#giovanni hidalgo

[krispyweiss]

Quarter Notes: Blurbs & Briefs from Sound Bites

- In this edition: Bob Dylan; Mickey Hart; Leonard Cohen; & Faces

DYLAN RELEASES COMPILATION TO AVOID PUBLIC DOMAIN: Bob Dylan quietly released a Europe-only compilation titled 50th Anniversary Collection 1973 to prevent the recordings from entering the public domain.

The 28-song set was recorded during the sessions that produced Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid, per Forbes magazine, which reported on the LP being released “in very limited quantities.”

MEET THE MIRACLES: Mickey Hart will perform under the Mickey and the Miracles banner at the Dead Ahead festival in Mexico.

Presumably a one-off, the group features percussionists Giovanni Hidalgo and Karl Perazzo; guitarist Derek Trucks and bassist Isaac Eady of the Tedeschi Trucks Band; former Dead & Company drummer Jay Lane; and Hart on “cosmic sounds,” per a statement.

Dead Ahead is slated for Jan. 12-15, 2024.

NATIONAL SYMPHONY TO HONOR LEONARD COHEN: Madison Cunningham, Ben Folds, Bill Frisell, Don Henley, J.D. Souther and Susan Tedeschi and her husband, the aforementioned Trucks, are among the musicians scheduled to join the National Symphony Orchestra for Here It Is: A Tribute to Leonard Cohen.

The show is scheduled for April 26, 2024, at the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C.

FACES THE MUSIC: Faces will be the subject of a 2024 reissue campaign featuring “a wealth” of previously unreleased material, Mojo magazine reports.

Per the band’s archivist: “When I say there’s a wealth of unreleased material – there’s a wealth of unreleased material … there’s rehearsals, outtakes, unreleased songs, session multitracks, you name it.”

12/21/23

[zestysthoughts]

Spanish Joint - D'Angelo

[boricuacherry-blog]

This whole album makes me dance.

[crownedinmarigolds]

Lil crop of the piece I did for @vampemoqueen's WoD HalloZine! Noa doing some fun ritual work to keep her mind sharp! <3 Thank you for letting me participate and I can't wait to see everyone's pieces!

[thesixthplaneteer]

Here is my entry for the Masquerade Breach zine!! I have been hitting that word limit like a brick wall for the past month, and I am too excited to keep it to myself! My piece is titled Hell-O-Ween! A Masquerade Breach Story because we like cheesy horror in this house. Thank you for reading!

It’s the late 1980s in Las Vegas, Nythanel, and Noa are attending a Halloween party being put on by Don Jacob Rothstein. Held in a mansion in the desert far away from the city, so the more illicit activities don't fall under unwanted scrutiny, and only those in the know are supposed to be there. One person slipped past security, an ancient enemy of the Giovanni whose true motives are unknown, but their eyes are set on Noa tonight. What can a neonate necromancer and waterblooded sorcerer do when things really start to go bump in the night?

The green makeup of his Audrey Two costume hid the redness but Nythanel still felt the warmth of embarrassment and anger on his face. Fighting back tears he side stepped between costumed guests, tray toting servers, and did his best to fight the urge to bull them over as he went back to the ballroom. Don Jacob Rothstein's Halloween party was in full swing. The dance floor was lively, the bar was packed, and the live band seemed like they could go all night long.

He wanted to make his problem everyone else’s problem but held onto his senses, making a scene at the head of Clan Giovanni’s party wouldn’t make his night better. Noa’s bright red hooded dress and silver devil mask were easy to spot, but seeing her didn’t bring the ease to his mind he wanted. A tall figure in an elaborate red Venetian masquerade costume with a matching laughing mask loomed over her, holding her wrist.

The party-goers near them shuffled away and gawked. No doubt they thought some crass couple brought their backroom fun to the front. A wall of bodies formed to watch, but over their shoulders Nyth could see another masked person grab Noa from behind. Nythanel shoved over a woman in a peacock dress and jammed his elbows into the sides of two clowns to get through.

Noa struggled to get out of their grasp, but Red Mask jerked her arm the other direction. The snap was audible over the music, a pained scream erupted from Noa, a jagged peak shot up from under the sleeve of her dress. The crowd around them gasped, some retched, some clapped for what they thought was some Halloween entertainment, some quickly fled, others watched on unsure what to make of the display.

Nythanel burst free of the crowd and charged them, seeing that the second assailant's costume was also Venetian - though far less elaborate and the color beige. Red Mask noticed his approach and abandoned Noa with a leap backward as Nythanel slammed into the tussle, bringing them all down to the floor hard. Noa’s silver mask clattered to the ground while Beige’s mask was knocked askew but stayed on their face. The thin fabric of their costume tore as Nythanel gathered a fistful of it and pulled, the other fist delivering a hard blow to the back of their head, forcing them to surrender Noa in order to defend themselves.

The surrounding crowd was now comprised mostly of individuals thinking this was simply a show for the party. Some clapped, some cheered for who they picked as their favorite, while a few pulled their partners away.

Moving with trained agility, Nythanel threw his leg over Beige, pushing them onto their back, gaining control of the situation. Flesh exposed itself, the torn collar of the costume revealing their throat. Nythanel gazed at the sight for a moment. He had no Beast. There was no voice demanding he feed, no inner monster begging to kill. This desire was all his. He opened wide and lurched forward, his fangs breaking skin. Any scream to come was cut short by the crushing of their windpipe beneath teeth. Fresh warm blood cascaded into his mouth. Mortal, musky, the sting of alcohol, and a wine-like sweet finish. Sanguine he thought to himself as it empowered his own weak vitae.

Nythanel didn’t see where the sawed-off shotgun came from, nor notice how Beige was able to pull the concealed weapon, he only heard the deafening bang that brought him back to reality. A shower of blood and bone poured from a bystander’s face. Screams of terror erupted from the crowd, they slammed into each other in their mad scramble, going toward the back of the manor to get away from the no longer entertaining brawl. The band abruptly stopped, the gunshot ending the revelry. Not wanting to risk Noa or himself being the target of the next round he twisted and wrenched, flesh and inner tissue tore until he ripped free the section of throat seized by his vicious teeth.

More yells of fearful confusion came from the guests, the handful of them brave or drunk enough to think they could stop a gunman turned and ran as Nythanel spit the chunk of meat onto the floor. Suddenly, he felt pressure build in his ear drums, his heart became heavy with dread despite the flood of passion from the blood. He'd felt this before, when Noa had shown off her necromantic powers in their rare moments of being able to be alone together since arriving in Las Vegas. Nythanel had thought he’d become accustomed to it, or at least shouldn’t be caught off guard by it. Still it numbed the hot anger and hatred he felt. A curtain of wispy, incorporeal figures began to fall from the ceiling. They manifested into the material world like shadows cast into the air itself as they drank in the light, only allowing a dim glow to illuminate the room. Recognizably human, yet completely otherworldly. One such shadow fell over the victim of the beige thug’s gunshot. The body began to twitch and jerk, a sickening gurgle came out of its throat as the air pushed out of its lungs. Nythanel reeled back from the corpse shambling back to its feet, and turned to see Red Mask holding a black stone.

Noa moved to stand, and for a moment she was awestruck at the blatant display of Oblivion's power. Her already dark eyes turned black like a starless night. She wiped her palm across Nythanel’s chin, wetting her hand with the blood of his victim. Willing forth her vitae through the protruding wound in her arm, she let it drip down and mix with the cooling blood before taking hold of the locket around her neck. The air around her became humid and cold. A shiver went through Nythanel as he felt an icy touch trace his spine. The rose on his lapel wilted, and the few mortals that tried running past them collapsed, their eyes went dull, skin turned pale. Sapped of life. She waved her hand out in front of her and took measured steps forward, like a priest performing a sanctifying prayer, and the wispy shadows began to retreat.

The sound of wet choking reminded Nyth of the reanimated corpse, and as his head turned back, he saw it rush past him. His body at first couldn't move as a deep and primal terror seized him. It was walking death, but not his kind of death. True death, the kind even the undead feared. He didn't want to go near that thing, but as it closed the distance between itself and Noa, he knew he had to act or he would lose her. Grabbing hold of his dying lapel rose, he squeezed hard along its thorny stem to draw blood, calling upon the sanguine power within him. He mumbled the incantation and the rose revived in his hand, more vibrant than ever.

Nythanel willed the rejuvenated plant to grow, attempting to whip it towards the corpse to stop it in its tracks. With perhaps more luck than skill, the branch wrapped around the creature's throat, barbs digging into dead flesh. Nyth pulled hard, managing to stop it mere inches from Noa, yet the body remained upright as it struggled to fulfill its goal of reaching her.

Noa didn’t waver at all, either completely confident Nythanel would help her, or far too focused on taking control of the descending wraiths.The room was a thunderous cacophony of horrified cries and screams of dismay, the shattering of glass on the ground, the panicked stampeding of a mob with no direction to go in. Those who had witnessed Nythanel's attack and the arisen corpse tried to run away, but those who hadn't seen pushed back to try and reach the front exit. Spirits accosted various bystanders, forcing themselves into unwilling bodies to inflict more fear onto those surrounding them. Poltergeists scattered plates and knocked over chairs, some managing to even drop a large chandelier on top of the crowd. In the confusion, they didn't care who was trampled. The guests desperately lashed out at anything impeding their own escapes. Jewelry, costume accessories, blood, and bodies all dropped to the floor and were stomped on without a second thought. The wraiths were erratic, but Noa fought, countering the incantations of Red Mask as the shadows ebbed and flowed around them like a turbulent ocean. To an unknowing observer, the two appeared to be simply standing in place and muttering strangely, but Nythanel knew they both were manipulating the thin fabric separating the land of death from the land of the living.

The rose Nythanel turned into a weapon was also being sapped of its life and desperately it drank from him to stay alive. He shifted his weight and pulled as hard as he could to try and bring the corpse to the ground. There was little hope in killing something that was already dead. He forced his will onto the rose once more, allowing it to drink even more of his vitae. It expanded rapidly in response, sprouting more branches that ensnared the body and sawed into its skin with mutated spikes. Despite it being controlled by a spirit, it was still limited to the strength of the muscles it still possessed, or so Noa had previously explained. The writhing and wriggling vines continued to tear, severing the veins and nerves and rendering the wretched thing immobile for good.

His vision started to blur, his head swimming as his vitae was near exhausted. The rose had taken root in his arm and now it threatened to drink him dry. With nearly all he had left, he willed the passing of seasons on the flower, advancing its life cycle to the point it began to wither and decay until it too became immobile and dead.

The two necromancers were still locked in their strange duel, fighting for control of the spirit current that flooded the manor. Nythanel knew he had to help Noa, something better than running headfirst into a death dealer but his options were limited. His eyes went to the floor for answers, and sure enough there was: shotgun. Hurriedly he picked it up and aimed, hoping it had the promised second shot, though the room spun in his hungry near-delirium. With a squeeze of the trigger the weapon thundered, sending its payload into the shoulder of the Red Mask. Crimson exploded from their wound as they stumbled back, their concentration breaking enough for Noa to gain the upper hand. Her good arm raised higher, and the undulating ceiling seemed to calm as the wraiths obeyed her. The shadow over the ballroom lifted slowly as she brought them to heel.

The Red Mask despite all of the trouble and their fresh injury seemed to have accepted their defeat. With only a glance to Noa and a dramatic throw of their cape, a cold silence surrounded them as they simply walked away. Despite the chaos of the still frightened crowd, they were swallowed within the mob as if they had not even been there. Nythanel at first made a move to follow, but stopped himself as Noa began to buckle. Good riddance, he thought sheepishly as he turned to her, relieved the death dealer decided to just leave. She was more important to him, anyway.

As the full brightness of the lights returned and the pressure lifted from his ears, the distinct sound of Italian leather stomped across the floor towards them from behind. A ham-handed man took hold of his collar and jerked him into the air, the shotgun crashing loudly onto the marble.

"You're gonna wish you were fuckin' dead when I'm through with you, Warlock." Growled Adolfo Puttanesca, right hand of the Don.

[dance-world]

Giovanni Tombacco, Iacopo Arregui, Luca Afflitto, Mikhael Kinley-Safronoff, Wictor Hugo, Shale Wagman, and Alvaro Prieto Hidalgo

[projazznet]

Eddie Palmieri – Listen Here! 

Listen Here! is an album by Eddie Palmieri. In 2006, the album won Palmieri the Grammy Award for Best Latin Jazz Album.

Eddie Palmieri – piano Nicholas Payton, Brian Lynch – trumpet Conrad Herwig, Doug Beavers – trombone Donald Harrison, Ivan Renta – alto saxophone Michael Brecker, David Sanchez – tenor saxophone John Scofield – guitar Regina Carter – violin John Benítez, Christian McBride – bass Horacio “El Negro” Hernández – drums Giovanni Hidalgo – percussion

[kentuckycaverats]

The envelope is baby-pink, the finish on the material like satin. There is the unmistakable scent of roses and a much more subtle smell of chemical wafting from it. Inside is Bellamy's type bingo card reprinted on fine card stock, the shade of the paper complete with a pinkish hue. Various boxes and small responses are written in clean fountain ink, clearly this person kept a stationary kit at their desk and has been practicing using that pen. There is a small photo of a young woman staring at the camera with dark eyes, and a short letter attached, written in very pristine handwriting: "This game is infectious, I see a lot of local Kindred are participating in 'type bingo.' An acquaintance of mine shared your card with me and I really like what you value. If it's not too forward, I've attached mine as well. I would not mind meeting you sometime if you felt the same." Signed below in a slightly larger hand, Noa Vincenza Rosario Giovanni-Hidalgo.

bellamy reads over the letter for the fifth time, bringing the scented envelope to his nose yet again. I would not mind meeting you sometime if you felt the same, she'd written.

when chess strong-armed him into filling out this bingo card thing he hadn't really thought anything but mild amusement would come of it; yet here he is, looking at a near-perfect sheet and a photo of probably the most drop-dead gorgeous woman he's ever seen, and all of it dripping with pink and the smell of roses. if his heart still beat it would be leaping from his chest right now.

trying to play it cool, as if she might somehow sense his enthusiasm through bingo card alone, he scans over her unmarked sheet as well, and: holy shit. nearly a full sweep there too. he can practically hear the nuclear-grade eyeroll chess will give him for even entertaining the idea of meeting up with a giovanni, but hey, the cards speak for themselves--there might be real potential for something here.

Ms. Giovanni-Hidalgo,

It was a delight to receive your letter. If the cards are any indication, it sounds like maybe I've been waiting to meet you for a long while. I'd be grateful for a chance to steal an evening of your time, if you're so inclined.

Bellamy Hollis, he/they

P.S. Love the perfume. What color do you like your roses?

Enclosed is Noa's own bingo card, filled.

[problemsynth]

The envelope Solaire receives is light pink, the material like satin, and the type card inside is printed on fine card stock. The squares are highlighted in what may be an old fountain pen. Clearly this person is into stationary. There are no bingos it looks like, but there is a small little note also placed inside the card. "My best friend showed me that you filled out one of these as well, they're very fun! You're very lovely, I hope you have a wonderful evening. - Noa Vincenza Rosario Hidalgo Giovanni"

Her returning letter is scrawled in cutesy loopy letters on the back of small print for her band Midnight Solstice. Accompanying it is Polaroid of her blowing the camera a kiss.

"Aw, aren't you just the sweetest thing? I think I will, Noa. You have a lovely evening too. - xox Sol <3"

[kccproductions]

Manuel Orza in Collins Plaza May 11 FREE!

The Collins Park Neighborhood Association and The City of Miami Beach Present: The Liberty Plaza Jazz Series!

Manuel Orza finished his studies in Amadeo Roldan Conservatory (Havana) in 1989. He has played with Terry Bozzio, Jose Feliciano, Simon Stockhausen, Horacio Hernandez, Michael Riessler, Robby Ameen, Gloval Vicion, Julio Barreto, Ravi Coltrane, Roy Hargrove, Arturo Sandoval, Michel Portal, Markus Stockhausen, Alfredo de la Fe, "New York All Stars", Mercado Negro,Jimmy Bosch, Dave Valentin, El Canario, Giovanni Hidalgo, Robert Vilera, Issac Delgado, Guajiro Miraval, Ayme Nuviola, Amaury Gutierrez, Cheo Feliciano, Celia Cruz, Tito Nieves, Rey de la Paz, Ray Sepulveda, Andy Montanez, Mercado Negro , Calixto Oviedo, Francisco (Pancho)Cespedes, and many others.

The concert is FREE, May 11, from 5-7 PM in Liberty Plaza, 2200 Liberty Ave., Miami Beach.

Produced by Global Arts Project--More info contact Kimberly Chmura 305-332-2623

[crownedinmarigolds]

Vamp-orwave wanted to see Noa surrounded by dark spirits and other things of the like while in her lil outfits... and unfortunately it's late so I didn't go all out on the background figures but I hope it gets the point across as a fun sketch!! At funerals we wear pink. <3

[thesixthplaneteer]

The Seed of the Serpent

The Seed of the Serpent is a write up in mine and @crownedinmarigolds VTM canon. It features Noa, Nythanel, and other OCs we have! If you would like a peek at some of what has lead up to this event, click here for a write up by the lovely Crownedinmarigolds. Nythanel has been near fatally wounded and seemingly is unable to recover due to being Duskborn, Thinblood. Noa seeing no other option tries to reconnect with her family much to the dismay of her brother Joaquin. As she waits and hopes for Nythanel to recover she finds herself having a much more difficult time handling tasks and those around her. Hitting a breaking point she decides she needs him back, and needs him back now. Her own studies and reading over Nythanel's alchemical theories leads her to seeking the help of the local Followers of Set. The dawn of the twenty first century is near and their fate unclear.

The descent into the basement was made difficult by the narrow stairs. Julian nearly stumbled several times while carrying Nythanel, causing Noa's dead heart to drop every time. Her grip on the black leather briefcase she carried was so tight her nails tore into the leather. She kept herself composed but with every stumble she was forced to imagine Nythanel’s body becoming more broken, or worse. All this was exacerbated by Joaquin’s teasing of Julian and acting like he was going to drop the wheelchair. She was sure he would have pushed them if she wasn’t  in front of the group. It felt like the stairs went on impossibly long before the final step to level ground. The end of their descent brought relief for one anxiety, only to give rise to another. They were now in the temple of the Followers of Set.

At the base of the stairs she quickly made sure her sleek, form-fitting dress was straightened out. It was far enough outside what she normally wore that it added to her discomfort, but at least it was pink. Julian followed, always looking out for the unspoken instruction, placing Nythanel in the wheelchair before checking his collar and brushing down his coat. Joaquin watched them fuss over themselves and chuckled at Noa as she straightened Nythanel’s outfit. Noa had Julian and Nythanel dressed in coats and pants that were freshly pressed and shoes that were shined. They were here on business and she aimed for them to be dressed appropriately. Joaquin of course rebelled against “dressing nice for some blood sucker” and sported a brown leather jacket, t-shirt and jeans. She wanted to remind him at that moment that she too was a blood sucker, but it wouldn’t have done anything but devolve into an argument that would lead to only more frustration and more rebellion. If he wasn’t going to be well dressed, she at least needed him well behaved.

Noa stood up straight and took in the first breath since they started down the stairs. “I need both of you to remain quiet. Look no one in the eyes, and look at nothing longingly.” 

“Yes ma’am.” Julian dutifully answered between heavy breaths, taking a hold of the push handles on Nythanel’s wheelchair. Even with all his natural strength added to the power given to him from Noa’s vitae, he was still out of breath from carrying Nythanel down the steep stairs.  

Joaquin let out a snort. “Yeah, sure.” 

“I’m serious, Joaquin.” Noa said sternly. 

Joaquin balked but knew she was right. He should keep his trap shut, for now. Julian side eyed him, a faint air of smugness for knowing his place. 

“You wanna be in a wheelchair too, jackass?” Joaquin turned toward Julian with his fists balled tightly.  

“I said be silent!” Noa’s voice rose just slightly, her tone becoming harsh.  

At that moment she sounded like their father. Far too much like their father for Joaquin’s liking. Far too damn much. But unlike with their father, he obeyed and went silent. 

“Julian, stop goading him and pay attention to what you are supposed to be doing.” Noa forced herself to take a deep breath to calm her nerves. 

It was bad enough she had to try talking to the Followers of Set without Nythanel being able to assist, but these two seemed like they wanted to sabotage it. The Beast inside her screamed at her to rid herself of these idiots. Drink them dry! It yelled at her. You want to be treated seriously? Then go in with a full stomach!  Another deep breath calmed the Beast, a meditative practice when one doesn't need to breathe. It’s not been as effective in recent nights.  

“Let’s go.” She commanded and started down the long cement walled hall. 

She walked alongside Nythanel, occasionally brushing her hand against his shoulder. A nervous reassurance that he was still there. Joaquin strolled right behind Noa despite his and Jullian's frames taking up the width of the hallway. The hallway was long, unnecessarily so. It seemed the Setites wanted to give their guests time to decide if they really wanted to be here. The lights were dim and warm like artificial candles. Noa was used to working in dim light but the spacing between the lights made it excessively dark. Even with the low light, Noa could see a golden glint at the end. A door, decorated with large red ankhs along with a golden scrolling line of hieroglyphs. When they finally reached it after what seemed like minutes, Noa steadied herself with a deep breath one last time before giving a single hard knock. As if the person on the other side was simply waiting for the courtesy to be observed, the door immediately came open. 

The full force of the droning industrial techno playing inside beat against their ear drums. Noa and Joaquin seemed least affected, Joaquin’s own ear drums abused by loud club music and gunfire. Noa refused to allow any sign of weakness in her now that they were entering the temple proper. Julian winced at the sudden sound as his grip on the wheel chair loosened, wanting to bring his hands up to cover his ears. Catching himself, he tightened it once more to not displease Noa. A club goer himself years ago but he still wasn’t ready for just how loud it actually was. Nythanel shifted in the wheelchair. His movements were slow and unsteady but it was clear he was uncomfortable with the noise. Noa looked at him, a feeling of pity and sorrow swelling in her but she quelled it, he wouldn't want her to feel that about him. 

The inside of the temple was like a scene in a movie. Stone columns with white cotton sheets hanging between them like sheer dividers. A thin haze of smoke choked the air. Ahead of them through the fabric they could make out silhouettes of people, mingling and entangling together so much that they seemed like a single writhing beast. 

The heady smells of incense, sweat, and more besieged their nostrils. Noa was mostly spared, only needing to breathe when she spoke. But the other three had functional lungs. They drew in the smog and were overcome with the earthy, burnt timber and sweet citrus smell making their heads swim. Joaquin and Julian were no strangers to substance use. This mild high wouldn't be their undoing, but it certainly helped them feel a little more relaxed. A little more okay with the pounding rhythmic music. A little more comfortable in a strange place. Nythanel’s cheeks became rosy as he breathed in the smoke and his muscles relaxed.

A voice somehow pierced the thrum of the music. It was calm, controlled, and clear. 

“Miss Hidalgo.” Spoke a bald man with a serious face. 

He was shorter than Joaquin or Julian by a few inches. He had a strong chin and nose but his face still had a softness to it that, judging by how his suit fit, his body did not have. He was not as opulently dressed as Noa would have expected for a Follower of Set. He had a modest amount of jewelry, just two thin rings and nice cufflinks. His suit was pretty basic, wine color, possibly a high end material. Noa looked at him with a polite smile and faint recognition. She was sure this man was the bouncer in Mexico years ago. It felt strange to be delighted in a familiar face amongst the snake den. Before she could give an answer he spoke again. 

“I am Arham.” He introduced himself with a shallow bow. “If you and your party would follow me. Just this way.” He turned and started walking. He spoke like a trained and experienced concierge.

Noa waved her party on to follow the man. Her anxieties ate away at her. Soon they would find out if they walked into a trap, or if a deal could be struck. Eyes leered from around the pillars and the sheets, hands reached out and grasped for Arham and their group. Voices called out to them, inaudible through the music. Julian would look through the corners of his eyes then force himself to look forward, remembering Noa’s instructions. Joaquin scowled, eyes locked on Arham.

Their guide pulled back a curtain to reveal a pair of plain doors. He opened them to reveal yet another dimly lit hallway. Noa’s anxiety fueled her frustration. She wondered if they were just being toyed with. The only calming sight ahead of them were the large doors at the end of the hall. That had to be their meeting room.

“Just through those doors, Miss Hidalgo.” Arham said as he gestured towards their destination.  

The doors at the end of the hall were ornate like the ones that had led into the temple. Their handles were golden and their surfaces decorated with a mural that seemed to be made of inlaid gemstones. It was a depiction of a crocodile headed man fighting a tiger. A large snake boarded the mural. Noa couldn’t help the sense of awe. The Followers were an ancient clan and their histories and rituals were so shrouded in lies and half truths, seeing just a glimpse of it first hand was exciting in itself. She considered the meaning behind the crocodile man and tiger fighting… until she realized they weren’t actually fighting, but coupling. A shot of embarrassment went through her for not noticing immediately. Not just for herself, but for playing into what she thought was a stereotype of the clan.

Joaquin let out a sharp laugh at the sight of it. “Think they’ll want us to fuck a tiger?” He said, still chuckling to himself. 

Noa cut an angry look at him. It said all that needed to be said and served as a reminder of him needing to be silent. He huffed and looked away, and Noa was thankful for the best outcome of that situation. Refocusing her attention, she took the golden handle and pulled open the door. 

The room looked like a lounge and sitting room. Chairs upholstered in velvet of different colors with golden accents. Cushions and large pillows were in piles on the floor. Works of art hung on the walls and rested on pedestals. On the parts of the walls without hanging art there were grand painted murals. The room was lit with only candles, giving a flickering glow throughout the room but no detail was hidden. Standing near a portrait of a naked woman was another familiar sight for Noa. 

His hair was yellow gold and skin golden-bronze like the scales of a desert snake, he even glinted in the candlelight. He had a strong and muscled build, broad-shouldered and tall. He wore a silk robe that trailed down to the floor. When he turned to greet them, they realized the robe gave him very little in terms of modesty. The open chest revealed the myriad of tattoos that decorated him. The most prominent one a snake that seemed to slither all over him, the head at his throat and posed to strike out. There were also Ankhs, a lotus flower, a stalking tiger peeking from behind the snake’s body, and filling the spaces between were hundreds if not more hieroglyphs. His hawkish nose was well framed by the rest of his handsome features. Full lips, a strong jaw, high cheekbones. He was the most impossibly beautiful man Noa had ever seen, there was no way to confuse him with any other. The irises of his eyes were golden with slit serpent-like pupils. He had a wide and disarming smile.

“Greetings, Miss Hidalgo! Welcome to our temple, I am so excited to have you here with us.” He spoke to Noa as if the others were not in the room. “This is my wife, Parvati.” He gestured to a pile of pillows in the corner of the room. 

At first glance there seemed to be no one, but as Noa’s eyes adjusted further, she saw the Hierophant’s wife. Unmoving, like a waiting predator, was a woman with deep warm skin. She lacked even the attempted modesty garment Harrakhty wore. Her long dark hair draped over her curvy body. Her unblinking gaze intense and seeming to pierce right through them. Her sharp jaw, smooth cheeks, aquiline nose, and full lips made her another image of impossible beauty. The body jewelry she wore framed her large breasts and accentuated the curves of her belly and hips. Lines marked her stomach, implying she may have been a mother in another time. 

The woman stirred and watched as they became aware of her. Julian’s eyes were locked on her. He couldn’t help himself or keep his desire completely at bay.  

Noa stood next to Nythanel with the other two just behind them and led the conversation. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Parvati.” Noa said to the woman then looked back at the Hierophant. “And you of course, Mr. Harrakhty. I really am grateful for this meeting.” Her smile is polite and her tone business-like. 

“Oh of course!” He said as he drew nearer. His lack of underwear was apparent as the fabric of his robe hugged his body. “All out of the goodness of my heart and all that.” He stopped just a few feet away and looked down at Nythanel who stared ahead, seemingly not aware. “Is this our special man?” He said, leaning down to look at Nythanel’s face. 

Nythanel’s head turned slowly and his unbandaged eye met with Harrakhty’s gaze. The glazed over look in Nythanel’s eye gave way to a spark of something deeper inside trying to escape before glazing over again and his posture returned to a neutral state. 

“Oh yes, you're very special aren’t you?” Harrakhty commented as he stood up straight again. 

Parvati’s gaze was focused on Nythanel. She shifted on the pillows, now sitting up from her lounging position. 

“You know Miss Hidalgo. This feels like a very common group for your clan.” He spoke, seemingly refusing to allow any dead air in the conversation, or for her to speak. “Strapping, similar featured bodyguards. The delicate often waifish boss. Someone incapable of caring for themselves.” 

As he spoke Noa reached out and took Nythanel’s hand. She hated how much Harrakhty seemed to be familiar with her clan and just how predictable they were apparently. It was obviously meant to be a display to make them uncomfortable or irritable and unfortunately it was working. She wished more than anything that Nythanel were able to speak and engage Harrakhty in this social dance. But he couldn’t, all because of her. She got them into this mess and she will need to get them out. She felt a fire light in her as she felt Nythanel’s grip tighten on her hand. 

“It’s all very Giovanni.” Harrakhty continued. “So, I must know, which one are you shtupping?” He said with a smirk but his eyes were not on Noa, they were on Joaquin and Julian. 

Joaquin scowled at the question and Julian shuffled uncomfortably, pulling his attention away from Parvati. Idiots she thought to herself. They remained silent like she told them but their expressions and body language were giving Harrakhty all the answers he wanted.   

“Ah!” He said with a self satisfied grin. 

“With all due respect.” Noa said, the same all business voice she greeted him with. “That is not what we are here to discuss, Mr. Harrakhty.”  

“Yes of course!” Harrakhty said with a short laugh. “Apologies, I rarely get to speak with your clan on good terms after that whole, consuming the cappadocians event. My curiosity got the better of me.” As he spoke he sauntered over to the same pile of pillows his wife was sitting on and flopped over onto them, putting his arm around her. She seemed to register his touch and rested her head on his shoulders, but her eyes never left Nythanel. 

The robes Harrakhty wore now hid nothing as he reclined with his legs spread. His antics were obviously upsetting Joaquin as he started to shuffle in place, angry he had to stand here and listen to a vampire. Julian was basically drooling while staring at Parvati once more. Noa recanted to herself how important this meeting was to keep herself calm and push down her anxieties. She had to remind herself she still needed Quino and Julian. 

“I understand, I have my curiosities of your own reclusive clan. However I am here for a specific reason.” Noa took just a moment to take a breath, unfortunately allowing an opening for Harrakhty. 

“Yes well if you could-” Harrakhty’s voice trailed off as his wife's hand ran over his bare chest. 

“My love.” She said in a cold pur. Her intense gaze now upon him. “Let her speak.” 

The air in the room became thick and Noa was afraid they were going to reenact the mural on the door as they stared into each other’s eyes. Harrakhty then looked back at Noa, with the smirk that seemed permanent on his face. 

“Again, apologies. Continue.” 

Noa nodded acknowledgement to his apology then spoke again. “As you can see my Nythanel has been injured. He is Duskborn and unable to heal himself. I can help him. But I need to ask you if you can perform a ritual. I have heard rumors of the Followers of Set being able to remove Kindred hearts without triggering their Final Death.” 

Both pairs of eyes were on her. Their intense stare. Both so predatory it was no wonder they represented themselves as apex predators. Harrakhty rolled his hand to signal Noa to go on. 

“I need you to remove his heart. Safely.” She felt her own heart drop. The worries of everything that needed to go wrong in order to put them in this position of weakness. The spiral of everything that could go wrong from this point coiled around her and squeezed tightly. 

Harrakhty let out a deep chuckle, the welcoming warmth waned and the air around him became sinister. “That is a big ask. Tell me Miss Hidalgo, what does an orphan and an invalid have that can be in comparison to an ancient rite reserved only for our most devout?” 

“Cut the bullshit will you? Get on with the creep show so we can leave.” Joaquin loudly declared. 

Noa quickly shot a scowl at him. She had no idea what he could be thinking or planning but she didn’t want him doing it. She couldn’t tell if he was actually thinking he was being helpful or if he was trying to ruin everything like he always does. Something she found herself wondering a lot lately. Her look cut into him and he became still, scowling back at her. The coiling emotions squeezed tighter on her with embarrassment.

She looked back to Harrakhty. “Could my mortal cohort possibly wait outside?” 

“Arham.” Harrakhty called out.

The door they came in pushed open. The same bald man that led them through the temple. 

“Yes?” He asked.

“Can you give these gentlemen the tour? Don’t have too much fun now.” He said with a smile. 

“Yes sir.” Arham looked expectantly at Joaquin and Julian. 

Julian looked to Noa for instruction and Joaquin sucked in air through his teeth but it was clear she was only going to get more upset with him if he stuck around. 

“Whatever.” Joaquin said with a huff and walked out of the door, brushing against Arham as he left. 

Noa motioned with her hand toward the door and Julian followed. 

With the others gone and the door sealed, Noa felt some sense of relief over her. She hated how much having Joaquin out of the room made her feel more at ease. But he’s proven too many times he was too brash. She rested her hand on Nythanel’s shoulder and with new found confidence spoke to Harrakhty. 

“With the combination of the disciplines I've studied and my beloved’s own studies, we can create new life.” 

Harrakhty allowed a quiet moment, giving Noa a chance to continue before he spoke. 

“We can create a viable womb to support the gestation of an offspring.” Noa said, taking a pause to let it start to sink in. “I can facilitate the bearing and birth of you and your wife's child.” 

Harrakhty still smiled and let out a quiet chuckle,very amused at the impossible fantasy she proposed. Then his smile dropped and he looked at Parvati who was still hanging onto his shoulder. They stared into each other's eyes like they were having a silent conversation. Then he looked back at Noa. 

“You really believe you can do that, don’t you?” There was no more amusement in Harrakhty’s tone or expression. 

“I do.” Noa replied confidently. 

“How?” Harrakhty asked. 

Noa knew she had his full attention now. Few loved the sound of his voice more than him. Single word sentences meant he was focused on something other than himself. “I have all of the details here in this case.” She tapped the briefcase for emphasis. “It will require invasive surgery, and the transplanting of Duskborn reproductive organs into you and your wife. It will require a lot of blood.” 

“Thinblood parts? Oh this is very interesting. Tell me, how will it be my child if I am using the gonads of someone else?” Harrakhty asked with all sincerity. 

“They will be treated with an alchemical process using your vitae.” Noa answered. “Same with the womb.” 

“So not only are you asking for me to remove the heart of your companion, you also want both of us to relinquish vitae to you? All for the promise of a child born in a process of magic and insanity? Tell me, how in the multiple millennia that Kindred have existed and propagated that you are the one to be able to do this?” 

“Duskborn have been exceedingly rare until very recently in our history. Even fewer were able to survive long enough to understand their condition.” She gently squeezed Nythanel’s shoulder. “To put it in his own terms, my Nythanel is an elder Thinblood. He has not only survived, but thrived. We now understand so much more of our existence than we could ever have.” 

“What if this child comes out as an abomination? How can I know I’m getting what I’m paying for?” Harrakhty sat up and learned forward. 

Noa was thankful for the robe falling back over Harrakhty’s privates, and even more confident to have his undivided attention. “You’re a man of faith. I’m sure you understand there are not always guarantees for everything but I can guarantee I will try and try again until you get what you want. We have many more millennia to perfect the process.” Noa hoped it wouldn’t take that long but was more than willing to dedicate whatever it took to make it happen. 

“What do you think, my love?” Harrakhty asked Parvati out loud as they looked into each other’s eyes.

She drew closer to him, her breasts pressing against his shoulder. Her hand ran along his chest. She seemed ready to start practicing their part of the procedure. “I want our child.” She answered him in a quiet voice, kissing his neck. 

The robe once again covered little as she tugged at it. “You have your answer.” He said to Noa but his eyes were still locked onto his wife. 

Noa felt a rush of excitement. She gets her beloved Nythanel back, they will put the theories of their arts to practice. “When will you be able to remove his heart?” Noa asked. 

“Full moon. Give the briefcase to Arham.” Harrakhty replied before pressing his lips hard against Parvati’s. 

It was obvious it was time for her to go, although she couldn’t help but linger a moment as the pair of elder Kindred lashed out at each other lustfully. Noa couldn’t help but see hope in true Eternity with the one she loved with how even venerable kindred can keep alight a flame of romance. Noa took hold of the handles of Nythanel’s chair and started to push him toward the door. “I believe that is our cue to leave. Are you as excited as I am my love?” Noa practically cooed at Nythanel, giddy with the achievement of negotiating with Setites and the excitement of nights to come.

[armatofu]

María Callas

(1923/12/02 - 1977/09/16)

Soprano de origen griego

Una de las mejores cantantes de ópera del siglo XX.

Óperas: Tristán e Isolda, Rigoletto, La traviata...

Padres: George Kalogeropoulos y Evangelia Dimitriadis

Cónyuges: Giovanni Battista Meneghini 1949-1959)

Pareja: Aristóteles Onassis (1959-1968)

Nombre: Maria Anna Cecilia Sofia Kalogeropoulos

Apodo: La Divina

Altura: 1,70 m

María Callas nació el 2 de diciembre de 1923 en Nueva York.

Hija de George Kalogeropoulos y Evangelia Dimitriadis, emigrantes griegos. Sus padres vieron en el enorme talento musical de su hija, entonces feúcha, miope y más bien gordita, la puerta de escape a la miseria familiar.

Debido a las dificultades económicas de su familia, regresó a Grecia con su madre en 1937.

https://5ce30a9619da3e9876b0cb52f6780545.safeframe.googlesyndication.com/safeframe/1-0-40/html/container.html Se inscribió en el Conservatorio de Atenas estudiando con Elvira da Hidalgo, una renombrada soprano además de una excelente profesora.

Hizo su debut en 1941 con la obra Tosca de Giacomo Puccini en la Ópera de Atenas. Estuvo cantando en Atenas durante varios años antes de realizar su debut italiano con La Gioconda de Ponchielli en Verona en el año 1947. Esta producción de La Gioconda estuvo dirigida por Tullio Serafin, quien se convirtió en su mentor musical.

De adolescente rozó los 100 Kg. y se transformó en una mujer de 69 y ciento setenta centímetros de altura cuando su voz y su genio alcanzaban su cima. Los inicios de su carrera fueron interpretando papeles dramáticos como Isolda, Brünnhilde y Aida.

En 1949 se casó con el industrial italiano Giovanni Battista Meneghini, 30 años mayor que ella, que se iba a transformar no sólo en su esposo sino también en su manager, protector, financista y dietólogo. Estuvieron diez años casados.

https://5ce30a9619da3e9876b0cb52f6780545.safeframe.googlesyndication.com/safeframe/1-0-40/html/container.html En 1959, Callas conoció al naviero griego Aristóteles Onassis, por el que abandona a su marido Giovanni Meneghini.

Desde 1949, animada por Tullio Serafín se decantó por la coloratura de papeles que pertenecen al bel canto; entre ellos Norma, Lucia di Lammermoor y varios personajes de óperas italianas olvidadas durante mucho tiempo.

Reconocida especialmente por el color especial de su voz, su presencia dramática y su musicalidad, cantó sobre todo en La Scala de Milán, en las óperas de Roma y París, el Covent Garden de Londres y el Metropolitan Opera House de Nueva York.

En 1965, realizó su última representación operística con Tosca en el Covent Garden de Londres. En ese momento tenía 41 años. Tres años más tarde, Aristóteles Onassis dejó a Maria Callas por Jacqueline Kennedy. Durante la última década de su vida, vivió prácticamente recluida en París.

Realizó pequeñas apariciones con di Stefano e impartió una serie de clases maestras en el Juilliard School de Nueva York entre los años 1971 y 1972.

https://5ce30a9619da3e9876b0cb52f6780545.safeframe.googlesyndication.com/safeframe/1-0-40/html/container.html Una anécdota cuenta que siendo miope no toleraba las lentillas y tampoco quería salir a escena con gafas, así que actuó sin ver muy bien lo que le rodeaba. Se cuenta que una noche de invierno, en la Scala de Milán, cantó ante un público integrado mayoritariamente por partidarios acérrimos de la otra gran soprano del momento, Renata Tebaldi. Al término de la representación, estos bombardearon el escenario con toda suerte de frutas y hortalizas. La Callas no se dio cuenta de nada... hasta que se agachó para recoger un manojo de puerros. Sonriente, digna, sin perder su sangre fría, la diva se irguió con su ramo horto-frutícola entre los brazos, pidió silencio a la sala, y preguntó: "¿Dónde consiguen unas verduras tan frescas en invierno?".

En su libro María Callas, la tigresa y el cordero, David Bret sostiene que la diva tenía la obsesión de seducir y "rescatar" homosexuales. Así intentó en vano enamorar a Leonard Bernstein, Luchino Visconti, Franco Zeffirelli y Pier Paolo Pasolini, convencida, según Bret, de que ningún homosexual podría resistir su amor.

María Callas falleció el 16 de septiembre de 1977 de un ataque al corazón en su piso parisino. En 1979, sus cenizas fueron esparcidas en el mar Egeo.

[gingerradiohour]

Ginger Radio Hour #043

[Detail from a tremendous painting called "The Baron and the birds" by my friend Brian Knauer.]

Show Notes July 4, 2023

Listen to archived episode.

Theme: Woodpeckers.

All my recent woodpecker research led me to Steve Shunk. Steve knows woodpeckers. He's a naturalist, conservationist, birder, and guide based out in Oregon. Steve's also the author of the Peterson Reference Guide to Woodpeckers of North America. We chatted about the seven or so woodpecker species that live in the Catskills and Hudson Valley, focusing especially on the biggest bird in North America — the Pileated. (By the way, you can pronounce Pileated with a long or short “i” — both are correct.)

Playlist:

Sun Ra “Rhapsody In Blue” Album: Haverford College, Jan. 25, 1980, Solo Rhodes Piano

Sun Ra “Love In Outerspace” Album: Haverford College, Jan. 25, 1980, Solo Rhodes Piano

Sun Ra “We Live To Be” Album: Haverford College, Jan. 25, 1980, Solo Rhodes Piano

Zakir Hussain and Giovanni Hidalgo “Geezee” Album: Masters Of Percussion 1994

[magazinepr]

Ensayo de Giovanni Hidalgo - A tempo