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sinceileftyoublog · 10 months ago

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SILY's Top Albums of 2023

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Another year of settling into "the new normal" in the music world, for better or for worse, still brought us great records. The underground NYC hip hop scene burst with creativity. Rock and Roll Hall of Famers reinvented old songs. Stalwarts of experimental music, contemporary jazz, and modern-day blues released their career bests. Even archivists had their day. Below are 16 great albums released last year and 6 more honorable mentions no less worthy of inclusion--I just didn't have time to write about them.

Armand Hammer - We Buy Diabetic Test Strips (Fat Possum)

It's all in the title: on their sixth album, billy woods and E L U C I D navigate through a society where not only is shit that should be free, expensive, but a secondhand market encourages hustlers to make a profit. Amidst capitalist corruption and individualism, the threat of an AI takeover and close calls getting caught with drugs, both emcees face the bleakness while occasionally imagining a better world. As always, the victories are small, but mighty: good weed ("Woke Up And Asked Siri How I'm Gonna Die"), morally righteous laundromat owners ("When It Doesn't Start With A Kiss"), the freedom to bask in schadenfreude ("Niggardly (Blocked Call)"). And yes, it takes a lot for two slow lurching wordsmiths to rise above production from the likes of JPEGMAFIA, DJ Haram, and EL-P, always-inspired samples ranging from E-40 to Sun Ra and Japanese rock band Ghost, and features from Pink Siifu, Junglepussy, and Moor Mother. But they deftly connect the dots from centuries ago to now, presenting societal dysfunction as a core component of our country and world. "George Washington's heart a frozen river, boy / Opps in the backwoods, slave teeth in the mouth when he say ni**a," woods raps, as if to shock you out of complacency and make you numb to the horrors at the same time.

Arooj Aftab, Vijay Iyer, & Shahzad Ismaily - Love In Exile (Verve)

It's hard to believe that Love In Exile, the first collaboration between singer Arooj Aftab, legendary jazz pianist Vijay Iyer, and multi-instrumentalist Shahzad Ismaily, was recorded live with minimal overdubs. Then again, it's clear there's something special brewing within the trio, who first performed together in 2018. That is, the way in which each performer enters and exits and weaves within another is as natural as it is stunning. On Love In Exile, Aftab sings in Urdu--the sound of her words mattering just as much if not more than their meaning--and Iyer plays piano and electronics, Ismaily bass and Moog. The result is an interplay between beauty and dissonance, minimalism and swells of noise, intimacy and grandiosity. Iyer's piano seems like it's increasingly sure of itself on opener "To Remain/To Return" as Aftab's smoky voice resembles a soulful, mournful reed. Ismaily's bass is slow-lurching and rounded throughout, the steady presence that only so much ripples on songs like "Eye of the Endless" as Aftab and Iyer provide contrast in timbre. Love In Exile is the type of album born out of a moment; yet, it gives seemingly endless pathways in which to get lost.

Arthur Russell - Picture of Bunny Rabbit (Audika)

Throughout Picture of Bunny Rabbit, Arthur Russell’s voice is as much of an instrument as his bowed cello, fading in and out on “Not Checking Up”, “Telling No On”, and “Very Reason”. The mysterious aura of Russell comes from both not knowing what’s out there and, on the music we do know exists, being unable to tell what he’s saying or what instruments he’s using. A rubbery whooshing pervades “The Boy With a Smile” and “In The Light of a Miracle”. The 8-minute title track sees dissonant cello disintegrating in real time, unfurling like tape over feedback squalls to the point where it sounds like a MIDI version of a guitar solo. At the same time, Russell always knew when to surface. The harmonica on “The Boy With a Smile” creates a rootsy tactility, the controlled chaos of his string playing yielding free percussion. Russell’s vocals rapidly shuffle on “In The Light of a Miracle”, though they’re as clear as ever, contrasting his sticky cello, plainly borrowing rhythms from Indian classical music.

Read the rest of our review here.

billy woods & Kenny Segal - Maps (BackwoodzStudioz)

The prolific billy woods’ second album with beat mastermind Kenny Segal is centered around touring, inspired by the idea that the road–or the lack of home–is, in itself, home. On Maps, places where people reside are as constantly changing as the landscapes that pass as you’re on the highway. It’s the perfect fodder for woods’ neuroses and pessimism, the low thoughts that occur when you have too much time on your hands but still can’t make sense of your surroundings. He’s constantly searching for stimuli–weed, food, drinks–to distract himself from the human condition. Like the titular “Houdini”, Woods escapes, even if temporarily.

Read the rest of our review of Maps here.

Bob Dylan - Shadow Kingdom (Columbia)

It wasn't just Taylor Swift rerecording their own catalog in 2023. As part of the soundtrack to Alma Har'el's 2021 film Shadow Kingdom: The Early Songs of Bob Dylan, the Bard himself gave us his new versions of old tracks, mostly his Dylan's 60s heyday, save for a new instrumental. Notably, it's his Dylan's record with a band with no drums or percussion, and it's a mystery who played on it, as there are no official credits. It's also his first album of new studio recordings since 2020 opus Rough and Rowdy Ways, so naturally, he leads off with a reflective "When I Paint My Masterpiece". In general, his arrangements are more gentle, from the swirling harmonicas and trailing strums of "Queen Jane Aproximately" to the bluesy, tempo-changing "I'll Be Your Baby Tonight". "Tombstone Blues" comes across like a spooky tale, slowed down, as opposed to the ramshackle stream of consciousness of the original, while the eerie and mournful "What Was It You Wanted" is a revelatory adaptation of the late 80's classic. And "Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues" shuffles along with a calypso groove, almost as if it's a tribute to the late Jimmy Buffett. He may not be doing it to regain the rights to his own songs, but on Shadow Kingdom, Dylan asserts that there's value in revisiting old friends.

Drive-By Truckers - The Complete Dirty South (New West)

The Complete Dirty South is us an opportunity to listen with 2023 ears to a 2004 album that’s truer than ever. The rich still get away with doing illegal things (“Where the Devil Don’t Stay”), increasingly intense weather patterns still devastate the poorest of communities (“Tornadoes”), and government austerity policies still force people to work longer hours, for lower pay (the incendiary “Putting People on the Moon”.) When Patterson Hood sings, “Motherfucker in the White House said a change was comin’ round / But I’m workin’ at the Walmart, Mary Alice in the ground,” it’s the much more realistic, downtrodden version of “Meet the new boss, same as the old boss,” a sharpshooting lyricist’s analysis of the devastating consequences of incrementalism, let alone inaction.

Read our preview of two Drive-By Truckers solo shows from December.

GOLD DIME - No More Blue Skies (No-Gold)

With No More Blue Skies, Andrya Ambro, the former half of No Wave-inspired Brooklyn indie rock duo Talk Normal has delivered the most distilled statement of her artistry to date. Combining her classical training and ethnomusicological studies as a drummer with the hammering intensity of her live performance, the album is a examination of contrast, an exercise in presenting ambiguous questions and smashing them to see if any answers lie within.

Read our review of GOLD DIME's career-best.

jaimie branch - Fly or Die Fly or Die Fly or Die ((world war)) (International Anthem)

Though the late trumpeter and composer jaimie branch’s third album Fly or Die Fly or Die Fly or Die ((world war)) is a final statement, it’s even more effective as an eternal one. It begins with keyboards that sound like church organs, an eerily somber sonic manifestation of irrevocability. As Chad Taylor’s rolling drums enter, branch gives us one of her trademark trumpet blares, as if to announce, “I’m here.” She wasn’t one to spend much more time announcing her presence, though–the track segues into an Afro-Latin style jam, clacking percussion and horns in line with Lester St. Louis’ nervy bowed cello. ((world war)) from then on spends most of its runtime just the way branch liked it, in a groove, with some breaks along the way to remind us of the urgency of the moment.

Read our review of Fly or Die Fly or Die Fly or Die ((world war)).

Jason Isbell & the 400 Unit - Weathervanes (Southeastern/Thirty Tigers)

Over the past few years, Jason Isbell’s had a lot of time to think. Pandemic and lockdown-induced isolation made us all spend a bit more time between our ears, and for Isbell, it was his experience on set for Martin Scorsese’s Killers of the Flower Moon that yielded even more alone time. These spaces in between catalyzed the creation of Weathervanes. Like Isbell’s best records, Weathervanes tackles many areas of life, from getting older and grappling with regret and depression to existing in an increasingly fraught and vulnerable world. What makes it succeed most is the extent to which he relied on his collaborators to make it, purportedly inspired by watching none other than Scorsese seek out the opinions of others while filming Flower Moon.

Read our preview of Isbell & the 400 Unit's show in Joliet last March.

JPEGMAFIA & Danny Brown - Scaring the Hoes (AWAL)

JPEGMAFIA's called SCARING THE HOES a “practice album,” made with the SP-404–no Pro Tools–after learning it for a year. It certainly has that loose quality you’d think, alongside the exact amount of chaos you’d expect from the debut full-length join-up from him and Danny Brown. Of course, Peggy finds kinship in the deep cuts and the underground, from the underappreciated Bun B to old soul and funk, Japanese pop, and gospel. The samples and production are inspired. At the same time, Peggy knows he’s your favorite Twitter follow’s favorite rapper, so the title itself, referring to something a Very Online Man would say who thinks his taste is too esoteric for women, is tongue-in-cheek. “How the fuck we supposed to make money of this shit?” Peggy asks on the title track. “You wanna be an MC? What the fuck you think, it’s 1993?” The only thing better than effortless tempo changes, switches on a dime from maximalism to dreamy instrumentation, is self-awareness of his own idiosyncrasies. Bonus points for “God Loves You”, which juxtaposes a guttural, spirited gospel sample with the filthiest lyrics on the album.

Read our preview of Pitchfork Music Festival 2023, containing JPEGMAFIA, here.

Matana Roberts - Coin Coin Chapter Five: In The Garden... (Constellation)

On the 5th of their 12 planned Coin Coin albums, saxophone master Matana Roberts tells the story of an ancestor who died after complications from a self-inflicted abortion. Though it's a tragic story, Roberts reclaims the narrative and casts it as part of a wider tale of institutional racism, sexism, and classism. Songs with spoken word are interspersed throughout instrumental expressions of sounds as tangible as tin whistle and as abstract as synth, structures at times free and at times delving even into rock, let alone jazz bops. Each detail of story included is clearly intentional, meant to paint a picture of Roberts' ancestor while portraying their story as not unique. Roberts' spoken word--closer to voice acting, even--is incredible, as they repeat in varying levels of genuineness, "Well, they didn't know I was electric, alive, spirited, fired and free / My spirit overshadowing, my dreams to bombastic / My eyes too sparkling, my laughter too true." Their saxophone is expressive, yet mournful, providing motifs of lamentation and hope at once. On the penultimate "for they do not know", Roberts layers and repeats the album's main refrain, "My name is your name, our name is their name / We are named / We remember, they forget," as if to emphasize the prevalence of their ancestor's story throughout history. And closer "...ain't i...your mystery is our history" juxtaposes Western and African traditions, pointedly demonstrating that the evils brought upon their ancestor are rooted in colonialism and Western hegemony rather than a standalone calamity.

Robert Finley - Black Bayou (Easy Eye Sound)

Seven years into his improbable comeback, Robert Finley views his role as a singer and entertainer as twofold: meeting the audience at the heart while simultaneously giving them advice, telling them the barebones truth when other authority figures won’t. On Black Bayou, he reckons with ideas of homesickness and loneliness, lust and love, selflessness and salvation. Buoyed by longtime collaborator Dan Auerbach of The Black Keys, Finley wrote all of the songs in the studio, and his familiarity with his supporting cast of musicians resulted in songs that were both efficiently recorded and emotionally acute. Kenny Brown’s guitar winces with longing on “Livin’ Out A Suitcase” as Finley’s tired of traveling. On “Waste Of Time”, a song that sees Finley taking pride in rural living even if it means missing out on opportunities provided by cities, the buzz-saw guitars and Jeffrey Clemens’ clattering percussion yield a perfect maximalism to go along with Finley’s claims that, yes, there’s still a lot to digest right outside your doorstep.

Read our interview with Finley about Black Bayou here.

Sunny War - Anarchist Gospel (New West)

Sunny War battles self-destruction throughout Anarchist Gospel; in the lead-up to its release, she spoke about her music representing a battle between that side of herself and the one trying to make things better. On “New Day”, she uses the language of addiction to wax on love, hurt, and obsession: “Believing in magic can be tragic / I’m love’s junkie, I’m love’s addict.” One of the record’s true standouts is “I Got No Fight”, where pained guitars and screaming organs exemplify Sunny’s desire for the days to end, depression that buzzes like a fly in her ear. On the gorgeous country tune “His Love”, she sings of an unhealthy relationship, “His love fades, my love grows,” and the timbres of her voice and the instruments similarly diverge, her lurking deep vocal register contrasting the spryness of the backing vocals, guitars, and pattering drums.

Read our review of Anarchist Gospel.

Various Artists - Tell Everybody! (21st Century Juke Joint Blues From Easy Eye Sound) (Easy Eye Sound)

For the better part of the past decade, Dan Auerbach's Easy Eye Sound recording studio and record label has showcased some of the best in contemporary blues music, from various regions across the country and spanning sub-genres. Tell Everybody!, the label's latest compilation, makes the case that a current crop of songwriters, vocalists, and instrumentalists are making essential wartime-style juke joint blues numbers. It's comprised of alternate versions of songs from past Easy Eye Sound albums (Jimmy "Duck" Holmes' version of "Catfish Blues", Leo Bud Welch's glistening "Don't Let the Devil Ride"), posthumously released offerings from idiosyncratic legends like James Gang/Pacific Gas & Electric/All Saved Freak Band guitarist Glenn Schwartz, and strong statements from up and comers like Detroit Dobro-drummer duo Moonrisers, Chicago's Gabe Carter, and Kentucky picker Nat Myers. Auerbach even finds room for new songs from himself and The Black Keys, who sound better than they have in years by embracing the drippy psychedelia of their early material on "No Lovin'". And performing the title track (and baring teeth on the cover) is Robert Finley, whose daughter Christy Johnson delivers smooth gospel backing vocals to contrast Auerbach and Kenny Brown's searing guitars, the multi-generational sound of past, present, and future.

Wednesday - Rat Saw God (Dead Oceans)

“Hot Rotten Grass Smell”, the opening track to Wednesday's incredible Rat Saw God, immediately juxtaposes country guitars with shoegaze squall. Songwriter/vocalist/guitarist Karly Hartzman references Smog’s “The Well” before turning inward to a bleak vision: “Your closet froze after you left / Except the people who took your shirts / Closed off your door with yellow tape / Saw myself dead at the end of a staircase.” The song ends with a sudden cut to field recordings of peepers. Heartbreak, anxiety, life, death, both the natural environment and the concrete depression of the South. It’s all there for Hartzman’s poetry, and no moment is too small or too ordinary for worship.

Read our review of Rat Saw God.

Willie Nelson - I Don't Know A Thing About Love: The Songs of Harlan Howard (Legacy)

Part of me thinks living legend Willie Nelson would rather continue paying tribute to his forebears than do anything else. The late Harlan Howard essentially gave Nelson his first break after hearing some original tunes, signing him to the Pamper publishing imprint in the early 60's. Of course, last year, Nelson would go on to celebrate a 90th birthday and be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, while Howard, who passed away in 2002, is still mostly known behind the scenes, writing songs that would become immortalized by Buck Owens, Waylon Jennings, Ray Charles, and Brenda Lee. So leave it to Nelson to present Howard's best songs, with minimal arrangements, to emphasize the brilliance of his songwriting, the devastating simplicity of lines like "I'm about as helpless as a leaf in a gale." Nelson leads a stellar backing band through blues stomps ("Excuse Me (I Think I've Got A Heartache)", a screaming version of "Busted") and plaintive and empathetic waltzes ("Life Turned Her That Way"), exemplifying a three chords and the truth philosophy appropriate for all moods and experiences.

Honorable Mentions:

Bob Dylan - The Bootleg Series, Vol. 17: Fragments - Time Out Of Mind Sessions 1996-1997 (Columbia/Legacy)

The Clientele - I Am Not There Anymore (Merge)

Daniel Bachman - When The Roses Come Again (Three Lobed)

Danny Brown - Quaranta (Warp)

Gazelle Twin - Black Dog (Invada)

Lonnie Holley - Oh Me Oh My (Jagjaguwar)

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docholligay · 2 years ago

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The Neverending Story

The pitch: It is very much a story about stories and why do we tell them. What kind of them we tell ourselves, and what effect that can have on our own perception of others and our own self. And when we built a story in our head, how that affects how we interact with the world. How our own self perception can affect the tales we tell. It's about the kind of fantasy that is constantly changing, because don't stories change a little bit every time we tell them? It's also about escapism, the way it can help, the way it can harm. I think the best way I can put this, is that when this was adapted to cinema, they basically had to gut a lot of it to make it "child friendly" (absolute bullshit, this is a perfect story as it is).

I think I would have loved this if I had read it as a child, or if I had read it for pitches for Jewlet, but as an adult, it left me incredibly cold. I mean, you’re not wrong about the idea of stories making us lose our grip on who we are, and the dangers of escapism, and I love that Bastian remains fucking pathetic, and I LOVE that one can talk about how escapism makes you lose yourself and your ability to engage with the world.

But, basically, I read that pitch and lost my whole goddamn head and assumed I was getting a very different story, and I think THINK it was the idea that they had gutted it to make a children’s story.

And so I thought that it wasn’t going to actually be a children’s story. It is very much a children’s story.

So, love some of the concepts in here, especially about the dangers of trying to rescue people by giving them a story, but even outside of being a children’s novel holy shit is this book rushed as fuck. This should have been a Narnia-level series, we go from thought to thought to thought without pause or any real reflection, and it’s REALLY annoying amidst this garden of good ideas. It’s like I’m at an art museum, but I’m just having to run a 5k through it*. There’s no time to enjoy anything that’s being crafted here.

I do find the Atreyu stuff a little cringe, having grown up around Actual Native People and this being pretty pure European Wonderment at The Noble Stoic Brave but it was written in 1979, and while it wasn’t a particularly human way to write people, it was in fact par for the course. I’ve seen worse, I guess. So, you buy the ticket you take the ride I guess, but I can see Jewlet, who will grow up playing with Brittney Pretty On Top,* being like, ‘uh, okay?’ in much the same way that sort of shit was extremely weird to me as a child because I had the arcane knowledge that The Natives Were Still Among Us. This isn’t me saying I was woke as a child--if I had grown up in *throws dart* Indianapolis I probably would have had the same experience as everyone else, but I grew up in a state where 10% of the population is Native, 30 minutes from the reservation.

And there’s just a fair amount of that kind of thing, and I’m a bit more tolerant of some light exoticism than most people.

Anyway, truthfully, I found the execution poor of a great idea, so I don’t know what Ende is getting so flustered about with the damn movie, which is not great, but like...is this your king? I just EXPECTED more, I guess, on a narrative craft level. Even for a kid’s book! When I say this, I’m comparing it to Narnia, which I find really frustrating at times, or A Wrinkle in Time, or His Dark Materials, all of which are kid’s novels, but do, I think, a good job of pacing and general wordsmithing.

*I would absolutely do this.

**The actual last name of a girl I went to school with

#doc reads

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perexcri · 2 years ago

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That fic was !!! Wordsmith Perexcri strikes again because you always seem to know how to weave them!!!

(This is Fannon btw)

The imagery of Never Have I Ever on the eve of the Apocalypse—it’s like. I can’t even explain why I think it’s so cool—it’s sort of like almost an anachronism? but instead of something modern in a historical setting, it’s something so so normal when nothing in the world is normal. Idk I just woke up and I have a cold so idk if that made any sense, just know that I enjoy it.

Also, ‘All he knows is, each night, when Will rolls over to the edge of the bed they share and Mike’s eyes bore in to his bedroom wall, they always snag against a bloody, crimson heart on a shield, and he thinks he’d been stupid to ever believe anybody else could know him like Will does.’ BEAUTIFUL SO SO MUCH I am going to have this tattooed on the inside of my eyelids so I can look at it forever.

I hope you are doing very well!

(,,,I told my friends I would try to do this off anon for Once, bc I want to be your friend but,,,,I’m a coward☺️)

Thank you for being such a lovely writer!

!! hello fannon!! i hope you recover from your cold soon!! i am sending you a cup of warm soup to ward the illness away~

(this one got long so i'm gonna put the rest under the cut!!)

i'm so glad you liked it!! honestly i think this fic has become my fav i've written this year, so it brings me joy to see others liking it as well :D

what you're saying makes total sense!! i love when the mundane is contrasted with the horrific, like two teenagers playing never have i ever when they both think they're gonna die the next day. i always find little human moments like that impact me more than, like, an extended action sequence

i didn't explicitly use it as inspiration for this fic, but i do think i drew a little from buffy the vampire slayer (like with most apocalypse byler stuff i've written lol) for that contrast!! that show does such a good job of contrasting the mundane and quiet with the loud and horrific. i did think a little about the very last episode of buffy on the night before the big final battle, and there's this very quiet shot of buffy and spike sharing a bed in her basement,,,that's kinda the vibe i was going for, and i felt happy with how it came out in the actual story :D

AHHHH i love when people point out lines they like!! that's one of my favorites from this one - i remember writing it last night and kinda staring at my screen for a second like "oh. okay. don't know where that came from but i guess we'll roll with it" lol

FANNONNNNNN please please please don't feel like you have to keep using anon!! i would love to be your friend!! honestly a big reason why i post fics or do stuff on tumblr is because i want to talk with other people who are suffering from the same brainrot as me!! i've literally had full-blown conversations in the comments on some of my fics because i've really enjoyed getting to talk to other people (even though my social anxiety makes it very hard sometimes to talk but i'm being so brave about it). and honestly, i think fandom stuff is supposed to feel more like a communal thing?? idk i love responding to comments or getting asks or getting your messages anytime i post something because it makes it feel like i'm interacting with other people who like similar things as me, rather than me just like,,,mindlessly pushing stuff out into the void and never hearing anything back, or something like that. idk if that makes sense, but tl;dr: i would love to be your friend!! (but if you are too anxious about it i totally understand because, again, re: social anxiety)

thank you once again for stopping by fannon!! your words always mean a lot to me, and i hope you get to feeling better soon!! :] 💜💜💜

#ask #fannon

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sarcasticdolphin · 2 years ago

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More Mozart/Colloredo and well ... a special guest (or two). Cut is needed or [spoiler reason]

Wolfgang’s music changed the longer he lived with Colloredo. The symphonies and grand concert pieces - they were the same. But there was more solo piano music, which he played for Colloredo and Colloredo alone.

There was one piece though, which he never could quite finish. The Requiem. It had been commissioned before he went back to the prince by a fair blonde man in a strange blue and black suit on behalf of his unnamed master.

Colloredo knew it existed, but other than that he had never asked after it. Never in the waking world anyway. Wolfgang had an odd dream every few years. The archbishop, all in black, but not the same black he wore in the world of the waking, would ask after the Requiem.

There was a chill that wouldn’t leave him when he finally finished it, the years evident in his face. He waited as he always did for Colloredo to return from the premiere, but he must have fallen asleep - he was more tired now than he used to be. When he woke Colloredo was sitting at his bedside, clad all in black.

“How was it, your highness?” Colloredo pulls him close, whispering of the beauty of the performance, of the perfection. His lips and hands are cold. Strange. Usually, Wolfgang is the cold one. The words make Wolfgang groan. Colloredo is an exceptionally skilled wordsmith, but he’s outdone himself. Wolfgang can hear the applause in his ears, the very roar of the crowd, the praise and worship that permeates the air. It’s the one thing he misses.

Colloredo’s tone does change, to unfamiliar subjects. Murmurings of immortality, how Wolfgang’s music is so great it shall stand the test of time, be played centuries, millennia after his death. Wolfgang blushes and turns away. He isn’t that arrogant, or perhaps the archbishop is rarely so blasphemous.

Colloredo’s finger under his chin turns his face back. The kiss is different than Colloredo’s normal kisses. It’s not possessive, just deep and final. And cold, so very cold. Wolfgang feels sleepy and lets his eyes flutter shut, drifting into a cool sea of peace.

#>:D #mozart/colloredo #credit to fitzrove for getting me to think about mozart/colloredo #my fic #poor colloredo #spoiler character #Mozart's requiem #no more tags #cause for once I'm trying not to be too spoilery

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thewokewordsmith · 9 months ago

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#avatar the last airbender #Zuko #the blue spirit #natla #the woke wordsmith #my gifs #do not claim as your own

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writer59january13 · 4 months ago

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Present wedded bliss ain't no touchstone...

double negative meaning golden years joie de vivre of married life unknown

during our sputtering rancorous courtship when skirting within danger zone witnessed countless ruptures courtesy selfish wordsmith, who authored these words. Circa ~ late spring/ early summer 1978 twas at behest of Harriet Harris, thus due credit mother dearest who tried, to bribe, coax, exhort... (protracted effort not all in vain), cuz her second of three progeny, and sole son i.e. (me) to commingle, frolic, immerse myself quintessentially ushering yawping zeal, cuz general disposition courtesy yours truly heavily trended toward solitude, limiting interpersonal opportunities minus those crafted,

videre licet overactive imagination (mine). I took immediate affinity (think duck adapting to water) to milieu of contra dancing and soon became popular with the gals, surprising myself how enjoyable untrammeled pinteresting linkedin hoopla delivered je ne sais quois joie de vivre, (the most fun one could experience without taking off their clothes), me no exhibitionist by a far cry! How fitting and proper to state we (thyself and spouse) met (for reel) and jiggered mine johnson

at Thursday night contra dance Summit Presbyterian Church 6757 Greene Street, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19119 (initially held at Church of Saint Martin-in-the-Fields, Saint Martins Lane, Chestnut Hill, Philadelphia, PA 19118 scads of years past (actually more'n deux times deuce score earth's orbitz around

or quattuor decades ago), whereby the missus claims, she espied (yours truly then as) young lad (bookworm type fella) with boyish good looks and golden locks emblematic of Samson, who would be envious (ha). At four foot eleven Delilah, the petite prospective missus (plus her waist length brunette tresses) ball of fire stood out amidst madding crowd drew attention (mine), yet she vociferously, vigorously, and vehemently still claims initial awkward overtures ascribed to Zison assertiveness. Yours truly, he blatantly admits pranced as novitiate devoid of interpersonal finesse and polish to whit, a mere neophyte in a nutshell hankering to sow wild oats that's zit. Whereby our relationship got off to (how shoal I say) rocky start gallivanting with thee lass, who would eventually take me (grudgingly - ha) as her respective lifelong sweetheart. Unbeknownst to yours truly, pent up unleashed testosterone experienced disquieting alarm adequately adept equipped with strong arm, I tapped into secrete Lucky charm, (albeit surreal environment cavorting amidst madding crowd) helped cultivate feral latent impotent animal husbandry to farm long fallow fresh unadulterated field

jabbering innocent blather, brazenness embarrassingly proliferated, but provocative behavior smote ego (mine) not with irrecoverable harm, analogous to angry bees didst adequately buzzfeeding naiveté beehive ving like metaphorical swarm (smartly stinging me) think freshly cooked cockles and muscles clammy and warm. I eventually acquired figurative ropes regarding dating game basic primal version (at that time apps unnecessary) nevertheless, call of the wild thee woke former slumbering beastie boy needed receptive body to tame, he thus availed himself as lame crash test dummy feebly acquired social skills bungled how to romance a capricious dame readied himself to aim. Aye celebrate thy life partner

with balance and swing proffering courtesy turn exhibiting gratitude occasionally while with linkedin elbows turn a circle punctuating spontaneity with do-si-do. July 25th marks wedding anniversary

delineating, demarcating, denoting, where the missus supposedly

filched mine bachelorhood, whereby justice of the peace Judge Henry Schireson, (who still maintains an office 925 Montgomery Avenue, Suite 100 Narberth, Pennsylvania 19072-1913) accommodated us as we became newlyweds pledging our troth that hot July twenty fifth, I try to recollect any vestige constituting distinguishing, under_scoring outstanding details sifting thru hazy memories of past.

Today references when more' n force gore

and seven years ago tha youngest daughter of William and Sylvia Zison

found her lifetime beau (zoe)

pea ping over a paperback (at present aye got nada clue of the title), unbeknownst to him, he would be

doing lifetime penance as a husband and father, no longer

able to keep his head underground like an ostrich or emu foisted into marriage when flagellated cell didst ova whelm, and subsequently flue max, a panic prone pencil necked geek soon to learn goo goo gaga, and brushing up on Horton Hears a Hoo

learning to swaddle airtight as an igloo though a devout atheist gentile, he attests genealogical lineage linkedin many a Jew but unfortunately only scant details this groom knew,

hence he fabricated

while flushing in the loo,

which sketchy family tree

did include roomy, loony,

goofy, and cookey

offshoots, (essentially deadwood

pruning hooks never took down), hence weak human DNA stock freely germinating cow wards less bright than cloven hoofed bovines moo ching and sometimes tasting virgin Semitic brew, especially espying bear naked lady even yours truly

hollered yabba dabba doo tasting verboten fruit predestined to sire daughters after enjoying despacito while playing flugelhorn spitting sputtering semantic glue whereby biological totally tubular fates loosed full bore obligatory, yet paternal loving chore foisting dada track detour invoking fatherly delight

as fate found me to explore the joys and sorrows engaging das mister Harris chieftain, sans family of four attending, diapering, and pampering galore which necessary task aye could, nor would be able to ignore from which pier rill us infant sea bay bee launched jarring

insightful growing pains attendant 'pon requisite summer re: autotomy offspring, when tears streamed down cheeks as more declarations of independence meant nudging flight while pouring heartfelt love shorering, and anchoring, viz Harris blackstrap - molasses survival skills,

thence giving progeny Thor row lee - wharf fare levying my best damned gluten and MSG free emotional bulwark whar renting channeling concurrently bolstering your preponderent swell alcove

harboring shipshape bon voyage.

Expediting distilled when in the quarts of hue man ovens this neptune salad days steps outside summit Presbyterian Church - and Westview Streets

near Weavers Way,

where yarn not gonna believe,

our traditional Jewish

wedding vows as merely imagined

courtesy fictitious Norwegian Jewish

bachelor farmer wannabe

so please pardon perfectly praiseworthy

precise preferential prevarication page turning suspense filled vaulted sepulchral air ushering the veiled spouse to be while afar off trumpets did blare (arranged by well known matchmaker Harriet Kuritsky) creating the ambiance analogous to a renaissance faire yet contrasted in that this bachelor

and other men related to me segregated with females and males

at a set distance away

i.e. not physically near

dictated by mandates of Hebrew coda stemming from Moses biological tree

which, separate quarters

ample enough to spare

until the proper toll of the bell would peal accompanied by unified yippee!

After Rabbi Boyce officiated

for the groom and bride,

the crowd exalted with cheers

of L’Chaim with chutzpah

oompah sizzling and hot.

Klezmer musicians played schmaltz

which accompanied hoopla as couples did waltz.

All the while family, friends and relatives

blessed the new groom and bride although highly orthodox, the men removed respective skullcap more commonly known as yarmulke some plain others dyed women and children broke out in traditional dance and song while other did clap exemplifying Yahweh to deliver mazal tov and shalom as spiritual guide to the pronounced husband and wife who pledged their troth in a snap.

Toward conclusion

of typical Jewish wedding, a full goblet of kosher red wine got tossed in the air this (in conjunction with crush of emptied wine glass sacred apex rite of passage communicated a sign and marshaled the crowd to begin a local Jerusalem exodus symbolic and clear.

As the newlyweds blissfully

and radiantly strolled arm in arm and exited the Synagogue, the euphoric and excited crowd did house tossed handfuls of uncle Ben’s unconverted libertarian rice grown from norwegian bachelor farmers on nearby organic whole foods farm a chauffeur waited to shuttle newlyweds to honeymoon location passersby waved and bowed and local fire department rang a false alarm.

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atozutara · 5 years ago

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I haven’t been on tumblr in awhile and it’s been even longer since I’ve written anything Zutara centric so please enjoy this drabble. Think of this as a holiday gift to all of my wonderful followers.

Between Lightning and Thunder : A Zutara Drabble

In that moment I realized loved Katara, but she was walking away from me so what could I say?

I thought it would take forever to realize I was in love, but it took the smallest increment of time to fall. A hitch of a breath. A blinking of an eye. The space between seeing lightning and hearing thunder. That’s how it hit me. Like lightning out of the clear blue sky. I was in love. It was the first thing that made sense in my life, and like Katara the one thing that I was completely sure of.

#Zutara #Zuko #Katara #avatar the last airbender #the woke wordsmith #drabble #fanfiction

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nohappypeople · 7 years ago

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Hands up if you’re registered to vote ✋🏼✋🏽✋🏾 #woke #depressingfridgepoems . . #poem #poetry #writingcommunity #fridgepoetry #magneticpoetry #poetsofig #quoteoftheday #igpoets #poetsofinstagram #wordporn #meme #spilledink #poetryporn #emo #instapoem #digitalart #wordsmith #IGersBoston #blackoutpoetry

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papaphone · 7 years ago

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Jostick Burning. (A love song and apology to nature)

Holy holy spirit bled in time Raging like fire Controlled by the tides And I will Find solitude a place uncontrolled All the churches burnt down They left with my soul but gave light So I’d run to the forest where the autumn leaves fall Lay in the meadow where the summer sun glows Stand on the mountains Walk through the streams I am in love with life darling…. And in love we must believe I believe in one nation Would we be free? We are mother earths children Or are we disease in this place We destroy for the good of mankind We can’t shake the logic no matter how hard we try So I’d run to the forest where the autumn leaves fall Lay in the meadow where the summer sun glows Stand on the mountains Walk through the streams I am in love with life darling…. And in love we must believe And I feel my emotions come rise like the waves Crash on my shores and the wash me away If these feeling had answers I know that they don’t You wouldn’t have to tell me I would already know I’d run to the forest where the autumn leaves fall Lay in the meadow where the summer sun glows Stand on the mountains Walk through the streams I am in love with life darling…. And in love we must believe By R.Perkins / Papaphone

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drownedindeepthought · 7 years ago

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Part of this DNA cover that I did a while ago a cappella. “Organs to organisms, tell me what’s being played?” #poetsofinstagram #poetrycommunity #poet #wordporn #woke #wokeaf #innerstand #overstand #wordsmith #soundcloud #soundcloudrapper #soundengineer #soundproduction #audiophile #writersofinstagram #writerscommunity #writerscorner #barz #bars🔥#undergroundhiphop #lyricist #iam #melanated #wakandaforever #thoughts #poetryporn #poetryslam #poetry_addicts #staywoke

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thewokewordsmith · 10 months ago

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#Zutara #Zuko #Katara #atla live action #the woke wordsmith #avatar the last airbender #my gifs

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queer-as-used-by-tolkien · 8 months ago

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I'll agree, with the caveat that it's actually the first medium the story was produced in that's the best. take Star Wars, for example. better as a movie, hands down. because it was conceived as a movie.

stories that are conceived of and produced as books? better as books.

stories that are conceived/produced as podcasts? episodic TV shows? audio dramas? better in that medium.

even within the realm of writing, serial fiction is better as serial fiction than as a book series. fanfic is obviously fanfic, and if adapted to appeal to a fandom-blind audience, would lose some of its shine.

fanfic made into an audiobook format will lose some of its properties. things like punctuation, paragraph breaks, the vibes you get from the spelling of a name or place or fictional word - gone. just reading a book out loud puts it in a different medium that is different to the textual one. you put a voice to the narrative. a tone. the narrator becomes feminine or masculine. even the author becomes perceived as feminine or masculine. these are more nitpicky details but it DOES change.

I heard about a fic once that had a lot of blank space. like a random amount of paragraph breaks before the narrative resumed. it was about a guy dealing with grief from having lost his girlfriend or smth, so the readers assumed the blank space was meant to be reflective on the feelings or whatever.

no. nope. absolutely not.

highlight the blank space and it's actually more story. from the PoV of the dead girlfriend's ghost doing her OWN grieving journey! and also struggling with "oh no my boyfriend can't see me I'm INVISIBLE!" and "wow he's so sad I wish I could help!" transformed the whole story.

can't port that into any other format. Even a physical book. bc you can't select text in a physical book.

that story is inherently and forever bonded to the medium it was conceived and produced in, because that medium was part of the story as it was being conceived.

so much of writing is wordsmithing sentences. don't need that in a movie!

throughout the process of conceiving and producing a story in a given medium, the medium becomes baked-in to the medium to varying degrees, and porting it out will be bad to varying degrees (depending what it's being ported into).

book -> audiobook adaptations are mostly pretty fine. book -> movie? much worse.

movie -> TV show? well enough, perhaps (depending). TV show -> movie? depends, the serial/episodic nature can be quite relevant (i.e. in the case of Miraculous Ladybug) in a way that doesn't port to movie very well. do you have a villain fight every 20 minutes or do you have a longer plot? then again, it also might not be. sometimes it depends.

my point is, original medium is what matters in determining whether book or movie is best, and another factor is whether the original storyteller is the one making the adaptation and whether they're doing it bc of the market/copyrights/etc or whether they decided to of their own free will and are putting their soul into it like they did the first one.

i.e. if George Lucas woke up one day and said "actually yknow what I'm going to write books. to put in all that deep characterization and lore that never made it into the movies" then those could be awesome! (they could also be awful re: shattering a bunch of headcanons and nostalgia and changing the vibes of a lot of things, idk. I haven't seen that sort of thing done so I can't judge it. but as a story, I would say they at least have the potential to be equally as good.)

since movies don't get book adaptations very often, the general statement "books is better than the movies" (when the movie HAS a book to go with it) is true in a broad sense. but I like nitpicking, so. yeah.

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