#harry potter looks like shostakovich | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

iwillgiveyoumyhappiness · 6 years ago

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김재현, Kim Jaehyun

anonymous asked:

Hello can I request a masquerade party themed scenario with NFLYING’s Jaehyun “ your eyes stole all my words away “ I’ll leave the rest to you xD it would be nice if it involves description of the outfits , the place , the dance ... etc

Group: N.Flying (엔플라잉)

Member: Jaehyun

Your heels clicked across the marble floor, the echo muffled by the other guests. They were everywhere, scattered all around the gold-tinted ballroom, chatting and drinking from crystal champagne flutes. The chandeliers hanging from the ceiling looked like they contained thousands of diamonds, but even more importantly... A story.

This entire place was story.

Those chandeliers told the story of how they’d hung there for over ninety years, always being of service to illuminate a ball. The floors told the story of how numerous pairs of feet had glided across them in rhythmic harmony. The small stage in the back told the story of the many musicians that had played music there over the years, including tonight.

“The Second Waltz,” you hummed to yourself, hearing the short but distinctive introduction. “Dmitri Shostakovich.” A smile spread across your lips, painted a down-toned red. It was less of bold statement, more of a gentle accent. “Good choice.”

You walked forward, your dress—a red silk that reached farther in the back than the front—billowing behind you in a pool, rippling like water that’d been ever-so-lightly disturbed. Your shoes—strappy and black with expertly placed rose accents—clicked along to your gait, a quiet tap-tap-tap.

The dress was strapless, revealing your clavicle and shoulders to everyone. On a normal occasion, you wouldn’t wear something like that, but here you were... Unknown and draped in wonders. You wouldn’t remain unknown forever, but just for the time being, it was nice to be like this.

It was nice to mysterious and beautiful.

It was nice to be covered with flowing red and elbow-high white lace gloves. It was nice to be hidden by a mask of impressive butterfly wings and it was nice to be showcasing the rubies hanging on your ears and around your neck.

You felt like someone who could turn heads, but without anyone knowing who you were. You were noticed purely for your intrigue.

You heard footsteps behind you.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” you heard.

You turned in a single smooth motion, the loose parts of your intricately twined hair tickling you cheeks. “Yes?” you said, giving the man behind you a once-over. The music changed to Johann Strauss’s ‘The Vienna Blood Waltz’, seemingly perfect background music for the look of the man.

Judging by the bright smile he was wearing, he was probably a little playful. Maybe a little mischievous. But there was something else there, too. An elegance. Maybe it was his long arms and legs, or maybe it was the quality of his suit.

He wore a long dark coat that reached the back of his knees, shrouded in gold and silver embroidery. Underneath, there was a simple white dress-shirt and a pair of slacks, tucked into knee-high boots. His hands were hidden by smooth dark blue gloves, having a bit of a sheen to them in the low-light of the ballroom.

Although, you would argue that the best part of the whole thing was his mask. Most men would be afraid to have something lace on their face—afraid of endangering their masculinity—but he seemed more secure than that, a multicolored flare brought to the whole thing.

There wasn’t anything particularly special about the mask itself. The highlight was his eyes.

Yes... His eyes were what changed the quality of his appearance. Not his suit, you decided. There was something inside of them. An adventure, a promise, innocent fascination and a childish wonder.

“Is there something I can help you with?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Not really,” he said. “I just wanted to say ‘hi’.”

You chuckled and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Well, sir, you have.”

“I guess I have,” he said. “I should find more excuses to talk to you.”

You laughed at the statement. “You’re kidding, right?”

He shook his head, still smiling. “Not at all, miss. What brings you to this charity ball?” he asked.

You gave him a coyly cryptic look. “Charity,” you said simply. “Isn’t that what we’re all here for?”

There was a spark in his gaze, like he sensed your challenge. He was fully willing to accept it; willing to play your game. “Yes, I suppose we are.” Without much thought, you both made your way across the ballroom, walking side-by-side while still retaining a respectful distance.

The song changed once more. This time it was Eugan Doga’s Gramofon.

The mystery man stopped walking and held out his hand. “Dance with me?” he questioned.

Wordlessly, and with a small smile on your lips, you accepted. You took that hand, covered so curiously in rich fabric.

When you made it the center of the room, illuminated directly by the light from the largest crystal chandelier, that’s when you began. Your left hand went to rest on his shoulder, your right hand staying in his. His hand went to your waist, holding gentle, yet firm.

He took a step forward, you took a step back. A perfect carousel-like harmony, gliding across the marble with a simple one-two-three, one-two-three, hitting the down beats with a certain amount of stylish gusto.

The other dancers around you faded away. In this moment, this waltz was the only thing that mattered. Even if it made you uneasy, afraid to mess up, you still felt like this moment was something to cherish, though you didn’t know why. Maybe it was the thrill of mingling with a stranger.

“I hear there are supposed to be a lot of celebrities at this event,” the man said. “Would I know you?” he asked as he spun you under his arm.

“Do you watch the news often?” you asked.

He shook his head. “I try not to,” he chuckled.

“Then, no,” you said, “you wouldn’t know me.” You ended your turn a little closer to him than you had been before, sending a shiver down your spine. “Would I know you?” you asked. “Your eyes look familiar.”

“Do you listen to a lot of rock music?”

You tried to silence a snort. “No, not particularly.”

“Then, no,” he said, playfully mimicking your tone, “you wouldn’t know me.”

There was a short period of time where you just danced, a smooth melding of timing and tasteful style. One-two-three, hold forward. One-two-three, hold back. Hold to the side, hold to the side, fifth position breaks, full box and then turn.

You felt like you were flying, never having to worry about stepping on his feet or messing up the moves. He was a strong leader, and (as all leaders in a dance should be) his first priority was making you look amazing. Even spin, your dress flared behind you in the most beautiful way. Every hold was filled with expectation rather than dead space. Every time his hand brushed closer to you, he pulled it respectfully back to it’s rightful place.

It wasn’t a boring dance at all, but you decided that it wasn’t enough. You wanted to keep talking. His voice had grown on you in such a short time. Or maybe it wasn’t that it had grown on you, but more so that you hadn’t heard it enough and you craved more.

“What do you think of the ball so far?” you asked.

He hummed a thoughtfully. “A little pretentious, maybe?”

“Pretentious?” you echoed. “Why do you say that?”

He shrugged, almost throwing your balance off. “A bunch of celebrities were invited here, right?” You nodded. “Well, celebrities don’t want to be made to feel special.” You waited patiently for the rest of his reasoning. “They want to feel normal,” he said.

“They love what they do, of course, but they also want a safe environment where they can be themselves and mingle and not care about security, fans or impending doom,” he joked. “This is fun,”—he gave you an almost shy look—”believe me, but I think thing’s would’ve gone just as well if this place had been covered in bean-bag-chairs, Nintendo Switches and chip dip.”

You nodded slowly, taking a little time to process. “That makes sense, I suppose,” you said. Without realizing, he spun you one last time as the song came to an end. You looked around, slightly dazed. “It’s... over?” you asked.

He laughed. “Yeah, it is!” He didn’t let go of your hand. “But if you want, we can still talk.”

You nodded, trying to keep yourself calm. But on the inside, you were truly bursting. “That sounds good,” you said softly. Gently you pulled your hand away from his. Though you would’ve liked to keep holding it, you felt creepy for thinking that.

With your footsteps in sync, you walked back to the side of the room, blending in like beautiful, shadowy wallflowers. It was a nice hideaway of quietness.

You talked with each other for a a solid hour and a half, exchanging everything from playful banter to serious discussion and then whether the books or movies were better for Harry Potter.

“So, in conclusion,” you said, “I think Ron Weasley was much better represented in the books.” You crossed your arms, sure you had made your point. You waited for a reply, but it didn’t come. You looked up at him, only to see him staring you, his chin resting delicately in his palm. You chuckled nervously. “Why did you stop talking?”

He blinked, tearing his gaze away from you with a nervous clear of the throat. “I don’t know,” he sighed. “Your eyes stole all my words away, I guess.”

You smiled. “You know—” You were cut off by the screeching static of a microphone being adjusted. The music slowly died off, drawing everyone’s attention to a podium near the central area.

A man—a little boring and mousy looking, especially under his plain white mask—stood there, wiping his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. He ran a hand through his close-cut salt-and-pepper hair before clearing his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “I would like to start this out by thanking you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to come to the 52nd Annual Seoul Historical Foundation Fundraiser.”

He took a nervous sip of water from his bottle off to the side. “We’ve relied on people like you for support for years now, and the fact that you still continue to come is beyond humbling.” Finally, he took a deep breath, seeming to calm down a little. “And now, a word from our chairman!” he said, stepping away from the makeshift podium with a certain amount of relief in his eyes.

You stood up, as if on cue.

“Where are you going?” the mystery man whispered to you.

You turned around, flashing him a smile. “To work,” you said. You made your way across the floor, people gaping at you as you did. You’d been talking with them and socializing all night and no one suspected or recognized you. You made your way to the podium, a pleased smile on your face.

You lightly tapped the mic, making sure it was still in working condition. “Now that I know you can all hear me,” you said, “it’s a pleasure to fully and finally meet you!” You saw the mystery man’s jaw drop and you had to hold in a chuckle. “I’m the new chairmen of the Historical Foundation, if case you didn’t gather. I took over from my father just this year, due to his age. But it seems the first event that I’ve prepared is more than a little...” You smirked a little. “Pretentious,” you said.

You saw the mystery man cover his face in embarrassment. He couldn’t believe he’d said that directly to the chairman and organizer of the event.

“I’m sorry for that,” you said earnestly. “Someone here tonight brought that to my attention, and I’m grateful for his input. I hope this doesn’t deter you from helping us save beautiful buildings like this,” you said, gesturing to the great hall, “and I hope that—even though I’m clumsy and unsure and new to all of this—that you’ll give me a chance to do better next year.”

You could feel all the eyes on you, but you didn’t feel nervous. You were finally known... But you would be known for something good.

“Thank you, and have a wonderful rest of your evening. Donations will be taken up until midnight.” You gave a short bow before applause hit your ears. It shocked you a little, but you tried to play it cool, giving a polite smile and walking off the podium.

You could see the mystery man watching you as you stepped off, an appreciative smile on his face, still clapping for you with the most fervor out of everyone.

“Hey, Hyeong-seok,” you said, calling over the mousy man with the salt-and-pepper hair.

He scrambled over with a clipboard, his handkerchief stick messily out of his breast pocket. “Yes, ma’am?” he said.

“Who’s that man over there?” you asked, gesturing to your mystery dance partner.

He examined him before giving his clipboard a once-over. “That would be...” He snapped his fingers. “Ah! Kim Jaehyun!” he said. “He’s a drummer from a rock and roll band under FNC Entertainment.”

You smiled. Suddenly, lots of things made sense. “I like him,” you said simply.

“What, miss?”

You shrugged. “I like him.”

I don’t know about you guys... but I kinda need Jaehyun in that fit I described. Just lowkey. Or I could draw it. I’d be good with that, too.

Anyway, thanks for the request, Anon! It was really beautiful and intricate to write. I hope you enjoyed it a lot, and I hope it met expectations. Or maybe... Exceeded them? We shall see.

Feel free to stop by again!

#n.flying #n.flying jaehyun #kim jaehyun #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #kpop angst #masqurade #for anon

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spiffyb · 6 years ago

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Ferdinand’s Phantom

He stood on the deck, looking out at the gulf islands scattered with cedar trees and tiny, colourful cottages, which seemed diminutive at this distance. They looked like doll houses. Ferdinand was lucky to have made his four o’clock ferry reservation, although now he began to have second thoughts about leaving his car – a jaguar E-type – unattended on the vehicle deck. But this was Canada. Suddenly a pod of around thirty killer whales burst into view. Ferdinand froze in place, staring at the orcas open-mouthed, and forgot all about his jaguar.

Finally, Ferdinand arrived. It was a resplendent chateau, surrounded by cedar trees and decorated with creeping emerald vines, which resembled a network of veins. In the garden roses grew: blood red, white, silver and gold. He parked outside, marched to the door, and knocked firmly three times. It was answered by a young girl of about thirteen, who turned scarlet as soon as he spoke to her and muttered something inaudible before scurrying away like a frightened animal. Not long afterwards, Alexa Ashworth descended the spiral staircase, carrying herself erect and flashing a set of blinding white teeth that matched her white-blonde hair. ‘Oh, Ferdie!’ They kissed each other on each cheek, the way people do in France. ‘How are you, Ferdinand? How was that awful ferry?’

‘Fine,’ he replied, ‘Better than flying.’ Alexa glanced past him at the forest-green jag outside. Pursing her lips and raising her eyebrows, she nodded approvingly. She looked back at Ferdinand and smiled, gesturing to an armchair. Taking a seat opposite, she rang a small silver bell on a tray. A young girl in a black and white maid’s costume, with mouse brown hair, walked swiftly into the room.

‘Mary, two vodka martinis, please.’ Ferdinand started to lift his right hand, but hesitantly placed it back on his lap, while Mary flitted off. ‘Are you excited for the party tonight? I’m afraid you’ve arrived rather early. No one will be here until at least seven o’clock.’ Ferdinand gazed out the window at the chinks of yellow light sneaking through red-and-gold maple leaves; it was still only October, and Vancouver Island was far enough south that it was light at this hour. He said he might take a walk, and left his drink with the servant girl, who was all too pleased for the chance to dispose of the untouched cocktail. Alexa’s makeup artist was due to arrive any minute, so she pranced upstairs, while Ferdinand went to inspect the grounds. The estate covered twenty hectares, and the gardens required constant upkeep. Ferdinand caught sight of himself reflected in the still waters of a lily pond. He’d been much younger when he first met Mrs Ashworth. At forty-five, his curly brown hair began to sprout a few greys and worry-lines creased his forehead. Though he was still handsome; his eyes were the colour of the lily pads and his cheek bones were prominent on his lightly tanned, perfectly symmetrical visage. He thought he’d better go inside and get ready for the party, which he was suddenly in the mood for.

The household staff busied themselves decorating the mansion, while Ferdinand went to the spare room to dress up as Dracula. He hoped it was original enough. Who was he kidding? His costume screamed indifference. It didn’t matter what people thought, though. It was entirely ridiculous for a serious psychiatrist to disguise himself as a demon and participate in Hallowe’en, which was really about children and candy.

Donning fake fangs, fake blood and a midnight cape, the doctor opened the golden door knob and strode with feigned confidence into the party. Alexa was wearing a floor-length porcelain-white gown and a crown of flowers freshly picked from the garden on her head. She held a bouquet of Parma Violet peonies in between her two full breasts, which were at least fifty percent on show. She was nearly the image of a blushing bride, were it not for the trail of red running from her left breast to the train of her dress and her rather horrifying makeup. And she actually paid for that. ‘Hello, Dracula.’

‘What are you supposed to be?’ Ferdinand enquired.

‘A zombie bride, obviously.’ She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Oh, look. The entertainment has arrived.’ Ferdinand spun around to regard the latest arrival. ‘Lucy, hi.’

‘Hey,’ Lucy grimaced. She wore a pointy purple hat, a long violet gown with belled sleeves, and pointy black shoes. You couldn’t tell if she were bald, because she was wearing the hat. ‘You look…nice.’

‘Oh, yeah? You do know this is a Hallowe’en party, right?’ When no one laughed, she added: ‘Lucy came as herself!’

‘Actually, I came as you.’ The whole room erupted into laughter and the bride’s face waxed red as magma.

Pockets of partygoers prattled animatedly, as Ferdinand poured himself a red plastic cup full of punch. He poured one for Lucy, smiling at her.

‘Cheers,’ she said, ‘To a fabulous fête.’

‘Are you Métis?’ Lucy rolled her eyes and laughed. He shouldn’t have asked that.

‘Yeah.’

‘Hi, hi.’ Alexa waved, waltzing over. ‘Is everybody having a good time? Mm… punch.’ Ferdinand wondered how much she’d had.

‘I think I’ll go out for some fresh air,’ Ferdinand suggested, swaying slightly as he stumbled towards the door. Alexa darted in front of him, lifting the train of her dress.

‘Why don’t I join you, Mr Vampire?’ Ferdinand shrugged by way of reply and removed his fangs. The doorway was barricaded by Harry Potter, Darth Vader and a ghost. Alexa and Ferdinand eventually got past them. Ferdinand lit a cigarette, and Alexa snatched one, holding it in her mouth for him to light. He asked how and, for that matter, where Richard was. The normally loquacious Mrs Ashworth replied tersely that her husband was fine, that he would be late as usual.

‘Oh, it is so cold.’ Alexa huddled herself up against Ferdinand, looking up into his green eyes. He put his arm around her shoulder and led her back inside, where Darth Vader started playing Shostakovich on the violin. ‘Dance with me, Ferdie.’ He placed his arm tentatively on her waist, as he led her around the dance floor. It was a sort of Viennese Waltz. If an octopus tried to do a Viennese Waltz. Spinning around in that ballroom, Ferdinand started to feel dizzier than he was already, and Alexa looked different somehow. Almost like it wasn’t Alexa at all. She flung her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his, and he held her head in his hands, kissing her back furiously. Her lips were so soft, like those of a twenty-one-year-old. For a moment, nothing happened. The fiddler kept fiddling, the drinkers kept drinking, the dancers kept dancing. Suddenly, Ferdinand was brought back to the present, to a sober realisation of what he had done. He opened his eyes, and in his peripheral vision he saw a sobbing bride scrambling up the staircase. In front of him stood a laughing witch, albeit a rather pretty one.

‘Have we met before?’ he asked.

‘Lucy Wilson-Knight,’ she replied, ‘And you’re the famous Dr Ferdinand Faber.’

‘Oh goodness, Lucy. Forgive me, I’m afraid I’m rather drunk.’

‘Yeah, we did tequila shots earlier.’ Did he? ‘You probably won’t remember this in the morning.’ But Alexa probably would.

Before long, the sun started to rise. Ferdinand took off his cape and walked down the garden steps to the beach. He looked out at the water, kicked his shoes off, and threw himself into the sea. Yesterday, he’d seen killer whales in that water. Today, he didn’t care. At least here there were no witches or werewolves, no vampires or undead brides. Yesterday, he faced his demons. No, he didn’t believe in that nonsense: his subconscious desires. For a minute he had really wanted to kiss Mrs Ashworth, but today he was very glad he hadn’t.

#short story #fiction #writing #writers on tumblr #prose #babsdrury #spiffybarbarella #writeblr #poetryblr #by Barbara Drury

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you-had-me-at-e-flat-major · 7 years ago

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Young Shostakovich looks like Harry Potter

indeed he does

#anon

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redliberte · 6 years ago

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For some reason I imagine the doe having the voice of the “everybody dance!” cloud from Rejected Cartoons.

if patronuses could talk

(some dialogue lifted from Wuthering Heights)

#snapedom #severus snape #harry potter looks like shostakovich

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yanxi · 7 years ago

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Ogygia, Elysium, Lyre, Centaur, Artemis!

Thanks for the ask!!

Ogygia: Describe your dream husband/wife/life partner?

Rhysand. But if there’s no Rhys then I’d look for someone who’s funny and has a similar sense of humour to mine. reads. loyal. gets me? like they know what I like and stuff? and understands my passion and like i want someone that would really spend time to get to know each other i guess? but also they’re passionate about stuff. has a goal in life? (i don’t) but also for physical traits then a bit taller than me and i don’t really have specific traits I look for (but seriously. the guys in my year. u g l y as h*ck)

Elysium: If you could have a superpower, what would it be?

i’d choose flight bc that would be so cool and also??? avoiding slow walkers yo

Lyre: What are your top three favourite songs?

perfect by Ed Sheeran, jazz suite no. 2: 6 Waltz II by Shostakovich, and a million dreams from The Greatest Showman

Centaur: Last book you read?

As in finished? Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Artemis: What do you first notice about new people?

I usually notice their eyes and their clothing

send me Greek Myth asks!

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rchrdbrrll · 8 years ago

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“<@NasuNeurotic> Can we just appreciate how much Soviet Composer Shostakovich looks like a depressed Harry Potter”

Source is https://twitter.com/NasuNeurotic/status/881189386242723840

cc @adventures-in-mangaland, @still-intrepid

#shostakovich #depressed harry potter #poor dude #so sad

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dreamsreblogs · 8 years ago

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Tagged by: @quatral

Rules: Tag nine people (yeah that’s not happening lol)

Relationship status: What’s a relationship? hahaha *sobbing*

Favorite color: Probably a light desaturated purple right now, but I love a few specific shades of pretty much every color

Pets: Until very recently I had a black cat named Lewis; he was 15 when he passed away unexpectedly. We still have his brother, a grey tabby named Jake - and recently got a white-with-black-spots half-pit puppy named Octavia (Tavi for short).

Wake up: Recently I’ve been getting up around 10:30. I am not, never have been, and probably never WILL be, an early riser.

Cats or dogs: Cats. Absolutely cats. I like dogs, but they’re harder and have so much energy and I have no idea what they’re thinking at any given point in time. I know cats like I know myself.

Coke or Pepsi: Coke. Pepsi has always tasted gross to me *shrug*

Day or Night: Night. The dark is calm and quiet and easier on the eyes. I can walk around and not feel like people are watching me. And I get all my best ideas at night - drawing is easier at night.

Text or call: That depends. Communication is so much easier to me over a call - but texting is so much less stressful if it’s someone I need to be careful around (and not sound like an idiot to). I’d rather text bosses / coworkers / student peers, but call friends and family I guess?

Chapstick or lipstick: Neither. I low-key wish I knew of a lipstick color that wouldn’t look stupid on me, but since I don’t really wear makeup it’d probably stick out no matter what, and I’d feel like a fool experimenting. Especially since it’s expensive. As for chapstick, I wear it when I have to, but for the most part I don’t like the oily feel of it.

City or country: Country. I like the quiet, and the stars at night. The bugs (praying mantises! milipedes! damselfies! lacewings!), the plants, and the freedom to be outside without feeling observed (usually). I could lay mostly naked in a hammock in the windy shade on a hot day if I wanted to! Without having to worry about someone being disgusted by my fat haha

Last book I read: Oh god I’m not sure. I go through like, waves, of wanting to read, and having zero interest in reading. The most recent wave, all I’ve read is fanfics. Before that I went through another dystopia craze, but got peeved off with like 4 different series and never finished any of them. I can’t actually remember what the last book I finished was... the last book I STARTED reading was Steven King’s Insomnia (which, I’ve read before). It was on my desk by my bed and I read the first chapter a few weeks ago.

Last song i listened to: Shostakovich’s Waltz #2 - which sounds incredibly pretentious xD I’ve been putting together playlists for the bot on a discord server, though, and was just listening to random stuff to see what I wanted to add.

Five facts about me:

1. I sometimes have weirdly vivid and comprehensive dreams. Like, to the point where when I tell people about them, they often think I must have consciously added details or plot points after-the-fact. I do often use dreams as inspiration for most of what I write or draw, but when I tell my dreams as-is, they ARE as-is. Honestly, unconscious me is a much better, much more detail focused story teller than I could hope to be while awake. I can’t take the credit. 2. I will absolutely always want to talk about headcanons and OCs for Harry Potter, Starwars, and Pokemon. Those three are my favorite universes- there’s so much leeway to do your own thing, but within interesting context. Talk to me about wand-cores and what your animagus form and patronuses would be. Tell me what race your jedi/padawan is and what color your light saber is and what your ship is like. Tell me all about your pokemon team and how you got into training and what you carry in your pack. I looooveeee themmmmm 3. I live within 4 hours of Canada - but I’ve never been there; the only time I’ve ever been out of the country, I went to Beijing China for two weeks. Also despite having traveled as far as China - I’ve never even been to the ocean. 4. I come across as really weirdly ‘random’ sometimes, but I think it’s mostly due to an incredibly short attention span. If I have a thought, it’s like I HAVE to follow that new thread. I’ll do this thing where, like, for example - my mom might say “Hey look a butterfly!” and I’ll look up and see this little white butterfly - so I’ll say “oh yeah!”... but then immediately my brain is off - that butterfly reminds me of a monarch we named Karma that we saved from a random summer hail storm - which makes me think about hail, which makes me think about bad weather in general, which reminds me of that time we lived in the trailer park and there was a tornado, and I was really afraid of tornadoes as a kid but one day I found a rock with a tornado pattern on it and I let myself believe it was a talisman that would protect me, but isn’t just “Letting yourself believe something” kind of weird? That gets me thinking about beliefs and religion, which gets me thinking about “okay but what sparked the big bang” and “what if that was the launching of our quantum “program” and higher dimensional beings are our “God”? Which just gets me thinking about the 4th dimension in general and trying to understand it. So I ask my mom “Do you ever think about the 4th dimension?”... but from her point of view the entire interaction was “Hey look a butterfly!” “Oh yeah!” *10 second pause* “Do you ever think about the 4th dimension?” I’m sure it seems less weird over the internet- firstly y’all don’t know what else might have drawn my attention to that new thought (did the tv mention it? did I see a post on my dashboard?), and also it’s probably pretty a fairly common thing anyway- but people irl have expressed a lot of confusion over how I flit from one thing to the next like that. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to backtrack and explain how I got from a song on the radio to that time I found a lightening bug in the grass with my peripheral vision when it only had really dim residual glow and hadn’t even flashed and how weird peripheral vision is in general, for example. 5. I get really upset or defensive if I’m feeling like I’m being misunderstood; especially if someone is telling me ‘how I feel’ or ‘what I think’ and I disagree. My point can be entirely irrelevant, but if I can’t get it across, I get really frustrated with myself. I’ll try to rephrase it a million times just desperately trying to be understood, but the more flustered I am, the less good I am with my words - and to the other person it looks like I’m just being bull headed about the point they THINK I’m making and repeating it over and over. If the argument ends and they still think I meant something I didn’t, I get really self-conscious of what they must think of me as a person, and will probably assume they never want to talk to me again and will tell all their friends about how awful I am. Sometimes I’ll apologize, but I can’t erase the mental image of them judging me for something I never even thought when I talk to them, so when I do, I often try to explain AGAIN at that point in time... and usually that gets them upset again. So usually I don’t apologize at all. But I also don’t usually try to go on as if nothing happened either, because I get all wrapped up in myself and become sure they hate me, so I don’t talk to them at all unless they talk to me first, or it’s been long enough for me to forget it happened (eg. at least a year). So... if we get into an argument where I’ve repeated myself a lot and then I stopped talking to you: I’m not ignoring you because I’m mad, I’m assuming you hate me and am afraid to talk to you any more because you might just be tolerating me (someone you hate and wish would stop talking to you) because you’re nice.

Tagging:

idk, @just-to-express-not-impress and @sonicega and @tuftyfluff Pretty sure everyone else I’d like to tag was already tagged by Quatral, or wouldn’t be interested in doing one of these anyway

#long post #about me #tag thing

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captain-cargoshorts · 6 years ago

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Shostakovich looks like harry potter lol

Composers and their dads

Johann Ambrosius Bach

Giovanni Bautista Vivaldi

Johann Georg Leopold Mozart

Johann van Beethoven

Franz Theodor Schubert

Louis-Joseph Berlioz

Abraham Ernst Mendelssohn-Bartholdy

Friedrich August Gottlob Schumann

Johann Gottlob Friedrich Wieck

Mikołaj Chopin

(Correct me if there’s any errors!)

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goodbyenothanks-blog · 7 years ago

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Week 4: Halloween

Sorry for not writing an entry for last week, I was swamped with work (and last week’s show didn’t really need a blog entry, I think (?)). Anyways, I’m back this week to bring you some spooky Halloween-esque music that should put you in the mood to put on your costumes and run outside! Hopefully, you’ll show restraint and wait until Tuesday. I hope you’ll doot along with some classic Halloween pieces and some interesting takes on the genre!

Fun and cute couple costume idea #1-- Pickled Richard from the hit T.V. show “Richard and Mortimer” and show creator Dan Harmon!

1. String Quartet No. 8 in C Minor (Mov. 3 - Allegretto) by Dmitri Shostakovich (Performed by the Brodsky Quartet)

Oh wow, look who’s back for the third week in a row. Real surprise!! I promise that I won’t have any Shostakovich for the next few weeks. But, I thought this middle movement from my Favorite Piece of All Time had a very creepy and unsettling feel to it. It’s a waltz, but a really demented waltz. The kind of music you might hear in an abandoned carnival coming from a sound machine that looks like it should be broken... OH NO WHAT IS THA-

2. Night on Bald Mountain by Modest Mussorgsky (Performed by the New York Philharmonic)

This is the one truly, truly cliched piece on the playlist. So cliched, even, that I felt obligated to include it. However, I think it’s a popular Halloween trope for a good reason. It’s really dark and foreboding, and the source material is about a witches’ Sabbath (foreshadowing!) on Kupala Night, which is a event in Eastern Europe in late June that celebrates the baptism of St. John. Kupala Night is a time when people engage in a “mischief night,” when people perform pranks and mild vandalism, in a very similar fashion to Halloween. It would make sense, then, that this piece invokes some of the same feelings we associate with Halloween.

Fun and cute couple costume idea #2- Music aficionado and rapper extraordinaire Cal Chuchesta and his roommate Tony

3. String Quartet No. 14 “Death and the Maiden” (Mov. 4 - Presto) by Franz Schubert (Performed by the Ehnes Quartet)

Some composers, faced with their own mortality, wrote some of the most enduring and powerful works ever composed. Tchaikovsky’s Pathetique Symphony, Shostakovich’s Eighth and Fifteenth String Quartets, and Schubert’s Death and The Maiden all fit this description. Music critic and writer Walter Wilson Cobbett views this fiery finale as a dance with death itself, modeled after the tarantella, an Italian dance supposedly used to ward of the madness and convulsions incurred by being bitten by a tarantula. I don’t really think it gets more Halloween than that.

4. Bacchanale by John Cage (Performed by Alan Feinberg)

In the interest of offsetting the popularity of Night on Bald Mountain, I present for your listening pleasure John Cage’s Bacchanale. I’ve come to really enjoy prepared piano parts in pieces, so I was very excited to listen to a piece written exclusively for it. This piece has all the fun spooky Hallow’s Eve vibes of the other pieces, with the added benefit (for me) of cultural obscurity. “Oh yeah, you like John Cage? Name a piece that he wrote that isn’t just 4 minutes and 33 seconds of silence.” Sometimes, it’s fun to pretend to be an obnoxious music hipster. Sometimes, I don’t even need to pretend.

Fun and cute couple costume idea #3- Harry Potter and Severus Snape!!

5. Symphonie Fantastique (Mov. 5 - Dream of the Night of the Sabbath) by Hector Berlioz (Performed by The Chicago Symphony)

Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique is one of the most interesting programmatic pieces out there, in my opinion. A young man falls in love, and follows his love to a dance, where he gets spurned and falls into a depression. He ventures out to the meadows to collect his thoughts, but they only become more dark and tortured. He resolves to kill himself, thinking that this young lady is is only love and does not love him back, by overdosing on opium. He does not succeed, however, and the final two movements of the piece take a very drastic turn. In the fourth movement, he dreams that he has killed his love, and envisions himself at his own execution by guillotine (At the end of the movement, you can even hear his head fall into the basket!). In the final movement of the symphony, which is the one I feature in this playlist, Berlioz writes:

He sees himself at a witches' sabbath, in the midst of a hideous gathering of shades, sorcerers and monsters of every kind who have come together for his funeral. Strange sounds, groans, outbursts of laughter; distant shouts which seem to be answered by more shouts. The beloved melody appears once more, but has now lost its noble and shy character; it is now no more than a vulgar dance tune, trivial and grotesque: it is she who is coming to the sabbath ... Roar of delight at her arrival ... She joins the diabolical orgy ... The funeral knell tolls, burlesque parody of the Dies Irae, the dance of the witches. The dance of the witches combined with the Dies Irae.

6. Spooky Scary Skeletons by Andrew Gold

Happy Halloween! The ƒ-hole will return next Friday at 10 AM on WMUC Digital, this time probably actually (maybe?) featuring John Williams’ March from 1941. Thanks for stopping by!

#wmuc #getlistenin #the-f-hole

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