#matthew perpetua

[sinceileftyoublog]

Yo La Tengo Live Show Review: 3/24, Metro, Chicago

BY JORDAN MAINZER

When Yo La Tengo released “Fallout”, the lead single from their latest album This Stupid World (Matador), journalist Matthew Perpetua likened it to “them doing their best to answer the question ‘what's so special about Yo La Tengo?’ and nailing it.” The name of the album comes from a refrain in the title track, wherein Ira Kaplan sings, “This stupid world is all we have.” The two ideas are connected: Throughout their almost 40 years of existence, the Hoboken indie rock band have engaged with the globe, musical and otherwise, by shapeshifting and always experimenting, not even ideas like performing an hour and a half drone set instead of actual songs too outlandish. They’re still looking for “something interesting” to them, but it seems like they’re always questioning and ultimately deciding what makes them interesting to listeners. For lack of better terms, their music--gentle even when noisy--has always sounded gorgeously internal. Appropriately, This Stupid World was made without outside producers, mixers, and recorders (Greg Calbi mastered it), and it was billed as the most “live sounding” Yo La Tengo album in years. As it turns out, “most live” is not just an aesthetic descriptor: like the best YLT live sets, the album’s lyrics are filled with encyclopedic references to music history, warm tenderness, and dry and dark humor.

Not since the Fade tour have I seen Yo La Tengo divide their setlists in two: one generally gentle, one generally loud (as opposed to arbitrarily acoustic vs. electric). The songs on This Stupid World perfectly fit this dynamic, as evidenced by the band’s masterful show Friday night at Metro. Ever since I heard album opener “Sinatra Drive Breakdown”, I figured it would be an ideal set opener, perhaps for years to come, effectively building up with steady drums and nervy guitars. “Until we all break,” Kaplan and Georgia Hubley repeated on Friday, as if to refer to anything and everything from the songs themselves, scrawling into a noisy mess, to even the human race that’s spurred the band’s sardonic attitude. The Hubley-delivered melancholia of “Aselestine” and “Miles Away” were wonderfully atmospheric, the calm shoegaze and drum machine skitter of the latter acting as a segue into the increasingly swirling noise of the second set. The James McNew-led “Tonight’s Episode” and jazzy “Apology Letter” settled into playful grooves, rifle with playful call and response (about yo-yo tricks, nonetheless) and self-deprecation.

The album’s title track and lead single found their way into the band’s second set, the former leading them off with a cornucopia of squeaking guitars and pounding percussion. “Fallout”, meanwhile, is already on my shortlist of top YLT fuzz-pop classics, up there with “From A Motel 6″, “Tom Courtenay”, and “For You Too”. “I wanna fall out of time,” Kaplan sang, as if to recognize the timelessness of the sounds the band was conjuring. It should fit nicely in future sets, sandwiched in between songs like “Evanescent Psychic Pez Drop” and “Drug Test” released decades prior. If there was one song from This Stupid World I wished they had played during this set, it was “Brain Capers”. (According to setlist.fm, the band has been playing most of the record each time out, switching off night by night which songs they exclude.) It’s quintessential Yo La Tengo, referencing tunes by Alice Cooper and The Kinks, and a Rick Moranis Second City Television sketch where he plays Michael McDonald singing backup, walking into the recording room for only seconds at a time to belt his notes, before walking out. The sketch reminds me, funny enough, of whenever Yo La Tengo perform “Ashes”, as they did during their first set of the night: When it was time for the cymbals to be brushed, Kaplan nonchalantly walked over, brushed them once, and walked back to the microphone. The crowd cheered and laughed.

After I took photos during the first three songs of the night, as per venue policy, I checked my camera bag, missing the fourth song of the night Yo La Tengo played: a cover of Wilco’s “If I Ever Was A Child”. If I had seen it, and realized Wilco had an off night during a three-shows-in-four-days stint at the Riviera, I would have expected something was up. Nonetheless, when during the band’s per-usual covers encore, Kaplan admitted to the band being “really beat” and needing help, the last thing I thought I would see would be Wilco walking out on stage to burn though Beatles, Dylan, The Heartbreakers, and Fairport Convention covers. It was a fitting moment, the stage full of the members of two bands who continue to thrive by listening to the crowd and each other, paying tribute to what compels them.

[viktorgf]

—10 fandoms, 10 characters, 10 mutuals

emma @red-nightskies i’m obsessed w you thank u for the tag mwah 💋 idk who wants to do this so if i miss a tag consider urself tagged bless up @simply-jason ⚜️ @kyber-infinitygems ⚜️ @teamhawkeye ⚜️ @deputyrook ⚜️ @ghostfvcker ⚜️ @paddingtongirl ⚜️ @ansburg ⚜️ @bloodofvalyria ⚜️ @rosayoro ⚜️ @mxgyver ⚜️🩷✨

in no particular order—

SMOKE | MORTAL KOMBAT; i just think he’s neat idk i have been rotating him around in my brain since september please send help actually

ANNA HENRIETTA | THE WITCHER; you guys know this abt me she is serving and slaying and she occupies my mind always

CYBIL BENNETT | SILENT HILL; yes i hyper focused on a woman that is in one game i love her fuck ass bob so what. sue me.

LALO SALAMANCA | BETTER CALL SAUL; i could have put nacho and i should have but he mostly just makes me upset. so here’s the silliest goofiest guy in all of albuquerque

THANATOS | HADES; YES KING COME TO MY CHAMBER SO YOU CAN RING YOUR LITTLE BELL AND I CAN DESTROY YOU IN A KILLING SPREE

HOSEA MATTHEWS | RED DEAD REDEMPTION 2; featuring a lil charthur mwah mwah mwah aaaand the best dad ever best dilf award goes to—

MASAKO ADACHI | GHOST OF TSUSHIMA; the best canon url i ever had and will have. i love this woman. play ghost of tsushima.

DONNA BENEVIENTO | RESIDENT EVIL; show me a tragic character and i will show you the hole in my heart that is them shaped.

PERPETUA | BLASPHEMOUS; she is a ghost she’s possessed she’s been dead the whole time she’s actively plotting against god she’s everything to me

CHLOE FRAZER | UNCHARTED; women 🫶🏻

[angeltreasure]

Hello. I’m not sure if I feel silly or not (and not sure if you know or care about it at all) but Matthew Perry from the show Friends passed away and it just kinda hit me in quite a strong way. Growing up, friends was always one of my fave shows and me and my own best friend would always have it on so this has make me feel really sad and I shed a few tears. At the same time, it reminds me why my faith is so important and just shows shows me again why hollywood is not what it seems to be etc. I don’t know where his soul is right now and that also makes me really saddened but yeah, I guess I just wanted to share with you here 😢

Good Morning,

I didn’t watch the show that much but I know who that actor is from the show. My mom told me he had a lot of problems with addiction to alcohol and drugs, had a lot of life saving surgeries and rehab visits. That poor man suffered so much. It can make us cry because we have to look past the fame and see the dignity of the human person and we realize that’s a child of God suffering. We don’t know where his soul is but we can pray for him! Thank you for sharing that with me. Let’s pray for Matthew Perry together.

-

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord,

and let perpetual light shine upon them.

May the souls of all the faithful departed,

through the mercy of God, rest in peace.

~Amen~

——

Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine.

Et lux perpetua luceat eis.

Fidelium animae, per misericordiam Dei,

requiescant in pace.

~Amen~

[anastpaul]

One Minute Reflection – 6 March –  ‘ … And, the greater their purity, the more they will see!’

One Minute Reflection – 6 March – “The Month of St Joseph” – Wednesday of the Third Week in Lent Sts Perpetua and Felicity (Died c203) Martyrs  – Ecclesiasticus Sirach 51:13-17; Matthew 13:44-52 – Scripture search here: https://www.drbo.org/ “The Kingdom of Heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field.” – Matthew 13:44 REFLECTION – “Some of the brethren think that they are excluded from the Holy…

[orthodoxydaily]

Saints&Reading: Wednesday, February 14, 2024

february 1_january 14

Forefeast of the meeting of the Lord

Forefeast of the meeting of the Lord

VENERABLE PETER OF GALATIA, HERMIT NEAR ANTIOCH (Syria_429)

Saint Peter of Galatia lived during the IV-V century, and came from the region of the Black Sea. From a young age was distinguished by his fervent piety and his determination to acquire spiritual treasures. When he was seven years old, he went to Galatia and then to Palestine, where his faith grew even stronger. During the second quarter of the IV century, He lived an ascetical life in the mountains, which had been glorified by so many great spiritual athletes and teachers of Christianity.

Saint Peter was able to perform miracles, just as Christ did, so that even his garments had miraculous power, just as the Apostle Paul's handkerchiefs and aprons did (Acts 29:22). It did not take long for his spiritual fruits to be noticed, and many people came to him, reaping valuable advice and solace for the wounds of their souls, which were very difficult to cure.

Because of his great virtue, he also received from God the gift (charism, χάρισμα) of having demons subject to him. He delivered a possessed man named Daniel from the demons, whom he instructed in asceticism, and then accepted him as his co-struggler.

Later, he healed the mother of the historian Bishop Theodoret of Cyrrhus, a devout woman who suffered from an incurable disease in one eye. Hearing about Saint Peter's gift of working miracles, she hoped that he would heal her of this terrible affliction. Theodoret's mother was only twenty-three years old when she went to see him. She was very beautiful, and she wore a lot of make-up, an expensive silk dress, and gold bracelets on her arms, as well as gold rings in her ears. When the holy monk looked at her, he discerned some good soil (Matthew 13:8) in her for a word of profitable instruction, but decided that first he would cure her fondness for fine clothing.

He said, "My child, just as a painter who does not paint according to the rules of his art, but as he pleases, insults the art of painting, so do those who cover their faces with red, white, or black paint, offend the Creator; for in this way they seem to accuse Him of imperfection in His creation, but He has the power to do as He wishes. As the Prophet-King David wrote: 'All that the Lord willed, He created' (Psalm 134/135:6). He gives to everyone everything that is useful, and nothing which is harmful. Do not disfigure the divine image created by God."

The monk's words fell on fertile ground and produced good fruit. The young woman fell at the ascetic's feet and begged him to pray for her and to heal her. Saint Peter replied, "If you have firm faith in God's help, you will be cured of your illness; for God is always ready to grant the petitions of a believing soul."

Then he placed his hand on the afflicted eye and, making the Sign of the Cross, he healed her.

The Saint once blinded a city magistrate, who wanted to rape a certain nun, thereby preventing him from carrying out his unholy desire. Saint Peter performed many other great miracles, as Bishop Theodoret (who wrote his Life) relates.

After living in a God-pleasing manner for ninety-nine years, Saint Peter surrendered his soul to God and received the reward for his spiritual and ascetical labors in the year 429 at the age of 95 (or 99, according to other sources).

In Greek usage, Saint Peter is commemorated on November 25. He should not be confused with the other Saint Peter of Galatia, who lived during the IX century, and is commemorated on October 9.

THE HOLY MARTYR PERPETUA A WOMAN OF CARTHAGE, AND THE CATHECHUMENS SATURUS,REVOCATUS, SATURNIUS, SECUNDULUS AND FELICITAS (202-203)

The Holy Martyrs Perpetua, Felicitas and those with them. Vibia Perpetua was from a patrician family, and lived in Carthage. She came to believe in Christ, and was baptized after her arrest as a Christian. A few days later, the twenty-two-year-old woman was taken to prison with her infant son. Arrested with her were her brother Saturus, the servants Felicitas, Revocatus, Saturninus and Secundulus, who were also catechumens.

Despite the exhortations of her father, who persistently appealed to her maternal feelings, the widowed Saint Perpetua refused to offer sacrifice to the pagan gods.

Before their execution, Saints Perpetua and Saturus had visions from God, which strengthened their souls. Saint Felicitas, who was eight months pregnant, gave birth to a baby girl while in prison. She rejoiced because now she would be permitted to die with her companions. There was a law forbidding the execution of pregnant women.

The martyrs were led from the prison into the amphitheatre. Saturninus and Revocatus had to face a leopard and a bear. Saints Perpetua and Felicitas were brought to the arena in nets, and they were pitted against a wild heifer. After being tossed to the ground by the heifer, the two women were led out of the arena. Saturus was bitten by a leopard, but did not die. The martyrs were then led to a certain spot to be killed by the sword. The young gladiator who was to execute Saint Perpetua was inexperienced and did not kill her with the first blow. She herself took his hand and guided it to her throat, and so she received the crown of martyrdom. This occurred in about the year 203.

The amphitheatre where these saints perished is located a few miles from the city of Tunis. In 1881, a room was discovered opposite the modern entrance into the arena. Some say this was a cell where the victims waited to be brought into the arena.

JAMES 4:7-5:9

7 Therefore submit to God. Resist the devil and he will flee from you. 8 Draw near to God and He will draw near to you. Cleanse your hands, you sinners; and purify your hearts, you double-minded. 9 Lament and mourn and weep! Let your laughter be turned to mourning and your joy to gloom. 10 Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and He will lift you up. 11 Do not speak evil of one another, brethren. He who speaks evil of a brother and judges his brother, speaks evil of the law and judges the law. But if you judge the law, you are not a doer of the law but a judge. 12 There is one Lawgiver, who is able to save and to destroy. Who are you to judge another? 13 Come now, you who say, "Today or tomorrow we will go to such and such a city, spend a year there, buy and sell, and make a profit"; 14 whereas you do not know what will happen tomorrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away. 15 Instead you ought to say, "If the Lord wills, we shall live and do this or that." 16 But now you boast in your arrogance. All such boasting is evil. 17 Therefore, to him who knows to do good and does not do it, to him it is sin.

1 Come now, you rich, weep and howl for your miseries that are coming upon you! 2 Your riches are corrupted, and your garments are moth-eaten. 3 Your gold and silver are corroded, and their corrosion will be a witness against you and will eat your flesh like fire. You have heaped up treasure in the last days. 4 Indeed the wages of the laborers who mowed your fields, which you kept back by fraud, cry out; and the cries of the reapers have reached the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth. 5 You have lived on the earth in pleasure and luxury; you have fattened your hearts as in a day of slaughter. 6 You have condemned, you have murdered the just; he does not resist you. 7 Therefore be patient, brethren, until the coming of the Lord. See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, waiting patiently for it until it receives the early and latter rain. 8 You also be patient. Establish your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is at hand. 9 Do not grumble against one another, brethren, lest you be condemned. Behold, the Judge is standing at the door!

MARK 11:23-26

23 For assuredly, I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, 'Be removed and be cast into the sea,' and does not doubt in his heart, but believes that those things he says will be done, he will have whatever he says. 24 Therefore I say to you, whatever things you ask when you pray, believe that you receive them, and you will have them. 25 And whenever you stand praying, if you have anything against anyone, forgive him, that your Father in heaven may also forgive you your trespasses. 26 But if you do not forgive, neither will your Father in heaven forgive your trespasses.

[ominouspositivity-or-else]

one thing that i think is very nice is that catholics are always gonna name their kids catholic baby names. like there's always gonna be a little girl named Mary and a little boy named Matthew. There's always gonna be a girl named Cecelia and a boy named James. Someone's gonna keep naming their little ones John Paul and when he gets to be 10 he's exclusively going to go by JP, if he doesn't already. Someone's going to be named Theresa and someone's going to be named Anne. Even with the edgier Catholics, Felicity and Perpetua and Bibiana and and Ambrose and Athanasius and Cosmas and Blaise. There's always gonna be people with good names, no matter how many parents decide to name their kids Poot and Babu.

[landboundstar]

Trade Secrets Part 9

So, I reached the first part of my story after Crime Alley. I decided to skip the normal Crime Alley scene, so we have skipped ahead to the end of the funeral. It is going to be interesting dealing with how this version of these characters are going to process their grief in this story.

Trade Secrets

Part 9

I don't know how I made myself move.

Standing, with rain hitting the umbrella, I watched cars pull away from the graveyard.

And felt like I had turned to stone, like a statue that belonged here just as much as the two roses that laid on the freshly turned dirt.

I don't know how I made myself move.

But, I do know why I moved.

Zatanna leaned against me, shivering in her coat. Her face was red and splotchy from crying through the service. She rubbed my spare handkerchief across her nose again with her right hand.

Her left hand had been holding Bruce's hand the whole time that we had been at the graveyard. Selina and Harvey had rested hands on Bruce's shoulders. And Bruce had just stood, tears streaming down his face.

Normally, I would have asked Alfred. But, with the way Rachel was sobbing against her father, I couldn't ask right then. 

"Excuse me," I touched the shoulder of the man who stood a few steps away from me, a man I had only met a few months before. 

He turned, as did the woman weeping openly next to him. 

"I'm sorry, Dr. Thorne, Dr. Thompkins, but I think we need to get the children out of the rain. Would you like to join us?"

Matthew Thorne looked at Alfred and Rachel, Zatanna by my side, Selina and Harvey who stood, coats dripping in the rain, and Bruce. Then, he nodded.

"Of course, just give me a second, and I'll -" He patted his pockets, looking for keys.

"No need," I said, and did something I rarely did off stage.

"Reappa."

I swayed, forgetting how jolting the spell could be, especially when I was moving so many people with it, and steadied myself with a hand on a chair.

Looking at the wide-eyed expressions on both Selina and Harvey's faces and the identical expressions on both doctors, I realized that in trying to help, I might have made an already terrible situation worse by forgetting that stage magic, let alone real magic, could be a shock to most people's systems.

That, and the loneliness of standing in the living room, where I had shared so many visits with Thomas and Martha brought my own grief up in a sudden wave.

"Excuse me."

 I walked out of the room and down the steps to the kitchen, because however overwhelming my grief was, there were children to take care of.

That had gotten me through the moments when my love for Sindella still welled up so much it hurt. And it would get me through this fresh grief.

But it could do nothing to diminish the hurt.

I opened the fridge, and shut it.

"Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis. Requiescant in pace. Amen."

It was a prayer rather than a spell, but I drew strength from the words, from my grief, from the feeling of helplessness, and cast from that strength.

"I was going to ask if you needed anything, but I see you have it in hand." Alfred said from behind me, still wearing the same long wool coat he had worn through the service.

He walked past and grabbed one of the two trays I had conjured. I went to open my mouth to speak, but Alfred stopped me.

"It is better for me to have something to do."

I said nothing, but just carried the other tray up the stairs.

We all sat together, picking at the meat, cheese, and vegetables on the tray over a quiet meal.

Halfway through, Bruce just stopped eating, breaking into a fresh wave of tears. Dr. Thompkins walked over and enfolded him in a hug, letting him weep on her shoulder.

And the rest of us stayed, not knowing what to do, but not wanting to be alone either.

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

7th March >> Mass Readings (USA)

Tuesday, Second Week of Lent

  (optional commemoration of Saints Perpetua and Felicity, Martyrs)

(Liturgical Colour: Violet: Year A(1))

First Reading Isaiah 1:10, 16-20 Learn to do good; make justice your aim.

Hear the word of the LORD, princes of Sodom! Listen to the instruction of our God, people of Gomorrah!Wash yourselves clean!

Put away your misdeeds from before my eyes; cease doing evil; learn to do good. Make justice your aim: redress the wronged, hear the orphan’s plea, defend the widow.

Come now, let us set things right, says the LORD: Though your sins be like scarlet, they may become white as snow; Though they be crimson red, they may become white as wool. If you are willing, and obey, you shall eat the good things of the land; But if you refuse and resist, the sword shall consume you: for the mouth of the LORD has spoken!

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 50:8-9, 16bc-17, 21 and 23

R/ To the upright I will show the saving power of God.

“Not for your sacrifices do I rebuke you, for your burnt offerings are before me always. I take from your house no bullock, no goats out of your fold.”

R/ To the upright I will show the saving power of God.

“Why do you recite my statutes, and profess my covenant with your mouth, Though you hate discipline and cast my words behind you?”

R/ To the upright I will show the saving power of God.

“When you do these things, shall I be deaf to it? Or do you think that I am like yourself? I will correct you by drawing them up before your eyes. He that offers praise as a sacrifice glorifies me; and to him that goes the right way I will show the salvation of God.”

R/ To the upright I will show the saving power of God.

Gospel Acclamation Ezekiel 18:31

Cast away from you all the crimes you have committed, says the Lord, and make for yourselves a new heart and a new spirit.

Gospel Matthew 23:1-12 They preach but they do not practice.

Jesus spoke to the crowds and to his disciples, saying, “The scribes and the Pharisees have taken their seat on the chair of Moses. Therefore, do and observe all things whatsoever they tell you, but do not follow their example. For they preach but they do not practice. They tie up heavy burdens hard to carry and lay them on people’s shoulders, but they will not lift a finger to move them. All their works are performed to be seen. They widen their phylacteries and lengthen their tassels. They love places of honor at banquets, seats of honor in synagogues, greetings in marketplaces, and the salutation ‘Rabbi.’ As for you, do not be called ‘Rabbi.’ You have but one teacher, and you are all brothers. Call no one on earth your father; you have but one Father in heaven. Do not be called ‘Master’; you have but one master, the Christ. The greatest among you must be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[landboundstar-writing]

Trade Secrets Part 9

Repost from main blog and AO3.

Please tip and/or reblog if you like.

I don't know how I made myself move. Standing, with rain hitting the umbrella, I watched cars pull away from the graveyard.

And felt like I had turned to stone, like a statue that belonged here just as much as the two roses that laid on the freshly turned dirt.

I don't know how I made myself move.

But, I do know why I moved.

Zatanna leaned against me, shivering in her coat. Her face was red and splotchy from crying through the service. She rubbed my spare handkerchief across her nose again with her right hand.

Her left hand had been holding Bruce's hand the whole time that we had been at the graveyard. Selina and Harvey had rested hands on Bruce's shoulders. And Bruce had just stood, tears streaming down his face.

Normally, I would have asked Alfred. But, with the way Rachel was sobbing against her father, I couldn't ask right then. 

"Excuse me," I touched the shoulder of the man who stood a few steps away from me, a man I had only met a few months before. 

He turned, as did the woman weeping openly next to him. 

"I'm sorry, Dr. Thorne, Dr. Thompkins, but I think we need to get the children out of the rain. Would you like to join us?"

Matthew Thorne looked at Alfred and Rachel, Zatanna by my side, Selina and Harvey who stood, coats dripping in the rain, and Bruce. Then, he nodded.

"Of course, just give me a second, and I'll -" He patted his pockets, looking for keys.

"No need," I said, and did something I rarely did off stage.

"Reappa."

I swayed, forgetting how jolting the spell could be, especially when I was moving so many people with it, and steadied myself with a hand on a chair.

Looking at the wide-eyed expressions on both Selina and Harvey's faces and the identical expressions on both doctors, I realized that in trying to help, I might have made an already terrible situation worse by forgetting that stage magic, let alone real magic, could be a shock to most people's systems.

That, and the loneliness of standing in the living room, where I had shared so many visits with Thomas and Martha brought my own grief up in a sudden wave.

"Excuse me."

 I walked out of the room and down the steps to the kitchen, because however overwhelming my grief was, there were children to take care of.

That had gotten me through the moments when my love for Sindella still welled up so much it hurt. And it would get me for this fresh grief.

But it could do nothing to diminish the hurt.

I opened the fridge, and shut it.

"Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis. Requiescant in pace. Amen."

It was a prayer rather than a spell, but I drew strength from the words, from my grief, from the feeling of helplessness, and cast from that strength.

"I was going to ask if you needed anything, but I see you have it in hand." Alfred said from behind me, still wearing the same long wool coat he had worn through the service.

He walked past and grabbed one of the two trays I had conjured. I went to open my mouth to speak, but Alfred stopped me.

"It is better for me to have something to do."

I said nothing, but just carried the other tray up the stairs.

We all sat together, picking at the meat, cheese, and vegetables on the tray over a quiet meal.

Halfway through, Bruce just stopped eating, breaking into a fresh wave of tears. Dr. Thompkins walked over and enfolded him in a hug, letting him weep on her shoulder.

And the rest of us stayed, not knowing what to do, but not wanting to be alone either.

[lendamico]

Barking On Command: R.E.M.'s Monster Tour

Inspired by this tweet from Matthew Perpetua, pointing out that R.E.M.’s 1995 Monster tour featured a veritable who’s who of contemporaneous alt music, the first half of the playlist is a grab bag of artist who opened for R.E.M. during that international trek, including Sonic Youth, Radiohead, The Cranberries, Grant Lee Buffalo, PJ Harvey, Blur, Oasis, Sleeper and Belly. The second half is a super-sized representation of R.E.M.’s setlists at the time.

(Yes, I know the shows with PJ Harvey opening were cancelled, and that the Blur and Oasis shows were probably more like co-headlining. Shut up and enjoy the playlist.)

Listen on Apple Music, Spotify, or Last.fm.

[beyondtheciouds]

.6.

The enchantment was simple enough, or at least Grace had thought it was. "This should be easy to decipher. It's Latin—something Mother taught me before..."

Lucie was skeptical of Grace and her talent with languages, specifically Latin. She squinted at the unfamiliar script in the candlelight, unsure of the writing’s actual origins. "Are you sure?"

Grace rolled her eyes and flipped her moonlight curls over her shoulder. She eyed Lucie with a look that told her they were doing this no matter the consequences. "Are you?"

Of course, Grace had had more practice with the dark arts than Lucie, but Lucie distrusted Grace's genius level. She did not believe the writing was Latin. She wasn’t sure, but she knew it wasn’t the language of ancient Shadowhunters.

Lucie trusted Jesse, however, because he was Jesse.

Not long after Lucie arrived at the Institute from Hell Ruelle, Grace Blackthorn showed up at the door. She had left Matthew to train with her brother in the training room, relieved for a moment of peace that was disturbed by Grace.

Grace had told Bridget she was there so late in the evening to speak with Lucie on a private and urgent matter. The maid had let her in right away and gestured in the general direction of Lucie’s room.

Jesse materialized once in Lucie's bedroom, with her door tightly closed. He explained that Grace would be helpful and that she should trust her, but Lucie was sure the pale princess had her intentions.

"Yes," Lucie said, annoyed at the broken writing. "It's missing too many letters to be Latin. It almost appears demonic."

Jesse glanced at the two girls as they bent their heads together, studying the ancient scripture. He was sitting on the windowsill, his frail ghostly form translucent in the glass. "Et lux perpetua luceat eis," he said, grinning as he wrote it in the fog.

Lucie was the first to look up, her blue eyes clear, shining, and intelligent. "And let perpetual light shine on them."

Jesse smiled, the corners of his mouth dimple as he held back a chuckle.  He looked positively adorable, his green eyes shining. “Grace?"

Grace sighed, but her ears grew hot as her temper rallied. Her grey eyes were steely and cold as they shifted from Jesse to Lucie. Her mouth twitched as she watched her brother with the vaguest of suspicions, her head tilted slightly.  He tried to impress Lucie with his vast knowledge, and now she understood why. Grace was a bit jealous that Jesse was in love with Lucie. "Funny, Jesse."

"I'm only saying that you must start reading between the lines, Grace. You wouldn't be able to get a direct translation without getting a transcription." Jesse said, dragging his hand across the glass of the window. The words did not smudge or wipe away.

Grace frowned, "And where do you propose we find a...a... person to translate and then transcribe an ancient resurrection spell? The moon?"

Lucie snickered, "The moon? Grace? You couldn't think of anything more suitable?"

Grace shoved the scripture into Lucie's hands, clearly upset. "Do you want my help or not?"

Jesse slinked off the windowsill and glided to Lucie's desk, where the girls stood. "Yes," he answered because Lucie was not doing an excellent job holding in her laughter. "We both do."

Grace's anger seemed to melt, and she clenched her hands together, preventing herself from reaching out and hugging the reflection of her brother. "Fine, but I prefer you don't challenge my skills from now on."

Lucie nodded, agreeing, and then let out a high-pitched laugh. She carefully opened the scripture and replaced it on her desk. "All right, deal."

Jesse smirked, a glint of moonlight hitting his eyes. Lucie blinked and studied him for a long moment. She couldn't help but think she could use the description of emeralds to define the intense green of her hero's eyes. Or maybe noir to describe the dark, thick inkiness of his hair.

The moment passed hurriedly like a hurricane, tearing apart all the thoughts inside her head when green clicked in her mind: Matthew. She takes a long breath, blinking, and Grace frowns at her, unamused and worried.

“Lucie, I must go. I’ll be back later. Grace, keep practicing. I know we can get this right.” Jesse's form faded and blurred around the edges, and after a moment, he was gone. Grace gasped, and shivers ran like fingernails down Lucie's spine as the old grandfather clock at the bottom of the stairs clanged twelve times.

Striking midnight.

.7.

Lucie hadn't slept a wink.

Grace had left right after Jesse vanished, and Lucie's nerves had been too frayed to think about sleep. She sat at her desk the entire night, writing down everything she knew about the resurrection spell and studying every line in the two taboo books she had swiped from her brother's collection at the Devil Tavern.  

Creaking noises and disembodied voices plagued her throughout the night and kept her wide awake. She wrote and wrote. Read and read. Still, I need clarification. Nothing seemed possible. Only thoughts of Jesse, his hands around her waist, seemed prevalent.

It was only at the break of the day that she stopped, exhausted and feeling useless. Her binge proved frustrating and fruitless. She was only a nod away from sleeping on the desk.

Lucie had learned nothing new.

So, her mind was preoccupied that afternoon after the maid awoke her for luncheon with her brother and Matthew.   Struggling to stay awake, her eyes drifted shut as she sat at the table. She didn't hear Matthew call her name. "Lucie? Lucie, love. Lucie."

Lucie was seated across from James at the dining table, and Matthew was on his other side. The two boys had similar looks of concern as they leaned over.

Lucie's head was propped up in her hand, and her eyes were slit, red, and heavy with lack of sleep. Her dress was wrinkled, the same one from the previous day, and her light brown hair was airy, pulled hastily up in a bun and clipped with a butterfly barrette. Lucie never looked more amess. "Hmmm?"

Bridget folded the loose table linens nearby; tablecloths and napkins were piled on the counter of the China cabinet, preparing for dinner already. A scowl settled on her freckled, wrinkled face like a permanent fixture as Matthew's hand snaked across the table toward Lucie, and sleepily, she reached forward.

James frowned as Lucie and Matthew's hands snapped back before they reached their mark as if they were a bit. A sigh heaved out of Bridget's apron-clad chest, and she disdainfully shook her head. "Yew was up all-night writing, weren't you, lass? Tsk, tsk."

She sounded more like a grandmother than a maid. Lucie raised her eyes, glancing at the woman who was more of an old nag than anything else to Lucie.

James frowned again and proceeded to flick his peas at her. “Spots?"

Pain brought Lucie to full attention, and she scowled as a string of peas bounced off her forehead. Her blue eyes narrowed at James as she sat up. "What was that for?"

"You're dozing during Bridget’s fine luncheon," James said matter of fact. His eyes were as unreadable as the scripture. Matthew reached for his water glass and shot Lucie a questioning look.

Lucie ignored Matthew. She thoroughly distrusted the curve of James's playful smile as the aftereffect of his antics. "I was not."

The lack of sleep that weighed her down made Lucie sound like a petulant child. She didn't care. She was far too tired.

James rolled his eyes and reached for his teacup as Will entered the dining room. "Luce, you'd be drowning in a pool of drool if it weren't for Matthew. Be grateful that he thought to wake you for lunch since you missed breakfast."

Lucie gripped the fork hard enough for the knuckles on her hand to turn white as she watched her father sit beside her mother. Anxiety filled her. She had to ask her parents about Nate. The snake-like voice had returned, demanding her mother. Lucie smiled cheekily, clearly not meaning the words erupting from her mouth. "My gallant hero."

“Now, Lucie. Be pleasant and nice.” Will muttered, sitting down at the table.

Tessa frowned, noting the sarcastic tone of her daughter's voice. She was still buttering seemingly endless amounts of burnt toast at the head of the square table. "Are you feeling all right, darling? You seem out of sorts this afternoon."

Tessa's attention to Lucie's inattention was clear as day to everyone at the table. It didn't take Kit's strange genius to figure out that something was eating at Lucie.

"Not to mention Luce, I've seen that dress before." Kit thought momentarily, and then a grin lit up his face. "Oh yes, didn't you wear that yesterday at Devil Tavern when you asked Thomas to help you?" Kit piped in from his seat, diagonal from Lucie.

Thomas looked down at his plate, and Lucie wanted to kick Christopher in the shin under the table. James and Tessa shot them all questioning looks. Will picked up the paper and began reading.

Lucie dropped her fork on her plate of uneaten green peas and some meat she could not classify. She slipped her hands into her lap, clenching her fingers. "I suppose I may have," she said, trying to keep some level of decency and composure.

Bridget snickered. "The lass is tired. The night before—or was it the previous one? I don’t know, but I caught this one," she said, putting down the napkin she was folding on the table and jerking her thumb at Matthew. "Sneaking out of Princess's room," she paused and glared at Lucie and Matthew, "in the middle of the night!"

Tessa frowned, setting her knife and a black piece of toast down on her plate. "What's going on?"

Will tried not to look stunned. But his dark blue eyes were full of fury when he put the paper on the table. "Lucie?"

Lucie shrugged, picking up her fork. She leveled her eyes on the table and began aimlessly and absently pushing the mystery meat around on her plate. "Someone has beaten him up," she exclaimed. "He didn't know where to go, so I cared for him. Nothing happened."

That drew Tessa's attention to Matthew, who looked quite appalled. "Is that true? Who beat you up?"

Wills's inky eyebrows furrowed, and his dark gaze landed on Matthew. "Are you...and Lucie...?" Will, despite his best efforts, was speechless for several seconds. "Do you plan on courting my daughter, Matthew Fairchild?"

Lucie smiled, not particularly paying attention to the conversation. She had drifted off in her mind again. Happy she had successfully transferred the attention to Matthew, she let herself daydream. What else do I need for the spell? Lucie thought. Eye of newt…

Matthew Fairchild was caught off guard for the first time in his life. His green eyes were wide, like a doe. If he said no, he would need an explanation for being in her room, beaten to a pulp. If he said yes, he knew he might get away with just a lecture instead of a reprimanding from Will.

Matthew nodded and inconspicuously glanced at Lucie.

Now it was James's turn to look appalled.

.8.

Lucie's eyebrows entered her hairline, and her hand went to her temple. Her temper was ready to flare as fire. Her head ached. Matthew Fairchild was an idiot who just single-handedly complicated her existence. "Why did you say that? Why would you think such a thing would be all right to say?”

The sky was dark, and the night was too cold for early autumn. Winter had whisked her way into London on the coattails of her brother. Thick, dark clouds loomed overhead, a little reminder that September will soon become December. Lucie needed to get home. She needed to speak with Jessamine and Jesse about the spell. It was getting late.

A sideways glance out the window told her it wouldn't be possible to make it home. Her carriage driver had already trotted off to the stables near the flat, the horses warm within the walls. The wind blew sideways and howled like a wolf as the snow hurricane drifted over. Large flakes of ice and snow rained down from the heavens. This was the second snowy night of the season, and Lucie wondered how damaging the winter would be.

Heavy snow was already falling on the horizon; the roads were blocked further downtown. Lucie couldn't shake the odd feeling that it wasn't a coincidence she was here---with Matthew, alone in his brand-new flat.  She had unwillingly escorted him home, intending to head somewhere else after.

Matthew hummed, watching the smoke curl and float up the chimney. “Why not? We’ve now slept together three times. Shouldn’t we be something by now?”

Lucie couldn't think straight, and her fingers brushed the cool fabric of his bottle's fine green waistcoat. Her hand lingered, remembering a heated moment that felt centuries ago. She could never take back that exemplary moment that led to an awful moment. She still felt her indifference towards him at the core of her soul. The coat was draped over the back of the matching velvet chair she was sitting in, and she touched it one more time before defiantly crossing her arms over her chest. “It is not true for starters. Secondly, why do we need a label? I thought your whole mantra was against labels. Oscar Wilde.”

Matthew's back was to her, but she knew his shirt was halfway undone; the bare skin underneath was still tan and toned from the summer sun. She could feel it under her hands when she closed her eyes. His green eyes had been glassed over, and his sunshine hair stuck up in the back from hours of dozing in the chair at the Institute as he was getting lectured by her father.

Matthew knelt before the fireplace, stoking the many burning logs with a metal poker. His rings glittered in the firelight. He didn't turn around when he replied, "I didn't know what to say except that I felt we should be a couple."

"I still don't," Lucie retorted and stood up. She frowned, slumping her shoulders. “I didn’t mean it like that.” But she had.

Matthew sighed and set the poker back in the corner rack. "I know what you think of me," he said, his voice suddenly small.

"Oh, and what is that?" Lucie asked. She moved until she was directly behind him. She could smell the intoxicating scent of fire on him and feel the heat of the intense flame on her skin. It drove her wild.

Matthew stood up and slowly turned around. His expression was unreadable, like illegible penmanship. Lucie stared at his face, picking out the emotions drifting in and out of his eyes like the tide.

"You think I'm a fool," he said. His face was inches from hers, and this close, she could inhale the gin in his hot breath and see the slips of honey and amber in his irises.

.9.

Lucie blinked and sucked in a breath; the electricity between them was overwhelming. She swallowed the little saliva coating her mouth. Sweat dripped down the side of her face, salty like tears. "We shouldn't," she whispered. She held her breath and heard Matthew catch his as his hand reached out, calloused fingers cupping her chin, and he leaned towards her.

Lucie lifted her hands, placing them on his chest. She locked her eyes on his as her fingertips fled the safety of his shirt and treaded his soft skin. She could feel his heart thumping like wild horses under her palms. Knowing that she could have this effect on Matthew made her mad with desire for him.

The silver of his rings glinted in the firelight, and Lucie exhaled slowly, thinking, here we go.

She closed her eyes as his lips touched hers, and the world as she knew it faded. His kiss was soft and tender. It was nothing like she had expected and everything she'd imagined.  The kiss was the same as it had always been: intoxicating, breathless. Souls aligning.

His hands had moved, and his fingers trailed down her neck, lingering on the gold chain.

Matthew broke the kiss abruptly and stepped back. He swallowed hard, his eyes on the locket hanging around Lucie's neck.

Jesse's locket.

When Lucie opened her eyes, she saw that hurt and confusion flooded his summer-dazed features. "Math?"

His nickname on her lips broke him down, and he gritted his teeth. He felt stupid and betrayed. It hadn't escaped him that the design was of thorns. "Why are you wearing that locket?"

.10.

Lucie sucked in a breath; the nausea was like a tidal wave washing over her. Jessamine stood in the corner of the room watching. She didn't look pleased.

"Drink," Grace urged, shoving the cracked mug under Lucie's nose for the fifth and final time. "Drink, or you'll dehydrate your powers."

Lucie's dull blue eyes glanced into the mug skeptically. The murky liquid was green, swirled with terrible-smelling herbs and spices- items Grace had said were on the spell list.

The rottenness of it made Lucie's stomach queasy, and she had to look away. She turned her face away like a stubborn child. "No."

Grace sighed, sitting back on her heels. She had promised Jesse they would try harder. Time was running out. "Lucie. Please don't be difficult."

"Difficult?" Lucie forced a laugh, glancing at her reflection in her vanity mirror. She looked tired. Bags were under her eyes, but at least she was in a clean dress and had neat hair. "I will be difficult and won't drink that putrid concoction."

Grace sighed, setting the mug on Lucie's nightstand. She sat on the bed as if she and Lucie had been friends forever. "We should go to Magnus with the scripture."

Lucie raised an eyebrow, wondering how brilliant Grace was. "He won't help us. The language is ancient, possibly demonic. I guarantee he won't want anything to do with it."

Grace said nothing for a long moment as she eyed the mug. "You know for certain?"

The sunlight streamed through the enormous windows, and Lucie wondered how much longer she would have to deal with Grace today. All she had wanted to do since she woke was to go back to bed. Bone tired, drained from the last few hours of drinking mysterious concoctions, Lucie had enough.

"Not one hundred percent," Lucie began, unsure how she would finish her sentence. With Magnus, one never knew. “But I know he will have questions we don’t have answers for.”

There was always that slight chance.

The truth was that her heart was still reeling, tugging her like she was caught on the end of Matthew's line. She was breathless and flapping excuses in the sun like a fish. Confused and upset more at Matthew than herself, Lucie needed to be alone. It had been a week since she was at Matthew’s flat overnight.

 Things had gotten out of hand, and she had ended up with him in his bed again. Annoyed, Lucie now crossed her arms over her chest, eyeing Grace. "I know that if we go to him, he might expose our necromancy to the Clave. We can't have that with you marrying the future Consul."

Grace smiled harshly, "Or with you consorting with the Consul's rebellious son."

A knock at the door disrupted their argument, and Lucie silently promised to find out what Grace knew. What Charles had told her about Matthew.

Lucie shoved the scripture under several manuscripts on her desk as James opened her door and stepped into Lucie's bedroom without an invitation. “Uhm, hello?”

Behind him, Matthew lingered in the hall. First, his eyes were on the floor, and his hands were stuck in the pockets of his expensive jacket. His cheeks were flushed, his lips parted. He turned his head slightly, and he looked directly at her. Lucie wanted to hurl.

"Lucie! I hope you're decent--Mam wants us to get ready to go--" James stopped short, spying on Grace. "What are you doing--"

James was cut off by Lucie, who avoided glancing into the hall. "Grace was just leaving."

[anastpaul]

One Minute Reflection – 6 March – Our Precious Pearl

One Minute Reflection – 6 March – “The Month of the St Joseph” – Sts Perpetua and Felicity (Died c203) Martyrs – Ecclesiasticus Sirach 51:13-17, Matthew 13:44-52 – Scripture search here: https://www.drbo.org/ “Again, the Kingdom of Heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls. When he finds a single pearl of great price, he goes and sells all that he has and buys it.” – Matthew…

[berezina]

for an artist to age gracefully, they need to offer listeners a perspective that could never have come from their younger selves.

~Matthew Perpetua [source]

[asesinosseriales]

El Payaso Asesino -John Wayne Gacy

John Wayne Gacy parecía ser un hombre ejemplar. Tenía su propio negocio, participaba en la vida política de su estado y dedicaba sus ratos libres a entretener a los niños de su comunidad disfrazado de payaso. Sin embargo, el hombre detrás del maquillaje de “Pogo” –como se hacía llamar– estaba lejos de ser ordinario, mucho menos ejemplar.

Eso quedó al descubierto en diciembre de 1978, cuando se entregó a la policía y confesó haber violado, asesinado y enterrado en su patio trasero a 33 hombres entre 1972 y 1978. El caso causó conmoción en la sociedad estadounidense, aterrorizada al enterarse que un hombre como John Wayne Gacy podía esconder tantos crímenes. Esta es su historia.

Nacido el 17 de marzo de 1942, tuvo una infancia complicada marcada por el bullying y el abuso. Mientras crecía como un muchacho obeso, amanerado y reprimido, “Johnny” era una de las grandes víctimas de su padre, un hombre alcohólico que también agredía físicamente a su madre.

Después de ser abusado sexualmente por un amigo de la familia a los 9 años y sufrir una conmoción cerebral que lo afectaría durante toda la adolescencia, Gacy avanzó sin un rumbo fijo en la vida.

El 10 de mayo de 1968, fue detenido y acusado de violar a un joven de 16 años el verano anterior. Tras un rápido juicio, el hombre fue sentenciado a 10 años. Sin embargo, salió solo 18 meses después por buen comportamiento. En 1971, Gacy se mudó a Illinois, donde no solo mantuvo su condena en secreto, también pudo iniciar una nueva vida. Una en donde era considerado un hombre destacado.

A su llegada a Illinois, Gacy inició un negocio de construcción, se casó con una de las amigas de su hermana mayor, se registró como voluntario del Partido Demócrata –lo que le permitió conocer a la primera dama Rosalynn Carter– y comenzó a disfrazarse del payaso Pogo como un favor para “pagar todo lo que le había dado la sociedad”. Era una historia perfecta. Después de años de ser relegado por todos, John Wayne Gacy al fin era querido y apreciado por propios y extraños.

Casi una década después, en 1977, la fachada perfecta de Gacy se derrumbó lentamente. Ese año, un joven de 28 años reportó a la policía que el empresario había sido muy insistente con sus intenciones de llevarlo a su casa. Cuando un adolescente de 15 años desapareció en diciembre del año siguiente, las sospechas recayeron en Gacy. Agobiado por el seguimiento policiaco, el “payaso” confesó a sus abogados que él era el responsable del secuestro del chico. También juró haber asesinado a más de una treintena de personas en la última década, todos hombres de entre 15 y 21 años de edad.

Según sus palabras, su primera víctima fue un muchacho al que torturó y apuñaló la noche de año nuevo de 1972. A este le siguieron Timothy, John, Mike, Darrell, Randall, Samuel, Michael, Billy, James, Rick, Marino, Kenneth, William, Frances, Gregory, John, Jon, Matthew, Robert, John, Russell, Robert, Tommy, David, Robert, William, Timothy, Dale y James. Robert, su última víctima, fue asesinada el 12 de diciembre de 1978.

El 13 de marzo de 1980, John Wayne Gacy fue sentenciado a Cadena perpetua por 21 cargos de asesinato y Pena de muerte por 12 cargos. Cuatro años después, el 10 de mayo, el “payaso asesino” recibió la inyección letal. Sus últimas palabras fueron: “Matarme no regresará a ninguna de las víctimas. El Estado me está asesinando. ¡Nunca sabrán dónde están los otros!“.

[seekfirst-community]

Feast of Saints Perpetua and Felicity. 

"Jesus spoke to the crowds and to his disciples, saying, 



“The scribes and the Pharisees have taken their seat on the chair of Moses. Therefore, do and observe all things whatsoever they tell you, but do not follow their example. 

"For they preach but they do not practice. They tie up heavy burdens hard to carry and lay them on people’s shoulders, but they will not lift a finger to move them. All their works are performed to be seen. 



"They widen their phylacteries and lengthen their tassels. 

"They love places of honor at banquets, seats of honor in synagogues, greetings in marketplaces, and the salutation ‘Rabbi.’ 

"As for you, do not be called ‘Rabbi.’ You have but one teacher, and you are all brothers. Call no one on earth your father; you have but one Father in heaven. 

"Do not be called ‘Master’; you have but one master, the Christ. 



"The greatest among you must be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.” (Matthew 23: 1 - 12).

Jesus affirms the Teaching Authority of the Magisterium of the Catholic Church:

"Therefore, do and observe all things whatsoever they tell you, but do not follow their example."

Do you see where Martin Luther and other so-called Reformers in the 16th century went into error? 

Jesus also affirms a different type of authority in the Church:

"The greatest among you must be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.” 

These groups are called Saints or Charismatics. They lead by quiet example. Our saints of today, Perpetua and Felicity belong to this group. 



Be pleased to work your sanctification within us O Lord by means of the Lenten observance of Prayer, Fasting and Almsgiving. Amen. 

Daily Bible Verse @ SeekFirstcommunity.com