#overcomplicating my work for the vine

[virigorne]

4 pages finisbed but I'm only...at shot 6.....of 22...

[astarab1aze]

❝ would you come with me please? i adore your company. ❞ ig/vayn

"But of course! I'd be delighted, dear," Vayn all but purred, rolling up his sleeves if only so he could wash his hands in the basin. Strange, to have an officer of any law in his home, let alone his sunroom where all his little trees and flowerpots and vines grew with care; But he supposed it was fine from the start, Ignis was no danger to him -or so he thought- and, more to the point, it wasn't as if he'd gone after Loux or Sortia (however, perhaps, deserving), and Vayn would never have believed it if anyone told him he was in league with any vampires. At the very least, not the Red Hand. Still, a familiar face, having seen or bumped into him on some occasions - he and his companions tended to move around quite a bit, and it was only natural that those who go bump in the night find each other, be they devil or vampire, living or dead.

And what a smile there was on his face, when he welcomed him in. He was calm and quiet company, none-too boisterous as Loux nor particularly nosy - a few glances here and there at ancient pottery, a coffin, and shelves upon shelves of alchemical ingrediants hardly constituted as such. Inobtrusive, and perhaps the vampire was a mite too aware of how tall he was, how -if he were honest- impressive his build; A long shadow down a short corridor, and no less crimson. Of course, Vayn didn't want to overcomplicate things for himself, so he shuffled all the momentarily unnecessary thoughts away, working the gravedirt out from underneath his fingernails - his own, he would assure Ignis, if needed; Gravedirt made for a good addition to his potting soil mixes (his climbing flower vines seemed to really like it when he added a bit of Loux's volcanic ash to it), but, insodoing, he was perhaps anchored to this place now. He wondered if he'd ever get out, offhandedly.

Ah, but isn't that what Ignis was extending to him? An invitation out? Cold fingers shook the water from his hands, drying them on his otherwise mostly clean apron - it occurred to him that he might've been a bit lost in thought, recalling the hows and whys and little things in between, and not exactly giving Ignis the attention he deserved. So with his hands thoroughly dried, he moved away from the basin and toward the officer, blowing a few strands of silver out of his eyes.

"Give me just a few moments to get changed, won't you? I don't want to be a mess, and I certainly don't want to get you messy," he said, gently settling a palm on Ignis' arm in passing. "Maybe, if we're lucky, we might find something stimulating to do while we're out - perhaps a puzzle or two? Would that interest you? I'm game, if you are, my dear."

And he scuttled out of his sunroom so fashioned after a greenhouse, stepping out of his apron and leaving it by the door. He would be quick, or so he promised, and before much longer - they would be on their way.

[dweemeister]

The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T (1953)

Theodore Geisel, better known as Dr. Seuss, remains best-known for his children’s books. The Cat in the Hat; Green Eggs and Ham; and Oh, the Places You’ll Go! are household names in English-language literature. Seuss’ bibliography overshadows his work in films, beginning with the adapted screenplay of his own book, The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins (1943) – directed by George Pal as part of the Puppetoons series. During WWII, Seuss was heavily involved in propaganda films and the Private Snafu (1943-1946) military training films. After the war’s end, Seuss returned to writing children’s books, but also continued to write for movies. The Academy Award-winning animated short film Gerald McBoing-Boing (1950) benefitted from Seuss’ story work, and Seuss’ success there inspired him to write a screenplay for a live-action fantasy film. That screenplay – the unwieldy rough draft coming in at over 1,200 pages – was The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T. The eventual movie, produced by Stanley Kramer (1960’s Inherit the Wind, 1961’s Judgment at Nuremberg) and directed by Roy Rowland (1945’s Our Vines Have Tender Grapes, 1956’s Meet Me in Las Vegas) for Columbia Pictures, would be Seuss’ only involvement in a non-documentary feature film.

Like many who speak English as their first language, Dr. Seuss’ books graced my early childhood. So integral to numerous children’s youth is Seuss that his whimsy, wordplay, and authorial stamps are easily recognizable. In that spirit, the cinematic record of live-action Seuss adaptations consists of the scatological Jim Carrey in How the Grinch Stole Christmas (2000) and the visual nightmare that is Mike Myers as The Cat in the Hat (2003). Compared to the original works, both films are ungainly, casually cruel, and overcomplicated. Not promising company for Dr. T. But even taking into account the three animated feature adaptations of Seuss – Horton Hears a Who! (2008), The Lorax (2012), and The Grinch (2018) – and the fact that Columbia forced wholesale deletions from the rough draft script of Dr. T to achieve a feasible runtime, The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T is arguably the most faithful feature adaptation to Dr. Seuss’ authorial intent and signature aesthetic.

In other words, this is one of the strangest films you may ever encounter. No synopsis I could write in one paragraph will ever capture the film’s bizarreries.

Little Bart Collins (Tommy Rettig) is asleep during piano practice and his teacher, Dr. Terwilliker (Hans Conried), is furious. His overworked, widowed mother Heloise (Mary Healey) intuits Terwilliker’s unrealistic expectations (Terwilliker wants to teach the next Paderewski) towards Bart’s piano skills and inability to concentrate. Heloise also appears to be quietly eyeing the plumber August Zabladowski (Peter Lind Hayes) and his wrench. With the lesson done for the day, Bart falls asleep again. This time, he dreams that Terwilliker is now the leader of the Terwilliker Institute, a pianist supremacy mini-state which is built upon five hundred young pianist slave boys (hence, 5,000 fingers) forcibly playing Terwilliker’s latest compositions. His mother is Terwilliker’s unwilling, hypnotized assistant and plumber August Zabladowski (Hayes is essentially playing the same character, but in a different world) is Bart’s only ally around. Together, Bart and Mr. Zabladowski must evade the Institute’s guards as they attempt to undermine Terwilliker’s plans for his next concert.

In its final form, The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T is a muddled mess of a story. The analogues between Bart’s reality and his dreams are inconsistent, several would-be subplots never resolve (or at the very least develop beyond a basic idea), and the film’s initial lightness is subject to rapid mood swings that make this picture feel disjointed. Indeed, Seuss’ sprawling social commentary in his first draft – including allegories and themes of post-WWII totalitarianism, anti-communism, and atomic annihilation – is in tatters in this final product. The viewer will witness brief fragments of those ideas, remaining in this movie as the barest of hints of the contents of the original screenplay’s rough draft. Even now, Dr. T inspires psychiatric analyses and accusations that Bart’s relationship with his mother reveals signs of an Oedipal complex (to yours truly, the latter is too much of a reach). The grim nature of Terwilliker Institute renders Dr. T unsuitable for the youngest children. For older children and adults, try going into this movie without expectations of narrative logic and embrace the grotesque aspects that only Seuss could imagine.

If my attempts to describe this movie’s preposterousness through its narrative and screenwriting approach have failed, perhaps I can capture that for you by writing on its technical features.

For its sheer narrative inventiveness – inconsistencies, abrupt tonal shifts, nonsense, and Rowland’s uninspired direction aside – The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T is nevertheless an ambitious film, and Columbia bequeathed a hefty budget to match that ambition. Much of that budget went to the film’s visuals. This is an extravagantly-staged motion picture, as nothing could do Dr. Seuss’ illustrations justice without fully committing to his geometric impossibilities: skyward ladders and improbable connections between rooms, an eschewal of right angles and straight lines, and architecture bound to raise the ire of physics teachers. One could compare this to German Expressionism, but Dr. T’s sets tend not to dictate the film’s mood nor are they subject to high-contrast lighting. Seuss went uncredited as the concept artist on Dr. T, and it was up to Clem Beauchamp (1935’s The Lives of a Bengal Lancer, 1952’s High Noon) and the uncredited matte artists to commit those visuals to the real world. Outside of animated film, Beauchamp and the matte artists succeed in creating twisted sets that seem to leap off the pages of Seuss’ most artistically interesting books. Some of the sets appear too stagebound, but the production design accomplishes its need to resemble a world borne from a fever dream (or, at least, a young pianist’s nightmare).

This movie’s outrageous costume design (other than Jean Louis’ gowns for Mary Healey, the costume designer/s for this film are uncredited) comprises absurd uniforms and two of the most ludicrous hats – the “happy fingers” cap (see photo at the top of this write-up) and whatever the hell Terwilliker dons in the film’s climax – one might ever see in a film. Most of the costumes are laughably impractical and ridiculous to even those without fashion sense. In what might be the tamest example, while working under Terwilliker, Bart’s mother wears a suit that is all business formal on the left-hand side and bare-shouldered, sleeveless, and nightclub-y on the right. The delineation of real life – which barely features in the film’s eighty-nine minutes – and this world of Bart’s dreams could not be any more unambiguous thanks to the combination of the production and costume design work.

The disappointing musical score by Fredrich Hollaender (1930’s The Blue Angel, 1948’s A Foreign Affair) and song lyrics by Seuss rarely connects to the larger narrative unfolding. Seven songs make the final print, with nine (yikes!) Hollaender-Seuss songs ending up on the cutting room floor. Seuss’ wordplay is evident, as are Hollaender’s melodic flourishes. Columbia, a studio not known for its musicals, assembled a 98-piece orchestra – the largest musical ensemble to work on a Columbia film at the time – for The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T alone. That lush sound is apparent throughout for the numerous nonsense songs that color the score in addition to the incidental score. It is unusual to listen to a collection of novelty songs orchestrated so fully. Listen to “Dressing Song: Do-Mi-Do Duds” and its complicated, seeming unsingable lines:

Come on and dress me, dress me, dress me In my peek-a-boo blouse With the lovely inner lining made of Chesapeake mouse! I want my polka-dotted dickie with the crinoline fringe For I'm going doe-me-doe-ing on a doe-me-doe binge!

The rich orchestration seems to hail from a more lavish film. But too many of these songs are scene-specific, and rarely does Hollaender utilize musical quotations from these songs into his score. “Get Together Weather” is delightful, but it seems so isolated from the rest of the film; elsewhere, “The Dungeon Song” exemplifies a macabre side to Seuss seldom appearing in his books. Nevertheless, Hollaender is able to demonstrate his playfulness across the entire film, none moreso during any scene with the bearded, roller-skating twins and the “Dungeon Ballet”, in which the music complements stunning choreography and fascinating props that recall the jingtinglers, floofloovers, tartookas, whohoopers, slooslunkas, and whowonkas from the Christmas television special How the Grinch Stole Christmas! (1966). Yet, Hollaender’s film score and the soundtrack with Seuss seems to demand something – anything – to tie the entire compositional effort together. Perhaps a song or some cue like that was cut from the film, which is ultimately to its detriment.

Hans Conried (who starred as Captain Hook in Disney’s Peter Pan several months prior to Dr. T’s release) stands out from a decidedly average Peter Lind Hayes and Mary Healey – Hayes and Healey, in a sort of in-joke, were married. Conried’s performance as the sadistic, torture- and imprisonment-happy music teacher can be considered camp, but this is anything but “bad” camp. He throws himself completely into this cartoonish role, sans shame, complete with mid-Atlantic accent, and topped off with exaggerated facial and physical acting that fits this fantasy. As Bart, child actor Tommy Rettig (best known as Jeff Miller on the CBS television series Lassie) seems more assured in his performance than most child performers his age during the 1950s. His fourth wall-breaking asides seem more appropriate in a Bugs Bunny cartoon, but Rettig makes it work, and inhabits Bart’s flaws wonderfully.

Columbia demanded numerous reworkings of Seuss’ script, leading to several reshoots – most notably the opening scene (Seuss opposed the conceit of Bart’s dream framing the film) – and a ballooning budget. Upon its release in the summer of 1953, The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T bombed at the box office and was assailed by critics. A crestfallen Seuss, who could not stand the production difficulties that beset the film from the start of shooting, would never work in feature films again. He would dedicate himself almost entirely to writing and illustrating children’s books, with many of his most popular titles (including The Cat in the Hat, One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish, and Green Eggs and Ham) published within a decade of Dr. T’s critical and commercial failure. His hesitance to participate in filmmaking informed his reluctance to allow Chuck Jones to adapt How the Grinch Stole Christmas! thirteen years later. Animation suited his books, Seuss thought, and he would never again pay any consideration to live-action filmmaking.

The reevaluation of The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T has seen a rehabilitation of the film’s image in recent decades. Home media releases and television showings have introduced the film to viewers not influenced by the hyperbolic negativity of the film critics working in 1953. This is not a sterling example of Old Hollywood fantasy filmmaking, due to a heavily gutted screenplay, scattershot thematic development, and incongruent musical score. Yet, the movie’s surrealistic charms and Seussian chaos know no peers, even in the present day.

My rating: 7/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

[a-detraque-barista]

Our Haunted House

Title: Our Haunted House

Rating: M

Word Count: 5.4k

Genre: yandere, horror, smut

Warnings: cursing, yandere behaviors, mention of blood, tentacle fucking, buckets of cum, biting, marking, possessiveness, unprotected sex

Summary: On your first trip back to the Halloween Fest you ran into a quiet but attractive man. Once you get separated from your friends he can’t keep himself from touching you.

A/N: HAPPY SPOOKS DAY EVERYONE!!!! A perfect rainy day (not for trick or treaters) for Halloween and to stay home and have a  Halloween Movie Marathon while eating candy and other junk food. Anyway, this is my very first smut and I hope you all like it. I also entered this in @bang-tan-bitches​ writing challenge, Monster Mash. So go check out all the other amazing stories posted in the challenge and show them some love and now on with tentacley Jimin  💜 💜 💜

    The music box played alone on the stage. It reminded you of carnival music but there was a dark undertone to it. You were only twelve and your father decided to bring you to the annual Halloween Fest. You never got scared when someone jumped out in front of you. For some reason, you have never felt fear. Nothing ever frightened you like other people. 

Your mother had voiced her concerns on more than one occasion. Calling you a freak, a monster, even going as far as a demon. She doesn’t speak to you anymore. Ignoring your existence and spending her time drinking wine and watching trash television. 

The stage you sat a few rows away from had gone completely dark before a clown was in the spotlight. His makeup was done terribly. His lips were painted black which was peeling and the white paint on his face was cracking. As he smiled widely you could clearly see black smudges on his yellow teeth.

“Hello ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls!! I am your host for this evening! And tonight I welcome you to The Clowning. I did not come up with the name by the way,” he spat as he spoke with a fake speech impediment. “And now I present to you, Stabby the Prankster.”

Your father’s eyebrow raised, just as many other parents at the name. Then a clown wearing all red and black popped out from behind the curtain. A laugh similar to Woody the Woodpecker reached your ears. And just as his name entailed, he had knives in both hands. His makeup was just as terrible as the first. Instead, his eyes had red circles and his cheeks had red spots on top of the cracking white paint. 

He jumped down from the stage and in front of the first row viewers. His bulging eyes looked from left to right before lunging straight ahead and swiftly slit the young boy’s throat.

Screaming followed as people began to rush towards the exit. Your father picked you up and began to run with you tightly in his arms. Pushing his way through, he got to just outside the door before stopping dead in his tracks. Everyone around the two of you gasped as they saw the dagger sticking out of his back. 

Your father looked down at you and smiled weakly before dropping to his knees and before he could fall forward onto you, a family friend hoisted you onto her hip. She ran with you as you looked back to your now-dead father lying on the floor. 

The clown that had thrown the knife had made his way to your dad’s body and locked gazes with you. His smile was gone and he was no longer slashing townspeople one by one. He seemed as if he was worried about something.

The clown that had claimed to be the host grabbed Stabby by the neck and threw him back into the auditorium before disappearing behind the doors himself. 

“It’s going to be okay sweetie. They can’t hurt you. There’s nothing you have to worry about,” the woman carrying you said softly as you began to cry. Your father was the only one that cared about you. And you were old enough to know that.

It’s been around a decade since then. You moved out of your mother’s house into your own. You finally had your own space. Your mother didn’t talk to you much after what happened. Only a few words every couple of weeks.

As you grew older, nobody realized your dad was one of the victims. Which led you to make friends. Your best friends were Jennie and Mark, they even wanted to be your roommates. You may not live alone but you still consider this your own space, compared to your mom’s house. 

You laid in your bed as you played on your phone. It was already four in the morning, but you couldn’t sleep. Nothing worked. Listening to classical music, drinking some of Jennie’s chamomile tea, tossing and turning. Now you stared at your white ceiling thinking of other ways to fall asleep. 

Halloween is coming up and you had to think of ways to decorate the house. No wonder why you can’t sleep, your mind always wanders off. Still, you think about all the decorations you have in storage in the attic and think of new ones you could buy. 

As you zone out you see something in the corner of your eye. Quickly looking to the side, you see nothing but your closed closet door and look back up at the ceiling to see swirling patterns begin to slither across. They were navy blue mixed with graphite grey. They were like vines twisting and curling around each other. Your eyebrows furrowed as the vine-like tendrils became bigger like they were getting closer. You feel the smooth tip of the reaching blue vine graze your nose. You attempt to sink further into the bed but as you run out of space the tendril still follows and moves to the side to comfortingly caress the side of your face. It was gentle and you could feel your eyelids becoming heavier. 

Trying to fight it, you struggle to keep your eyes open. Even attempting to hit it away with your hand but another tendril grabbed your wrist, with the utmost care. It laid your hand back down softly as if it didn’t want to cause you any pain, even a little. 

Your eyes were closed by the time the most soothing voice you’ve ever heard say, “You have all the power over me.”

Mark jumping onto your bed while Jennie made an alarm go off on her phone was what woke you up. Mark began to shake you violently as he laughed, “It’s one in the afternoon, lazy ass. Get up.”

You weren’t able to say anything until he finished shaking you. Even then you didn’t say anything and just groaned. Mark and Jennie both started to jump on the bed and stopped abruptly to hear what you had to say.

“Fuck you,” you swiped your leg into theirs to make them fall. Jennie landed on her back on the bed and Mark landed on the floor. 

“So mean,” Mark grumbled from the floor. You sat up and leaned on your elbow to give him a blank look when he popped his head up. 

“So annoying.”

Mark laid back down on the floor to sulk while Jennie turned to you, “Wanna go to the Halloween Fest with us? I know you never go but it’ll be fun.” 

You got up and walked to your bathroom connected to your room, closing the door behind you. You never told them about your father being one of the victims during what they called, Hallow’s Eve Massacre. You had always thought it was a dull name. Created by none other than the group of moms that have nothing better to do than to drink overcomplicated coffee that was too expensive for their small sizes and get into other people’s business like it’s their own.

Standing at the sink you thought about the pros and cons of going. Pros. Delicious seasonal foods, haunted houses, everything scary you love, and getting out of the house with your two best friends.

Cons. Paranoia, especially of clowns and stages, people you don’t like to even be within a ten-mile radius, and going outside.

You supposed the pros outweigh the cons. Who knows, it could be fun.

You regret your decision the moment you walked through the admission stands. Looking around you saw many clowns. Or were they your former classmates? It was hard to tell. None of these-

“Ow!” Landing on your ass you ended up dropping your coffee.

“I’m so sorry! Are you alright?” The man who bumped into you kneeled down to make sure you were okay. You felt like you've seen his face before but couldn't really pinpoint where you've seen him.

"Yeah-yeah. I'm fine," you felt him begin to pull you up by your arms to stand up directly in front of him. “Are you okay? I mean I ran into you-”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good,” you stood there awkwardly and watched as his hand soothingly rubbed your forearms. It felt comforting. His hands were warm and it seeped through your jacket and into your skin. 

“Jennie, I think we’re interrupting something,” Mark joked as he leaned into Jennie’s side like he was whispering to her but spoke in a normal, almost loud voice.

Your face gained a red hue as you stepped away from the man who tried to look into your very soul, “Sorry again. I’ll try to pay more attention.” You stared at the ground and began to quickly walk away from the man.

“Please don’t. I’d love to run into you again sometime,” he called out before turning the other way and continued his path to wherever he was going. You kept walking with Jennie and Mark until you arrived at the part of the fairgrounds where they had all the rides. 

First, you rode the Twirling Tangerines, inside the large oranges there was a wheel you could all turn. Then, you rode the Spider, where you sat in a cart-like box that spun as the arms lifted you up and down.

You were on your way to the haunted house when you turned to Mark, “I think I just saw-” Noticing he’s not with you, you look around the crowd to try and spot him. “Jennie, where’d Mark go?”

She turned to you and looked around as well, “How the hell could we lose him?” She took out her phone from her pocket and clicked on his contact to call him. He didn’t answer.

“We’ll have to split up and look for him,” you shrugged as you headed toward back the way you came and Jennie veering left from the way you were going.

It took almost half an hour before you get a call from Jennie, telling you she found him. She failed to mention the man that Mark had crossed paths with on his adventure. 

You met them at one of the tents where they had a rigged game for people to play as stuffed animals hung from the top. You may or may not have stopped at the apple cider stand on your way to the game tent.

“Woooooow. You didn’t get us any?” Mark was obviously hurt but you didn’t really care. “You shouldn’t have wandered off like you did cause then we’d both have apple cider right now,” you took a sip of your hot drink while looking at him.

Your eyes shift to the man who you had bumped into earlier. You began to cough up the warm beverage that was trying to intrude into your lungs from your sharp intake of breath. Coughing into your sleeve, you tried to breathe again before asking, “What are you doing here?”

“Mark ran into me while I was heading toward the Baker’s Street and he was looking somewhere else,” his smile was so big it made his eyes turned into crescent moons. It almost made you want to smile. He walked closer to you before reaching out his hand to you, “My name’s Jimin. What’s yours?”

You stood there wide-eyed and shocked before snapping out of it and taking his hand. Maybe a bit too eagerly, “Y/n.” You took your hand back and turned to Mark and Jennie, “Ready for the haunted house?”

Mark groaned and Jennie gave an unconvincing “yeah” as she kind of curled into herself. You lead the way and never turned to look if Jimin had ended up following you or went ventured off somewhere else. 

You didn’t really know what to do with guys. Keeping to yourself you never really talked to people. Especially guys so it was kind of new and weird for you to speak with such an attractive guy that wasn’t a close friend like Mark. 

Walking up to the house you showed the wristband you got at the admissions booth to allow you to go in. 

"I'm sorry sir. If you don't have a wristband then I can't let you in," the woman at the entrance practically spat the person she was talking to.

You turned around to see her speaking to Jimin and felt kind of annoyed by how she spoke to him. She didn’t really have any reason to be so rude, that you knew of. “He did have one, I saw it on his wrist a few minutes ago,” you don't know why you were vouching for this guy. You just felt like it, you guessed.

The lady reluctantly nodded him through with a sneer. He smiled politely towards her before joining your group into the dark foyer.

As a dressed up ghoul jumped out in front of you and Jimin, you did nothing but stare blankly at the man while Mark yelped and Jennie gasped. How Jimin ended up next to you, you didn't know. 

Jimin noticed how the jump scare didn't frighten you. He found it intriguing, in fact. You didn’t even bat an eyelid. 

“Where’s Mark?” Jimin’s head snapped to you as you looked around for your not-so-bright friend once again. Jimin began to look around with you.

“You must be fucking kidding me,” Jennie sighed before saying, “I’ll go look for him so he doesn’t make any weird friends in here.”

Leaving you and Jimin alone, you kept walking through the hallways and up the staircase. Many people attempted to scare you but none of them succeeded. And Jimin tried not to laugh at your reaction to their attempts. It’s not that he was making fun of you. He was just amused how much effort the actors put into being frightening and all they get is your eyebrow raised at most. 

You felt Jimin take your hand gently and slowly tighten his grip into a comfortable hold, “I’m scared.” 

Immediately, you could tell he wasn’t scared at all. He just wanted a reason to hold your hand like he was smooth. But you didn’t really have the heart to take your hand away. And you didn’t really want to. You felt him come closer to you bit by bit until your shoulders were rubbing against each other.

“You wouldn’t mind if I held you would you?” Jimin broke the eerie silence that sat between you two.

“Why do you want to?” you found the question odd but weren’t completely opposed to it. You weren’t a hoe but he just made you feel comfortable. 

“Cause I want to get closer to you.”

“But you’re already close to me,” you smiled. “I suppose.”

He reciprocated your smile and let go of your hand to wrap around your shoulders. He tugged you closer so you were tucked into his side. The warmth from his body kept you from shivering because of the freezing temperatures inside the building. 

Seeing a door crack open not far down the hallway, you expected someone to jump out of the room. Getting close enough to look into the bedroom, no one jumped out. Jimin noticed your interest in the room and peeked inside with you. The only thing in the room was a wardrobe, a desk, a king-sized bed, and a mirror hanging in front of the desk. All were caked with dust. 

“Must be an extra room they decided not to use,” you concluded before you took a glance at Jimin, only to meet his eyes. You quickly looked away and awkwardly scanned the room.

All you heard were his footsteps before feeling his grip your arm to turn you towards him, “Keep your eyes on me.” 

Your cheeks felt like the sun had been shining on them for hours. And as he demanded, you kept your eyes on him. The thumb on the hand that rested on the side of your face came up to slightly pull down your bottom lip.

“You wouldn’t mind, right?” he said quietly then bit his lip while looking at yours.

Shaking your head gently, Jimin kissed you without a second thought. It was rough and hungry. He didn’t hold back for a second. Licking your lips, practically begging for access. You parted your lips slightly and that’s all he needed to slip his tongue into your mouth. No inch was left untouched. He started to walk forward making you walk back until the back of your knees hit the bed. 

After falling back on the bed, Jimin practically ripped off his thick black hoodie, showing the loose white shirt beneath. It was thin and the neckline hung well below his collarbones. The hoodie landed somewhere by the door as he got down on the floor on his knees. He gently took hold of the waistband on your pants before pulling them down slowly. As they pooled around your ankles, he came back up to start peppering kisses along your inner thighs. 

“I’m sorry baby girl, I would take my time with you but I can’t wait anymore,” his voice was thick with arousal as he tore off your shoes, socks, and pants. “I need to have you.”

Jimin ripped your panties from your waist and fell to the floor in shreds, “I’ll get you new ones.” 

Trailing more kisses down your thighs he got closer and closer to your core. His fingers began to skim over your folds and dip between them to land right on your clit. Rubbing small circles around it, his soft lips were at the apex of your thigh. 

He was so gentle with you, you weren’t sure how to feel. Adored, impatient, excited. Personally, you were never the vanilla type.

    Jimin was so close to your core, so close. But he pulled away at the last second. You whined, at which Jimin laughed at, as he pulled his shirt off from over his head. Tossing his shirt away he climbed back up your body.

    “There’s something I need to show you,” Jimin’s eyes were dark with excitement as he hovered over you.

    Your puzzled look was all he needed to continue to show what he meant. He was groaning as his head hung and his expression made it seem like he was in pain. You didn’t understand what was happening until you saw the tendrils coming out from his back. They were cobalt blue. Two were thinner than the other two. They grew and grew towards the ceiling but stopped just short of it. Once they were straight, as if they were stretching, they curled back down towards you and Jimin. They floated in the air and you stared at them. You weren’t appalled. No, you were...curious. You would’ve never thought he was anything other than human. 

    It’s not like you believed in aliens and werewolves it’s just you the type of person that thought, maybe they do exist, maybe they don’t. It looks like they do.

    “Are you gonna fuck me with those or not?” you said half-joking.

    “You’re not disgusted? Horrified?” Jimin could not believe what he was hearing. You wanted him to fuck you with his tentacles. You wanted him.

    “No, why would I be? I’m surprised and I have some questions but those can wait till later. Don’t you think?” you answered honestly and looked Jimin in the eyes while you said it. And after you said it, the tendrils behind Jimin visibly relaxed. 

    Jimin’s eyes lit up for only a second before he attacks your neck with his pillowy lips. One of the smaller tentacles reaches down between your legs causing you to get surprised and you try to close them. Jimin sucks on your neck harder as he held your legs open with his right hand, “It’s okay, jagi. I’ll make you feel good.”

    As Jimin nibbles on a particularly sensitive spot, you moaned. He almost came right then and there. Your voice was already music to his ears. But your moans? Absolutely heavenly. He tried his best to keep his body from shaking from the numerous shivers. Part of him couldn’t even believe that this was happening. He was touching you, breathing in your scent, pleasuring you. It was his dreams coming true and he was intoxicated with everything you.

    The tentacle between your legs began to rub your clit faster than what Jimin did. More moans started to escape you and your head tilted back into the pillows. Jimin was still making his way all-around your neck, making sure he was marking your neck thoroughly. 

You felt the other small tendril circling your entrance. Becoming coated with your arousal. It slowly began to enter, inch by inch. It was about the same thickness as your trusty vibrator at home so you stretched to its girth with ease. Its smooth texture slipped past your walls effortlessly. 

Jimin was starting to groan the deeper the tendril went. His breath became heavy as he nuzzled his face into your neck, “Jagi~ you’re so tight around him. I can’t wait until my cock is inside your hot cunt. Can I, jagiya?”

“Yes, please. I want you to fuck me,” you said brokenly in between moans.

Jimin sat up and quickly unbuttoned his pants and took them off swiftly. The two larger tentacles reached down to you and took off your coat and shirt. You arched from the building pressure in your abdomen just in time for them to take your bra off. 

The tentacle fucking you took up a hastened pace. It was starting to go deeper and deeper with every thrust. The knot in your lower stomach grew tauter. Jimin kissed you feverishly and swallowed your moans as you got closer to the peak. The very last thrust of the tendril made you come the hardest you’ve ever came before. You felt the tendril in your stomach as it spurted. As did every other tentacle and even Jimin’s cock was spewing out cum.

Jimin’s moan was getting you excited again. It was deep and guttural. You were panting as you felt full of his cum and felt more cum on your chest and stomach. 

“I didn’t know all of them had cum,” you chuckled as you regained your breath. 

Jimin laughs with you, “Now you know how I felt the first time I jerked off.”

His statement made you laugh harder as both of you came down from your highs. The appendage slowly began to pull out of your cum-filled cunt. You whimpered from the sensitivity. Jimin’s cum flowed out of your entrance before Jimin plugged you up with the tip of his cock.

Feeling the head, you realized just how big Jimin was. Being too distracted to notice earlier. Jimin could tell your realization by your expression.

“What’s the matter, jagi? Never had anyone this big before?” Jimin knows he was being a tease. Even though he doesn’t want to even think about the others who’ve touched you. Only he can touch you like this. He’s the only one who can pleasure you.

You knew what he was doing. He was getting smug. But you didn’t really have the patience to play games with him.

“Who knows.”

Jimin’s smirk fell as yours grew. Jimin stared into your eyes as he slammed his entire length into you in one thrust.

“You know I’ve stuffed you full. I don’t think there’s even any room for one of my tentacles. I can feel how I’m stretching you,” Jimin wasn’t going to let you win this one. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist to bring you with him as he sat back on his heels. Your chest heaved from his massive girth inside you. One small tendril wrapped around your wrists and held them above your head, the other small one began to circle at your puckered hole while a larger one spread your right cheek to give it room. And lastly, the last, larger tentacle curled around one of your breasts. 

Jimin slowly pulled out his thick cock before slamming back into your hot cunt. His moans mixed with yours as his pace became faster. Soon he was slamming in and out of you at a bruising pace. The appendage at your tight hole caught some of yours and Jimin’s combined cum and lubed you up. 

At first, it only dipped in its tip. After a few thrusts, it started to go further. Still taking on a slow pace, it steadily enlarged your hole. 

Jimin’s right arm let go of your waist to support himself above you as he leaned forward. He was still pistoning in and out of you with no intention of slowing down. Hair stuck to his forehead as did yours. Moans left you uncontrollably as both of your holes were being fucked and your tit was being gripped.

You felt the pressure on your breast vanish before feeling the said tendril slither up your neck. You hear Jimin breathe out a laugh as he saw his appendage shyly touch you.

“I think he wants to know if you could suck him,” Jimin smirked, knowing that’s exactly what it wanted. 

Opening your mouth, the tendril appeared to become a light blue as it took the invitation. You felt the tentacle practically purr from the wetness and warmth from your mouth. It thrusted into you languidly. Not going very deep so it wouldn’t hurt you. 

“Look at you. Being a slut for me. All your holes are filled with parts of me.”

His thrusts were becoming sloppy. And the tendril in your mouth was going down into your throat until you were gagging with every plunge. Your ass was so stretched out you knew that there was going to be a gap now. Maybe not a large one but there will be one. And Jimin was still pounding your swollen cunt with his massive girth. 

The tendril around your wrists let go to reach down to rub your clit in quick, small circles. You’re loud, almost screaming moans were muffled by the deep throating appendage.

You could feel you were getting so close to your release. You felt the familiar knot in your stomach building. By Jimin’s groans growing louder and his sloppy pace, you tell he was close too. 

He opened his eyes to see your body being completely surrounded by him. He let his arm fall around your waist again but he laid his head between your tits and put the rest of his energy into the last few hard pumps and stilled as he felt your walls flutter around him. 

Your eyes rolled into your skull and Jimin squeezed his eyes closed tightly. Your walls milked Jimin’s cock as it pulsed and shot cum inside you. You felt all the tentacles pulse out cum into your throat, ass, and onto your clit and mound. 

Reaching up to Jimin’s hair, you carded your fingers through the strands. Both of you were trying to calm your breathing down. Jimin was still coming but the tendril down your throat pulled out so you could breathe more easily. 

Jimin began to kiss your sternum after he came down from his high. You glanced down and back up, only to glance down again to notice a visible bulge in your stomach, that's still growing. 

"How much cum do you have?!" you exclaimed as you watched it grow bit by bit. 

"Don't pretend you don't like it," Jimin's smug attitude was still there as he knew he was right by your silence.

Jimin reluctantly pulled out of you and he didn’t mind how much cum was pouring out of your cunt. He knew there were going to be many more times like this. And that’s when he’ll worry about keeping you plugged up but for now, he just wanted to fall asleep next to you.

He pulled your exhausted body back up to the pillows with using the help from his now sky blue tentacles before they slowly retracted back into the slits in his back. 

“We should probably go, Mark and Jennie might be worried about us,” trying to sit up Jimin pulled you back down.

“No need to be in a hurry, jagi. You’re too exhausted to go out looking for him-them right?” Jimin brushed the hair from your forehead so he could see your eyes more clearly.

“Yeah, you’re right. Let’s just hope none of the employees find us,” you huffed out a laugh as you snuggled further into the covers. 

Jimin wrapped his arms around you and entangled his legs with yours. He wasn’t able to even doze off until you were sound asleep. He tried not to think about what just happened so he wouldn’t become hard and wake you up. He needed the whole night to transform this place back to the original with how worn out he is.

“Goodnight jagi. Tomorrow you’ll start your new life here with me. In our own haunted house.”

You woke up to Jimin hugging you tightly beneath the warm blanket that you had dirtied just a few hours ago. Your muscles didn’t want to make any effort to move so you had to lay there until you had the energy to get up and get dressed. Stretching out your legs a bit you felt a crack somewhere in your spine. You’re puzzled about how that would affect your back but you don’t worry about it. Nuzzling back into Jimin’s neck, you finally remembered Jennie and Mark being in the house with you. They must have gone home without you given how long it’s been.

They were adults, no reason to really worry about them. You tucked the blanket over your shoulder to hide from the cold draft. Jimin felt you moving around so he got impossibly closer to you and pulled the blanket up to his neck so it covered most of your head.

You groaned and tilted your head up causing your chin to rest on his chest making your lips pout. He cracked an eye open to see what you were doing. Seeing your sleepy, pouty face made him let out a breathy chuckle.

Jimin leaned down to kiss your forehead, “Did you sleep well?” He continued his kisses all over your face, moving down to reach your nose.

“Mm-hm,” your eyes were still closed when you thought about what it was. “Do you know what time it is?”

“No,” he kept smothering your face in kisses.

“I have to go home soon.”

“No.”

“No? I kinda do. I need clean clothes, I need a shower, and I need to check up on Jennie and Mark,” you began to untangle yourself from Jimin’s arms and legs only to have him roll you over to lay on you. “Jimin~ I have to get up,” laughing you tried to roll back over Jimin had you completely pinned. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said quietly into your ear before he kissed right below your lobe. “My marks are fading already, stay still.”

You huffed as he darkened the already almost purple hickeys on your neck, “After this, you have to get off me so I can go home.” 

“But you can’t go home. You live here now, with me,” he pushed himself up with his forearms on the mattress. His eyes were stone. But they were warm as they bore into yours. “You’re not leaving me.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” you whispered as you maintained eye contact. “How can either of us live here when it’s just a stage for townspeople to dress up and scare people?”

“It seems, you haven’t noticed the change in the room,” Jimin smirked as his eyes left yours to scan the room, causing you to follow his actions. 

The room was no longer a dirty beige with dust-covered furniture. It’s the same exact room except, it was gray. Everything in the room was gray beside you two. The window that had light from the fair shining through was completely blacked out. And the mirror above the desk was completely shattered. Little to no pieces remained in the frame. 

“Besides, your friends tried to find us but they kind of got trapped,” He laid back down next to you and rested his head on his hand. “So there’s no need to worry about them, sweetheart.”

You pushed his arm off and swung your legs onto the floor but you felt the familiar wetness from one of Jimin’s tentacles wrap around your abdomen. It made you sit back down and pulled you back to Jimin.

“It’s true that you have all the power over me. However, that doesn’t mean I’ll let you go.”

Your heart undoubtedly fluttered.

[grimelords]

October Playlist

My October playlist is finished and it’s complete from Rico Nasty to Rachmaninoff. I absolutely guarantee there’s something you’ll love in this 3 and a half hours of music, and probably something you’ll hate too! Something for everyone!

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Santeria - Pusha T: In anticipation of Jesus Is King I relistened to the entire Wyoming Sessions project a few times, and a year removed from all the hype and controversy here's the thing: it's fucking great. The individual albums ranged pretty widely in quality and felt slightly unfinished for how short they were sometimes, but taking the project as a whole 5-album 120 minute playlist it turns out it's a masterpiece. My personal tracklist goes Ye/Daytona/Nasir/KTSE/Kids See Ghosts, which isn't release order but I think makes it flow the best - both Kanye albums bookending it and the less impactful Nas and Teyana Taylor albums buried a bit further in where you can appreciate them now that you're deep in the mindset of the whole thing rather than alone on their own.

Puppets (Succession Remix) - Pusha T & Nicholas Brittel: This remix is such a perfect match: Pusha T’s corporate villainy finally given a context and prestige it deserves. It’s also short enough that it could feasible be the actual theme song next season, which would be a marked improvement imo.

Use This Gospel - Kanye West, Clipse & Kenny G: I am and remain a Kanye stan, even after everything. It’s nice to see him going back to the extremely uneven mastering of MBDTF era, it’s a sound that is uniquely his and it’s fun to see him revisit it. The thick vocoder harmony is so soupy you get lost in it, and the way it opens up to include the full choir in the No Malice verse is beautiful. Kanye reunited Clipse through Christ and we have Him to thank for that at least. The Kenny G break is great, and the grain and dirt on the whole track when the beat kicks in is so gritty you can feel it.

Man Of The Year - Schoolboy Q: I didn't love the Chromatics album they surprise released but it did thankfully remind me of the time Schoolboy Q sampled Cherry for Man Of The Year. Taken exclusively on lyrics, Man Of The Year is a triumph: he's the man of the year and it's all worked out but the sample and the beat underscores the dead eyed melancholy that runs through the whole of Oxymoron of never winning even when you've won.

Cold - Rico Nasty: This song fucking tears your face off. Imagine STARTING your album at this level of intensity. She just goes straight to 100 and burns the house down. Outside of Lil John so few rappers can get away with just straight up screaming in the adlibs but the way she just lung tearingly screams GOOOO through this is fucking sick.

Fake ID - Riton & Kah-Lo: TikTok songs are becoming their own genre, but it’s a very nebulous sort of a mood encompassing everything from aughts pop punk hooks to skipping rope raps like this. It’s a strange new way for songs to blow up that everyone seems compelled to write articles about but my take on it is it’s exactly the same as ads were in the old days. Remember how many songs did absolute numbers because someone put it in a Motorola ad? Same thing except you’re not being sold a phone this time, so in some ways it’s better. Anyway, this song bangs. The spirit of 212 era Azealia Banks lives on even if she’s doing her best ever since then to kill it.

Doctor Pressure - MYLO & Miami Sound Machine: There was a very good era in the mid-2000s where you could just put mashups out as singles and they’d chart, it was sick. My only two examples are this and Destination Calabria but I’m sure there’s more. Drop The Pressure is a masterpiece but as an alternate version this mashup is equally masterful.  

If You’re Tarzan, I’m Jane - Martika: Martika is unfortunately best known for the 1989 one hit wonder Toy Soldiers, a sort of boring overdramatic ballad which is best known for being sampled by Eminem in 2004 in his quite bad super duper serious song Like Toy Soldiers. I say unfortunately because every other song on her first album is great, it’s all hypercolour 80s synthpop and I love this song especially because it is so completely stuffed with activity it becomes dizzying. It gets so lost in itself that they completely abandon the dramatic pause before “I’m Jane” for some reason toward the end and instead just layer three different tracks of vocal adlibs. Every part of this song is great, the weird ‘o we o we o’ chant before the second verse? The neighing horse guitar before the bridge? The musical tour of the world IN the bridge? The part where she says ‘I want to swing on your vine?’. This song has everything.

You Got Me Into This - Martika: Every part of the instrumentation in this is amazing. The bass sound, the main synth, the extremely athletic brass, the wonderful echoing 80s snare that’s as big as a house. I just love it. She also does some really intriguing slurs on the word ‘love’ all the way through, just moving it around absolutely anywhere.

Space Time Motion - Jennifer Vanilla: I love when someone has such a clearly defined aesthetic and mission from the very beginning. Jennifer Vanilla is the alter ego of Becca Kaufmann from Ava Luna who I've had in this playlist before but never competely investigated. Jennifer Vanilla feels like an episode of Sex And The City where Samantha gets really into Laurie Anderson and she is incredible. This video is the best mission statement I’ve ever seen and is currently criminally underviewed so please do your part and support the Jennifer cause by watching these two videos.

So Hot You’re Hurting My Feelings - Caroline Polachek: Caroline Polachek said watch me write a Haim song and did it. Apparently the very early versions of this album started when she was in writing sessions for Katy Perry, but then it started to turn into something else and she took it for herself, and I think you can hear that. With more normal production and a little faster this is a hundred percent a Katy Perry song, but instead it’s completely uniquely Caroline Polachek and it’s all the better for it. And also Katy Perry must be furious because her new songs are simply not good at all.

Electric Blue - Arcade Fire: I just love the obsession of this song in the outro, chanting over and over and over “Cover my eyes electric blue, every single night I dream about you”

Promiscuous - Nelly Furtado and Timbaland: I got a youtube ad for one of those Masterclass videos the other day and it was Timbaland teaching production. This ad went for five minutes for some reason and I watched the whole thing and it made me admire Timbaland even more. He’s demonstrating his compositional technique which is basically to just beatbox, and then loop it, and then add some extra percussion layers with more beatboxing and hand percussion, then loop that and add a little melody by singing or humming. ‘It’s that simple’ he says. Then later he goes back in and puts in actual drums or synths or whatever. I was stunned because suddenly a lot of his music makes sense. Without the barrier of instrument or timbre to get hung up on it allows him to write from this instantly head-nodding place of just making up a little beat you can sing and dance to immediately. Listening to a lot of his music now you can hear the bones underneath everything so clearly, all his beats are supremely beatboxable and all his melodies are very hummable, they’ve never overcomplicated by instrumental skill or habits, they just exist to serve the song.

Serpent - TNGHT:  TNGHT are back baby and this song is like nothing I’ve ever heard before. It feels like afrofuturist footwork from another dimension, the mbira sounding lead against the oil drum percussion in this cacophony of yelps and screams that just builds to an irrepressible energy without a bassline in sight.

Ghosts Of My Life - Rufige Kru: I'm reading Mark Fisher's Ghosts Of My Life right now and some good person has put together a spotify playlist of all the songs he mentions. He has a whole essay about why this song is sick so I’m not going to go into it here but it’s interesting to hear about someone growing up with jungle when it’s a genre that has always felt very niche to me. I guess partly as a result of it never really making it mainstream as a genre here, and also me being a little too young for it.

Renegade Snares - Omni Trio: My biggest introduction to drum and bass comes from the game Midnight Club 3: Dub Edition and this really great song from the soundtrack that is finally on spotify after a very long absence. At almost the exact same time as I discovered this song with its spacious piano and repitched snares, I discovered Venetian Snares and breakcore in general. Having no particular frame of reference for breakcore as an offshoot of drum and bass only amplified its appeal to me as a completely alien genre that sounded like nothing else I’d ever heard, and so my personal history with drum and bass is a story of walking backwards into it after the fact which is interesting if not helpful.

Punching In A Dream - The Naked And Famous: The Mark Fisher book also mentions the Tricky song which I’ve never heard from which The Naked And Famous got their name and I thought ‘man remember The Naked And Famous, they were sick?’. The sort of harder edged Passion Pit instrumentation mixed with pop punk, a winning combination.

Vegas - Polica: My favourite part of this song is the unexpected blastbeats after the chorus, using their two drummers to their full advantage and just shaking the song by its foundations every now and then lest you get too comfortable.

Right Words - Cults: I’m beginning to suspect I may be the last surviving Cults stan but if this be my lot I’ll gladly do it

Running From The Sun - Chromatics: The new Chromatics album got me to relisten to their definitive document Kill For Love, and something new I appreciated this time about an album I love a lot is its length. Kill For Love is almost 80 minutes long and it luxuriates in that length. It’s sequenced perfectly so it never feels like it’s long for no reason, but large chunks just completely space out and go out of focus in the soft neon light and the second half of this song is a good example. The whole thing just evaporates into smoke and it feels perfect. If this were a shorter and more concise song that had a proper ending it wouldn’t feel right, this whole album has no straight edges at all and it’s all the better for it.

Chance - Angel Olsen: I cannot belive this song. This feels like she wrote her own version of My Way looking forward instead of back. Instead of the ruefully triumphant "I've lived a life that's full / I've traveled each and every highway" it's “I don't want it all / I've had enough / I don't want it all / I've had a love." before the turn from the future to the present at the end, where she gives up on a forever love in exchange for right now. I love how raw this vocal take feels. It's not her best voice but it feels very very honest as a result. She's just singing her heart out in this huge showstopping closer. In an interview she said "I didn’t love the recording of it very much, and now I just feel in love with it as a closing statement, because it’s a way of saying, ‘Look, I have hope for the next thing in my life.’ I’m not going to anticipate negativity or hate or an end. But instead of us looking towards forever, why don’t we just work on right now?"

Something To Believe - Weyes Blood: This album just keeps paying dividends. I’m systematically going through long obsessive periods with every single song on it and now it’s Something To Believe’s turn.

Don’t Shut Me Up (Politely) - Brigid Mae Power: Without meaning to, Brigid Mae Power seems to have created some incredible fusion of folk music and stoner metal. The way this song absolutely sits unmoving on one deep and resonant chord for so long is amazing. When it does change chords it feels like a full body effort to get up and shift. She has a similar feeling to Emma Ruth Rundle, who more explicitly wears her metal influences, but Brigid Mae Powers' strength is in how much it resembles the traditional folk side of the spectrum. Her voice is also amazing, with the huge effortless runs she goes on about halfway through just coming unmoored from the song completely and floating off into space.

Sweetheart I Ain’t Your Christ - Josh T. Pearson: I had a real problem with Josh T. Pearson for a long time because of how he presents as so authentic on this album, and as I’ve previously discussed in these playlists the concept of authenticity in country music is a source of neverending anguish for me. But his newest album The Straight Hits! has largely cured that for me because it’s not good at all, is extremely contrived (all the song titles have the word ‘hit’ in them) and he’s shaved his beard and replaced it with one of the worst irony moustaches I’ve ever seen. So now I’m free to enjoy The Last Of The Country Gentlemen as a character construction, which allows me a far deeper and truer engagement than the idea of a man actually living and thinking like this which is frankly a little embarrassing.

Codeine Dream - Colter Wall: I love this song, it has that feeling that great folk songs do of feeling like you’ve always known it. The strongest moments on this Colter Wall album to me are in songs like this that chase this particular feeling of morose isolation, and where he leans away from storytelling like his biggest hit Kate McCannon - a kind of cliche country murder ballad. This song is fantastic because of the way it wallows in this black depression not as a low point, but as a reprieve from the lower previous point. Things are as bad as they get now, and they’re always going to be like this, but at least I don’t dream of you anymore.

Motorcycle - Colter Wall: I only just found out about Colter Wall this month and have been listening to this album over and over. When I first heard him I though it was strange I'd never heard of him before because he's obviously some old country veteran based off his voice, but it turns out he's 24 and this is his first album he just sings like he ate a cigar. I love this song especially because it's so straighforward. It's a simple and supremely relatable mood: what if I bought a motorbike and fucking died.

Who By Fire - Leonard Cohen: I watched American Animals a couple of weeks ago and it’s a great movie, highly recommended. This song plays near the end and I waited for the credits to find out what this great song was, and like a rube found out it’s only one of the most celebrated songwriters of all time. I’ve never had much of a Leonard Cohen phase, somehow. In my mind I always get him mixed up with Lou Reed, which I’m learning is actually way off. I love the harmony vocals in this, and the way they move around into the shadows in the ‘who shall I say is calling’ parts.

Words From The Executioner To Alexander Pearce - The Drones: Alexander Pearce was a convict who escaped Sarah Island’s penal settlement in Tasmania with seven other convicts in 1822. He was recaptured two months later alone. In 1823 he re-escaped with a fellow convict, Thomas Cox and again was returned alone.He was executed by hanging later having eaten six men during his escape attempts.

It Ain’t All Flowers - Sturgill Simpson: I found this album going through the Pichfork 200 albums of the decade list and I feel like a fool for not having heard it sooner because now I am completely obsessed. Sturgill Simpson is doing the very best work in country music right now because he's looking backwards with one eye and forwards with the other and this song is a great illustration: a perfect Hank Williams Jr type country song with big voiced hollers that morphs into a surprise psych freakout for the whole second half.

Desolation Row (Take 1, Alternate Take) - Bob Dylan: I’ve always liked Desolation Row a lot as a song but the acoustic guitar on the album version is simply not good, it's just kind of mindlessly playing this long directionless solo the whole time and over the course of a song this long it really adds up to just being annoying. Luckily because it’s a Bob Dylan song there’s a whole universe of alternate takes and mixes and this is a great pared down version I found without it. The best kind of Bob Dylan songs are the ones where he just makes an endless stream of allusions and bizzare imagery, and this and Bob Dylan's 115th Dream are my favourite examples of it.

Living On Credit Blues - El Ten Eleven: This is a groove I get stuck in my head a lot, and this is also a song I think would work well as a theme for a tv show. I've been meaning to do a 30 second edit of it just for my own amusement, maybe I'll do that soon. El Ten Eleven are a duo where one guy plays drums and one guys plays a double necked guitar/bass and looping pedals and somehow against all the odds of that description they manage to make emotional, driving instrumental music of very deep feeling, like this song which is one of my all time favourites.

Dusty Flourescent/Wooden Shelves - Talkdemonic: This is sort of a companion Living On Credit Blues, and Talkdemonic are similarly an instrumental duo with good drums. This entire album from 2005 is highly recommended, it's a sort of halfway between the post rock of the time and a kind of acoustic hiphop instrumentals that ends up sounding very rustic and homemade, like a soudtrack for a winter cabin.

Turnstile Blues - Autolux: This is a perfect song, built around a perfect beat. Every part just fits perfectly.

Fort Greene Park - Battles: The new Battles album is finally out and I absolutely love it. I cannot think of another band that has shed members in the same way as Battles; originally a quartet on their first album, then a trio for their second and third and now down to a duo for their fourth album - and somehow still performing material from their first album live. The paring down has seemingly only servers to focus them and the new album sounds fresh but still distinctively Battles, with no sense of anything lost or missing. This song is my standout so far, and the guitar line in particular is so good and interesting to me because I don’t think I’ve ever heard Ian Williams play something so distinctly guitar-y in his whole career. This is a straight up pentatonic riff with bends and everything. Filtered through his usual chopped and looped oddness it feels like he’s almost gone all the back around the guitar continuum and is this close to just doing power chords next album. And I’ll support him!

Diane Young - Vampire Weekend: I've listened to this song a lot in my life and I only looked up the lyrics the other day to find out that the opening line is 'you torched a SAAB like a pile of leaves' which I somehow never noticed. What a power phrase. There's also this very good quote from Ezra about it: "I had this feeling that the world doesn’t want a song called ‘Dying Young’,“ says Koenig, "it just sounded so heavy and self-serious, whereas ‘Diane Young’ sounded like a nice person’s name.”" and he was right to do it. This song is 100 times better because he’s saying Diane Young than it would be if he was saying ‘Dying Young’. That’s a songwriting tip for you.

Monster Mash - Bootsy Collins & Buckethead: Hey did you hear Bootsy Collins and Buckethead did a cover of the monster mash? Thank god for freaks.

The Dark Sentencer - Coheed And Cambria: There's not that many bands that I absolutely loved as a teenager that I've completely abandoned. I've moved on from a lot but I'll still keep up with them if they have a new album or something. Coheed And Cambria are one that I've almost completely turned my back on. They've had 3 apparently pretty patchy albums since I stopped listening after Year Of The Black Rainbow, which was extremely bad and really taught me what people mean when they say an album is 'overproduced'. On a whim I decided to see what they're up to now and listened to their album from last year and guess what: it rocks. It's got everything you'd expect from them: big riffs, bad and confusing lyrics, his weird high voice, overwrought and overlong songwriting, cheesy muscleman solos. Everything about this band is sort of cheesy and embarrassing and takes itself way too seriously, but I'm discovering slowly that that's what's so good about it. The weird pulp sci-fi story and mindset that underpins this whole band is ridiculous and overwrought and as a result it gives the music a reason to exist the way it does. It’s so big and dumb because the story it serves is so big and dumb. It feels exactly like reading Perry Rhodan or some increidibly long and dense but not especially good series like that, it’s pulp music and that’s what I love about it.

Romance In A (6 Hands) - Sergei Rachmaninoff: Piano works for 4 hands (where two guys sit next to each other on the same piano) have always seemed to tend towards the realm of the gimmick or party trick, and works for 6 hands (where three guys do it) even more so - but this Rachmaninoff piece is just beautiful and I can’t believe I haven’t heard of it before this month. It doesn’t overload everyone with a million things to do, it just builds this very wide harmonic bed for the simple melody to swim in - then the way the melody transfers over to the middle register is just magical before the tension of the final section takes over and builds.

Love's Theme - The Love Unlimited Orchestra: I’m so glad I got to learn about the Love Unlimited Orchestra this month. Aside from having one of the best names in music, they were Barry White’s backing band and had their own solo instrumental records too. Here’s a fun aside: Kenny G was a member when he was 17 and still in high school. This is a genre of music that has seemed to totally disappear into the realm of parody and farce only which is sort of a shame because it is unironically very beautiful and dense in its own way.

Dancing In The Moonlight - Liza Minelli: Can you believe I thought Dancing In The Moonlight by Toploader was an original until the other day when my girlfriend played this Liza Minelli version that predates it by several decades? This also isn’t the original! It was written by a band named King Harvest in 1972, with this version AND a version by Young Generation both coming out in 73 and a whole bunch of others in between (including a Baha Men version in 94) before Toploader finally had a proper hit with it in 2000. Truly the world works in mysterious ways. This version is the finest I think, it just goes and goes, frenetically unwinding at a breakneck pace before opening up into a flute solo of all things and then winding up again even and finishing in a kick line breakdown. Absolutely no limits.

Girls - Royal Headache: The sheer amount of power and melody that this song manages to pack into a minute and a half is incredible, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard a more instantly relatable opening lyric than “Girl! Think they’re to fine for me! Oh girls! And I’m inclined to agree!”

Pov Piti - Matana Roberts: In anticipation of Matana Roberts new volume of her Coin Coin album series that just came out I relistened through the three previous albums and they are even more powerful than I remembered. This song serves as a pretty good mission statement for the whole project, and the heartrending tortured screams that open it set the tone for the rest of it. Matana Roberts sings the injustices of slavery into being, and her sing-song delivery highlights the trauma - her indifferent delivery mirroring the indifference of the world at large. The way she rattles off this story like she’s gone over it a million times and grown numb to the facts only accentuates the pain in the telling, a pain that rises to the surface in the screams of her instrument and herself.  

Kingdoms (G) - Sunn 0))): This new Sun 0))) album is one of my favourites they’ve ever done because it’s so straightforward and back to basics. Every song is just ten minutes of straight up no-nonsense, big, rich, drone. They even put the notes in the track names so you can drone along if you like.

listen here

[asunafairywizardessheart]

Part 5 Thanksgiving in the Country: Promises and Acceptances

Elias/Asana

This is the final part of this mini story, hope you enjoyed it. 

Elias emerged from the shower, his hair partially wet. Sunlight streamed through the window and lightly glowed upon her body as she took advantage of the holiday to sleep in. She wore a smile as she slept on her side, with her knees tucked slightly and her cheek resting upon the back of her hand. Her beauty accentuated by the sunlight.

It was a sight he was accustomed to seeing and a view he was never tired of seeing. While admiring her sleeping, Elias saw his phone by the bed side table began flashing as it rang on silent. Vibrating on the wooden surface, the knocking stirred Asana but he sat on the edge of the bed and read the caller ID.

“Hello, Father,” Elias whispered.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” he greeted, “Extend my best wishes to Asana and her family.”

“I will, Happy Thanksgiving to Mother and you,” he returned the gesture, “Give me a moment, Asana’s sleeping so I need to take this outside.”

He rose to his feet, careful not to bounce the mattress too much and crept silently along the floor to the door. Shutting it quietly, he could continue the conversation with his father more comfortably, “I am fine to talk now.”

“How is meeting her family going anyway?”

“Is that what you really want to discuss, Father?”

Walter sighed, “Must you feel the need to shut me out, Elias. I am curious as to what kind of people they are.”

“Um, actually,” Elias recalled Owen saying he had met his father before, “Asana’s father has met you before. Remember when you represented the Agricultural College in Wiley City?”

Walter hummed, “Vaguely. Why, that’s before Julius was born.”

“He did say you were younger in those days,” Elias repeated, “His name is Owen Way. Does the name ring any bells?”

Walter had to think for a moment, “Can’t say it does,” though, he couldn’t put a face to the name, “However, asking me to remember something that long ago is a stretch. I have a good memory, but I can’t remember his name or face.”

“Well, he remembers you,” Elias added and made his way down the staircase to the kitchen, “Because of the impression you left on him, he believes I am no different.”

“I take it I left a bad impression,” Walter chuckled, “Country folk tend to be suspicious of the city folk. Asana’s family own a farm and her uncle owns a winery, have you toured them?”

“I have,” Elias nodded and waved to Tobias and Charlotte having breakfast in the kitchen, “That reminds me, Asana is bringing everyone back a bottle of wine from her Uncle’s winery, it is quite delicious actually.”

“I am familiar with her Uncle’s wine,” Walter responded but he sounded preoccupied with other tasks by the way his voice had changed, “It is quite good for a middle-range brand.”

Elias could hear shuffling paper in the background and his mother’s voice in the background, “Anyway, putting aside this conversation. Was there something important you wanted to tell me? Are our plans good to go?”

“Yes, that’s why I called,” Walter said.

“And?” Elias prompted him nervously.

“On your call, federal agents will move in to make an arrest. I have all the files you sent me, and I have passed them onto your Uncle who will lead the prosecution. I have called in this favour from a guy who owes me one. What they want is to make an arrest where he can’t run away.”

“Understood,” Elias smiled, “Thank you, Father.”

“It has helped our country,” Walter answered.

“He was already wanted?”

“Correct. Authorities have had a challenging time catching him because he is always changing his appearance and the car he drives. Along with using fake names and leaving no electronic or paper trail. He’s good but we are better.”

“What will happen to him?” Elias questioned, “I assume maximum penalty.”

“Carl is pushing for the maximum sentence,” Walter responded, “So, whenever you are ready, Elias. They make their move on your command.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I must be going,” Walter had to end the call, “Aside from working, we are attending a breakfast banquet held by the Mayor and his wife,” he sounded unexcited about having to attend.

Elias could hear the disinterest in his voice and chuckled, “Same thing as usual, I suppose. Rich people trying to impress other rich people.”

“Now, it is not all that bad,” Walter insisted, “There will be decent food and pleasant conversation. It is a shame I will not have any of my children here this year though.”

Slowly descending the staircase, he found his way into the kitchen where Charlotte had already started preparations for the Thanksgiving dinner later in the evening, with Tobias running through the images on his camera and Owen devouring breakfast.

“Sounds boring,” Elias continued to talk to his father, remarking on the quality of the mayor’s banquet his parents were attending, “Too be honest, I am quite glad to be missing it this year.”

“Elias,” Walter sighed, “Parties, such as this one, is an effective way to gain new clients. If you want to become a lawyer, advertising your name to the right crowds is important if you wish to be successful.”

“You know I am not interested in defending the rich and powerful from their own corruptions,” Elias reminded him, “I see no point in it. I would rather put them away in prisons. Uncle Carl said if I am interested in becoming a prosecutor having trial experience on both sides of the fence is invaluable experience.”

“He is not wrong,” Walter agreed, “I guess one day you and I will be going against each other in the court room if prosecution is the career path you choose to take. However, whatever happened to your aspirations to research law in other countries?”

Elias paused for a moment, “…I could still research law. It depends.”

“Depends, on what?” Walter tried to gauge his son’s line of thinking, “On Asana, I am assuming?”

He would compromise on his career goals if it meant being able to build a happy future with Asana, “Asana has her own career goals too, Father, and I want to support her. Depending on what we decide to do with our careers, I am willing to compromise on any of my own career goals to be able to stay with her. I would not be unhappy if I became a federal prosecutor.”

“Elias,” Walter worried about him, “Before she came into your life, you had plans. I do not have anything against her, of course, I think she’s a lovely person. However, if you are changing your career plans, set the right stones for your future and don’t overcomplicate it.”

“I know, I know,” Elias mumbled, “You are sounding like Klaus every day. He said the same thing to me before we left the city for Asana’s home in the country.”

“That’s because out of the three of you, Klaus is the most sensible and logical,” Walter commented, “Your brother would have made a fantastic lawyer, but he opted to teach law instead.”

“Father, you once said, ‘to each to his own success and whatever makes a man happiest’,” Elias in turn lectured his father, “Klaus is happy with his career. Listen, Asana and I are talking about our future and how we intend on moving forward with each other. We will make this work, trust us.”

Again, he sighed and in the background, he could hear Mary calling for him to dress for the banquet, “I sincerely hope you both know what you are doing,” Walter emphasised, “It is not good to make your father worry, Elias. As such, I will be calling in soon and checking on you. For now, I must get going.”

“Have fun.”

“Good day,” Walter farewelled him, “Oh, extend my Thanksgiving wishes to Asana and her family, would you.”

“Of course, same to Mother and you.”

With a click, the phone call ended. Charlotte assumed he had come down for a coffee but had made it for him while he was on the phone, “Was that your father?”

“Yes,” Elias smiled and gently accepted the coffee she offered, “Thank you. He sends his thanksgiving wishes to everyone.”

“Would you like some breakfast, Elias?” Charlotte asked, “I cooked up some bacon and eggs a moment ago. I see Asana must still be sleeping.”

She went to the oven and used a cotton mitt to pull out a tray of cooked food she was keeping warm, not expecting Asana to be having a long sleep in. It appears Edith and Fred were not joining them this morning, but Tobias, Owen and Charlotte already had their own serving. Elias gathered a plate and insisted on dishing out his own meal since she had gone to the trouble of making it.

“I hear you went out to Lucas’ winery yesterday, gathering more evidence?” Owen asked him, his voice the calmest and gentlest it had been towards Elias since his arrival, but still had hints of his sternness.

Elias nodded as he ate a chuck of food and spoke as he swallowed, “Well, that was one reason why we went up there, but I think Asana really wanted to show me around the winery.”

His legs still ached from the many times he had to climb challenging inclines of the valleys’ hills as they walked between the lines of fenced grape vines, harvested earlier to produce the next season’s stock of various wines. Unlike her family’s farm, the winery was closer to the mountains and forests that surrounded the village. From the homestead on the largest hill, provided a romantic and panoramic view of Lucas’ home. He not only learned of the variety of wine they produced but also why Lucas had entered the wine business.

With a colour scheme of black, white and pink, Elias had asked about the brand of his wine. Olivia, his late wife, inspired the pink colour because it was her favourite colour and she had lost her life to an aggressive form of breast cancer. A portion of the winery’s profits went towards research, but Elias caught the sadness in his voice as he lived out his wife’s dream of creating a national wine empire. There were similar sad stories when Asana and he had visited Judith and Bill, and why they would never sell their lands and their businesses to any other person.

“I learnt a lot yesterday,” Elias commented as he remembered those stories.

“So, you should have,” Owen knew what he was talking about, “That’s why so many people are excited about you dealing with Aston. For several people, these farms are not just businesses, as some city men may see it….”

“It’s their homes,” Elias interrupted him, “I know.”

Owen was grateful he understood, “I’m glad you get it.”

“Has Grandad done the rounds on the farm?” Tobias suddenly asked.

“Yeah, he did the minor things he could do with one hand,” Owen replied, “I helped with the rest. It’s a public holiday, so he can’t get to a doctor today.”

“Oh, it’s a sprained wrist,” Charlotte wasn’t worried, “He’s had worse injuries than that in recent years.”

“It’s not the point,” Owen shook his head, “Those injuries were self-inflicted and this one wasn’t. My father was assaulted and as a result injured.”

Tobias chimed in, “I could’ve helped out this morning.”

Owen knew he could of, but Fred had insisted otherwise because Tobias was going to give up on his deadline, “He knows, and I know, but you have your deadline to meet. He didn’t want to interfere with your job, especially not after how much you sacrifice to get the shots you do.”

“I already sent my thesis away,” Tobias promised, “I’m not that behind deadline. I just got to send these images into the magazines for publication. It’s not a big deal.”

After yesterday, Elias had realised Owen had taken a step back from accepting him because he thought he was making false promises. That’s why he brought up Aston’s name now. Elias figured he needed to tell Owen the truth to regain the trust he had earned yesterday before Fred was assaulted.

“Mr Way, are you busy right now?” Elias had no choice but to tell him.

“Not really, why?”

“Could I speak to you for a moment?” Elias requested his private company.

Owen quizzically raised an eyebrow, “If it is about that menace, can’t you tell all of us?”

“Not really, there’s something I want to show you.”

Elias gathered his phone where he had been receiving emails from his father. Charlotte motioned Owen to move from his seat and go hear what Elias had to say and refused to take no for an answer, “Go!” she pushed him out of the room.

Casually, Owen joined Elias in the living room, “What is it?”

“Asking you to put your trust into me is not really working,” Elias said.

Owen didn’t disagree, “I’m only trusting my daughter’s faith in you. Yesterday, you could have done something, and you didn’t, and I’m quite used to being told false promises by wealthy city folk like you.”

“You mean, because of my father.”

“All your father cares about his money and recognition,” Owen laughed, “Our case was just another piece of experience for him. We aren’t a wealthy college, but we are an important educational facility to kids who can’t access higher education in the city. We were accused of abusing animals and performing illegal experiments, but we weren’t doing such things. The accusations came from animal activists and a disgruntled employee who had been dumped from the research team for sabotaging our project. As soon as your father got his money, got his name in the papers and on the news, he represented us and pretended to care about our cause.”

Elias listened to him and Owen continued, “He won our case for us, sure. But he’s one example in the reasons why I don’t trust wealthy city folk. Minister for education, he promised he would build us a new centre for agricultural veterinary education with modern equipment to tend to a widespread region. Many farmers invested funds, their time and energy to make it happen, there were fundraisers, and then the Minister said ‘no’, the money is to be spend elsewhere in the region. We were used and there were farmers who were furious, but the Minister didn’t care. He said there were other urgent matters the region needed, when we complained about it, all records of our fundraising had been erased.”

“Now, I have you,” Owen growled, “You are not here to obviously deal with Aston but introducing yourself as my daughter’s fiancée. However, you have promised to the town, to us, that you would get rid of him. Yesterday, you had a chance and didn’t act on it. Only filmed what you could on your phone. You are just like those men, they don’t care who they hurt making promises too so long as they make themselves look good. These people out here, have been played time and time again by the wealthy and the powerful and they get away with it because the people out here are poor and weak and have a sense of right and wrong.”

Elias now understood why he had a major issue with people from wealthy backgrounds, just as Asana had warned him, “I know I am asking a lot here, for you to trust me, but please don’t hold me in the same regard as those men. I may be from their world, but most of time I wish I weren’t. My father thought I signed up for a career into law to defend those who are corrupt, but I would rather see those kinds of people be punished per according to the law.”

“Saying it is much easier than doing it,” Owen answered.

“Before, when you said the farms here are not businesses to the people,” Elias reminded him, “I have never once thought they were at all. Here and at the winery, what I saw was my fiancée’s home and the home of her family. Now, I am not supposed to be sharing this with you because it is under federal investigation. So, promise me you won’t tell anyone about what I have planned.”

Owen’s expression changed to surprise, “Federal investigation?” he whispered back, “How? No one has said anything because they’ve been too scared too.”

“I did,” Elias answered, “Bradley Aston is not his true name. His real name is Marcus Harrington Junior and he has done this before. He’s a con artist and a fraud, convicted on multiple occasions for tax evasion, illegal foreign investments in Asian markets, embezzlement of government money, using false names and lying to police and aiding or causing suicides in previous land owners he has sent broke, doing this exact same thing. I had my brother look into it to begin with and then had my father revisit his old files. On our findings, his industry is non-existent but has been embezzling government funds for the last five years and has lured in several farmers across the country causing them to lose millions in illegal and unlawful contracts with their money sent offshore to fund illegal foreign organisations. Now, the federal government knew it was happening but were never able to trace it. My father, brother and I have been working to piece it all together and pushed on our evidence onto my Uncle, he’s the crown prosecutor. We have everything we need to pin him, and now he we need to catch him.”

“You did all that in a matter of days?” Owen was shocked.

“My family’s power is…remarkable,” Elias shrugged, “But, I’m not doing this for any other reason than for the sake my fiancée and her family and town. Had I not known her, had I not loved her, I would have never known about this and neither would have the federal police. Hence why I can’t just let him go, otherwise he will just do this to another community. Do you understand, now?”

Owen nodded, “So, you can’t say?”

“I only kept it a secret because gossip spreads around this town like wildfire,” Elias chuckled, “If he overheard the slightest gossip that I was after him, he’d run. Federal police have already raided several of the hotels he has passed through and are now wearing plain clothes across Wiley City, watching him but the wrong move could make him run. He could be armed and that’s why I need to catch him off guard. Please, I need you to trust me.”

Hearing his plan, Owen felt a little more relaxed, “Does Asana know about this?”

“She’s been helping me send these files off to my father,” Elias replied, “Now you know what I am doing, do you still have your doubts about me?”

Owen didn’t know how he was supposed to reply after learning about this major investigation had been happening behind the scenes in the three days Elias had been here. It was scary but impressive, “Remind me never to make you an enemy,” he muttered.

“I am not an unreasonable man,” Elias assured him.

“Even, if in the unlikely event Asana was to hurt you.”

“Of course,” Elias sincerely replied, “I’m not immature. Look, if you don’t believe. Read this,” Elias showed him an email on his phone his father had sent him.

Owen took the device and read the words carefully. Everything Elias had told him was true and with proof from the federal police to prove he was not lying, “He goes from town to town using a different name and image?”

Elias nodded, “He’s a top-class con-man but not good enough to fool us. Remember, you can’t tell another person this, not even your father. I only told you because I didn’t want to lose whatever acceptance I earned yesterday morning when I was talking to you. I love your daughter and I want you to be able to see beyond my name and background and see me as a man asking to marry your daughter.”

For a long moment, Owen didn’t reply. He only sighed and eventually handed Elias back his phone. As he did, he heard footsteps coming down the stairs and turned around to see Asana. Her eyes met her father’s and Elias who leaned against the back of the lounge.

“What’s going on?” Asana questioned and slowly stepped towards them.

“Nothing,” Owen promised her with a friendly smile, “Good morning, sweetie.”

She was even more suspicious because it felt tense between them, “…Morning,” she cuddled up to Elias’ side, “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You looked peaceful,” his lips curled into a gentle smile, the one he only ever showed her, “I didn’t have the heart to wake you up.”

With her back turned to her father, she whispered in his ear, “Why does it feel so tense between you two?”

“…Never mind,” Elias kissed her cheek, “We’re just men, talking about things.”

She didn’t buy it, “You don’t lie very good,” then she looked back to her father, “Daddy?” her tone demanded she know because she feared they were exchanging unfriendly words.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise,” Elias squeezed her hand.

“Right,” Owen agreed, “Elias here was just talking to me about Aston. What he has told me, I promise I will not share with anybody else.”

Asana looked back to Elias, “You told him about the federal investigation?”

He nodded, “Also, the truth behind Marcus.”

“Okay,” Asana knew they weren’t lying but what was with the tension, “So, why is it so tense between you two.”

Elias fell quiet, searching Owen for a response. Asana traded glances between the both, “…Elias, are you helping us purely because you want my acceptance as my daughter’s partner?”

He shook his head, “It’s part of the reason. However, I am also doing this because I know the people here are afraid of losing their homes because they believe they are powerless against him. I have come to love this area too, I find it very peaceful and a warm place to live. As I said, I’m not like those men who have disappointed you before.”

“Daddy, Elias is being honest,” Asana begged him, and held Elias hand in one hand and her father’s in the other, “Please, Daddy.”

He found himself in a tough spot, especially with Asana begging him to accept Elias. After speaking with him yesterday, and all he has learnt over the past three days, he has been nothing but honest with the family and they hadn’t even asked him to help deal with this criminal that was harassing them. He realised Elias did it out of the kindness of his heart and because it was upsetting Asana.

“…Will this plan of yours work?” Owen asked.

“I have the federal police at my command,” Elias promised him.

Owen thought for a moment, but wasn’t about to be fooled again and replied, “…If this works, you have my acceptance and blessing to marry my daughter. I only just realised no one had asked you to help us with this man but I get it now. It was upsetting Asana and you’re doing this for nothing but being kind.”

“See,” Asana was happy he could finally see it, “He’s not a bad person, Dad.”

Feeling awkward, Owen gave a small smile and then walked away, “Maybe not,” he muttered, it was loud enough for them to hear it, but he couldn’t say it to their faces.

Elias wasn’t sure how to take his reply, but Asana was happy, “That’s one step to getting that handshake,” she smiled.

“You really think he will?” Elias wondered, “He doesn’t like me.”

“No, he likes you.”

“What if he’s afraid of me?” Elias panicked, “I told him everything and now I just said I have the police at my call.”

Asana kissed his cheek, “He’s grown up in the country his entire life. For any person out here, the power to have the federal police at your call and the shadiest of criminals fear you is like…a super power. Thank you, though.”

Elias wanted to change the subject, “Father extended his thanksgiving wishes.”

“We should see them when we get home,” Asana suggested, “Where are we going to spend Christmas?”

Elias could sense her voice getting excited, “Would you calm down. He hasn’t accepted me yet, so let’s get through Thanksgiving right now before we even speak about Christmas.”

“Relax, he likes you.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I know my father,” Asana giggled, “Did you watch me sleep this morning?”

He remembered how they were talking about this subject just the other day. His lips curled into a wide smile, “Of course,” Elias gave her a light kiss on the lips, “You clutched at the pillow pretty tightly.”

“Aw,” she felt embarrassed, “That’s because my human pillow disappeared on me.”

Jokingly, he replied, “Oh, I see why you are with me now. I’m your personal pillow.”

“A very warm pillow and your arms are like blankets.”

“Okay, I think I have gone from being a pillow to transforming into a bed.”

She laughed, “Hey, you sleep on me too sometimes.”

“Very rarely,” he laughed and held her hand, “Come on, your Mom made us breakfast.”

“Mom!” Asana gasped at the array of spectacular dishes she had made for their private family dinner and the decorations of the table and the dining room, “I told you not to go overboard.”

“I had to,” she cheerfully clapped, “My babies are home and we have a guest. My little girl’s very handsome fiancée.”

Asana blushed at her mother’s over-excited comments as she helped to bring out the plates and bowls of food. There was the mandatory turkey glazed with marmalade and a pot of roasted and steamed vegetables, a casserole of mashed potato garnished with diced bacon and fresh chives, cranberry marinated meatballs and a pot of gravy to serve the whole table.

“Wow, darling,” Owen expressed his astonishment at the amount she had made, “There’s only going to be seven of us,” he joked as he gathered the carving knives and corkscrew for the wine.

“There’s plenty so no one can say they aren’t full by the end of the night,” she added to his joke and gave him a quick kiss, “Go pour the wine.”

At each plate, a single wax candle burned, and the lights above were dimmed to contribute to the relaxing atmosphere for the family dinner. Tobias and Elias were discussing his exhibit in the city next year and agreed to arrange special VIP treatment for Elias and Asana.

“You are welcome to stay at our apartment when you come, or I can set you up at my parents’ home?” Elias offered.

“I wouldn’t want to impose on you and her or your parents.”

“It’s fine,” Elias assured him, “Asana still has her old apartment on lease until it runs out in May next year. You are more than welcome to stay there.”

“Still on lease,” Tobias laughed, “Sis, haven’t you broken your lease yet.”

Asana set cutlery at each table, “Well, we haven’t long since lived with each other. It’s only been seven months,” she answered convincingly that no one questioned it, “We figured I signed up for another six months in case it didn’t work out. It will be the last lease I sign for, so use it up if you want to.”

Her grandfather than asked, “Are you paying for that place?”

“Yes,” Asana said, “It’s only the rent, Grandad. It’s affordable.”

“In that case, you don’t mind?” Tobias asked.

“Of course not,” Asana chuckled, “You’re my brother and we’ll be across the hall.”

As the table was set, the whole family had joined for dinner with Elias again sandwiched between the two siblings and sitting opposite from her grandparents and uncle. Charlotte and Owen taking the two end chairs. There wasn’t really a tradition, just the family together.

“Darling, what are you and Elias planning for Christmas?” Charlotte asked.

“We haven’t really thought about it,” Asana looked over to Elias, “What do you want to do?”

Elias wasn’t sure either, “Would your parents like to come to the city?” he suggested, “Maybe we can organise for our parents to meet?”

“They can stay in my apartment across the hall,” Asana knew where they could stay.

Elias shook his head, “Considering we would have Christmas at the house, they can stay in a guest room at my parents’ house.”

“Won’t that be too…daunting for them?” Asana worried his family home would be too much for her parents to handle and they would get nervous, “Though, before we decide where they would stay,” she turned to her parents, “Would you like to come to the city.”

Charlotte and Owen looked across at each other and to Fred and Edith, “Go, enjoy the city. Fred and I will be fine here with Lucas and Tobias may as well go with you too.”

There was a murmur of anxiety among her parents, “We may as well meet them if our families are going to become connected through their marriage,” Charlotte mentioned across to Owen, “However, I would worry about your father’s reaction to seeing Walter again.”

“We’ll think about it,” Owen said, sharpening the knives to carve the turkey, “For now, let’s enjoy Thanksgiving first before we even think about Christmas.”

Elias welcomed them to the city any time, “You are all welcome to visit us at any time,” he invited, regardless of how often they would visit the city.

Charlotte welcomed his offer, “Thank you, Elias.”

“I once went to the city,” Lucas added, “Went to a business convention to increase sales and learn some marketing techniques.”

Asana knew the story and began laughing at him. Lucas eyed her, “Stop laughing, you,” he playfully warned, “But, I drank a little too much and had to walk back to my hotel. I got lost and ended up in the wrong hotel. Ended up sleeping in the lobby and the concierges rang the police on me. Spent the night in the watch house until I sobered up.”

“Even after he left, he still didn’t know where he was,” Asana laughed, “I had only just moved to the city as well and received a phone call from him, panicking. ‘Asana, Asana, where am I? What hell is this? I can’t find my way,’. That was just before I met you,” Asana recalled.

The reminiscent story earning laughter from around the table as they dished out dinner and sipped on Lucas’ wine. Elias laughed too, “The city is very confusing, even I get lost sometimes.”

“No, you?” Edith didn’t believe him, “You grew up in the city, right?”

Elias nodded, “Which makes it even more sad,” he laughed.

Asana knew the story he was about to share, and everyone listened to him.

“When I was a child, my brothers and I often travelled by limousine or by our mother in our sedan. I knew where locations were, though I never knew how to get to them. So, when I received my driver’s license, and I drove everywhere, I often got lost. I remember I was at my music practice and after that I had to go to a restaurant to celebrate my brother’s graduation. It took me an hour and twenty minutes to find where I was supposed to go from where I was. Now, the smartest option would have been to use my GPS, but I called my father asked him for directions. The restaurant we were supposed to go to was two streets over from where I was, but I had ended up nearly on the other side of the city.”

They all shared a laugh, “So you see, I grew up in the city and I still get lost too.”

“Same with me,” Asana giggled, “I was hopeless when I first arrived in the city.”

“Could imagine,” Tobias agreed, “She still gets lost around Wiley City half the time.”

“Talk about making first bad impressions though,” Asana giggled.

Elias wondered which story she would bring up, “Which one, you have a few to tell. You want to know how we ended up speaking to each other?”

Asana begged him not to tell them, “No, don’t tell them. It’s so embarrassing!”

“Oh, I’m telling them,” Elias wasn’t backing out of the story.

“Oh, please, tell us,” Edith was interested too, “Is this at the bookstore?”

“No, it was before that,” Elias remembered the day very well, “You remember how I told you all that my brother is a junior lecturer at the same university Asana and I attend?”

They all nodded, “Of course,” Charlotte spoke as did Edith and Tobias.

Hiding her embarrassed red cheeks and pink smile behind her hands, Elias continued to tell them the story of how they had got off on the wrong foot, “My brother and I don’t look that different, but we are certainly different attitude wise. He can be much more meaner and strict, in a good way though. Anyway, they both were not watching where they were going….”

“I was reading a magazine off my phone where Tobias’ photos had been published and Klaus was reading a book for one of his upcoming lectures. He was heading out of the café as I was going in, and we just collided. He had a cup of hot tea and some muffins. Nothing like hot tea drenching my shirt along with chocolate stains,” there was a round of laughter, “He gave me quite the lecture and didn’t even assume any responsibility for his role in that happening.”

“You’re such a klutz,” Owen laughed at her affectionately.

Elias continued with the story, “It gets worse,” he prompted, and they listened, “I met with my brother after that had happened, not even knowing who she was. All I knew was he was in a bad mood and complained that people should be watching where they were going. Yet, I was to discover the young lady he bumped into was also my new neighbour. After a long day of dealing with a grumpy brother, also getting my ears lectured off by my parents and sitting in a two-hour exam, I returned home and started getting yelled at by Asana because she thought I was my brother,” he paused and looked over at her with the family laughing.

“Hey, if you ever saw Klaus you would forgive me for mixing them up,” Asana defended her actions, “All I saw was the same gold locks and violet eyes. I was grumpy too and decided if I saw that guy again, he’d get a piece of my mind too.”

Fred even chuckled at the story, “Oh, Asana. I can’t even imagine what you said to him thinking he was his brother.”

“She called me rude, mean, cold and a big bully,” Elias recalled.

“I wasn’t calling you that,” Asana’s cheeks were bright red.

“Look how red she is,” Charlotte teased her, “I suppose this misunderstanding is what started this relationship?”

Asana nodded, “I can’t regret it, now can I.”

“When did you figure out he was not his brother?” Tobias questioned.

“After I gave him a piece of my mind,” Asana remembered it well, “He sighed, and was like ‘you must be the girl who put my brother in a sour mood. Thanks to you, I had to deal with him.’ For a moment, I had to take a step back and then realised there were physical differences. He introduced himself as Elias Goldstein, and the man I had walked into was his older brother, Klaus. I was mortified and embarrassed, not only did I tell off the wrong person but the person I wanted to yell at was a Goldstein.”

“She quickly ran inside her room and avoided me for weeks,” Elias laughed, “We usually left for class at the same time. She would either peep through her door until I left, or we would walk down together in complete silence.”

“Hey, you noticed that?” Asana pinched him.

“You made it obvious,” Elias chuckled.

“You could have made me feel less embarrassed by that situation, you know.”

“I had some random girl yell at me,” Elias corrected her, “I was just minding my own business and got dragged into it by you and Klaus.”

“We didn’t get off on the right off, as you can tell,” Asana chuckled.

Edith proudly smiled at their story, “That’s a very cute story and a very Asana-like thing to do,” she commented with the others around her agreeing it was something Asana would likely do.

“Those first few days of living in the city were my most embarrassing days, I swear,” Asana had made plenty of first bad impressions that she had lost count, “Klaus and I are on good terms too now, but there was the incident with my lecturer and plenty of the neighbouring city people.”

Elias thought carefully, “Oh, you mean arriving twenty-five minutes late to Professor Schuyler’s lecture. He’s a tough professor though, so many people tend to steer clear from making him mad.”

“Do you have some classes together?”

“I have applied for some workshops that focus around the legal components of becoming a veterinarian, specifically animal and environmental laws because I want to do what Dad does and rehabilitate wildlife too. Then, the guy who does the workshop suggested I do a short course in animal and environment law. It’s more of an integrated learning where they stick us in the same lecture rooms with students undertaking undergraduate degrees in law.”

“Part of my course structure is covering environmental law and ecological jurisprudence, she attends those lectures as part of her short course,” Elias summed up, “She arrived late to one lecture Professor Schuyler was giving. He’s a very strict professor. If you are not there by the time he is, he will kick you out.”

“That happened to me,” Asana remembered it well, “I said I got lost and his reply was ‘if you can’t read a map, what makes you think you can pass my class’, everyone laughed at me. Thankfully, Elias had the notes from that lecture and I could get them from him.”

“All you need to do now is stop falling asleep in lectures,” Elias reminded her and received another round of laughter from the family.

Owen realised how little his daughter had changed even though she had been living in the city for the past two years. Gauging Elias’ reaction, his eyes were gentle as he spoke about their adventures together. Owen chuckled, “Nothing has changed much then.”

“It is wonderful to hear you two are having fun together,” Lucas commented, “Right, Owen?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “Though, how did you make a bad impression on the city. That was the other thing you said. Please tell me you didn’t make the news or something for the wrong reasons?”

“No,” Asana giggled, “It’s nothing too huge but I went sightseeing around the city. One of my first locations was this abandoned lighthouse on the cliffs on the far side of the beach. Elias told me the truth about it the other night which is why I now understand why people were giving me a weird look.”

Fred was curious, “Why would you go up there alone?”

“Well, I wanted to see it,” she shrugged, “I never seen a lighthouse before and it was only my second day in the city. The skyscrapers had me amazed so I wanted to see the lighthouse too.”

“There are two,” Elias corrected her, “There’s the current one on the headlands and the one derelict and a haven for junkies and whatever else dangerous. Of course, she went to the abandoned one.”

“I didn’t know it was that bad,” Asana argued with an embarrassed smile.

“Why is it so terrifying?” Charlotte didn’t understand what was so scary about an old lighthouse, “I imagine there are plenty of old buildings in the city that have amazing history.”

“Elias, do tells us,” Edith wanted to hear about it, “Is it a popular tourist spot?”

Elias shook his head, “Good god, no,” he stressed and sipped from his wine, “Now, I am not one for believing in the supernatural or anything but the history there is pretty dark that it makes for a good haunted location for Halloween. There’s a local ghost tour that goes there too but those who grew up in the city know its history.”

“Here comes a good ghost story,” Tobias joked, “Dim the lights and give the man a torch,” he said, drunkenly, “Continue.”

“That’s enough wine for you,” Lucas took Tobias’ glass from him, “He have to hear your adventures yet.”

Charlotte and Edith admonished the boys, “Quiet, Elias please tell us.”

A short round of giggles echoed their interest in the legend surrounding the old lighthouse, “Okay,” Elias began to tell the same legend he had told Asana a few days ago, “Let me start by saying, no one goes up to that lighthouse and it is not recommended as a tourist spot because a lot of illegal activity happens up there or deaths, and it has stayed that way for plenty of decades. So, when Asana was asking for directions to the lighthouse, plenty of people were suspicious of her.”

“Oh goodness,” Owen placed a palm to his head, “Did you not realise this sooner?” he asked his daughter.

“I was curious,” she shrugged.

Elias continued, “Anyway. So, picture the kinds of lighthouses you see in horror films. It most likely is the same lighthouse used in those films, anyway,” he figured, “It has a very steep cliff overlooking the ocean and the jaggered rock pools below.”

“One of those creepy places,” Fred understood.

“Exactly,” Elias continued, “In 1878, a ship carrying navy men collided with the rocks in rough seas. Twelve sailors were killed on impact. There is a legend the ghosts of those twelve sailors still linger around the lighthouse and they lure people to the cliff’s edge. In 1907, nine people died by falling off the cliff after hearing cries for help and hearing a loud crash of a boat colliding with the rocks below. Between 1907 and now, a further twenty people have died after falling off the cliff. The lighthouse was officially closed in 1908 because of the amount of deaths that were occurring around it, it is listed as a heritage site but was become derelict building amongst the vegetation since no one goes up there.”

“Sounds creepy,” Charlotte wriggled the shivers from her body, “Asana, why would you want to go up there?”

“I didn’t know this at the time,” she defended her actions.

Elias continued, “I don’t believe in ghost stories but when I was in high school, plenty of kids used to go up there on Halloween and try to either prove or disprove the legend of the sailor ghosts.”

“Is it true?” Lucas was curious.

“No, of course not,” Elias chuckled, “The building is visited by no one because it is just a creepy old building now. The only people who go up there are those who want the privacy. There is a slight mafia problem in the city and they have been known to do deals up there, junkies and homeless people use the place to get high or to sleep and it used to be the old make-out point during the fifties and sixties. All those people who fell off the edge of the cliff were treated as suicide, murder or accidental death. Asana is about the only person I have ever heard of going up there for a tourist drive, other tourists go to the current lighthouse on the headlands. There is a museum there for the city’s maritime history to deter people from going up to the cliff.”

“Asana,” Tobias cracked up laughing with tears spilling from his eyes.

Owen joined in laughing at her, “No wonder why people thought you were suspicious.”

“After I left, the police rolled up there and asked me a few questions,” Asana laughed at the memory, “They gave me the dumbest look ever and I just said that I wasn’t from the city and had come to down to study at the university. I wonder how many people in the street thought I was going to jump off the cliff or something. After Elias told me this the other day, I felt like such an idiot.”

“There are plenty of cute stories I could tell them of your adventures in the city,” Elias teased her.

“Don’t you dare!” she covered his mouth with her hand.

Fred shook his head while laughing at her, “Elias, thank god she has you now.”

“Second that,” Lucas agreed, “Stop getting yourself into trouble, Asana.”

“I was excited about being in a new place,” Asana protested cheerfully.

Owen was now grateful she had someone she could trust, “After hearing about you going to a dangerous location and nearly being hurt after walking home late by yourself, I’m grateful Elias is in your life.”

“I can’t tell you how many times I have lectured her about being aware of her surroundings,” Elias added, “I keep telling her the city is not the country. Kind of how you should watch for dangerous animals out here, you must keep watch on dangerous people in the city.”

Asana added, “I don’t just have Elias. Sometimes his brother will take me back to our apartment if Elias can’t. Or, Yukiya and Luca if they are heading to work. Yukiya works not far from us and Luca lives just down the street in the student housing. So, I’m not short on people who I have around me now.”

Elias could trust Yukiya since he was a good friend and Asana met him through classes since they were completing the same degree, except he was going for a double degree in arts and veterinary science. Luca, though, they had gone to the same high school and never got along, “Well, Luca’s a different story.”

“Why can’t you admit you are friends?”

“Because.”

“Why?” Asana giggled.

“He always finds a reason to make me not like him,” Elias replied.

“Yet, you would do anything for each other,” Asana added.

“Would not,” Elias denied it, “I wish you would be careful around him too. You aren’t even aware of how many guys around campus like you. Like when we had the university dance party, remember?”

Asana didn’t know what he was getting at and tilted her head at him, “All the guys who asked you to be their date,” Elias jogged her memory.

“Oh,” she remembered the several messages from other guys who had asked her to the dance, “…Well…,” she didn’t have an answer for him.

“I wish you were more aware of how attractive you are,” Elias sighed, “This is why I can’t let you out of my sight. I trust you, I just don’t trust other men.”

Asana blushed, realising what he had just admitted to in front of her family, “H-Hey, d-don’t say things like that in front of my family,” she shyly protested.

It was their usual habit of entering their own world and conversation. The world around them faded and all they saw was each other. Charlotte gave a happy look over at Owen, who only rolled his eyes at her with a grin he couldn’t hide. As they were digging into their meals, it was time for Tobias to tell them of his adventures too.

“Where did you go to this year?” Fred asked him, “You have plenty of photos I hope?”

Tobias nodded, “I have a slideshow to share,” he announced, “I will play it after we’ve eaten but I went to the artic and lived in the jungles of Africa for a while. Working, this time, I swear,” he joked.

“I spent one year in the artic with a team of researchers evaluating polar bear populations, the availability and accessibility of food and the like, even went underwater in the ice to capture ochre whales up close.”

Charlotte placed a hand over her heart, “If there is one thing I’m thankful for this year, it is having Tobias safely home. Though, after hearing Asana’s adventures in the city, glad she’s safe too.”

“Well, I nearly died,” Tobias revealed a nasty scar across his lower leg, “Spent four months in hospital from being attacked by a polar bear. Tore some ligament and damaged some muscles but I’m alive. If anyone is wondering, no the polar bear was not shot but tranquilised.”

Charlotte felt like she could faint and wacked her son around the head, “Tobias James Way, why weren’t we notified of this?!” she demanded to know, her soft and gentle voice changing to that firm voice they were familiar with when they were kids.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” Tobias hugged her, “I’m alive though. You would’ve been notified if I was dead.”

Charlotte’s eyes narrowed at him and Asana laughed, “See, who’s the good child now.”

“Tobias, please,” Owen pleaded to his son, “Don’t patronise your mother. We worry about you whenever you go abroad because we know you are entering a dangerous world. Do you have your life insurance all up to date?”

“I know, I was just trying to lighten the mood,” Tobias hugged his mother, “Sorry Mom. You know I would call you if it was something serious.”

“That was serious!” she lectured him, “You could have been killed by that bear.”

“I know, but we were trying to help him,” Tobias explained how he ended up in that position, “Aside from the scarce food sources endangering the polar bear, we set out to investigate if there are any other causes affecting polar bears which is spiralling them towards extinction. When he found him, he was aggressive but then we realised he was limping badly. He had a hook in his foot, we had tranquilised him, but he woke up halfway through our operation. That’s how I got attacked.”

Asana assumed his next publication was about his research into polar bears, “Are they the subject of your next paper?”

“Polar bears?”

She nodded, “I would love a copy, so I can read it.”

“Already printed yours off,” Tobias promised, “It’s in my room. I just have to give it to you and I got one for Dad too. It will be published in the next issue of the Wildlife and Ecology Journal.”

What followed was a long summary of his findings not just into his adventures in the arctic but also in the jungles of Africa and east towards India where he followed the adaption of tiger families and leopards in their fight for survival, “I received permission from the government to set up cameras around Indian villages to film the night time behaviour of leopards living next to humans. I can’t wait to show you all what I found, it’s remarkably scary.”

“You kids certainly are having plenty of fun,” Lucas admired their adventures.

“We need Erica and Andrew to have everyone together,” Charlotte added, “Have you heard from them, Lucas?”

He nodded and showed them a postcard he had received the other day, “This postcard arrived just the other day from Egypt,” he showed them a photograph of the two riding camels on the edge of the Sahara Desert with the pyramids in the background, “She looks very happy. Olivia did always tell her to travel young.”

“They have the travel bug,” Edith laughed as Fred handed her the photograph to look at as the family passed it around, “I remember going here before you boys and your sister were born. Fred and I were very young then but such an amazing view, especially at twilight. Asana, you and Elias should travel too.”

They had discussed travelling with each other once their studies were completed. Earmarking Europe, Africa and Australia as their first destinations during their break between receiving their graduate degrees and commencing higher studies. Asana received the photograph from her father and peered at it together with Elias, “It does look romantic,” she mentioned to him, “I should get Erica to give us the low down of her experience.”

“I would love to visit the pyramids sometime in my life,” Elias agreed, “My parents have travelled to Cairo, even my mother recommended it.”

“I want to go to Tahiti too,” Asana smiled, “I’ve always wanted to sleep in a bungalow in the middle of the ocean.”

“Honeymoon destination?” Elias asked her.

“Tahiti or Cairo?”

“I will go wherever you want to go.”

Asana gave him a troubled look, “That’s not fair if I’m choosing where to go for our honeymoon. It’s our special holiday, we have to decide together,” she passed the photograph onto her brother and received the postcard that came with it.

“Oh, look,” Asana pointed to the small writing she knew was her cousin’s and giggled, “Sorry I’m not there to meet Asana’s fiancée, from what I heard from her he sounds amazing. Hopefully, we will meet each other soon. Welcome to the family, Elias.”

“Were you one of her bridesmaids?” Elias asked.

“No,” Asana shook her head, “They didn’t have any best men or bridesmaids.”

“Well, when we get married I have three girls to choose from,” Asana said, “There’s Erica, Elaine and Amelia. Are you going to ask your brothers to be your best men?”

“Maybe,” Elias worried Klaus would do something to embarrass him, “Whether or not I can trust Klaus not to tease me is another thing. I would ask him to be my groomsman, but I have a feeling he would not help me relax. But, three works. I have my two brothers and there’s your brother.”

Asana passed the postcard onto her brother and just as there was a knock on the front door of the home. Everyone’s eyes lifted up from their plates and Owen tilted his head, “We weren’t expecting anyone else to join us, right?”

“I don’t think so,” Charlotte rose from her chair to investigate who would be at the door.

Elias looked out of the window behind him and could see the same silver car Marcus had used yesterday when he assaulted Fred in the snow. Reaching for his phone, he found the number he was looking for and there was an immediate answer, “Greg. Dad gave you the address?”

“He did,” a deep voice on the other end of the phone replied.

Leaving everyone clueless, Asana only smiled, “Must be him,” she growled, “Let Elias deal with him everyone,” she stressed to her family.

“You are good to go,” Elias gave the green light and hung up the phone.

At the front door, Charlotte asked for him to leave their property, but her strength was not a match for her and he invited himself into the house, “I told you to leave!” Charlotte yelled behind his back as he sauntered into their home to the kitchen.

“Happy Thanksgiving family,” disguised as Aston, Marcus clapped his hands and introduced himself to the rest of the family seated in the dining room. Making himself at home, he sat in Charlotte’s seat, “Even a feast is provided for your new land lord.”

Everyone glared at him as he helped himself to Charlotte’s food and wine and made her stand thinking her seat was his. Elias had remained hidden behind the curtain for a moment as he sent a message to his father and brother and gave directions to Greg for the federal agents to arrive. He could see what Aston was doing and it irritated him.

“So, Fred and Lucas, I see my contracts are not signed,” Aston crackled and then frowned, “Why? I warned you before if they weren’t signed by today, you would regret it. I will make your businesses suffer.”

“They aren’t signed because we aren’t selling,” Lucas snatched the glass of wine and plate of food away from him, “How dare you sit down at my sister’s seat and eat her food she cooked for us.”

“Leave,” Owen growled.

Marcus ignored them and meet the glaring eyes of Tobias and Asana, “You must be Tobias, haven’t had the pleasure,” Marcus extended his hand, but Tobias turned away, “No,” Marcus laughed.

He then saw Asana and rose from his chair, “Beauty has a name, Asana. Is it?” Marcus took her hand in his, despite her rejection, “I saw you yesterday cradling your dear old grandfather, but beautiful girls must be greeted kindly,” he went to kiss her hand.

Grabbing her glass of wine, she threw it in his face and regathered her hand, “You are not greeted and should leave this property before my fiancée returns to this table,” she said strongly, her harsh tongue she swore she picked up from him, “You have been nothing but a menace to my family and the community since you arrived here.”

Marcus glared at her and used a napkin to wipe the wine from his brow. He laughed unkindly just as Elias returned to his seat from sending all the necessary messages he had to send to his father and uncle. Elias stepped between Asana and Marcus as Marcus grew agitated with the wine she threw in his face irritating his eyes, “You little…!” with eyes closed he swung a hand but with Elias protecting her, he caught Marcus’ wrist firmly and tightly.

“Do finish whatever you were about to say to my fiancée?” Elias prompted him, his voice cold and terrifying it sent shivers down everyone’s spines, “Please,” his grip tightened.

Opening his eyes, Marcus’s gaze met the ivory skin, reddening at the knuckles, as it restrained his hand and wrist. A brown jacket draped across the man’s shoulders as Marcus’ gaze looked up at the deadly violet eyes and the sadistic, sharp smirk of the man towering above him. Elias was taller than him and stood with much more posture that made him look powerful and intimidating, an art he learnt from his father and brothers.

However, Marcus immediately recognised the bed of golden locks and the piercing violet eyes he had often seen in the courtrooms, “…G-Goldstein?” Marcus stammered, “...What! How?! Fiancée? That…that girl is your fiancée?”

Marcus’ body shivered making Elias smile victoriously, “Not so big now, are you?”

“…She…she’s your fiancée? Impossible!” he growled.

“Her name is Asana and you will refer to her as such,” Elias demanded firmly.

Marcus’ body flinched but he tried to keep up a confident front, “I see now, she paid you to be her fiancée. How desperate are you to get rid of me that you need to pay a Goldstein?”

“Don’t you dare to speak to her like that!” Elias hissed again, “Are you too small of a man you feel bigger by bullying and disrespecting my fiancée and her family? Would you do it before me or are you too afraid?”

Elias pushed him backwards as he let go of his wrist and sent the man to the floor. Marcus had a red mark around his wrist and it hurt when he put pressure on it, “You! You sprained my wrist!”

“That’s quite a statement coming from a coward who injured an elderly veteran,” Elias retorted and then gave him a fair warning, “Also, you are quite lucky I only gave you a sprained wrist after you raised a hand at my fiancée.”

Marcus had remembered his time in jail and the way vicious way Walter had ripped him apart in the courtroom as he represented the widows of the farmers who he had contributed to their suicide seek the damages they deserved for his intrusiveness. With Elias bearing down on him, he did not have the bluffing or the power to withstand the might of the Goldstein power.

Regathering his feet, Elias stood his ground and walked closer to Marcus making him back step until his back hit the wall. Putting a hand against the wall, Elias smiled as he shivered in fear, “Any person who disrespects my fiancée’s family through threats and bullying has disrespected her,” Elias growled in a deep voice.

Marcus eyes were wide, and he apologised very quickly, “I…h-had no idea she was your fiancée,” he felt tears threatening to leave his eyes, “I will leave this village and I will never bother her family again. You have my word.”

Owen and Fred had to smile as the man who had been giving them headaches was finally put in his place, Lucas clapping quietly and laughing, “What’s the matter with you Aston, are you no match for a Goldstein.”  

Elias had to chuckle, “Tell me, how does it feel to know you are powerless? Unable to control me like you have tried to control this town, bullying them, threatening them and harassing them, bringing them nothing but pain, so you can con them, leave them broke and with no place to live. Just like you have done to others in the past. Marcus.”

Fred and Lucas looked at each other, “Marcus. His name’s Bradley, right?”

Asana shook her head, “It’s Marcus. He’s a con man who has been convicted of fraud, embezzlement, tax evasion and illegal funding of overseas organisations in the past. He is repeating his own crimes thinking he wouldn’t get caught. That’s why Elias didn’t do anything yesterday, otherwise he would just move onto the next town.”

Edith enjoyed this too much and Charlotte smiled as the man experienced karma in the form of Elias. Marcus panicked but Elias didn’t care, “You are not a man, you are a coward, just another piece of scumbag dirt, a pest to humanity. This is what is going to happen right now.”

Marcus felt the cold tears stream down his face at the harsh words which spilled from Elias’ mouth, fiercely. “Anything,” Marcus would agree without a fight, “Please, don’t let me go back to prison!”

“That’s not my call,” Elias said, “Not that I care about you. Why you would repeat the offences you were convicted of in the first place has me puzzled but I am sure the prison guards would love to have you back for a longer stay this time. Before you do leave, however, you will apologise to my fiancée and her family. First, my mother-in-law. Get on your knees and be sincere with your apology.”

“Her mother?”

Elias turned his chin to gaze at Charlotte still standing by the door way, “This kind and gentle woman has gone without seeing her children for two years. She cooked an amazing dinner, which you then, uninvited, thought was your right to steal food from her plate and drink from her wine, ruining this dinner she had waited so long for. Apologise, now!”

Marcus bowed his head to Charlotte, “…I…I am sorry,” he had tears spilling from his eyes.

“To Fred and Edith,” Elias turned the man’s head again and made him looked the elderly man in the eyes, “He is a war veteran and his family have been the life and blood of this town through their farming. In your attempt to rob them of their land, you have caused them great stress, harassed them and even injured Fred’s wrist, preventing him from tending to his farming duties,” Elias grabbed the contract, but had already copied the pages to present it as evidence in court and ripped it to pieces, “All for an illegal and unlawful contract that is now being sent to my Uncle, my father and the federal agents to be used as evidence against you.”

Marcus watched his scheme fall to pieces in the contract Elias tore and began crying under his tough gaze, “…I’m sorry, I’m very sorry!”

“To Lucas,” Elias turned his chin upwards, “Do you have any idea what his winery means to him? What about to the breast cancer researchers who receive a generous donation from his Olivia’s Hills Wine? His winery is not just a business to him, it his wife’s legacy. You destroyed a vine of grapes right at harvest, damaging his production this year, not by much of course, but enough to make any hard-working farmer as mad as hell. What kind of sickening pleasure did you get from doing that? Can’t forget about how you traumatised an employee trying to force her to forge his signature.”

Marcus bowed his head and was beginning to lose control of his emotions as he faced the reality of where this would end up, “I’m sorry!” he screamed and stood up to Elias, “You have any idea how much money I have lost because of your family! I had no choice but to con people again if I was to pay those widows!”

“My father knew you couldn’t pay the difference,” Elias snapped back, “He asked my mother and sister to create a foundation specifically for those women and their families to assist them back onto their feet after the damage you caused! Father would have hoped this would have taught you a lesson, and why should you have a right to live your life happily when those farmers lost their lives and their homes with their families still suffering because of what you did to them. I will not allow you to inflict the same damage on the kind people of this town or any other.”

Elias gaze was strong and down the road he could see the lights of the federal police and hear the helicopter cutting through the air above. Marcus looked out the window and could see the shining black cars and federal agents block off the front and back doors. “No! No! You!”

“Next time, think twice before you pretend to parade yourself as a man with power,” Elias lectured the panicked man before him, “My name is powerful enough to command the federal police to come here to arrest you, to have my Uncle prosecute your case and have my father convince the rest of the legal community to not represent you.”

“You…you don’t have that kind of power,” Marcus panicked.

“See for yourself, you can see the police out there,” Elias proved it to him. “Lastly, there is one apology you need to make before you leave.”

Marcus turned around to Elias, “…W-Who?”

“Asana,” Elias demanded, “Don’t apologise to her and I will make sure the police give you no mercy out of here.”

Marcus paused for a moment, hoping Elias would let him go soon until the police arrested him but the longer he waited the more he realised the police were waiting on Elias’ command. He wasn’t lying that the men outside were answering to a man with much more power than he could ever hold.

Shyly, Marcus kneeled before Asana and he looked her in the eye, “…Miss Way…,” he began his apology that would satisfy Elias, “…I-I apologise…for the pain I have caused you, your family and your community. If my…actions have offended you, I sincerely apologise.”

Elias accepted the apology at Asana’s approval and said one last thing. “Marcus,” he called the man’s attention, “Heed my warning very clearly, my fiancée’s family is mine too. If you ever return to Reitz and cause trouble for this family or community again, I will have you muck their stables for the rest of your life. It is not wise to test me because my patience for criminals like you is thin.”  

Bowing his head shamefully, Marcus replied, “Don’t worry, I will never return here.”

“Good answer,” Elias commented and called out to the police outside, “Agent Greg Cameron.”

Police with guns and vests entered the house on Elias’ call, “Mr Goldstein, thank you for your cooperation in our investigation,” he shook hands with him and allowed other agents in to arrest Marcus, “Marcus Harrington Junior, I am arresting you for multiple charges including counts of fraud, money laundering and embezzlement and tax evasion as well as illegal foreign investments, among other charges. You are not obliged to say anything at this point but whatever you do say will be used in evidence in a court of law, you have the right to legal representation. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Marcus’ tone meant that he gave up and let the police take him without much fight, “Well played, Goldstein,” he muttered as he passed Elias.

Greg turned to Elias, “You have all the files we need?”

“Dad has already sent them to you,” Elias informed him but reached into his pocket, “Though, I have also been keeping a backup file just in case,” he handed the flash stick over to Greg, “Thanks for doing this.”

“Hey, it’s the least I can do after your father and family helped me out that time,” Greg smiled at him and bowed to Asana, “Miss Way, it’s a pleasure to help your kind community.”

“You were here the entire time?”

“Well, since yesterday,” Greg answered, “I have been staying in the inn in town. Lovely town.”

Asana thanked him, “Do you like wine?”

“I like a glass or two,” Greg smiled.

“Here,” she handed him an unopened bottle off the table, “As gratitude for helping us.”

Greg accepted the generous offer and smiled over to Elias, “Don’t let her go, kid. She’s keeper, thank you for the bottle. I’ll share it with the boys for Thanksgiving.”

As quickly as they came, the police left, and Asana jumped into Elias’ arms, “Thank you,” she kissed him, “You have no idea how much that meant to everyone here.”

Fred scratched his head and Lucas was too astonished to speak, “…Well, he has my vote to marry Asana,” Fred broke the silence.

Edith nudged Owen, “You have to accept him now.”

“How did you manage to have the federal police under your command?” Tobias wondered, “I’m confused as to what just happened?”

Owen rose from his chair and cleared Charlotte’s plate and wine glass for her and offered a new plate and glass for her to continue eating dinner, “Here darling, free from whatever filth he had on his fingers.”

“Thank you,” Charlotte sat at her seat again, “Let’s just thank Elias and put this behind us now. Elias fulfilled his promise and it’s stress off our shoulders.”

Elias and Asana reclaimed their seats and Lucas extended his hand, “You sure showed him. Never seen him shiver like that all the time he had been here.”

Shaking his hand, Elias felt happy that he could help them, “I am happy I could help. After learning about your community and the family farms, I realised how special your homes are to you and to Asana. If ever you need legal help, don’t hesitate to call me. We are becoming family, right?”

Edith nodded, “You are more than welcomed into our family, Elias.”

“I had my doubts about you,” Fred added but after what he had seen, he had nothing left to doubt, “I’m happy you stood up for my granddaughter. I don’t think I have anything left to doubt about you now. Welcome to the family,” he extended Elias a handshake.

“Thank you, sir,” Elias returned the gesture, “I will always protect her, I promise.”

“I accepted him from the start,” Tobias cheered, “My sister did something worthy of praise.”

“More than what you could ever achieve,” Asana retorted cheekily.

Charlotte looked over to Owen, “You know how I feel about him. I entrust to him our daughter’s heart,” she searched him for a response and suddenly all eyes were on Owen.

A long silence ensued as Owen tried his hardest to find a reason not to accept Elias, but he couldn’t find a reason. After bonding with him yesterday, he knew Elias wasn’t a bad person and now he had fulfilled his promise of dealing with Marcus. Owen downed his entire glass of wine in one gulp, “I did promise,” Owen extended his hand to Elias, “Be warned, hurt my daughter and I don’t care how powerful you are. I have rifles and an ex-military gunner for a father who taught me his tricks.”

Elias accepted the handshake, “That gun might get rusty, sir, because I am never going to hurt her,” Elias promised.

Owen was suddenly wrapped up in a huge hug with a pair of arms that nearly choked him, “Thank you, Daddy!” she almost knocked him off his chair, “You have two sons now.”

“Don’t…don’t get carried away,” Owen blushed slightly, “I never said he could start calling me dad. I just accept him as the man you have chosen to build a future with. That’s all.”

Tobias leaned over to whisper to Elias, “He’s stubborn. That’s the closest you are going to get to him admitting he likes you and that he trusts you with Asana.”

“Well, I am happy to have his blessing and acceptance,” Elias smiled.

Asana took her seat again and couldn’t hide her wide smile after her father finally accepted Elias. Under the table, she discreetly took hold of his hand and laced her fingers through his and couldn’t wait for whatever their future held. For now, the incident with Marcus was put in the past as they went into the living room after dinner and desert to watch Tobias’ two years’ worth of photos and videos of his adventures across the world. Asana having to explain most of the complicated language they used in animal studies, medicine and science to Elias.

As they went to bed that night, Asana gazed at him, overwhelmed by emotions of love for him. She was convinced she had fallen more in love with him and kissed his lips gently as he rested his eyes, “I love you, Elias.” 

He gentle touch and sweet voice reached his ears and he smiled as he reciprocated her kiss, passionately, “I love you too,” he whispered and kissed her lips again. 

“I know it is against your rule,” she wanted to make love to him as a reward for all he had done to help her family, “I really want you to know how much I appreciate what you did for them. Please.” 

Elias wrapped his arms around her and pulled her body closer, “Do you know how long it took me to gain your father’s acceptance?” he reminded her but kissed her lips, “We’ll return home the day after tomorrow and I don’t plan on taking it easy on you. This will have to satisfy you for now,” he kept her close to his side and continued to cuddle her and kiss her passionately until they were both exhausted. 

[georgiasreserchproject]

Moving Forward

Feedback:

Kiaora Georgia. This is a well-researched document for an exciting project . There are some lovely visual moments in the work but the framing of the project is, at times, getting unnecessarily overcomplicated which is getting in the way. This is partly due to some of your research relating to international contexts and your initial framing being quite wide in terms of definitions. At this point, it just needs some simplification and its time to let the complications drop away. I like your idea of the difference in urban and regional rhythms as a key aspect shaping the project -- and that time is defined differently in regional land-based industries ( eg. the time it takes for things to grow vs the time that one might sit in traffic on the way to work! ) I think identifying seasons and rhythms in the viticulture production world ( from grapes to wine ) and the time that each stage takes would be an important next step. The Church on your site is also associated with specific rhythms related to life and these could be connected with the rhythms of nature and seasonal cycles in grape production. Some lovely potential in here and your site drawing incorporating the church and its deconstructed elements are lovely. Be clear that this project is now an engagement between a regional destination (viticulture businesses and an urban audience). How is the space you are designing different from current offerings in order to produce the level of participation and connected experience that you are seeking and intending to advance? Find the spatial purpose for the community and visitor (is this your participatory/education/plus tasting space and activities?) as a way to produce the stated rhythmic disruptions/alternatives (?). See my comments on your PDF as well. Best wishes for the project next semester.

Next Steps:

Simplify ideas and processes 

What does the community of Martinborough need, make this clear e.g (is this your participatory/education/plus tasting space and activities

Define/explore how this vinyard will stand out.

It is now an engagement between a regional destination (viticulture businesses and an urban audience)

Explore the rythyms of the vines and the seasons, mapping?

Explore the rythyms of the church in life and what patterns emerge? Journey map. 

What will the stated rhythmic disruptions/alternatives look like.

[mastcomm]

This New Hudson Yards Restaurant Is Better Than It Should Be

Morbid curiosity along with a bit of masochism drew me back to Hudson Yards. Many of the restaurants that have been built there have seemed cursed on one level or another, but the latest one sounded uniquely inauspicious, starting with its timing. It opened in November — the 13th of November.

The Tavern by WS, as it’s called, faces west on 11th Avenue, offering a last nostalgic glimpse of the West Side railyards before they vanish beneath the second phase of Hudson Yards. (Yes, there’s going to be a second phase.) This winter, the restaurant’s front door has seemed like the most ferociously wind-battered part of the whole site, no small distinction. It’s such a forsaken spot that even the helpful greeters who roam the barren tundra between the buildings giving directions to despondent tourists stare blankly when you say you’re looking for the Tavern by WS.

Then again, it might be the name. To repeat, it’s called the Tavern by WS. If my instinct didn’t already tell me to beware of restaurants with bylines, past experience would. But an initials-only byline is even more suspect.

Who is this W.S., and why would he, she or they hide behind first letters? Is it Willie Sutton, the succinct bank robber? Will Shortz, the world’s only academically accredited puzzle master? Walter Slezak, the Austrian-born character actor? Watermelon Slim, the pseudonymous harmonica player? Wallace Shawn? Wayne Shorter? Whit Stillman? Wanda Sykes?

I won’t get your hopes up any further, because the real WS isn’t a person at all. The initials turn out to stand for Wine Spectator, a magazine whose publisher, Marvin R. Shanken, owns the restaurant together with Steven M. Ross, the developer responsible for Hudson Yards, and Kenneth A. Himmel, another developer, who built the mall across the tundra where David Chang and José Andrés have their restaurants.

Wine Spectator is probably best known for assigning scores to wines on a 100-point scale. Numbers in the 90s can be seen in screaming boldface print on “shelf talkers,” those hanging sales pitches that dangle in liquor-store aisles like socks on a clothesline. The notion that a drink produced by sunshine, rain, dirt, vines and yeast can be judged by how close it comes to perfection, signified by a 100 score, never made much sense. Now that many drinkers are turning to quirky, imperfect wines, the Wine Spectator’s numerals seem like artifacts from an earlier time.

Perhaps this is why the Tavern by WS looks as if its designer, Rockwell Group, finished all its drawings for the dining room around 1999, lost them, rediscovered them last year and decided they were still good to go.

The interior’s most prominent features are the wine walls. There’s one by the host’s desk, two behind the bar and more on a mezzanine that seems to have no other purpose. And catwalks, too, because what use is a wine wall without a catwalk? All that’s missing to complete the Vegas-in-the-Clinton-era theme are women in bodysuits zipping up and down on cables to collect a Screaming Eagle here, a Harlan Estate there.

For a magazine whose current issue has such cover lines as “Bordeaux 2017: What to Buy” and “2017: Another Great Vintage” (that one is about Oregon pinot noir), these walls seem almost inevitable. Any magazine like Wine Spectator is going to promote wine as a status symbol; this just turns the idea into architecture.

The Tavern by WS is very nearly another case of an aging brand getting funky on the dance floor to prove that the old man’s still got it. But somewhere in an unseen kitchen behind those walls, a brigade of cooks is working like crazy to keep that from happening.

They’re led by Eli Kaimeh, who worked for Thomas Keller for 13 years, ultimately as chef de cuisine at Per Se. He was there in 2015, when I reviewed the restaurant, and the cooking seemed to have lost its conviction. At this new restaurant, though, he has a clear sense of what he wants to do and how to do it. The menu is a laundry list of routine American restaurant dishes like grilled salmon, but they’re almost all made over in ways that improve them without becoming excessively fiddly, a fate that is never far away in Mr. Keller’s restaurants. Mr. Kaimeh has helped turn the Tavern by WS into a good restaurant, despite its owners’ efforts to make it look like the opposite.

The minestrone has tiny pasta tubes, two types of shell bean, two types of string beans and miniature fried croutons that stay crisp as they float on the surface of very pure and sweet tomato soup. Excellent olive oil has been spilled on top. This minestrone has been cleaned up in too many ways to count, but it still tastes like honest vegetable soup.

The Caesar salad looks like a cross-section of an iceberg-lettuce head, which it essentially is, except that every leaf inside it has been somehow painted with a gratifyingly sharp Caesar dressing. The top is golden with toasted chips of Parmesan bread crumbs and grated Parmesan; crisscrossed over this are two anchovies, battered and deep-fried, fish-and-chips style. I have tried telling myself I won’t eat the anchovies first, but I always do.

The single slab of Nueske’s bacon would be worth ordering even if it didn’t come with a subtly upgraded spinach salad. (The walnuts are freshly toasted and the shallots are fried.) Lobster ravioli may be a little overcomplicated, but who will complain when the complications include lobster inside the ravioli, outside the ravioli and in the brandy-spiked sauce Américaine?

Although he spent a decade cooking tasting-menu portions, Mr. Kaimeh has a knack for making main courses that are big without being boring. Sea bass gets an herb crust and a really lively vinaigrette of chopped green and black olives. The skin on spatchcocked chicken is good and crunchy, and the sauce suprême tastes a bit like skin itself, or at least like the golden drippings on a Sunday roast. A lamb shoulder is braised until it simultaneously holds its shape and falls to pieces; it has enough flavor to make up for the somewhat blah heap of cavatelli, which might also be helped by another big spoonful of gremolata.

Some stunts backfire. The cucumber jelly shards crumbled over salmon rillettes have a slight back-of-the-fridge taste, and one of the few vegetarian dishes is also one of the few things worth steering clear of: a whole honeynut squash that seems to have had brown butter pumped into it.

Stephen Collucci, the pastry chef, treats American desserts affectionately but not indulgently. If a better crust can be supplied, it will be, as with the very thin and crunchy Graham cracker layer under the coconut cream pie, or the tender shortbread holding the excellent lemon meringue tart in one piece. I don’t know what to make of the crunchy, underbaked apples in apple pie, but I know that I’d skip it next time in favor of whatever doughnut has captured Mr. Collucci’s imagination at the moment.

His department also makes the gluten-free bread, which you might want to ask for even if you eat gluten. You will get long golden ingots of rosemary cornbread, or something very like it, and they will be wonderful.

Michaël Engelmann, who is in charge of alcohol, put together a robust wine list, closing in on 400 choices. Wisely, he doesn’t treat the document as the Wine Spectator’s greatest hits. It’s got a few much-hyped names, but the large number of bottles for under $100 is really something, and nowhere on the list will you see a point score.

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[courteneyyeoellpom]

Songwriting & Context Set Task 1: Re-working poetry into lyrics

My Chosen Poem: Don't Tell the World that You're Waiting For Me- Eliza Cook

Three summers have gone since the first time we met, love,

And still 'tis in vain that I ask thee to wed ;

I hear no reply but a gentle " Not yet, love,"

With a smile of your lip, and a shake of your head.

Ah ! how oft have I whispered, how oft have I sued thee,

And breathed my soul's question of " When shall it be ?"

You know, dear, how long and how truly I've wooed thee,

So don't tell the world that you're waiting for me.

I have fashioned a home, where the fairies might dwell, love,

I've planted the myrtle, the rose, and the vine ;

But the cottage to me is a mere hermit's cell, love,

And the bloom will be dull till the flowers are thine.

I've a ring of bright gold, which I gaze on when lonely,

And sigh with Hope's eloquence, " When will it be ?"

There needs but thy " Yes," love--one little word only,

So don't tell the world that you're waiting for me.

Poem Analysis

‘Don’t Tell The World That You’re Waiting For Me’ by Eliza Cook, tells the story of two lovers who have been together for over three years ‘three summers have gone since the first time we met’. The male character has tried to propose ’tis in vain that I ask thee to wed’ but his lover keeps telling him to wait ‘Not yet, love’. This poem describes how frustrating he finds it waiting for her answer, and how he can’t be happy until she says yes ‘the bloom will be dull till the flowers are thine’. But whilst he struggles, he never loses hope in his love ‘and sigh with Hope's eloquence’.

Whilst its not clear that this poem in narrated by the male character, the language used suggests that this is told from a male perspective. For example the word woo which is used in the line ‘how long and how truly I've wooed thee’, is defined as ‘trying to gain the love of (a woman), especially with a view to marriage’. The narrator also describes building a home for the couple ‘I have fashioned a home’ which at the time the poem was written, would be considered the man’s responsibility.

The Writing Process

I started the writing process by thinking about what style of song would best fit the storyline. To me this was indie folk, which often encompasses themes of love/heartache and addresses this in a poetical manner. Inspired by songs such as ‘Siren’ by Fleurie and ‘Bedtime’ by Annie Eve, I wanted to keep the poetic feel, but put this to a more modern and simple structure.

By choosing an ABABB structure, it allows for a bigger focus on the lyrical content of than the arrangement and complexity of the song. This is key when writing a song with such a strong story/narrative. The main focus point of the lyrics was the phrase ‘So don't tell the world that you're waiting for me’ which I shortened to ‘so don’t tell the world you wait for me’, this to me summarised the narrative and therefore was essential to include in the chorus.

I wanted the verses to act as the descriptive part, and the chorus to be left bare and vulnerable. Overcomplicating the chorus would’ve taken away the simple sentiment. However, this needed to be balanced by the verses setting the scene.

I wanted to expand on the themes of the poem by adding more of a questioning element to the story as seen through the lines ‘but if you don’t love me, tell me, you owe me that’. But overall, I really loved the story and didn’t want to stray from it too much.

My Lyrics

verse 1

Summers waste away, your love lingers, but its permanency fades, ‘Not yet love’, you patronise, Oh how I’ve pleaded, keep your promise, as I keep mine

chorus

so don’t tell the world you wait for me, I’d be yours, with one word only

Verse 2

Suspended in your uncertainty Don’t want to hold back, but if you don’t love me, tell me, You owe me that

chorus x2

so don’t tell the world you wait for me, I’d be yours, with one word only

[altermun]

Thursday morning rant

I hardly know where to begin. I am exhausted. I spent time with my parents yesterday, but some of it involved seeing my father’s psychiatrist and discussing issues with him. One solution appears to be writing a letter to my father (whether I send it/give it to him or not is up for debate). I won’t go into all that here though - let’s say it’s an issue I haven’t really broached in full, and I don’t have the psychic strength to do it right now, no matter how heavily it’s weighing on me.

I didn’t have time (okay I had time but I prioritized things badly (kind of)) over the past couple of days to do my homework for stats, even though it’s JUST interpreting a set of data... we have a quiz today in both my statistics class and my class for evidence-based practice and I’m freaking the F out because my brain is a sieve and is refusing to absorb new information - not that EBP is new information, but shoving certain pieces of it into working memory for the quiz IS.

On the bright side I have a leg up on next semester, provided I live through this one, and have gotten a jump on the neuroanatomy we’re going to learn (and in my case re-learn). I still have to shove 20 hours of volunteer work in SOMEWHERE, and I have to write up an interview for Monday, and I HAVE TO CREATE MY POSTER FOR MY PRESENTATION ON 3/10 AND THE ONE FOR 3/30. I’m freaking out about those because I want to get it right and am a dumbass perfectionist, but there IS no “right.” It’s just a poster. That’s IT.

But I also have to figure out how to stay somewhere for a couple nights for the conference, because the two people who were looking at rooming with me dropped out, and I’m stuck on my own.

I’m pissed off, I feel alone, I have negative spoons, and a really, really long day. Please send energy and love if you happen to read this. If you read this, I apologize. 

Also I may have an addiction to Red Vines licorice... And to running.

Oh, that’s a bright side - I’ve started running a bit more regularly. Last run was 5 miles, but it took me FAR too long. We’re talking almost 2 hours. 120 minutes. If I break it down to - well, I can’t really average it accurately because my first 2.5 miles only took me like 35-40 minutes. Still not a 10-minute mile, but yeah. I had to stop a couple times during both laps (I run a path that’s slightly over 2.5 miles and round down to get myself working harder) to walk, or actually stop because my foot was doing a weird, or my calf locked up. The temperature also dropped by like 20 degrees over the course of my - er - course... And by the “5th” mile, I might as well have been walking, I was jogging so slowly... But that was my first time running 5 miles in MONTHS. So I’m giving myself a pass.

That said, my legs are killing me. I need a massage like whoa. Boyfriend will assist this weekend. I also WILL finish the poster before the end of this month and send for it to be printed and mailed to me ASAP... as long as I have it before the 10th, all will be well...

All will be well. I can do this. I’ve done more, I’ve dealt with worse.

That said, I’ve noticed I’m not really improving as quickly as I’d like to with Tempest. I started breaking up the Rachmaninov and drilling/practicing sections of it, but I’m still afraid of the Aggitato middle part. I think I will be afraid of it for awhile, possibly until I can do it with my eyes closed... or at least without looking at the music and double-checking my chords every... uh, chord. Tempest moves, but sometimes I feel like my brain doesn’t want to read both staves, or tries to overcomplicate the bass. I’m like, “Brain. Brain you’re over-correcting again. Brain STAHP.” In the end, the speed of Tempest (at least the Allegretto) is gonna get me. I might actually have to download a metronome app and resign myself to using it. >< Funny enough, my left hand is more solid on the piece than my right. I got lazy practicing my right because, well, I’m right-handed, I should be able to play it fine! Nooooope. Right hand gets sloppy because of less practice. Soon I will download (or just suck it up and buy) a book of etudes for piano - just something else to practice, y’know? To get me up to speed and strength.

Also have to give my kitties credit. Rachmaninov puts them to sleep, even if I’m not using pedals. Siren was curled up against the piano yesterday. Luna loves it when I sing to her, and the music seems to just relax Addie (she is SO big, you guys. I’ll post a picture of her soon...).

Note to self, unrelated: I am in a position to say “no” now. I do not need to be agreeable if it doesn’t suit me. I don’t have to be a bitch, but I don’t have to be quiet anymore. Must remember this. MUST remember this.

And here... we... go... again.