#it hurts to call him that because in my heart he is Also ''peppino''. or y'know just go with ''goopino''

[buttercup-barf]

You know what? I'm intrigued by you. [ENA'ifies your Peppino Spaghetti]

I think a funny equivalent to Ena's total mental breakdown where she goes grey would be him getting so stressed he's neither horrified and panicked, nor violent and unhinged. He just. Goes blank. Not even in an angsty hollowed way, but just in an "Eh. Whatever." way, lmao.

And there are some other doodles under the cut! Expand! IF YOU DARE...... >:-)

Not gonna tag Mellow, because. Holy shit what have I done to him. I do, however, like the idea of him, Ena, and Peppino being some sort of a trio. Two surreal fellas and A Normal Man (who is more unhinged than the other two combined). Oh, also The Very Much Real Peppino is there too!

What hyperfixation? What new hand-therapy character? I don't know what you're talking about! /j

And these are just a reference to this video! ... I can explain.

Not tagging Noise either, because I did not do him justice there.

And a final assortment of floating heads and torsos, since I am. Still figuring him out. I do like the guy! He's very silly. (The one in the middle is miserable because every time I try adapting him to my usual style it goes as poorly as here.)

[fuckyeahmadridlegends]

The man who gave his heart to Madrid (literally)

“As for your gentle invitation to becqueath a souvenir of my humble person to the Museum of the Teatro Real, I’ll answer you in al simplicity, even if I’m still alive. My breast still houses that muscular and impulsive dynamo we call heart; there are engraved, with indelible letters, the words Spain, Faith, Gratefulness, Love, which are like the four cardinal points. Well, I have left dispositions in my will for it to be placed near the bust of the divine Gayarre... I hope this will be enough, and I embrace you, and with you I embrace all the people of Madrid...”

Such were the words of the tenor Giuseppe Anselmi in a letter dated June 1925 and adressed to Luis París, then impresario of Madrid’s opera house, the Teatro Real. Born Antonio Giuseppe Anselmi in 1876 in Nicolosi, near Catania, in the East cost of Sicily. Anselmi was one of the most famous tenors of the first half of the 20th Century. After studying violin and piano in the Conservatory of Naples, he joined a troupe of operetta singers. Then legend says he was heard by the music publisher Giulio Ricordi, who advised him to go under vocal training with one of Italy’s most famous conductors, Luigi Mancinelli. Although there are sources that claim he did his debut as early as 1896, his official debut took place in 1900 at the Teatro San Carlo, in Naples.

The tenor soon made his way to the stages of Milan, London, St. Petersburg, Montecarlo, Brussels, Warsaw or Buenos Aires... He was admired because of his voice; it didn’t hurt that he was considered also a matinée idol, with his stage presence and his good looks. Short story, he became extremely popular. However, there was a special place where Anselmi was the absolute king, a place where the audience wouldn’t tire of him. A place where even Caruso failed to make the same impression. And that place was Madrid.

Our tenor made his debut there in January 1907, as Des Grieux in Massenet’s Manon. During eleven years (his last performance in the Teatro Real took place in 1918) he was the city’s favourite tenor. Apart from being popular as an opera singer, he won everyone’s hearts. The above mentioned Luis París considered him a charming lad, sympathetic and candid, humble and a good friend. Humble or not, Peppino Anselmi liked going to festivals in Madrid’s neighbourhoods, enjoying the company of the city’s inhabitants, more than that of the aristocratic salons.

 Anselmi’s career as an opera singer was truncated by First World War, and once it was finished, he barely stepped on a stage again, retiring to Italy, composing and teaching. His love for Madrid remained intact. When in 1924 the museum of the city’s opera house was organized, souvenirs from singers who had performed there started to arrive... And it was then when Anselmi offered his heart, to be placed next to the bust of another legendary tenor, Julián Gayarre. Little he knew that his gift to the city would arrive earlier than expected. Only four years after Anselmi’s offer, he died of pneumonia.

Thus the tenor’s heart started its eventful journey to Madrid, with another tenor (the Spaniard José Riera, one of Anselmi’s pupils) charged with the strange mission of bringing it to Spain. Things where made difficult at the Spanish border. Not impressed with Anselmi’s hommage, the authorities only gave permission to bring his heart to the Antropology Museum, where it remained during a year until Mr. París obtained permission to place it next to Gayarre’s bust. Our impresario left an account of this depressing visit.

Before me I had the only thing left of a good man, of the triumphant singer who was my friend. I remembered the nervous beating of that heart, when, everytime he left the stage, he embraced me, muttering ‘I am so happy, my dear Luis; I am so happy!’ (...)

But this wasn’t the end of the story. War had stopped Anselmi’s career, war almost destroyed his strange legacy. During the Spanish Civil War, the opera house became a munitions depot and, between that and the bombardment of the city, Anselmi’s heart was considered lost. However, it was saved by Fernando José de Larra, the new impresario, after venturing himself through the debris. The damaged opera house was no longer a safe place for what remained of its collections. And thus Anselmi’s heart had to do yet another voyage...

Today, Anselmi’s extravagant offer to the city of his success is housed at the National Museum of Theatre at Almagro, Ciudad Real. Maybe is time to return to Madrid again?