#james bond lexicon

[patart-illustrations-stuff]

 I'm beginning to like you, Mr. Bond.

Shirley Eaton as Jill Masterson

Goldfinger

art from The James Bond lexicon written by Alan J. Porter and Gillian J. Porter, cover and interior art by Pat Carbajal

[somehowmags]

Fun fact: the book is not just supposed to be a fantasy of our world, it’s the 1516 novel Utopia by Thomas More. Hence More’s name, the name of the king, Hythlodaeus (from Raphael Hythlodaeus, the narrator of the book), and the name of More’s cat, Plateau (from Plato’s The Republic, as Raphael discusses Plato within the novel). There are a lot of other references to the novel within the game and its lore. That part in the Memorandum where it mentions that slave classes exist as punishment for crimes, for example, is something straight from Utopia. The word “utopia” actually entered people’s lexicons from More’s novel, as he used it for the name of his fictional country. From the start, this More is very much inspired by the real one. They were both arrested for treason, locked up by the king in a tower, and apparently executed. (No clue how he’s still alive but I guess I’ll find out.) The game points out flaws in the ideology of the in-universe utopian novel, as well as More’s novel, though it’s less obvious if you’re unfamiliar with the contents of the book.

ahhh i knew about the thomas more connection but i didn't know about the rest of this! i haven't read utopia (although maybe i should one of my textbooks this semester has a couple excerpts from it i think) but i figured there must be references to it i was missing w/plateau especially bc that is so specific of a name to NOT be a reference lol. and yeah i read that part of the memorandum too and i was honestly so shocked bc i didn't remember that being discussed anywhere else? i do wish they'd brought it up before that, but maybe they will later since im also still playing through (about. 50 hours in now according to steam. God Damn. story wise ive just finished the dragon temple).

i did like the bits where the characters talk about the novel in universe and sometimes critique it. esp with heismay's critique that (iirc that was like 20 hours of gameplay ago LMAO) that the novel doesn't provide a way for the weak to protect themselves. its a really good way of showing both the characters and their ideologies and what the book presents as a utopia. i don't remember where this quote came from (may have been an episode of kill james bond? in my head i remember november saying this but who knows) i remember hearing someone say when critiquing a work of art you also reveal a part of yourself and the game shows that with what each character focuses on when they read the book, like [REDACTED SPOILER] focusing on art and [REDACTED SPOILER] focusing on religion.

im really excited to see where the game is going with all of this. like ive said before i don't have like, a TON of faith in atlus's writing, but i really really hope they stick the landing for this because so far the writing is really good.

[1-more-chapter-until-i-pass-out]

Quotes/conversions from my English Teacher because I think people on Tumblr would really like him

-"Will you physically hurt me?"

*shouting from the corridor* "After I finish explaining this, I'm going to see what that's about because let's be honest, I'm really interested."

-"I hate children."

-"When you're not at school, it's a lovely day."

-"I'd just get a new job then."

-"Pay attention, I am the most important one here."

Boy, joking about his friend : "He's my ginger boyfriend." Teacher : "Why did you have to specify ginger?" Boy : I have a lot of boyfriends

-"As you get on with this task, I shall go yell at the small child outside who decided that now is a good time to lay on the floor."

Boy : Sir guess what. English teacher : what. Boy : I can speak English. Want to see?English teacher : alright shut up, -boys name- Boy : tea and crumpets

-"I'll point it over this way so I don't kill a child."

-"Yes yes, welcome to English, you're all graced to be in my presence, and yes I find - girl who's name is a season- annoying."

-"We're going to use good words and synonyms for emotions, because we all have emotions, except -midget boy- who is incapable of human emotions."

-"Did you just call me Sire? You know what, I respect that."

-"When and why did you stop calling me Sire? I liked it."

-"I was absolutely stupid, thinking I could pick a lock with a stick. The stick snapped and wouldn't come out, and my mum had to call a locksmith. Then she bought me a pink pom pom key chain so I never forget my keys again."

-"I thought I could be the next James Bond."

-"Continue with this task while I figure out how to punch someone and get away with it."

-"Did you just hit your head against the window? You'll lose all your braincells."

-"Jokes on you, I already cry in my car on the way to school."

-"No one could be stupider than -an annoying boy in my class-."

-"Would you rather do work? I wouldn't."

-*hears ambulance* "Is that for -meme boy-? It will be soon if he doesn't shut up..."

-"And a hush descends on the crowd"

-"I am god among men."

-"Its lessons like these that make me wonder who the idiot who hired me was."

Midget : Sir, he just called me a chuuaiichuihahha! Sir : and I agree. You're small and yappy. Newest boy : I have 2 of them. Someone : you act like them too. You bite people. You've bit me.

-"No, I'm not going to have a mental breakdown, but a nervous one."

-"what do you mean Spanish? This is Greek!" Person : no I said French" French? That's even worse! They're not even in the same area."

English teacher : you should be more like -my name-. Girl : but what if I want to be myself? English teacher : you can be anything, as long as its like -my name-

-"Stop that, I'm the main character, not you."

-"I bring main character energy."

-"Yes, indeed, I have a suitcase. If anyone sees my mum, please tell her I've made it."

-"I am not your bro. You don't deserve to be my bro."

English teacher : I'm very advanced in speaking in the English lexicon. Am I not, -girls name-? Girl : I don't know what that means. English teacher : I'm good wi' words an' dat, innit?

He was trying to make people smile as quickly as he could, and someone said "Try -my name-! She never smiles!" and sir replied "She does smile, just not at you because you're not funny."

Girl : *staring out the window* the clouds are moving. English teacher : wow you are so not ready to hear about the sun

Person : *falling asleep* English Teacher : wake up! Would -my name- fall asleep at a desk? A few people : yeah, yes, definitely

He thinks chuichaihaasas (them dogs) would d!e from a heart attack if drop kicked them. "They're used to being like 4cm off the ground, imagine just being picked up and thrown."

He also asked a short boy if he needed a booster seat to see.

One time he wanted us to be quiet so he shouted "FREEZE!" and absolutely everyone shut up and froze. He stayed quiet for a bit, looking at us a bit dumbfounded and impressed and then said "If I had known that Freeze would work so well, I'd have used it earlier."

And whenever we do a quiz in Englishhe likes to write down wrong answers only on the whiteboard. He did a quiz with another class and left the wrong answers on the board. One was "his bro was fitter" and "with Elon Musk and his cat WXYZ".

Plus he didn't know what paper poppers were so someone showed him and he basically looked like this -

[chdarling]

Don't know if I've missed the boat (happy holidays!) but I needed time to process the incredible chapter. First off, James and the "Eat. You'll feel better" and how Remus says that to Harry years later. Also, I have a theory that if/when people find out about grily, and since blackevans is a "thing", will they take a leaf out of Peter's book and claim an open relationship? Imagine if that started a trend at Hogwarts just like the muggles clothes peaceful protest. All the best on your break :)

LOLL. This is how Peter and Lily bond. Bringing polygamy to general populace of Hogwarts. 🥰

Also, on a more serious note, thank you for pointing out the “Eat. You’ll feel better” moment! That was one of fave little parts of the chapter. One of the loveliest things about friendship, I think, is the way the things our friends say wiggle their way into our own personal lexicons, and I took a lot of pleasure in finding little ways to show that reflected in adult Remus and Sirius in canon from little moments James (or Lily) in TLE. James trying to feed his loved ones, Sirius singing Christmas carols, etc…It’s so fulfilling when people point them out, so thank you!!!

[clare-with-no-i]

do you listen to anything while writing? x

omg what a great question!! yes, I absolutely do! if a song is mentioned in the title, notes, or even in the text of one of my stories, you can trust that I was listening to it while writing! many of my best friends in college actually majored in music production, and I grew up in a musician-heavy household, so music means a lot to my creative process. I’ll admit I got a little excited and went a bit nuts with this answer, lol...

here are my go-to’s for different characters/stories:

for emotional moments, I listen to a lot of Novo Amor and Bon Iver.  Such beautiful music essentially aimed at dredging up emotions, lol.  Also, and I cannot stress this enough, Shrike by Hozier.  That song...haunts me. It is the entire reason “like a cry at the final breath that is drawn” exists - that’s actually a lyric!! Hozier, you genius wordsmith, you.

when I’m writing Bond and Free, I listen to a 70′s British Rock playlist when I’m writing the boys/girls/big ensemble scenes.  I find that this really helps me set the scene in my head, and it’s also been part of my research for 70s media and lexicon! When I’m writing more personal scenes, I’ve taken to listening to Adele a lot - specifically, “Chasing Pavements.” Her music is so cinematic, it really helps me get into the idea that I’m writing a big, meaningful (to me at least) story, one that features a lot of moving parts and big moments. I also really like listening to film scores LOL, Hans Zimmer is great.  An all-time favorite is “Agape” by Nicholas Britell, who scored If Beale Street Could Talk. That is hands-down one of the best ambient pieces I’ve ever heard, ever.

when I write James’s dialogue, I find that I really enjoy listening to the Arctic Monkeys.  Alex Turner sings with a suave sort of smugness that I feel like translates really well to how I picture James, ever-present smirk and artfully messy hair. 

I like listening to The Smiths with Sirius, and sometimes Queen - “Bohemian Rhapsody” is just such a Sirius Black song.  Remus gets somewhat more yearning stuff, a bit of Sampha and Yebba, along with David Bowie and the Talking Heads, because for some reason I feel like he and David Byrne would get along lol ??? Also, we all know I have to throw in “All The Young Dudes” by Mott the Hoople.

Lily’s is a bit odd, admittedly, lol.  I really like listening to the band Hiatus Kaiyote for her - it’s a neo-soul band that has incredible jazz-inspired rhythms and really complex instrumentation.  Their song “Molasses” is incredible; I’ve always felt like Lily is one of the most layered characters for me to write, and this vocals are classically harmonic but placed over a really, really brilliant groove - I like to think that Lily has her own groove, one that not many people would understand at first glance, and it underlies this face-value intelligence that I think the song communicates really well.  Also, SZA. I can’t really explain that one, but SZA. all this topped off with a fair dose of Sara Bareilles 

Jily scenes see a lot of “Ophelia” by The Lumineers, Regina Spektor, anything by Billie Eilish, lots of songs off of the album Assume Form by James Blake, and classical music.  I’m a sucker for “Romeo and Juliet Overture” by Tchaikovsky, along with “Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune” by Claude Debussy.  Also, “Claire de Lune.”

Marlene, Dorcas, and Mary are a lot of Joan Jett and The Cranberries. Lots of girl rock, lots of power guitar.  Alice and Frank are just love ballads LOL.

whew! I loved answering this. honestly, this is just the tip of the musical iceberg, but I hope I answered this question to your liking!! :) :) xx

[yeoldontknow]

As Still As Sound: 4

Author’s Note: thank you to everyone who has patiently waited for this update. ive been waiting for it too. ily so much. i hope you enjoy <3  Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader (oc; female) Songs Mentioned: From Her To Eternity - Nick Cave and The Badseeds / Cry To Me - Solomon Burke Genre: soulmate!au; angst; fluff; romance Rating (this chapter): R Warnings: some mature sexual themes; explicit language Word Count: 9K

masterlist

Months ago, the concert was your idea, a thing you suggested with fire behind your teeth and adrenaline in your veins. 

You remember, now, the way your hands rushed to buy the tickets, typing passwords and entering pre-sale codes, telling Kate over and over down the phone that you’d pay for hers if you got in, that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity - that Nick Cave, more than anyone, had constructed your adulthood. In your heart, you carried him, the sound of his voice, and the words from his lips - a soundtrack of misery, anguish, and the fleeting experience of contentment that painted your journey into maturity red and red and red. 

Months ago, Kate agreed, her excitement at the prospect of joining you almost wild and ravenous. Together, you’d looked forward to this, marked days on calendars and held the tickets in your hands in the morning before work, disbelieving and somewhat overwhelmed.

Today, the concert is her idea, a suggestion born purely from kindness; a friendly reminder you need to go out, away from your home and away from your constant, desperate soundtrack - released, finally, from your state of entrapment.

It is not, you imagine, that your anticipation of the show has ceased - far from it - merely that your anticipation and excitement has been redirected to a man whose voice is just as low, just as effective, and meant for your ears alone. The gravel nestled within Chanyeol’s voice is a chocolate honeycomb of affection, putting syrup and sweetness and devotion into your blood - a sugar rush upon which you get high; where Nick’s lyrics remind you of the heartbreak so unilaterally partnered with the act of living, Chanyeol’s words - simple and unpoetic as they often are - ignite the hope you had scorned and turned away, putting the thrill of living back into your lungs.

For weeks you have wondered if this is how people live now, if this is how people had been living long before the solar flare - endlessly searching and seeking, restless and waiting for the vibrancy of an overeager heartbeat; hoping and hoping and hoping to be touched and felt and needed. 

Until Chanyeol, this was not you. These types of deep rooted, tenacious emotions carried with them an unprecedented sense of repulsion - not to the person, but to the intensity, and to, more than anything, the incomprehensible notion that you needed another person to feel whole. 

Finding romance, for you, was a pleasure, and seeking pleasure in another person was a brief, impermanent adventure, something only slightly more transient than a roller coaster. Did people always crave like this? Did your parents want and need and yearn for one another long before they had confirmation they could? Was it not existentially exhausting to want and pine and wish, almost as compulsively as breathing, for the arms of another?

Would you, had you met Chanyeol on the street and not entwined or laced between your music, have felt such pining and longing for his hands, his voice, his breath as you do now? Would you, had you seen him at the shop, buying records and buying albums, unknowingly sharing his music taste with your cash register, have listened to all the same things, hoping to share a part of him as you do now?

In the end, it does not matter. 

These questions do not matter because the cosmos has built itself around you and around him, twining your hearts together until the days have started to blur into one half formed and hardly tangible rise and set of the sun. In your efforts of hearing him once more, the play count and hours logged on your last.fm have reached new highs, an almost constant list of songs based on genres, artists, and decades you imagine he would like growing and growing until, for several hours, it stopped counting altogether, seemingly overwhelmed. Where before you listened to only one album, playing through enough Neil Diamond to feel as though his lyrics are the lexicon of your speech, now you have knowledge of a science and a pattern, but no element of control to manage your testing.

All you know is that you will meet him when you play the same song, and you have, and will and are, pushed yourself into obsession in the effort of meeting him again.

And so it is not that you do not want to go to the show any longer. 

On the contrary, you find, as you tie the laces of your combat boots and check - twice before you leave and once after the tube carriage doors close - for your tickets, you are craving the thunder and violence of live music. Lately, you have needed to be rattled - shaken down to your core by something familiar, not something cosmic. Live music builds the person you are back up from nothing, the person you have lost after days and weeks and months of work, and family, and responsibility structured through a sound wave. 

In losing yourself completely, surrendering to the passion and the energy and the noise until your mind is full of nothing else, do you find your true soul, remember who you are and what you are, someone who survives on the edge of existence and with a smile wide enough to hurt.

And so, it is not that you don't want to go to the show. You are adamant about this, reminding yourself that you need the emotional rest and that you crave this as you stand on the tube platform. An approaching train puts a warm breeze through your hair, the unprecedented loudness drowning out all other sounds and leaving you, momentarily, in a dull roar of silence. Grimacing, you step on the train, frustrated with the noise of the tube and the sense that you lose time every time you take a journey.

Time you could have spent finding Chanyeol.

Annoyed with yourself, you release a chastising laugh. It is not that you don’t want to go to the show, it is simply the hours with live music are hours without him, without an opportunity to find him, have him, hold him - three minutes amongst hours that slip through your fingers. Pressing your back against rough cushion of the tube seat, you raise the volume of the music in your headphones, hoping the sound of Etta James can slow your rapid thoughts into silence, a pout pushing at your lips in disdain.

You only ever have three minutes with Chanyeol, three minutes which seem to pass in seconds, time slipping through and around you as though you are both simultaneously part of the natural order of the earth and separate from it altogether. His voice alone renders time meaningless, a concept the air in his lungs blows to dust, lips kissing at words that become stars in your eyes and held together by the fabric of your ardor. Three minutes and endless seconds, hours missed and hours lost, and it is all completely unequivocally unfair. 

Tonight, the tube carriage is full of people and strangers, some bonded, some free; some headed to the same show as you, evidenced by their band tee shirts and their jittery, shaking legs, and all, most likely, will get to experience the slow descent into love at a pace they have chosen to set. Chewing at the inside of your cheek, you bite back a frustrated sigh, willing your mouth to suck the bitterness from your tongue. The envy of their supposed simplicity sends your heart sinking, resentful and aware that you deserve nothing less than what you have been given.

Gifted to you, somewhat cruelly, is a love that appears only when you least expect it and always when you imagine it has departed from you entirely, a fluke or trick of the imagination brought forward by the human instinct to want a partner. Once more, you are reminded of Kate's words, her small laugh and the acknowledgement that this sort of connection is so like you, your inherent distrust of love resulting in a connection that feels incredible but seems to distrust if you were worthy of it. 

But still, your hand grips your phone tightly, hoping that maybe Chanyeol is listening to Etta James too and that, even if you do not meet in these songs, he wants you, through and beyond time, and down to his very core.

Kate is waiting for you at the front entry of the Eventim Apollo, a delicate flush painted on her cheeks from the uncharacteristically cool night and a bounce in her knees, unable to keep still. A smile is tucked into the corner of her lips as she speaks on the phone, a secret affection given away by the glimmer of joy in her eyes. The surrounding city lights are eaten by the matte fabric of her burgundy coat, as though she absorbs the world and glows on her own. Hurrying through her conversation as you approach, she laughs, the sound adopting a musical cadence she only ever exudes when she is blissfully happy.

'Yes, I'll text when it's over and we're leaving,' she says, rushing through the words as she waves you over. 'Do you want me to call if they play Jesus of the Moon? Okay, love you too. Bye.'

Coming to stand at her side, you dig through your bag, smiling to yourself. 'Baekhyun couldn't make it?'

She slips her phone into her pocket, taking the ticket you hand her with a small pout. 'No, he couldn't find any tickets on StubHub or the forums. The prices were astronomical.'

Nodding, you walk with her to the queue, which has already begun to shrink. Doors opened twenty minutes ago, and while you both have standing stall tickets, neither of you had the energy to queue. It will be just as magical, you know, standing towards the back and letting the light in.

'I can't imagine the fans would be selling,' you muse, opening your bag for checking and offering a polite smile to the security guard who nods mutely in gratitude. 'I'm disappointed, though. I was looking forward to meeting him.'

'You'll meet him soon enough,’ she replies offhandedly, muttering a gentle thank you as security waves her forward. 'I'm impressed by you, though.'

Walking through the entry, you hand your ticket for scanning and cock a quizzical brow in her direction. 'How do you mean?'

Ticket scanned, she pushes it into her bag before gesturing her hands over her ears, giving the impression of ear muffs. 'You brought the small earbuds and not your big clunkers.'

Rolling your eyes, you purse your lips. 'I hate that you call them that.’ 

The slight irritation in your voice is undercut by the hum of people within the venue, some at the bar and others heading towards coat check. Glancing in Kate's direction, you find her eyes remain locked on the entryway to the stage floor, expression unfazed and unmarred by your displeasure. It does not matter if she heard you or not, she's had this conversation enough to know your opinion.

 'They're studio headphones,’ you finish, unbothered by the petulant tone you’ve adopted.

She laughs, nodding at your clarification while she trains a focused stare on the sound booth and the surrounding barrier. 

'There good?' she asks, pointing to the section just in front of the sound desk - a place for you to stand and lean if you grow tired. At your hum of approval, she beelines with you in tow, and continues where your conversation left off. 

'Precisely zero people walk around the tube with those,’ she says, pride overtaking an edge to her voice, pleased by her success of finding a good spot.

'Fuck off,' you murmur, leaning back against the barrier and assessing your view of the stage. 'I just didn't want to bring a big bag. And,' you emphasize, turning to finally look at her once more, 'I'll have you know those headphones have incredible audio quality.'

'For music?' Kate's lip curls in a mischievous smirk, and your mouth runs dry in anticipation. 'Or for a certain someone?'

A small hiss of air escapes your teeth, bemused but unsurprised. For a moment, you let your eyes wander around the room, battling with yourself as you decide just how much you want to give away.

'And if I said both?' you counter eventually, voice bold and unflinchingly honest as you watch her expression immediately softens. 

'Any luck the last few days, then?'

You shake your head, spine straightening as you roll your shoulders back, determined to appear decidedly okay. 'No.'

‘Are you certain he’s your soulmate?’

It is neither an insult nor an accusation, but still the air escapes your lungs, chest winded and pained by the unintended cruelty of her question. But then, you quickly realize the last she's heard is that you were uncertain - that you had no idea about him at all, meeting with her at the pub only to disappear for weeks, responding here and there through text. To her, your relationship with Chanyeol is as good as a science experiment. While you know for a fact you had lied, unwilling to admit, then, that you knew from the moment his first breath reached your ears he was yours, now she simply questions your diligence in an act of concern for her closest friend.

And so you smile, aware that the expression looks sad, unmoved in your effort to make someone else feel comfortable when discussing this topic.

‘I’m confident it’s him.’ 

The firmness in your tone as you say the words does not make up for the pain your muscles had taken on after you lied, but at least, in this moment, the weightlessness of such a melancholy statement gives your heart the sensation of floating beneath your sternum.

It feels good to say it, to admit it. It feels good to be claimed by him.

Warmth floods her irises, one of her hands coming to hold your arm in gentle reassurance. Empathy mixes with sympathy, shades of the Kate you remember pre-Baekhyun glossing over her current visage in a sort of time slip. It hits you, then, that she had felt this way, once. While she had a clear marker for her connection, a clock beneath her skin stopping the moment she came into contact with her soulmate, the confidence that she would ever be released from her own prison had never once been something she believed she could touch. 

All at once, you are reminded of the months she said she wanted to bond even if she didn’t like it, just so that it could be over.

'You'll figure it out soon,' she affirms, the softness in her voice mixing with her stubborn determination. 'On the bright side, this is a vast improvement from believing you don't have anyone at all.'

'Is it though?' You don't mean for it to sound pleading, but the ferocity of your affection has taken hold of pieces within your soul you did not know existed. And, while you are confident you don’t wish to be freed from this new, uncharted intensity, you simply wish there was a logic to make the pain a little more bearable. 'Or am I simply driving myself mad, thinking and overthinking?'

'You do that anyway,' she counters, playfully, 'so I'm not sure the bond is to blame.'

Laughing, you nudge your shoulder into hers and release a groan of agreement, jostled by her honesty. Regardless if you had bonded with Chanyeol or not, your mind would have raced towards an infinite number of conclusions, exhausting your heart into a state of paralysis. Bond or no bond, your mind was never one to allow itself a moment of reprieve.

'Look,' she continues, cocking her head towards the stage in encouragement. 'Just forget about it for tonight. You need a break. No bonds. Just us and our first boyfriend.'

Kate’s advice is sound, and it works for a while. For a time, you are tethered to the moment by the strength in the hold of her hand, the way she holds you to her side and shares, with all of herself, the light and the sound and the feeling. But soon, her grasp on your hand turns your thoughts inward, in that purgatory of time between the opener and the main act, when there is little to do apart from buy another pint of cider, feeling the thrum of excitement down into your bones.

While she checks her phone for texts from Baekhyun, you wonder if Chanyeol is here, sharing this moment with you the same way you have been sharing songs. It would not be preposterous to assume he would be, the majority of London’s rock scene gathered to get high and get wrecked by a sonic release that will likely feel akin to something biblical. Craning your neck, you glance around the venue, hoping to be struck by him as if by lightning. 

For weeks, you’ve wondered if you’ve passed him, shared a tube with him - if he’s even in London at all. Being separated by miles and seas from your soulmate is not uncommon; you would not be the first instance of such a curse, but still those couples found one another, and so you have not given up the waxy sensation of hope as it glides over your fingers. 

But still, you may be the first instance of couple sharing song and sharing sound, only having minutes - perhaps less - to glean as much information from one another as you can. Those who hear one another’s thoughts coordinate meeting places, already knowing what and who they should be looking for; those with sensory loss and clocks have concise ways of knowing when and how to find their person, the earthquake of first contact partnered with a monumental change. Yet, there is no guarantee you would find Chanyeol even if he were here, no promise that you would feel him even if he were rows behind or in front of you. 

And so you cling, in the end, to the prayer that tonight, even if he is not here, he finds his way to any of the twenty-six songs on the setlist. 

The lights dim at nine on the dot, carrying with it the familiar sensation of floating, the yells from the crowd swiftly wiping any further thought from your mind. You smile -  you feel yourself smiling, and you are unsure when your cheeks had pulled back to reveal your teeth, but you do not mind. At once, the hairs on your arms stand on end, brought to life by the strength of adrenaline alone, the gooseflesh along your skin and sending a shiver down your spine. Kate’s hand squeezes yours, a touch and a hold that feels to you like a liveware, and you lift yourself taller, back straightening as though boosted by the roar of the speaker feedback. 

The first notes hit you in the center of your chest, the kind of eruption that could leave a person winded, and the force of it does not seem to stop throughout the night. Eyes closed, mouth screaming the words, the only tether you have to the earth is Kate’s hand, rooting you to gravity. Tension leaves your jaw, the stress of existence seeping from your bones and leaving you weightless, skin tingling from the sudden relaxation. Throughout the night, Kate’s hand in yours becomes a comfort, a familiar sensation you do not need to focus on but recognize just the same, feeling safe simply because her own fingers press into your knuckles in delight. 

And it is then, in the middle of From Her To Eternity, when you realize touch and contact carries with it its own set of rules, a logic and an understanding that goes far beyond conscious conception; a logic that need not be experienced in order to be conceived - you can feel the texture of silk just by thinking of the word; you can feel, rather easily, the cool clasp of a leather jacket, just by picturing the silver.

And it is then, in the middle of From Her To Eternity, that you think on Chanyeol, on the way he pulls at you and your soul, and suddenly, all at once, as if he had never been departed from you at all, feel him over and inside of you.

From out of the black, his hands tug at your waist, aching to press you flush against his body - seemingly disdainful of any separation. During the guitar riff before the chorus, you can almost hear him, cheering and singing along to the notes with an ecstatic sort of howl - one hand fisting in your shirt in an effort to make sure you experience him at the same time. Heart racing and blood rushing beneath your skin, you lean back into where you imagine his chest would be, careful not to fall or pull Kate with you. You take luxury in the peculiarity of this sensation, at a body without a body being at once behind and a part of yours. Almost instantly, you open for and open to him, begging him to stay, to never leave, to make a home of you, and you spread your legs a little wider hoping to feel his leg press against your thighs, encouraging him to bind his bones with yours.

A shiver walks along your nerves as his other hand glides up your extended arm, carding your fingers together as he sings - rich, and full voiced, and transcendent - all the lyrics you echo back to him, to Nick, to the atmosphere. The warmth of his aura floods your muscles, a small moan escaping your lips in the middle your favourite lyric, words garbled by the sudden overwhelm of heat. As badly as you want Chanyeol, so too does he want your skin, wants the prints of your fingertips smeared all over him, bodies thrumming from passion, adrenaline, and delirium.

The fabric of your clothes becomes tight, the denim of your black jeans feeling thin and damp around the curve of your ass; your shirt, wrapped in his grip and rubbing against your waist, is moist at the base of your spine, the heat from the crowd and the heat from Chanyeol pulling the wetness from your pores. His long fingers extend upward against your stomach, grazing the soft fabric of your bra with his nails - a sensation that tickles you, barely there and barely tangible, but felt all the same.

Looking up at your hand, vision blurred and lips pulled into a messy, lopsided smile, you suddenly feel dizzy.

This hand is empty. You know and can see that it is empty. Part of you does not question this because if he were here, if he were truly with you, the roughness of his skin would ignite the chemistry of your molecules, transforming you into something Other and something Unknown. You know your hand is empty, but still the haze of fingers and knuckles and the pink redness of blood at the fingertips takes shape. The blurred edges of this image make you feel motion sick, bewildered by the sudden trick of the light and the trick of your heart, blinking once and twice before it is gone altogether.

There is no hand holding yours, no fingers pressing hungrily at your breast, but you feel them - you still feel him, as though the seismic weight of your wishing has brought him forth, brought the memory of every other contact you’ve felt into the nerves of your palm and married it, desperately, with the malformed shadow of Chanyeol. 

It’s difficult, you find, building a person around a voice or building a heart around sound, but then - isn’t that what a heartbeat is? A constant rhythm keeping space and keeping time, pulling you close and close and close, able to be recognized regardless of the cartilage that separates you from it.

Chanyeol holds you close, curled into you from fear that you will leave him, rocking into your back and pressing a smile into the skin of your neck as he sings and sings and sings. You’re vibrating, holding onto nothing at the same time as you hold onto Kate, feeling wetness pool between your thighs from the sheer magnitude of wanting without having, knowing how it feels to be pressed close to a body, the hardness of a person grazing your back and ass, and allow your mind to fill the missing pieces in on your behalf. The sound of his voice travels through your ears, your mind, and into your open mouth, tongue going dry from the sheer force of him.

Like always, he is a flood, a force of nature you absolutely cannot resist, soul surrendering, almost immediately, to the magic of his existence.

It could be the cider, you think, that elevates your heart rate and puts a rush of blood into your lips that makes them feel swollen, and full, begging to be kissed or bitten. It could be the crowd and their energy making you wish and crave for someone to share this intimacy with, the energy of the room pushed flush the chambers of your heart, and your brain ensuring the hazy outline of Chanyeol be there to deliver you to paradise. In the end, you decide it does not matter, the answers to these questions are not nearly as meaningful as the way he tells you this is his favourite song too, and you cling to the way he speaks and breathes; mostly, you cling to the way his lips seem to press against your ear, demanding you hear him and you do not forget.

And just as swiftly as the song started, just as quickly as the feeling came, it leaves you, the red flush on your chest lingering even after he is gone. The heat from the room sticks to your skin, much the same way Kate’s eyes burn into your profile. With vigor, she pulls her hand from yours, tugging it from your grip. In your peripheral, you watch the way she stretches out her hand and fingers, massaging the bones and regards you with wide, worried eyes that demand an explanation. Unsure what to say and unprepared to speak at all, you keep your eyes trained on the stage, watching the stage as it goes dark and waiting for the sadness of your loss to creep back in as it always does.

But this time, there is change. This time, you are left with a tangible residue to mark his presence, a sign that your overactive imagination was not alone in its efforts.

This time, instead of the loss and the torment of separation, you focus on the sensation of your wet underwear, a pulsing vibration from inside your core reminding you this was real.

This was real. 

The deep flush of your cheeks and the dry skin of your lips is grateful for the chilly night air as you exit the venue after the show. Tonight, the sky of London is clear and black, stars swallowed by the street lights with only the glow of the full moon reminding you there exists a world beyond this, beyond the world you've fallen into with Chanyeol. Breathless, you stand outside and check the time, hands shaking from both adrenaline and memory. This late at night, the tube is still running, but you crave the open expanse of the world, synapses too flooded with desire to handle the closed tunnels of the underground.

Close quarters and tight seats would only make you yearn for the press of his hands and his groin into your lap, the longing to be handled brimming over in the heat of your blood.

‘What the fuck was that?’ Kate asks, the disbelieving nature of her voice breaking your thoughts.

Tearing your eyes away from the sky, you regard her, wide eyed and breathless. Shadows have been carved into her features from the Eventim Apollo marquee sign and the silver glimmers of moonlight, a darkness under her eyes and cheekbones making her look severe and unnerved.

‘What?’ The small, thinness to your voice gives away you know precisely to what she is referring, but you need her to say it.

You need her to say it and to confirm it.

‘You nearly broke my hand during that song.’ Neither angry nor upset, she simply massages her hand in concern, easing the lingering soreness. ‘I know its your favourite, but have some consideration for my joints, yeah?’

Looking down at your feet, your mind empties, mouth giving shape to apologies before your mind can properly form them. ‘Sorry,' you mutter, 'I didn’t realize I was squeezing you so tightly.’

Kate steps closer to you, bending down to study your face with a furrowed brow. ‘You’re all flushed, too. Are you drunk?’

You laugh, but you're not sure why. The sound is a faint whisper of humour carrying with it the turmoil of confusion, sounding, altogether, like you could be drunk. You might be, you think. He makes your skin feel just as edgeless as when you are too many ciders deep and telling London it is your only true, passionate love affair. 

‘Maybe?’ you manage, the words little more than a noise of delirium.

‘You only had three ciders,’ she chuckles, yet her eyes remain guarded.

‘Well,’ you shrug, turning in the direction of the night bus. Your feet move of their own accord, not bothering to see if she follows. ‘Nick will do that to you.’

Pulling out her phone to presumably text Baekhyun, she hums in agreement, but still you feel her eyes bore into your back as you walk away, watching and watching, almost certain you might disappear.

You realize you never said goodbye.

The night bus home is difficult. 

Normally, you relish this journey, take your time savoring the top level of the bus which somehow always feels reserved for concert goers. This late at night, their voices carry, domed around you as they discuss the show, the highlights, or, conversely, simply not talking at all, choosing instead to relive the show through their headphones. Tonight you join them, settling in an open row of seats next to the window and resting your head against the glass, seeking the refreshing texture in the hopes that it will cool your skin. 

Tonight should be no different from all your other post-gig journeys home, excitement palpable in the almost thick heat of the bus and the way there’s a rush of emotion as the bus pulls away from the stop. This is when you’d smile, take your headphones out and play your way through the setlist; other times, you’d eavesdrop on the other conversations, smiling at their reactions and responses, turning inward and tuning out only after you cross the bridge over the Thames and the conversation turns a bit quiet, and a bit personal.

But tonight, the difference is in you - in the way you still cannot shake the feeling of Chanyeol’s strong hands and the thick cream of his voice, the memory of him seeming to overtake the memory of the show altogether. 

Headphones wound in your lap, you regard them with a small pout. The ringing in your ears will do you no favors should you listen to any music, but your hesitation to touch and to use them runs deeper than the usual post-gig tinnitus. Even now, you can still feel him, the paradoxically smooth roughness of his palms as they moved over your skin, and the way his voice made you vibrate, trembling into nothingness in the effort of seeking more. Now, the white wires of your headphones pose an element of distrust and betrayal, the ground rules of your connection seeming to change just as soon as you understand them, and you wonder if you’re ready to feel him again, if you could, or if you’ve even stopped.

Turning to glance out the window, London seems to pass in a crystal haze, the lights from the city dotting the river like miniature spotlights, the city still alive and glittering. The vibrancy of London puts a smile on your face, the memory of the last time you rode a bus mixing with the memories of all the times before you’ve looked out at the skyline and wondered who was living, who was dying, and how many stories could be contained beneath just one streetlight. These idle thoughts always compelled you, your love for London and for the heartbeat of the city always overtaking your thoughts once the bus grew quiet.

Now, your imagination has become consumed with a man and the frequency of a voice that haunts you. Staring down at your hands, you study the lines in your skin and wonder what you felt - if you truly were feeling. Already a naturally warm person, the tender hold of his hand in yours put a rush of blood in your fingers, making them appear swollen and pink. And while you could see through and beyond him, as though he were an ephemeral mirage comprised of a longing that reached down into the chasm of your essence, for one moment you swore you could see the pink of his knuckles as he held you, clutching at your bones in an effort to stitch your bodies together.

Tonight, too, the steps up to your door feel endless, walls of the stairway closing in and becoming tight, compressed. Laughter echoes around you, strange for this hour of the night when your neighbors are usually asleep or out even later than you. It doesn’t sound familiar but it doesn’t sound foreign, the richness of the tone giving way to a younger Mr. Kim and a female voice you place as his wife, Aki. How many times had they walked these stairs, holding hands and kissing wrists, laughing and laughing until they silenced one another with kisses that seared against their smiles? How many times had they pressed one another against these walls, pressing fingers to lips to keep quiet only to fall into one another instead? 

Were they soulmates, too, long before the world allowed for such a love?

The nostalgia of these unlived experiences burns against your throat, a lump forming that seems out of place and altogether irrational. A missing has taken root within you, deep down and all over again, though this time it is not for Chanyeol but for a future and a past running in beside one another in tandem. Do you miss the idea of youth, spending too much time with Mr. Kim and watching the way time eats at a heart and at a person? Do you miss the connection that comes from bodies? Your last boyfriend was years ago, just before the solar flare, and even then you had stopped connecting long before you called the relationship off. Even when you were together, pressed against one another in bed and sharing breaths, you weren’t really there, heart and mind going elsewhere to find pleasure.

Perhaps, in the end, you simply miss the happiness of coming home to someone, coming home to Chanyeol, or, most likely, coming home at all. Pushing through your door, the silence seems to swallow you, the quietness of your flat unfit for the energy pooling at your fingertips. Home hasn't felt like home for months, not since you first played Neil Diamond on repeat for days. Something about your flat has felt off, right in the ways that are familiar and wrong as thought something terribly important had been lost, or never found at all. Tonight, the quiet of it all eats at you, skin still stinging with the strength of Chanyeol's touch, and you find you need sound to drown out this loneliness.

Stripping off your clothes, the freedom of your removed bra makes you smile, suddenly hyper aware of the curves of your body. Embodied as you are, you find you need music to hold you together, to press against you the way hands should be - the way Chanyeol's hands would.

Solomon Burke's record is torn at the sides, the edges fraying and taped too many times for you to count. It should never have been left in a charity shop, but then, if it hadn't you never would have come to own it. Faded and worn as its sleeve may be, the record still rings clean and true, the pressed black vinyl glossy and glimmering in the low light of your flat. Uncorking a bottle of wine, your lips go numb as your heart begins to race, head tilting to the side in the expectation of a mouth gliding along your neck. The hair on your arms stands on end, the atmosphere suddenly full of static, electric as it kisses against your skin.

The world fades, the familiarity of this comforting and so unlike the illusion of his touch at the concert. In this, you ground, the world around you silenced except for the music and for him.

‘God, I’ve missed you,' you mumble, knowing he can hear you just fine.

Redness spreads across your chest, a flush of embarrassment at your admission painting you pink and pink. Silly, you think, for there was nothing to miss. You're certain he had never left you.

Chanyeol's laugh is low, a thunder roll easily missed if one is not hanging on every sound he makes. ‘I can still feel you,' he says, though the words come together behind a soft, impatient whine. ‘You’re driving me wild.’

‘Speak for yourself,' you snort, watching the wine as you pour it through half lidded eyes. ‘You’re the one that found me, and now I’m wearing you. I didn’t think we’d be able to...do that.’

He hums in agreement, pride evident in the smile you can almost hear him wear. ‘This, too.’

You knit your brows together, corking the bottle as you glance around your flat, confused. ‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s the first time I’m hearing you without headphones.'

Eyes widening, your gaze lands on the record as it turns and turns, the glimmers of light swirling over the record as it plays. Your headphones, earbuds and studio over-ear alike, are in your bedroom, packed away for their use tomorrow when you'll need them for your commute. Out of habit and the inherent human need for rationality, you look around your flat, feeling him close and hearing his breath as falls in a rushed, excited rhythm. Outside your window, the streetlights take on an otherworldly glow, the fabric of your couches, chairs, and curtains suddenly richer, deeper, your world coloured entirely by his presence.

Overwhelmed, you find all you can manage is the painfully simple, whispered exclamation, 'Oh, my god.'

He moves, that much is evident by the sound of his rustling clothes, and you turn around, looking for his shadow.

‘It’s the clearest you’ve ever been,' he says, sounding pleased. The joy of it, the joy and the shock and the clarity of him is heady, and you reach a hand out, gripping your counter. 'You’re surrounding me.’

Once again, he is not wrong, the sound of his voice seeming to fill the empty corners of your house and mind. Your grip on the counter tightens, joints aching from the effort of keeping still. If he were here, you'd reach for him, pull him to you and kiss him until your lungs hurt from lack of breath. If he were just as needy, maybe he'd place you on the counter top, spilling your wine as his hands massaged bruises into your thighs, leaving marks on your neck for the world to see.

It's shocking, you realize, what the sound of his voice can do. Just one laugh and already he stains the walls.

Swallowing thickly, you take in a long inhale, hoping to clear your mind and focus. ‘So you were at the show.’

It is not a question, just a statement of fact.

Chanyeol's laugh is one of disbelief and one of comfort, an odd mix of emotions you read so easily and find yourself getting drunk on just the same. Glancing down, you see the wine, untouched. ‘It’s so bizarre you just know it,' he says, breathless in his delight. ‘It’s like continuing a conversation we never started.’

‘So you were there tonight?’ you repeat, needing to hear his confirmation and refusing to let yourself run wild with the sheer magnitude of him.

‘Yeah, I was,' he admits. ‘I started feeling like you were there and...I don’t know.’ Chanyeol falls silent, but just as clearly as you can hear him, so too does your mind see him. He blushes, looking down at his hands and standing in the same place as you, sleeveless grey shirt revealing the muscles in his arms as he holds onto the counter. ‘I couldn’t help myself.’

The sound of your heartbeat fills your ears, and while you want to rush forward and talk and talk, for a moment you are speechless.

Chanyeol is in London.

There are no seas separating you.

Tonight, he was at the concert and just as easily as sharing a song, so too can you share the city. This kind of confirmation is worthy of a celebration, a late night phone call or text message to give an address, a number, a cab ride to a doorstep so hands and mouths can finally meet. But you don't mention it or expand on it, biting the side of your tongue in hesitation instead. Blood rushing in your ears interrupts all your fantasies, mouth unsure you're ready for your own admission to make it real.

When it's real, it breaks, and you're still unsure you're ready to be moved beyond the confines of the earth.

Blinking slowly, you ground yourself back in the deep breaths he takes to keep himself calm, and smile. 'I'm glad you didn't.' Once more, your eyes find your wine glass, hand reaching for the stem to swirl it around and around. 'It's been a long time since I've felt someone hold me so close at a concert. You were keeping me warm.'

Almost immediately, he replies. ‘Don’t talk about someone else's hands on you.' It is neither a demand not a command, but a plea. ‘I don’t like picturing it.’

Smirking, you cock your head to the side, the honey sweet drip of arousal running down your spine. ‘Possessive already?’

‘Yes,' comes his quick, unashamed reply. ‘Everyone before doesn’t matter,' he clarifies, eyes falling closed to keep himself calm, 'but I still can’t help it. My hands have been aching all night. I'll never have my fill of you.'

Uncertain how to reply, you simply smile. You smile straight ahead and at nothing at all, knowing that he can feel it. Nothing matters anymore, so long as he can feel it.

‘I wouldn’t have expected you to be there,' he says, words falling quickly in an effort of making the most of your time together. 'There weren’t many women, especially towards the front.’

Rolling your eyes, you sigh, tired of these types of gendered comments men so easily make when it comes to rock music. ‘Then you weren’t looking hard enough.’

Chanyeol, however, acquiesces easily. ‘True,' he affirms. ‘Though, to be fair, I was really only looking for you.’ You both fall into the memory, of the way you found one another in the breadth of a moment, in a setlist, and in the all encompassing ecstasy that comes from live music. ‘That’s my favourite song of his,' Chanyeol shares, sounding almost shy. 'From Her To Eternity is so powerful.'

Something about this makes you feel young, impossibly young and carefree, like your longtime crush has just admitted he likes the same things as you, and therefore it must be destiny. You laugh, feeling yourself go light headed from the force of it, and remind yourself that it is. It is actually destiny. 

‘Mine too,' you agree, giggling. ‘It’s funny, people don’t mention that deep cut.’

‘Deep cut?’ he questions, and you have to stop yourself from sighing in deep affection at the image of his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. ‘Do you know something I don’t?’

‘No...just…’ Your words die, backtracking from your blanket statement. ‘It doesn’t get chosen very often as a favourite, is all.’

Seeming to realize that your time together is coming short, the end of side A looming closer, Chanyeol changes the subject. ‘I didn’t think I’d find you in this record.’

Humming, you look back at the record, and the torn somewhat bent edges of the sleeve. 'That's true,' you nod at no one in particular. 'It's a hard record to find, which is a shame because Cry To Me is the best part of Dirty Dancing.’

A small noise of uncertainty blooms from Chanyeol's chest, curiosity and interest blending together in one small, magical sound. ‘I don’t know what that is.'

Baffled and overtaken by skepticism, you laugh. Normally, such statements make you roll your eyes in disgust but there is something so wonderfully endearing about his joke you cannot help but smile. ‘That’s literally impossible. You’re such a guy.’

A low, slow rumble quakes in his chest, your eyes falling shut in preparation of the thickness of pleasure you know he is about to adopt. ‘If dirty dancing is what you want…’

‘Don’t start,' you whisper, mind replaying the sound over and over, addicted. ‘You’ve got me drunk on you.’

‘Speak for yourself,' he teases, mirroring your earlier statement.

For a brief moment, you can almost see him. Bottom lip caught between his teeth, his wide eyes look longing through you, hoping to find and touch and hold whatever part of you he can access. Like this, you both fall quiet, looking everywhere and nowhere for one another, and eventually, the shift of the earth on its axis makes your body sway, overcome by your unintentional stillness. Just like you could at the concert, you feel his hand reach for your waist, catching you, and it is this contact that makes you understand the difference between imagination and connection.

Where imagination is distant and feather light, a super imposition of assumption onto expectation, this is is a cosmic wave in which your drown, skin and soul and heart rattled by the impossibility and intensity of him. Neither fictional nor imagined, he is hyper-present and he is cosmic, a sunbeam trick that runs along the endings of your nerves.

‘So, do you like soul music, then?’ he asks, breaking your silence with an anxious tension at the back of his throat. His words are thick, heavy things that weigh against you, and you know he too is struggling to hold himself together.

A slow smile tugs at your lips, a lopsided grin of adoration. ‘I love it,’ you begin, pressing your tongue against your teeth unsure if you should continue. There’s so much on this you want to say, so much you normally give to other people with little passion returned. But he’s your soulmate, and if he’s really yours he will give back in spades. ‘Most days, I think it’s my favourite genre. It’s speaks of human connection in a way that I think other genres just can’t comprehend.’ 

‘Absolutely,’ he agrees, enthusiasm palpable in every syllable. ‘Their voices are full of the full spectrum of human emotion...it’s like they’ve felt so much more than I ever could. Every lyric is a love letter.’

Silently, you chuckle to yourself, eyes roaming up towards your ceiling in thanks to a God you never really had faith in. ‘Every time I listen to it, especially to an Otis song -’

‘God, I love Otis,’ he interrupts, over eager. ‘Sorry,’ comes his rushed apology, bemused by his excitement. ‘It’s just good to talk about it with someone.’

‘It’s okay.’ 

You want to reassure him everything he will ever say, every interruption is fine and good and gold, because you want, more than anything, to listen to him speak until the sun goes black. But Chanyeol remains quiet, impatiently waiting for you to continue, and you are so willing to give him absolutely everything he desires. 

‘It’s so hard to explain…’ Your words fade, mind struggling to form a sentence that could convey the depth of your emotion. ‘He moves me,’ you finally announce, uncertain anything further needs to be said. 

You have said this before. This thought and opinion is not unfamiliar or new. You have said as much to countless other people, people who simply laugh and tell you this thought is incomplete. Movement is born from a moment of pleasure, a spark and release of joy, and rarely is such a feeling understood outside of the moment in which it exists. To everyone else, this thought is illogical - not impossible, just unusual.

But Chanyeol sighs, a long exclamation of understanding, his heart and soul wilting directly into yours, finally witnessed. ‘Yeah?’ he swoons, urging you to continue with the force of his ardor. 

Turning, you lean back against the counter, tilting your head upwards as though anticipating a kiss. ‘He was so young,’ you continue, voice small and distant, longing tracing every word on your tongue, ;but the way he spoke and the way he sang…’ You drift, trembling at the sudden sensation of a light touch ghosting along your cheek. You think it might be his nose as he runs it along your skin, breathing you in. ‘His music always feels like he’s lived three lifetimes, and loved, intensely, his way through each of them. I think I’d like to live like that.’ 

With his hands on you, you don’t even apologize for the slight stutter to your speech, affected.

‘Intensely in love?’ he whispers, and you lean into the sound, wanting.

‘Yeah.’ 

The sensation shifts to your other cheek, and you tilt your head in the mime of granting permission. Barely there grazes move along the edge of your cheekbone, tickling a phantom of wave of affection in its wake. But he remains silent, expecting and yearning for more.

‘For a long time,’ you manage, voice strained against your tight throat, ‘it was something I thought I’d ever want or need, that feeling of being loved through your humanity and into your spirit. I never thought I’d want it, because it couldn’t exist or, if it did, it was rare enough most of humanity shouldn’t bother trying to find it.’

‘A losing game,’ he clarifies, wistful and longing in his agreement.

Briefly reminded of Amy Winehouse, the distant melody plays in your mind. You wonder if he likes her as much as you. ‘But now -’ you raise your hands, curling your fingers and almost feeling the hard muscles of his hips as you pull him into you, ‘it’s like unlocking a door, you know? Stepping through to the other side and realizing, finally, what everyone had been singing about. I want that...to be loved so intensely, so in love, that it becomes the one thing I never question.’

Drowning in one another, you let yourself be held, body warming to a temperature that makes you crave the refreshment of air conditioning. Your skin is flushed, cheeks and neck and knuckles a reddish pink from both heat and desire, the rhythm of your heart putting a sheen of sweat at your brow. You don’t know when you got so warm, when he became a fire for your hands alone, but you don’t mind. If having him means burning, you don’t ever want to be cooled.

‘I want that, too.’ His forehead rests against yours, the last force of a touch you know is about to fade. ‘I want to give that to you.’

And with that, he is gone. The record stops, apartment quiet enough to make your teeth and ears ache, Side A complete. Normally, you’d whine and let yourself grieve, screaming to yourself that you want it, god how you want that, too, but tonight, for some reason, there is no place for such woe. 

Chanyeol is in London. 

Chanyeol is in London and now you have both heard and felt and learned him.

Chanyeol is in London. 

It won’t be long now.

[jonathantaylorthomas]

18. London Boy

There are plenty of heavy moments on Lover, but "London Boy" bursts with cheeky joy, an homage to a transatlantic romance with a Idris Elba/James Corden snippet at the top and lines like “You can find me in the pub, we are watching rugby” to prove Swift’s U.K. bona fides. “London Boy” is knowingly silly, and while it never quite pulls off its premise, it’s also entertaining enough as an indulgence on the track list.

17. ME!, feat. Brendon Urie

With or without the “Spelling is fun!” line, the lead single of Lover now sounds fairly removed from the album’s general tone, especially considering how prominently Panic! at the Disco’s Brendon Urie is featured as a duet partner. Toss on “ME!” when you need a blast of kid-friendly euphoria.

16. Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince

With cheerleader chants punctuating her despair, Swift grasps at straws and a fractured U.S. reality: “American glory, faded before me, now I’m feeling hopeless, ripped up my prom dress,” she sings as the percussion lurches forward ominously. “Miss Americana” and its political subtext makes for the album’s most ambitious moment, and while the result isn’t quite pristine, it’s a fascinating pose for Swift to try and hit.

15. I Think He Knows

“I Think He Knows” finds Swift reaching into her bag of tricks and grabbing everything that will result in giddy fun, from pre-chorus rapping to sexual overtones to a falsetto-driven chorus to whiffs of funkiness. “Hand on my thigh/ We could follow the sparks, I’ll drive,” she declares with an alluring wink, pulling off the song’s primary objective.

14. I Forgot That You Existed

Feeling “in my feelings more than Drake” on the album opener, Swift spends the intro track shrugging off -- and literally giggling at -- her haters. The minimal, elastic production reinforces the playful mood and allows Swift’s personality to shine through.

13. Afterglow

“Why’d I have to break what I love so much,” Swift laments, as the drums widen and “Afterglow” barrels toward an epic chorus that echoes the most shimmering moments of 1989. Swift’s vocal take conveys an urgency that juxtaposes the sumptuous production, on a song that doesn’t bloom at first but arrests the listener after a few listens.

12. The Man

This biting look at gender dynamics within both the pop industry and celebrity-driven culture scores points for its wry humor and honest perspective; it’s also just a complete jam, with Joel Little co-writing another song with a rumbling beat and crackling synths. “The Man” will draw attention for its searing subject matter, but it’s also one of Lover’s most complete productions.

11. Paper Rings

Antonoff’s fingerprints are all over tambourine-shaker, which kicks off with the line “The moon is high, like your friends were the night that we first met” and races through a happy-go-lucky bubblegum vibe from there. With an electric guitar snaking through and a showy hook, “Paper Rings” is going to be an absolute blast on Swift’s next tour.

10. The Archer

“I’ve been the archer, I’ve been the prey,” Swift sings, referencing romantic ordeals but also nodding to the times in her public life that she’s been the target of derision, and other times where she’s had to strike back. Distant and melancholy, “The Archer” sounds even more effective in the context of the full-length.

9. Death by a Thousand Cuts

Swift sounds defeated as voices echo, bits of production whir around her and she shrugs during this aching breakup song “I get drunk, but it’s not enough.” Standard post-relationship fare for Swift, although there is a notable level of maturity -- even jadedness -- injected into lines like, “My heart, my hips, my body, my love/ Trying to find a part of me that you didn’t touch.”

8. Cornelia Street

Projecting a tiny moment of compassion onto a wide screen, Swift creates a classic story-song and allows her vulnerabilities to breathe. “Cornelia Street” peaks when the production drops out and the song morphs into a momentary piano ballad, creating one of the album’s most powerful moments.

7. You Need to Calm Down

Can we collectively admit that “You Need To Calm Down” is a knockout Taylor Swift single? Although some of the pro-LGBTQ lyrics feel like overreaching, the intent is pure and the words are meaningful; meanwhile, the hook packs a wallop, and the song title has already entered the cultural lexicon.

6. Soon You’ll Get Better, feat. Dixie Chicks

Intimate and blindingly sorrowful, “Soon You’ll Get Better” meditates on sickness by describing the shards of reality around it, from the harsh light of a doctor’s office to the feelings of selfishness that inevitably come with prolonged grief. The Dixie Chicks help with harmonies in a nifty bit of country-pop synergy, but this song is so personal it almost feels like eavesdropping to listen to it.

5. Lover

The title track is true to its name, all wide-eyed romance in a bewitching waltz buoyed by guitar strums. As a pre-release track, “Lover” is significantly different than singles like “ME!” and “You Need to Calm Down,” but its attention to detail and confidently expressed emotion recalls some of the early highlights of Swift’s career.

4. It’s Nice to Have a Friend

Distant harmonies, steel drums, vocals from the Regent Park School of Music and a story of the way simple gestures and schoolyard infatuations can morph into everlasting bonds mark one of the most original songs in Swift’s entire catalog. Short and sweet, “It’s Nice to Have a Friend” could potentially unlock new avenues for Swift as a songwriter moving forward; for now, it’s a poignant reminder of what she can accomplish as a writer.

3. False God

A Taylor Swift slow jam? Yes, please. This sultry faux-R&B track features saxophone blasts, pinpoint lyrical passages and an absolutely killer beat drop near the midway point. “False God” feels like both new territory for Swift and a major mood; keep this on repeat, because it’ll go down smooth every time.

2. Cruel Summer

With Annie Clark, better known as St. Vincent, providing a co-write and some guitar work, this standout is constructed around a massive, dreamy chorus that Swift handles expertly. “I’m drunk in the back of the car, and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar,” she declares on a provocative bridge that recalls “Out of the Woods,” another Jack Antonoff co-production.

1. Daylight

A grand finale that encapsulates much of what precedes it, “Daylight” is overpowering as a self-referential coda (“I once believed love would be burning red/ But it’s golden, like daylight,” she sings) and an exaltation to the healing power of love. Although there are strands of “Daylight” throughout Lover, this is one of the most successful instances of Swift’s maximalist pop sound to date.

[makistar2018]

Every Song Ranked on Taylor Swift's 'Lover': Critic's Picks

8/23/2019 by Jason Lipshutz

First thing’s first: Taylor Swift’s seventh studio album, Lover, is 18 tracks long, and none of the tracks are bad. It’s a testament not only to Swift’s skill as a songwriter and curator of different sonic approaches, but of the album’s ability to avoid huge missteps, or even slow stretches.

Upon its release, Swift fans have been exploring the long-awaited new full-length and deciding on which songs are their favorites. We offer our own humble opinion in this practice.

18. London Boy

There are plenty of heavy moments on Lover, but "London Boy" bursts with cheeky joy, an homage to a transatlantic romance with a Idris Elba/James Corden snippet at the top and lines like “You can find me in the pub, we are watching rugby” to prove Swift’s U.K. bona fides. “London Boy” is knowingly silly, and while it never quite pulls off its premise, it’s also entertaining enough as an indulgence on the track list.

17. ME!, feat. Brendon Urie

With or without the “Spelling is fun!” line, the lead single of Lover now sounds fairly removed from the album’s general tone, especially considering how prominently Panic! at the Disco’s Brendon Urie is featured as a duet partner. Toss on “ME!” when you need a blast of kid-friendly euphoria.

16. Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince

With cheerleader chants punctuating her despair, Swift grasps at straws and a fractured U.S. reality: “American glory, faded before me, now I’m feeling hopeless, ripped up my prom dress,” she sings as the percussion lurches forward ominously. “Miss Americana” and its political subtext makes for the album’s most ambitious moment, and while the result isn’t quite pristine, it’s a fascinating pose for Swift to try and hit.

15. I Think He Knows

“I Think He Knows” finds Swift reaching into her bag of tricks and grabbing everything that will result in giddy fun, from pre-chorus rapping to sexual overtones to a falsetto-driven chorus to whiffs of funkiness. “Hand on my thigh/ We could follow the sparks, I’ll drive,” she declares with an alluring wink, pulling off the song’s primary objective.

14. I Forgot That You Existed

Feeling “in my feelings more than Drake” on the album opener, Swift spends the intro track shrugging off -- and literally giggling at -- her haters. The minimal, elastic production reinforces the playful mood and allows Swift’s personality to shine through.

13. Afterglow

“Why’d I have to break what I love so much,” Swift laments, as the drums widen and “Afterglow” barrels toward an epic chorus that echoes the most shimmering moments of 1989. Swift’s vocal take conveys an urgency that juxtaposes the sumptuous production, on a song that doesn’t bloom at first but arrests the listener after a few listens.

12. The Man

This biting look at gender dynamics within both the pop industry and celebrity-driven culture scores points for its wry humor and honest perspective; it’s also just a complete jam, with Joel Little co-writing another song with a rumbling beat and crackling synths. “The Man” will draw attention for its searing subject matter, but it’s also one of Lover’s most complete productions.

11. Paper Rings

Antonoff’s fingerprints are all over tambourine-shaker, which kicks off with the line “The moon is high, like your friends were the night that we first met” and races through a happy-go-lucky bubblegum vibe from there. With an electric guitar snaking through and a showy hook, “Paper Rings” is going to be an absolute blast on Swift’s next tour.

10. The Archer

“I’ve been the archer, I’ve been the prey,” Swift sings, referencing romantic ordeals but also nodding to the times in her public life that she’s been the target of derision, and other times where she’s had to strike back. Distant and melancholy, “The Archer” sounds even more effective in the context of the full-length.

9. Death by a Thousand Cuts

Swift sounds defeated as voices echo, bits of production whir around her and she shrugs during this aching breakup song “I get drunk, but it’s not enough.” Standard post-relationship fare for Swift, although there is a notable level of maturity -- even jadedness -- injected into lines like, “My heart, my hips, my body, my love/ Trying to find a part of me that you didn’t touch.”

8. Cornelia Street

Projecting a tiny moment of compassion onto a wide screen, Swift creates a classic story-song and allows her vulnerabilities to breathe. “Cornelia Street” peaks when the production drops out and the song morphs into a momentary piano ballad, creating one of the album’s most powerful moments.

7. You Need to Calm Down

Can we collectively admit that “You Need To Calm Down” is a knockout Taylor Swift single? Although some of the pro-LGBTQ lyrics feel like overreaching, the intent is pure and the words are meaningful; meanwhile, the hook packs a wallop, and the song title has already entered the cultural lexicon.

6. Soon You’ll Get Better, feat. Dixie Chicks

Intimate and blindingly sorrowful, “Soon You’ll Get Better” meditates on sickness by describing the shards of reality around it, from the harsh light of a doctor’s office to the feelings of selfishness that inevitably come with prolonged grief. The Dixie Chicks help with harmonies in a nifty bit of country-pop synergy, but this song is so personal it almost feels like eavesdropping to listen to it.

5. Lover

The title track is true to its name, all wide-eyed romance in a bewitching waltz buoyed by guitar strums. As a pre-release track, “Lover” is significantly different than singles like “ME!” and “You Need to Calm Down,” but its attention to detail and confidently expressed emotion recalls some of the early highlights of Swift’s career.

4. It’s Nice to Have a Friend

Distant harmonies, steel drums, vocals from the Regent Park School of Music and a story of the way simple gestures and schoolyard infatuations can morph into everlasting bonds mark one of the most original songs in Swift’s entire catalog. Short and sweet, “It’s Nice to Have a Friend” could potentially unlock new avenues for Swift as a songwriter moving forward; for now, it’s a poignant reminder of what she can accomplish as a writer.

3. False God

A Taylor Swift slow jam? Yes, please. This sultry faux-R&B track features saxophone blasts, pinpoint lyrical passages and an absolutely killer beat drop near the midway point. “False God” feels like both new territory for Swift and a major mood; keep this on repeat, because it’ll go down smooth every time.

2. Cruel Summer

With Annie Clark, better known as St. Vincent, providing a co-write and some guitar work, this standout is constructed around a massive, dreamy chorus that Swift handles expertly. “I’m drunk in the back of the car, and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar,” she declares on a provocative bridge that recalls “Out of the Woods,” another Jack Antonoff co-production.

1. Daylight

A grand finale that encapsulates much of what precedes it, “Daylight” is overpowering as a self-referential coda (“I once believed love would be burning red/ But it’s golden, like daylight,” she sings) and an exaltation to the healing power of love. Although there are strands of “Daylight” throughout Lover, this is one of the most successful instances of Swift’s maximalist pop sound to date.

Billboard

[dccomicsnews]

[Editor’s Note: This review may contain spoilers]

Writer: Viktor Bogdanovic

Artists: Sandra Hope, Dan Abnett

  Summary

The Silencer is an assassin on the run and a single mother with a secret. None of that changes in this issue. What does change? Well, let’s start with Talia al Ghul facing the consequences of bringing Leviathan after Silencer. That means the Triple Crown Diner is under fire and now Talia and Silencer must work together to stay alive. 

Now, just what does Deathstroke want from all of this?

Keep reading. 

This is “Exit Strategy” Part 3.

  Positives

The opening scene is pure action. Bullet casings weaving a spiral pulled right from James Bond’s gun-chamber intro, glass breaking, and at the center of it all is the center of a mother’s world. Her child. In this case, her little boy. 

And just how does she keep him safe?

Hello, Zone of Silence. It’s a step up from Mother’s Little Helper — Rolling Stone’s fans might appreciate that — and a necessary item for the assassin-for-hire-single-mother who is always on the go. By placing her boy in the zone and behind a table, he is unable to hear or see anything around him. And with an action figure in his hands, what else could he care about?

  Talia and Silencer talk it out when things are tough.

The bullets are raining down and that’s the only backdrop these two need to talk it out. Talia blames Silencer for selling her out to Leviathan. To which Talia admits that she let it be known that Silencer was active again, but in her defense, she was only trying to provide healthy motivation. And Talia maintains that she is not responsible for what is happening in the diner. 

  The Silencer does not budge. She answers that the reason there is currently a power struggle in Leviathan ties back to Talia killing one of its underbosses. Talia argues back that Silencer pulled the trigger, but it is revealed that this was under Talia’s order. Whew!

Keeping up?

So, who is at fault for an assault on diners. A cutaway scene shows Deathstroke and the underboss Gunn. Gunn is bragging that the removal of Silencer and Talia will cement his standing in Leviathan and assure his ascendancy. I have to admit, for a guy who looks like a frog, Gunn has a better vocabulary than I might expect from a thug. 

Deathstroke doesn’t care about Gunn’s lexicon or his aspirations and makes it clear that he wants order restored. When Gunn offers more jobs for more money, and maybe an offer that shouldn’t be refused, Deathstroke is adamant that he wants nothing more to do with a squabble that is beneath him. Money or threats will not change his mind. 

  Talia kills a Leviathan body-mod cyborg with a spoon on Page 7 while coaxing Silencer to admit that this is the life she will never leave. Some things just have to be seen. It’s more than a distraction when unbeknownst to both women, Cradle — of the duo Cradle and Grave — has snuck into the Zone of Silence and is playing with his new friend Ben. 

[Spoiler!]

When they have killed everyone, Talia tells Silencer its time to come back and work for her. When Silencer refuses, Talia demands her return, and then says that Silencer has no other way out. Silencer disagrees, they fight, and Talia threatens to kill Ben. The Silencer grabs Talia by the hair and stabs her in the chest.

When Silencer picks up her son Ben, she hugs him to her chest and calls him Jellybean. It is a small moment of endearment, but one that highlights the sudden change that occurs when he is in her arms. 

Cradle and Grave are just creepy. The way Cradle sneaks into the Zone of Silence and plants the toy on Ben is sinister and must be a sickening concept for any parent to consider or see. It makes the moment when Ben asks his mother where the other boy is that much more frightening. 

Negatives

The Silencer leaves Ben alone to go back to gather Talia’s body. She is torn between protecting her son and making sure that Talia is dead. Of course, this a descendant of al Ghul, the body is missing and only the knife remains. I appreciate the tension that this creates for the reader who is worrying about the safety of Ben, I think many people think it is a questionable move by a mother fearing for her child’s safety or an assassin who knows her enemy. She only just got Ben away from danger, she knows that the odds of Talia’s body returning to the Lazarus Pit are higher whether she goes back to check or not. So, why does she go? Just to see if the body is there, does not feel very convincing.

  Verdict

ViKtor Bogdanovic makes part three of a storyline feel like it could be a standalone story in a longer narrative, but the allusions to the previous issues create an engagement with the reader. When he introduces backstory and necessary details, they don’t feel like information dumps. Any new readers will feel like they are in a familiar place with characters like Talia and Deathstroke to frame the DC environment where Silencer is carving a life for her and Ben. If you have been following the story from the beginning, this is another strong chapter. And a great place to climb aboard the wild ride.

  Review: The Silencer #6 Writer: Viktor Bogdanovic Artists: Sandra Hope, Dan Abnett Summary The Silencer is an assassin on the run and a single mother with a secret.

[patart-illustrations-stuff]

Man has climbed Mount Everest, gone to the bottom of the ocean. He's fired rockets at the Moon, split the atom, achieved miracles in every field of human endeavor... except crime!

Gert Fröbe as Goldfinger

art from The James Bond lexicon written by Alan J. Porter and Gillian J. Porter, cover and interior art by Pat Carbajal

[esonetwork]

The Earth Station One Podcast - No Time To Die Movie Review

New Post has been published on https://esonetwork.com/the-earth-station-one-podcast-no-time-to-die-movie-review/

The Earth Station One Podcast - No Time To Die Movie Review

The time has finally come! Mike, Mike, Ashley, Alan J. Porter, and Matthew Kresel report in full on Daniel Craig’s final mission as James Bond. Plus, some Monkee talk with Kevin Eldridge. All this, along with Angela’s A Geek Girl’s Take, Michelle’s Iconic Rock Moment, Creative Outlet with Jaime Ramos, and Shout Outs!

We want to hear from you! Feedback is always welcome. Please write to us at feedback@earthstationone.com and subscribe and rate the show on Apple Podcast, Stitcher Radio, Google Play, Spotify, Pandora, Amazon Music, or wherever fine podcasts are found.

Table of Contents 0:00:00 Show Open / Review of The Monkees Final Tour 0:27:22 Michelle’s Iconic Rock Moment 0:30:31 No Time To Die Movie Review 1:58:13 A Geek Girl’s Take 2:00:37 Creative Outlet w/ Jaime Ramos 2:07:17 Show Close

Links Earth Station One on Apple Podcasts Earth Station One on Stitcher Radio Earth Station One on Spotify Past Episodes of The Earth Station One Podcast The ESO Network Patreon The New ESO Network TekePublic Store ESO Network Patreon Angela’s A Geek Girl’s Take Ashley’s Box Office Buzz Michelle’s Iconic Rock Talk Show The Earth Station One Website NSC Live TV Tifosi Optical Flopcast James Bond Lexicon On Her Majesty’s Secret Podcast Warped Factor Review by Matthew Kresal Our Man on the Hill by Matthew Kresal Ashley’s Review of No Time to Die Spy Con 2

Promos Tifosi Optics The Flop Cast NSC Live TV The ESO Network Patreon

If you would like to leave feedback or a comment on the show please feel free to email us at feedback@earthstationone.com

[sportsbypc]

THIS BEST STUFF I SAW THIS WEEK: Story behind 'GoldenEye 007' is one to read

Oral histories have become a fixture online and, I must admit, they are among my favorite pieces to read for all the behind-the-scenes insight they offer up on a particular subject.

This week, we got another good one: an oral history of the video game that changed everything, “GoldenEye 007.”

An outlet I admittedly had not heard of until this week, Mel Magazine, which is apparently a property of – wait for it – yes, Dollar Shave Club, compiled a must-read oral history of the classic Nintendo 64 game created by Rare in celebration of the 21st anniversary of its release.

The first-person shooter game that ushered the term “multi-player” into the lexicon was first envisioned as a 2-D vehicle similar to another Rare classic “Donkey Kong Country” before the creative teams pushed the boundaries of ingenuity and technology of the era to develop “GoldenEye 007.”

Upon its release, it became the must-have game on the platform and for middle schoolers all over the country like my friends and I who spent countless hours trying to best one another and be “Most Deadly.” I can still tell you the best way to navigate “The Facility,” where to grab body armor before your friends snag it and where to hide so you can pick up the most kills.

The game was also laced with “cheats” where you could unlock special characters, weapons, boards and much more.

In turn, the video game also made a relatively run-of-the-mill James Bond film, 1995's “GoldenEye” starring then-Bond Pierce Brosnan, into a cult classic and created a new generation of Bond movie enthusiasts that more than likely paved the way for the much-needed reboot of the franchise with the Daniel Craig instalments.

The oral history of “GoldenEye 007” reads like a cross between similar narratives like the Steve Jobs or Facebook histories that pushed the limits of technology to create something beautiful.

Oral histories aren't quite as innovative as what “GoldenEye 007” was in 1997 when it hit video game aisles, but, again, I love to read them for the insight into people's minds and to get a feel for both what people were dealing with through a particular ordeal and how they remember it now that time has passed.

Among my favorites in the oral history sector for reasons you can likely figure out on your own is a long but outstanding read in the 2011 book “Those Guys Have All the Fun: Inside the World of ESPN” compiled by James Andrew Miller and Tom Shales. The duo spoke in-depth with a plethora of personalities who were insturmental in ESPN's founding and rise and those on and off the screen who made sports on TV cable's most profitable business.

A film based on “Those Guys ...” has been in talks for years. According to Variety, there's currently a script being rewritten by “Halt and Catch Fire” co-creator Christopher C. Rogers with James Franco in negotiations to direct. We shall see what becomes of it this time around.

While we're on the subject, here are some more of my favorite oral histories from recent years floating around the internet:

Altered State Police: An Oral History of ‘Super Troopers’

The Amazing Oral History Of ‘Yo! MTV Raps’

‘Dream, Try, Do Good’: The Oral History Of ‘Boy Meets World’

Hard to Kill (Oral history of how Gucci Mane became Gucci Mane

How the Web Was Won: An Oral History of the Internet

An Oral History of 'Jackass: The Movie'

An oral history of 'The League'

Oral History: From Green Day to Operation Ivy, a Look Back at Lookout Records

So Money: An oral history of Swingers

‘You Try Driving In Platforms’: How ‘Clueless’ Created The Style That Made It A Pop Culture Icon

We’re In This Together: An Oral History of Nine Inch Nails

For many more, check out this link at Thrillist.

MORE SPORTS

Chris Myers shares take on sports media

It's quietly been 20 years since Chris Myers left ESPN for Fox Sports.

John Ourand of Sports Business Daily chats with Myers about ratings, social media and what to do if just starting out in the business.

READ MORE

Steady? Boring? Kirk Ferentz does it his way

Iowa football coach Kirk Ferentz, who over the years has turned the Hawkeyes into one of the nation's most consistent and underrated programs while staving off numerous job opportunities elsewhere, talks about the coach he started out as and the coach he's become.

READ MORE

Rays holding their own with creative pitching approach

The Tampa Bay Rays have taken an innovative approach to how and in what inning they are using pitchers.

It's put the team in the playoff conversation and, more importantly, in the conversation of if pitching as we currently know it is the most effective way to win in Major League Baseball.

READ MORE

[jamesbondlexicon]

Could you please tell me when will the James Bond Lexicon be published and will it be in ebook format?

The James Bond lexicon is currently scheduled for publication in 2019. Details on formats etc. are still being discussed. Will post more news as things firm up.

[rethinkingthefaith]

The Second Coming: an Event in Ancient History

Multitudes were bracing for the end as the clock ticked toward 2000. In the forecast were computer crashes threatening to send the planet back to the law of the jungle.

The Middle East was continuing its instability, amplifying the drumming hoof-beats of the Four Horsemen. Biblical chronologists, accordingly, set to work "proving" the imminent coming of Jesus Christ in the clouds. The gleams of his return were on the horizon, ready to break into the full light of day once we left the 20th century.

The same thing happened 1000 years ago. As the calendar was getting set to shift into quadruple digits, people’s lives went into upheaval. For many, the impending millennium brought about opposite extremes. Some became devout, preparing for what they believed was the Second Coming. Others turned to last-ditch debauchery, fearing the world would end before they had their full measure of fun.

But the world passed the year 1000 and sped into the 1300s, when end-of-the-age fervor seized people afresh. The black death swept through Europe, wiping out a third of the population. War raged, including the demoralizing Hundred Years’ War. Christians were bewildered as three men rose up, all claiming to be the pope. The end appeared to be at hand for sure this time.

Since then, the end has been predicted again and again. Most notably, the Millerite movement drew people to sell their goods and ascend a mountaintop, waiting for Jesus to return in 1844. The event became known as the Great Disappointment. The Watchtower organization has set dates with embarrassing regularity. In 1988, a Texas author wrote a book listing "88 Reasons Jesus Will Come in 1988." Bible teacher Jack Van Impe also got involved in date-setting. The date, of course, passed without the Parousia.

Initial Considerations

Likewise, the year 2000 came and went uneventfully. This should surprise no one, because there was nothing special about the year 2000. For all practical purposes, the new millennium commenced in the mid-1990s. If Jesus was born around 4 or 6 B.C., as scholars believe, we passed into the new millennium during the 1990s. It is purely arbitrary, an invention of our own calendar system.

The numbers we attach to our years are relatively meaningless, especially from the standpoint of the ancient Scriptures. But Bible students still unearth the "clear evidence"— cross-referencing this, that, and the other Bible verses. The same kind of digging gave us dates of 1844, 1979 and 1988 — each of which was most certainly the right one.

Another thing we should consider when approaching this topic is that the term "end of the world" is not really a biblical statement. A lexicon or concordance will reveal that the Greek word "aeon" is better translated "age." References in the King James Bible to the "end of the world" convey a false impression.

Unfortunately, the Bible reader cannot help but see the rotating Earth perishing in a cosmic inferno. But the authors of Scripture wrote about the end of an age, not of the globe. They rarely, if ever, spoke globally.

Also, the word "earth," which appears so often in the New Testament, literally means "land." The authors of Scripture had a small portion of the Middle East — not the planet itself — under consideration. When we read about calamity coming "upon the earth," it’s coming "upon the land." It need not be falling upon Southeast Asia or the Americas for the statement to fulfill its meaning.

The Imminent Return

What may be the most daunting evidence against the view of Jesus coming anytime in the future is this: The event was supposed to happen within the lifetime of Jesus’ hearers, at least some of them. They would live to see the Parousia. Within a short span, Christ was to come in the clouds for judgment. Jesus, Peter, Paul, John, James all taught this. If anything in the New Testament is near undeniable, it is that the early disciples believed they were close to the end. It was "at hand" and "at the doors."

Some Christians scoff at this. They may see it as an impious belief. But there is nothing impious about following the evidence wherever it leads. Let the Scriptures speak for themselves. Here are no fewer than 20 texts that support the idea that the New Testament authors believed they were in the "last days" before the imminent coming of the Lord (emphases mine): 

"Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." (Matt. 3:2)

"But whenever they persecute you in this city, flee to the next; for truly I say to you [a group of early missionaries], you shall not finish going through the cities of Israel, until the Son of Man comes." (Matt. 10:23)

"For the Son of Man is going to come in the glory of His Father with His angels; and will then recompense every man according to his deeds. Truly I say to you, there are some of those who are standing here who shall not taste of death until they see the Son of Man coming in His kingdom." (Matt. 16:27)

"Truly I say to you, not one stone here [of the temple then standing] shall be left on another … But immediately after the tribulation of those days, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will fall …" (Matt. 24:2, 29)

"Truly I say to you, this generation will not pass away until all these things take place." (Matt. 24:34, concerning Christ’s coming in the clouds)

"The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near …" (Mark 1:15)

"But keep on the alert at all times, praying in order that you may have strength to escape all these things that are about to take place, and to stand before the Son of Man." (Luke 21:36)

"… they [Old Testament stories of judgment] were written for our instruction, upon whom the ends of the ages have come." (1 Cor. 10:11)

"… the Lord is at hand." (Phil. 4:5)

"God … in these last days has spoken to us through His son …" (Heb. 1:1, 2)

"For yet in a very little while, he who is coming will come and will not delay." (Heb. 10:37)

"You, too, be patient; strengthen your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is at hand." (James 5:8)

"The end of all things is at hand; therefore, be of sound judgment and sober spirit for the purpose of prayer." (1 Pet. 4:7)

"For it is time for judgment to begin with the household of God …" (1 Pet. 4:17)

"Children, it is the last hour; and just as you heard that antichrist is coming, even now many antichrists have arisen; from this we know that it is the last hour." (1 John 2:18)

"The Revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave Him to show to His bond-servants the things that must shortly take place …" (Rev. 1:1)

"Because you [the church of Philadelphia] have kept the word of my perseverance, I also will keep you from the hour of testing, that hour which is about to come upon the whole world, to test those who dwell upon the earth. I am coming quickly …" (Rev. 3:10, 11)

"… the Lord, the God of the spirits of the prophets, sent His angel to show to His bond-servants things which must shortly take place, and behold, I am coming quickly." (Rev. 22:6, 7)

"And he said to me, ‘Do not seal up the words of the prophecy of this book, for the time is near.’" (Rev. 22:10 — Compare with Dan. 12:4, when the time was not near.)

"He who testifies these things says, ‘Yes, I am coming quickly.’" (Rev. 22:20)

These texts leave scant doubt the early Christians believed Christ was coming soon, probably in their lifetime. Not that Jesus could come soon, but that he was coming soon. This, I maintain, is an honest assessment of the evidence.

Opponents of this view often attempt to soften the time indicators by telling us such terms are "elastic," that a thing remote to us is near to God. This is supposedly the meaning of 2 Pet. 3:8: ".. with the Lord one day is like a thousand years and a thousand years is like a day." But such reasoning destroys the meaning of words. If something "at hand" can be thousands of years off, language ceases to be meaningful.

Besides, such words retain their meanings elsewhere in the Bible. In Matt. 5:25, Jesus says, "Come to terms quickly with your accuser." The word "quickly" is the same one used in Rev. 22:20: "Surely I come quickly." In John 7:2, we read that "the Festival of Booths was near." The words "near" and "quickly" mean exactly what we would expect them to.

The prophets used time statements according to their normal sense. In Jer. 29:28, we read this about the prophesied captivity in Babylon: "It will be a long time; build houses and live in them, and plant gardens and eat what they produce." The 70-year captivity of God’s people would be long. Even, in prophetic time, 70 years is a long time.

The Figurative Coming of Christ

So what does this all mean? Were the early Christians mistaken about the coming of Jesus? The answer is, only if they were expecting a rapture, literal resurrection and supernatural fire from heaven. Many certainly did. Paul himself seemed to be looking for a rapture of believers into the air (1 Thes. 4:16, 17). The book of 1 Peter speaks of a burning up of heaven and earth. This was a view fairly common in first century Judaism.

Jesus, of course, did not come in the clouds at that time. He did not have to do so to fulfill the meaning of his end-of-the-age discourses. We can view the pictures of Christ descending in glory in a way similar to Jehovah in the Old Testament "riding on a swift cloud into Egypt." (Isa. 19:1) It is a figure of judgment, swift and certain. Figures appear in Old Testament prophecy that are similar to the language surrounding the Second Coming. In Isa. 34, we see cataclysmic events accompanying the fall of Idumea: the heavens being dissolved and rolling together as a scroll (v. 4), the Lord’s sword falling in judgment (v. 5), streams turning into pitch (v. 9). [1]

None of these things happened literally. They are representations of nature convulsing at the fall of a nation. The fall of Idumea is described in end-of-the-world metaphors, not unlike the language of Revelation or of Jesus’ Olivet Discourse. Such was the apocalyptic, extreme speech of the Hebrew prophets. Did such a swift calamity occur within the lifetimes of Jesus’ hearers? It certainly did. In A.D. 70, Titus of Rome obliterated Jerusalem and the Temple. It was a time of great tribulation, the passing of an age. Second Temple Judaism (not to be confused with today’s Judaism) had come to an abrupt end. For Christians, it could only mean that the Old Covenant had passed away completely. [2]

This was an epoch-making event, one of staggering religious import. It was appropriate that Jesus should describe it in such terms. If the fall of petty Idumea could be described cosmically, how much more Jerusalem, the geographic center of the Old Covenant faith? [3]

That event having transpired, there remains no reason to expect a physical descent of Christ from the heavens any time in the future. Besides, the literal idea of Messiah coming in the clouds is based on an old cosmology. The ancient Hebrews believed in a flat earth with four corners. Above it was the vault of heaven. Under such an arrangement, we might understand a descent of Christ from heaven that would be visible to all people. But with our modern understanding of the universe and a round Earth, it makes no sense.

Objections

Some may deem it the height of impiety to deny a future, bodily, literal coming of Christ as a conquering king. I understand this, and respect the fact that most Christians hold a view contrary to this “full-preterist” position. However, there are some considerations that many never make when formulating their understanding of “last things.” Among them are:

By believing that Jesus will literally come and conquer the world with iron-rod might, we inadvertently side with a view that led to his crucifixion. It is generally agreed that the Jews who called for our Lord’s death had a view of Messiah as a conquering king, one who would shatter the Roman oppressors and compel all to bow the knee to Yahweh. When Jesus introduced instead a kingdom of love, nonviolence and sacrifice, they rejected him. Many of today’s Christian futurists hold the same error — they await a conquering hero. The only difference is this: They believe that, while he came the first time in meekness, he will be the forceful ruling Messiah at some future date.

By demanding that prophetic statements of falling stars, the moon turning to blood and other celestial events be realized literally, we deny the reality of symbolically fulfilled prophecy. Much Old Testament prophecy about the coming of Christ into the world came to pass in non-literal ways. Was Jesus’ name literally called Emmanuel? Did Rachel really weep for her children when Herod slaughtered the children? Was Jesus’ heel bruised by a serpent? Did he literally bruise a serpent’s head? True, some prophecies were realized literally, such as Messiah riding on a donkey’s colt. But even here the original prophecy has many elements that were not. Besides this, Jesus told us, “The words I speak to you, they are spirit and they are life.” Isn’t spiritual language often clothed with figures and symbolism, rather than stark literalism?

By maintaining that Jesus may come back tomorrow, burn everything up and start over again with a reign of righteousness, we unwittingly stifle initiative to improve the lives of our fellow men. The social gospel’s greatest enemy in the church is the highly apocalyptic interpretation of the Second Coming. Some advocates of that view have even said such things as, “You don’t polish brass on a sinking ship.” They have a point. If Jesus is ready to come back and fix everything, why should we try to fix things now? If “it’s all going to burn,” what is the use of spending ourselves to uplift humanity, relieve the oppressed, challenge injustice?

By presenting the Second Coming as a literal, future event, we diminish our credibility in the midst of an increasingly skeptical society. I realize that some might say I am accommodating the unbelieving tendencies of sinful men. But I maintain that we do no service to the gospel message when we tack onto it a scenario that, to the average American, must resemble science fiction. I mean no disrespect here. But I don’t know that we can really bring multitudes into the church if we demand they believe this: Someday you may be sitting on your patio, looking up at the sky, and it will rend with a great noise as all the angelic hosts descend to earth with Jesus; all around you, dead people will appear and Christians will begin to fly up into the sky to meet Jesus. Does this tend to engender faith or, on the contrary, the notion that Christians believe highly improbable doctrines?

Others will complain that a symbolic interpretation of the Second Coming does not give us a tidy enough system of eschatology. Where does everything fit in? What do we do with the resurrection of the dead, the Judgment, the reign of peace and righteousness or other elements of the "end times?"

The answer, which will fail to satisfy many, is that not all truth yields a comprehensive "system" that answers all the questions. It is possible to believe in a "broad brush" principle without having to explain how all of the details relate to it. All systems of eschatology have weaknesses, and this one is no exception. But it does justice to many foundational themes of Scripture, and that is good enough for many of us.

Conclusion

Such a view should destroy no one’s faith. While it may raise questions about the literal interpretation of the Bible or a supernatural Second Coming, it does nothing to wipe away such beliefs as immortality and the final triumph of goodness. These are at the foundation of religious life. They are bound up with the faithfulness of God himself. No view of "last things" should disrupt them. And so, as the hysteria continues about the "end times," we ought to be aware that such sentiment has come and gone over the centuries. Jesus’ coming to end the age took place in its essence historically, under the figure of falling stars and other disturbances in the heavens. It was not a literal or physical event.

The Apocalypse marked the demise of a religious institution. There is no compelling reason to expect it to happen literally in our future. Certainly not so long — so many, many centuries — after the prophetic announcement, "Behold, I come quickly."

Footnotes: [1] Adam Clarke, himself a historicist who believed in a future coming of Christ, concedes the use of this apocalyptic language. In a note on Isa. 24:23, he quotes the great scientist, Sir Isaac Newton: "The figurative language of the prophets is taken from the analogy between the world natural and an empire or kingdom considered as the world’s politic … Great earthquakes, and the shaking of kingdoms, so as to distract and overthrow them; the creating of new heaven and earth, and the passing away of an old one, or the beginning and end of a world for the rise and ruin of a body politic thereby … setting of the sun, moon and stars, darkening of the sun, turning the moon into blood, and falling of the stars, for the ceasing of a kingdom. (Clarke’s Commentaries, New York: Eaton and Mains, n.d., Vol. IV, p. 115.) [2] One difficulty with this view is that only a minority of scholars believe the New Testament was penned in its entirety before A.D. 70. But they have some powerful arguments concerning the internal evidence of the writings, arguments that go beyond the scope of this article. [3] Some may object that it is anti-Semitic to define the Second Coming as the destruction of Old Covenant Judaism. This is a valid objection, one that I do not take lightly. The Jewish people have suffered miserably and unduly over the centuries, and we must all repudiate any hint of bigotry against them. Ultimately, however, the prophecies of Jesus against Jerusalem are no more anti-Semitic than the Old Testament prophecies against her (which are many). They are all calls to repentance, a holding out of God's grace to a people in need of it. Why the city's demise had to come with such violence is a mystery known only to God. This is but a portion of the larger problem of evil in world, a extremely thorny problem for which there is no easy answer.

[adambethyname-blog]

Top 10 Songs & Their Movie Scenes (Part 1)

Music and movies have always gone hand and hand. It seems like every movie worth it's weight in salt has some kind of song to tie in with movie.

But there are times when the song in question actually defines the movie. And due to a cosmic relationship between a moment and a song, scenes and songs are forever joined at the hip.

Sure, every James Bond movie had a theme song that went with the title (“For Your Eyes Only,” by Sheena Easton and “Live and Let Die” by Paul McCartney and Wings being the most popular), but what about a song that ties itself to a moment and a moment alone?

Once that marriage occurs, it is impossible to ever shake the image burned into the screen that accompanies the song. Forever, when that song comes on the radio, it brings back memories of that scene in the film.

Here are the Top 10 Songs and Scenes of all time:

#10: “In Your Eyes” by Peter Gabriel, from “Say Anything” (1989): When Lloyd Dobler (John Cusak) is dumped by his girlfriend Diane (Ione Skye), his phone calls are unreturned and his letters are ignored. Desperate for her attention, he comes up with a dramatic idea. Park your Chevy Malibu in front of her house and hold your boombox high above your head as Peter Gabriel's song blasted toward the second floor of the house. It much gave every teenage male in the late eighties an idea of how to woo their crush. Yet, Dobler's act of affection could go down as one of the most romantic gestures in any movie, despite its relative cheesiness. The scene is actually time stamped since you can't hold up an iPod and expect someone on the second floor to hear you.

#9: “Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen, from “Wayne's World” (1992): As far as movies that are based on Saturday Night Live sketches go, “Wayne's World” was one of the rare hits. While the exhaustive use of the phrases “not,” “schwing,” and “excellent” have faded from the lexicon, only a few moments of Aurora, Illinois' favorite public access cable show remain. As Wayne (Mike Myers) and Garth (Dana Carvey) make their way out for the evening, Wayne pops in a cassette of Queen's dramatic rock anthem as Garth's AMC Pacer cruises down the highway. Wayne, Garth, and the rest of the back seat all chime in, harmonizing over Freddy Mercury's flamboyant vocals, breaking into a furious synchronized headbang as the pace of the song hits its bridge. Party on.

#8: “Old Time Rock N' Roll” by Bob Seger, from “Risky Business” (1983): My parents never went out of town. My parents never did anything. Ever. But when Joel's parents went out of town, he gets to go joyriding in his parent's Porsche, pick up expensive call girls, and dance naked in his living room. In a scene that was completely improvised by Tom Cruise, Joel turns up the high-fi and strips down to his dress shirt, socks and bun-huggers. He slides across the hardwood floor just as the opening bars on the piano break the silence. He lip-synchs into a candlestick, dances around the house as we're reminded that “today's music ain't got the same soul.” Do you hear that, Justin Bieber?

#7: “Johnny B. Goode” by Chuck Barry, from “Back to the Future” (1985): It's an oldie where he comes from, but that doesn't stop Michael J. Fox's Marty McFly from introducing the stuffed shirts of 1955 to rock and roll. McFly who's filling in for Marvin Barry (Chuck's cousin) let's loose with a guitar solo-laden version of “Johnny B. Goode” that sends the crowd into a coma as their heads are blasted by McFly's Eddie Van Halen inspired fret work. It wasn't the music the crowd was prepared for, but their kids are going to love it.

#6: “Puttin' on the Ritz” performed by Gene Wilder and Peter Boyle, from “Young Frankenstein” (1974): Originally written in 1929 by Irvin Berlin for the musical by the same name, “Puttin' on the Ritz” has gone through several transformations, ending with Taco Ockerse's 1982 one-hit wonder, but none were quite as memorable as Wilder and Boyle performing for the medical community of Transylvania. Dr. Frankenstein and his creation break into a rousing tap number with an indecipherable chorus howled by Boyle in an effort to prove that his creature is a “man about town.”

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Michael After Midnight - Star Wars: Episode IV - A New Hope

A long time ago in a galaxy far away… a movie came out that changed the fate of cinema forever. That movie was A New Hope, the first Star Wars movie ever made and the fourth chronologically in the ongoing saga of the incredibly dysfunctional Skywalker family. George Lucas set the world on fire with this groundbreaking space opera, blending sci-fi and fantasy elements to create a fascinating new world, and introducing some of the most iconic characters and concepts ever seen in a ll of cinema. Can something like this even possibly hold up after all these years?

Yes. Yes it can.

I don’t think it’s a controversial statement to call this one of the finest films ever made, and from a writing, storytelling, and character standpoint, this is easily one of the best films in the franchise, if not my most favorite one (that honor goes to the next entry). But there is no denying the enormous impact the start of Luke Skywalker’s journey to become a Jedi had on popular culture, so let’s check out why they started warring in the stars all those years ago…

Our story begins with two icons meeting: the rebellious, badass princess Leia, fleeing with important info for the rebels, and Darth Vader, the ultimate imposing badass, cinema’s crowning achievement in awesome villainy. Leia, knowing capture is imminent, sends out two more icons, the droids R2-D2 and C-3PO, to find the (iconic) Obi-Wan Kenobi – he’s her only hope. They soon arrive on Tatooine, where they get picked up by none other than the iconic hero, Luke Skywalker, who is right now a whiny little farmboy. Soon enough, he is flung into adventure, teaming up with Kenobi, the droids, and the iconic smuggler duo Han Solo and Chewbacca in their iconic ship, The Millenium Falcon. Can these icons take down the evil icons and their iconic space station superweapon, the Death Star?

Okay, you may have noticed I used the word “iconic” a lot up there; it’s just a hunch, but I think you noticed. And there’s obviously a good reason: every single major character in this movie is one that just about anyone will know. Luke Skywalker, Darth Vader, Princess Leia, Chewbacca, Obi-Wan, Han Solo, C-3PO, R2-D2… they’re all pretty much household names! This extends to stuff like The Millenium Falcon and the Death Star as well; they’re some of the most iconic ships in all of sci-fi. Jedi, the Force, Stormtroopers… this movie added so many sci-fi mainstays to the nerd lexicon, it’s not even funny. This is basically The Fellowship of the Rings of sci-fi. And the characters deserve their status! ...Well, mostly. You see, it was more for the sequels that a lot of these characters truly grew into the versions we’re all envisioning in our heads. I mean, for instance, here Luke is still kind of a whiny little weenie, and Darth Vader just sort of stands there menacingly. The only character who truly earns his stay right off the bat is Han Solo, played by good ol’ Harrison Ford. From that very first scene where he guns down Greedo without batting an eye like a goddamn Space James Bond, Han Solo establishes himself as the guy with the biggest nuts in the galaxy. This smarmy asshole is easily the coolest guy in the movie, and boy does he know it. His snarkiness and the fact his partner is an eight foot tall gargling carpet creature with a laser crossbow easily make the movie.

But let’s not give Han all the credit; Leia is plenty amusing here, even if she randomly loses her accent about halfway through, and Alec Guinness sure does turn in an excellent performance despite only doing it for the money and hating Star Wars before it was cool. And even though he’s not doing anything too impressive yet, the rumbling voice of James Earl Jones lends the sinister qualities Vader needs to cement himself in your mind when coupled with his awesome design. And hey, if that’s not enough iconicness for you, that score! Has there ever been a more iconic score? I mean, yeah, probably, but this one is still way up there! And that iconic trip into the Mos Eisley cantina with all those aliens around, and that iconic music playing… the word iconic has to have lost all meaning by now, huh?

Of course, this is a George Lucas movie, so there are problems… like the dialogue! Not sure how we didn’t realize what the prequels would be like, but there’s plenty of awkwardness, corniness, and cliches crammed into this dialogue! But, let’s be real: it’s easy to give it a pass here, because as corny as some of the lines are (especially the ones whined out by Luke), the story is exciting and engaging and the characters are really likable and interesting. The prequels had SOME likable and interesting characters, but it took them three movies to get a story you gave a shit about to see the characters in. Here, right off the bat, Lucas gives us what we want: cool characters in a good story with cheesy writing.

Something I will touch on a bit is the re-edits… you know, the ones where George Lucas added in deleted scenes and shitloads of CGI. My opinion on them is that while they don’t add anything and sometimes the CGI really fucking clutters the screen, like fuck off, I’m trying to see, it doesn’t really… ruin anything either. Even the infamous “Han shot first” moment, the fact it was reedited to have Greedo shoot first at point blank range with a laser AND STILL MISS makes the scene one of the funniest fucking things you’ll ever see and turns Greedo into a memetic loser for the ages (Did I mention I love Greedo? I fucking love Greedo. His design is great).

This movie is a classic, no ifs, ands, or buts. There is no denying the sheer staying power this film has, from its legendary scenes to its awesome music to its compelling characters. Sure, it has cheesy dialogue and clunky lightsaber duels, and the CGI in the remastered versions is pretty weak, but that doesn’t change that this was THE Star Wars, the first one, the original, often copied but rarely imitated quite so good. It’s no flawless masterpiece, but masterpieces don’t have to be; this is an influential classic that has truly earned the right to be called just that.

Man, sure would be hard to top a film like this! Like, a sequel would have to have even cooler action sequences, emotional drama, huge dramatic plot twists, and a really cool bounty hunter who does absolutely nothing of note but is still cool somehow! I wonder if they could pull that off?