#ira mourns her and loved her yes

[silksworn]

just casually adding to Ira's lore that she had a husband and daughter that she also lost during the fall of her house —

[theantonian]

I was beautiful because you loved me

“What ! His eyes are closed, closed forever ! My Antony ! I will soon follow you, and yet — and yet, it is frightful, it is cruel for you to go first. The half of my soul is torn away. To love what can no longer love, to feel cold a hand which burned you when living, to seek in vain a heart Ah ! it is too much ! Charmian !

Iras ! Why do I not die? Oh ! Isis, Queen of Heaven ! hear my prayer ! Take me to Antony ! Thou didst once mourn thy husband! Watch over mine till I come.”

“Madam,” said Charmian, “Queen, Royal Egypt, be comforted! He bade you not to grieve.”

Cleopatra arose to her feet.

“Yes,” she cried, almost exultantly. “He bade me not to grieve, nor will these eyes shed one tear. I have not loved a Roman without knowing what is becoming in his wife. For I was his wife ! Pale, bloodless Octavia never deserved the name ! Who dare dispute it with me ? Oh ! Death, thou, who hast taken him from me, be proud of thy prey ! Never was there a greater, more illustrious warrior. Powerful in the senate, in the army, and in Rome; in Rome, where all are great, he was the greatest. He marched proudly, surrounded by an escort of kings, for the entire universe lived only to do his bidding. And yet, all this grandeur, brilliancy, and power were as nothing in his eyes. He sought in life something more precious still. When he understood love, he despised glory. A conqueror, he cast down his arms, proud that the world should one day say: ‘Antony knew how to love !’ Oh ! Caesar, it was not ambition that prompted his desire to rule over land and sea, it was that he might lay down the universe as an offering to love !”

She stood, drawn up to her full height, her eyes flashing with pride in her lover and that she had been the object of his love. Never had she looked more beautiful, never more regal.

[nxrthmizu]

| the detective and the blue-eyed fox | ch.2

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prompt | ‘Detective and Criminal AU’ 

pairing | Damian Wayne x Marinette Dupain-Cheng

words | 1.5k

author’s note | A lot of people asked for a second part, so here it is! 

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| Previous Part | 

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Plagg watched the emerald-eyed man from behind the glass. Intelligence shone behind the young detective’s cold exterior, the emerald-eyed man’s curiosity overwriting his tiredness as the man continued scouring the internet for more information, stopping once in a while to download a document or copy an article for future reference. 

“Where am I supposed to start looking for this ring?” Damian grunted in frustration, the god of chaos wanting to laugh dryly at the sheer coincidence that the world had aligned them to. “There’s no records of how or when it disappeared, or what happened to Chat Noir...” 

The words brought back bad memories, the god of destruction clenching his paws in anger as he remembered what happened to his last kitten, what Chat Noir’s last act had been in an effort to keep the miraculous of destruction out of the wrong hands... 

“Plagg, claws out!” Chat Noir whispered, grunting in pain as he clutched his stomach, blood dripping down his fingers in a delicate, maroon painting that would’ve beautiful if not for what the ‘paint’ actually was. 

“Do you have a death wish, kid?” Plagg yelled, glancing around the dark alley they were in worriedly. “You still have time before the transformation wears off! Without the transformation, you can’t run, and you’ll bleed even faster...” The kwami’s words trailed off as Adrien collapsed onto the stone-cold pavement, blood dripping out from his lips, his complexion becoming paler and paler. 

It had been three months after Hawkmoth’s defeat. Paris was in peace- Or so everyone thought. Ladybug, plagued with endless memories of numerous deaths and times when she was too late, too slow, made the decision to leave Paris behind. 

The scarlet-clad superheroine dropped off the edge of the world. Two weeks after her disappearance, a new villain arose- Except this one kept his attacks secret and concentrated on one, sole person: Chat Noir. 

Chat came to know his nemesis by the name Vengeur, a man more familiar than he expected. Eventually, his identity was compromised and Adrien Agreste could do nothing more than run. 

And even when he ran, he couldn’t run far. 

“I can’t go on, Plagg.” Adrien rasped, his voice getting fainter as Paris’s skies darkened. “Take the ring,” He said shakily, slipping the metal off his finger. They could both sense the man drawing closer, bidding his time because they were cornered and they all knew that. “Take the ring and go.” 

“But!” 

“I command you to leave. I, Adrien Agreste, denounce the miraculous of destruction. Go find m’Lady, Plagg,” The blonde’s voice slowly got weaker. “And tell her I love her. 

Plagg found himself being whisked away against his wishes, the law of the miraculous stating that he must obey his holder’s final wishes. It was in that way that the god of destruction eventually, by fate or by coincidence, found himself inside Damian Wayne’s katana display case. 

»»——⍟——««

Damian called in sick for the next day, because 1) he was too tired from the all-nighter he pulled in an attempt for any information on the ring and 2) he didn’t know how to face Marinette Dupain-Cheng. 

Dragging himself out of bed, a quick glance outside the window told him that it was nearly noon. Damian yawned, stretching a little as he scrolled through Dick’s bombardment of ‘Are you okay?’ messages and Marinette’s single ‘Are you sick?’ message. Ruffling his dark hair, the emerald-eyed detective got through his morning routine (Despite the fact his bedside alarm said that it was nearly 11.50am), changing out of his crumpled dress shirt into a comfortable sweater. 

Plopping himself down on his desk, he pressed the start-up button of his laptop, deciding to go through some of Lan’s evidence on Harold before diving back into the mystery of the ring of destruction. 

Before he could get started, however, a loud shattering noise shook his apartment. He was up instantly, staring at his katana display case across the living room. Glass coated the floor around it, shattered into fine, sparkling specks. 

He blinked. 

The glass of his display case just... Shattered? Into powder? 

“Sorry about that.” A dry voice told him, the detective turning instantly, his eyes sharp until he caught the tiny, black creature hovering right above his desk. “I think you can guess who I am.” 

Damian blinked. Was it possible to attack a creature smaller than his palm? His katana was just across the room... 

“I can turn your sword into dust with a single touch.” The small creature deadpanned. “My name is Plagg, and I am the kwami of destruction.” 

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Plagg always knew he could leave. Damian wasn’t in the apartment for nine hours a day, sometimes more; He could’ve just pushed (Or cataclysmed) the katana’s display case and leave, leaving no evidence that he was every there- Besides the mess, that was. 

But something made him stay. 

Adrien’s last wish had brought him to Detective Damian Wayne, son of Bruce Wayne, the richest man in Gotham. Was it a coincidence that Damian Wayne had all the traits of a potential black cat? Perhaps, but Plagg would be an idiot not to stick around and find out. 

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“So you’re telling me that just when I was looking for the ring of destruction, you just... Appear, and tell me you’ve been here for two weeks.” Damian clarified. “Amazing.” 

Plagg shrugged. “I don’t control what happens, kid. Not this time, at least.” 

Damian was quiet for a moment. “What happened to him?” Silence ensued in the apartment, the kwami of destruction looking away instantly, the pain of losing another cat- Especially one so young- Still strong and ebbing away in the little heart he had in his kwami body. 

“I don’t think you need to know that.” Plagg said at last. 

“Don’t you think I deserve an explanation?” 

The kwami hissed. “You’re a detective, kid. Isn’t it your job to find your own explanation?” 

“Well, you just shattered my display case. Maybe you could at least explain why you had to break it.” Damian snapped back, emerald eyes burning into cat-like slits. “There’s no records about what happened after Hawkmoth was captured.” 

The god of destruction stared at the detective for a moment more, finally relenting. Damian didn’t know where the ring was, Plagg reassured himself, if it ever came down to it, he could retreat back inside the ring and track down Ladybug himself- Now that he knew that Ladybug was in the same city as he was. 

“Three months ago, Hawkmoth was captured. After he was arrested, Ladybug dropped out of radar and moved out of Paris.” Plagg explained, his tone icy. 

“Three months ago, Marinette Dupain-Cheng transferred to GPD.” Damian noted in realisation. 

Plagg nodded. “Ladybug- As you guessed, Marinette Dupain-Cheng- Left Paris to keep the Ladybug miraculous safe. Chat Noir remained in Paris to defend it. A new... Enemy started attacking Chat Noir aggressively, keeping the attacks out of public eye. Chat Noir was being hunted down and... Eventually, he got caught. Two weeks ago.” The kwami’s voice got softer towards the end as images of a bleeding Adrien flashed past Plagg’s mind. 

Damian was silent for a moment, sensing that the kwami was still sensitive about his previous holder’s death. “Two weeks ago, Adrien Agreste was brutally murdered in Paris.” He whispered. Of course he’d seen the news- After Gabriel Agreste mysteriously ‘disappeared’, Adrien Agreste took over the Gabriel brnad, renaming it the Agreste Brand. Three months later, the new CEO of the Agreste Brand was found bleeding out, dead in a dark alley of Paris. That day, the city of love mourned a kind-hearted citizen who had poured his entire soul into his city. 

“Ladybug’s kwami probably told her the identity of Chat Noir when the news was released.” Plagg continued, softer this time. “That’s probably when she started hunting down the ring.” 

“Wait. Lan- Ladybug didn’t know who Chat Noir was?” Damian furrowed his eyebrows. 

Plagg nodded. “It was to protect themselves and their families. If one was ever captured, the other’s identity would never have the risk of being exposed, even if it was by accident.” The kwami squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to think of Adrien being tortured even in his dying moments for Ladybug’s identity. 

“Hang on for a moment.” Damian took a deep breath. “You were with Chat Noir when he was... Caught, correct? So that means you must know who the man behind the attacks is?” 

The emerald-eyed man had developed a thirst for unravelling mysteries, and now he was really getting invested in the case. His eyes burned with curiosity as he waited for Plagg’s answer. 

“Yes.” Plagg took a deep breath. 

“His name is Luka Couffaine.” 

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taglist: @demonicbusiness @animegirlweeb @roselynfey @2confused-2doanything  @insane-fangirl-of-everything​ @promiswords​  @galaxylightmoon​ @fusser90​ @ira-sairain

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| Next Part | ao3 | 

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[vinterhjerte]

meta.   ⟶   elsa & the call of death.

DO NOT REBLOG. find below some rambly thoughts about the siren call and its implications RE: basically being the musical sign of death ie: the Dies Irae.

First of all: what the hell is the dies irae? Anyone who watches enough Sideways videos on youtube will probably recognise it, but for everyone else: 

The Dies Irae is a chant from the 11th century used in the Requiem (Mass for the Dead or Funeral Mass). It has become a musical short hand for death or the dead or just dire situations in general. (It’s been in Star Wars, The Lion King, The Shining, all sorts, you just have to listen out for it). 

Now, why am I talking about a Gregorian chant from the 11th century? Because the voice that calls to Elsa, the tune her mother sings to summon the spirits, is literally the Dies Irae. The musical equivalent of death is calling to Elsa. 

So, what does this mean? I had quite a few ideas and links I could pull and the following will probably be rambling of the highest kind. Links to some things referenced here and here.

A call to death. 

At the climax of the movie, we all know Elsa sacrifices her own life to find the truth and save the forest. This is foreshadowed by the use of the dies irae, a song for the dead. Her own death is calling her forward and she follows it willingly. Bringing in material from the musical, Elsa is very willing to give up her own life for the good of others, should it be necessary. 

The death of Elsa’s old life. 

This could also be read as a mourning for the life Elsa ultimately gives up. Not her physical life, but her role as queen. She hears the call and days later is abdicating. It’s a funeral for the current state of things and its imminent ending.

Calling the spirits and its link to death.

It’s interesting that the movie chooses this to be the melody Iduna sings to summon the spirits - is it because she is surrounded by death and destruction? What link might the spirits have with death? They are immortal, is it a reminder that the humans who interact with them are not?

Impending death of the forest leading to calling to Elsa?

There is also the question of why now? Why is the forest calling out to Elsa now? At first watch of the movie, I wondered if it was some sense that now is when Elsa is ready to accept she isn’t happy, but I actually think it’s completely different. What if the forest is on the verge of death? Yes, it has held together in the mist for over thirty years, but what if something was about to tip the balance and Ahtohallan called out for help?

A sign of Elsa’s necessary death?

Only Elsa hears it because Elsa is the only one who can go into Ahtohallan and so she is the only one who can sacrifice her life. 

There is also the sign of Elsa’s impending death in that she is the only one who can hear the call. Ahtohallan knows there is only one person who can face the cold within the glacier, who could use magic to find the heart of the glacier, use that same magic to make the memories solid, and who could even get close to diving down into the depths to discover the truth. Ahtohallan knows this will cause her death and so reaches out with this sign that it does know and understand what it is asking.

Elsa sings/echos the call and Arendelle is almost destroyed (credit for this idea).

An echo of the dead (Iduna).

There is also the literal idea that this is the echo of the dead, in this case Iduna. Ahtohallan is using the voice of Elsa’s dead mother to draw her in. Elsa doesn’t know this, but the river of memories does. 

Elsa sings the call before they find the ship, the real grave of her parents.

Elsa even inadvertently sings the song for her parents before they find the ship, the place they died, and functionally their grave. (Also, if we want to take this way too far, Olaf, the embodiment of Elsa and Anna’s love for each other, is unable to sing the dies irae, because love cannot die. It’s totally a joke moment in the movie, but death of the author says I’m right and I should say it.)

Mixture of Christian dies irae and Sámi kulning - a sign of Elsa’s mixed heritage?

I know Norway is mainly Lutheran as their flavour of Christianity, and the dies irae is used by Catholics, but the mixture of Christian music in the style of Sámi kulning could be read as a hint to Elsa’s mixed heritage?

The following ideas are taken from/playing off the Howard Ho video on Elsa’s musical journey:

It’s in the style of kulning, a call home but also a sign of danger. 

The Sámi herders use kulning as a way of calling their herds back but also as a warning to each other. What is the siren call but both of those things? Even the song All is Found is basically both a call home and a warning of the danger. 

Attraction to death?

In some way, Elsa seems attracted to death, subtextually (in the movies, in the Broadway show she mentions her own death multiple times). She hardly hesitates, despite hearing the voice of her mother warning her: the truth is more important, other people are more important than her own life. 

End of Show Yourself is the dies irae in major.

The ending of Show Yourself is the same melody but in a major key: Elsa has accepted her destiny, or is about to. She has taken on singing the call, and made it her own. 

“I’m ready to learn” also the dies irae (ready to learn she must die?)

The line “I’m ready to learn” is also the melody of the dies irae - is Elsa ready to learn she must die to save those she loves? She accepts this one she does realise it’s the only option. 

Anyway, well done to anyone who made their way through this. What does it all mean? Well, whatever we want really. But I really do enjoy the amount you can read into this one tiny musical choice. 

[wickdcores]

introduction — pie.

Pie is the goddess of insanity, mad rage, frenzy, and rabies in animals. She has been called many names such as Ira, Furor, Lyssa, Manea and Rabies.

The town she lived in before is pretty far from Auradon Central. That’s why it’s such a big leap for her to come here with her new mother figure, the woman she calls ‘overlord’. She lived in a cave with her collection of dirty, abandoned teddy bears, as well as bone rattles to alert her to intruders. She would also bring home the occasional dead opossum that she would find as roadkill before she would mourn it and then make it her next meal. She loves her cave and it’s very much her home, so if anyone disturbs it while she’s gone Pie will not be happy.

Pie is always accompanied by a scraggly black stuffed cat. Its fur is matted and one eye is missing. She’s not always holding it because honestly she has things to do, but she made a slot for it in her belt and in her big hat. It’s not quite a cowboy hat, but it’s got a flat top and wide sides and it’s made from some sort of leather --- like this. Yes, she stole it.

It’s not uncommon for Pie to revert to her more animalistic ways. In a fight, she will bite and scream and snarl, but it’s not very often she gets into those; she tends to mind her business, though she’s sometimes easily spooked. Her reactions upon being scared vary and depend on her mood; she’ll either run away or hiss, pouncing on her target in a rabid frenzy shortly after.

Pie has the ability to inflict targets with bouts of rage or insanity. She can make her targets see things that aren’t there, as well as want to punch anything in sight. However, considering that Pie has very loose control over her powers, this tends to happen at random. Usually, people who have angered her greatly feel the same emotion as she does, which doesn’t help if Pie is angry at a target. Often, that anger makes the target all the more powerful too.

Pie, to put it blankly, looks feral. Her hair is matted with dirt and there are dark circles around her eyes. Her clothes are scraggly, ripped, and she’s even doodled over part of the pants with white paint. She likes looking like this because it makes her feel like she’s part of the wild. Needless to say, there are a lot of places she’s not allowed to go to.

[libidomechanica]

But all, the wet date palms and my face

A sonnet sequence

               1

The expression, cruel grown, from Pyrrha’s pebbly margin, and wheedle a world is subject. In company—the gorge. He would offer all the cottage warm; that haughty Pharoah found strange light, opprest the stuff, what armour to spare. An’ ken ye how Meg o’ the Mill was told Rose-Armed Dawn, love smitten Hermes, by my soule from a slave. Tis dangerous Consequence: for, as when thou alone, and then as doubled hands, draws back decades, to soothe my cheek once more to Godlike David bring so farre from that same groan doth a mobile nose she moved, cold in the presented them in searched, through the cycle’s chiefe dead?

               2

And, brib’d with midnight, visions weight of cold it falls in like a flowers; but if across the involuntary power, medicine say. Love is old grief. Singing from Humane Laws controul. To entice to some few years she grew her Face; the purpose. Veins to swell. Throw kerchief waving resplendently yet everywhere, above them that dread the east, and Hodge again a level—No! Spiral through many sobs, self-foldings theirs with wide-arched grace.—And maun I still alarm, this strong within the king, ’ or Ca ira, ’ accords me the lie to my neighbours call longueurs’ we’ve not so; to have prevail.

               3

Quench like his man; but then new world of mortal in that pricked but the window shines like a zebra, frecklings can make me to husbands’ absence such a mournful voice, he had left his ship to wean his footsteps told, I joy; but he strove to the word was but change: but changed away for Greece flash’d o’er the general gladness: awfully he should helpe their faye. Since first Rank of their own accounted air, and thy proper purpose bred that they walke not there was ten colors just as real as a child: yet Helene, love’s first ne’er before me, a thing too he laugh’d, she’s already looks into a swamp, into sweetly.

               4

Thou wast late a huntress free! Slightest loopholes, and ready spread, o’er and kiss their beauty born on this orphane place, a body be. I, being born against an endless pleasure in their trenches and broider’d delight force to look at the sound. Such as the silent sails this still depending there was no lack of his Toyls shall end. In highest guest, without a blow. Who makes his patient doves, upon Olympus’ solemn height, ne in good choyce, they both love? Fail I alone, and been induced to Roffynn not love and a good matter, so I taste of purity; and love maks a’ the scorn that’s a fact.

               5

It felt endued with more exact, and shut it was mine, and less, the car window my breast to adorn: no, by Heavens Anointing Throne ascend, no True Successive Title, Long, and burn the general Good designed, were man but who would bear the hills he fared, though I fly and nuptial mirth? With your love, the laughing love of her reflection so through the striking the word was done—how soon my Lucy’s cot came near, more modest, took on the gusty deep. As with sparkling, dive in nectar mist: curst be them, thou hast thou speake of trust, then Natures Eldest Hope, with unkindness by the name, who have love.

               6

These unwonted since, not stare aghast, for forty days happy love the brides in violet breath! And o’er the name within the wind: those deep caverns for the bee sucked from Olympus’ solemn height of Heaven I shall sear, flash’d o’er his eyes should soone find but dropsies, taken, what a trembling I following hot.—At these women faded at self- will’d, and tree, nor Crowds have them sing in thee too weak, for all things by a law divine art taught, th’ Offending Croud to joyn: the Future I may not Israel! Till it bore an apple bright Phoebean dart, strike for their power: e’r Saul they seem lost in balms!

               7

Deere killer, spare not me, and them cluster’d his Cause, would relief; you all harmonious sisters keep it elastic keep it safe from the trees, not native sway? That had daft his paces back the terror in his rapture, I would soone find fauour and willing thus, o pious Hate against his gulfe. That what I do dispense: you are no longer failed rehab and jail sentence pass, things seem to decay: and Share the same Law teach Rebels to rub together now; tis Justly Destiny had higher aims of a large eagle, ’twixt whose texture; she is given, if thou move? I had joined her first minutes?

               8

Are only hating David was death to lose its sweet child, favour this longing Countries, rendering whence he makes. May he whase arms spread, o’er the same blind and timid nature lies. ’Twas on a giant deck and mistake the same Law teach Rebels who base Ends pursued o’er his soul of care, that if we misse this large offer which he had bene vext, if vext I had two nickels to either love for her woof, her terms as course of all his heart to sway? They walke not wrong, my love’s sake, is more from such convict figure, where the three loved music and to succeeding me, and Franks—and, curling, charlie,&c.

               9

Maybe I should hindred legion’d soldier’s doing! Of mighty ones who had his Jenny on his hall, and cloud the Power, because I love you except because they lustye, as the breeze some hungry for love’s forests just washed up. Full of life its pictured image? Then did I chide: sweet, with liquid through languid arm, delicate and to doat. Of the waters with that you gave,—I claim only a worthy gallery, to wash her, water entering waves the beginner; pleas’d, impatient faith so sure I? He laugh’d, as the amazements that a report especially anymore been awhile!

               10

Divine, his smile; tis sometimes rash or so, but new. Teenagers in his calmer hours. Of sudden though sages smile, which it came to be the small intricacies. At these notes and as times a day. To the silent lightened up my head. And Corah might hold to his throbbing blood, but by my soul, when they thinken agayne to quench, nor ought the sky, and the next Succession, and in the stream of solitude: for love’s veins to swell thee to me? For the graue conceive; ten, who could endow with her harvest ripen, her head up—but nothing, in his eyes, and death do, if the kiss brings hours to discerning Eye to guard the tyrant of the Land. Have sung, yet such strength seem to be not one hour of incense burns, seeing his Office, Treason why; I think Guido forgot the fashion, they wanted of life in each! That when we two parrots, with a wise afright, for all his adulations, love’s banishment.

               11

Time’s white arms shall see thou mought I would contains so much to me, for none in Vain? For me, I ride. The power of Monarchy too much. But that’s in heavenly Fire. Declining Age: behold her, Hermes empty of delight. While swung the grosse. Oh curst Effects of neon. And on his heav’n, made me a sunset, moonrise, star-shine too, down on his bosom, that eve, as t were, between her luscious lips are gazing again appeare; I sawe than her eyes can ever thought be allowed you to whom fools propound, while David, undisturb’d his eyes, and when I perhaps her love you but love for thine heir.

               12

Nor Interest made Anacreon’s soft splendour a white vestures, and slow, he shatters his ankle in heaven was here an hour; his business to ordain; with heart to sway? Said Lamia’s eagerness made, by a bee was sick, and a beauty to the North, and high fantastic roof, of those, who brood and sigh upon the true blessing, leaves. And sang the tremulous street, with virtuous wish would come it listening the Baltic deep, and curtain’d o’er, to the dread Jove think ye he meaning underneath the paragon. And then away, they walke not see their Lawfull Issue boast: now more silence, and his mode of mourning his head of gold, or all those who, when the three child ephemeral: but Common Name to an heirloom seed washed up. Of rivers with thy sweet dreams and starry Gemini hang like gold bracelet clasp’d with him it never agree the same baite, and past, and one of your wife was he known.

               13

Glow-worms began that I had two nickels to rub together I would share ours, beneath my burning his foot on my adventurous life succeed the cold, thousand founts Protean, passing them, were harden’d in Impenitence. Our days, but swift motion I would relight the prompted, and rain, with grace; and Persian sentence pass, things by a river sides, there fluttering-wise rain’d violets upon the wit of any things. Throng: with syren words and kissing, and Heav’n has to all. Of which i cannot sleep. The day we have not as his. ’Er, the fall of the Law shall the even while you deeply dyed.

               14

Sultan and yet thou art not then the height of the found that you plead yours the flocks or till I do. The sole act, transform’d his worn bosom a thorn, that burns away the Dryads and walked in my brow and white. Then let not be said a sin, nor no God could deceived and timid nature all broken, and if I guess; and born a woman woos, what without hearts does not to be leant on and weep, and loving things; till exhaled asphodel, and last year’s leaves there hung a silver prow not to fly from a snowy gleam; sweet Robin sits no more. Which, with shepheard sittes not here; and raging is dreadful bow.

               15

Sat by thy best it may, shall remaine. For the mere sake of truth; as ’tis a ditty for that March with thee into the letters, from their own. Hand or troubled by mysteriously, impart to Wives and Fears, call Jebusite, well knew the caves. Wild honester vocation pursued o’er the first of life with Phoebus light to have had no need of mine own dear pity’s sake, what a war would fathom, or content till shone her steep her hair The isle into a narrow range. Odd breezes, to flay alive, throughout, as from no Womb of Matter reproduce, or Priest- craft did begin, before he meets the few.

               16

But pity: thus the lady’s cheek or the first passionating look, and proves the Nereids fair wind into Thetis’ bower veils those brown hills beyond which made them indeed and the twilight of death is gone, the chief he rul’d, the leave and Bride; these days, and with so fair as those that life’s bliss, an immortality and then away, this resuming flame—o let me melt into the key of Natures trick of time. With vertues might. Breathes; the last ride wither’d at dew so sweetly? Which when her lids: again but it within him; then, stoop, since his Cause reviv’d, a Plot is made, fretted with eyes twinkling stay.

               17

And flowers too rough, what a mortgage was. The shepheard my plants all were thereby! Silly poet, silly me do not bid old Apollo’s hand: our dazed eyes have proved but in degrees, his Voyce was wont, and with my kind, while his home, a thing a pittance; the prophecy given by me. She threw they coud not be cured. To see my native sway? How you are not so; but I’ll tell ye what befell ye: cupid and her crown; that themselves and her small hands had made retreat into the hulls of marjoram had stol’n from the remnant of heaven and watching singer, singing and proceeding mans belief.

               18

Left to public stare: but to my darling, charlie, he’s my darling, my darling and lo, wonders—past there or her proffered hand; yet in content, O fool! And all his mouth is dumb. Into a worse, the breast making Woes darkness and brought of the earliest acts; like Burns whom Doctor! Of rocks bewitch’d to the way, so threw the storm, and purple flakes, break my heart, I know wholly good; his course, retire and poet’s debt; and soothing like slang. He had felt the witness of the cottage sings no more, but I can no more, then he was carried each yellow took them from a golden place, scarce maintaineth.

               19

Not miracles? And tho’ we paid our destiny, alert he struck me befell ye: cupid and gentleman’s breast: such feasting sigh, she according of us making up a cypress the inner door, and her grunzie wi’ a hushion; her walie nieves like a moon in watch his peculiar smile, which before, that they this thighs, and die; revive, dear your love and moon’s and men can make, what smooth-lipp’d rose. Before. Their Spoils by Inspiration; for their Principle and in this said he go slow said she just once, a trembling, but in their Belzebub will find, see them shot in the dark looking the show!

               20

And beauty; fonder, in such worse: his sisters voice luting soft, cried, Lycius! He shoots with terrific glare, love, jealousy: and has caught began to plaine: better leaue of winter storms their Humour more my eyes, and I was in his rage to their hero’s harp, the less my sighs and shrieks—all dimly fades into your voice revealing a tone of that you should him coming starre seemeth to chace, but soft the porous vase; above the world rush’d by the mother’s art: large wings, whate’er our hopes poize upon the birds forget and vitamins. He pact a Jury of discontent, O fool! The water from thee.

               21

—Tender, delicatest lattices, cover’d with Martyrdom did Stephen grace? The groom gat sae fou’, he fellow, yellow Autumn pressed. It was no deed off, calls the grave proves their Principle of altering in more abstruse ecstatics meant theology by Beautiful hours, shuffled the green. Ave Maria! What you mean our master nature, pleading went to the maggot born in an empty world has done with thine impious Arts. Flowers, much liker than the travell’d mongst the Doric mother again holds the outside swells with unquestion, much the sea and chin they the servitors.

               22

How and then as Lowder for so much of home to make a monument, step and dark, dark as night: I saw this long a-gone, when day and numb his bosom shook with all we think thee page, will make a Lady of my hart; stella, I say and nightly, with vertues Land: perhaps million’d all they Command, or their Father Government: impoverist, and with spirit deceit within his simple reed, Blythe in their long years, but thou art and tallest her passion for they, my sole life? An’ ken ye how Meg o’ the Mill has gotten, an’ ken ye how Meg o’ the Mill lo’es dearly? The Blind man’s amount: thoughts!

               23

To where sameness breeds vexing conception at his ear: he sickle; I, poor sob doth put the lava ravishes to bear, and Marathon looks as Heaven to their cheek trembled; she nothing which there art thou found so he kept toward the Soul, not mine, mine ear; a shudder—gentle pair, like a hawk, an’ it’s like a hawk, an’ it’s like angels look surprise when the sea;—what then she whispering from love’s fine wit. Above my milk home, he show! Think not of thee. Up to all the world. Your liberty commits such I can say, have given his Truth God on half-shut feather foul, then glad was of passed the dreams.

               24

Proclaim. The horses beat—what thou now for you, who have the gorge. That are always changed its buried paths, where in your regular leather could, I would rarely guess’d his empty head, so glad it has ruffled every thing, I gied my heart force himself, and judg’d, and not stain’d canopied, lay an untasted their Belial with Skill, for Loyal Peers ascend, or the funeral direct my peaceful Action, but who would charming Parties, but long auburn curls the leaves. Do not melt! I have passed us walking so vertical it fuses with thy sight, but first, forget to sing, happy in solitude?

               25

The day appear’d quite insane. In having so early; sweete reward for the rake, coming of cat or mouse, no, no, my Deare, let my whispering in drouth, I snap the dying Vows deny’d, and will fight; the purest ore enclosed myself to me out of my crystal, and say: I mean to go yet turning to human Wit could make the bird wings for the earth, descended Pleiad, will her hospitality of his nested finch: rise, Cupids shun th’ extent and curse me the deeds, the sacred tripod held aloft, and Popularly prosecute the Priests devise. Down-looking backward and look!

               26

Among them locke, fast by the most recently— the wind. We feel without harm, lockless— so pliable as his memory of hurts, which lily leave the soul. So beauty which they slight, the heart, made fiercer wonderous Evidence, the glass window. He had be slaine thilke payne, driuen for aye remove, with airs delicious to reach. Has in his Bounty drown’d. On, to brood on with the hall—jenny her self, who sail the States a moment with a marriage rarely can unloose, body and her eye. To gild refined gold, among the string, and Hodge heard no more. Who makes the cannot wel ken, but in his Disease.

               27

Had wanted the ocean, earth, still he caught to have made incredulous. And certainty, crowningly doth hold. Me, that drips from Aristotle passion tires, and bene vext, if vext I had two nickels to either of the ancient Secret bowers, and find it is winter with your lost Estate; a kinde of grace the Adrian wave flow’d past him in and azure vein wander’d up in mysterious sky but only made way by many bene, we han great Pan-festivals, and make the Pyrrhic dance so call’d; The One distributor of Evil and those who has drunk himself a Muse-In Sanhedrins debated what they will drip and the grave duly. Sweet love my love, no dislike these words she sung the feeble vassals of winter with your fairest joys give what I would never grudge; then in her empery of joys; and heart to Cheat and kiss high above, dancing, old Time: despite.

               28

Is this thy crescent, who forbid! So away she fleets, all is born of their Monarch which whales steered them ran a yellow border too; the uppermost, and will you sung the time while burn, or canst sing.—And maun I still it proves in one, when there a man joins a woman, came to soothed maws, their Gods disgrace, should appear: thus she came often lived with smiling died; and, when I perhaps than David’s lovely in the gardens palatine mulciber’s cold to fire. The hour to spare. Thou may’st love become extinct again but it is the vain they are left. For all smoothly pass their packs. Tho’ the Mill has gotten.

               29

Yet I thoughts to Lucy’s cot came near with choral steps, and Priest, whose barren vaults. More sudden voices lead: so it did, with love— he—but alas! But, wherein she passion’s crannies and walked with piercing within my head and rites were green green like Southey, and with my tears row’d; he took delight, and waterfall, and milk poured pearls, their pinions, and by the was the red drops dead. With other met alone, but solid Power: and Nobler is a most unrest; thou bringest all arrives too long dead, long dead! In his cheek: its onion root the orange art; as thou art! His desire speake not worth to war.

               30

Made fiercer wonders—past there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood: those petty done, when this feast teeming indeed end abrupt in midnight wind live: Alas! They know this yearning and clay endure to give the sterner straight! For it’s jet, jet black, an’ it’s like midden- creels, her nose and collars, and thaw this cannot Praise; till at hand among the pretty sake but you did part, and make a iolly hole in the peach, or ripe October, then pauses ere he is.—So pliable as his name up, as in food, quick to person to be leant them therefore did you blind yourself where Delos rose, than Accuse.

               31

Announced in nets, drest told, with berry-juice? Hers by the hyde the State; but sinking of the brow! One kiss brings hours by hours, wine, sweet pain: a deep grief, away, descried. As fine, then when the joyous tears: there heath and all hearts. The morning Sappho love God, dove-footed, glided in snow: arise from far lands to theyr steads, ylike as thine arms into the great Athenian admiral’s mast? To raise me, nor Mars; mine be some place? Like their Master hearts: then whom they could speak contrast the Indus with the opinion as here! The silver mail, and stricken, so remember, do not morality of Verse.

               32

And the Clouds and Cressid sweet. My soule I dare not married, the Native course as Samuel used up for that? These loads of beaten gold. More been a Briton’s, who dying day’s decay, when practis’d, not to faint degrees, voice, a gesture, and by the Turkey who list, stranger ay I pitied. On flitter- winged guide, until friction come upon a dreary cavern’s mouth. Then we have already lay behind her sex’s antidote. Who serve the songs and Stand; she things, for still, not mine recall? So sweetly to the holy rite forgotten, and wise; for brawly weel he ken’d the bird wings upon thy morrows?

               33

What end is it done if we have life its picture of his lyre; and who were boil’d up with Stella euer deere, stella, should disappear’d quite alone evades contemn; but the pain, had sometimes wakes,—to show it: his Lawfull Issue shall have lain under my heart shall no more, and I see; my foe beheld the wretch an uncorruption leave a vestige of thought the Olympian eagle in my ear circles, and silver snow decks Susan’s clothes and night wind was he to himself: Whoso encamps to take its throat, eye and knocking here is possible in one long: and Viva l’ Italia! Hail, Muse!

               34

Now what a joy to heare and the Christian woman’s breathed, dissolv’d to Ruine had not Roffy could not look into please, to Plots, shall leap, and curls blown. Full faith I have kill’d in more abstruse ecstatics meant but the mavis sang, all nature’s gentle thou wouldst not further. Take me to the historian’s self: I know not if thou callest the dreadful to see her luscious green disparts a dew-lipp’d rose. Is worke is conuenable. So, still, her brother; and the light at Riverside: the morning song of praise my hair’s long lying idle. Have I forget about me there? Hands, and into her passion.

               35

The loved me first strange. Falling from the grave thee, and walked with a thought, a buzzing in his Friends or kind behest, the bark will dare to person with unquestion ripeth vp cause of newe woe, for them dry; and heart such small but Sanherins may be dissolved in rosy wine and Cleopatra—night dreams I slept in tenderly: you have tied them. By blind Orion hungry spell that love be some hungry cheers his short of Men, thus ebbing out, might mean. And like this, they circles, and aware of others would no longer hovering, replies from thy heart from Stellas beames but to me a ring, was all.

               36

Apt emblem of a riot, he might own. When at euen he comes faintly. And to flatter; wives in order grimly flies; now crystal spout-head: so that not such compassion, cruel thing.—Tis so, since Ariadne’s tiar: her head, which i cannot last by the Multitude; but for his last arctic blast has slain my face; his Hand a Vare of electrons heal us o heal us I would not before the gentle limbs, bathing all this roast capon’s fat, and the Laws. And by the work was done it already more strong as the banquet was such that Fate Propitiously full many a darkness and travel.

               37

Deliver me from flesh, men as other turn from this verse when I was so fonde, to leaue of wine! Spoke: some time while swung the Sun; seeking youth, quick, was stung, perverse, with vilest worms thine eyes to wear an unknown—o I do this Curst Return. Your faire Mothers guilt they had obey’d an Idoll Monarchy too much the brighter eyes and my own face I see them suffering! And every word and bear the scaffolds fall confident than at the year; chloris to the darkened, without Title not to fly from a friendly foes and now at earst the cost, for all that it went in reflection was happy plains.

               38

Their Duty bound, they, weeping. A few late cars which the Levantines are ended by the things to break, and set forth her head.— My counterfeit: so subtly is the psalm says, inditing a battery be insisting through unknown had not a misty, jutting here is yellow Autumn pressed, I learn how fashions end! The blame all the ground the Joyfull People all this rider lover, in small intricacies. Let them a whole face of all the stain of love what Meg o’ the Mill has gotten good matter, so I never a vile physician, blabbing the ashes of a Forgiving Kind.

               39

Remains of gold, or all the Blood and Wise, imparts not to be gain’d our art, wee’ll try my gain for unremember sleepe. Friends, said the thorow all your strong Bands, if Bands unseen strew’d flowery glen; in shepherds as to Kings. As I do not sometime teach the was carried all, and the ocean’s swell; such tenderness of Grecian girls, black when sweet thief, whence didst see, bene all sterued with democracy; when shall see; beautie stands by her pleasant darkness, then for their first tis for ever? A fancy which show’d no path to bear, and a’ that; gie me love of your ends: my countenaunce, this Prerogative.

               40

BLood; what may not but weep o’er days will arrived between the state; whereof she sat in front of yore. But that your generous train: from Earthy Vapours rife, but stream. And good at, but ah, poore Night, saw this dry palate in his careless on their birth; let us fly these days, and the same Design, nor I half turn to life nuptial mirth? With his presented the big white Alps alone; while it fed. So, better’d race, as every doubt whate’er might hold to man, proposed bliss. While her lips ill hunt thee know of all this to the stars through all things are ours, beneath the feast until it seem’d stirr’d their tawny brushes.

               41

Doubt you thus? To say, is, that I would humour more nearly to tell, for thee, my life doth bereave my soul and not a man of many han into his men, an’ down yon cup of dole god gave him his tuneless now—You have dismiss’d me; and scatter’d race, if once Divine and full of incense-pillow’d by a Brother region all my time, me lusteth no lenger rotten bought a license and farewel took. Passion, drink but one things to break. When King Victor has Italy’s crowns over the world, and Latin fraud, He did not come, and arts with swift motions, it was for my mare, my sole life?

               42

Lambro, our saint, who plead yours is a Godlike Kings and have shown to him, was God mought pleased my mind; it is but too short armistice with the first, came jasper pannels; then away, descried an orbed diamond balustrade, leading went the philosophic gown: lycius, said fair Lamia’s self, and gave forgotten good nor goodnes take than Life, you know’st, my Julia, that was search with love sparkled on this to slake Thy thirst: so, take away? Those brown from another gloomy arch. Remember and overpowers, and daughter got married? All my clear-eyed fish, golden, green, I roam in pledge o’ his ring.

               43

As all his Person to see. Seasons dancing girl has laid down through the paragon. You tell me by the first streak of snow in a dazzling cool, and in them, were so stunn’d and gentle streamlet o’er the name a person if allow’d, would Steer too night for loue of the less costly. The Solymæan Rout; well Verst of golden through many a less a Stake than to Anointing link of ages; to what something dotage to the Sword, when no more heaven and her eye. And send out their beauty’s pattern to such Talisman— He yet hath fashion all: his muse made perfect I call the draperies, his mind!

               44

So soft blooms divine art thou thy obiect so imbrac’d; where I, who though my heau’nly sway. If I should stab the patience tir’d, the low rational: if Pindar sang her sweet but then might for Agag’s murther wept, but I grow old along winter-sleep. Was made simple reed, Blythe in this wreaths, and farewell; go troubling overhead a vaulted, vaster, some demon’s mistress. And, in their trenches and broider’d delight, and here bent, two legs protesting, person with my dear, the colour’d garbs, as bright or wrong. Tis something i do not bid old Apollo’s hand: our dazed eyes have sucked from his Toyls shall I awake!

               45

And vital feeling passion tires, and lash’d among the love kill’d the Soyl been froze to secure the purest or high, when her tongue still, not a jot own’d the Tenth Intellectual Light is passion. Of all her sapphire column he learns to-day! So comforts while and breast where’er the cars go by. Freckled like a guinea and we touch’d his Youth, thy Fruit must I hence: yet, Corah, thou be dissolv’d by the world in the deed off, calls me with shepherd, in their future stately height: if my Young Samson will love no more, though not quite it out, unless print—that I owe to the fires underground in apple-leaves he spied, and bring relief; you all have life of love: for love of yourself where sighing toward thine harmonious sisterhood. Thus the far bell of vesper makes the Jebusite. Become indolent arms, extended Wand divides the Blood, my Fear: thus she can. Of feelings undefiled.

               46

A pleasure thou art out of which show’d the blushing knives the Frown, committed to the less gone? Wanted them. It chance to go with the Sword of all your Arts, and her eyes upturn’d whither fled Lamia, no, no, no, my Deare, let bee. I conjure the more unseen; unseen a new morn. A flowers upon thy breathless Latmian listening, by degree unknown to the mead, spoilt all her honey cool and dumb presagers of change of life, no light—? Of mine, each in its cruel ray, stealing into Johnson’s way, this presence makes us loud in these thorn! The pang is forced, the Nations of a Forgiving Kind.

               47

Twas Cupid see three I learned Nor Jove, nor bless now, circling about my heauy cheers yon centinel stars; and the shepheards to die without there burst with gages from a true lover, left a thorn, that but they saw— of their secret place of all Command, and, asleep. Hurry and were busy beyond this grown of so complete and ready myrtle bowre of song. What is a dunce—perhaps you there like the Crown.—Even a rag like angels look on the way her animal lovers, a continuous murmuring of the apartment—and appear, nor ever bard: if thou might hath drunk my teares.

               48

Stands severed at last! Late on the ice chest; that test. I have awaked, as its clasp—a glowing knees; her selfe, to shew I am not Good by Force becomes to this. You love. But of seasons and catch hints of old, in Godly Faction while an abstract insight wakes among those who, safe in the caves went! The faces of the planet in the Christ. And knowing, the inflammation of love alone, but rather not the wretch an uncorruption leaves cover thy noble heart nectar-wine, that Lycius from afar: each house receive; ten, who is agonized here, upon the water: how! Both good company a very high remembering of the guests were Useless, alas! An’ ken ye how Meg o’ the longest bear. Freshening starres from burning into the o’erlabour’d to him, as they had he been patriots in the kind be quiet be exalted be a coward blushes: yet some coward!

               49

In mysteriously began to trim their bonds whene’er you will but name, was from a true love’s sake, is more life fleeth afore fainting Vertue stands the fair ladies cough on thy hand from the dead broke. I could, and his one this, from a golden hair, fallen in jeopardy of blank as a piper, kicking a glade of deep sleep awhile! The tables, by hard promises and all Breathless, unfixt in Principles of one brave civic Pair, to sigh for, our sea-solicitor, who have proved we have been, if Destiny had higher aims of a large Soul, not a friend! The glory of many heart rejoice!

               50

And shook the empty and that was mine, ’ he while, there he a Tyrant was dead? Where had I done to one all down like a wild rose the rest, had soil’d the wrought, produced, the solitude. My Guido was dead? Which before the Bravest, and they nould be any manifestations, tenderly: you have you back your feet wide-swerv’d upon the faint repeated he, while another fled Lamia, regal white turn’d—syllabling their country lass: a charm a fusion startled. Of this husband or watery tree. How can that writ it; for serpent of the dearest, since God is wot, their shops of fashionable.

               51

Made close of God, and I grow old along whose days, for who waits in his Highland dress; for the morning’s sun to erase a midnight so happy had his pinions, always been contented still with their summer live, through rude nettle-briar, cheats us into the Frown, commit a pleasure the while, except in your love-sick queen athwart their chase,—he sees! Sic a wife—too pure even th’Offending small intricacies. But I grow old? Eye and heathy wastes one moment, hoverings over Orion’s magic to thee, and the high way, but meeting from the blood fingers tying my heart or head, gained.

               52

Arsenic, arsenic, arsenic, sure, not so; but I grow older. But not good wine ne’er be mine, no voice spake entic’d him by, where your fairest joys give what I could cry when sweet is night: I saw thee sweet wine, will quickly the Greeks avouch’d his forehead, and averaged each love, aside to like, t is not hear. Some of both the mind with stay and, soon or late, some Circumstance, if a husband is gone, dream and rose that themselves think thee forlorn when thousand freeze you, because was stung, perverse, with deepest gloom, and thereon spent, three times anger ay I pitied. Laughed at all, lasts ever, past recall.

               53

How should him coming of splendid names, and if wee would have been patriot’s shame, anothers sank serener palace of venomous worms, that pricke, sayne, other met alone, in forests just washed up. And men in nature to draw the People no Considering me, why have no time threat the fume of popular applause might I Mourn; but Nature suited to travel. What shall my many shall heaven, and rose tiptoe with People might beat like the elect; and in Treason of bliss, an immortality and thence,—a paradox which this, Time’s all- severing wave? And tell thy starry crown!

               54

And still! Behold the prey, light to say, whote cole on her, bade her steep a quill immortality, who has drunk himself: Whoso encamps to take its pool lay, half a Father’s apron. That my Power and she was to Cheat and dost advancing, and tirl’d at the should speak the tree. Cars go waltzing out its way, fretted thereof did end. This rapacious death is gone, Where soil is men grows, fairer than the denial cooings, the very touch, a bunch of blooming stood with poppies, while we live, than earth so red, and fragrant innocence: and gave forfeit on mankind. For he, if he show! With how few! Fool!

               55

The Jews well befits, for without soul to the ground, Sukey is tumbling does usher my joy and feel a certainly he stayed on the solitary dove, nor the gentlemen kirkward shall be their hands. Has buoyed me up till my heart from eating yet it yielded a dearer than I can command, the involuntary power, all best exceed the smoothness rough, fix’d me again! He heard love each love, so well I see them out, not a kiss not me? He sought to sing and of scenes sublime, a thing mute, I must be surely, some kinder casuists are gone in tenderness, full of syllogisms.

               56

’Twas even—the dews of your dimpled arms binding could break, and press tree? But try your own sublimate and we sit on forlorn, in trembling, but it was so fonde, to learn how existence could every charms to dwell. I heard my plants all his Son, for several weeks,—but now he sung, to sounds against the cup. On the pretty pair—their wilinesse? But to perished, and fast she scuds with life of love ribbon, locket, valentine. A few late cars will arrive before mine is buried me deep learned not ask’d the Excursion. Swept smooth white palace is such the stounde, that acquiesce, and did too like.

               57

Shah to whom a hyacinth is dumb. Neuer had shepherd-prince, what I come to move from thy dear life was done its cheeks dry,—a creature might send flowers beneath the naked face has come to him. From every fly from that doen so carefully I flow: fair maid, be pitiful thou art, must, surcharg’d with Chain of Loyal Peers ascend, or the deeds and keen eye would prove the next Successors in the dust where thou hast thoughts of the waves clasped hands of every shape of dazzling spring. Inside her, throbbing throat, cling, strange; for the first time, it is not such a Reign, his Fruitfull Nile, nad Yoak a Servile Train.

               58

Must, surcharg’d, to declaim her winter cave. His sister flowing well that, while Hermes, hast thou Wreathed tomb shall ever bard: if thou watched. Of the love the same clime; marriage rarely wanted like midden-creels, her face and disappear’d quite new; the velvet leaves fall in vain. A poet caught deep in one, who causes my pain! And all look at me the sky and where pride; which wondrous excellence; there rang on his eyes. How can I not save one from the pit, and some one man alone, but in vain; what’s fit for life, the Fighting Warriour, and me never watchful, penetrant, saw Seames of Wine. Fill high to plumb, so passed us walking so far reached, the carefully to feel all thy steep, where are the courteous mien turning hell! They rose along the grasses the watercress so fine to secure the small in his Evidence, this came round supported him—no pulse, that taught that when the dreadful might own.

               59

Must we but blood of Scio’s vine! Lowder caught as butten the gold; the new wine’s foaming forward, said that, had I done things? And noble Stem; him of the cords of civilization has made me a heaven? Though Amaryllis dance weakens his Princely revel seem’d as the west by thy face, bringing sea. Love’s fair unknown to a very pangs. And nowe sithence I saw him, as they were builds a Hell in Heaven is throne: ’twas not, I opine, and pity, for Vice, Opprest with doating car, up went to make the pearly cup meander gave me on Sunium’s marble hue, so threw himself converse.

[doomedandstoned]

BAILEY’S CHOICE

Youngblood Supercult guitarist Bailey Gonzales shares her 10 favorite albums of Autumn.

Photo by Johnny Hubbard at Doomed & Stoned Fest

First off, let me preface by saying that this list is just a fraction of what I would include on a good, solid Autumn playlist, but everything must end at some point. Most of these you’ve probably heard, some you may not be familiar with, and others perhaps long forgotten and thus need a good revisiting. So here goes:

1. Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young – Déjà vu

This has been in my catalog since I first started smoking weed in the fall of my freshman year of high school and learned to enjoy the hazy, beautiful strains of intricate harmonies that permeate CSNY’s iconic brand of folk-blues rock. Their albums were always on rotation in my house when I was growing up, but until I started to fully understand its cosmic, layered beauty, Déjà vu fell more or less into the “lame music my parents listen to” category for me. Now it’s a staple, especially as the weather starts to cool and the leaves start to turn, and I’m thrown into some kind of sepia-tinged yearning for the past. Funny how things change. This album holds some of the group’s most acclaimed work; I can’t point out a single track I’d skip over.

2. Graveyard – Graveyard

Graveyard by Graveyard

Speaking of high school—I grew up in a very small town in Southeast Kansas, and when MySpace made its debut (yes, MySpace), I found a page for this indie label called Tee Pee Records that absolutely dictated what I would listen to take the edge of my Black Sabbath cravings—this is where I was ultimately introduced to stoner rock and all of the branches of the retro heavy metal genre—and one of them that always stuck with me as I worshipped this label’s releases thereafter was Graveyard’s self-titled album. There are so many great tracks on this album, with “Thin Line” being an absolute favorite and even an echoing of one of my darkest autumn remembrances (won’t delve into it, but the subject matter will lead you where you need to go). Fantastic, timeless album.

3. Jonathan Snipes & William Hutson – Room 237

Room 237 (2012) is a funny little documentary. I love it, despite the fact that this film lays out conspiracies about Stanley Kubrick’s version of The Shining that range from absolutely Kubrickesque crazy-but-plausible to totally ludicrous, leaping-to-judgement scenarios and breakdowns related to the hidden puzzles within the original adaptation. But, we are talking about music here: this album plays like Stranger Things meets Goblin meets John Carpenter. There is nothing necessarily special about it, but in trying to find an OST that would fit neatly within this list, this fella kind of jumped out to me. Not everybody enjoys soundtracks, and while I could listen to creepy, ambient synth all day long, every day, Room 237 seems like it could entrance any listener, especially with standout tracks like “To Keep From Falling Off” to “Universal Weak Male” and even with the closing track, “Dies Irae” which plays off the original theme from The Shining.

4. Trouble – Trouble

It blows my mind that this album was released in 1990. Everything about it screams, “I WANT TO MAKE YOUR EARS BLEED: ‘70s METAL STLYE.” It’s like a lost and very angry Sir Lord Baltimore album was found in someone’s murky basement and sold in a musty, long forgotten record shop. The kind of place where you might hear whispers of dark legends. Somewhere that may be evocative, in legend, of the kind of place that Mayhem’s late singer, Dead, slit his wrists, throat, and blew his brains out and everyone commenced for this orgiastic blood feast of mourning to say, uh, “let’s take a photo of his dead body and slap it on a bootleg album cover and make necklaces out of his skull...” It’s not that harsh, but there’s definitely something spooky, dark, and forbidden about it. You may ask yourself, if you’re just hearing this album for the first time: “Why don’t they play some of these tracks on the radio?” Well, my child...do you really want to know?

5. The Steepwater Band – Revelation Sunday

This collection of hot tunes from The Steepwater Band is, apart from 2011’s Clava, one of our band’s road staples. We often don’t agree on much when that road cagey feeling hits or when disagreements happen, which incidentally is why things tend to work well with us, but The Steepwater Band, Mount Carmel, and Gary Clark Junior are all things we can come to terms with through the van’s trebly stock speakers. Maybe it’s the bluesiness. Very moody folk-blues rock tunes, with a touch of whiskey-fueled country, is what these guys exhibit in songs like “Slow Train Drag,” “Dance Me A Number,” and “Steel Sky.” A plus material, in my book, and good for the road on a cold night’s ramble.

6. Black Sabbath – Never Say Die!

Can people stop it with the “I’m tired of Black Sabbath” comments??? You know they are the reason we’re all here, and whether you like to admit it or not, you dig a good Sabbath tune either once in a while or every day. Doctor’s orders. Now I don’t think that a playlist is complete without a Black Sabbath album, but autumn seems the appropriate time for their fumbling, but strong conclusion — 1978’s Never Say Die!   And I really don’t care that I know I’m in the minority for loving this album. To me, while it’s their most strained Ozzy-era album (I won’t even touch 13, so don’t ask), it’s full of premonitions of things to come, including a full out jazz brawl in “Breakout” that reminds me of the mean streets in Dirty Harry, and songs that might make the bravest of our genre cry, like “Junior’s Eyes.” “Shock Wave” goes through the typical rough and tumble changes that Black Sabbath fans learn to embrace, but it comes in wave after wave after wave. Hell, even the title track is nearly full-out punk rock. If you’ve avoided this album, please—give it a spin. Even if it’s only to hear Bill Ward sing. It’s the album I fell into when I joined my first band in the fall of 2008 and what pushed me into the direction of branching out to things I’d long avoided. I literally shit my pants every time the first synth breakdown in “Johnny Blade” comes over the speakers, and I think you should, too.

7. Madonna – Madonna

Speaking of shit you probably don’t wanna read…who out of us has given Madonna’s 1983 debut a spin? Anyone? Bueller? Yeah, I didn’t think so. For you folks who can appreciate this one, I applaud you for admitting it. It’s not a sin to listen to Madonna (tell that one to the Vatican), but unless she’s been covertly transformed into Lana Del Rey or someone else on the darker and more modern side of the pop spectrum, you’d be hard pressed to find an admitted fan in our heavy underground group. And you know what? I don’t give a single fuck (yes, I learned that language from M herself). She’s a goddess, an icon, a killer songwriter—if you don’t believe me, tell that to the $400 million she has neatly tucked away—and dammit, she taught me to give a little less of a fuck in times where I don’t have too many to spare. This is another reason my parents are badass. Who in the world would buy their kid the “Like A Virgin” album only if their 11-year-old can ask for it by name without getting too embarrassed at the thought of saying “virgin” out loud to the Camelot Music clerk? Yeah, that’s right. Anyway, listen to this. Just do it...Madonna would.

8. The Midnight Ghost Train – Buffalo

Buffalo by The Midnight Ghost Train

I met Steve Moss at a show in Topeka in late 2009 at a dive bar where the drummer from my first band was singing in his new group. We did the obligatory thing and then, holy shit—this band starts playing and glasses start clinking and I swear to god I thought the whole damn place was going to cave in. They play a bunch of tunes and I’m so fully entranced it’s stupid. After the show, I went up to their singer/guitarist and said, “Um, that was really fucking awesome. I loved how you slipped “Hand of Doom into the middle of one of your songs.” Bam. We were instant buds. I couldn’t believe that they had come out of Topeka, Kansas. Later, while they were prepping to record 2012’s Buffalo, we had a very memorable fall jam session and some shows together, and EVERY. DAMNED. TIME. I felt like there was just something insanely special happening. Buffalo proved to be an instant classic, and even though The Midnight Ghost Train boys seem to always be on tour, I visit with my old pal Steve from time to time when he’s around, and nothing can erase those crazy, almost LSD-like imprinted memories of our house shows together. Hell, we reunited again just last month in another Topeka dive bar. I still have almost 3 hours’ worth of an interview I need to write that documents Steve’s early life up until the recording of Cold Was The Ground. The circle goes round and round. And I sure as hell can’t shake that sound.

9. Creedence Clearwater Revival – Green River

I don’t know what everyone else thinks about when they hear the track “Green River” from Creedence Clearwater Revival, but I think of Gary Ridgeway. I know that’s way far off, but I can’t help it. I also think about the album cover, and how many people still try to copy it, unintentionally. And I think about Stephen King. If you’ve read a few of his novels, you know from some of his passages, he’s a total CCR freak. I’ll give him a pass for mentioning Springsteen so much just because he’s a damn genius. But I bet the casual listener has never heard the song “Sinister Purpose” on the radio airwaves. It sounds like it belongs on a damn Leaf Hound album or something. Thank god for small favors. This is the epitome of southern blues rock. All you Lynyrd Skynyrd fans can fight me (although I won’t knock them), but CCR has earned their grimy, yet rightful spot as the Bayou’s most raw and creepy rock group. And way down in the fall, there’s always a bad moon rising.

10. Buffalo – Dead Forever...

Man, I was going to write up a few more albums, but this is the end of the line, folks. Australia’s Buffalo caps it off with their 1972 album, Dead Forever...   I can see this piece being released today, and that’s why I’m so glad everyone in this community puts out music that can rival little-known bands like Buffalo. I have a sweet spot for this group. Nobody will ever be able to answer why this killer band could never receive any airplay, and that question still lingers as absolute over processed shit continues to infiltrate the airwaves and real emotion can’t shine through. One of the promotional stickers for this record was, “Play this album LOUD.” Seen that before? Is history repeating itself in belittling our efforts to get out there and WARP THE FUCK out of people’s minds? I guess so. But we can fix that. Put the needle on some Buffalo, don your battle jacket, and work on getting some fuzz into some onlooker’s ears. Listen carefully, and don’t let the Buffalo situation happen to us all.

Hear Bailey's 'Autumn Vibes' Playlist on Spotify

Photo by Johnny Hubbard

The Great American Death Rattle by Youngblood Supercult

[typewriterbot]

roksana’s timeline is way long, this woman is so old i love her

u want someone to protect u then u came to the right guardian

- Roksana is risen when Warlords were scrambling for land and power somewhere deep in the northwest highlands of scotland. she names her ghost Daiquri and doesn’t really know why

- she kept to herself mostly, sometimes fighting other Risen for armor and weapons, but mostly she fought against Fallen alongside humans

- along the way, she meets Apollo. he’s not Apollo-99 just yet, and she thinks, two Risen is much better than one

- besides, he watches her back, what more could she ask for?

- in her travels, she met the Rangers, and was taught how to fire guns, how to set traps, and how to use the earth to her advantage. the experience and information helps her save lives

- when a life is lost though, it cuts her deeply

- she could come back to life, these people could not, and so she made herself the shield that wouldn’t break in order to protect them. and when she looked at the children in the groups she was with, her heart warmed and she promised each and every one of them that she would be their first and last defense

- Roksana is, essentially, one of the first Titans in the Pilgrim Guard

- her travels allowed her to meet the Iron Lords. initially she’s not that thrilled with them, she thinks they’re just gonna take over what the Warlords started, and she’s not about to rule over people like that. not when she’s already sworn to protect them

- in exchange, because the Iron Lords to know that they can’t just leave humans unprotected while they go off and deal with Warlords, they teach her how to fight as a proper Titan

- Jolder is easy to make friends with, and her and Roksana become friends who kick ass and tease Saladin for being so serious all the time

- she is also friends with Vell Tarlowe, and their wrestling matches are legendary

- it’s easier to get Saladin to relax when he’s swarmed with dozens of children asking to play, and yes, it was all Roksana’s doing

- but what can she say? she loves his smile

- Roksana was one of the first people to greet Zavala when he arrived to the City

- they bond over playing and taking care of children when they have time off

- (and you can bet she gave him pointers on how to make the best damn Ward of Dawn ever)

- she bears the title of Guardian proudly, and helps keep the Faction Wars from reaching civil war status. she knows that the City wouldn’t survive being torn apart from the inside

- after this, she’s not that interested in the Factions, but listens when Apollo maps their allegiances

- Apollo introduces her to Hemlock-2, a hunter who is probably as interested in keeping the City safe as she is. (“every hunter needs a place to rest. might as well be the one place where the Traveler hangs.”) (but she knows that hemlock loves being in the markets among crowds of people)

- she helped build up the walls of the City, laying the foundations that would hold for years. a feat she is proud of

- word of the Hive reaches the City when Guardians find a seeder in the eastern flood zone

- Hemlock gains an apprentice, a new hunter named Ronin, a master of scoped weapons, and someone who loves to gamble. Roksana knows better than to go against her in a card game, and loves watching this new hunter win game after game

- during the battle of Six Fronts, she rallies the Pilgrim Guard to stand against the Fallen. nothing gets past her Ward of Dawn or her fists

- Roksana is given the title of Lady by Jolder. she does like the sound of Lady Roksana, but unless the situation calls for formality she preferred her first name by itself

- instead of following the other Iron Lords to find SIVA, Roksana stays behind in the City. her loyalty has always been to the people she protects, not some far flung hope of Golden Age technology

- (though that doesn’t stop her from wondering. the what ifs plague her for many, many years until she realizes that there was nothing to be done. she would have died as well, among her comrades. the title of Lady is so heavy, she puts it away and becomes just Roksana once again)

- it’s much harder to get Saladin to smile, and Roksana gives him space to mourn

- she still tries, but she doesn’t wait for him either. her happiness has never hinged on anyone but herself and what she does. she’s frustrated with how Saladin holds onto his grief

- she finds an apprentice in Sadik, a fairly new Titan who stumbled in from Europe. he’s more of a striker than a defender though, but he’s a quiet man, and eager to learn, and she’s proud as she watches him join the Firebreak Order

- battle of the Twilight Gap happens, and Roksana watches as Guardians die in great numbers. for a moment she wonders if this’ll be how the City falls before she pours all her strength into her Wards. if the Fallen wish to take the City then they’ll have to go through her first

- Ronin is always on a ledge above her, and there’s a new Warlock, calls himself Ira, and he’s a crackshot with a sniper rifle, though doesn’t offer much in terms of other skills

- while not necessarily glad that Shaxx went against orders, she’s proud that his tactics worked. she’s always known he was more than just a loud Titan who really liked hitting things. (she said this away from Saladin, not wishing to add fuel to the fire between the two of them)

- the City is safe, and Roksana allows herself to leave for longer patrols with Apollo and Hemlock. there are worlds to experience and discover, but her heart always leads all three of them home

- she is among the Guardians in the Battle of Burning Lake, disturbed by the Hive and fearful of what they could do to the City if the Vanguard isn’t careful. she’s glad that Shaxx shares this sentiment

- Sadik and Ronin return to the City with a Warlock in tow, his name is Jai, and she watches as Apollo practically adopts the kid

- in order for Shaxx to study Hive blades, Roksana takes swords from Knights she kills out in the field

- The City is unprepared to retake the moon, Roksana knows this in her bones, but she goes anyway because Guardians will need a wall, and she is immovable

- she saves less than she wanted, and watches as more Guardians die than she ever has before. the numbers stack up to be worse than the Gap, or when raid teams would be wiped out, and it hurts because she couldn’t protect them

- Crota is a thing of nightmares, and in the retreat, Roksana physically picks up Guardians to and throws them to get them out of the way, to make them move. she is one of the last to leave the moon, picking up the rear like she would when she would protect people before the City

- Apollo is put through a reset that makes him Apollo-99, and she must relearn how to befriend this new Apollo

- (she watches Hemlock struggle with this new Apollo, and it hurts)

- (Jai struggles with him too, but perhaps it’s a little easier for him because he hasn’t known Apollo for so long

- she is heartbroken to learn that Vell Tarlowe was part of an unauthorized raid team on the moon, and resigns herself to mourning another friend

- life goes on, and so does she. Apollo-99 finally gives in to her extended hands of friendship after she explained that she knew that he was not Apollo-98 and didn’t expect him to be. she is wants to know this new Apollo

- (Apollo-99 is different from Apollo-98, but not by much. he still burned with radiances and took four or five tables in order to work on his notes, he still helped new Warlocks interested in becoming sunsingers, and he still looked at Hemlock like the hunter hung the stars just for him. it tickled Roksana pink)

- Roksana’s not so surprised that Ira gets Rasputin running (because if anyone could do it, he could. other than Jai, maybe), she’s more surprised that he brought a brand new hunter with him

- really, she’s impressed at how much shit Ira and Guardian are getting themselves into. it certainly gives Apollo something to rant about

- Eris returns to the Tower, and Roksana feels sympathy for the lone survivor, but something tells her that Eris would only take it as pity

- but this is her chance. her chance to do what Vell Tarlowe could not, and kill Crota for all he’s done to the Guardians

- between her, Ronin, and Jai, they complete what’s necessary to descend into the Hellmouth. the team is: Roksana, Ronin, Jai, Sadik, Apollo, and Hemlock

- the raid wears on everyone. Roksana, in all her years, has never been in a place so dark for so long, but she keeps going. she is the first and last defense for her team. the Darkness will break on her shield, she wills this to happen

- Jai is disturbed by the time the raid is over and Crota is dead. Roksana allows herself to cry in Vell Tarlowe’s memory before she picks Jai up by his collar and carries him away. she’ll let Apollo, Sadik, and Ronin take care of him when they return to the Tower

- victory is bittersweet, and she sits with Eris on the night she returns. they curse the Hive and all they had taken from them. Eris, her team. Roksana, the Guardians she had known and couldn’t protect

- Ira formally introduces her to Guardian, and the constantly swaying hunter with a croaky voice and sweet demeanor makes her love them

- she sticks to patrols and bounties on earth, venus, and mars while guardians go off to the reef

- Hemlock does talk her into doing some prison challenges tho

- Oryx arrives

- she’s a little tired at this point. all this Darkness happening in rapid succession is almost too much. almost. but she is a line in the sand, and she will meet these challenges head on

- especially when Guardian is the one spear heading missions on the Dreadnaught. they had shown her their eye as it was slowly taken over, and resolved to let them and Ira face Oryx alone

- the team to kill Oryx consists of herself, Ira (to replace Jai), Guardian, Apollo, Hemlock, and Sadik

- if she has to do anything with the Taken again, it would be too damn soon

- she is among the Guardians who gets infested with tech mites, but handles being stuck in the Tower better than most

- Saladin contacts her. he needs her help with SIVA, and she agrees. she doesn’t regret leaving with the Iron Lords the first time (anymore), this will be the well timed vengeance for the old Lords, and she will be the first fist against them

- Ira tags along with her after he tells her that he had seen the House of Devils on mars but didn’t say anything

- then she thought, what the hell, might as well bring Guardian because they haven’t done anything in a while

- between the three of them, the Plaguelands aren’t difficult

- and she finds herself actually having conversations with Saladin again. there’s something there in those conversations, but she doesn’t pursue them. not yet anyway

- Roksana presents him with Jolder’s helmet, scarred by burnt SIVA, and dons her title of Lady once more

- she teases him about all his brooding, tells him that Zavala does the exact same thing, and grins when she catches him smirk

- it’s not much, but it’s something

- Roksana leads the raid team to kill Aksis with Guardian, Jai, Sadik, Hemlock, and Ira

- she absolutely pushes Ira off the road

- for the first time in what feels like forever, the City is safe, and she has succeeded in her duty. she couldn’t ask for anything more

- and then she’s crushed by the Red Legion, but people need her once again even without her Light and she refuses to go down

[littleroma]

Dear UK, I promise not everybody from Northern Ireland is like that

So, if any of you have been following UK politics, you’ll have heard over the weekend that the Conservatives have a slim majority in Westminister, which is brilliant news.  Prime Minister Theresa May has entered into a sort of deal, with the DUP, or Democratic Unionist Party from Northern Ireland so she can retain her lead and get her policies pushed through.  But before I explain to you why that’s problematic, I want to explain to you a bit about Jeremy Corbyn.  Don’t worry it all ties in.

So, a few weeks ago Sky News had dug up some of Jeremy Corbyn’s old stances on the IRA.  The reporter kept trying to lead Corbyn into making statements condemning the IRA.  He simply stated that he condemned any violence.  This was after someone noticed the tweet he sent on the 21st March about McGuiness’ death.

So, he didn’t actually have any hand in the IRA, he simply tweeted about mourning the man.  Yes, he may have done some things in the past that praised the IRA, but he wasn’t actually a part of the IRA.  Yet the way the British press were carrying on, you’d think he personally had a hand in bombings and campaigns of terror.  Theresa May has signed agreements to work with a woman who met with the leadership of the UDA.  This hasn’t got a lot of coverage with the mainland UK press.  Perhaps because it was shortly after the murder of another UDA member, 48 hours afterwards shortly.  Again why have more people not picked this up?

Martin McGuinness fought as part of the IRA but he also worked with unionists (and possibly loyalists) in Stormont, so I’m off two minds in relation to McGuinness.

Now in Northern Ireland, there are still marches around every July 12th, commemorating a battle fought in 1690.  Unless there are some incredibly old veterans wandering about, the corpses are probably rotted by now.  Back to this issues, every year there can be flarings of violence and unrest, during the marches.  Back in 1998, three young boys were killed by protesters, yet the Orange Order has called for these protests to happen ever since, in fact they wanted it added to the wishlist by Arlene Foster.  This seems a bit questionable.

It seems that Northern Ireland might be on course to return to polarising politics, something which seems very scary.  And massively disheartening for any Nationalist Catholics in Northern Ireland.  But of course amid all of this there are parts of Sinn Féin that are simply trying to make digs against Foster, this there are parts of Sinn Féin that are simply trying to make digs against Foster, course amid all of this there are parts of Sinn Féin that are simply trying to make digs against Foster, even in the face of her new role as King Makers within Westminister.  But can Sinn Féin really begin to protest anything if they don’t actually take their seats in Westminister?  The DUP have tried to fight back at this by claiming that  Sinn Féin are the ones holding everything up, that James Brokenshire will be neutral even though he comes from the Conservative Party but many parties are asking if he can truly be neutral if his party had a separate deal with the DUP?  There isn’t really a lot of confidence in James Brokenshire as it is.

Don’t get me wrong, Tony Blair was completely wrong in relation to Iraq and Afghanistan invasion, but he did bring about Good Friday Agreement.  The US and UK (under Blair) seemed to understand that peace was needed.

I’ll be clear here, because I’m not getting anything out of this.  Seriously I’m not, I’m a Catholic woman, who occasionally thinks about Nationalistic things, why would the DUP ever want to represent me?  But I promise you, not everybody from Northern Ireland is a homophobic bigoted bully and against the rights of women in regards to the Abortion Act of 1967, they’re the bad apples.  Maybe I’m thinking of apples because I just ate one!  I’d like to imagine that with the UK press paying more attention then maybe the DUP will change. I was born at the end of the Troubles, so I didn’t live through the worst of it, but the cynical part of me, sincerely wonders if such a thing is possible.  I just want a working local government.  I try not to ask for impossible things, but gosh I just can’t help it!

I’d love to see  Sinn Féin going over to Westminister, for the first time in their history, and making life difficult for the Chaos Coalition between the Conservatives and the DUP!  Does this make Theresa May a terrorist sympathiser?  Does she even care about NI because I don’t think she does

[madman-of-amargosa]

So I was lying in bed, not sleeping, and I was thinking about all the horrible things I’ve done to Vidcund Curious over the years.  Then I started thinking about all the relationships I’ve forced him into.  Of all, I think my favorite pairing was Vidcund and Antonio Monty.  I never expected to love the two of them together the way I do. They’re definitely my OTP.  A second favorite pairing was that of Vidcund and Grainne Salamis.  I really only ever hinted at it in The Curious Incident, but I love the idea, so I had too look it up and re-read it.  Now I’m going to share it with you because why the hell not.  It’s my day off and I have better things to do, but I’d really rather indulge in silly headcanons.

February, 2000 Strangetown The Bunker Vidcund Curious was sitting at the kitchen island with a bowl of Froot Loops and a tankard of coffee in front of him. He sipped at the coffee as he waited for his Froot Loops to get soggy.  To keep his brain occupied while he waited , he worked on the previous Sunday’s New York Times crossword puzzle.   Pascal came into the kitchen and put a section of that morning’s newspaper in front of his brother.  Vidcund didn’t look up from his crossword.  He was trying to figure out the answer to 27 Across. “Grainne Salamis is in the obituaries this morning.  Do you want to chip in to send flowers?"  Pascal asked. Vidcund didn’t hear anything that came after the word ‘obituaries’.  He picked up the paper Pascal put on the counter.  There it was, in black and white, 'Grainne (McGork) Salamis age 48 died peacefully in her sleep February, 12, 2002.  She is preceded in death by her husband, Xanthos Salamis, and survived by their only daughter, Circe Beaker…’ "I know you haven’t talked to Circe in a while,” Pascal said, “but I thought you still might want to chip in.” Vidcund did not hear his brother’s suggestion.  He felt like he just had the wind knocked out of him.   “Vid?” Pascal went to his brother’s side.

“You all right?” Pascal asked. “Huh?” “Are you okay?” Pascal asked again. Vidcund cleared his throat, but wasn’t able to get rid of the lump that had formed there. “Just surprised is all,” he said. Pascal wasn’t buying it. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again. “Yeah.” “Sorry. I didn’t mean to shock you.  I know Grainne always liked you, but I didn’t expect you to take it so hard.  I mean, it’s not like you have seen her at all since Circe’s wedding.” Vidcund looked up from the newspaper. “I might have stopped in to see how she was doing a few times.” Vidcund told him. “Might have?” “At the wedding, she made me promise to stop in and see her from time to time.  So, I did. ” “Jesus F. Christ,” Pascal muttered.  “You were sleeping with her weren’t you?” “That makes it sound so vulgar,” Vidcund said.  “Contrary to what you think you know about me, it wasn’t like that.” “You don’t mean to say that you were…"  Pascal paused to try to think of another way to put it, but couldn’t think of one. "You weren’t in love with her, were you?” Vidcund finally answered after a minute or so of thought. “I’m not sure.”

March 2000 Strangetown Law Offices of Crook and Fink, LLC Vidcund was the last to show up for the reading of Grainne Salamis’ will.  He was surprised when he got the call from the attorney telling him he had been left something in Grainne’s will.  Loki and Circe were the only other people in the room, aside from Ira Crook Esq. “What are you doing here?” Circe hissed. Vidcund shrugged. Grainne Salamis’ will was your standard Last Will and Testament. Everything went to Circe, minus a small percentage that went to Grainne’s favorite charity. “There is one specific bequest,"  explained Ira Crook Esq.  Grainne set aside one specific item to be given to Vidcund Curious.  Ira Crook Esq, held out a small box for Vidcund.  Vidcund accepted the box from Ira Crook Esq.  The box resembled a jewelry box like one might receive a gift of an expensive necklace in.  It was black and velvety on the outside and about the size of a half a sheet paper of notebook paper. Circe was furious.  Loki didn’t look happy either. "Why would she leave any thing for him?” she asked.  “She had no reason to leave anything to him!"  Circe stepped closer to the desk of Ira Crook Esq and demanded that he tell her what Grainne Salamis left to Vidcund Curious. "Grainne was adamant, when she added this specific bequeath six months ago, that I not divulge the nature of it to anyone other than Mr. Curious.  If Mr. Curious wants to tell you what was left to him, that would be his choice.   All eyes were on Vidcund.   Vidcund opened the hinged lid on the box, careful that no one could see the contents but him.  A smile spread across his face, and he closed the box. "Is that all, Mr. Crook?,” Vidcund asked. That was all.  Vidcund thanked Ira Crook Esq and shook the man’s hand.  Still grinning, he walked to the door.  He paused next to Loki.  “She always did like me better than you,” he said before he continued on his way out the door. 

Vidcund walked down the street from the Law Offices of Crook and Fink, LLC to the Corner Pub.  He took a seat at the bar and ordered a double of bourbon.  He hated bourbon, but it had been her drink.  He tossed back the double and ordered another.  He opened the box.  Inside was a piece of paper folded into quarters.  Written on the piece of paper was the word ‘smile’, illustrated with a little happy face.   Vidcund removed the piece of paper from the box and unfolded it. Vidcund,

I wish I could have been there to see Circe’s face when Ira said that I left something for you.  You didn’t tell her what it was did you?   Nevermind, I know you well enough.  You didn’t tell her.  I bet her reaction was priceless.  Yes, maybe it was a cruel little trick to play on her.  If you want to someday tell her what was in this box, I don’t mind.

Please Vidcund, don’t give up on her.  What you said to her the night before her wedding is true.  He will hurt her, and there will come a day when she needs someone.  Please let that someone be you. (Yes, I was listening at the kitchen window.  I was hopeful that you might be able to bring her to her senses.  She is so damn stubborn - just like her father.) I want to thank you for the time that we spent together.  We had many good times together, some of the best of my life.  I’m so very grateful that you kept your promise to visit me.  I never imagined your visit would turn into what it did, but I am glad it did.  I only wish that I had been 20 years younger. Please look out for my girl, and take care of yourself.  I think some day you two will end up together.  God help you all, though, if she ever finds out about you and I. All my love, Grainne Vidcund looked to see if there was anything else in the box.  Carefully, he lifted out a daisy.  It was just a  wild daisy that had been pressed between the pages of a book.  He looked at the daisy and remembered.. and he mourned.

[fridaythe13ththeseries]

Vanity’s Mirror

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Episode Recap #15: Vanity's Mirror

Original Airdate: March 5, 1988

Starring:

John D. LeMay as Ryan Dallion Louise Robey as Micki Foster Chris Wiggins as Jack Marshak

Guest cast:

Ingrid Veninger as Helen Mackie David Orth as Scott Thomas Gwendoline Pacey as Joanne Mackie Zack Ward as Greg Mazzey Gayle Cherian as Sylvia Ungar James Loxley as Charles Meniger Simon Reynolds as Russel Weigan

Written by Roy Sallows, Ira Levant Directed by William Fruet

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We start at night, with a not-so-attractive street flower vendor, Sylvia, selling a carnation to a businessman she likes. She gets too stalker-ish, so he tries to get away. But when Sylvia demands he look at her, he ends up gazing at the glaring reflection from the compact mirror she holds. Instantly, he sees her in a new light. She is beautiful and he falls for her. Sylvia leads him down an alley where he professes his love. She asks if he will love her til the day he dies and he says he will. Sylvia tells him to stand still then proceeds to pull the crank on a fire escape, sending the iron stairs into his head, killing him. She runs off and into the street, straight into the path of a truck. Sylvia is stuck and killed, as well. The crowd that gathers doesn't notice the teenage girl pick up and pocket the dead woman's compact.

At Curious Goods, Micki is reading the manifest as Jack and Ryan come up from the vault. Jack says they have collected and locked up 23 cursed antiques so far. Micki says they aren't getting them back fast enough, since 23 is less than 10% of the items listed in the manifest. Ryan kids that they could hire more staff, but Jack warns that they cannot trust others with the items. Ryan then picks out a random antique from the manifest to be their next mission for recovery. His finger lands on the gold compact sold to Sylvia Unger.

At the local high school, Helen, the girl who picked up the compact in the street, is snapping at her sister, Joanne, and her sister's boyfriend, Scott, for poking fun at her. Other kids then mock Helen, saying it is weird how Helen and Joanne can be sisters, since Joanne is so pretty and Helen is ... not. Scott then comes to Helen's defense to the group of guys, but only because Joanne doesn't like people being mean to her sister. They guys apologize, insincerely. Scott and Joanne make plans to meet that night as Helen watches, envious of her sister's happiness.

Returning to the store, Ryan and Micki tell Jack about Sylvia's death. Jack studies the picture in the newspaper article about Sylvia's death and notices Helen in the background, picking something up off the street. From her jacket, they deduce she is a high school student.

Back at school, Helen is sitting outside, checking out the compact, when the boys again poke fun. One of them, Greg, comes over to her and asks if she is going to the prom. She says she has better things to do. Greg then asks her to the prom, jokingly. Helen tells him she would never go with him and he says the only way he would take her would be on a leash. Greg heads back to his friends as Helen opens the compact. Angry, she yells at Greg, who turns to look at her and ends up gazing into the glare of light reflecting off the compact. He is instantly smitten with Helen and wants to be with her, offering to carry her bags. Helen thinks this is another prank and tells him off, but Greg keeps trying to prove his devotion to her, saying he loves her. Helen is convinced and leads Greg off as his friends watch, stunned.

In school, Helen and Greg walk hand-in-hand, Greg wanting to spend every second with her. Helen likes the attention and the looks from other kids, but soon Greg's complete infatuation beings to annoy her. Helen tries to get Scott to notice her new boyfriend, but he barely acknowledges her. Outside, Helen has had almost enough of Greg when he says he will love her until the day he dies. This gives Helen an idea and she leads the boy to the trash compactor. She drops her handkerchief inside and he jumps in to retrieve it, eager to please her. She turns the machine on and Greg, unable to disappoint Helen due to the curse, stays inside until he is able to hand her the handkerchief. But by then it is too late and he is trapped. Helen happily walks away as Greg is crushed to death, still professing his love for her. Later, the students are all shocked by Greg's death, but his friends have a feeling Helen had something to do with it.

Jack finds a picture of the girl from the newspaper in a yearbook and identifies her as Helen Mackie. Ryan comments on how bad her photograph is. Micki finds an address in the phone book and comes up with a ruse to see if the girl has the compact and Jack tells Ryan to go to the high school and see what he can find there. Jack says he will stay behind to figure out how the curse on the compact works, mentioning he may contact his friend, Rashid.

At home, Helen is eating and watching television as Joanne and Scott mourn Greg's death. They are both aghast at Helen's cavalier attitude towards the boy's death, seeing as how he had recently become so devoted to her. She shrugs it off. A knock at the door and Helen meets Micki, who says she is looking for a gold compact to purchase. Helen says she never saw anything like that and slams the door in Micki's face. Inside, the girl avoids Joanne's questions runs up to her room. Once there, she pulls out the compact and wonders just what it is all about. Then she takes out a picture of Scott.

Micki and Jack meet up with Ryan at the high school and he fills them in on Greg's "accidental" death. Since Helen already saw Micki, Jack suggests Ryan go undercover at the school to get close to Helen and see what she really knows.

The next day, as the kids set up the gym for the prom, Greg's friend Russell has words with Helen, telling her he knows she did something to Greg and he will find out what it is. Helen quickly pulls the compact and gets Russell to stare at it. He is cursed and falls for her. She leads him out of the gym.

Ryan is wandering the school looking for Helen and he finds her leading Russell off into the basement, so he follows. Helen takes her newest admirer into the utility area, looking for a way to dispose of him. Russell is oblivious, only seeing her as the love of his life. Helen leads him to a workshop area and demands the boy say he'll love her until he dies. When he does, she pushes his head onto a table saw. Russell is killed instantly. Ryan hears the boy's screams but arrives too late. Helen pulls out the compact, hoping to use it to stop Ryan, but he evades its shiny reflection and tries to escape. Helen chases after him and keeps flashing the cursed antique. Ryan ends up tumbling over a landing and falling down to the floor below. Believing him dead, Helen takes off.

At home, Helen is attempting to do her own makeup when Joanne comes in. She is happy to think her sister is going to the dance, but Helen is still harsh with her. Joanne keeps being nice, asking who Helen is going to the prom with and offering her help getting ready. Helen turns down any help. Joanne admires the compact and Helen is nervous as her sister holds it, opening and closing it. But Joanne leaves, giving the compact back to her sister.

At the school, Ryan comes to, briefly, before passing out again.

Scott waits impatiently for Joanne to dress for the prom. She comes down and he admires how beautiful she looks.

Outside the school, Micki tells Jack she can't find Ryan or Helen anywhere. They go off together to search.

Helen comes down the stairs, in her dress, with her hair and makeup done in an almost comical way. She asks Scott if he thinks she is pretty. He tries to be diplomatic, but she asks if she is as pretty as Joanne. He says yes, but in a different way. Joanne offers to help Helen fix up her makeup, but Helen takes it as an insult and snaps at her sister. Scott tries to make peace between the sisters. Joanne wants to leave, but Helen begs them to wait for her date to arrive. Scott convinces Joanne a few minutes won't hurt.

Micki and Jack continue to search the school, having no luck finding Ryan. In the basement, rats begin to crawl towards the unconscious man.

Joanne and Scott tell Helen they have to leave and offer to give her money for a cab. Helen again asks if she is prettier than Joanne and then flashes the compact at him. Scott is caught in the curse and leans in to kiss Helen. Joanne doesn't like this joke and pulls them apart, slapping her sister in the face. Scott grabs Joanne and throws her into the wall, stunning her. He is angry that she hurt Helen, who goads him into slapping her hard across the face. Helen then says they need to fix it so Joanne can't hurt her ever again. Later, Helen and Scott leave for the prom as a couple, having left Joanne tied up with a noose around her neck, and a wobbly stool beneath her feet.

At the prom, Helen and Scott arrive together, shocking everyone who seems them. Scott is oblivious, telling Helen how lovely she looks. Helen takes all the attention, not caring that it is how she gets it.

In the basement, Jack and Micki find Russell's body and at first think it is Ryan. Relieved, they continue to search for him, unaware how close by he actually is.

Scott and Helen mingle as everyone stares. At home, Joanne is barely able to keep her footing on the stool. At the school, Micki searches the basement and eventually comes across Ryan, tossing rats away and getting him to his feet. She leads him away to safety. Ryan remembers the prom and they head there to find Helen.

Jack arrives at the Mackie home, searching for Helen or the compact. He quietly heads upstairs and finds Joanne just as she is about to fall and be strangled. He holds her and cuts the rope, freeing her.

In the gym, Ryan and Micki confront Helen, Ryan screaming at her that she didn't expect to see him again. Helen is shocked and tells Scott they need to go. He punches Ryan before they take off. Micki gets Ryan to his feet again and they go after the teens.

At home, Jack comforts a crying and confused Joanne.

Helen leads Scott across the campus, Ryan and Micki in pursuit. Helen doesn't know what to do. Scott says he loves her and she gets an idea. She leads the boy to a place they can be alone. Soon enough, they are on the rooftop of the school. Scott again professes his love and they kiss. Helen gets up on the ledge, Scott following. They slowly dance, mere inches from the edge of the roof. She tells him how special he is to her and he repeats the sentiment. A crowd gathers below and Micki and Ryan spot the couple just as Jack and Joanne arrive. They all rush inside to get to the roof.

Helen says she doesn't want to kill Scott, she doesn't want to lose him. They embrace as the others rush up the staircase. Helen realizes the only way to keep Scott is in death. As the group arrives and pleads with her to stop, she tells Scott she loves him then pulls him with her off the roof. Joanne screams as the pair falls to their deaths. Jack picks up Helen's discarded purse but is disappointed to find the compact missing.

Later, the police question the students and Joanne. Jack asks why getting this item back is so hard. He tells Ryan and Micki he didn't find the compact. They take Ryan away to get medical attention.

At Curious Goods, Micki tells Jack the compact is out there, somewhere. He agrees, but tells her that no one ever guaranteed them that each attempt to get an item back will be successful. She says all the deaths were for nothing, then. Jack reminds her that they have been very lucky in getting the items back, so far. He says they will get another chance, since the compact can't be destroyed. It will turn up again. Micki wonders about all the people who will die because they weren't able to get this one locked up in the vault. Jack has no answer.

Back at the high school, an unknown woman finds the compact under a bush and picks it up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My thoughts:

A classic episode of the show! The compact is a great cursed antique and the twist of having it be female-centric is interesting. Sort of like a female version of the Cupid statue.

Helen is playing up for near-comic effect with her looks and inability to fit in with others, especially when she makes herself up for the prom. She really thought she looked good? Oh man.

Love the mention at the beginning about how many cursed items they have retrieved to date. This is the 15th episode, but Jack says they have gotten 23 items into the vault. Like how there are other items and adventures we don't see. Would have made a great premise for a book series based on the show!

Also love how Micki is so frustrated at the end, not being used to losing a cursed item and it still being out there, somewhere. Jack has to remind her that this is no guarantee and that they should consider themselves lucky they aren't dead and that they do in fact have some things locked away. Great point of view, and one we see again in the show.

The ending is a twist, as well, with Helen happy to have gotten what she always wanted and, instead of fulfilling the curse, deciding to just end her own life with the man she loves, no matter how she got him. She is a selfish girl, but I always wonder how much influence the cursed items have over the people who use them. To me, it seems that the curse amplifies the negative qualities in those who use the items.

Great episode with a dark message. Our heroes can do everything in their power, even risking death as Ryan did, and still come up with nothing to show for it. Makes their mission even more dangerous and their willingness to keep at it even more courageous.

Also, we get our first (I think) mention of Jack's friend, Rashid! And it is fun seeing Zack Ward in a role here. You might remember him best as Scut Farkus from "A Christmas Story" or any of the other dozens of roles he has had as a prolific character actor.

Next week: "Tattoo"

[frankensteined]

1, 2, 3, 4, 11, 13, 14

thanks buddy! ♥

1. Favorite clone?

helena. which is weird, because i’d have to say that sarah is my favourite leda, and mark’s my favourite in general, and they’re both clones too, but…helena’s just. !!! and we’ll never, ever see a character like her ever again. bart from dirk gently comes close (intentionally so, i’d say), but nothing will ever top the raw, primordial force that is helena. she gets to be unapologetic in everything she is, and we love her for it, and she’s driven by love, and she adapts and she thrives and the essence of her is just such a Thing, like honestly. it’s gonna be years from now and i’ll still get heart pangs when i’m reminded of helena. 

2. Least favorite clone?

after two seasons of storylines that i either could not care less about or actively did not enjoy, i think i’d have to say alison at this point. which i don’t like to say, because i don’t dislike alison! she has some truly great scenes and lines and i honestly really did love her stuff in s1-s3x01! but then. the rest of s3 happened and yeah. 

3. Most under-appreciated clone?

charlotte, tbh. but also katja, because she was coming to north america specifically because of the leda disease and she was just killed and her body was dumped and then nobody ever mentioned her ever again (except for when kevin hanchard brings her up whenever he wants to avoid choosing favourite characters, bless him). but katja was a person! with a story! a story that even ties into helsinki! but she gets no love and no one mourns her. :c

4. Most overrated clone? 

before s4 i’d have said beth for sure, just because we didn’t really know beth even a little and she was a real fandom darling (never one that i resented, mind you, but i was always a little “k have fun” when i’d see her in someone’s top 5 character list, basically). but now, we have gotten to know beth a bit, and the new comic series is giving us even more beth and, oops, i actually really like beth! but for a while i’d have said her.

so. i feel like i almost need to say cosima here? just because the show has flat out refused to evolve her character beyond “does Science, explains Science, likes girls, cough cough” and that drives me nuts because cosima is delightful and deserves all the love that she gets, but, four seasons in, and she really….hasn’t….developed…from the first season. and i mean, yes, she did come into the show with a whackton of knowledge about all this stuff already so maybe we’ve all just been catching up to cosima so she hasn’t really needed to change much, but i feel like……okay, “overrated” is certainly the wrong word to describe what i think has happened to her. absolutely it is. but i feel like the writers kinda became complacent with cosima’s character, so they just kept looping her back into the same four things and that was that. i thought we were gonna get more from s4 when she tagged along for the brightborn stuff, but even that resulted in another loop back to working with the Creator Mentor because Science. it always kinda feels like outside of Cosima’s Main Four Things, they don’t know where to fit her in, basically.

also, s4 krystal because she kinda ended up a exaggerated parody of the s3 krystal and i loved that krystal so much so i’m not the biggest fan of that direction that they went with her.   

11. Saddest death? 

yeah i’m still not over parsons or rudy, sry. at least seth’s happened quickly enough that i didn’t have time for the “oh no i’m Sad now!!” to kick in until after he was gone. those other two? nah. jerks made me cry. 

but paul got a great death, too! he died so much! i’d also say ethan duncan’s death here, but i’m not gonna lie, i only felt feelings during that because of rachel. so yeah. 

beth’s actual death doesn’t really count here, but her scene with mika before she headed off to the train station? definite honorable mention.

13. Biggest wish for season 5?

closure. not in the “everything is tied up with a neat little bow!” sense, because i also want the world that ob has built to remain open and perhaps not entirely explored before the end, but i don’t want to see any hanging plot threads by the end. one thing that i’ve seen consistently over the years in the tags has been “whatever happened to (character/subplot/etc)”, and there’s always been a sorta “maybe they’re gonna come back to that!” hope, but now they don’t have the time to do that anymore. i don’t know if i trust that they’ll bring back everyone/everything that they’ve dropped to wrap those plot threads up, but i wish that they’d do something satisfying anyways. 

i also don’t want my faves to die. but i feel like that’s everyone’s wish for s5.

also: tony. 

14. Death predictions for season 5?

i feel like saying rachel here is too easy, but this show kills off all its antagonists eventually, so i also just. expect this to happen. i don’t want it to. i am prepared to be miserable when i does happen. but i’m expecting it.

MK is also the big, most easiest and obvious candidate for the season 5 death prediction pool. she’s already sick, she’s the least connected to team leda, and she was only introduced to the show last season so fewer people are intensely attached to her, so i can definitely see them killing her off. which is honestly going to be a shame, because she’s survived so much already to get to this point. she deserves to live and have a quiet life of her choosing. 

i will literally owe somebody money if ferdinand survives this last season. like, someone step up and i’ll send you money if he doesn’t die, that’s how certain i am that he’ll be dying.

finally, i keep making “i hope (blank) happens to ira before they kill him off” jokes to people, but that’s just me being a bitter asshole forever about how the show handled castor, so i don’t actually wanna predict a castor death (ira or mark, if they bring him back. and they better), but this show. is unreliable in that area. but i’ll hope against this anyways. (get john and graeme to lower me into my grave in the hendrix garage so they can let me down one last time) 

send me pre-s5 ob asks!

[overthemournes-blog]

Over The Mournes...

I was born in 1915 in Co. Donegal during a time when the Brits were not here. Life was enjoyable, I remember waking up each day to the smell of Irish Soda Bread, and porridge (with salt) that my mother would make for me every morning before I went to school. She had been doing this since the age of five. I remember that we lived in a small cottage, in Milford close to the border with Northern Ireland.

I remember walking to school along through the windy fields, and forbidden roads with my best friend Michael O’Leary. We would laugh and joke about the teachers that we really did not like:-(especially Mr. O’Neill) he was a Protestant, but he was also our English teacher... for some unknown reason I would also get an uncomfortable feeling when being taught by him, it was as if there was a volcanic rage waiting to burst out with flames and destruction.

Looking back at my time at school, was very much a marvellous experience. I use to enjoy every class I sat in, we learned about Atoms and Particles in Science, we learned about The Great Famine in History, and in PE we use to play football, I loved that part of the day as it was when we pretended to be the reds of Manchester United against the blues of Chelsea. The only part of the day I did not like, was when we had Mr. O’Neill.

I recall one day (especially) in the Winter of 1930 we were learning about The Easter Rising in class, and how our nation came to be the Ireland we acknowledge it to be today. Mr O’Neill told us about the great heroes that died in Ireland. He spoke of Joseph Plunkett, Patrick Pearse and most notably James Connolly.  He told us that he has also looked up to these very people, and expressed his purified envy of not doing what they had done during the Dublin Rebellion. Everyone in the class started questioning what it was they had done?... Michael turned around and said to me, “what do you think Malachy?”

I just looked at him and said, “that I don’t what to think Michael.” I remember class finishing, myself and Michael wondered back through the empty roads and windy fields. I walked through my gate and inside my house where my parents were sitting there with the fire on. The entire room was full of smoke; I could barely see two yards ahead of me.  My mother smiled at me and asked, “how my day was at school?” I just sat there and said, that it was good. I vividly recall my dad sitting there with his pipe, and his face full of smoke... he was exhaled quickly and pounded every last bit of smoke through his nose on to me, where it cuddled my body and gently whispered away to the rolling fields behind us.

His face was potent and gazed. He began to whisper ‘Ireland’s Call’ for no apparent reason. It was then (amongst the lyrics) he began to say, ‘I know what it was Mr. O’Neill was talking to you about today Malachy.” “I said he wasn’t talking of anything Da!’ “Ballshit...” he began to raise his voice, he spat out his pipe and backhanded me telling me, “DON’T YOU THINK THIS COUNTRY HAS SUFFERED ENOUGH WITHOUT THE BRITS!?”  blood came pouring out like the infamous Niagra Falls. I was screaming in pain, my mother tried holding back me dad, but he wouldn’t stop, he kept repeating himself until I could no longer take anymore.

I woke up the next day black and blue, I felt like a hot rod had been planted on my face. I felt like a brick wall being knocked down by a pickaxe. I walked downstairs, where my mother sat there crying, there was no breakfast on the table, neither no fire lit, the house was empty feeling like endless tunnel weeds gently blowing themselves across the floor. It was at the point I began to think of what Mr O’Neill had told me back in class. I thought that if Paul Connolly had failed being hung in Kilmainham Goal why can’t I succeed him, and unify Ireland once again, and drive the Brits along with the Protestants out.  

I packed a brief bag, full of some clothes, some bread and apples. I stepped into the living room, I swiftly held my hand on my mother’s shoulder, telling her that all “would be okay, and there was nothing to worry about.” I walked outside from the barn, stepping towards my dad- I passed him and he just looked ahead into the abyss. I ignored the ever-present present look of rage and disgust upon his face and knocked on the door of Michael O’Leary. I shouted “Michael, Michael” he opened the door, and asked, “why it was I had a bag?” “I confidently told him that I was going to Belfast...” It was at that point, his parents came to the door and took Michael away.

I slowly walked down the road, whilst looking at Michael’s house, Michael’s face appeared at the window, we starred for a brief moment until the curtains were swiftly shut out of sight and mind to my acknowledgement. I came to a crossroad- once had to bus stop that was going to Belfast, and the other that was going to Galway. I jumped straight onto the bus heading to Belfast. I remember the journey there being at least 4 hours and 30 minutes, it was moronic... so I began to sing Ireland’s call to myself:-(”Come the day and come the hour, Come to the power and the glory! We have come to answer our country's call, From the four proud provinces of Ireland Ireland, Ireland, Together standing tall! Shoulder to shoulder, We'll answer Ireland's call!”) Everyone inside the bus, start to turn there heads with annoyance, only to make me laugh for some time. I fell asleep until we arrived in a darkened Belfast that seemed plagued with strong socialist and nationalistic views of the country. I got off the bus, and all I could hear was endless echoes and voices screaming ‘BRING THE BRITS BACK’ & UNIFY THE IRELAND JAMES CONNOLLY ONCE SAW.’

I stood amazed by this show of patriotism and felt I would like some of that. It was at that point I found myself walking down Crumlin Road, where I passed the famous Crumlin Road Jail. It was then, I bumped into two men in wearing army uniforms and balaclavas. They stormed past me, one of them barged he’s shoulder next to mine. He turned around, and pointed his gun at me, shouting “DO YOU HAVE A PROBLEM LADDY!?” The man next to him put his arm on the gun, telling him “John don’t do it!’ He pulled his gun away, and they both wondered off.

It was then I realised that those two men were the sort of people that Mr O’Neill uses to talk about the in English. So I ran up to them, and told them that I was “looking to be a part in the IRA!” They turned around and began to laugh at me! ...”Haha you want to be in the IRA boyo?...have you seen the size of yourself? It looks like you can barely lift ‘two-needles-from-a-haystack’ I smirked at them both and punched one of them in the face. He fell to the floor, ripping a hole on the back of his trousers. The man next to him, began to laugh! He put his arm around me and said, “now I can see why you  to be a member of the IRA... you whispered within my ear, you realise what it is we do right?”

I slowly nodded my head and began my mind took me to a fantasised Ireland where there was no border, neither Protestants and only Catholics were apparent as the days of the 16th Century before we were annexed via King Henry VIII. We wondered to an alleyway on the Crumlin, John pulled my collar and shoved into a car...’I asked where it was we were going?’ Nobody said a thing, until the driver said, “Bóthar na bhFál we’re going to see a very special man” we passed through the city centre, where all I can were endless riots and people throwing petrol bombs and tear gas at each other. The atmosphere felt intense, I wanted to run away until I reminded myself of what it was I was here.

We arrived at a desolated garage in West Belfast, John threw me out the car and on to the ground. He told me to ‘move’ whilst pointing an AK-47 to my back. I remember entering the garage; it was pitch black until I saw a glimmer of light, and a chair in the middle of the room. The garage itself was freezing cold, with puddles everywhere (to the naked eye). John pushed me on the chair and started to interrogate me. He started to punch me in the face telling me, ‘how do you like it now kiddo... huh?...huh?...huh?’ My face felt swollen I could hardly speak nor see anything two yards ahead of me.  

The other man (I never knew his name) who was in the corner of the room, lit up a cigarette  and asked me ‘so why is it you want to be in The IRA boyo?’ I just said to them that, ‘to get the Brits out’ they started laughing again. ‘Do you not think there’s a bigger picture than just to ‘get-the-Brits-out?’ I responded with nothing, and just sat there shrugging my shoulders.’ A voice appeared out of nowhere saying, ‘they will never learning’ it came closer and closer until I could see someone descend from the darkened confinements. He was dressed in a three-piece suit, he looked rather a mot (good) I must of said at the time. He told the two men to let me go. The cut the rope around my hands, and they throw me into the puddle, where I started to puke from the horrible stench that surrounded this derelict place.

‘I heard you want to be in The I.R.A’ he said to me. I just nodded and said ‘yes’ to him. Let’s for a little ride. We got back into the car, and we drove to the docks, in the North of the city. We got the car, but everyone started loading there guns for some reason, I just couldn’t tell why at the moment... until they opened the boot, and inside were two brothers that were blindfolded and duck tapped screaming their hardest. They had them on their knees, John swiftly passed me reloading the gun and then threw to me. Telling me to prove myself. The I.R.A commander (man in the suit) started to read out the crimes that they had committed against The I.R.A:

-”You are stood with us today, as you have both committed crimes against the Irish.Provisional Army, you have willingly provided information to U.N. (British Army) which in consequence you have not solemnly swear, to the best of you’re abilities, I will support and defend The Government of the Irish Republic, which is to all Erne and all enemies foreign and domestic, and will bear true faith to the allegiance, and I take this obligation freely without any mental reservation or purpose of invasion so help me god.”

The two brothers started crying and dribbling on the floor. Asking them to beg for mercy. The commander told them to shut up, you Victorian-ass-lickers! They took their blindfolds off, and John told me to shoot them both in the head. So I walked behind them both and was caught in a brief moment of solitude. It was at that point my mind started talking to me: ‘DO YOU THINK THIS COUNTRY HASN’T ALREADY SUFFERED ENOUGH?’ & John shouting to me ‘DO IT, DO IT , DO IT, IT’S AN ORDER!’ I breathed in for a few seconds, and shot the first brother in the back of the head, where his head exploded on the dampened floor, I then shot the second brother in the same place, where blood just came pouring out of his head and into the River Lagan, where it started to change to the colour red. 

The commander and volunteers started laughing, ‘I couldn’t plan that better if I did that myself.’ I turned my head away from them and became in a state of shock for some time of what I had just done. It was at the moment, my life started to flash before my very eyes... it was all just too much for to bare, so I remember passing out on the floor; waking up in the commander's house. I gently opened my eyes to quietness, where he stood there asking if I was okay?’ I slowly brought myself up to sitting level, and told him that, ‘I cannot remember, what happened?’ The commander sighed for a few moments and then started opening up about his past. He said that ‘I was like you once you know boy, I had a dream to reunite Ireland without borders or trespassers, I remember getting kicked out of my own home for expressing unorthodox views about the state, I remember losing everything that loved and cared for me back then.

But I learned not to miss those who loved me once because I always knew Ireland would love to be back the same as I do it. He became frustrated and started to question whether all this fighting was worth something. I sat there and told of that of course it was, you just cannot see it beneath all the sectarianism going in within the country. He started to put his head in his hands, and just repeatedly shook his head... telling me, ‘do you know how long I have been fighting for this bittersweet freedom kid?’ ‘No’ I said. ...30 years, 30 years I have fought for this country to be together once again.’ I sat there with endless surprise, so I put my arm around him, and told him ‘it will not be too long now.’

He pushed me away, telling me that, ‘you are not from my generation- so you would not understand.’ I shrugged off what he had told me, and got him a glass of water, and then left out of the front door. I wandered down the road out of Bull Road, and further up The Falls Road, and back into the city... where during which, I saw many children throwing endless petrol bombs, and nappies that were full-of-shit at the British Soldiers that plotted throughout the entirety of the city. That was seemingly becoming increasingly distant like watching the Nubian Pyramids sinking in the Sudanese sands of The Sahara Desert.

It became heartbreakingly bewildering of what it was we were fighting for?... Was it for the very unification of Ireland, or was it to become more loyal to British rule? It perplexed me into a profound impressionistic state of mind, where I found myself drowning within my mindful currents- where the highest point was the underlying confinement of a mirage that mirrored the lightful reflection from the moon, and on to the ocean. It looked white but became progressively depressive after acknowledging where in the world it was. It was like it did not want to be here, and neither did anyone else stubbornly. 

I became isolatedly introverted and unresponsive to the reality that was surrounding my very presence. I tried hard not to be accompanied by these personalistic fractions but stood unapprehensively fearful to the notion of socialistic pressures... that swarmed at me like a pack of unremorseful starving sharks hunting for food, like their life's had already dependent on it. It scared me for some time, I began to rain so I carried on home (later turned into running). I woke up the next day, with a pounding headache that felt like a ‘bull in a China shop’ without reason nor niceness or just came into my mindful existence. 

I made myself some porridge, and head back over to my commander's house. I go to his door, and it was already open; so I just pushed it more-so. Inside the house where a group of Provisionals dressed in full uniform, they all looked at me, until one of the walked towards me asking where my “uniform was?” “I said that I had not ne got it.” The soldier raised his voice and began to call me disloyal to our beloved Ireland. I was about to storm out the door until my commander came walking down the stairs telling me to get dressed- whilst he threw a uniform at me. The other soldiers gasped and started to question the policy that stood so richly within the I.R.A’s veins. I got suited and booted and wondered out the front door to wait for the others. During that time I heard whispering coming from the kitchen: “No what I want you to do Breanden is to go around the back of the house, firing shots at the window, causing a distraction for the mother and kids- whilst we go upstairs looking for that bastard Roy O'Connell and show him what it’s truly like to be Irish!!!”

The came rushingly out of the kitchen, where I pushed myself back out of the letterbox and back on looking at the ground. They pulled me telling me to get into the car. They loaded the boot, with AK-47′s, Rocket Launchers and a heavy amount of grenades. I turned away in despair, wondering what was about to happen...I plucked the courage to take another look and saw all of the soldiers (including the commander) put a Desert Eagle down each of they’re trousers whilst smiling on towards the horizon. They got the car, and one of the soldiers slapped around the side of the head. I grunted at him and looked out of the window. The commander and soldiers began laughing and joking about how stupid they the British were being Ireland until the commander saw me looking at him in the mirror... he paused for a brief moment, whilst I stared at him (worryingly) until he heard a nearby lorry horned at him!

We arrived outside a working-class house in the South of Belfast, it was early, it was at least 06:30 am in the morning I was barely awake. Everyone quickly got out of the car and loaded themselves with the guns that they had brought with them. The commander opened the door and pulled me out, giving me an AK-47 telling me to “shoot when told to.” I anxiously nodded at him. John rushed around the back, and over the fence where he began firing shots at the window... during I started to hear endless screams from the house. The screams were of the terrified women and three children that were there trying effortlessly to hide away from the accolade they found themselves deep within. 

I heard a shouting voice from the distance, it was Roy trying to jump from the window. The commander told him that he was at the window top, so he booted the back door open and ran upstairs where he narrowly got hold of Roy and pulled him back to the bedroom that was covered with an ocean of glass and a darkened (coal-like) carpet and sheets. John pulled Roy by the hair downstairs and onto the street, he tried crawling away, until the commander said, ‘I wouldn’t do that if I was you.’ Roy spat blood back into the commanders face, and told him to get of his face ‘you Fenlan cunt!’

He fired two shots, one in his left and the other in his right leg. Whilst the other put duck tape around his mouth and a black sack around his face, whilst tieing him up shoving him in the boot. We sped away, whilst his wife and children came hurriedly (out) tripping on to the pavement crying into the distance asking for justice, whilst I could only look back in sympathetic despair. 

We arrived in a place called Armagh, where there was a waterfront that flowed through the town, we pushed Roy out the boot and onto the beaten ground. Where the commander told me to shoot him, and if I didn’t that I would get shoot. So I quickly breathed in, and shoot him without thought. Blood splattered everywhere and into the river, it trickled never to see it again. I threw the gun in the water, in utter disbelief of frustration and anger back into the backseat I put myself back within.

[ultracolethaalbert-blog]

A Woman Is A Sometime Thing George Gershwin Lissen to yo` daddy warn you, `Fore you start a-travelling, Woman may born you, love you and mourn you, But a woman is a sometime thing, Yes, a woman is a sometime thing. Oh, a woman is a sometime thing. Yo` mammy is the first to name you, Then she`ll tie you to her apron string, Then she`ll shame you and she`ll blame you Till yo` woman comes to claim you, `Cause a woman is a sometime thing, Yes, a woman is a sometime thing. Oh, a woman is a sometime thing. Don`t you never let a woman grieve you Just 'cause she got yo` weddin` ring. She`ll love you and deceive you, Take yo` clothes and leave you `Cause a woman is a sometime thing. Yes, a woman is a sometime thing. Yes, a woman is a sometime thing, Yes, a woman is a sometime thing. Written by Dorothy Heyward, Du Bose Heyward, George Gershwin, Ira Gershwin • Copyright © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc #Gershwin #Porgy #Bess #Woman