned on her heels, never displaced, never caught off-guard. She touched her well-manicured, red lacquered pointer finger at his chest, muttering tightly, “We were just having a conversation about classic bikes. You have an old sportster, don’t you?”

He could tell even with the craft of her words, that the deliverance was key and that he wasn’t being welcomed in. Antonio looked smug, smirking at Elvis from over Frannie’s shoulder.

Elvis didn’t avoid eye contact with the younger man. “A Sportster. A Bonneville. Superhawk. Got an Electra Glide on the way with some customizations, before they’re being sold to the public next year.” He didn’t like being steered on when and where to talk, especially if some chump was going to try coming in on his girl.

Frannie leveled him with a split-second, whip crack glare. Like she couldn’t believe he was actually trying to flaunt his wealth. Or was he just puffing up like a peacock in some misguided attempt to win some perceived fight with Antonio? Either way, it shouldn’t have stung Elvis as much as it did. He was often regretting the things he said moments after he said them.

Antonio glanced between them, sliding his hand out with owl eyes. “Hello, sir. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Antonio.”

“Antonio here is only supposed to be on set for a few weeks, so we have to make the most of our time with him while we can.” The insinuation in her voice wasn’t lost on him but Elvis didn’t want to believe it. Whatever chemistry they had couldn’t have soured so quickly. He then realized why Frannie had been acting terse with him since this morning. 

Was he being an ass right now? He stopped just short of rubbing his hand tiredly down his face. She was jealous and flaunting herself to tease him. Him and all the other men on set who would chomp at the bit for her affection, pouring their intentions into every word, every lift onto a pony. She was stunning, even when she was ticked off. 

*

Elvis suddenly felt alone. His boys were probably at home, having a good time playing his records and eating his food, while he was here pacing the dark hallway to the dressing rooms. He’d spent only a short amount of time thus far in there, seeing as he was already dressed to the nines when arriving on set for rehearsals daily. Filming would commence next week and he was more than ready.

He let his brain toss his thought-slurry up one more time and somehow, amidst the fight for logic and courage, courage won out and he marched towards Frannie’s door. Knock, knock, knocking before he’d actually come up with anything to say to her.

“One second!” He heard a loud bash like she hit her vanity. She coughed a little painful grunt and stumbled to the door. “Jesus. I’m coming.”

When she answered the door, her heels were off, and she had her right foot clenched in her hand.

“I stubbed my toe for this?” She rolled her eyes, not hiding her irritation with him now. He wasn’t used to members of the fairer sex disregarding him like this. If any other woman had done that, it would have made his blood boil. But with Frannie, it only made him want her more.

“Frannie, talk to me, sweetheart. What’s going on? What did I do?” He wanted to make it right. Alleviate some of her pain. He didn’t like seeing her so upset—especially at him.

But she just glared back. “I already told you that I do not want to speak to you.”

“Well, you didn’t say that.”

“I guess it was implied. I would appreciate it if you got out of my dressing room, please.”

“I just want to talk to you, Frannie. Don’t be like this. Can we at least go out for a walk? Some fresh air, maybe? It’ll do you good, you’ll love it.”

“I’ll hate it.”

“Nah, you won’t.”

“Get out,” she cut, shutting the door, but he caught it with his fingers. 

He shouted out in pain and she instantly pulled back, worriedly looking over him, but he used that as an opportunity to slip inside and shut the door behind him.

“Not until you talk to me.”

“I told you to get out! Do not—” Francesca collected herself before she misspoke, her heart leaping into her throat. He was so close. “Do not cause a scene.”

“Look, we’re behind closed doors. I’m not gonna raise my voice or nothing like that. I just wanted to talk to you, Frannie. We’re safe from the press. Just… talk to me. If you’re mad, let me know what I can do to make it up to you.”

Frannie was fuming. “Make it up to me? Making it up to me would encompass you apologizing me to start with and I don’t know, changing your entire personality perhaps? Because it seems you are incapable of going five minutes without ogling the next set of perky breasts.”

She knew she caught him completely off guard with her rashness, but she wanted him to feel struck, just like she had. Because for a moment, she entertained the idea, the fantasy that the rake Elvis Presley could be reined in, tamed by one woman. She couldn’t believe herself for believing in him for even a second.

“What are you talking about, Frannie? Oh come on, are you really upset about Debbie?” His tone was incredulous, like he couldn’t fathom fault in drooling over multiple women. 

“You cannot be that dense, Elvis.” She scoffed, turning away from him to pour herself a drink. Just some water, to settle her roiling stomach. He was actually having a physical effect on her. More than one.

“I was just joking around with her. You heard me turn her down? Didn’t you?” Then he grinned. “Besides, you and I, did we ever go on a date, really? I didn’t think you even really liked me all that much, Frannie.”

Oh, he was so full of shit!

“I heard you tell her you’d go to lunch sometime.”

“I was just letting her down easy! Lunch isn’t very sexy, is it?”

“Then how would you like it if Antonio asked me to lunch. Huh? What if he asked me to go with him to Spain later this summer? And we ride horses on the glittering sands together?”

That made him falter. “Well, I... that’s completely different. Situationally.”

“How? Situationally.” Smart ass.

“Because you know that I like you.”

Now it was her turn to be caught with her mouth open, closing it without a word, mulling over her response. He was being vulnerable with her right now. Real.

He looked even more handsome in the low light of her dressing room. The red lamp shades made it look like he had hearts scattered in his blue eyes. He took a step towards her and she didn’t move away. 

“Is that why you’re upset, Frannie?” He asked, his voice like velvet. “’Cause you like me, too?”

Of course she liked him. How could she not? He was a recipe for heartache wrapped in charm and velour. It would be too easy to fall for him, as easy as breathing. He was right in front of her now, looming above. The back of his hand brushed against the apple of her cheek. She inhaled sharply, her eyes searching his for the answer to the questions her heart asked.

Should I really be doing this?

He made the decision for her. When his lips crushed against hers, she cleaved to him, letting him melt against her. She could feel his relief when she didn’t retreat from him. He smiled, enveloping her face in his hands, petting her ears, exhaling indulgently, saying thank you with eager presses. 

Elvis was pushing her back till her knees hit her settee. She stopped him, her hands on his chest. When he pulled away for air, blinking slowly while gazing down at her, his mouth parted. He almost panted with passion. She was helpless not to let him continue. He took her down, his large body pinning her to the cushions. She felt warmth pooling between her thighs. He was such a fucking good kisser, his hands busily caressing her, his tongue gently sweeping against her bottom lip, kindly asking for permission. She readily allowed him in, letting him lick against her in the same beat of his hips, which had begun to pitch forward against her own.

“Frannie…” He muttered into her neck, making her shudder and cling to him. What was he doing to her? Whipping her into a fervor pitch just with a kiss and a deft roll of his hips like this. He was parting her thighs, making her accept him between them. His trousers were silky against her skin, his mouth desperate against her neck and his hands exploring her body. Starting with the dip of her waist, he let his fingers trace her. 

She arched into his touch, settling comfortably with him on top of her. It kept creeping up on her, the brevity, the quickness with which she was allowing this to happen. But she never pushed a man away because she was prudish or scared, only because she wanted to know that he meant to stay with her. That he was willing to get to know the real her. Yet something about them felt right. She couldn’t help but adventure headlong into this foray with him, learn these things about one another. About how sweet his mouth tasted, or how sturdy his hands were, gripping the small of her waist.

The vapors were rising and she could feel her body flush with heat. Her head began to spin, grounded by his weight. She touched him, cradling his face, pulling him into another kiss. Stirring his hips against her, she let out an unbecoming sound, one that he wanted her to make again and again with the way he continued that very movement.

“This side of you, how long was she waitin’ to come out?” He asked against her lips, stealing her breath with another smoldering kiss. Marking her with bruising passion. He was eating her up and she couldn’t get enough, even knowing that this was hurtling too fast, too far. 

Maybe he felt her about to retreat, to douse the flames, so he quickened his pace, rocking his hips against her, lacing her hands with his and hoisting them above her head while he kissed her fluttering throat, leaving little love bites as he went. 

She cleared her throat. 

“You want me to be honest with you?” Francesca poised the question and he was hooked on hearing the answer. Gazing down at her, his hair falling out of place. “I do like you, Elvis.” She felt his hot hands slipping up her thighs, darting underneath the shadows of her dress. The fabric began to bunch at her waist and he was mesmerized, watching her face as he pet her. 

“No sex,” she insisted breathlessly when he cupped her panties, palming the white cotton. Had she been anticipating this deep down? She wore the type of undies that turned him on most and delighted at the sight of his mouth parting.

“Anything you say, Frannie.”

His lack of fuss surprised and endeared her. What a good boy—a gentleman, even. Taking what he could get. Perhaps he really did like her. If only that were enough.

“This isn’t how I usually… conduct myself.”

“Well, I really love the way you’re conducting yourself right now.” He notched her dress up just a bit higher, catching the little bow at the top of her panties. It took his breath away.

“You should see how they match the top,” she alluded, rolling her shoulders and letting her dress fall. He eagerly assisted, tugging it down to show her lush breasts, attractively on display in a white cotton bra. It complimented her olive skin nicely. He touched her with open hands, gripping her impatiently. His thumbs pressed gingerly on either cup and he whirled in small circles, slowly stirring her, sending jolts down her spine with every spin. He was making her squirm, touching her so thoroughly. And he’d barely graced her bare skin. She worried if she could control herself if he did. She could be a voracious lover, taking a man for an endurance ride, and Elvis seemed all too ready for the task. If he had a tail, it would be wagging. 

“So, does this mean you’ll let me take you on a real date now?”

She laughed throatily. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, big guy.”

He shivered, holding her tighter. “I like that. Keep calling me that.”

“Only if you keep behaving.” She retorted, with only a sliver of venom laced in. Still, he knew what he needed to say. To really get the panties to drop. And maybe get her to… like him more.

“You know. I’m sorry. About before, I am. I’m just—You…” Where to start? He breathed out, tousling her pretty hair. He didn’t need to make excuses; he knew she wasn’t the type of woman to wanna be fed any. But she waited attentively, patiently, for him to say the right words that would reel her heart in. Maybe she’d never be able to love a guy like him, but he could at least get her to kinda like him. “I’m sorta, y’know, stupid when it comes to women’s feelings. I know that I like the attention, it makes my big dumb ape brain happy when a girl tells me I’m her favorite artist, or I’m sooo handsome—”

“Oh, please.” Frannie snorted. Elvis giggled too. 

“I’m going somewhere with this, I promise. I just want to say, I’ll quit listening to the part of me that says to entertain these girls and start listening to the really, really loud part, begging, pleading to listen to—” He leaned into her neck, still as stone, his hands poised on her ribs. She froze. “Frannie! Francesca!” He was tickling her, making her laugh involuntarily. She couldn’t even accuse him of playing unfairly; he was making her fight for every breath between bouts of laughter.

When he let her go and they were both catching their wind, looking longingly, almost warily at one another, she put her hand on his wrist, “Take me to dinner tomorrow.”

“Why not tonight?”

“Hmm. I’m busy tonight,” she coyly replied, letting him place butterfly kisses along her exposed collar. He dipped a few to the pillow of her cleavage, nuzzling into her, brushing his cheek along them. Almost purring. She played with his hair.

“You ever ride a motorcycle?”

She chuckled and he looked up to see what he’d said that was so funny. Behind a daintily furled finger, she grinned. “I’m very acquainted with them, darling.”

His ears went red and his cheeks bloomed with color when she called him sweet names. “Then I’ll pick you up tomorrow night!”

“Or, how about we ride separately, but together.” She could tell she was speaking his language when his eyes brightened. There was that wagging tail again.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow at Sullivan’s.”

*

He couldn’t believe it. She was letting him in. He felt her skin. He tasted her tongue. He had her fingers squeezing his while he kissed her. When he palmed her down there, he’d felt how wet she’d gotten just from kissing. She was mesmerizing and constantly on his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He dreamed about her again. 

They were riding horses through the woods together, somewhere in Tennessee. It was snowy and there were perfect white flakes on her thick lashes. She looked like an angel atop a black mare. Next thing he knew, they were beside a roaring bonfire and he was taking her savagely in the dirt, her cries like music in his ears.

Again, he awoke thrusting his sheets, reaching out for her and grasping nothing. Dreams were weird and his always had been exceptionally so, but now they were also sex fueled. Francesca Ferrara fueled.

He brushed his teeth and thought of Frannie. What was she having for breakfast right now? He got dressed and wondered what she would be wearing. He stepped out into the living room, tumbling into the game room to play some billiards with his boys and pass the time until he could see her again. 

Filming started Monday and Cassandra wanted everyone at their best, well rested. They stopped by a local burger joint. Joe griped about the director for the third time that day.

“I’m just saying. That lady had some nerve. Talking over me like that. Wouldn’t even let me explain. I don’t drink that stuff. You know what was in that punch?” He stabbed a steak fry into ketchup. “I’ll tell you. That was Malort.”

All of them gagged in response.

“Malort. Cheap garbage. It's a better drain cleaner than it is as a liquor. I don’t buy that shit. Don’t know anybody who does. Maybe poor guys on welfare.” Joe shuddered. “That’s some immature high school level shit, pouring it into an open drink like that though. I’d never do that. We’d never do that.”

Elvis held up his hands. They knew he believed them. “She’s just terrified of anything going wrong, is all. It’s her first big budget film and she’s critical of everything.” Especially me.

“She’s giving you a hard time cause you’re a man,” Marty quipped around a mouth full of burger, the others nodding in agreement.

“Damn, this is good,” Red gruffed, hardly saying a thing while he inhaled his plate, sucking his fingertips after every bite.

“I’ll talk to her about letting you guys back on set,” Elvis promised, knowing that he could grease the wheels with Cassandra a little bit. Tell her he’d let her family have free merchandise or something. Even a meeting with him and all that jazz.

“Ehh, don’t even worry about it, champ. We’ll just be distracting you, keeping you from uh—making it with that Ferrara girlie.” Lamar Fike’s double chin jiggled as he laughed.

Elvis grinned. “Don’t talk about my Frannie.��� 

“Oh, his Frannie, he says!” Marty chimed in, banging the tabletop, turning heads in their direction. 

“I’m just trying something a little different. A little more…”

“Serious?” Red finished, the others waiting on his answer like a bunch of sad sacks. Like Elvis was going to marry and settle down with two and a half kids, white picket fence, labrador and station wagon. 

Elvis shrugged, picking at the fries on his plate, anticipating dinner tonight. He had made the reservations and the breathless host had told him they could have a whole section to themselves, but he asked instead to just be seated far from the door, maybe outside on the balcony. He didn’t want a bunch of people coming up to them, star struck. He’d just wanted a private evening alone with her.

“Yeah. Just a bit more serious this time. Frannie is a really nice girl.”

“Don’t go falling in love.” Red warned.

“Don’t go breaking that nice girl’s heart, you old dog!” Lamar added, clearing his plate.

It was the last intention on his mind. In fact, it was paradoxically the one thing keeping him the tightest bound from diving into things with her. He wanted to take her on a trip to Europe, he wanted to take her to Bloomingdale’s and let her pick out anything her heart desired. Buy her a puppy, buy her a fur coat, buy her a matching pink Cadillac, buy her a house across from his so that he could see her at his leisure. 

But above all, he didn’t want to hurt her. And inevitably, he always hurt the women he got involved with. He already gutted her with just a little harmless flirting. It worried him that his wandering eye would get the best of him and she wouldn’t be able to find it in herself to continue forgiving him, accepting him back into her life. He couldn’t do that to her. She said so herself, that she didn’t want to just be part of his failures, his shortcomings, his bad films, his broken relationships and used women.

Francesca wanted something he would have to dig deep to give. His truest self wasn’t the type of man that she deserved. He had a lot of thinking to do while he picked out which outfit looked best. “Navy or white?” He asked the guys, holding up two ties, the poll for white winning out.

He wore a sporty black three piece, his red under shirt conveying his bleeding, beating heart. His gold cufflinks clinked against his helmet as he placed it on his head, careful not to mess up his hair. Tugging on his jacket, he headed out the door. Sunset painted the mountainous horizon in swatches of orange and violet. The blue sky fading beneath dotted with starlight, guiding him towards the city as his bike ate up smooth black asphalt. He knew to meet her at her apartment so that they could ride together—but separate—as she’d put it.

Elvis caught Francesca again, looking out the open window. And he wondered how long she had been waiting there for him, in a flowing red dress and black leather boots. Riding boots. She looked like a mermaid, wind racing lovingly against her figure, whipping her hair wildly about her face. A vision of loveliness. Maybe this was what it meant to truly take a heart’s gamble and roll the dice.

[m2024a]

https://notizieoggi2023.blogspot.com/2024/02/chiara-ferragni-tutta-la-famiglia-nel.html

Chiara Ferragni, tutta la famiglia nel mirino degli hater: la mamma cancella i commenti negativi. La nuova strategia dell'imprenditrice Chiara Ferragni ancora sott'attacco. E con lei anche mamma e sorelle. Chinque si "avvicini" su Instagram all'influencer più seguita d'Italia, viene colpito da aggressioni social e shitstorm (le ondate di insulti online da parte di utenti social). Molte persone non hanno perdonato a Chiara Ferragni la vicenda del pandoro-gate (e tutte le implicazioni che ne sono seguite), trovando ogni modo possibile per accanirsi contro di lei. A spiegare la delicata situazione dell'imprenditrice è Roberto Esposito, Ceo di DeRev, una società di strategia e comunicazione digitale. Intervistato dal Messaggero ha rivelato che «chiunque venga accostato al bersaglio è sotto tiro. Una contaminazione potenziata dal fatto che i commenti sono ancora limitati sul suo profilo». Gli insulti alla sorella Valentina La sorella più piccola non esce indenne dalla bufera che ha coinvolto l'influencer. Sotto ai suoi post i commenti che mirano a colpire l'imprenditrice sono tanti, qualcuno si vuole accanire su di lei, altri vogliono aggirare il blocco che Chiara ha attivato sotto ai propri post. «Puoi dire a tuo cognato Federico che i problemi dell'Italia sono anche le truffe che fa sua moglie? Grazie», si legge sotto uno dei post. «L’errore non era la comunicazione. L'errore era la sostanza - ha aggiunto qualcuno -. Tu guadagnavi un sacco di soldi da un'operazione fintamente benefica. E lo sapevi benissimo, tanto che hai aspettato la multa per ammetterlo». Sorella di Chiara e con 5 milioni di follower, Valentina Ferragni è un bersaglio scontato del popolo di Instagram. Una vittima collaterale della guerra dichiarata da tanti utenti all'imprenditrice milanese. A farne le spese, è tutta la famiglia. Presa di mira anche l'altra sorella, Francesca Commenti, prese in giro e insulti anche nel profilo social di Francesca Ferragni, più giovane della sorella Chiara di due anni, che conta poco più di un milione di follower su Instagram. «Tutto pagato coi soldi fatti lucrando sulla pelle di bimbi malati....... CAROGNE!!!!!!!!», uno dei commenti che si legge sotto la foto delle sorelle in un ristorante in Piemonte. Il post, però, è di diverse settimane fa e il commento molto più recente a testimoniare il fatto che la battaglia social contro l'influencer è più viva che mai e gli haters non accennano a diminuire. Molti di questi commenti negativi vengono alimentati anche dal fatto che ricevono tantissimi like. La mamma fa scudo, cancella i commenti negativi Marina Di Guardo, mamma di Chiara, è in prima linea per difendere la figlia. La donna, senza paragoni con l'impero di follower della blogger, conta un ampio numero di follower: quasi 700mila. Ma scorrendo i post la differenza con gli altri membri della famiglia è netta, nessuna frase di inguria, nessun insulto. Che non sia stata oggetto di bersaglio? Qualcosa fa pensare il contrario, come il commento che si legge soptto uno dei suoi post: «Perché ha cancellato il mio commento?». Per tutelare la figlia potrebbe aver adottato la strategia di eliminare le frasi degli haters. Una scelta, di sicuro, è stata già fatta. Ed è quella di limitare i commenti. «Chiara Ferragni ora è nella versione capitana d'impresa» «È la quarta Ferragni che vediamo in questa crisi: prima l’imprenditrice vittima, poi la donna contrita, a seguire l’influencer in timida sperimentazione e ora la capitana d'impresa che fa la voce grossa attraverso le comunicazioni formali», ha sottolineato Roberto Esposito al Messaggero. Una vera e propria evoluzione. «È passata da una sorta di supplica speranzosa di non essere abbandonata, convinta che tutto sarebbe passato, al considerare che probabilmente non passa. Quindi, ora, sta vincendo la paura, di fronte alla quale capita spesso di alzare i toni pur di salvare il salvabile». L’isolamento Secondo l'esperto di comunicazione, l'imprenditrice avrebbe dovuto prendere subito «le redini della crisi» per poterla controllare come «trendsetter e protagonista attiva». Chiara Ferragni sarebbe risultata «più affidabile» se avesse dimostrato «di essere all’altezza della sua fama». La strategia l'influencer l'ha scelta da tempo ormai, quella di chiudere i commenti e di isolarsi. Il rischio però, ora, è un altro. «Si è chiusa in un castello, in un isolamento straniante considerata la sua storia e le ragioni del suo successo - ha concluso -. Qui, al momento, sta il suo più grande errore». Il «contrattacco» della Ferragni All'orizzonte pare però esserci una svolta nella strategia di difesa. Dalle lacrime, all'isolamento, ora sembra emergere qualcos'altro. Nell'ultimo comunicato contro Pigna dopo lo stop al contratto, Fenice (società legata alla Ferragni) ha operato per una comunicazione decisa, in cui si sono sottolineati i problemi a livello contrattuale. Come sottolineato al Messaggero da Andrea Camaiora, esperto di comunicazione e Ceo di The Skill, è arrivato il momento del contrattacco. «Al di là del merito di alcune situazioni, la debolezza reputazionale dell’influencer ha aperto la strada a un regolamento di conti nel mondo dell’economia e della moda». Vedere l'imprenditrice e Fenice in difficoltà a qualcuno conviene. Sono grandi e «ingobranti» nel mercato. La posta in gioco è alta, tanto che «a muoversi sul "ring" sono alcuni dei migliori consulenti», ha sottolineato Camaiora. «Per la Ferragni non è una guerra lampo» «Devono ridurre al minimo l’interesse mediatico per tutto ciò che gira intorno al mondo Ferragnez - ha proseguito l'esperto di comunicazione -. Poi vi sarà la fiammata di rito, con gli eventuali rinvii a giudizio o, perché no, c’è da augurarlo, le archiviazioni». La fine è tutt'altro che vicina. «Se qualcuno aveva fatto credere a Ferragni che sarebbe stata una guerra lampo, ha sbagliato». Un periodo complicato per il team comunicativo dell'imprenditrice al centro della bufera.

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

Neutralised (1994) [3/?]: My Version of The Shared Universe

For those of you unfamiliar with 'Chicago Hope', it was actually set in a shared universe. Also, 'Suspiciously Similar' characters will be involved (Due to actors playing multiple roles). This is my take on that:

Shows:

Chicago Hope

Homicide: Life on the Street

Law & Order

Neutralised

Oz

Picket Fences

characters (I'm not listing anyone who was in 20 episodes or less) under the cut. Also technically these are not all the characters as I'm still writing stuff.

Chicago Hope - Characters (& Actors):

Doctor Aaron Shutt (Adam Arkin)

Doctor Phillip Watters (Hector Elizondo)

Doctor William 'Billy' Kronk (Peter Berg)

Doctor Dennis Hancock (Vlondie Curtis-Hall)

Doctor Diane Grad (Jayne Brook)

Doctor Keith Wilkes (Rocky Carroll)

Doctor Jack McNeil (Mark Harmon)

Doctor Daniel Nyland (Thomas Gibson)

Doctor Jeffrey Geiger (Mandy Patinkin)

Nurse Camille Shutt (Roxanne Hart)

Doctor Lisa Catera (Stacy Edwards)

Alan Birch (Peter MacNicol)

Doctor Joseph Cacaci (Bob Bancroft)

Doctor Robert Yeats (Eric Stoltz)

Doctor Gina Simon (Carla Gugino)

Doctor Jeremy Hanlon (Lauren Holly)

Doctor Francesca Alberghetti (Barbara Hershey)

Homicide: Life on the Street - Characters (& Actors)

Detective John Munch (Richard Belzer)

Detective Meldrick Lewis (Clark Johnson)

Lieutenant Alphonse Giardello (Yaphet Kotto)

Detective Tim Bayliss (Kyle Secor)

Detective Frank Pembleton (Andre Braugher)

Detective / Sergeant Kay Howard (Melissa Leo)

Detective Mike Kellerman (Reed Diamond)

Officer/Detective/Lieutenant Stuart Gharty (Peter Gerety)

Detective Paul Falsone (Jon Seda)

Lieutenant/Captain/Detective Megan Russert (Isabella Hofman)

Detective Laura Ballard (Callie Thorne)

Detective Terri Stivers (Toni Lewis)

Captain/Colonel George Barnfather (Clayton LeBouef)

ASA Ed Danvers (Željko Ivanek)

J.H.Brodie (Max Perlich)

Detective Beau Felton (Daniel Baldwin)

Detective Stanley Bolander (Ned Beatty)

Dr Julianna Cox (Michelle Forbes)

FBT Agent/Officer Mike Giardello (Giancario Esposito)

Detective Rene Sheppard (Michael Michele)

Dr. Alyssa Dyer (Harlee McBride)

Detective/Captain Roger Gaffney (Walt MacPherson)

Law & Order - Characters (& Actors)

Sergeant Maxwell Greevey (George Dzundza)

Junior Detective Michael Logan (Chris Noth)

Captain Donald Cragen (Dann Florek)

Exex ADA Benjamin Stone (Michael Moriarty)

ADA Paul Robinette (Richard Brooks)

DA Adam Schiff (Steven Hill)

Sergeant Philip Cerreta (Paul Sorvino)

Dr Elizabeth Olivet (Carolyn McCormic)

Senior Detective Leonard W Briscoe (Jerry Orbach)

Lieutenant Anita Van Buren (S. Epatha Merkerson)

ADA Claire Kincaid (Jill Hennessy)

Exec ADA/DA John McCoy (Sam Waterston)

Junior Detective Reynaldo Curtis (Benjamin Bratt)

ADA Jamie Ross (Carey Lowell)

ADA Abigail Carmichael (Angie Harmon)

Junior/Senior Detective Edward Green (Jesse L. Martin)

Interim DA Nora Lewin (Dianne Wiest)

ADA Serena Southerlyn (Elisabeth Röhm)

DA Arthur Branch (Fred Thompson)

Neutralised - Characters (& Actors)

Abraham Machado (Alfred Molina)

Andreina Neri (Robin Wright)

Caleb Willow (Cary Elwes)

Dove Lewis (Alfre Woodard)

Esmé Verity (Janaeane Garofalo)

Faustus Sanchez (Hank Azaria)

Grayson Bryant (Harold Perrineau)

Hunter Kingsley (Chris Farley)

Ichabod Mortimer (Danny DeVito)

Jared Foster (Kirk Acevedo)

Kane Carter (Philip Seymour Hoffman)

Lance Carter (John Goodman)

Monday Duke (Patricia Arquette)

Noam Gold (Oliver Platt)

Omega Finch (Willem Dafoe)

Peyton Blythe (Regina King)

Russel Warszawski (Adam Sandler)

Sullivan Landon (Christopher Lloyd)

Tuesday Duke (Reese Witherspoon)

Victor Jamison (Mike Myers)

Winslow Warszawski (Brad Garrett)

Xavier Solomon (David Spade)

Yancy Haggard (Kiefer Sutherland)

Zoey Knight (Geena Davis)

OZ - Characters (& Actors)

Augustus Hill (Harold Perrineau)

Tobias Beecher (Lee Tergesen)

Ryan O'Reily (Dean Winters)

Kareem Saïd / Goodson Truman (Eamonn Walker)

Miguel Alvarez (Kirk Acevedo)

Vernon Schillinger (J.K. Simmons)

Simon Adebisi (Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje)

Christopher Keller (Christopher Meloni)

Zahir Arif (Granville Adams)

Hamid Khan (Ernie Hudson Jr.)

Nacim Bismilla (Re Hanna)

Huseni Mershah / James Monroe Madison (Roger Guenvuer Smith)

Leroy Tidd / Salah Udeen (Jacues Smith)

Jefferson Keane (Leon)

Kenny Wangler (J.D. Williams)

Arnold 'Poet' Jackson (muMs the Schemer)

Paul Markstrom (O.L. Duke)

Junior Pierce (Malé-Lexington Alexander)

Malcolm 'Snake' Coyle (Treach)

Johnny Post (Tim McAdams)

James Robson (R.E. Rodgers)

Mark Mack (Leif Riddell)

Jaz Hoyt (Evan Seinfeld)

Scott Ross (Stephen Gevedon)

Andrew Schillinger (Frederick Koehler)

Nino Schibetta (Tony Schibetta)

Peter Schibetta (Eddie Malavarca)

Antonio Nappa (Mark Margolis)

Chucky Pancamo (Chuck Zito)

Dino Ortolani (Jon Seda)

Don Zanghi (John Palumbo)

Joey D'Angelo (Goodfella Mike G)

Mario Seggio (Todd Etelson)

Salvatore DeSanto (Phil Campanella)

Raoul 'El Cid' Hernandez (Luis Guzman)

Carmen 'Chico' Guerra (Otto Sanchez)

Carlos Martinez (Carlos Leon)

Carlo Ricardo (Juan Carlos Hernandez)

Cyril O'Reily (Scott William Winters)

Rev. Jeremiah Cloutier (Luke Perry)

Timmy Kirk (Sean Dugan)

Alonzo Torquemada (Bobby Cannavale)

Richie Hanlon (Jordan Lage)

Shirley Bellinger (Kathryn Erbe)

Bob Rebadow (George Morfogen)

Agamemnin Busmalis (Tom Mardirosian)

Donald Groves (Sean Whitesell)

Jackson Vahue (Rick Fox)

Desmond Mobay / John Basil (Lance Reddick)

Richard L'Italien (Eric Roberts)

Nikolai Stanislofsky (Phillip Casnoff)

William Giles (Austin Pendleton)

Henry Stanton (Thomas G. Waites)

Colonel Edward Galson (John Doman)

Eli Zabitz (David Johansen)

Kipekemie Jara (Zakes Mokae)

Dean Alvah Case (Charles S. Dutton)

Sean Murphy (Robert Clohessy)

Claire Howell (Kristin Rohde)

Diane Wittlesey (Edie Falco)

Clayton Hughes (Seth Gilliam)

Karl Metzger (Bill Fagerbakke)

Eddie Hunt (Murphy Guyer)

Lenny Burrano (Skipp Sudduth)

Father Ray Mukada (B.D Wong)

Doctor Gloria Nathan (Lauren Veldez)

Governor James Devlin (Željko Ivanek)

Martin Querns (Reg E. Cathey)

Doctor Frederick Garvey (Milo O'Shea)

Warden Leo Glynn (Ernie Hudson)

Tim McManus (Terry Kinney)

Sister Peter Marie Reimondo (Rita Moreno)

Picket Fences - Characters (& Actors)

Sheriff James 'Jimmy' Brock (Tom Skerritt)

Doctor Jill Brock (Kathy Baker)

Kimberly Brock (Holly Marie Combs)

Matthew Brock (Justin Shenkarow)

Zachary 'Zach' Brock (Adam Wylie)

Deputy Kenny Lacos (Costas Mandylor)

Deputy Maxine 'Max' Stewart (Lauren Holly)

Carter Pike (Kelly Connell)

Ginny Weedon (Zelda Rubinstein)

Douglas Wambaugh (Fyvush Finkel)

Judge Henry Bone (Ray Walston)

DA John Littleton (Don Cheadle)

DA Barnaby Wood (Peter Frechette)

ADA Petrovic (Jason Beghe)

Father Gary Barrett (Roy Dotrice)

Laurie Bey (Marlee Matlin)

Howard Buss (Robert Cornthwaite)

Doctor Joanna 'Joey' Diamond (Amy Aquino)

Lisa Fenn (Alexandra Lee)

Frank (David Proval)

Rachel Harris (Leigh Taylor-Young)

Ed Lawson (Richard Masur)

Peter Lebeck (Michael Jeter)

Milton Lebeck (Chris Owen)

Reverend Henry Novotny (Dabbs Greer)

Principal Michael Oslo (Roy Brocksmith)

Cynthia Parks (Elisabeth Moss)

Bill Pugen (Michael Keenan)

Lydia Brock (Cristine Rose)

Aiesha Campbell (Bruklin Harris)

Brian Latham (Gregory Vignolle)

Agent Donald Morrell (Sam Anderson)

[rideretremando]

Dalla bolla FB di Ivano Porpora

"Mi piacerebbe avere una piccola sezione dei 20, 25 libri più rappresentativi dei migliori autori in Italia; e credo che interessi anche i miei allievi, e chi mi segue.

Qui sotto la lista dei libri. Parte l'elezione de L'ALTRO LIVELLO. Potete votarne solo dieci. Se ne votate undici, cancello il vostro commento, perché state portando rumore. Il libro può anche non essere quello: ripeto, per me Nove ha raggiunto l'apice con La vita oscena.

Aldo Nove - Milano non è Milano, 2010

Alessandra Carnaroli - La furia, 2023

Alessandra Sarchi - L’amore normale, 2014

Alessandro Baricco - Mr Gwyn, 2011

Alessandro Piperno - Con le peggiori intenzioni, 2005

Alessio Forgione - Napoli mon amour, 2018

Alessio Mosca - Chiromantica Medica, 2022

Alfredo Palomba, Quando le belve arriveranno, 2022

Andrea Bajani - Un bene al mondo, 2016

Andrea Canobbio -

Andrea Donaera - Io sono la bestia, 2019

Andrea Pomella - L'uomo che trema, 2018

Andrea Tarabbia - La calligrafia come arte delle guerra, 2010

Andrej Longo - L'altra madre, 2016

Antonella Cilento, Lisario o il piacere infinito delle donne, 2014

Antonella Lattanzi - Questo giorno che incombe, 2021

Antonio Manzini - 7/72007, 2016

Antonio Moresco - La lucina, 2013

Aurelio Picca - Il più grande criminale di Roma è stato amico mio, 2020

Benedetta Palmieri - Emersione, 2021

Carola Susani - Eravamo bambini abbastanza, 2012

Claudia Durastanti - La straniera, 2019

Claudia Petrucci - L'esercizio, 2020

Claudio Morandini - Neve, cane, piede, 2015

Claudio Piersanti - Quel maledetto Vronskij, 2021

Daniela Ranieri - Stradario Aggiornato di tutti i miei baci, 2021

Daniele Del Giudice - Orizzonte mobile, 2009

Daniele Mencarelli - Tutto chiede salvezza, 2022

Daniele Petruccioli - La casa delle madri, 2020

Dario Voltolini - Le scimmie sono inavvertitamente uscite dalla gabbia, 2006

Davide Orecchio - Storia aperta, 2021

Demetrio Paolin - Conforme alla gloria, 2016

Domenico Starnone - Vita mortale e immortale della bambina di Milano, 2021

Donatella Di Pietrantonio - L’arminuta, 2017

Edgardo Franzosini - Questa vita tuttavia mi pesa molto, 2015

Edoardo Albinati - La scuola cattolica, 2016

Edoardo Zambelli - Storia di due donne e di uno specchio, 2018

Elena Ferrante -

Emanuela Canepa - Insegnami la tempesta, 2020

Emanuela Cocco - Tu che eri ogni ragazza, 2018

Emanuele Tonon - La luce prima, 2011

Emanuele Trevi - Due vite, 2020

Emidio Clementi - L’amante imperfetto, 2017

Emiliano Ereddia - Le mosche, 2021

Eraldo Baldini - L’uomo nero e la bicicletta blu, 2011

Ernesto Aloia - I compagni del fuoco, 2007

Ezio Sinigaglia - Eclissi, 2016

Fabio Bacà - Nova, 2021

Fabio Bartolomei - We are family, 2013

Fabio Geda - Nel mare ci sono i coccodrilli, 2010

Fabio Genovesi - Esche vive, 2011

Fabio Stassi - L'ultimo ballo di Charlot, 2012

Fabrizio Patriarca - Tokyo transit, 2016

Federico Platania - Il Dio che fa la mia vendetta, 2013

Filippo Nicosia - Come un animale, 2010

Filippo Tuena - Ultimo parallelo, 2007

Francesca Genti - Anche la sofferenza ha la sua data di scadenza, 2018

Francesca Manfredi - L’impero della polvere, 2019

Francesca Marzia Esposito - Corpi di ballo, 2019

Francesca Mattei - Il giorno in cui diedi fuoco alla mia casa, 2019

Francesco Dimitri - Pan, 2008

Francesco Maino - Cartongesso, 2014

Francesco Pacifico - Class, 2014

Francesco Pecoraro - La vita in tempo di pace, 2014

Francesco Targhetta - Perciò veniamo bene nelle fotografie, 2012

Franco Stelzer - Il nostro primo solenne stranissimo Natale senza di lei, 2003

Fulvio Abbate - Roma vista controvento, 2015

Giacomo Sartori - Anatomia della battaglia, 2005

Gian Marco Griffi - Ferrovie del Messico, 2022

Gianluca Morozzi - Blackout, 2004

Gilda Policastro - La parte di Malvasia, 2020

Giordano Meacci - Il cinghiale che uccise Liberty Valance, 2016

Giordano Tedoldi - Tabù, 2017

Giorgia Tribuiani - Blu, 2018

Giorgio Falco - La gemella H, 2014

Giorgio Fontana - Il mago di Riga, 2022

Giorgio Vasta - Il tempo materiale, 2008

Giovanni Dozzini - Qui dovevo stare, 2021

Giulio Mozzi - Le ripetizioni, 2021

Giuseppe Genna - Dies irae, 2006

Greta Pavan - Quasi niente sbagliato, 2023

Helena Janeczek - La ragazza con la Leica, 2017

Ilaria Palomba - Vuoto, 2022

Laura Pariani -La valle delle donne lupo, 2011

Laura Pugno - Sirene, 2007

Letizia Muratori - Casa madre, 2008

Licia Giaquinto - La briganta e lo straniero, 2014

Lorenza Pieri - Il giardino dei mostri, 2019

Lorenzo Mercatanti - Il babbo avrebbe voluto dire ti amo ma lo zio ne faceva anche a meno, 2014

Luca Ricci - Gli autunnali, 2018

Luigi Romolo Carrino - Non è di maggio, 2021

Maddalena Fingerle - Lingua Madre, 2021

Marcello Fois - Nel tempo di mezzo, 2012

Marco Balzano - Resto qui, 2015

Marco Drago - Innamorato, 2023

Marco Mancassola - Last love parade, 2005

Marco Missiroli - Atti osceni in luogo privato, 2015

Marco Peano - L'invenzione della madre, 2015

María Grazia Calandrone, Dove non mi hai portata, 2023

Maria Rosa Cutrufelli - Il giudice delle donne, 2016

Marino Magliani - Peninsulario, 2022

Mario Desiati - Spatriati, 2022

Marta Cai - Enti di ragione, 2019

Massimiliano Santarossa - Pane e Ferro, 2019

Matteo Cavezzali - Nero d'inferno, 2018

Matteo Galiazzo - Cargo, ne 2013

Matteo Melchiorre -Requiem per un albero, 2004

Mauro Covacich - La sposa, 2016

Michele Mari - Leggenda privata, 2017

Michele Orti Manara - Il vizio di smettere, 2018

Michele Vaccari - Un marito, 2018

Niccolò Ammaniti - Io non ho paura, 2001

Nicola Lagioia - La città dei vivi, 2020

Orso Tosco - Aspettando i naufraghi, 2018

Paola Barbato - Zoo, 2019

Paolo Cognetti - Sofia si veste sempre di nero, 2012

Paolo Colagrande - Salvarsi a vanvera, 2022

Paolo Giordano -

Paolo Nori - Vi avverto che vivo per l’ultima volta, 2023

Paolo Zanotti - Bambini bonsai, 2010

Paolo Zardi - Il giorno che diventammo umani, 2013

Piera Ventre - Gli spettri della sera, 2023

Piersandro Pallavicini - Atomico Dandy, 2005

Raul Montanari - Il buio divora la strada, 2002

Remo Rapino - Vita, morte e miracoli di Bonfiglio Liborio, 2019

Romolo Bugaro - Non c'è stata nessuna battaglia, 2019

Rosa Matteucci - Costellazione familiare, 2016

Rosella Postorino - Le assaggiatrici, 2018

Rossana Campo - Dove troverete un altro padre come il mio, 2015

Sacha Naspini - I cariolanti, 2020

Sandro Campani - I passi nel bosco, 2020

Sandro Veronesi - Caos Calmo, 2005

Sara Gamberini - Maestoso è l’abbandono, 2018

Sebastiano Vassalli - Le due chiese, 2010

Sergio Claudio Perroni - Entro a volte nel tuo sonno, 2018

Silvia Ballestra - La Sibilla. Vita di Joyce Lussu, 2022

Silvia Bottani - Il giorno mangia la notte, 2020

Simona Baldanzi - Figlia di una vestaglia blu, 2006

Simona Baldelli - Vicolo dell'Immaginario, 2018

Simona Vinci - La prima verità, 2016

Tiziano Scarpa - Cose fondamentali, 2010

Tommaso Pincio - Panorama, 2015

Tullio Avoledo -

Ugo Cornia - Quasi amore, 2001

Valentina Durante - Enne, 2020

Valentina Maini - La mischia, 2020

Valeria Corciolani - La regina dei colori, 2023

Valeria Parrella - Lo spazio bianco, 2008

Valerio Evangelisti - Noi saremo tutto, 2004

Vanni Santoni - Gli interessi in comune, 2008

Veronica Galletta - Nina sull’argine, 2021

Veronica Tomassini - L’altro addio, 2017

Vincenzo Pardini - Il valico dei briganti, 2023

Viola Di Grado - Fame blu, 2022

Vitaliano Trevisan - Works, 2016

Walter Pozzi - Carte scoperte, 2015

Walter Siti - Troppi paradisi, 2006

Wu Ming - 54, 2002"

Poi è partita una lotta nel fango di scrittori che gridano e si tirano i capelli e dicono meglio quello meglio quell' altro e poi io, ci devo essere io. Ed i miei amici x e y..."

E lui alla fine ha tolto il post.

[lucillebarker]

I asked for chaos today…

And ChatGPT said:

Here's a potential cast for the actors in Better Call Saul in a musical production of Gypsy:

Jimmy McGill/Saul Goodman - Bob Odenkirk as Herbie

Kim Wexler - Rhea Seehorn as Rose

Mike Ehrmantraut - Jonathan Banks as Pop

Chuck McGill - Michael McKean as Uncle Jocko

Howard Hamlin - Patrick Fabian as Tulsa

Nacho Varga - Michael Mando as Yonkers

Lalo Salamanca - Tony Dalton as Jocko Jr.

Gus Fring - Giancarlo Esposito as Mr. Goldstone

Kim's former boss, Rich Schweikart - Dennis Boutsikaris as Cigar

Jimmy's former cellmate, Huell Babineaux - Lavell Crawford as Tessie Tura

Kim's Mesa Verde colleague, Paige Novick - Cara Pifko as Mazeppa

Jimmy's former assistant, Francesca Liddy - Tina Parker as Electra

Jimmy's former law school classmate, Kim's friend, and fellow attorney, Rebecca Bois - Ann Cusack as Miss Cratchitt

In this cast, we see Bob Odenkirk as Herbie, the long-suffering agent and love interest of Rose, who is played by Rhea Seehorn. Jonathan Banks, who plays Mike Ehrmantraut, takes on the role of Pop, one of the three burlesque strippers who teach Rose's daughter to dance. Michael McKean, who plays Chuck McGill, is cast as Uncle Jocko, the owner of the Kiddie Troupe. Patrick Fabian, who plays Howard Hamlin, takes on the role of Tulsa, a dancer who falls for Louise, Rose's daughter.

Michael Mando, who plays Nacho Varga, is cast as Yonkers, another of the burlesque strippers. Tony Dalton, who plays Lalo Salamanca, takes on the role of Jocko Jr., Uncle Jocko's nephew. Giancarlo Esposito, who plays Gus Fring, is cast as Mr. Goldstone, the agent who books the burlesque show. Dennis Boutsikaris, who plays Kim's former boss Rich Schweikart, is cast as Cigar, a producer who hires the strippers.

Lavell Crawford, who plays Jimmy's former cellmate Huell Babineaux, is cast as Tessie Tura, one of the burlesque strippers. Cara Pifko, who plays Kim's Mesa Verde colleague Paige Novick, takes on the role of Mazeppa, another of the strippers. Tina Parker, who plays Jimmy's former assistant Francesca Liddy, is cast as Electra, the third stripper. Finally, Ann Cusack, who plays Jimmy's former law school classmate Rebecca Bois, is cast as Miss Cratchitt, a dance instructor.

Overall, this cast would bring a unique and diverse range of talents to a production of Gypsy, infusing the classic musical with a fresh energy and perspective.

Me: 😐😐😐😐

[luigidelia]

LE PAROLE SONO TENERE COSE grazie ❤ Ci metto un po' a scriverne. Se qualcosa possono restituire queste foto, il debutto de "La luna e i falò" è stato così. Appena una settimana fa. Lo terrò nel cuore a lungo. E lo rifarei anche domani. Il teatro pieno. Adulti, anziani, ragazzi insieme. Pubblico venuto per vedere una prima e riascoltare le parole di Pavese. Altro che titolo difficile. Le persone vogliono le cose alte, mettiamocelo in testa (parlo di Pavese, no di me). Amici, operatori che seguono il mio lavoro da anni, addetti ai lavori e non, venuti da ovunque, fino dalla Svizzera. Persone hanno fatto 300 km e preso la camera d’albergo. Non ho parole. Istituzioni mai così vicine e commosse per il mio lavoro. È la mia opera prima questo testo. 75 minuti di drammaturgia in solitaria tra parole mie e parole di Pavese diventate, spero, carne. Alla fine mi raggiunge Gerardo Guccini commosso per la scrittura, mi dice. Sono onorato. Paolo Ponzio, nuovo Presidente del Teatro Pubblico Pugliese, emozionato a parlarne dopo. Sono io che ringrazio te. Patrizia Ghedini, Presidente di ATER Fondazione, e ora cosa possiamo dire. Roberta Gandolfi, Università di Parma, che riporta a tutti che questo testo taglia e fa male. Molto. Pierluigi Vaccaneo, Direttore della Fondazione Cesare Pavese, che mi dice e mi commuove “sei nel gesto”. E so quanto vale questa citazione tra quelle di Pavese. A tutti faccio un dono. E' la cosa più decente che possa fare da qui. Non sono parole mie ma di Pavese ancora. Vengono da un articolo che si intitola "Gli uomini e le parole". È del 1946. E' a sua volta un dono che ho ricevuto. Lo ha ritrovato Cira Santoro, amica cara e forte di questo debutto e da ora custode con me di quanto è accaduto, nella sua copia del romanzo. Era stato ripubblicato, guarda caso, uno dei tanti “casi”, il 25 febbraio 1995, stesso giorno del debutto. Se siete arrivati a leggere fin qui leggete ancora questa parte che vi riporto in basso. È commovente. Siamo noi. A tutti quelli che hanno sostenuto con gli studi intermedi dell’estate 2022, con la co-produzione, con le parole distillate in radio, a loro e a chi non c’era fisicamente, ecco l’articolo. Con tenerezza e amicizia. Grazie. A prestissimo. “(…) Parlare. Le parole sono il nostro mestiere. Lo diciamo senza ombra di timidezza o ironia. Le parole sono tenere cose, intrattabili e vive, ma fatte per l’uomo e non l’uomo per loro. Sentiamo tutti di vivere in un tempo in cui bisogna riportare le parole alla solida e nuda nettezza di quando l’uomo le creava per servirsene. E ci accade che proprio per questo, perché servono all’uomo, le nuove parole ci commuovano e afferrino come nessuna delle voci più pompose del mondo che muore, come una preghiera o un bollettino di guerra (…)” Cesare Pavese, 20 maggio 1945 𝗟𝗔 𝗟𝗨𝗡𝗔 𝗘 𝗜 𝗙𝗔𝗟𝗢' 𝗧𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗱𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝘥𝘪 𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯 Luigi D’Elia 𝘭𝘪𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘓𝘈 𝘓𝘜𝘕𝘈 𝘌 𝘐 𝘍𝘈𝘓𝘖’ 𝘥𝘪 𝘊𝘦𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘗𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘢 Roberto Aldorasi 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘢 𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘰 𝘈𝘭𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘪 𝘦 Francesco Esposito 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘻𝘢𝘵𝘢 𝘥𝘢 𝘊𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰 – 𝘊𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘪 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘪 Davide Scognamiglio 𝘧𝘰𝘵𝘰 𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘻𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦 Michela Cerini 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘪 Francesco Dignitoso 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘻𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘶𝘻𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦 Francesca Vetrano e Archètipo 𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘢 Michele Pascarella una produzione Compagnia INTI di Luigi D’Elia e Archetipo con il sostegno di Teatro Pubblico Pugliese nell’ambito del progetto “𝘏𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘴” 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘻𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘢𝘭 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘢 𝘐𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘨 𝘝-𝘈 𝘎𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘤𝘦-𝘐𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘺 2014-2020 Festival Parthenium calling   e la collaborazione della Fondazione Cesare Pavese

[luigidalise]

Ornella Muti e Anna Foglietta, Luca Ward e Luigi Lonigro. E poi, ancora, Luca Manfredi, Maurizio Mattioni, Nadia Rinaldi, Mario Venuti e Pippo Balistreri. Sono alcuni dei vincitori delle varie sezioni del Premio Penisola Sorrentina, la due giorni che si è tenuta tra il teatro Tasso e il museo Correale, con una serata di gala conclusiva condotta dall'attrice Francesca Cavallin e dal direttore artistico, Mario Esposito, alla presenza del sindaco di Sorrento, Massimo Coppola, che ha consegnato riconoscimenti a grandi protagonisti del mondo del cinema e dell'audiovisivo. Il servizio della Tgr Rai Campania con interviste ad Anna Foglietta e Ornella Muti

[cinquecolonnemagazine]

Spettro autistico e corretta informazione: se ne parla alla Federico II

Proseguono alla Federico II gli incontri sul tema dello spettro autistico, neurodivergenza sempre più presente nella nostra società ma assolutamente poco conosciuta che comporta disagi relazionali e sociali e che, ancora, viene individuata come un disturbo psichico. Spettro autistico e i gruppi di lavoro dell'Ateneo Organizzati da un gruppo di lavoro multidisciplinare dell'Ateneo federiciano che coinvolge esperti per competenza e per esperienza, gli incontri vogliono promuovere sul territorio una rinnovata comprensione del fenomeno e avviare un dialogo con le istituzioni per stimolare una riflessione che permetta di mettere in luce quanto ancora deficitaria sia l'informazione sullo spettro autistico e ipotizzare, in maniera sinergica, un cammino di crescita e confronto per formulare proposte concrete di inclusione "possibile".  Il secondo appuntamento dei quattro in calendario, dal titolo 'Spettro autistico e corretta informazione' è in programma nell'aula Pessina del Dipartimento di Giurisprudenza (in corso Umberto I, 40). Dopo gli indirizzi di saluto di Matteo Lorito, Rettore dell'Università degli Studi di Napoli Federico II, Sandro Staiano, Direttore del Dipartimento di Giurisprudenza, Michelangelo Russo, Direttore del Dipartimento di Architettura, Antonio Pescapè, Delegato del Rettore all'Innovazione e alla Terza Missione, Marella Santangelo, Delegato alla Terza Missione del Dipartimento di Architettura, Carmine Foreste, Presidente Ordine Avvocati Napoli,e di Ottavio Lucarelli, Presidente dellʼOrdine dei Giornalisti della Campania, introdotti e coordinati da Maria Esposito, Responsabile dei rapporti con la Stampa del Rettorato della Federico II, si terranno gli interventi di Erminia Attaianese, del Dipartimento di Architettura, su ‘Comunicare e rappresentare lo spettro', di Francesca M. Dovetto, del Dipartimento di studi Umanistici, su ‘Autismo, comunicazione e linguaggio' e infine di Marilù Musto, Portavoce del Presidente del Consiglio Regionale, ‘L’autismo spiegato con un fumetto, stop alle parole che "fanno male"'. Dibattito Seguiranno il dibattito e le conclusioni a cura di Carmela Bravaccio, del Dipartimento di Scienze Mediche Traslazionali, e Roberta Alfano, del Dipartimento di Giurisprudenza. La partecipazione all'evento dà diritto a 6 crediti formativi dall'Ordine dei Giornalisti di Napoli, a crediti formativi dall'Ordine degli Avvocati di Napoli, a 1 CFU per gli studenti immatricolati fino all'a.a. 2019/2020 al corso LMG/01. Per immatricolati dall'a.a. 2020/2021 la partecipazione ai 4 eventi consente l'acquisizione di n.4 CFU. Foto di Sarah Salles da Pixabay Read the full article

[shield-o-futuro]

Não se preocupa Chess, ninguém nunca tava pronto na hora de receber visita dos filhos do futuro.

Sam: Vai por mim, ninguém estava mesmo. Até porque nós concordamos que isso é bem esquisito. Mas foi particularmente mais difícil pra sua namorada e a Hazel. E a Megan, que tem uma filha que é uma mentirosa compulsiva.

Francisca: Caramba, eu vou querer saber o que aconteceu?

Scarlett: Não, não vai. A gente pode, por favor, só ter uma noite de natal tranquila sem mencionar isso, por favor? Não quero ter que jogar chocolate quente no suéter feio de ninguém.

[notiziariofinanziario]

YAS E Microsoft hanno esplorato gli sviluppi e le potenzialità dell’Intelligenza artificiale

Un evento per permettere il dialogo tra le aziende e i giovani e far emergere idee e proposte sull'intelligenza artificiale. L’evento è stato organizzato da YAS e Microsoft, in collaborazione con EY, illimity e Bayer. Ad aprire l’incontro, gli interventi di Vincenzo Esposito, CEO di Microsoft Italia e di Alberta Pelino, Presidente di YAS. “Come giovani vogliamo mettere al centro del dibattito pubblico il tema dell’IA, che diventa ogni giorno di più parte integrante della nostra vita quotidiana”, dichiara la Presidente di YAS, Alberta Pelino. “L’influenza di questa tecnologia nel mondo del lavoro come in tutta la Società non può essere sottovalutata e pone quesiti fondamentali su cui noi giovani possiamo dare un contributo importante di idee e proposte”. “Il nostro Paese ha una grande opportunità di innovazione e crescita grazie all’adozione dell’Intelligenza Artificiale generativa e con il prossimo G7 possiamo contribuire a un confronto aperto sulle linee guida di sviluppo e diffusione di queste soluzioni per imprese e cittadini”, dichiara Vincenzo Esposito, Amministratore Delegato di Microsoft Italia. “Per cogliere tutti i benefici dell’IA generativa è necessario un dialogo aperto con tanti interlocutori, a partire dai giovani e dalle nuove generazioni. Sono orgoglioso della collaborazione con YAS e dello scambio di idee, progetti e prospettive sul ruolo positivo che la tecnologia può avere per il futuro”. A seguire, si sono confrontati sul tema Francesca Bitondo, Government Affairs Director di Microsoft Italia, Andrea Paliani, Partner e Alliances & Ecosystems Leader di Europe West (EY), Filipe Teixeira, CIO di illimity e Paolo Zanzi, Head of Quality, Organization and Innovation di Bayer. Infine, cinque giovani di YAS hanno portato cinque proposte concrete sulle quali si sono confrontati con i partecipanti del workshop. Prima delle conclusioni del CFO di Microsoft Italia, Larisa Iakovleva , la visita al Technology Center della Microsoft House. Un dibattito per esplorare l’impatto attuale e futuro dell’IA sul mondo del lavoro, le competenze necessarie che stanno emergendo, le considerazioni etiche e il ruolo fondamentale del policy making nel plasmare un futuro in cui l’IA contribuisca positivamente agli obiettivi della società. Read the full article

[m2024a]

https://notizieoggi2023.blogspot.com/2024/02/la-famiglia-e-gli-amici-di-chiara.html La famiglia e gli amici di Chiara Ferragni sono finiti nel mirino degli hater Un tempo re Mida del web e della moda, oggi Chiara Ferragni sembra non riuscire a liberarsi dalla reputazione che la insegue da metà dicembre quando è scoppiato il Pandoro gate, caso di cattiva gestione social poi trasformatosi in un'indagine per truffa aggravata che ha coinvolto l'imprenditrice, il suo manager Fabio Maria D'Amato e le sue aziende oltre che la Balocco. A due mesi da quella bufera, le nuvole nere sopra la carriera e la vita privata di Ferragni non sembrano volersi dissipare. E mentre le voci di crisi col marito Fedez, che attualmente è a Miami da solo per lavoro, si fanno sempre più insistenti, il suo lavoro sui social sembra essersi congelato su neutrali fit-check, scatti e storie con i suoi bambini e fughe in montagna (che poi diventano casi studio anche quelli: ma questa è un'altra storia che vi abbiamo raccontato qui). In questo tempo di riflessione (si spera) e attesa Ferragni sta trascorrendo molto tempo con i suoi bambini Leone e Vittoria e con la sua famiglia: la madre Marina di Guardo, oltre ad aiutarla con i figli, è da sempre una figura di riferimento per Chiara e le sue sorelle Valentina e Francesca. Proprio in virtù di questa vicinanza e della solidarietà che i parenti e gli amici di Ferragni le hanno mostrato in queste settimane difficili, ecco che gli haters dell'imprenditrice hanno deciso di rivolgere le loro accuse, recriminazioni e insulti anche a Francesca, Valentina, Veronica Ferraro, una delle migliori amiche di Ferragni e alla madre. A fomentare il livore degli utenti, anche quelli motivati da intenzioni meno bellicose, è il fatto che Chiara, sua madre e tutte le persone che le sono rimasti vicini hanno limitato, se non addirittura bloccato i commenti sotto ai loro contenuti. Tutta la famiglia Ferragni è impegnata nella certosina cancellazione dei messaggi offensivi o denigratori, tanto che oggi, sotto alle foto degli ultimi giorni, si leggono solo complimenti e parole d'affetto. Come ha detto al Messaggero Roberto Esposito, Ceo della società di strategia e comunicazione digitale DeRev, «chiunque venga accostato al bersaglio è sotto tiro. Una contaminazione potenziata dal fatto che i commenti sono ancora limitati sotto al profilo di Chiara Ferragni». Insomma, il fatto che l'imprenditrice digitale stia tentando di proteggere la sua reputazione è comprensibile e così la volontà di cancellare minacce e insulti gravi sotto i suoi post lo è. L'hating online in nessun caso dovrebbe essere la risposta, neanche se la questione infervora, neppure se è di interesse comune o ha una risonanza etica e legale importante come quella che ha coinvolto Ferragni. Ma la strategia di Chiara, che sta apparentemente continuando la sua vita col sorriso - questo, almeno, è quello che ci ha mostrato in queste settimane - almeno da un punto di vista social non sta funzionando: anche se non promuove più nulla da mesi, le adv sembrano congelate e gli unici contenuti rimasti sui suoi profili sembrano essere quelli più "safe" e personali, cancellare i commenti negativi ma costruttivi non sta facendo altro che creare accanimento. Non solo contro di lei, ma anche contro chi ha deciso, per affetto, di rimanere dalla sua parte.

[lamilanomagazine]

Crotone: torna a nuova vita una delle strutture sportive più amate, la piscina CONI.

Crotone: torna a nuova vita una delle strutture sportive più amate, la piscina CONI. “Una giornata storica per Crotone, perché attraverso la riqualificazione della piscina CONI, una delle strutture sportive più amate da crotonesi, si restituisce alla comunità un bene che “racconta” della storia non solo sportiva della città” Lo ha detto il sindaco Voce nel corso della conferenza stampa che si è tenuta ieri mattina nella Sala Consiliare in occasione della presentazione del progetto di riqualificazione della piscina CONI ubicata sul lungomare cittadino. Conferenza alla quale con il sindaco hanno partecipato l’assessore allo Sport ed Impiantistica Sportiva Luca Bossi, la dottoressa Stefania Argenti Soprintendente Archeologica, Belle Arti e Paesaggio per le province di Crotone e Catanzaro, Francesca Pellegrino delegata provinciale CONI, la dirigente comunale Clara Caroli e il team dei progettisti capitanato dall’architetto Domenico Esposito di “Settanta7” E’ stato l’assessore Bossi che ha tracciato il percorso che ha portato al risultato di ieri. Dopo l’affermazione ottenuta dal Comune di Crotone nel prestigioso bando della Presidenza del Consiglio “Italia City Branding 2020” con la proposta progettuale “Kroton – Rinnov@azione e Sport” con il quale l’Ente ha ottenuto un finanziamento per interventi su strutture cittadine con l’obiettivo di incrementare l’attrattività del territorio mediante la promozione congiunta di offerta culturale e sportiva si è passati alla fase esecutiva della progettazione. Si è proceduto all’indizione della gara per l’affidamento dei servizi di architettura e ingegneria per la progettazione definitiva, esecutiva. Nel contempo è stato sottoscritto con la Capitaneria di Porto il documento che formalmente ha consegnato al Comune di Crotone l’area demaniale marittima di mq 4.781 dove attualmente sorge la struttura al fine di consentirne la riqualificazione, che vedrà l’attuazione grazie ai fondi del CIS Calabria per 6,2 milioni di euro, di cui l’ente è risultato beneficiario grazie al lavoro svolto dalla struttura preposta ai programmi complessi. “È un intervento che porta dietro con sé le virtù del pragmatismo e della concretezza, un modo di fare politica che non lascia spazio alle false promesse, ma orientata a fornire soluzioni e a dare risposte alla comunità. Una struttura identitaria che tornerà a splendere, progetto nato con l’amministrazione Voce e pensato per la comunità, con un’attenzione particolare alla possibilità di svolgere campionati pallanuoto grazie alla vasca da 33 metri. Siamo già concentrati per le prossime fasi, con l’obiettivo di pubblicare la gara per l’esecuzione lavori entro il mese di Novembre” ha dichiarato l’assessore Bossi. Poi è arrivato il momento di rivelare come i crotonesi e non solo potranno “rivivere” la piscina Coni. Una struttura innovativa che con gli opportuni aggiornamenti tecnici e funzionali all’utilizzo salvaguarda la memoria storica di un luogo caro ai cittadini, fruibile ai cittadini anche nei mesi invernali con una copertura a vetrate apribile, che darà continuità visiva tra la zona pedonale e l’arenile e ad elevata efficienza energetica. Sarà inoltre presente un'area Museal-Bar e una piazza antistante l'arenile per godere dell'impareggiabile contesto naturalistico. "Siamo entusiasti di presentare la nuova piscina comunale di Crotone, un progetto a firma Settanta7 che incarna l'essenza dell'impatto positivo che noi e l'amministrazione comunale vogliamo lasciare alle cittadine e ai cittadini" sostiene Domenico Esposito, Product Owner di Settanta7, "questo progetto ha le carte in regola e l'ambizione per trasformarsi in uno dei luoghi più importanti della Città. La piscina non è solo un edificio, ma un tributo alla grandiosa storia del nuoto e della pallanuoto a Crotone. Promettiamo che questa struttura sarà un'icona pop, portando nuova vita e vitalità a questa città storica e importante nel mondo degli sport acquatici. Siamo incredibilmente orgogliosi di contribuire a questo progetto dall'enorme valore per Crotone e ringraziamo l'Amministrazione per la grande sinergia venutasi a creare".... #notizie #news #breakingnews #cronaca #politica #eventi #sport #moda Read the full article

[micro961]

Artika - Non fila la fila

Il nuovo brano della cantautrice campana con l’etichetta milanese Da Vinci Label

Una riflessione sul tempo perso dentro le innumerevoli file di ogni giorno. Il nuovo inedito di Artika - al secolo Francesca De Rosa - si intitola

“Non fila la fila” che rinnova il legame con l’etichetta Da Vinci Label. Un nuovo brano per l’artista campana il cui testo vede la collaborazione di suo marito Luigi Aulito e la produzione firmata dal musicista e produttore Alessandro Presti noto componente dei Follya presso i Manta Rei Studio. Per la cura della parte vocale, Artika da sempre si affida al suo mentore e vocal coach Renato Esposito, anche lui vanta numerose collaborazioni ed esibizioni con importanti artisti italiani ed internazionali.

«Ci avete mai fatto caso a tutte quelle situazioni in cui “perdiamo” tempo? In fila alle poste, al bar, in cassa al supermercato, al bagno nei ristoranti, al casello, al pronto soccorso, al telefono in attesa, nel traffico… L’elenco è potenzialmente infinito. È un dato di fatto che le code sono parte integrante della nostra vita di tutti i giorni. Il comportamento che mostriamo quando siamo in fila, assume diverse sfumature: c’è chi (si contano sulle dita) attende tranquillamente il proprio turno, c’è chi comincia a inveire verso gli impiegati dello sportello e c’è chi, avendone la possibilità, cambia la sua fila d’attesa o chi, il più delle volte, cerca furbescamente incivili e stucchevoli scorciatoie. Dover aspettare non è solo un disagio della singola persona: il tempo che la popolazione di una nazione perde aspettando in coda è uno dei principali fattori sia nella qualità della vita sia nell’efficienza dell’economia di un Paese». Artika

Etichetta: Da Vinci Label

Artika, nome artistico di Francesca De Rosa, nasce a Battipaglia nell’89. Sin dalla tenera studia canto e danza. Le sue doti vocali, per timbrica, estensione e duttilità, le permettono di sperimentare con vari generi musicali come jazz, soul, rhythm and blues, leggera, pop e rock. Ed è proprio per l’energia e la grinta del rock, supportata anche da una fortissima presenza scenica nelle sue esibizioni live, che la sua pagina artistica supera i 60.000 fans. Nel Marzo 2015 pubblica on line e su tutti i canali web il suo primo singolo e video dal titolo “Non ci sarò” con cui ottiene vittorie in vari contests radiofonici che le permettono di andare in rotazione su diverse radio italiane. Nel mese di Luglio dello stesso anno vince il premio “Top Chart” al contest radiofonico Sonic Factory 2015. Grazie agli ottimi risultati ottenuti nel brevissimo tempo, con la produzione ApM Progetto Musica iniziano a prospettarsi anche esperienze internazionali importanti, infatti in quel mese di Agosto riesce ad entrare tra le dodici nazioni finaliste del prestigioso Pirogovsky Rassvet 2015, festival internazionale tenutosi a Mosca. In un’atmosfera surreale e con una cornice di diecimila spettatori canta in lingua russa ed italiana, la sua interpretazione del brano “Kukushka” le permette di aggiudicarsi il premio di “artista più votata dal pubblico”. A Settembre 2015 pubblica un secondo inedito dal titolo “Scappo via”. Dopo la partecipazione alle selezioni di Sanremo di quell’anno ed al 22° Festival di Avezzano 2016, il 5 Maggio 2016 inizia la promozione nazionale ed internazionale di un nuovo inedito dal titolo “Fantastico” che porta ad ottenere più di 260.000 visualizzazioni del videoclip su You Tube, cinque settimane di permanenza in Classifica Italiana Indie (MEI), inoltre, dalla prima settimana di Giugno 2016, entra in Classifica Europea Indie ed ottiene la prima posizione che conferma per quattro settimane (a cui si aggiungono anche cinque settimane al secondo posto e 15 settimane in Top Ten). A Dicembre risulta al sesto posto assoluto nella Classifica Europea Indie (EIMC STATS). Il 2017 si apre con la pubblicazione del singolo “Solo un nome” anche questo ottimamente accolto dal popolo della rete e dalle classifiche indipendenti. La pandemia ferma un po’ tutti ma a fine 2021 torna in scena con la pubblicazione del nuovo inedito “Rosso indelebile” che tratta della violenza di genere. Il 2023 porta con sé l'inizio di una proficua collaborazione con l’etichetta milanese Da Vinci Label che pubblica ad aprile “Catartika”, a luglio il singolo “Disordinata” ed ora il nuovo brano dal titolo “Non fila la fila”.

CONTATTI E SOCIAL

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UClJINUz9d8RrsPDb7MQICYQ https://open.spotify.com/artist/0nhv8t4yAqnGrqQkeMyVh6?si=qkuTRtS0SnCH4N80hJ7T4Q https://www.facebook.com/ArtikaDrs89/ https://www.instagram.com/artika.drs https://twitter.com/artika.drs

[personal-reporter]

Ischia Film and Music Fest 2023

Sarà Double Soul di Valerio Esposito ad aprire ufficialmente la 21esima edizione dell’ Ischia Global Film and Music Fest,  in programma sull’Isola Verde dal 9 al 16 luglio. Il film , che sarà  proiettato in anteprima mondiale la sera del 9 luglio, è l’ultimo lavoro dell’attore Julian Sands, scomparso in un’escursione sulle montagne di San Gabriel fuori Los Angeles, in California, il 13 gennaio, con le gemelle Angela e Marianna Fontana accanto ai premi Oscar F. Murray Abraham e Danny Glover e a Paz Vega, Francesca Tizzano e Marco Bocci, co-prodotta da Camaleo e Marvel (Dubai) ed uscirà nelle sale italiane giovedì 13 luglio con Plaion Distribution.  Ad annunciare la notizia è stato il leggendario produttore Tony Renis, presidente onorario dell’Accademia Internazionale Arte Ischia che promuove il festival sin dal 2003 con il sostegno della D.G. cinema del MiC e della Regione Campania. Senza ombra di dubbio la kermesse estiva di Ischia è la più attesa al mondo, come punta tra il festival del cinema di Cannes e la mostra cinematografica di Venezia e, nel corso degli anni, ha goduto della partecipazione di tantissimi big del panorama cinematografico e musicale sia in campo artistico che in quello d’impresa. L’Ischia Global Fest, ideato da Pascal Vicedomini e realizzato con Giancarlo Carriero, Marina Cicogna e Franco Nero, rappresenta un grande evento nel panorama dell’international showbiz che dà opportunità concrete i  giovani artisti di avere un escalation per la loro professione, come dimostrano i 1400 autori che hanno chiesto di parteciparvi attraverso la piattaforma filmfreeway.com, me ma si pone anche l’obiettivo di premiare gli astri nascenti del settore. In 21 anni di vita l’ Ischia Global Film & Music Festival è riuscito nell’intento  di riportare l’isola ai fasti degli anni Sessante, reinserendola all’interno della geografia del jet set internazionale, diventando un’occasione di  incontro per addetti ai lavori, cinefili  e pubblico, dove sono venuti nomi come Dennis Hopper, Andrew Garfield, Vanessa Redgrave, Selena Gomez,Francis Ford Coppola, Giuseppe Tornatore, Helen Mirren , Naomi Watts, Samuel L. Jackson, Baz Lurhmann, Alicia Vikander, Oliver Stone, Quincy Jones, Sting, Sheryl Crow e Bob Geldolf. Tra le presenze italiane di Ischia Global Fest ci sono state personalità cha vanno da Andrea Bocelli a Matteo Garrone, da Dante Ferretti a Zucchero, da Paolo Virzì a Pupi Avati,  fino a Giancarlo Giannini, Valeria Golino, Dario Argento, Valeria Bruni Tedeschi, Riccardo Scamarcio e Micaela Ramazzotti. Ci sono nomi prestigiosi anche tra i membri onorari del board, come Christoph Waltz, Vanessa Hudgens, Julio Iglesias, Rob Reiner, Enrico Vanzina, Danny De Vito, Stanley Tucci, Carlo Verdone, Gino Paoli, Michele e Violante Placido, Massimo Ranieri, Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu, Monica Bellucci, Alfonso Cuaron, Michael Fassbender, Valeria Golino, Jean Paul Gaultier, Valentino e Tom Hilfiger. Read the full article