#spleen-nocturne

[grxpfruit]

🩶

[periwinkle8ball]

The Moon.

The one who nourishes, it is the Caretaker.

The Moon is the Lesser Luminary, smaller compared to the Sun and the closest of the planets to Earth. It is the Sun's feminine counterpart. As a Luminary, it rules over the Nocturnal Sect, leading Venus, Mars, and a nocturnal Mercury in a given horoscope.

Elementally, the Moon is the only planet associated with Water, giving it a cooler, introverted demeanor. Though, according to Hellenistic tradition, the Moon is considered to be of hot and wet qualities, making it airy, relational, and quick witted.

The Moon rules only rules the sign of Cancer and exalts in Venus's domicile of Taurus, resulting in the Moon finding the signs of Capricorn (detriment) and Scorpio (fall) challenging.

The Moon joys in the 3rd House, which is what gave that house meaning in the Hellenistic tradition. So keep that in mind when considering the Moon and 3rd House's significations.

(child) birth, conception, the body (and of the body: the left eye, stomach, breasts, breath, spleen, membranes, marrow), biological form, life, the life of a person, the goddess, ruling women, mothers or the nurturing parent, nurses, older siblings, lawful marriage, the home, household matters, possessions, fortune, gains and expenditures, groups of people, cities, (short-distance) travel, boats, sleeping people, dreams, fluctuations, change, variability, growth, death, cyclical processes.

Traditional 3rd House Significations, the Moon’s House of Joy

siblings, friends, relatives and neighbors, short or local traveling, neighborhoods, communities and one’s immediate environment, transportation, communication, mercantile activity, writing, language, speech, dissemination, the goddess, religious observances, sacred rites, dreams and divination.

Significations primarily sourced from Demetra George’s Ancient Astrology in Theory and Practice Volumes 1 and 2 and planet significations spoken of on the Chris Brennan’s The Astrology Podcast.

Disclaimer: Please do not copy, redistribute, alter, or claim this text as your own...

[wakeupandsmellthecarcass]

Lord Lokhraed🖤🗡

[girlactionfigure]

MEORAV YERUSHALMI

LEE KERN

A few weeks back I met a girl and we got on famously and it was about as fine a mental dance as it’s possible to have as we grew hooked on each others minds. But because life is life - and life is always complicated - things didn’t pan out for reasons that wouldn’t stand out in the history of why things don’t work out for people that meet. So I was feeling mopey and also burned out from the war. 

I’m by no means at the epicentre of suffering in this war but fighting for nine months - using my mind and emotions as my weapons - and having to be emotionally unguarded in order to be a good writer - takes its toll and I’ve been slowing down. It’s hard to shovel out the shit at the pace it goes in and there’s a huge backlog of sludge and slime. And who even has the time to deal with their shit when there’s a war on? I keep going because, even after nine months, there aren’t many people on the substitute bench. There’s only a handful of us doing this on instinct - without any support - and some have already dropped out. 

So I was feeling burned out and mopey. For my own health I’d already pivoted my advocacy away from the bleakest stuff as I couldn’t breathe that atmosphere all the time. But I’d been asked to fly to London to help raise money for the rehabilitation of Kibbutz Be’eri which was among the worst hit on October 7th. On the train platform going to the event I felt my head and heart clogging up with that familiar sodden feel and I pulled my hat low as the moist eyed bullshit started and images of dead babies popped in. And walking to the theatre I was so down over the girl and had images of a person’s flesh burned off their head and the baked case of their skull exposed and white. And the bonhomie of those at the theatre and the excited performers happy to see me and calling me a “legend” jarred with my private feelings of wanting to be alone and cry with my melancholy. And that ain’t good. When you got emotions denser than gravity that pull you to the floor it’s time to break free of that bullshit and get off your arse. Move your body and hopefully your brain and heart will catch up. So when I landed back in Israel I decided to go to Jerusalem the following day for no more than to get a meorav yerushalmi. That was it. That was my mission. To eat my favourite meal consisting of chicken hearts, liver and spleen. Admittedly there’s not a very crowded marketplace of dishes consisting of chicken hearts, liver and spleen - but inasmuch as there is - it’s meorav yerushalmi for me.

So I walked to Hagana station. Last time I did this walk I was dropping off a friend at night. The streets that night were menacing and full of piss. But now, in the daytime, the streets were quiet and the urine smells had gone. It seems urine is nocturnal? The odours prowl at night. In the day the sun blitzes them invisible. A crazy man with beer shouted at me in Hebrew. I didn’t understand but gave him a military salute and he saluted me back and smiled. I managed to get on my train with the ease of someone becoming a local, as opposed to the first time I used public transport. Today’s mission to get a meorav yerushalmi was the beginning of a broader decision to try and have two weeks “holiday” away from war stuff so I could recharge and shovel out big chunks of crap. I was tired of being hijacked by sadness and tired of feeling like shit when well meaning people told me I had helped them and made them laugh. The juxtaposition of what others apparently got from me and what I was feeling inside was tough. I needed to help myself. I needed to laugh. And man, I’m so desperate for a laugh. True, holy laughter where your soul is cleansed in the total abandonment of all self.

I arrived at Jerusalem-Yitzhak Navon Station and a frummer was playing piano by the escalator. It was appropriately melancholy and sentimental. I left the station and there was immediate bustle. People were selling grapes and berries and a guy in tefillin was playing rock music. I got a coffee and sat on Jaffa street. A man was playing saxophone. There is music everywhere here. Even in the silences.

I walked to a place I’ve been before and got my meorav yerushalmi. The purpose of the trip. It was really average. But I never expected it to be an epiphany. Life hasn’t signed any contract with our dreams. Magic isn’t summoned on command. It comes when it wants to come.

I happened to meet a police officer whose job is to monitor incitement in the Arab sector. Those who do engage in incitement - like antisemites across the world - have learned how to code their racism and murderous intent so that it camouflages itself as being on the right side of the law. It’s an ongoing challenge. I can’t remember how but she brought up the guy who had his head cut off and which terrorists tried to sell in Gaza. His head was eventually recovered and buried with his body. My holiday was so far going great. Seriously for a moment…this is an insane world we are living in. We are modern people surrounded by mediaeval barbarians. 

I then thought I’d pop into the Kotel that Jews have fought and suffered and striven to see for thousands of years - and which I can now casually stroll to in my shorts whilst sipping a coke.

I went through Jaffa Gate.

In the Jewish Quarter I saw a dead lizard on the floor whilst walking through the alleys towards the wall. It was belly up. Its stomach glittered with aquamarine beauty. Like dragon skin and sapphire-emeralds undersea. There were gloopy blue shades and peacock-coloured depths and shallows of light on its tiny, implausibly intricate body. Its belly was a disco ball of sky coloured mirrors and its tiny legs were open to the universe.

The sun was baking.

I got to the Kotel plaza. A man asked me to put on tefillin but I declined. I went to a spot on the wall and rested my head against it. But no feeling came. I was sterile and blank. I just stayed in that position. With my eyes shaded by stone. It was ok to be in darkness. Then music penetrated the emptiness and entered my ears. There was a bamitzvah close by. And when they sang a happy song I got emotional. Everything has been so far from happy for so long. Joy feels like a foreign land. It’s nice to hear a message from this distant country. It feels foreign, but happiness was a country where we once lived. It was our home. And that’s why I cried to hear. I’m so sad how far we are from home. Hearing my mother tongue, reminding me of the language of the old country, made me homesick. We can’t be refugees exiled from happiness forever. We have to remember the language. The map back home is inside us. The more we remind each other the more we remember.

The sun was baking.

I went and sat in the catacombs by the wall, writing these words as men davened around me. I don’t know how to live sometimes, but I know how to write. So I wrote. The dirge of voices mumbling in prayer becomes a hypnotic din. It’s quite relaxing. Maybe that’s what heaven sounds like. A womb like pulse of prayer you lose your self in. 

I popped out of the moment and gathered my stuff to go. When you know it’s time to leave you know it’s time to leave.

I walked back to the Jerusalem Light Railway. Checking my phone I saw a message inviting me to a gig tonight which I declined. Also a voicemail from a number I don’t know asking me if I’m in the market for a shidduch. I didn’t answer. I wasn’t looking for these things today. I got on the train at Jerusalem-Yitzhak Navon Station. A group of older women were noshing on something and speaking in Hebrew. I don’t know what they were saying but they started laughing and it made me laugh.

Then a Muslim lady got on and asked me in Hebrew if it was the train to Tel Aviv. I told her I didn’t know and that my Hebrew was shit and she laughed. Then she and I made eye contact and laughed privately with each other across the aisle as the train filled up with tired, harassed and angry people having a balagan with each other. One young girl absolutely horrified that people wouldn’t move further down the carriage. Then two young soldier girls came on and they were laughing hysterically with each other about something and that made me laugh. Me and the muslim girl laughed again when we made eye contact. It wasn’t the Golden Laugh that cures all. But every laugh is a jewel that heals something, I guess, and I found them because I went in search of meorav yerushalmi when feeling gloomy.

Feeling gloomy over girls and massacres! How many times have we heard that story??!! 

We’ve all been there!

And then we moved and My God the hills as the train pulled out. Once again those bloody hills.

Jerusalem don’t ever stop.

Some people call you crazy?

Then you are the perfect city for life - because life is crazy.

As the train glided past Ben Gurion I felt a bit better.

Today I visited the Temple where God is closest to earth. When I got back to Tel Aviv I bought some fabric conditioner so I could put a wash on when I got back home.

And that is a good day.

LEE KERN

JUL 5

[filmcel]

donnie darko - the best movie i’ve ever seen. such an interesting depiction of mental health. it’s interesting fuck the director though he’s a dumbass.

prisoners - THE movie to recommend people. idk anyone who has watched it and hated it. it’s so fucking good . tbh jake is like the least interesting part of the movie he’s pretty ugly. paul dano is the goat. the best movie i’ve seen revolving around some mystery. always on my toes always scared. when u think you know u end up being wrong. it gets u.

zodiac - he’s so cute in this movie and that’s as good as it gets. it’s good for one viewing and that’s IT. it’s very interesting has good sequences. but it’s so damn long. i guess if u wanna argue that it wants u to FEEL how they felt waiting so long trying to catch the zodiac killer id say sure fine but also they never even catch him so what’s the point of the movie. idk.

brokeback mountain - no comment

nocturnal animals - this movie is absolutely insane in the worst way. the two main characters r fuxking deranged. jake’s character is deranged for being like that. his weird revenge thing is so strange and it’s uncomfortable. i didn’t get it i didn’t like it i wouldn’t watch again.

enemy - this fucking movie…. idk how i sat thru it all actually. i’m proud of myself but i didn’t need to put myself thru that. jake is so boring in this. the movie itself is so fucking boring. it’s so weird. it’s so ugly. it looks like shit and it’s shot like shit and i don’t get why bc it’s a denis movie. maybe i’m not smart enough to get it but it sucked dick AND balls.

the guilty - okay. i know this movie isn’t very good. but i watched it and was entertained. it rlly is something you’d catch on the tv while ur at the dentist and get rlly invested in the 30 minutes ur in the waiting room. its nothing life changing but i had a good time

ambulance - HWHSJFJJDJAJAJS. the worst shit i’ve ever fucking seeeeeen. it’s hilarious tho . watch it drunk otherwise u might be bored out of ur mind. this movie is so insanely shot. i remember the billion drone shots. i remember the spleen burst. i remember the goofy shots they did of jake. idk how it got made. idk how jake is in it.

brothers - this movie… isn’t BAD…. i think? it made me uncomfortable. which yeah. that’s the point. but like the scene of tobey like being captured whatever . idk enough about anything but was that offensive in some way? let me know… it felt strange . the movie tho is super hard to watch. it’s cringey and scary. i wanna rewatch to get my full thoughts on it because it was awhile ago . great acting tho.

end of watch - Stupid baka fucking movie. i made my mom rent this shit and im sorry i wasted 4 of ur hard earned dollars. this movie is worth nothing. it’s so racist to mexicans. it’s embarrassing. like the main guy is mexicans and it does all that cringe cholo shit it made me want to claw my eyes out and never watch another movie again.

the covenant - GEHHRDHHFHRHSJZJFJRJEJ the most boring movie of all these honestly. i think i almost fell asleep. jake is in too many military movies actually holy shit. don’t watch this one at all lmfao .

jarhead - this one is the most interesting military movie he’s in but it’s also graphically one of the worst so beware. it rlly doesn’t hold back with trying to be gross and bad. and i understand why. but it does make it hard to watch. it’s shot rlly well though. and the acting is great.

demolition - OH BROTHHERRRRR. i thought this movie would be worth something because it’s one of those u see a lot of clips of online. it’s genuinely so stupid tho. i can barely remember the plot but i just remember it made no sense. ppl keep getting jake for these insane characters except it’s just dumb as shit.

october sky - this is a cute fun movie you’d watch in middle school ^_^! cute little time!!! and it has laura dern so what’s not to like!! maybe a little boring to some tho.

[kriegsgeist]

Nocturnal Depression - Spleen Black Metal

[christian-dubuis-santini]

Les perturbations, les anxiétés, les dépravations, la mort, les exceptions dans l’ordre physique ou moral, l’esprit de négation, les abrutissements, les hallucinations servies par la volonté, les tourments, la destruction, les renversements, les larmes, les insatiabilités, les asservissements, les imaginations creusantes, les romans, ce qui est inattendu, ce qu’il ne faut pas faire, les singularités chimiques de vautour mystérieux qui guette la charogne de quelque illusion morte, les expériences précoces et avortées, les obscurités à carapace de punaise, la monomanie terrible de l’orgueil, l’inoculation des stupeurs profondes, les oraisons funèbres, les envies, les trahisons, les tyrannies, les impiétés, les irritations, les acrimonies, les incartades agressives, la démence, le spleen, les épouvantements raisonnés, les inquiétudes étranges, que le lecteur préférerait ne pas approuver, les grimaces, les névroses, les filières sanglantes par lesquelles on fait passer la logique aux abois, les exagérations, l’absence de sincérité, les scies, les platitudes, le sombre, le lugubre, les enfantements pires que les meurtres, les passions, le clan des romanciers de cours d’assises, les tragédies, les odes, les mélodrames, les extrêmes présentés à perpétuité, la raison impunément sifflée, les odeurs de poule mouillée, les affadissements, les grenouilles, les poulpes, les requins, le simoun des déserts, ce qui est somnambule, louche, nocturne, somnifère, noctambule, visqueux, phoque parlant, équivoque, poitrinaire, spasmodique, aphrodisiaque, anémique, borgne, hermaphrodite, bâtard, albinos, pédéraste, phénomène d’aquarium et femme à barbe, les heures soûles du découragement taciturne, les fantaisies, les âcretés, les monstres, les syllogismes démoralisateurs, les ordures, ce qui ne réfléchit pas comme l’enfant, la désolation, ce mancenillier intellectuel, les chancres parfumés, les cuisses aux camélias, la culpabilité d’un écrivain qui roule sur la pente du néant et se méprise lui-même avec des cris joyeux, les remords, les hypocrisies, les perspectives vagues qui vous broient dans leurs engrenages imperceptibles, les crachats sérieux sur les axiomes sacrés, la vermine et ses chatouillements insinuants, les préfaces insensées comme celles de Cromwell, de Mademoiselle de Maupin et de Dumas fils, les caducités, les impuissances, les blasphèmes, les asphyxies, les étouffements, les rages, - devant des charniers immondes, que je rougis de nommer, il est temps de réagir enfin contre ce qui nous choque et nous courbe si souverainement.

(Lautréamont)

[c-etait-ailleurs]

La Lune, qui est le caprice même, regarda par la fenêtre pendant que tu dormais dans ton berceau, et se dit : “Cette enfant me plaît.” Et elle descendit moelleusement son escalier de nuages et passa sans bruit à travers les vitres. Puis elle s’étendit sur toi avec la tendresse souple d’une mère, et elle déposa ses couleurs sur ta face. Tes prunelles en sont restées vertes, et tes joues extraordinairement pâles. C’est en contemplant cette visiteuse que tes yeux se sont si bizarrement agrandis ; et elle t’a si tendrement serrée à la gorge que tu en as gardé pour toujours l’envie de pleurer. Cependant, dans l’expansion de sa joie, la Lune remplissait toute la chambre comme une atmosphère phosphorique, comme un poison lumineux ; et toute cette lumière vivante pensait et disait : “Tu subiras éternellement l’influence de mon baiser. Tu seras belle à ma manière. Tu aimeras ce que j’aime et ce qui m’aime : l’eau, les nuages, le silence et la nuit ; la mer immense et verte ; l’eau uniforme et multiforme ; le lieu où tu ne seras pas ; l’amant que tu ne connaîtras pas ; les fleurs monstrueuses ; les parfums qui font délirer ; les chats qui se pâment sur les pianos et qui gémissent comme les femmes, d’une voix rauque et douce ! “Et tu seras aimée de mes amants, courtisée par mes courtisans. Tu seras la reine des hommes aux yeux verts dont j’ai serré aussi la gorge dans mes caresses nocturnes ; de ceux-là qui aiment la mer, la mer immense, tumultueuse et verte, l’eau informe et multiforme, le lieu où ils ne sont pas, la femme qu’ils ne connaissent pas, les fleurs sinistres qui ressemblent aux encensoirs d’une religion inconnue, les parfums qui troublent la volonté, et les animaux sauvages et voluptueux qui sont les emblèmes de leur folie.” Et c’est pour cela, maudite chère enfant gâtée, que je suis maintenant couché à tes pieds, cherchant dans toute ta personne le reflet de la redoutable Divinité, de la fatidique marraine, de la nourrice empoisonneuse de tous les lunatiques.

Charles Baudelaire, “Les Bienfaits de la lune”, recueil Le Spleen de Paris

[breha]

more poems for iwtv

[see claudia poems]

louis

agha shahid ali, "of light" (note: page turn)

james baldwin, "conundrum (on my birthday)" "guilt, desire, and love" (note: page turn)

dorothy barresi, "pocket vampire"

charles baudelaire, "the fountain of blood" (trans. rachel hadas) "lethe" (multiple translations) "out of the depths" (mult.) "spleen" (trans. richard howard)

eavan boland, "pomegranate"

jericho brown, "trojan"

fenton johnson, "in the evening"

allen grossman, "the secret religionist"

john keats, "i cry your mercy-pity-love! -aye, love!"

yusef komunyakaa, "blue dementia" "'you and i are disappearing'"

edna st. vincent millay, "time does not bring relief; you all have lied"

lisel meuller, "american literature" "the power of music to disturb" (note: page turn)

carl philips, "a little closer though, if you can, for what got lost here" "stop shaking"

d.a. powell, "a night at the opera"

sandra simonds, "you can't build a child"

patricia smith, "the sun, mad envious, just wants the moon"

keith wilson, "note to a sister"

charles wright, "clear night"

armand

kaveh akbar, "morning prayer with rat king"

donald britton, "elevators i"

tarfia faizullah, "the poem you've been waiting for"

hannah gamble, "i wanted to make myself like the ravine" "it was alive, though differently"

d.a. powell, "the fluffer talks of eternity"

sandra simonds, "flammagenitus strophes"

lestat

george barker, "sonnets of the triple-headed manichee" (note: page turn)

charles baudelaire, "don juan in hell" (multiple translations) "i adore you as much as the nocturnal vault..." (mult.) "sympathetic horror" (mult.)

arthur rimbaud, "a season in hell" (trans. bertrand mathieu)

richard shiffman, "after the opera"

general/i couldn't decide where to put it

charles baudelaire, "beyond redemption" (mult.) "the self-tormenter" (mult.)

frank o'hara, "meditations in an emergency"

[sonmelier]

Avant-cuvée 2024 : 4/8

Oyez, oh yeah, c'est le retour des avant-cuvées ! On reprend les choses là où on les avait laissées à la fin du mois de mai. Ce quatrième article de la série a lui aussi pour objet de mettre en lumière quelques unes des œuvres les plus marquantes de l'année en cours. Une sélection de rentrée un peu plus généreuse cette fois-ci, avec non pas 6 mais 8 disques (un peu de rab pour affronter la reprise !).

Comme d'habitude, les horizons sont divers (tant dans le style que dans la géographie), mais ils convergent tous vers une même évidence : la capacité universelle de la musique à dialoguer avec l'âme humaine et à y laisser une empreinte durable.

Actress | Statik

🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 Angleterre | Smalltown Supersound | 48 minutes | 11 morceaux

Changement de label pour Darren Cunningham, dont le dixième album débarque chez les osloïtes de Smalltown Supersound. Un mariage auquel nous n’avions pas pensé, mais qui tombe pourtant sous le sens. Cette maison norvégienne est un acteur de tout premier plan dans les nouvelles formes de jazz et de musique électronique et on a justement affaire ici à un des projets electro les plus captivants et novateurs des quinze dernières années. Les influences jazz qui étaient à l’œuvre dans le fantastique LXXXVIII sont paradoxalement un peu moins à l’œuvre, mais la profondeur onirique de la musique d’Actress s’abreuve subtilement à d’autres sources tout aussi fertiles (on pense à l’univers sonore de Drexciya ou encore aux mélodies obliques de l’expérimentateur portugais Nuno Canavarro).

🎧 Cafe del Mars

Arooj Aftab | Night Reign

🇵🇰 Pakistan | Verve Records | 49 minutes | 9 morceaux

Night Reign est une toile sonore nocturne absolument somptueuse, tissée des plus beaux fils issus du jazz, du ghazal, du folk et du qawwalî. Le chant en ourdu d’Arooj Aftab est loin d’avoir épuisé son pouvoir d’envoûtement, malgré les nombreuses heures passées à écouter les magnifiques Vulture Prince et Love in Exile. Plus expérimentale et en même temps plus dynamique que jamais, sa musique explore ici des territoires imprégnés d’un romantisme mélancolique enivrant.

🎧 Aey Nehin

Bab L' Bluz | Swaken

🇲🇦 Maroc | Real World Records | 45 minutes | 11 morceaux

Fondé en 2018 à Marrakech et signé par le prestigieux label Real World, ce power quartet propose une potion musicale très personnelle, survoltée et spirituelle, mêlant traditions gnawa, rock, expérimentations psychédéliques et chaâbi. Swaken (qui signifie « possession et transcendance » en darija, dialecte marocain) est son deuxième album. Le premier (Nayda !, sorti en 2020) lui avait valu une belle reconnaissance critique, et lui avait ouvert les portes d’une longue tournée mondiale riche en enseignements. Mené par la chanteuse et joueuse de guembri Yousra Mansour, il aborde de manière intense et conquérante de nombreux thèmes politiques et sociétaux avec la volonté de faire bouger les lignes, particulièrement pour l'émancipation des femmes. De la révolte, de la transe mais aussi de la magie irriguent ce disque, à l’image des prestations live du groupe.

🎧 AmmA

Camera Obscura | Look to the East, Look to the West

🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 Ecosse | Merge Records | 45 minutes | 11 morceaux

On ne l’attendait plus, ce sixième album du si délectable groupe indie pop de Glasgow. En pause depuis 2015, après un Desire Lines (2013) assez décevant et suite au décès de la claviériste Carey Lander, Camera Obscura a repris son parcours discographique sur les meilleures bases. On retrouve ici tous les ingrédients qui font la magie de sa musique (mélodies délicates et entêtantes, textes qui touchent et qui font mouche, sans parler du chant magnétique de Tracyanne Campbell, le tout dans un subtil mélange de chaleur et de nostalgie, de spleen et d’énergie) mais on découvre aussi quelques pistes nouvelles (textures électroniques par ci, influences country plus marquées par là). Sans prétendre égaler les deux albums phares que sont  Let's Get Out of This Country et My Maudlin Career (mais on parle ici de deux des tous meilleurs disques d’indie pop des vingt dernières années), Look to the East, Look to the West nous offrent des retrouvailles réjouissantes avec un groupe irremplaçable dans son genre.

🎧 Liberty Print

Charli XCX | brat

🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 Angleterre | Atlantic | 41 minutes | 15 morceaux

Un ou une « brat », c’est littéralement un ou une sale gosse. Une jeune personne dont le manque d’éducation peut susciter chez autrui un certain degré d’hostilité. Dans une des chansons de leur premier album (en 1976), les pionniers du punk Ramones suggéraient d’ailleurs de réserver à ce type d'individu un traitement bien peu amène. Mais ça, c’était avant. Avant que ne déboule dans un tourbillon festif, déluré et touchant de sincérité, un été 2024 marqué au fer vert fluo de Charli XCX. L’artiste britannique, plus confiante et conquérante que jamais (sans pour autant avoir dissimulé ses vulnérabilités), a semble-t-il arraché des mains toutes les battes de baseball qui cherchaient à la tenir en respect. Pas tant pour les retourner contre leurs porteurs (même si elle ne se prive pas toujours de rendre quelques coups bien sentis) que pour inviter tout ce petit monde à une célébration jubilatoire. La fête est toujours plus belle quand on est désarmé. Plus de dix ans après ses débuts, et tout en conservant une esthétique audacieuse faisant penser au label hyperpop PC Music (sur lequel elle n’a jamais rien publié malgré sa collaboration artistique au long cours avec A.G. Cook), Charli XCX tient avec « BRAT » l’album frontal et extatique qui la propulse au rang de phénomène de société.

🎧 Von Dutch

Cindy Lee | Diamond Jubilee

🇨🇦 Canada | Realistik Studios | 122 minutes | 32 morceaux

Ses 32 morceaux et ses 122 minutes pourraient conférer à Diamond Jubilee une image de mastodonte tentaculaire et écrasant. Mais il suffit de lever le nez de la tracklist et d’entamer l’exploration de l’œuvre avec les oreilles pour ne ressentir que douceur et légèreté, comme en lévitation entre plusieurs époques étrangement familières qui s’entremêlent et se répondent. Profondément habité par la pop music des girls bands sixties, Patrick Flegel campe à travers son personnage drag queen Cindy Lee un groupe féminin réduit à une seule fille, rescapée mystérieuse et nostalgique plongée dans une brume d’échos lointains. Les expérimentations vénéneuses et autres assauts bruitistes entendus dans le génialissime What's Tonight to Eternity ? ne sont plus de la partie, mais il résulte de ce flot ininterrompu de chansons immédiates et accueillantes, presque dépourvues d'aspérité, un doux et troublant sentiment de vertige.

🎧 Kingdom Come

Meridian Brothers | Mi Latinoamérica sufre

🇨🇴 Colombie | Ansonia | 48 minutes | 11 morceaux

Chaque nouvel album du projet Meridian Brothers d’Eblis Álvarez s’accompagne d’une certitude absolue : l’auditeur va être plongé de manière irrésistible dans une joie bizarre et endiablée, emporté par des flots musicaux tropicalement décalés. Pour le reste, rien n’est absolument prévisible avec notre énergumène colombien, à commencer par les histoires abracadabrantesques racontées dans ses chansons. Un univers sonore unique en son genre, qui relève d’une alchimie miraculeuse entre avant-garde psychédélique et sons afro / latino-américains traditionnels (ceux de la salsa, comme sur son brillant disque précédent, ceux de la champeta et de la rumba sur le présent opus et bien sûr ceux de la cumbia, qui ont toujours irrigué l’ensemble).

🎧 Mandala

Pomme | Saisons

🇫🇷 France | Virgin | 36 minutes | 12 morceaux

Le quatrième album de Claire Pommet est un accomplissement esthétique et conceptuel captivant. Epaulée par l’artiste pluridisciplinaire Malvina (qui habille les douze chansons du disque d’orchestrations et d’arrangements absolument sublimes) ou encore par Aaron Dessner (The National) et Flavien Berger, cette lyonnaise de naissance brille de mille feux dans ce monde sonore envoûtant qu’elle a composé puis magnifiquement façonné de sa voix et par ses textes. Une ode d’une douceur infinie à la nature, au vivant qui nous entoure et aux sentiments humains.

🎧 _jun perseides

[livinglappurrr]

16/01/2024 - We met Henry and Mia for the last time on the trip and went to the Kiwi sanctuary. The conservation talk was very interesting. They talked about the trapping policy to help new heal and become predator free by 2050 and showed us lots of birds and a possum as an example of what they are trying to eliminate. A tragic but supposedly for the greater good, to save New Zealand’s native bird population that is being eradicated by foreign mammals. We also saw some kiwis! We had to wait a while for our eyes to adjust as kiwis are nocturnal and very sensitive to light so the enclosure was almost pitch black. They were very cute, running around guarding their individual territories. Although be sure. It to mess with them as they have incredibly powerful legs and can rupture a spleen if not handled with care (by three people!). We got the cable car up for lunch, then down, read for a while, then headed to the airport for our first of three flights to get home.

[mysteriis-moon666]

HERETOIR – Nightsphere

Heretoir est un groupe de post-metal fondé en 2006 par Eklatanz (chant/guitare, ex-Agrypnie, live pour Austere, Dornenreich), et composé de Max F. (guitare, ex-King Apathy, ex-Thränenkind), Nils Groth (batterie, Emissary of Suffering, ex-Fäulnis, ex-Ophis, ex-Thränenkind) et Kevin Storm (guitare, Fleetburner, ex-Heidevolk, live for Gaerea, Kalmah, Saor, Shining…), dans une esthétique de metal atmosphérique par son ambiance nocturne et blackgaze par son intensité.

Ce troisième album « Nightsphere » via AOP Records développe cette ère de constat, où l’ode à Gaïa, (mère Nature) est prise dans un futur dévasté par le capitalisme/progrès dévastateur.

Sur le titre « Glacierheart - Nightsphere Part II » l’on trouve au chant Nikita Kemprad de Der Weig Einer Freiheit dont l’œuvre initiale résonne dans les filaments désespérés d’Heretoir. Dans ce tumulte pessimiste le spleen se teinte d’une joliesse poétique pour afficher sa dualité persistante. C’est dans ce duel saisissant que le glas ténébreux de cette œuvre dystopique élabore son linceul contemplatif, où Heretoir double sa magie nocturne en pointant de son sujet funèbre toute la beauté que l’homme soumet à sa tentation.

« Cet album est très spécial pour nous car il s’agit de notre premier album entièrement écrit en tant que groupe complet, avec des contributions de chacun des membres du groupe. ‘’Nightsphere’’ est un maelström atmosphérique qui vous engloutira. » dixit Heretoir

[bluerosefox]

Make it worse.

Tim steals Walker's hat before leaving the prison (and was so happy to help Wulf escape he forgot to ask the Ghost for a ride home before he left him)

Techus and Tim are now friendly enemies in the world of tech now (Techus brings up about the fact a human is stuck in the Realms when he goes to Tucker for their annual tech-off fight.

Tucker: "Wait... a unknown human is stuck somewhere in the Realms?!"

Techus:"I......I should had brought the chaotic monster with me huh..."

Team Phantom: "YES!")

Skulker thought Phantom and his techy friend were a menace, he was never ready for a guy who managed to outsmart an immortal assassin leader creep not once but twice. Tim totally hijacks his suit and rides it around for a while (think Link in TotK on the robot thing later in the game)

And is getting a brand new spleen after Frostbite offered to grow it since he's missing one!

Tim Vs Nocturne is a fight we need written out. Tim dodging sleep attacks and swearing to find a way to get rid of his need to sleep forever (their rivalry continues even after Tim goes home)

He stumbles on Aragon trying to usurp his sister, finds his talk about "putting her in her place" and "women can never be leaders" very bad (look he knows a LOT of badass ladies, he drinks his respect juice now that he isn't a dumb young teen anymore) steals his amulet and really enjoys being able to become an actual dragon, it feels right.

He takes a picture of himself with a Red Robin statue and in front of the sign dressed in his RR suit for laughs.

'Note to self' Tim thought as he stared up at the different shades of greens and black shifting sky above him as he ignored the aching his body was in from the rough landing he had to take 'Make sure to give Bart and Kon the slowest and mind-numbing missions for like a week once I get back.'

Tim often forgot his parents used to be accomplished archeologists before they died. (He really didnt, he just really didn't like acknowledging the fact they'd rather dig up buried things from ages ago over being in the same country as him for most of his life)

It wasn't until, as he and his old team ("Yeah! Young Just US together again. Time for a new insane adventure! Hey remember that one time with-" "Shh!!" "Ooohhh right... Forgot. What happens in YJ stays in YJ...") were assigned a new mission that he was reminded of this fact.

The mission was to locate a forgotten relic that apparently could open 'doorways' into different Realms, and one of them was a Realm of powerful undead that if controlled would be unstoppable. They were meant to find it before "insert 'creative name' cult of the week here please" Who planned on subjecting the world to its power.

Now knowing about the relic and finding it was two wholly different things. Tim and the others managed to uncover just enough about the artifact that Tim had manged to narrow down the last city it had been last recorded to be seen in.

And the city's old name was something that Tim thought sounded familiar.

It wasn't until they were digging into the countries archeologist permission records, meaning the people who were given the okay to dig in the historical site, that he found out why it sounded familiar, his parents names were some of the last to have been granted permission before their deaths, and it was then Bart had jokelying said

"Hey what are are the odds Robs parents stored the relic away ages ago! Would be a tiny bit funny if this all powerful item is just collecting dust in some warehouse."

And although it was meant to be a joke. Tim stared at the description of the relic and couldn't help but question perhaps there was some merit to it. Tim, for the first time in years, opened up his parents archeologist records and went to looking.

And low and behold they found out. Still sitting in a warehouse outside of Gotham, as if his parents were going to trust Gotham with important and priceless relics unless it was in their house to study later.

So in short, retrieving the relic should had been easy enough, get in and remove it from storage. Lock it away so the cult looking for the damn thing couldn't use it. Simple.

But trust Bart goofing around with Kon and accidently bumping into Tim when he was inspecting the relic and turning it on.

It apparently opened a glowing green portal... a portal that opened under Tim and dropped him into an entirely new dimension of the Undead... Great, just great.

"Ooo a visitor, we don't get breathing guests here all too often." A voice spoke out behind him, it held an echoing in its tone. He turned around and was meet with glowing eyes and snow white hair. "Although you should probably find a way home or else Walker will find you, knowing him he'll toss you in prison for just breathing, and I'm not joking."

[the-nightsideeclipse]

Nocturnal Depression - Spleen Black Metal

Spleen Black Metal (2015)

[mesillusionssousecstasy]

Un jour, je sais que tu cesseras de me manquer, je sais que je cesserai de t’aimer, parce que tout est éphémère, tu me l’avais dis, et quand ce jour arrivera, j’écrirai sur les murs de la ville, que t’es qu’un connard.

Spleen-nocturne (Tumblg Blog)

[christian-dubuis-santini]

Les perturbations, les anxiétés, les dépravations, la mort, les exceptions dans l’ordre physique ou moral, l’esprit de négation, les abrutissements, les hallucinations servies par la volonté, les tourments, la destruction, les renversements, les larmes, les insatiabilités, les asservissements, les imaginations creusantes, les romans, ce qui est inattendu, ce qu’il ne faut pas faire, les singularités chimiques de vautour mystérieux qui guette la charogne de quelque illusion morte, les expériences précoces et avortées, les obscurités à carapace de punaise, la monomanie terrible de l’orgueil, l’inoculation des stupeurs profondes, les oraisons funèbres, les envies, les trahisons, les tyrannies, les impiétés, les irritations, les acrimonies, les incartades agressives, la démence, le spleen, les épouvantements raisonnés, les inquiétudes étranges, que le lecteur préférerait ne pas approuver, les grimaces, les névroses, les filières sanglantes par lesquelles on fait passer la logique aux abois, les exagérations, l’absence de sincérité, les scies, les platitudes, le sombre, le lugubre, les enfantements pires que les meurtres, les passions, le clan des romanciers de cours d’assises, les tragédies, les odes, les mélodrames, les extrêmes présentés à perpétuité, la raison impunément sifflée, les odeurs de poule mouillée, les affadissements, les grenouilles, les poulpes, les requins, le simoun des déserts, ce qui est somnambule, louche, nocturne, somnifère, noctambule, visqueux, phoque parlant, équivoque, poitrinaire, spasmodique, aphrodisiaque, anémique, borgne, hermaphrodite, bâtard, albinos, pédéraste, phénomène d’aquarium et femme à barbe, les heures soûles du découragement taciturne, les fantaisies, les âcretés, les monstres, les syllogismes démoralisateurs, les ordures, ce qui ne réfléchit pas comme l’enfant, la désolation, ce mancenillier intellectuel, les chancres parfumés, les cuisses aux camélias, la culpabilité d’un écrivain qui roule sur la pente du néant et se méprise lui-même avec des cris joyeux, les remords, les hypocrisies, les perspectives vagues qui vous broient dans leurs engrenages imperceptibles, les crachats sérieux sur les axiomes sacrés, la vermine et ses chatouillements insinuants, les préfaces insensées comme celles de Cromwell, de Mademoiselle de Maupin et de Dumas fils, les caducités, les impuissances, les blasphèmes, les asphyxies, les étouffements, les rages, - devant des charniers immondes, que je rougis de nommer, il est temps de réagir enfin contre ce qui nous choque et nous courbe si souverainement.

(Lautréamont)