#godspeed your love queue me

[notjustabadguy]

So, for a long time I've been thinking about how, while Ghost the Musical has some amazing songs, it also has a lot of weird/filler songs and was plagued by technical issues in its initial run. And then I remembered that one of my all-time favorite musical cast recordings, the 2012 Off-Broadway Carrie the Musical, was actually from a revival of an older show with a lot of similar issues to Ghost. They revamped the set list, keeping some songs and replacing/rewriting others; reworked a key scene to avoid technical issues*; and cast some phenomenal singers who could really bring out what makes the musical numbers so special. Wouldn't it be great if they did something similar with Ghost? I really hope that happens sometime in the next few years.

*Originally, the iconic blood drop scene in Carrie the Musical was done with a bucket of actual fake blood being poured over the lead. This, however, messed up her microphone badly, so they spent most of the initial run trying to figure out how to get around that — throwing the blood from the side worked better with the mic, but it looked strange, had the potential to miss the target, and STILL sometimes screwed up the audio. In the revival, they eliminated the issue by using a light effect instead of a practical one, more clever lighting for the rest of the scene, and then a quick change into a blood-stained dress and painting her face/hair with fake blood for the following scene.

[a-dragons-journal]

Tsaheyluri // Regarding the Bond

(A disclaimer for any fandom folk who stumble across this: I speak here of my own noemata as if they are The One True Canon(TM). This is purely for the sake of ease. I do not in fact believe in The One True Canon(TM); if your headcanons or interpretation of canon differ from mine, please take no offense and godspeed, have fun. I speak here only of my personal alterhumanity, my noemata, my Pandora. You are entitled to your own.)

Tumblr decided to shatter on impact and eat the first version of this, so here we go again.

Anyone who has read my previous writings about my hearthome has some idea of the fact that one of the things that draws my heart to Pandora most is tsaheylu, the Bond, and Eywa, the result thereof. For those unaware: tsaheylu is the Na'vi word for what happens when two Pandoran animals join their mehuru (singular kuru), their neural queues, specialized organs many Pandoran animals have which allow them to make a direct connection between their nervous systems, creating an intimate connection and mind-to-mind communication. The Na'vi famously use tsaheylu to tame and ride several species - the ikran, the pa'li, the ilu, and I'm sure many others - but it's not limited to Na'vi; fa'li are known to make tsaheylu amongst themselves before large herd movements, presumably to coordinate the herd.

I have noticed a discrepancy in how fandom folk tend to talk about tsaheylu versus how I think about it. When I see tsaheylu brought up in fandom, outside of "is this or that kind of bond possible" conversations at least, it's almost always in the context of "I wish I could bond with and fly on an ikran" or similar - that is, focused on the actions tsaheylu allows, rather than on the bond itself.

Perhaps it's just that my longing for flight is taken up by my longing for my own flight in the context of my draconity, but this is... beside the point of tsaheylu, for me. I long for tsaheylu of its own sake - the ability to bond with another being that closely, to Know another creature more intimately than this world allows. That is the point of tsaheylu to me - it's not just a tool to a greater end, it's an act of connection, an act of love.

In all fairness to the fandom: the movie does not do a great job of conveying tsaheylu, and that's no fault of the movie's either, just a side effect of the medium. Tsaheylu is really something that would be better conveyed in a written medium, because it's an internal, perceptive experience - you can't see the effects of tsaheylu from the outside. We get some idea of it from that first scene where Jake makes tsaheylu with a pa'li for the first time, with Neytiri serving to narrate and explain it to us, but it's still... shallow, at least compared to my gut instincts about what it's actually like. And then the rest of the movie it's just kind of a background feature - which is completely understandable, but kind of unfortunate.

Tsaheylu is a bond. It is a merging of two into one - a partnership, a working-together. This, I think, is also a common misunderstanding on fandom and sometimes canon's part, and I understand that this part is entirely my interpretation: the Na'vi do not command or take over the animals they bond with. They partner with them. The pa'li does not do what the Na'vi wants because it has to, it does so because the Na'vi asks respectfully, and because through tsaheylu it gains an understanding of why they are doing these things, why they are important, as the Na'vi understands it. It understands, at least while it can understand the world through Na'vi eyes, that the work they do together that would otherwise be utterly foreign to a "wild" pa'li enables them to care for each other and create a life that is safer and more comfortable for both of them than it would be alone.

This is, I think, part of why Jake struggles so much with learning to ride. He's constantly trying to command his mounts - we see it in his first flight with his ikran as well. Even in his Iknimaya -

This line, to me, is a sign that he still does not fully get it. He's still thinking of these animals in terms of possession, of mastery. And, predictably, his first flight almost gets him immediately killed.

Now, we don't... see him figure this out onscreen. But the way he talks to his ikran here, versus how he interacts with him later:

The fond smile, the use of "we," the acknowledgement of Bob's (yes, he canonically named his ikran Bob.) feelings about it, the fact that Bob came back for him unprompted after the destruction of Kelutral despite the potential danger that posed - all of these say to me that they have bonded beyond "guy and animal he considers a servant." Maybe I'm wrong about that, but it's kind of beside the actual point I was getting to here, I've just realized I've done the ADHD thing and derailed.

Back on track! (Can you tell I don't edit these before I post them?)

Anyway. The point is, tsaheylu is... so much more than "control an animal with your mind," or even "talk to an animal with your mind." You become not-two-not-one. You feel each other's bodies, each other's minds; with a little practice, communication can become so instantaneous that you move as one being. It is the deepest kind of tìkusame, of Knowing, that one can have.

And... we don't have it here. It crushes me, sometimes. Not because I'll never be able to fly on an ikran, not because I'll never be able to do something tsaheylu allows, but because I will never have that connection itself, that deepest knowledge of someone and being known in return. That is the importance, the meaning, of tsaheylu.

(A note: For anyone wondering about weird word changes in this, such as kuru -> mehuru, pa'li -> fa'li, etc., it's a function of Na'vi pluralization, which I prefer to keep even when the rest of the sentence is in English because "pa'lis" looks deeply wrong to me. Na'vi has three plural prefixes: me- (2), pxe- (3), and ay- (4+). All of these inflict lenition, meaning if the word they're appended to starts with certain sounds, those sounds get softened: tx -> t, kx -> k, px -> p, t/ts -> s, k -> h, p -> f, and ' gets eliminated entirely. Thus, kuru (one queue) becomes mehuru (two queues), pa'li (one direhorse) becomes (ay)fa'li (4+ direhorses), etc. The ay- prefix can be eliminated in cases such as fa'li where lenition is present, because if a word is lenited with no prefix, it's assumed to be in the general plural ay-; I frequently do this because it's faster (except when the lenition is getting rid of ', because I have trouble hearing the difference between, say, 'angtsìk and angtsìk when spoken), but it's not required.)

[artisafeelingg]

AUTHENTICITY:

I always talk to people and get the “you’re so different than I imagined” talk. While I know this is meant to be a compliment, and hearing it gives me great solace in knowing that someone has finally uncovered the real Lucia without letting their judgements of who I am from my social media, etc. hinder that, I cannot help but feel slightly sad. What about all of the individuals that never see the real me? Or all of the people who allow an Instagram post or a passing glance to write my narrative of who I am as an individual? This blog post is dedicated to starting my journey of authenticity and sharing ME on social media. From a young age I’ve been passionate about writing. In my eyes, the beauty of the written word surpasses all other forms of communication. Writing was my first love, and we had a tumultuous affair from writing articles for The Indianapolis Star to publishing my poetry in an anthology on Amazon and other international print magazines. Like all first loves, I put a tremendous amount of pressure on my love for writing and considered even making it my major. Eventually, we went our separate ways but my passion and knack for it has never ceased to exist, even many years later. I’m writing this first post as a toast to authenticity, and to using my social media to express who Lucia Ponader really is. She rather sentimental (queue the weekly cry sesh!) She is an avid lover of words and will constantly use large words which shocks people (girls can be hot and smart too. It’s called elevated diction. Godspeed on your journey of literacy). She is messy, passionate, unorganized (just ask her friends) and a whirlwind of emotion and intensity. She is a lover of ALL Asian cuisine and with absolutely zero apprehension would eat any form of Asian cuisine every day for the rest of her life. She is a self proclaimed dumpling connesuir. She absolutely cannot function without her trusted Aquaphor. She MUST sleep with multiple fans blasting on full speed directly onto her face (to the average overnight guest one would believe that they were at sea on a particularly windy day trying to fall asleep in her room). She might quite possibly be a hoarder because of her emotional attachment to literally anything. She enjoys sunshine beaming down, with a kombucha in tow and her favorite book. Or watercoloring outdoors with a great friend. She lived in Italy for 8 months and LOVES to travel. She conquered Hawaii next. Her absolute favorite movie of all time is the Great Gatsby directed by Baz Luhrmann, one of her favorite directors of all time. She hates driving, those sporadic “can I talk to you” texts, and picky eaters. She aspires to be a food critic, travel to every country in the world, and make her own Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations (P.S. Anthony Bourdain is my answer to the who would you have dinner with dead or alive question). She hates small talk and would rather engage in an enthralling discussion about something more abstract. Her favorite question to argue: do you believe in the idea of truth as it is literally defined? (in my opinion the correct answer is no, truth is merely a construct that is completely subjective and therefore is inherently unable to exist according to the definition of “truth”). She is creative and thinks outside the box; rules do not apply to her. She is an internationally published poet. She once ghostwrote music for her SoundCloud rapping ex. Favorite artist? Monet or musically it would have to be Cigarettes After Sex. She has been coined the “jester” of her friend group, as it’s her job to entertain and make people laugh. She does not believe that love is enough or that it exists for her (absolutely feel free to prove me wrong at any point). She loves a good laugh. She has flaws too, like all of us, but perhaps we will dive into those in another post. She exists differently in every single persons mind, but it’s time she takes control of that narrative, just a little. Here’s my take on authenticity, perfectly imperfect. Stop taking Instagram so seriously.

[aximili]

drafted this from @dominocity ages ago and forgot abt it until i was procrastinating just now :0

check in tag game ✅

1. why did you choose your url?

went by axx for a very long time (incredibly this actually had nothing to do with aximili-esgarrouth-isthill even tho i did grow up loving animorphs. i had an OC who used the online handle axolotl.... something... i cant remember.... and i thought it sounded cool so i started using it. wow i had actually forgotten this info until just now! lore!) anyway someone on tumlr reminded me how much i loved animorphs and i wanted a new url at the time. someone just had it saved and wasnt using it so i was like fuck it, why not ask. politely messaged the blog and they were like oh ya i forgot abt this and freed it up

2. any side blogs? if you have them name and them and why you have them.

i have like 6 but i no longer use any of them & havent for years lmaoooo

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

i think its a decade this year. and ive never changed blogs once. im like a fungal infection here they cant get rid of me

4. do you have a queue tag?

i have never queued and i never will. you get my posts when you get em.

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

a lot of my friends on deviantart (yes dear god) were becoming more active here and i started checking some humour blogs daily until i was eventually like why not just make an account

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?

Him. (from the cover of #8 the alien, the first ax pov book, which i found in a 2nd hand bookshop as a kid and was soooo excited bc i could normally only read animorphs at the library, they were never in shops. still a treasured possession.)

7. why did you choose your header?

it just really describes my emotional state at any given time

8. what’s your post with the most notes?

unfortunately i believe it's this, which is not even my original content nor even the OP's original content, as it turned out. but "online job application form" dnd joke is probably second

9. how many mutuals do you have?

who the got damn hell is keeping track of this?

10. how many followers do you have?

1439. its been around this number for like 2 years i really just stagnated at a certain point but idm

11. how many people do you follow?

968. to paraphrase lydia, i suppose i should follow 1 more. (im sure that at least half of those are inactive. i have been here for a decade.)

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

by no means. none of my posts are shit

13. how often do you use tumblr each day?

uhhhhhhhh i probably open it and glance at activity/briefly glance at my dash llike 5 times a day? a lot less now that i use locked twitter for socialisation

14. did you have a fight/argument with a blog once? who won?

god no i am incredibly nonconfrontational. a couple times in my younger and more vulnerable years id post some stupid uninformed take and someone would rightfully disagree, and occasionally vice versa, but i honestly can't recall a "fight"

15. how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts?

it's good to only follow adults the dashboard becomes a peaceful place

16. do you like tag games?

yes i like talking about myself 😊 but i never tag anyone bc im lazy oops.

17. do you like ask games?

i rarely do them bc i would usually not get any lmao, but they can be fun

18. which of your tumblr mutuals do you think is famous?

alma my friend alma seems to get a lot of nonsense in their inbox even tho they only post abt yugioh. eliza was definitely my most famous mutual but she freed herself from this place to become a real author, godspeed. and logan really blew up with "your dad looks gnc af" most recently

i think i have some more well known mutuals (again. been here 10 years.) but i cant think of them rn lmao sorry if ur a famo and i excluded u.

generally people think i have a lot more followers than i actually have? it's hard to gauge whether that's a compliment or not, but i take it as one.

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

i have crushes on like everyone i meet it's called being bisexual </3

20. tags?

i tag...... YOU yes you. if u want!

[achieveandhunt]

live typing extra life 2019

warning: this a fucking LONG post. if you plan on reading it all, godspeed.

i typed all of this as it was happening on stream so this gets progressively less coherent as i grow more sleep deprived. prepare yourselves. i may or may not go off topic at some points

larry vehemently vomiting pure malic acid. we’re off to a great start

what the fuck the soggy ass popcorn in that ranch jesus christ

lindsay in the song from AH the musical. i love her so much

jeremy going YAAAAAAY after someone eats a cursed oreo

matt getting AGGRESSIVELY kissed by larry

“this kiss this kiss” before geoff and jack kiss

geoff “i’m from alabama” ramsey

THIS FUCKING RANCH SEGMENT HAS ME GAGGING

jeremy “the alcohol demon the whiskey goblin” dooley

alfredo “you wont believe what the white people did today” diaz

DUSK BOYS DUSK BOYS DUSK BOYS GET THAT DICK ESSENCE

wait why does it sound like wonderwall

they look like characters from the matrix

the speaking parts. make my teeth hurt

in conclusion: they weren’t kidding abt the tight pants 

okay everyone get ready for eric soundboard spamming YEAH BABEY

“hi i’m from broadcast and i don’t want to be here” they represent themselves well

also, let’s take a second to appreciate broadcast here!! they have a really tough job and don’t get a ton of credit. lots of love to all of broadcast!!! you guys are awesome

i am: foreseeing problems with this eric sound board

which one is eric?? will the real eric please stand up?? was the real eric the one we found along the way??

“i’m... just really worried that i won’t ever find love-” “i really don’t care”

WHY DO THEY HAVE THAT ON THE SOUNDBOARD (what does that apply to? whatever it is you’re thinking of, but mostly “daddy wants some”)

ooh someone’s about to get a fReE tongue piercing from a pineapple

god dammit i went to the bathroom for thirty seconds and now they’re eating chad’s chest hair

owie the shock collar and belly slap look painful, but drinking natty light from a shoe? that’s a true punishment

“and this roast was brought to you by meundies”

ah yes what better way is there to end a segment than people throwing up

“man action” oh no

THROBERT MULVEINY

K A R B is blind in T W O of her eyes

“my last name is cottagecheese”

I HAVE A PIECE OF METAL SHOVED UP MY A S S 

chris has somehow managed to lose 23 years of age and roughly 412 pounds

“just open throat like baby bird” who the fuck is writing this and why is it jeremy

jon. jon you’re breathing in adam’s ass fumes

a summary of this segment: ass and cottage cheese

BARB IS HERE I REPEAT BARB IS HERE

“to fitness” -starts choking-

final fitness coach: tad, here to workout your issues so they can beat you into submission

“will you buy my wet” well i don’t see that on the raffle items

we’re back folks & i’m loving this walk around segment

moonball wall and gavin&michael will soon be reunited can we get an F in the chat

jeremy getting a borderlands tattoo is very on brand

what’s extra life without a little satan

“starvation army, putting lead back into paint, increasing childhood obesity” people in chat: TAKE MY MONEY

chris “i’m doing a different hole” demarais

ah yes. the game we all play in hell: twister

nobody edit chris getting mustard shot down his throat. i’m scarred enough from the original clip

oh fuck. oh god. the mayo. oh god what the fuck is up with the misuse of condiments this year

this just in: a human soul costs roughly $12,700

D̷̯͑̆̈́͝Õ̸̲͎̥̬͈̬̙͕̲G̸̢̧̠͉͚̙̲̙̓̔̀̇S̷̥̀́͆̈́̇̀ ̶̣̞̗͚̬̭̖̦͇̈́̎̈́̿̓̈́͆̒̋D̷̙̟̩̫͉̺̐̊̚Ö̶̥́̋́̓ͅĜ̵̞̌͋̏̉̌̕͝͝S̵̤̹̣̫̮̻͛̍̑̕͝͝ ̷̧̨̞̙̥̟̜͍̉̍̑̏̇̀̾D̴̻̮̩̯͓͉̖͎̘͐̒͋̓̉͝ͅỎ̶̰͓̳̥͑̅͛͊̒͐͊͘̚G̵̩̻̦̥̠̃̔Ş̶̹͚̩̱͖̀͆͘ ̸̢̢͇̻͔̗̺̼͖̱̏̾̔̚D̴̨̨̫̙̃̾̋̾̆̓̓Ớ̷̡͓͎͊G̶̱̣̣̰̝̖̰̗̓͐̐̊͋̀͊̀̕͝Ş̷̩̺̬̖͙̺̟͗̈́͒͗̀̑́́̕͠ ̷̡͈̼̲͈̳̫̺̝̈́̋͌͗̒ͅD̸̨̬̞̪̗̘̄̑͆̿̈́͘͠͝O̸̡̡͇͕̻͎͍͉̅̌͗̄͌̑̉̔͂̎Ḡ̸͙̟̪̞̬̬͕͐̈̏S̶̝̪̼̮̠̜̭̳͖̘̑

urine: to help with aerodynamics

jon: maya, speak! maya: *the smallest arwoo*

today’s mvp: any dog. pick one. no matter which you pick, you’re right

how the fuck did blaine change back from satan so quickly

barb as a cat is... my new sleep paralysis demon

blaine: barbara speak! barbara: climate change is real

#dogsforkids

this just in: extra life killed my wifi

we’re back & kdin is in the business of killing people with spice. she is the spice queen

queue six thousand well-timed 1337 donations

HOLY SHIT THAT’S COLIN FROM WHOSE LINE IS IT ANYWAY

hmm “questionable liquids” is very... questionable

trevor: oh there’s four of them! we all get to join in the Fuckkkk

“what’s your favorite kind of candy” “any meat”

i like pickles and i would rather rip my eyebrows off than drink the juice so i feel for trevor

the only thing worse than drinking apple cider vinegar is shooting it out of your nose

“can you feel the love tonight” “i used to and that’s the problem”

“flubs every word man” damn, really missed the chance to say captain hair

jeremy not being able to intentionally flub his words is so fucking funny

OK BOOMER 

wow i can feel my blood pressure spike just watching these shots

Xavier Woods is here and he wants to know if it’s Christmas

miles doesn’t know what a question is

WHERE’S YOUR HAIR

oh no. oh no helping hands is next. everyone clear a splash zone

CHEF MIKE CHEF MIKE CHEF MIKE

miles bossing around chef mike is priceless

“you leave that fucking dough on the floor”

“you wanna slam your hands down on the table” *pizza sauce goes flying everywhere*

HOEDOWN HOEDOWN HOEDOWN jesus why do i keep doing that

“If Colin Mochrie is listening, I’ll see you here next year” OH FUCK YEAH

--- this is when i take a break so my soul can return to my body (aka i have work to turn in. college will never not be a pain in my ass) ---

oh god dammit i missed all of Always Open. fuck college who needs a medical degree

so... we have some very interesting things happening in family feud and i’m not sure if i like any of them

hmm. is now the time to get drunk

oily twist feels very... ominous

what do you mean you don’t remember gandalf having a taser in lord of the rings?

someone in the chat said “big stupid sleeping thing is what my parents called me in high school”

i think i’m blacking out what’s going on i don’t remember the past two hours

ah yes. voldemort and snape having a talk show together sounds exactly like something J.K. Rowling would make a spinoff book or show or porno of

can we just talk about how much shit chris has been doing this year? what a guy. what a dude

“coldy with voldy” actually means getting knocked the fuck out cold because you only got three hours of sleep last night and you don’t want to miss chef mike and lindsay cooking

this snape poem is summarized by one phrase: “that was terrible sit the fuck down” (sorry chris)

“let’s destroy a weasley” enter chad

fucking called it

“you smell poor” i need a caffeine drip

heh the wheel spins are at 69 heh nice

i’m a grown ass woman

welcome to a section called: we torture chad for your entertainment

“who wants us to kill weasley?” *massive cheers from the audience*

“wait weasley step away from the wideshot so i can masturbate to this later”

“i’m not gonna rub my eye mom”

oh they’re really gonna kill chad on stream huh

i felt that chest slap in my soul

i think i felt my own ribs crack

oh fucking

tumblr deleted my thoughts on the fanfic section

alright. fine. brief summary: my teeth are burning

my mom lindsay is on next and i’m so excited but i’m nearing the point of loopiness so things will go downhill dramatically from here

this is my fucking fourth extra life, you would think i’d be smart enough to sleep the night before

LINDSAY LINDSAY LINDSAY THAT’S MY MOM

JEREMY JEREMY JERE- wait a second... did jeremy get taller

oH CHEF MIKE CHEF MIKE CHEF MIKE

i hope Xavier comes back next year because he’s funny as fuck

m y a t t

oh god the mcdonald’s shade i’m rolling

lindsay “who’s the chef here” jones

chef mike mentioned mayo and i involuntarily gagged

chef mike clowning the big mac. i’m crying

he made the right choice with ryan bc i’ve seen his cooking stream(s) and it’s nothing if not great content

i heARD A MICHAEL JONES

“lindsay you haven’t done anything but warm up cookies so far” “yeah and?? you’re welcome”

you know that classic snack. slightly warm oreos

JEREMY THE LIQUOR GOBLIN DOOLEY IS BACK

oh god him screeching across set is making me cry laughing

why does it remind me of trevor’s voice cracks in the one minecraft ep where they’re singing the lion king

the biggest spoon for the smallest shot glass

i just realized we’re not even halfway through yet and i’m scared for the length of this list i’m gonna end up falling asleep involuntarily at some point

lindsay no your teeth are going to errode from that shot in your mouth

well timed leet donation #1829495

this gorden ramsey bit is so fucking good

jack: what do you think of the arugala? matt: i don’t even know what you said

iT’s NoT jUsT tWo CoOkIeS miCHeAL

jeremy and michael just chillin amidst the choas is exactly my demeanor at any party i’ve ever been to

lindsay scores: ryan = 7 because diet coke, matt = still eating lindsay’s meal so it’s a 10, xavier = also still eating it so it’s an 8. total: 25

“deep fry everything but a remote control”

chef mike scores: ryan = 9 for no death, matt = greens are present, words were said, score is 8. xavier = Gourmet Mcdonald’s, food is edible, score is 8. total: 25

oh fuck it’s a tie

now they fight to the death. death = doing as many shots as possible

i think we’re all going to need liver transplants after tonight

no jesus please don’t vomit oh goD oh fUc k please- oh thank god

okay i’m making a part two this is too much

[johannesviii]

Top 10 Personal Favorite Hit Songs from 2009

20 to 21 years old. And so the 2000s end, not with a whimper, but with an explosion of upbeat, great pop songs.

Only one third of these lists left to make!

Disclaimers:

Keep in mind I’m using both the year-end top 100 lists from the US and from France while making these top 10 things. There’s songs in English that charted in my country way higher than they did in their home countries, or even earlier or later, so that might get surprising at times.

Of course there will be stuff in French. We suck. I know. It’s my list. Deal with it.

My musical tastes have always been terrible and I’m not a critic, just a listener and an idiot.

I have sound to color synesthesia which justifies nothing but might explain why I have trouble describing some songs in other terms than visual ones.

First to second and final year of my Master degree in Contemporary History. Also got two summer jobs that year. I was basically only researching and writing my master thesis at this point and trying to survive on a 50€ per month budget to pay for transport, clothes, driving lessons, and food apart from one meal a day. Needless to say, some corners had to be cut and my health wasn’t the best. I was also trying to register to pass some concours d’Etat to be a government worker considering there was 0% chance I’d be able to find a job otherwise with my qualifications and my mother had been trying to find an excuse to throw me out for more than four years at this point. Basically I was broke, stressed out and in panic mode.

Thank god, the music was mostly energetic and upbeat on the radio. I can’t imagine what my mood would have been like if the charts had been as horribly depressed as in 2018 or 2019.

This was also the year when my favorite music reviewer ever, Todd In The Shadows, started to make his first videos, so you might think his lists are going to influence mine, but as it turns out we have very, very different tastes for the most part (I mean come on, the guy hates Depeche Mode), so... not so much. But he helped me discover a lot of songs I would have ignored otherwise, so yeah, godspeed, Todd.

It should be mentioned that the two songs that I wanted to put at the top of this list before looking at the actual year-end lists turned out to be non-elligible and that is extremely frustrating. Obviously, as I mentioned in the previous post, there’s Life In Technicolor II by Coldplay, which has an incredibly fitting name since it’s one of their most colorful songs ever. But I’m not even sure I would have put it at #1 since this was the year of Mika’s second album, and oh my god, We Are Golden was FANTASTIC. It’s my absolute favorite song from the guy, the music video is incredibly fun, and I listened to that shit on a loop as soon as it dropped.

I usually don’t put such large links for non-elligible songs but the fact this isn’t elligible is nothing short of criminal. Check it out if you’ve never heard it.

As for albums from bands I liked... eh. Lacuna Coil dropped Shallow Life, which was not as good as KarmaCode, Pet Shop Boys dropped Yes which wasn’t nearly as good as Fundamental, Depeche Mode dropped Sounds of the Universe which was DEFINITELY not as good as Playing the Angel (I liked Wrong, though. But it’s not elligible), Eminem released Relapse which was joyless and pretty bad and he was kinda dead to me at that point (even if it wasn’t as terrible as Encore AND he had that song with Drake that was very good), Placebo released Battle for the Sun which was pretty great but still not as good as their previous two albums, Paradise Lost had Faith Divides Us Faith Unites Us and basically same thing there, and Indochine had La République des Météors which is imho their worst record in the past twenty years, by far.

Long story short, every single one of the bands and artists I loved who released an album that year let me down (except Placebo, maybe).

And then VNV Nation released Of Faith, Power And Glory, I listened to it, and suddenly I had a new favorite band, and everything was good and beautiful in the world again. Album of the year for me, hands down.

With that out of the way, a few honorable mentio-HOLY SHIT HOW MANY OF THESE ARE THERE, WTF

Replay (Iyaz) - A perfectly good and innocent little earworm.

Run This Town (Rihanna) - I don’t like the original very much (Kanye’s verse is atrocious) but I've had a mashup of it with Bach’s Tocatta & Fugue in D minor (yes you read that right) on my mp3 player for years now, so this has to count. The mashup is called Run This Town In D Minor. It’s one of my favorite mashups ever. I even made fanart of it once! Look it up if you can, the original video has apparently disappeared.

Circus (Britney Spears) - You know it’s a good year for pop when even Britney Spears makes music I like.

Magnificent (U2) - Wait, even U2 was making decent music? I had zero use for them since at that point Linkin Park had more or less taken over their ecological-musical niche of “mainstream epic-sounding pop-rock music with tortured vocals and Emotions(tm)” but that one was still kinda nice.

Même Pas Fatigué (Magic System & Khaled) - I’ve said that before and I’ll say it again but they always bring a smile to my face and I don’t get why it’s ‘cool’ to hate their songs in my country. Yeah, they often sound the same, but I’d listen to ten similar-sounding Magic System songs in a heartbeat whereas you’d have to pay me to listen to ten similar-sounding Nickelback songs.

Day n Nite (Kid Cudi) - This had a tendency to get stuck in my head, but not at all in an unpleasant way.

21 Guns (Green Day) - Much better than I remembered.

When Love Takes Over (David Guetta), Stereo Love (Edward Maya ft Vika Jigulina), Evacuate the Dancefloor (Cascada) - That year was full of catchy, stupid, energetic songs, wasn’t it?

Greenlight (John Legend) - If I had better taste, this would be on the list. Alas, you’re reading the top 10s of someone who once put Blue (Eiffel 65) in a #1 spot, so yeah.

In Your Hands (Charlie Winston) - Same thing, basically.

Like a Hobo (Charlie Winston) - “Like a hobo from a broken home, nothing’s gonna stop me”, said this very useful song. Now is a good time to remind you that my nickname at the public university was The Hobo. So yeah. I liked this song a lot and I still do.

Forever (Drake) - Drake and Eminem are both amazing on this track. Unfortunately there’s also Kanye West and Lil Wayne on it. But. Like. “I'm Hannibal Lecter so just in case you're thinking of saving face / You ain't gonna have no face to save”. Dude. Duuuuuude.

You Found Me & Never Say Never (The Fray) - Did I mention I really, really liked this band. I think I did. Several times.

Paparazzi & Love Game (Lady Gaga) - Would both have had a chance to land on the list without the incredible amount of great, catchy tunes that year had to offer.

C’est Dans l’Air (Mylène Farmer) - Mylène Farmer had THREE singles on the French year-end list and this is the ONLY one I like. Good electro, mediocre verses but a great chorus (and a weird and kind of hilarious music video). Basically a song saying we’re all going to die and she can only sing about it. It’s strange, it’s a bit dark in a fun way, but it’s sadly not enough to land on the list, and it was the last cut from it.

Phew. Making this list was like a Hunger Games of catchy, upbeat, stupid songs to find which one was the best. It’s not #1 but I’m still shocked I had to put it so high.

But first, the runner ups.

10 - Fire Burning (Sean Kingston)

US: #33 / FR: Not on the list

Yes, ALL these honorable mentions were kicked out to give the last spot on the list to this guy and a chorus that goes “somebody call 911, shawty fire burning on the dance floor, WOAH!”.

The fact that I don’t feel bad about it means this was the right pick for that spot.

9 - Rain (Mika)

US: Not on the list / FR: #22

Anybody else thinks Mika looks like the Fourth Doctor on this screenshot from the music video or is it just me?

Anyway. So yeah, as I said, We Are Golden would have topped this list if it had been elligible. Sadly, it isn’t, but Rain is. I don’t like it nearly as much as We Are Golden, but what can I say. It’s still Mika. I’ll take whatever I can.

8 - I Gotta Feeling (Black Eyed Peas)

US: #4 / FR: #17

I lost about 80% of the respect I had for this song the day I realised its untouchable, marvellous beat was very probably stolen from Take a Dive. I still love it though. Had a few actual parties in 2010 and early 2011 and this was garanteed to make everyone dance, even people like me who don’t know how to dance.

And then the dancefloor died instantly anytime anyone tried to put Boom Boom Pow on because it’s impossible to dance on that one. But that’s another story.

7 - Poker Face (Lady Gaga)

US: #2 / FR: #5

Needless to say this was absolutely everywhere and overplayed to death and beyond, and the fact I still wanted to listen to it and put it on my playlists really tells you how good I thought it was (and still is).

6 - Ça m’énerve (Helmut Fritz)

US: Not on the list / FR: #1 (...yes.)

This is a novelty song with a singer pretending to have a thick German accent, complaining about various things in France, like the fact he doesn’t fit the dress code for a club, that he wanted to buy a sweater with “Rock” written on it but it’s out of stock, that some girls can fit in a size 34 blue jean and not him, that there’s a queue of people trying to buy macarons at the Ladurée shop, and so on. And every time he concludes “that gets on my nerves”, said in a very flat tone. Here’s a translation.

It was overplayed as f█ck here. Think Despacito levels of overplay. But the beat is great and it’s still hysterical after having heard it about a hundred times that year.

Fun fact, while I was making this list and relistening to this song, my s.o said “haha that sounds great! What is it?” and I stared at him in disbelief. Somehow, he was completely serious. That’s like someone escaping the Great Macarena Onslaught Of 1996. What happened. How.

5 - Waking Up In Vegas (Katy Perry)

US: #36 / FR: Not on the list

Again, I must remind you that my s.o is a Katy Perry fan and that I’ve heard this song even more than the average radio listener did at the time, and it’s STILL #5 on this list. What can I say. It’s a ton of fun and one of my favorite songs from her.

4 - New Divide (Linkin Park)

US: #61 / FR: Not on the list

Is this their best song? Not by a f█cking mile. I thought it would be much lower when I started to make this specific list, but what can I say. Linkin Park is like that one old friend that you kept no contact with for years, and once you meet them again, it’s like they never left. Who cares if that wasn’t nearly as good as Numb or In the End? Not me, that’s for sure.

Also, “In every loss in every lie / In every truth that you deny / And each regret and each goodbye / Was a mistake too great to hide / And your voice was all I heard / That I get what I deserve”. Holy shit, dude.

3 - Good Girls Go Bad (Cobra Starship)

US: #43 / FR: Not on the list

BEHOLD. THE ONLY SURVIVOR OF THE 2009 ‘CATCHY UPBEAT STUPID SONGS’ HUNGER GAMES. THE CATCHIEST, UPBEAT-IEST, STUPIDEST OF THEM ALL. HERE IT IS AT LAST.

The thing I love about this is that it’s a song made by nerds for nerds and that the singer looks and sounds completely non-threatening. As Todd said in his own list back in the day, “that guy couldn’t make good MILK go bad” and that’s what’s so endearing about the song, I think.

Also yes, this is, in fact, placed above Linkin Park.

2 - Use Somebody (Kings of Leon)

US: #14 / FR: Not on the list

This was my #1 at first. I LOVED it. I even bought the album, even though, as you know, my funds were very low that year. That music is soaring. It’s majestic. Well, the lyrics aren’t that majestic and soaring, it’s about loving someone and trying to catch their attention, but the rest? Damn this is intense. It was also elligible for the 2010 list, by the way, where I ALSO wondered if it should be #1, but in both cases, it wasn’t meant to be.

And so this list of 2009 hit songs comes to a close.

It began with the forging of the Great 2009 Upbeat Songs. Three were given to the Punk Rock hits. Seven to the Dance Tracks. And nine, nine songs were gifted to the Radio Friendly Pop Songs, which above all else desired power.

But they were all deceived, for another song was made. Deep in the forgotten land of Synth Pop, in his Parents’ Basement, the Dark Lord Adam Young forged a master song, and into this song he poured his joy, his talent and his will to dominate all charts.

One song to rule them all.

1 - Fireflies (Owl City)

US: #60 / FR: Not on the list (76 the next year)

I know. It’s a meme nowadays. But still. Have you any idea how satisfying a song with an initial beat that looks like small pulsing yellow and blue lights in the dark ACTUALLY titled “Fireflies” is? How gentle it all sounds and looks, even when the music soars? The number of drawings and paintings I made just based on the colors of THAT song? It’s like a synth pop version of one of my favorite Mike Oldfield tunes ever, Weightless.

And then, on top of all the rest, how relatable was that guy’s body language and general attitude?? Before even knowing he was on the spectrum I was like “oh BIG mood.”

Also following his twitter was one of the best decisions I ever made.

So yeah. I would have loved to put Coldplay or Mika in that #1 spot, but I’m not too mad about it thanks to this wonderful little song and its author. Such a shame Deer in the Headlights and Alligator Sky aren’t elligible for the 2011 list.

Next up: Johannes finally moves out and finds a great job and starts living a little, plus here’s a #1 that will be difficult to justify

[giftapfelina]

A Very Merry Unbirthday

Chapter 2: Madhouse

I hate mornings.

Even as the effects of sleep has faded away, the thought whirls around Lorina’s fuzzy head. Poking the fluffy texture of scrambled eggs with her finger, she stares accusingly at her sister’s back.

Apparently, her dear sister, Edith, finds it’s a brilliant idea to scream into Lorina’s ear while she is asleep. While it effectively does prove to be the best wake-up call, Edith disregards the fact that it almost gives Lorina a heart attack and sends her to kingdom come.

Lorina closes her eyes tiredly, letting her finger slips further into the breakfast.

There’s the sound of bird chirpings, greeting the first break of dawn.

There’s the faint barking of an enthusiastic dog from afar; probably the baker’s son taking his golden receiver out for its usual, morning walk.

There’s the chattering of a couple, who live in the cottage across theirs, stomp about, slam doors as they hurry for their daily morning routine.

Lorina is about to be lulled back to sleep when Edith gives her nose a well-aimed flick.

“Ow! What was that for?” protests Lorina, cupping the reddening spot. Edith stands there, grinning. “For sleeping on me. Didn’t you hear what I was talking about?”

“Should I?” Lorina fakes interest, looking out the nearest window and seriously considering jumping out of it.

“Of course!” cries Edith passionately, jumping into Lorina’s line of vision. The grimacing girl, however, could almost see hearts in Edith’s eyes—that could only mean one thing. “I was talking about the formal audience. The Red Army is scouting for King Lancelot’s dance partner!”

Lorina let out a heavy sigh. “I sincerely hope something hinders you from going.”

“Don’t you start!” Edith jumps her sister, shaking the girl violently. “You already cursed me last year! I was coughing my guts out because you forbade me from meeting the love of my life!”

The look Lorina gives Edith is absolutely dead-pan. She’s dead exhausted; last night, she had to clean up the mess that Kyle dude had unintentionally left, while at the same time a certain hatter was being a total jerkass. Adding to that, the lack of sleep has her temper on short fuse.

“I’m done. It’s too early to deal with this,” she claims, moving to get up, but the firm grip on her shoulder tells her otherwise.

Edith continues to smile sweetly at the taller girl. The sparkle in her eyes indicates any other objections will henceforth forever fall on deaf ears. “Lorina~”

“No, I refuse,” Lorina says immediately, not needing to know what kind of task her insane sister would demand. Her hands are already grabbing the threshold to shake the girl off but Edith is equally if not more relentless.

“Can you let go?” Lorina asks impatiently when Edith begins to grasp the hem of her pants, not letting her sister leave. At least not without having her dignity in tatters.

“Let go.”

“Let go.”

“Let go.”

Before they know it, Edith is dragging Lorina through the bustling streets of the Central Quarter. The Chattaway sisters look exceptionally beautiful, as they are now clothed in ones of their best clothes.

In the beginning, Lorina did try to make a run for it, but Edith was no easy match as she forced Lorina into the dress.

Lorina glances over at her sister. They may be siblings, but Lorina has always felt Edith is the more favoured one. While Lorina prioritizes hard work, Edith would charm her way to the top. Even her hair shines radiantly, quickly catching the eyes of men around her.

The older sibling looks down at the peachy hand wrapped around her more tanned one, watching in a daze as their family heirloom—a silver bracelet dangling innocently around Edith’s wrist.

Lorina unknowingly furrows her eyebrows.

Unbeknownst to the girls, a man is observing them from afar. He isn’t the most striking chap out there, yet the lithe young man with a genuine smile and prominent cheeks is exactly what people see—the only son and heir to the aristocratic Godspeed family.

“Fenrir, what is it?” a sandy-haired girl approaches him, noticing the hint of fondness in his eyes.

There was a time where one of the Chattaway sisters used to joke how dazzling Fenrir Godspeed’s smile was. So dazzling that he could blind an entire squad of bullies. Ever since then, the two girls have been important figures in his youth.

“Oh, just saw some friendly faces,” says Fenrir offhandedly, smiling.

The girl looks over his shoulder, seeing only the back of a black-haired girl, disappearing in the direction of the Red Bridge.

“As I just said, state your business.”

It isn’t uncommon there are biased, anecdotal views of the Red Army. As a neutral Cradle resident, Lorina tries not to get involved with politics. And she does this by not taking sides, but at the moment, the Red Army is making it hard not to.

Particularly this gate guard, who pulls out the inspection card on Edith and her. Lorina assumes it’s because they don’t appear ‘trustworthy’ enough.

Talk about power abuse, Lorina thinks sourly.

“I told you, we’re simply going to attend the interview,” insists Edith, though she too is beginning to lose patience. “Please let us through.”

“Last time a commoner is let into the headquarters, we were reduced to humiliation by that lowlife Ace of Spades,” says the man, gritting his teeth in reminiscent anger.

Lorina smirks smugly. She’d have to thank a certain gun-wielding maniac for that. “Why? It’s not our fault that you’re not trained well,” she retaliates dully, ignoring the nudge Edith sends her as well as the soldier’s hostile once-over. “Look, buddy; sooner or later, you’ve to let us in.”

“Or what?” his hand inches closer to his sword.

“Cause I really need to pee, like right now.”

There’s a taut pause, and then the man splutters. “Y-you’re kidding, right?”

“On the contrary, good sir! My sister has a rather small bladder,” chimes Edith, clueless to his flustered expression. “But she’s rather good at aiming! Would you like a demonstration?”

“No, thank you!” the blushing soldier has all but screamed. “You’re free to go inside!”

“You sure?” asks Lorina, hands lifting the hem of her skirt up, revealing her ankles. That manages to scare him as he takes a huge step back, frantically dismissing them.

The ladies then casually continue their way, the disturbed look of the soldier following their retreating forms. Once they are out of view, Edith glomps Lorina, forcing kisses on each of her cheeks. “Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou! See, I told you coming here would do you good! Breathing the same air as King Lancelot clears your head! Amazing, isn’t it?”

Lorina begrudgingly rubs her cheeks. “Your number of thank yous is amazing.”

“Oh, look at the time! We need to hurry!” When Edith tries to grab Lorina, Lorina swiftly dodges her hand.

“You go on,” Lorina indicates at the head entrance, where a cluster of girls is gathering. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I had to pee.”

Edith has a disbelieving look on her face. “Again? You and your unavoidable visits to every restroom…Alright, meet me somewhere in the middle of the queue. Hear me? Don’t you dare run away!”

With a dismissive wave, Lorina hurries away in search of the restroom.

Lorina somehow manages to give herself an unprompted tour of the place. It’s definitely not her first time at the luxurious barrack of the Red Army, yet she can’t seem to recall the way leading to the ladies’ room.

“Why the heck do they have so many rooms?” Lorina mumbles to herself as she trudges along one of the halls. The sound of her footsteps is muffled by the richly-carpeted floors. Paintings of previous Kings and Queens adorn the walls, making her feel as if she is being watched by their expressionless eyes.

In her haste to get away from the creepy ‘hall of fame’, Lorina rounds a corner too quickly that she almost run into a surprised pair of blue eyes. With a gasp, the brunette narrowly avoids bumping smack dab into the person.

Their eyes meet, and Lorina swears her heart has skipped a beat.

Edith will be jealous when she hears this.

“Who are you?” asks the King of Hearts, narrowing his eyes. “This side of the building is off-limits to visitors.”

Lorina has a feeling that if he doesn’t like the answer, there will be serious consequences. Everything, from his polished shoes and his cape to the tip of his blond hair, just emits an air of authority.

She straightens immediately, praising herself for not sweating buckets under his steely gaze. “King Lancelot, sir, I seem to have lost my way from the crowd,” she inwardly flinches at the increasing falsetto in her voice. “Would you happen to know the way to the restroom?”

A dawning look flickers across his face, softening his gaze a bit. “Ah—you must be one of the girls who is being scouted for the dance…”

Lorina’s face reddens slightly at that. “Uh…it’s very unlikely that I will be chosen for that but yeah, that’s…the idea.”

It must be hard to evoke emotions in this bloke of ice, but at the moment Lorina barely manages to detect the tiniest smile forming on the corners of his lips. “If you walk down the hallway from here, you’ll see the ladies room on your right side.”

“Ah…cool—I mean, that’s good to know,” Lorina grimaces in a sad attempt to smile. “Thank you, your majesty.”

“Yeah.” Lorina pointedly ignores the brief shiver running down her back as she hightails out of there. He has a nice voice.

Thump! Thump!

The several bangs on the door surprise Lorina. Scowling at the reflection of the door, she aggressively wipes her dripping, wet face, deciding that the person knocking can just wait for a minute or two.

“Hello? Hello! Open up!”

Lorina flinches at the very masculine voice before strutting over to the door, unlocking it. “Hey, this is the ladies’ room!”

There’s a blur of red, and Lorina finds herself being shoved back by the sheer force of the opening door. She trips and lands, hard, on the floor, causing her elbows to ache in protest from the fall.

Pristine, white trousers scuffle into the room. And as Lorina raises her head, she sees that they belong to—

“Kyle? Kyle Ash?”

Kyle pauses and looks down. He has just caught sight of Lorina, who is still laying on the ground, looking nothing less of vulnerable with how she is displayed to him. “What’re you doing down there?” he asks dumbly.

Her face is twitching, and she abruptly sits up, annoyed. “What’s it look like I’m doing? You pushed me! Jeez, what’s with you and making my life difficult?”

Kyle openly stares at her for a moment before offering a hand. He is evaluating his chances of a harmless exchange of pleasantries as she accepts his hand, when—

“You work here? Does your employer know of your tendencies to puke everywhere you see fit?”

The redhead feels his lips thinning. “If you’re still angry about yesterday, I told you I’m sorry, didn’t I?”

Lorina, however, makes as though she doesn’t hear him. “So why are you hiding in here, may I ask?”

Resigned, Kyle indicates at the door. “Just don’t let them catch you.”

Making a show of rolling her eyes, she pushes past him and looks through the small opening. All along the corridor, armed soldiers are rushing around, faces alert and wary.

“Apparently someone thinks it’s a genius move to douse Jonah with tea,” chuckles Kyle from behind. “So—our Queen, being his majestic, forgiving self, decides to..uh…I quote ’cut her fingers off and makes her eat it to rue the day she soiled his perfect hair.’”

“And that explains why you’re hiding in the ladies’ room…?”

It took a while for the ginger to consider this. “Do I look like a guy who would want to get involved in anything physical?” he deadpans.

God help me. Lorina sighs, her bangs fanning upward before resettling again over her blank eyes. “I’m getting out,” she announces, no longer bothering to keep civility. She feels like she’s going to lose a brain cell or two talking with this man.

“No,_ wait_!”

It’s too late. Lorina throws open the door, just as the soldiers are moving to the next searching location. Several pairs of eyes land on her as she stands there, expression blank, grey eyes staring aimlessly ahead.

It goes downhill from there though.

There’s a heck of lot yelling, quickly followed by blades pointing at the tip of her hair to her toes. Quite literally.

The girl nervously smiles, feeling a trickle of sweat on her spine. “H-hi.”

It is then, that another gentleman marches forward, the rest of the soldiers moving out of his way in synchronization. His steps are quiet, movement regal and graceful as he comes to stand before her.

“There you’re,” this man’s beautiful features contradict the condescending air that lurks beneath his amber eyes. “After the atrocious act you just pulled on me, you don’t think you can get away from it, do you?”

What’s in the blazes hell?

Before she could even defend herself, she feels the telltale clasp of something around her wrists. Looking down, Lorina isn’t sure what to make of the handcuffs securing her hands together.

“Ms Edith Chattaway, you’re hereby charged with assaulting the Queen of Hearts,” declares a Red officer. “Anything you say may or may not be used against you in a court of law.”

Her gaze turns flat. Of course.

[luisprada]

Directing The Dancing Bartender From Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up” Video

Director: So you’re a bartender, and then you hear the music and you dance. Maybe throw in some spins, wipe down the counter a little – whatever feels right. But, like, be happy about it. “Woo dancing! It’s fun!” that kind of thing. Sound good?

Dancer: Uh…

Director: What’s wrong?

Dancer: That’s it? What’s the story here? Why do I go from washing a glass to dancing, and so quickly? Is the song that good? I haven’t heard it yet.

Director: It’s okay. I mean, it’s fun, but when it’s over, it’s like it never happened.

Dancer: So, why am I dancing so much then?

Director: You really need direction for this? Just dance. It’ll be in the video and you’ll get paid. Easy.

Dancer: Mister Director, I am an artist. I speak through dance. It is not just movement. It is an expression of my soul. As such, I cannot physically articulate the complexities of this bartender’s emotions if I don’t know what they are.

Director: Goddamn it.

Dancer: …

Director: Alright, look – you’re a bartender out of options. Your wife is libel to pack and leave you at any second. Every whiskey sour your serve up to some morose local drunk reminds you of the heartbreaks and failures that kept you behind that bar instead of spreading your wings to soar. Sometimes you think if you just had one path out of this life, you’d take it. No questions asked, no idea where you’d land. It’s that bleak. But then, Rick Astley starts performing “Never Gonna Give You Up.”  

At first, you’re intrigued. Is this a black person singing? Sounds like it, but there’s a vague…whiteness to it. It’s almost cool but not quite. Maybe express that with a curious look over to the stage, like you’re not sure if one of your customers is stealing a napkin holder. They’re not. But for a second there, boy, did it look like it.

Dancer: Hmm. How’s this?

Director: That’s…good, actually. Didn’t expect you to nail that. Um…so, anyway -- the music. It’s an intoxicating rhythm. It bursts through your emotional wall. You’re amped up. Your problems are still there. But the lingering trauma that’s coiled itself around every synapse, influencing every word and action, is numbed. The pain, it…it doesn’t hurt as much anymore. It can’t, not while Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up” is playing. So your neck bobs to the beat, your eyelids shut. You’re not going to need eyes to see where you’re headed – to an awakening.

Dancer: Right. Okay. So, you mean like this…

Director: My God…exactly like that! Astonishing! Sir, your soul radiates through every move.

Dancer: Thank you. I think I can do this. What do I do next?

Director: You’re entranced. You dance, unaware of place, time, and your customer’s growing concern for your mental health. This isn’t a small nod to a beat anymore. Each pulse of your hips is a tug at the chain that binds you to your sorrows. Your shoulders and arms dip and sway in an intrepid battle against a tenacious tide unseen to all but you.

Dancer: Mmph. Mmph. Can I do something with the towel?

Director: Like wha--

Director: Heavens above.

The Director shakes his head in disbelief. The Dancer points to his heart.

Dancer: It comes from here. I’m simply its vessel.

Director: Well, it’s perfect! Rick’s song has woken something inside of you, a sense of possibility you haven’t felt in years, the sudden opening of the door you’ve been pushing against for as long as you can remember. With a toss of a towel and a handspring, you’re breaking free of the bar’s constraints.

Dancer: I love it.

Director: As do I, but what if we harnessed this creative breakthrough and spun it into something even greater? Follow me here: what if we get some shots with you further expressing your newfound lease on life brought on by Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up”? It’s just you alone, away from the bar, dancing with abandon, feeling joy for the first time.

The Director becomes crestfallen.

Director: But…no. It’ll never work.

Dancer: But why, Mister Director?

Director: To do something like that, we’d need a feat of dancing unlike any we’ve seen before. A move so spectacular, so daring, no other physical expression could match it. But I’m afraid a move like that would be impossible to pull off, deadly even. I’m not even sure if one exists.

Dancer: I see what you mean.

Director: Oh, damn it all! We were so close! We had lightning in the bottle but could not contain it! Maybe we were never meant to. We tried and we failed. There’s no shame in that. We’ll film what we came up with and then try to live with ourselves knowing what we could’ve accomplished here today if it were even possible to touch what lies beyond mankind’s reach.

Dancer: Mister Director, if I may be so presumptuous, I might have something. It might not be exactly what we need, but like my father always said, “Do what you can with what you have.”

Director: Those are wise words. Your father was a smart man. But wisdom has its limits.

Dancer: Please, Mister Director. Just give me the chance to show you what I can do.

Director: I don’t kn—

Dancer: Please.  

The Director sighs.

Director: Fine. But should anything happen to you, I will disavow all knowledge of this conversation. It was a maneuver you attempted on your own in defiance of my directorial will. Do you understand?  

Dancer: I understand.

Director: Then Godspeed.

Dancer: Thank you. Here we go. On three…two…one…

Dancer: What did you thi--Mister Director, is everything okay?

Tears stream down the Director’s cheeks.

Director: Oh, quite, yes. Come, let’s roll camera – and change the world.

                                                   ******

                                       400 Years Later

The line extended for a quarter of a mile. Some in the queue wore white shirts with rolled sleeves, red suspenders, and loose black slacks; others in a black and white-striped long sleeve with black short-shorts and ankle socks. The ones at the front had been waiting since before dawn to be the first allowed in. With patience and grace, the ones at the back waited hours for their turn. A few thousand more would arrive as the day went on.

They were all there to pay respects to the man and the maneuver that elevated the human race to unprecedented heights of thought, empathy, and courage. They had come to watch the Dancer spring off the chain-link fence again and again in mega-HD clarity as his image projected out of a hologram-emitting cube. The cube itself obscured by a lush bed of flowers, making it look like he’s leaping way from a dreary parking lot fence and into a psychedelic sea. Surrounding the flower bed is hundreds of plain white towels laid there by visitors signifying a pilgrimage that has reached its end.

An inscription atop a pedestal among the flowers reads: “This memorial is dedicated to the Dancer, who, in this very spot, leaped onto a fence and sprang into our hearts. We never gave him up.”  

[drjacquescoulardeau]

STEPHANE BELMONDO – THE SAME AS IT NEVER WAS BEFORE - 2011

 Un trompettiste, d’abord et avant tout qui a donc joué toute sa vie durant dans des formations de jazz ou plus légères mais ici qui s’adonne aussi à des morceaux qu’il porte de son propre nom, donc comme compositeur. Le titre anglais est bien sûr une provocation. Comment prétendre faire dans le jazz autrement qu’en anglais ? Mais comme dirait Steinbeck : « Prenez n’importe quelle musique dans n’importe quel genre ou pays et improvisez dessus en tempo syncopé et vous avez du jazz. » Il disait cela dans l’ancienne Union Soviétique. C’est la pratique la plus courante de son frère Lionel, à notre Stéphane, qui prend des morceaux classiques et les déjante en jazz, les dé-jazze en quelque sorte.

 Stéphane Belmondo reprend une pièce sur deux à des artistes de langue anglaise et probablement américains. Et cela donne de la variété en style alterné comme un tissu pied de poule.

 Le premier morceau de Stéphane Belmondo est nostalgique en diable et m’évoque le vertige contemplateur qu’on peut développer d’une cime de montagne plus ou moins élevée quand devant vous, sous vos pieds ou presque, à vos pieds pour sûr vous n’avez que le vide et l’envolée tombante si par malheur vous oubliez d’ouvrir vos ailes musicales pour descendre en vol plané.

 Stevie Wonder donne ensuite du rythme, de la joie, car lui il ne voit pas le vide sous ses pieds et donc il peut danser sans s’arrêter quel que soit le climat ou le paysage. Par contre Habiba de Kirk Lightsey introduit un sous-bois plutôt simple pour la trompette ou autre cousine dérivée ou cousin mal luné qui peut alors s’introduire et montre son caractère grincheux, hésitant, un peu révolté ou insoumis qui se demande s’il doit aller à droite ou à gauche, s’il doit s’envoler ou se poser, plonger ou faire la planche. Il joue même d’une sorte d’écho de lui-même, une voix de tête de sa voix de poitrine. Très bonne introduction à ce qui vient ensuite, le corps principal de ce ou cet ou cette Habiba qui me rappelle Habib Bourguiba dans ma mémoire ancienne, mais en fait c’est de l’anglais urbain comme ils disent là-bas de l’anglais presque vulgaire ou argotique des quartiers dits populaires comme Belleville ou Ménilmontant. Et là le sens est simple :

“The meaning of Habiba is beloved, sweetheart or loved one, and it's incredibly accurate. A Habiba is a stunning human being, with a brilliant sense of humour and a personality that reminds you why it is a pleasure to be alive.

Habiba can make you laugh when you've had the worst day. You can talk to her as though you've known her your whole life, and trust her with anything. Habiba's are beautiful creatures, and if you know one then hold on! You feel that the world is a brighter place simply by talking to her. She is the kindest, most genuine individual, who you can be yourself - no matter how ridiculous that is - with, and an absolute honour to have in your life :)

Habiba is the kind of incredible friend that I would happily share Tom Hiddleston with. Cheekbones and all. I love her so, so much.”

 L’amour parfait mais que l’on est prêt à partager. Etrange concept de l’amour qui est comme l’amour d’une bonne pièce de bœuf que l’on partage avec son meilleur ami. Mais cet amour partagé devient fou avec la trompette qui s’emballe comme un taureau devant un morceau de chiffon rouge. Il ferait bien de freiner un de ces jours, de s’arrêter, mais rien à faire. Il danse comme un fou, un dératé, un inconscient aux mains pleines qui se ruent vers le ravin comme un bison poussé par le troupeau en folie et qui va aller s‘écraser au fond d’un ravin. Les charognards viendront après comme la batterie, tambours et cymbales qui s’en donnent à cœur joie du silence de la bête. Là aussi, il y a de l’amour qui se clôt par quatre notes de piano.

 Stéphane Belmondo nous donne alors une de ses compositions et on retrouve le ton un peu lent et hésitant mais nostalgique, presque triste malgré le titre « free for three » qui devrait être enthousiasmant car trois ça tourne en diable comme une valse en Sainte Trinité et libre c’est encore plus tournant, mais non pas tourner de l’œil d’émoi alangui mais tourner comme une toupie au bord de la falaise, et on reçoit en priorité l’appel du vide et de la chute. On hésite, d’un orteil ou de deux, vais-je sauter, plonger, sombrer ou réfléchir à deux fois ou simplement m’abandonner au plaisir de commencer la chute en oubliant les remontrances d’un vieux père que l’on doit penser la fin avant de commencer. Mais le fils et frère n’écoute rien sinon l’appel du tambour.

 Mais une fois ne vient jamais seule et Stéphane Belmondo nous donne une autre composition de lui qui commence avec les vagissements d’un bébé et un solo de contrebasse aux cordes piqués, pincées et tordues comme il se doit. Puis cymbales, piano et nous voilà parti et la trompette prend le lead, le lied, la tête et le chant. Et la lumière sur Rita tombe sèche et langoureuse, elle sera humide plus tard. Pour le moment elle est jouisseuse de la vue voyeuriste et le piano piaffe un peu d’impatience. Mais Rita n’est pas vraiment à prendre, du moins pas encore. La trompette se fait un peu plus attirante, moqueuse, attirante, appelante, et même un peu exhibitionniste. Alors piano me prendras-tu ou pas. Plutôt pas que oui mais pas question de fuir hurle la trompette, taratata. Mais rien n’y fait le piano a perdu son latin et son envie j’imagine à cette trompette dominante. Il se noie plus ou moins dans la contrebasse comme si pianoter dans la contrebasse pouvait couper le nœud gordien de l’impossible rencontre d’un piano un peu trop réservé et d’une trompette devenue un peu trop aguichante comme si on était place Clichy quatre minute après minuit, demandez à Stephen King, il sait tout ce qui peut arriver à cette heure fatidique. Et la trompette revient pour une dernière absinthe sur un sucre et la batterie ajoute un peu d’eau sur le sucre pour diluer l’absinthe et en faire un jus de fruit désorbitant. Musique parisienne en diable, du Paris populaire et du Paris érotique pour ne pas dire pornographique.

 Matt Denis a alors rendez-vous avec nos musiciens et c’est le cas de la dire Everything Happens to Me. Et là ma chère trompette tenez-vous bien et ne dérangez pas l’étal du magasin. Calme, lentement, avancez d’un pas plus sûr qu’il n’y paraît et faites donc que le destin qui est derrière vous, vous soutienne et vous pousse vers des extrémités, des fins, des finalités inconnues et nouvelles. Mais la langueur paresseuse de notre trompette résiste à la poussée et ne ressent pas l’appel alors elle se prend d’une jouissance personnelle sur place, tournant sur un pied et un talon et se demandant s’il n’y aurait pas un ciel d’aube qui puisse se révéler dans la nuit de ce boulevard à la porte du Cimetière du Père Lachaise incapable de pousser le portillon ou de passer le mur pour enfin se trouver dans la seule chose qui arrivera un jour pour sûr, de jour comme de nuit, la mort certaine et la fin en terre ou en fumée comme si rien ne pouvait dépasser cette limite triste. Ah quoi bon pourvu qu’on ait un verre de vin j’imagine, en cinq notes.

Mais Stéphane Belmondo se devait bien d’en appeler à Dieu et son Godspeed n’a rien de bien rapide ni divin mais bien plus diabolique, répétitif, lancinant, méchant même. Il y a un charme dans cette titillation sans fin comme si on était dans un concours de chatouillis et de gratouillis qui finit heureusement avant d’exploser.

 Wayne Shorter veut nous prêcher l’unité dans son United, une unité comme pour du square dancing disjoncté et qui n’en finit pas de ne pas se trouver. Il part ici et là dans un jazz plus urbain mais ne se retrouve quand même pas. Unis, nous sommes peut-être mais cela devient fébrile, intense, prenant, emportant, impératif, pressant, injonctif et tout sauf conditionnel. Le mouvement nous prend les pieds et le corps et nous déboulons sur l’avenue principale de je ne sais quelle New York, Nunited, Nyounited, Newnited. Le piano se croit dans un speakeasy alcoolique et il nous enivre de ses touches noires et blanches, de son clavier qui ondule dans notre ivresse. La batterie nous tanne la peau et le dos comme si nous étions quelques esclaves méritant le fouet, et la trompette peut revenir avec un chat à neuf queues pour ajouter quelques griffures à notre dos balafré de fouettage salé. Et on retombe dans le petit air mélodique du début comme si de rien n’était, comme si ce fouettage n’avait été qu’un exercice de jouissance dans l’exquise douleur de ce qui ne dure qu’un temps toujours trop court.

 Et nous finissons avec Stéphane Belmondo qui nous hante maintenant et est hanté de la même façon. Hanté, hantant, bref pris d’un spectre en forme de trompette et de quelques chaînes pianistiques en prière. Voyez-vous le revenant, le fantôme de je ne sais quelle nuit folle au matin arrivé et qui se doit de se demander ce qui a bien pu arriver dans ce monde nocturne. Et le piano fait ses vocalises sur nos nerfs tirés à blanc. Vous mourrez bien ce matin, petit frère mal appris et spectral. Mais nous en parlerons dans quelques heures quand j’aurai repris du poil de la bête. Et après une pause tout reprend dans des gargouillis et un équilibre retrouvé. Le fantôme de la gueule de bois est parti et il ne reste plus qu’un appétit à en mourir de faim. Et bien dansez donc maintenant.

  Dr. Jacques COULARDEAU

[solongfranklloydwright]

hi i love your page so much do you have any tips for starting out on tumblr

thank you! i’m honored you came to me for advice omg

in no particular order:

follow @thebootydiaries

add no comments to any posts you reblog for the first month. you will only regret those cringey little “LOL”s and “OMG SAME”s

reblog memes

get a solid title and description for your blog. i recommend keeping it short and sweet to let your blog’s content speak for itself, but!!!! do whatever you want! (just not song lyrics)

get a cool theme that makes you want to visit your own blog and stare at it in admiration

make sure your blog is clearly anti-terf; they’re just nasty.

don’t tell anyone you know irl about your blog. 

learn how to queue, my dude. it’s such a life saver

don’t be afraid to talk to people! tumblr is a great way to make friends!!

most importantly, don’t treat your blog like a product to be sold. reblog stuff that makes you happy! run freely through fields of fandoms and discourse and memes and aesthetics!!!!!!!! godspeed and good luck!

[notjustabadguy]

I know that this blog is dedicated to Carl and Ghost, and at first this will seem unrelated, but... okay, so one of my other all-time biggest on-screen crushes is John Kramer/Jigsaw from the SAW series, played by the immensely talented Tobin Bell. For those of you who don't know him, here he is in SAW II:

Anyways, so I always knew Tobin as a silver fox. I didn't really think of what he might have looked like back in the day. Then one day he shared a photo of himself at 17 on social media and, well...

I guess I've got a type? 😂 😂 😂

[notjustabadguy]

I had the most random idea the other night: what if Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice the Musical) and Oda Mae Brown (Ghost the Musical) ran into each other in a professional capacity? Like, Oda Mae is hired by the new owners of a haunted house to help put the spirits to rest, only to discover that Beetlejuice was hired by the deceased original owners of the house to scare the new tenants away. They’re both just such charismatic con artists and I want to see them aggressively sing at each other trying to get the other one to leave.

[notjustabadguy]

Okay, so I adore Caissie Levy, but after (finally!) seeing Hamilton, I have to say that Phillipa Soo is my dream casting for Molly Jensen.