#is it too much to ask for enough time and energy to draw gay italians and also maybe my ocs for an entire day???

[tendebill]

[wip]

i have been working on this ezioleo request for so longgggg,, im about halfway through coloring and then i can do some MINOR shading

[guysofeurovision]

Third round of predictions and comments: let’s see what the anons had to say...

- I need Irland to go through! I need a trashy Performance in the nf, and if she got to perform first, we would have an iconic opener like in 1991! You make a good point: tonight we’ll lack some cheap Eurovision energy :(

- Michael Ben David's behaviour is Just wrong in all ways. He literally slapped one of the Alhanov Brothers, forced Sheldon to kiss him on his lips, pulled William's (Wiwibloggs) mask down and kept Taking microphones from other Contestants and tries to outshine everyone on every occasion. He will qualify due to being a great Performer and good staging but I wish he won't.  At the end of the day, he didn’t get through, right? Let’s try not to shitstorm him too much now: and I’m speaking to myself here, too... because I’ve already shared enough bad asks on the guy. Let’s stop with this collection of asks, ok? Don’t be disappointed if I won’t reply on this topic anymore. 

- This could be the dumbest theory yet but do you think Ochman could have a crush in one of the Kalush guys? I get that he supports Ukraine and he likes their song but he's been hanging a lot with them mmmm  Probably just leaning on the Poland-Ukraine brotherhood :)

- Grazie Italia for inviting Diodato, I couldn't stop crying from the beginning to the end of the song ♥️ Competition-wise, I fell in love with Portugal. Can't fait for the rest of the shows!  So far Portugal hasn’t earned my love and now I’m starting to believe that it will never happen.

- Honestly what is the Point of the draw of halves if Producers put a couple of bops next to each other and  many ballads next to each other? Ukraine, Spain and Serbia are really in advantage because of the given running order.  People, really, please... Why always complaining about all and every single thing? Is running order really that fundamental? I found all the speculation on it quite exaggerated. 

- Serbia was just unbelievable . The arena was crazy during her performance . So happy for her .  When it comes to clapping hands, humans are always all in, especially Italians :P

- I am so happy for Romania, he definitely deserved to qualify over Israel. Especially after Michael did that thing where he joined the presenters at the end, like, I understand it's his personality but it was a pretty egocentric and unprofessional move. I mean, he started kissing them WHILE they were speaking. And you could tell they weren't happy about it. I think it was the first time I've ever seen Mika without a smile on his face lol   I’m so curious to know which spot WRS got in the semi... 9th? 10th? Higher? Uhm...

- Unpopular opinion: avarage level of SF1 was higher than SF2 (in the first one I was sad for nearly everyone who didn't qualify, in the second I had 8 qualifiers and 10 NQ). SF2 got stronger single acts though On the contrary, I believe this is quite a common opinion!

- I don't see any problem with Stefan's staging, it's perfectly fine for this kind of song. But apparently, some people think that good staging=bringing an entire circus on stage  Another great example of what I often brag about: sometimes LESS IS MORE!

- The acts which surprised me the most were Stefan and We Are Domi, they're true performers! (My 3rd and 4th in that semi, just after Sweden and Poland)  Let’s admit it: Czech Republic will be a great opening act to warm up the arena (even if their music isn’t my cup of tea), while Stefan’s message of “hope” the perfect end to it :)

- Wrs is gay ?  Don’t wanna out him but.. hey, let’s say I’d be surprised if it turned out otherwise.

- Do you think Kristyan is gay?  Clueless here...

- Am I the only one who thinks Finland’s song was not so good (to say the least)? Personally I think North Macedonia should’ve qualified instead of them   Finnish entry isn’t amazing but HELL NO, North Macedonia is fine where it is... Zero staging and all those tragic facial expressions... Oh, so annoying!!!...

- Does a guy's height matter for you? Other Citi Zēni members are taller than the lead singer. He's just so... Tiny🤣  No, it doesn’t matter at all. And since when being “tiny” is a problem?

- Who TF even like Israel this year?! Last year was better   Last year, the previous one to that, and the one before that, etc.

- It's a shame that Achille didn't have a stronger song, because that mechanical bull deserved to make an appearance in the final and be seen by a larger audience-it could have reached "man in hamster wheel" and "grandma with drum" levels of Eurovision iconicness!  This is very true: it would have brought some real show to the final, something people could have talked about :P

- I have thoughts about San Marino. Idk. why people on tumblr are losing shit over Achille Lauro. His vocals just weren't good, and it's obvious that San Marino wanted to repeat Måneskin's success by low-key coping them (but tried to make it edgier).  Song and vocals weren’t on point: what else to say when it comes to a musical contest? Ok, it’s televised and acts should also please the eye, but the main feature can’t be that! (Not sure on the idea of Achille trying to emulate Maneskin... He’s like this on his own!)

- Ronela's dancers >>>> Chanel's dancers (sorry Pol)   HELL YES!! Karmine, oh Karmine...  :Q__

- Idk about you or anyone else, is Subwoolfer actually sing on stage, I didn't see a single mic since the beginning  Hidden somewhere under those masks? Live singing is mandatory, so there can’t be that much of a trick, right?

- You May disagree but Serbia could really surprise tonight. They got a good draw (24, second to last, after three Song sung by men and before one Song sung by a man). Serbia also increased in the odds and don't forget Serbia had probably the biggest audience Support in the semi - I still remember my goosebumps when I Heard the intense clapping. I am really curious how High Konstrakta will place, I would not Mind her winning.  Top5 may be at reach but I don’t see it winning: call it sixth sense....

- I know it's unlikely, but I want Konstrakta to win and Sanja, Ksenija and Ivana to be next year's hosts!  I can already see what kind of dresses they could put on and... Oh Lord, save us from that cringe!! 

- No matter whether they win or not, Sam Ryder and Konstrakta are already Eurovision icons and legends!   I’m missing a real icon this year, someone like Natalia Gordienko 🤣

[ccwastaken]

I. Hate. This. Venue.

Listen okay, I've played in a lot of places, but never before have I been somewhere that puts only sparkling water in the dressing rooms which, by the way, have no air conditioning, AND puts the stuff in the WATER COOLERS. What kind of HELLSCAPE did Rudy have us play in?!

It's bad enough I have to watch Scarlett rip through entire boxes of la croix on a weekly basis...

I would say the upside to this is that the leather couch in my dressing room is comfy, but considering I'm drenched in sweat and currently shirtless, it's not. I groan and peel myself off the couch (probably losing skin in the process) and slip my shirt back on. It's probably cooler outside, I reckon, so I leave the dressing room.

"Phew." Much cooler. Better.

"Well if it isn't the pinna per hamburgers." A smooth, Italian accented voice interrupts my thoughts. I grin.

"Carlo?" I move off the door and look over at him.

"It's been a while." He smirks at me. "How has it been?"

I can't help but smile back. The guy has an infectious smile, y'know? "I'm good," I stuff my hands into my pockets. "How's Koilee?"

"Good," he leans against the wall beside me. Our arms are almost touching. "How about Rita?"

"Same old same old," I smirk at him. "Still dragging me to movies at every opportunity."

"And the little one?"

"Tina?" I chuckle a bit. "Still a ball of energy. Rita was telling her off for drawing on the walls when I left."

Carlo laughs. "Sounds like my goddaughter." He murmurs softly. Our eyes meet, just for a few moments, and I feel my stomach lurch. Its always done that, since I was a teen. Carlo's eyes...they're mesmerising.

"Would you want kids, gioso?" I ask randomly. He smiles a bit at the nickname.

"...Maybe," he murmurs. "But I don't know if I could."

I arch a brow. "Whaddya mean?" I lean my arm against the wall to face him better.

He shrugs, and doesn't say anything more. I frown.

"Gioso?"

"It's nothing, Marty," he looks at me with those gorgeous green eyes. "I'm just- thinking."

"You can actually do that?" I ask, feigning shock. "I had no idea you were capable of thought!"

He laughs, a sweet noise that makes him sound so...handsome. That's the only word I can think of to describe it. Making him laugh has always made me feel good.

"Seriously though-" he looks at me as I lean off the wall, standing in front of him. "You looked upset for a second there- you alright?"

He looks at me and sighs. "I don't think my partner could have a child." he says softly. I frown.

"You have a girlfriend?" I ask, surprised. He's never mentioned a partner before. I would've heard about her before, right?

"Marty..." When- when did his face get so close to mine? I never even noticed it, why's he getting so cl-

"M-MPHH-!"

OH.

HE'S KISSING ME.

THAT'S WHY HE GOT SO CLOSE.

My entire body jolts, skin breaking out in goosebumps. Part of me is screaming to get this crazy Italian off of me, but it's mostly unheard by my body naturally leaning into the kiss. Our lips knead together, softly at first, like Carlo is testing the waters, then rougher.

He falls roughly against the wall, pulling me with him by my hips. My hand is splayed out against the wall beside his face, or at least I think so. I'm too scared to open my eyes. My other hand is gripping his shirt tightly, whether out of panicky fear or neediness I'm not sure.

I feel one of his hands move off my hip and onto my shoulder. I'm pulled closer against him, our bodies touching. The hand on my shoulder has moved, and now it's gripping the back of my shirt.

My senses are going crazy. Carlo's kisses are rough and frantic, like he knows he's on borrowed time. I can smell him too. Strong Italian spices and ice cream. It's a weird smell- it makes me oddly hungry.

His head tilts up slightly, and I feel his tongue run along my lips. Without thinking I open my mouth for him.

His tongue is just as frantic, if not more. He tastes of oregano and something sugary. I fight against his tongue weakly, but I'm subdued pretty quickly. His hands move back to my hips and he hugs me against him. I shiver wherever I'm touched. His kisses and his touching is getting slower and more gentle, and I panic. He's going to move away from me- I don't know why but I don't want this kiss to end. I would rather die than stop kissing Carlo Romano.

Unfortunately, Carlo Romano seems to be uninterested in that idea, as he pushes me away from him. His cheeks are redder than Scarlett's hair and he's shaking. He slowly pulls his hands away from me and relaxes against the wall, panting for air. I'm out of breath too, and my face feels like it's on fire.

"Wh-" what am I even supposed to SAY to that?! My best friend just- kissed me! And I strangely enjoyed it- but still! He kissed me!

"That's why I couldn't have children." He murmurs in between pants. I stare at him.

"Bu-" I don't know what to say to him. "I'm- I'm not- y'know-"

"Gay?" He finishes for me. I nod.

"Yeah that. I'm straight-" of course I'm straight! I have a girlfriend, and a daughter! I shouldn't be kissing gu- I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND. I can't help but feel guilty. I've never kissed Rita like that- with so much intensity.

She'll probably be so mad if she finds out...

"Marty?" Carlo has stood up. He gently grabs my hand and I tense.

"I don't- I don't like you that way," I can't even bring myself to look at him. It feels like I'm breaking his heart. "I'm sorry." I pull my hand away from his.

He's silent, then simply nods. "...I understand."

I don't say a word, I just go back into my stuffy dressing room and collapse on the couch. My brain is a whirlwind of thoughts.

"He kissed me. Why would he kiss me? He's my best friend- we've known each other since we were in highschool! Does- does he like me...?" I hear a sigh outside the dressing room and footsteps. "Of course he likes me, why else would he kiss me?" I screw my eyes shut in frustration. "Rita will be so mad- how could I do that to her?! Not to mention poor Tina-" I stare up at the stains on the ceiling.

"He's probably drunk, that's why he did it." I think. Yeah- yeah! That's probably it! After all, the dressing room has a mini fridge in it, packed with sparkling water, soda and some cheap booze. I've only touched the soda but...some alcohol sounds great by now. I sit up slowly and walk over to the mini fridge. Yep. A shelf full of cans of some cheap stuff you'd only buy if you were a stupid dumb teen with a fake ID. Or Rudy.

I grab one, crack it open, and take a swig. "Eugh." Yeah I think that sums it up.

Thirty minutes, out of stress and thoughts that won't leave me be, I've polished off five cans, and I'm halfway through my sixth. So I'm more than tipsy when there's a knock on my door.

"Marty?" SHIT IT'S CLOVER FUCK OH NO NO NO I'M TRYING TO HAVE AN EXISTENTIAL CRISIS HERE I DON'T WANT YOU HERE DARLING SISTER NOT NOW-

"Uh. Yeah?"

"Rudy and Scarlet said we can leave. Get your stuff."

"Sure." SHIT FUCK NO NO FUCK AAAAAA-

I climb to my feet, and promptly stumble back into the wall. "Oof-" definitely drank too much. And I can still taste Carlo in my mouth. Great. Hurriedly, I put my jacket on and clean up my hair. It might be enough to give the illusion that I'm sober. I walk out of the changing room holding my guitar case and look at Clover.

She looks tired, and hopefully not in the mood for talking. She looks me over and frowns. "You doing okay?" She asks. Fuck.

"Yeah yeah- fine...'m just tired."

Clover frowns again, then shrugs and walks past me. "C'mon." She says simply. Okay, that went fine. She's not suspicious at all.

I follow her to the parking lot, just in time to see Scarlett wave at us through the window of her red pick-up before driving off. Leaving me with Clover and her green sedan. I toss my guitar case into the back seat and climb into the front. Clover revs up the engine and we begin the longest, most awkward drive of my life.

"Did you see the Romano Quartet were there?" Clover asks. I suddenly really wish the passenger side door wasn't locked.

"Huh? Yeah." I decide not to mention Carlo.

"Yeah, Carlo came by my dressing room. He seemed bothered about something so I mostly talked to Bruna," she glances at me. "Do you know what was bothering him?"

"Me? No. Why would I?"

"Well you're his best friend." She says. "Did you even talk to him?"

"No." I really, really don't want to talk right now.

"Why not?" She looks at me again, confused. "You guys haven't seen each other since..."

"Since you got your job at the sushi place." I finish, my tone firmer than I wanted it to be. Clover stops at a red light and looks me over.

"Marty- what's wrong?" She asks. I don't answer, just stare out the window. "Bro?"

"It's nothing." I mutter to her. She doesn't say anything, just starts driving again. The world seems to shake around me and I close my eyes tightly. Fucking booze- why did I drink so much?

The car comes to a halt outside me and Rita's house. I glance at Clover, then climb out. I hesitate. "Get home safe, okay sis?" I say before closing the door. I grab my guitar from the backseat, then walk up the garden path. My head is swimming and walking in a straight line feels impossible.

I fumble with my keys until the door magically opens and stumble inside, steadying myself as the world turns. Ugh- why did I have to drink so much...?

"Marty?" I look up in surprise at Rita, poking her head out of the living room doorway. She grins at me. "How was the show?"

"It- it was fine." I completely forgot I'd been at a show. All I remember is being shoved against a wall and kissed like it was the end of the world. "Venue was weird but- that's about it." I walk slowly towards the stairs, past Rita.

"Are you okay?" She asks. I nod and brave the first few steps.

"Yeah just- tired."

"...are you drunk?" I look over at her. Damn- guess my shaky walking threw me off.

"Rudy dared me to drink a whole bunch." I lie. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

"And you went with it?"

"I got $20." I say with a forced smirk. "Worth it."

Rita smiles at me a small bit. "Go get some rest, you big idiot."

I nod and slowly and carefully make my way up the stairs. I walk down the hall past Tina's room and into me and Rita's bedroom. I pull off my jacket and flop onto the bed. I shut my eyes and sigh, just processing everything that happened. "I have to tell Rita." I think guiltily. I roll over onto my side and curl up into a ball, trying to relax enough to sleep.

My mouth still tastes of fucking oregano.

[eyecicles]

Top 5 of your hot takes about Those!L? Haha whatever you want really, I just want to hear you talk about him basically

Oooh, let’s see (spoilers under the cut!) (also, I want to apologise in advance for rambling endlessly, lol):

1. Just the thought of L as a legendary totally corrupt gay lawyer is an aesthetic I’m in love with. When we first meet him, he’s described as “a bit of a mess with slicked back black hair”, and combined with L’s peculiar facial features, especially his eyes, you get a great mental picture of him. Also, I’m so glad that Those!Light is obsessed enough with both him and fashion to tell us what he’s wearing in great detail. Picturing L in nice suits is wonderful enough, but Light’s internal rants about his shitty sweaters or jeans are great too. I love how his energy his chaotic and refined at the same time. Also, I remember there was a scene where Light thinks that he has “something of winter”, and it’s just intriguing to read how his thoughts about L get slowly more and more poetic and romantic. Sometimes he romanticises him so much that his admiration turns to jealously. He was the first person to make Light wish he could be someone else for a moment and hnghnng, I love it

2. There were at least three scenes involving L that, well, felt like a knife to the heart:

The first one would right after L faked his death. B trying to convince Light that he’s dead indeed is heartbreaking enough, but this little scene here

I found one of L’s old sweet wrappers in my car ashtray when I pulled over, so I threw it out of the window and then regretted it. It was littering. Then the possibility hit me for the first time that I wouldn’t see him again apart from in grainy photographs or in the background, unfocused, in press footage. I had little to show of his existence or his effect on my life, so it was like he’d disappeared completely, and I was so frustrated that a fucking sweet wrapper suddenly held all these memories and emotions – it was pathetic. I’d thrown it away with no ceremony, only shaking hate. 

was so unbelievable painful to read, I had to stop for a moment.

The second one would be when Kira finds L’s picture inside Light’s drawer. Everything is written with such a care and detail, that I had to reread the entire segment a few times, actually. It was equally touching, funny, as it was, of course, heartbreaking. Especially this:

He still can’t understand but stays quiet about it. After a while of looking at the photo in confusion, he starts rummaging around in his pocket for something. I think that maybe it’s for crayons so he’ll draw on the glass and I know that I’ll let him do it and get some absurd satisfaction from the defacement. Maybe I’ll join in and go mad scribbling out L’s face with a furious black crayon, blotting out the only real thing of him that’s left until he is truly gone. But Kira pulls out a toy plane. I’m disappointed. I’m used to it. “Do you think that Eru would like my plane?”

“Yes. I think that he’d love your plane,” I say after a few moments of silent conflicting feelings.

and this:

“Is Eru your friend?“

"Yes.”

“Even if he’s deaded?”

“Yes. He’ll always be my friend.”

…I think this made me a cry a bit, if I remember correctly. (And I don’t cry easily) (Listen, I’m just very sensitive when it comes to L & death because of his actual canon fate)

And the final scene I want to mention isn’t “just” sad - it actually has kind of a happy ending (kind of because when is anything in “Those” truly happy, lmao). It’s when Light goes to L’s apartment with his divorce papers:

Sensing someone in the doorway, I force myself to look up in case I’m in someone’s way. L looks down at me, cast in shadow, but doesn’t say anything. Neither do I. I can’t read him, I don’t know what he’s thinking. I just exhale and feel how exhausted I am, and how relieved I am to see him. I thought you’d left me again, just when I made a clearing for you to take everything I have and make it yours. I’d take your name if you wanted me to. If I could. I’d become your property until the wrecking balls came, and be proud of it.

After a little while, I grasp my hair close to my scalp until it hurts and my eyes scrunch up from pain. For me in another time, this would be a mistake. It wouldn’t have happened. What the fuck went wrong?

L bends to pick up my dropped application for divorce, sees what it is and looks at me like he expects me to explain it. But I don’t have to, do I? I can’t give any more of myself than I already have done. When I don’t say anything, he walks to me and sits against the opposite wall. I’m not sure how much time passes with us sitting like that, but eventually he crawls towards me and kisses me like it’s a thank you. We don’t need words, you and I.

I touch the back of his head as another removal man steps over us.

3. Let’s talk about how fucking funny Those!L is for a moment. The first time I laughed uncontrollably, was when Light locked himself and L in a fucking baby’s changing room at Light’s birthday party:

Then there’s a knock behind him and my eyes flicker away from his to look at the door with someone who’s not welcome on the other side of it.

“Excuse me?” a woman’s voice asks. “Is anyone in there? I need to change my baby.”

L sighs and turns his head slightly to the side. “I’m afraid that you’re stuck with it, madam. You can’t swap it for another one. Kindly piss off.”

I also love his rant about Kitamura, where he just ends Light’s phone conference to force him to listen to him, or his reaction to Matt interrupting their breakfast at an Italian bistro, and especially the scene where Light watches L getting interviewed on TV. It’s too long of a scene to quote here, but as soon as I realised that he integrated the lyrics of “Under Pressure” into his totally inspirational speech, I completely lost it: 

“He’s a victim of a consumerist attitude where children are given money instead of love. He was unequipped to deal with life, and after the incident he’s confronted with the terror of knowing what this world is about. It’s watching some good friends screaming: ‘Let me out!’ And how does he cope? He prays that tomorrow he’ll get higher, higher, high. Drugs,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. He looks quite intense even though he’s talking absolute shit again.

(Also: “Are you going to celebrate with the Prime Minister, Lawliet-san? What do you think he’ll wear?” L stops as if this is a very important question and his smile and compulsive blinking fills me with dread. “Hope… hopefully…” he struggles, as though he’s trying to contain himself. Oh my God. Hopefully nothing? I stand up to shout at the TV. “Don’t say it, you bastard, don’t say it!”)

Anyway, the story his full of gems like that and it makes L weirdly likeable, even though he’s such a little shit.

4. Actually, let’s talk about this: I’ve rarely seen a character who’s such a complete and utter asshole in a way that allows you to still enjoy his presence. And I hate it when the narrative tries to force us to like some edgy, lame dude who’s forgiven for all the shit he does because he’s sexy and vaguely funny. But I never got the feeling that we were supposed to excuse anything shitty L does, mainly because he’s the love interest of someone just as horrible. You completely get why they are in love with each other, it’s not some kind of a beauty and the beast story, or about one person trying to make their love interest a better person. How Light and L treat each other, is most of the time extremely selfish on both ends. They have some tender moments too, but their are also believable. Those!L is exactly how I like my bastards.

5. All of L’s, eh, mental breakdowns are incredibly well-written. I remember when I first read the chapter where his father died, and getting completely blindsided by how deep this character suddenly was. Honestly, the entire scene with Astbury… made me sick to my stomach. It wasn’t at all what I expected, but that’s another testament to how high-quality “Those” is. I felt like that a bit too after Stephen died. And I was absolutely in awe when I realised that his reaction made even more sense when you find out that L himself killed him. I’m just so thankful that I can read a story for free that’s written with so much love and care for a character who isn’t even the protagonist.

[badbadmovies-blog1]

The Magic of Mika Penniman

Or, why you should watch Stasera Casa Mika

If you don’t currently live in western Europe or eastern Asia, you’ve likely never heard of Mika. You’d be forgiven for this. Despite being a household name in Italian and French speaking countries and a serious force in Korea, China and Japan, Mika is a virtual unknown in the English speaking world. This is a real shame. Mika is a pop star with a message and a countenance and a fandom distinct from any other. His greatest work is his 2 season Italian primetime variety extravaganza, Stasera Casa Mika, but it’s truly impossible to understand the show or its importance without an understanding of the man and the people who love him.

Mika is a man of many places and many languages. He was born in Lebanon, raised in Paris and London, is a fixture of television in France and Italy and keeps homes in Paris, Milan, London and Miami. One of his most immediately impressive talents is his ability to rapidly switch between speaking 3 or 4 languages across just a few sentences. On top of his native French and English and fluent Italian, he also speaks Spanish (moderately) some Arabic, and some Chinese. Search for him on YouTube and you‘ll find hundreds of videos of the man meeting his fans; it’s not uncommon to see him speak to 3 different people in 3 different languages, switching to respond in any language without so much as pausing. He’s tall and certainly handsome, albeit the latter in a non-traditional sense. His hair is curly and voluminous and sometimes completely out of control. His eyes are golden brown with hints of green, his jawline is sharp; yet still he describes his own face as “odd”. The chiseled handsomeness is offset by plump, often flushed cheeks and deep dimples. His smile is wide and bright and his front teeth are crooked. His appearance truly depends on his expression: when neutral or serious he’s solidly what anyone would call sexy. But he’s giggly and good natured, he smiles easily and often, and as soon as he does he shifts from sexy to simply adorable. With the crooked front teeth and plump pink cheeks he sometimes looks something like a bunny or a chipmunk. But still, a beautiful chipmunk.

Mika, serious

Mika, goofy

Even with his beauty it’s his personality that’s earned him so many fans. He’s bubbly and energetic on television and onstage, and while that’s 100% genuine, it’s more one of his moods than an accurate representation of his personality as a whole. There’s another side to him, equally entertaining but very different. Mika was snarky and loud when he first rose to fame at the age of 23 but as he’s aged he’s mellowed and calmed quite a bit. It’s an absolutely lovely transformation to witness if you’ve been following him for some time. Young Mika was hilarious and good hearted but sometimes brash and rude (to be fair, always entertainingly, endearingly, sassily so). The man he is now is pure and gentle. He’s soft-spoken and exceptionally kind. Watching him interact with his fans is like watching the human version of a cup of hot tea.  The man also seems to have stunning talent for feeling a room. He picks up on his fan’s emotions without a word being said. One of the best “Mika picking up on people’s feelings” stories involves him noticing a woman in his audience of thousands crying, and pulling her onstage mostly to hug her. Another fantastic tale tells of him going out of his way to ensure one of his fans felt included in a conversation when another person seemed to be getting all the attention. He told a fan on an airplane that he would meet her at the destination airport baggage claim to take a picture with her, and not only did he make good on that promise, the fan discovered he had no luggage of his own and went to baggage claim exclusively to wait for her. He’s got 2 dogs he dotes on and a penchant for sweater wearing. There’s something about him that just seems inherently huggable.

Mika’s claim to fame is his one of a kind brand of dark bubblegum pop. He pairs cheery, poppy music with dark, sometimes disturbing lyrics. Between the beat and the brisk singing, it’s easy to miss the lyrics entirely and get wrapped up in dancing around; this is the key to the success of formula. You may be thinking that cheerful music and dark lyrics are not unique, but this isn’t Melanie Martinez. Mika doesn’t lean on the darkness of his lyrics, singing to the camera with dramatic pauses to make sure you get it. He just sings, and trusts that his audience is smart enough to understand the point on their own. It’s on you to notice that the cheery song about teenage freedom you’re singing gleefully to on a summer afternoon contains the words “Left here on my own/ I’m gonna hurt myself”.

Mika’s first two albums, Life in Cartoon Motion and The Boy Who Knew Too Much, are about his childhood and adolescence viewed through an abstract lens. Most of the songs are vignettes about imaginary characters in metaphorical and absurd situations, but all of what might first seem like nonsense has meaning. It’s a distanced way to talk about real things, and Mika has plenty of real things to work with. His family was evacuated from Lebanon during the Lebanese Civil War in 1983 and his father was held as a hostage in the Gulf War for 8 months when Mika was just 8 years old. Mika suffered badly from dyslexia, did poorly in school (not helped by cruel teachers), and was mercilessly bullied to point of going mute for a while. His music draws on all this inner pain and a talent for empathy to write darkness in a way that feels authentic. It never feels like just an emo aesthetic. His third album, The Origin of Love, diverges from theme for an airier sound and more cheerful lyrics. It’s an album about love in forms both positive and negative, and it feels much warmer and more optimistic than the work that came before. His 4th (and as of this writing, most recent) album, No Place in Heaven, is another departure from his previous work. If Life in Cartoon Motion and The Boy Who Knew Too Much discuss Mika’s life and problems in metaphor and simile, No Place in Heaven is the clear, plain English version, without the euphemistic wordplay. The album discusses Mika’s anxieties, from the trivial to the existential, with detail and without fear. No Place in Heaven is the modern English facing page translation to Life in Cartoon Motion and The Boy Who Knew Too Much’s Shakespearean stanzas. “Good Wife” is about the pain of a gay man in love with his straight friend and speaks his thoughts that he would be a much better partner than his friend’s unkind wife; “All She Wants” is an unflinching description of Mika’s fears that he’s a disappointment to his mother. “L’amour Fait ce Qu’il Veut” is an uncomplicated love song which manages to simultaneously remain unpolitical and make a clear statement by simply using the grammatical gendering system of the French language to assign male pronouns to the entity of love. The musical sound itself is different from his previous music. It’s more singer-songwriter, more guitar-heavy, and less electronic, but the whole thing is still recognizably Mika. This album feels like a catharsis for him. It’s not that he ever seemed sad or depressed, but post No Place in Heaven Mika seems like a new man. He looks healthier and happier than he ever has before. It’s as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

Mika’s honest lyrics and cheerful music have attracted a large, exceptionally dedicated and tight-knit fan base. Mika’s fans aren’t fans simply because they enjoy his music. They’re fans because they find comfort in his lyrics and his philosophy. You’ll always find at least some people in any fandom who feel this way, but for Mika fans it’s the rule. Ask any of them why they love Mika or how they discovered him and they’ll tell you a story that describes Mika or his music being there for them at a point in their life when it was most needed.

Mika is deeply important to people. Celebrities have fans, Mika has a flock. His fandom, largely (though not entirely) young and mostly (though not entirely) female, flourishes predominately on Twitter, Instagram, and a dedicated fan forum, where they communicate with each other across time zones and language barriers, often learning parts of languages they otherwise don’t speak. There’s a warmth here, a deep love and concern for each other. These people, most of whom are in some form of school, are spending their spare time learning languages by choice only to understand each other, and Mika, better. Due to Mika’s aforementioned cross-language popularity and success, to be a Mika fan is to be at least partly bi- or tri-lingual.  A short venture into #mikainstagram on Instagram (Mika and his fans have dedicated their own tag based on his Instagram handle, as #Mika is flooded with posts about a coincidentally named anime character) will show you thousands of affectionate posts about Mika, common for any fandom, but they talk about him in the kind of elevated language people normally use to discuss royalty. Even the absolute briefest interactions with his fans prompt deeply emotional responses. Even a smile matters. And it’s sincere - there’s no sarcasm here, no snark, absolutely no “too cool for it” artificial lack of concern. The people who speak about how Mika’s smile changed their life aren’t kidding in the slightest. He genuinely has that power and that kind of energy; it’s unique and almost impossible to understand without being inside it. When he’s part of Q&A sessions (he tends to do at least one a year), he doesn’t get asked nearly as many questions about himself and his music as he gets asked for general life advice. When given the opportunity, Mika’s fans literally bring him their problems, as if to the world’s coolest advice columnist.

All this information is necessary because what Casa Mika is and the effect it has is hard enough to explain on paper alone, and becomes completely impossible to explain without all the context (watching the show, however, will provide all this context pretty immediately whether you’ve ever heard of Mika or not; he really is magic and you’ll pick up on his energy immediately). Mika is a source of wisdom and a protective presence to his fans. He’s trusted and relied on in a way that celebrities rarely are, and he therefore finds himself in a position of power to influence many young people’s lives for the better.

Being a judge on the Italian version of The X Factor launched Mika into household name status in Italy as people who discovered him through his television appearances then discovered his music. Italy has become his strongest market since his time on X factor. Italy also has a long tradition of primetime variety television shows, and 2016 they were ripe for a new one. Mika’s creative wheels happened to be turning, and so Stasera Casa Mika was born.

Casa Mika (almost always referred to in this way, the “Stasera” is generally left off) is a very hard thing to put into words simply due to it being…really hard to put into words, but “variety show” still comes the closest to a concise description. The concept is fairly simple: Mika is your host, inviting you into his home. “Stasera Casa Mika” translates roughly into “Tonight at Mika’s house” in Italian. There are skits, comedy segments, and many musical performances, some starring Mika and some not. In between all this Mika talks to the camera and undergoes a breathtaking number of outfit changes. The first episode opens with Mika driving the tiniest car imaginable and singing to his dogs, and it really only gets warmer and softer from there. He’s got a co-presenter in both seasons. The first, Anglo-Italian actress Sarah Felberbaum, has a presence and warmth that mixes perfectly with Mika’s. They make fantastic presentation partners. Sarah is replaced in the second season by Luciana Littizzetto, who’s a pure gem and brings a whole lot of love and light with her. It works extremely well in the context of the second season.

There’s a whole genre of media that I adore but find it hard to put a name to. For lack of a better term, call it “self-confident”. It’s art that doesn’t care if it’s objectively good or if it has wide appeal. It’s only concerned with being whatever it’s going to be, and trusts that the right audience will find it. Sometimes it turns out objectively good and sometimes it doesn’t, but’s always interesting. Within this genre you’ll find the shamelessly and unabashedly joyful and pure things. Joyful and pure are not en vogue. Media was forcefully sugar coated and inaccurate to real life for so long that a collective decision was made that everything has to be realistic and gritty, that we’ve got no time left for fearless joy. But every now and then you find a movie or show that’s just good and pure and has no qualms about being so.

My personal benchmark for this genre is Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. If you’re a child of anywhere between the early 70s and the late 2000s and you spent time watching American public television, you probably at least occasionally watched Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. Hosted by Fred Rogers, a man who can only be accurately described as an angel walking on the face of this undeserving earth, Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood was a slow paced and kind children’s show which discussed very real and serious problems and current events in grounded and intelligent ways that children could understand. Yet between the much needed and challenging social commentary was a lovely, caring show that wanted nothing from you. It protected you. Fred Rogers ended every episode with a lovely song about how he loves and cares for you, he’s just happy you’re alive. Mister Rogers and his show hold a very special place in the hearts of the people who grew up with them. For those people mere mention of it is bound to start them crying. It stuck with people, and it does to this day.

Casa Mika, to me, feels like a version of Mister Rogers for adults. It manages to be joyful without ignoring problems in life and in the world. Old media was joyful as it pretended that life was always perfect and nothing was ever thorny. Casa Mika is joyful despite the thorniness of general existence. It doesn’t shy away from problems or politics; it just takes them in its joyful stride. It’s sort of like an uplifting emotional movie. You’ll cry but it will still bring you up in the end. Mika talks about human and civil rights, about poverty, about crime, about prisons, and you still come out the other side feeling a whole lot better than you did before.

Most episodes of Casa Mika follow a similar format: Mika opens the show with a pre-filmed skit that leads into the opening number of the show, a large and energetic performance of the show’s theme song. The show itself is a mishmash, with any number of live and pre-filmed skits and performances. Common segments include: Mika driving a taxi, learning how to do a job from someone, traveling Italy meeting talented musicians from unlikely places, musical performances by Mika and others, and interviews with celebrities. Mika ends every episode by climbing into an oversized bed while wearing pajamas, gently bidding goodnight to the audience, and shutting off the studio lights. It’s important to know this show originally went off at 11:30 PM – people really were going to bed; he’s truly bidding his audience goodnight.

Stasera Casa Mika promo photos

The cheerful opening, the calm come-down ending, and the clearly defined structure brings to mind children’s night time television. It brings to mind children’s television in general; it brings to mind Mister Roger’s Neighborhood. And somehow that’s exactly what it is, simply aimed at a very different audience. Casa Mika is Mister Rogers for the 2018 young adult or teenager. It’s darker and slightly cracked. It’s facing the real problems of the world but it’s facing them led by this lovely, protective figure of a man. He’s even got the sweater and sneakers at one point. It’s as if Mister Rogers was painted by Picasso.

It’s important to draw a distinction between the two seasons of Casa Mika. They’re two seasons of the same show but they’re still separate entities in a lot of ways. They’re both uplifting but season one is more purely joyful while season 2 deals more consistently with harder topics. Season 2 introduces Gregory, a large monster who looks like he jumped straight out of Where the Wild Things Are. Gregory is introduced as Mika’s close friend, and It’s made clear in unambiguous language that Gregory suffers from crippling, chronic depression. If you started watching Casa Mika to forget all your problems this show has other plans for you. Mika’s more or less taking care of Gregory, and he explains that he does this because sometimes you have to, and that sometimes the best way to help people is to simply be present. Gregory gets a whole lot of screen time over the course of the season, and every moment he’s on screen is taken as a moment to provide some simple but effective comfort for everyone watching who’s going through a mental illness of some kind or other.

The first season of Casa Mika is free, joyful, loud and pure. The skits and performances are hilarious and uplifting. It’s all one giant party, bringing as much energy as it can straight to your heart. It lifts you out of your problems enough that you feel strong enough to look them in the eye. The second season of Casa Mika gently guides you through those problems, in the kind of way that makes you weep, but it’s a good weeping. It’s a cathartic, detoxifying weeping. Casa Mika came right on the heels of Mika’s newfound lightness after No Place in Heaven, so watching the series feels a bit like joining him on a journey, an emotional experience you’re on together. Much like you, the viewer, Mika takes a season to be truly free and the next to face problems, some of which are quite clearly his own. If you watch the show, the whole show, all 8 episodes, in order, you’ll be taken on a teary eyed trip through Mika’s mind and your own, and all the dark corners of both.

If you go into this show with a feeling that no one cares about you and no idea who Mika is, you’ll come out the other side feeling slightly better because now you know there’s a guy named Mika who cares about you. And like Mika’s music, this somehow manages to feel truly authentic. While there have been a million people and a million celebrities who speak and post and tweet encouragement to mental illness sufferers, Mika is easier to believe. I tend to think it’s in his presentation. His message is less of a blithely optimistic (and often annoying) “THINGS WILL GET BETTER” and more of a soft hug from a friend telling you that yes, things will eventually get better but even more importantly that they still love you while things AREN’T better. Mika focuses on the normalcy and okay-ness of sadness and depression, that there’s nothing to be ashamed of in your struggles. He’s got so many of his own (it’s heavily implied that Gregory is not only a fictional character but an anthropomorphization of Mika’s own mental health struggles) that he’s able to talk about mental health from the perspective of someone who’s not only been there but has developed a philosophy that holds optimism and realism in just the right balance to be comforting but not infuriatingly positive. Like a really good therapist, Mika makes you feel better about the future without making you want to punch him.

It’s all written and presented in such a way that it will only really affect you if you too suffer – if you have no struggles, Casa Mika’s discussion of them won’t bring you down. The show remains uplifting and energetic throughout, and if you take it on without needing any particular catharsis it will simply be one of the best and most entertaining things you’ve ever watched. Mika is like human sunlight, an actual joy on your television. But let’s face it: that’s not the case for most of us. Something about the present is just hard for everyone, and most of us are struggling with something. Maybe you, reader, don’t. And that is FANTASTIC! Now go find a TV and watch Casa Mika, because it will only make you happier. But perhaps you DO suffer from something. Many things. Maybe you’re a little sad or a little afraid. Or maybe it’s worse. Maybe you’re reading this in a bed you don’t feel like you have the energy to get out of. If that’s the case, here is my advice. Join mikafanclub.com . It’s free and easy and all they want is an email. Joining will give you access to their thread of English subtitles. As Casa Mika’s broadcast language is Italian, you’ll probably want them. From that thread you can find watch links for all 8 episodes of Stasera Casa Mika. Watch them. Watch them all, in order. They’re about 3 hours each, so it’s a solid 24 hours of television. I recommend a pace of about half an episode a day. There’s a lot going on and there’s so few of them, so it’s best both to give yourself time to absorb each half episode and to stretch them out as long as you can. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry a lot.

To be clear, I’m not claiming or suggesting that 24 hours of Italian television will cure your depression. But it will put you through something. You’ll be made happier and more introspective in turn. And in the end, the very end, the part where I always end up grossly sobbing, you’ll probably be grossly sobbing too. And it’ll feel like crying out emotional toxins. Like a really intense therapy session, emotionally exhausting but purifying. Sometimes the cure we all need is a little bit of snot running down our faces.

Written by Savannah

Find me on Instagram Twitter Mika Fan Club

Useful links:

Mika Fan Club (site with English subtitles for Casa Mika available after free registration)

Stasera Casa Mika on Rai 2 Season 1 Season 2 (watch for free,no registration required, no strings attached)

Casa Mika season 1 trailer

“Won’t You Be My Neighbor” (documentary film about Mister Rogers) trailer if you aren’t familiar with Mister Rogers

[viglianogis4680-blog]

Blog Post 6

Poems by Pasolini- I am very interested in Pasolini, not only after reading his poetry but especially after Tuesday’s class. He’s very similar to me, a gay, Italian, communist, (only difference is I’m an Atheist)…. but anyway after knowing more about his background and identity, his poetry is all the more intriguing. In “Him or You”, he critiques the Israeli occupation of Palestine, followed by critiquing the Liberal Bob Kennedy for supporting the war, with these facts known exactly how critical was he of the Catholic Church. We know he was critical of the liberal side and the conservative side of the church, but at the end of the day he was still “Catholic”, so were his criticisms not substantial enough to un-identify as Catholic? Or is this just an added layer of his already controversial character? If that’s the case I find that very interesting, but still am slightly skeptical of that aspect of his work.

Revelator- If I were to read this poem 100% objectively, without reading in-between the lines, I would literally think this guy was just writing whatever was coming to his mind, and on each line break, he decided to change the subject. Now, looking at it while reading for context clues, and deeper understandings, I see things slightly (very slightly) different. From what I know, Revelator means like revealing something, or someone that exposes something to people. He hints at people need to be more conscious of what they’re directing their energy at in the lines, “One hour shopping & the vandal’s fled – him we’ll know not, never confront so recall the next day that anger directed at complexity..” I think he also hints at people not wanting to divulge into information that they might not be already attracted to, something needs to grab their attention “plot too dense to follow, unless (unless!) mind’s eye gives attention First”.  

Me and My Pharaoh- This poem itself is very hard to understand, but one line in particular really sticks out to me. “Better truth in the shade than a lie in the sun”. Is it better to hear the hard truth, or to hear a sugar-coated lie? Is that what that means? Or is it more of a sly truth compared to an outright lie? Another line that got to me was “God has no doctrine, no morality, no responsibility. To sin against God is to use that name to justify any action or prohibition, whether murder or martyrdom”. I may not be reading this right but is he dissing “God” in this, or dissing the people that worship him? Or maybe I’m just completely off, but if he is somehow pointing out hypocrisies in religion or God, I find it very interesting.

Interview with Charles Bernstein: I find it really interested that he was drawn to the most seemingly “boring”, types of literary works such as handbooks, dictionaries, and encyclopedias as inspiration for his work. I had never thought of something like this, and absolutely envy Bernstein for having the creative outlook to even come up with something like this. I have taken a few poetry classes, and sometimes write in my free time (which is like close to never nowadays) not once has a class or anyone told me to draw inspiration from a dictionary. I think this is interesting though in the sense of how it relates to capitalism, and how with competition, there’s always a need to one up someone, and be as creative as possible. Nobody would ever to stop and think they would beat the rest of the competition by drawing inspiration from a cookbook.

The Difficult Poem: This reading actually highlighted a phase I went through with this class specifically. I was reading poetry from each model, and most of the time when I would not understand something, I would ask myself some of the questions Bernstein puts out, “Why me?” or “What am I doing that’s making this poem difficult?”. And after a few weeks, I started to realize that it wasn’t me (entirely), and I could effectively attack a difficult poem without getting upset or frustrated.

Against National Poetry Month As Such- I am very intrigued by Bernstein’s critique of National Poetry month. Specifically in a class earlier Tuesday 4/11, I brought up how certain rappers (specifically Lupe Fiasco) tend to have their more popular/mainstream songs be about things the ruling elite either want to hear or don’t care about hearing (i.e. Kick, Push; Battle Scars) as opposed to songs that actually don’t become very popular, but talk about real life, political, and economic issues (i.e. Little Weapon, Words I Never Said). It’s interesting to see this similarity in rap and poetry, and how much the mainstream is highlighted, and specifically how Bernstein explains the mainstream poetry talks about the happy emotions, poetry that’s easy to understand.  

Disappearance of the Word, Appearance of the World- What I find interesting about this piece is his understanding of Capitalism and it’s influence on language. More specifically how language develops differently in areas/groups that have somewhat been historically either colonized or oppressed under Capitalism. This is also makes me think of present-day, language moving specifically with LGBTQ folk. How many people get uncomfortable or upset with people identifying as them/they, or non-gender binary; they get upset and say “you’re making all this up”, but not realizing we are simply creating the language for an already historically existing population.