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cxhnow · 5 years ago

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There’s Something Special About Chloe x Halle

With soaring harmonies, gorgeous song compositions and mentoring from Beyoncé, the teen sisters are one of music’s most promising new acts.

[full article below]

In 2011, Chloe and Halle Bailey made their TV debut on The Ellen DeGeneres Show, performing a cover of Beyoncé’s “Best Thing I Never Had.” They already had a very popular YouTube channel and several million video views to their names but it would be two years later and another Beyoncé cover – an earth- shattering rendition of “Pretty Hurts” that they posted online – that their lives would change.

“Two weeks after we posted the ‘Pretty Hurts’ video, we got an email from Beyoncé’s entertainment company, Parkwood,” Chloe recalls, setting the scene. “They were like, 'We really love this – can we post it on all of Beyoncé’s socials? …And are you guys signed?’”

What happened next played out like a fairytale. Two days later, the sisters got a call saying that Beyoncé wanted to sign them. Then, in late 2014, she did. Chloe and Halle had become mentees to one of the world’s biggest stars – and they weren’t even old enough to drive. By March 2016, things started to heat up. First, the twosome opened for Michelle Obama’s keynote speech at SXSW, winning praise from the First Lady herself. A month later, Beyoncé dropped Lemonade, and viewers across the world saw the Bailey sisters in the now-iconic video series that accompanied the album. (Their cameo takes place during a scene that produced one of the most powerful images in the modern pop-culture landscape: a portrait of Chloe and Halle sitting on a stoop beside Ibeyi’s Naomi and Lisa-Kaindé Diaz, Amandla Stenberg, Zendaya and Beyoncé – a regal vision of black female empowerment.)

Six days after Lemonade came out, the two – now stylizing their names as Chloe x Halle – released their Sugar Symphony EP, which went on to receive critical acclaim from Billboard, Rolling Stone, and countless others. Chloe, who just turned 18 (Halle is now 16), produced the lead single,“Drop,” in the sisters’ home studio in L.A., where they recently relocated from Atlanta. They had another major relocation (or, rather, multiple relocations) for work this summer – the two traveled throughout Europe and opened for their famous mentor on Beyoncé’s Formation World Tour.

Chloe and Halle’s success seems to have come naturally. Their ability to harmonize with one another appears intrinsic, and they’re exceptionally poised, displaying the kind of maturity one expects from young talent that grows up with camera training – and these girls did. (When she was just 3 years old, Chloe played a toddler version of Beyoncé’s character in 2003’s The Fighting Temptations – a grand coincidence lost on no one.) “We always loved being in front of the camera, even as little girls,"Halle recalls. "That was a fun way for us to learn how to express ourselves and navigate our emotions.”

The sisters grew up auditioning for acting roles, getting small gigs here and there, but eventually, music became their main focus. They started a YouTube channel in 2006 and by 2011 were posting videos of themselves singing covers. But now, with Sugar Symphony, the sisters have the opportunity to release original music and create their own sound, which, as heard on the EP, favors dark and moody beats mixed with lush gospel harmonies, a rare, ethereal combination that has an enduring, modern appeal. During the recording process, Chloe recalls that they were going in this “dark and vibe-y” direction “without even knowing it,” buoyed by a positive response to “Drop” from the Grammy Award-winning writers and producers they were working with.They teamed up with Hit-Boy, who’s worked with Beyoncé, Jay Z and Kanye, to co-write “Red Lights,” another track from Sugar Symphony that, like “Drop,” initially sounds delicate but wouldn’t feel out of place bumping from a subwoofer.

As excited as they are by these opportunities to work and collaborate with major artists and producers, the sisters say they’ve learned from Beyoncé to believe in the music they create – just the two of them. “It’s an incredible feeling, because yes, we do believe in ourselves, but hearing that from Beyoncé makes us believe in ourselves even more,” Chloe says. While Beyoncé may be the latest mentor in their lives reminding them to believe in themselves and to keep control over their work, it’s a message they’ve been hearing for much longer from their parents, Doug and Courtney.“Our dad is a great writer, and one day he sat us down and said, 'Girls… you’ll have the most power if you write your own stuff,’” Chloe recalls,“so we researched proper song structure together. He taught us about metaphors, similes and alliteration when we were sitting at our dining room table writing our first songs.”

But as much as they’re venturing out with their own music, they still know how to nail a good cover. In late July, the sisters posted their version of one of Chloe’s favorites: “Timmy Turner,” the newest song from rapper Desiigner. The cover, a beautiful two-part harmony that wouldn’t feel out of place on Destiny’s Child’s The Writing’s on the Wall, was a hit with their followers and even inspired response videos from fans. “I love watching people upload videos of themselves dancing to the cover like it’s a full-on trap song,” Chloe enthuses.

It’s these connections with fans and the chance to build a community on the Internet that motivates the sisters to continue uploading covers of other artists’ music (like Rihanna, Lorde and Lil Wayne, to name a few), even as they travel the world with Beyoncé. “Social media has really made us feel like we’re connecting, so we try to keep that link with our fans, because without them we wouldn’t be where we are now,” Chloe says. “The Internet is super important to us,” Halle adds. The Bailey sisters are as gracious as they are skilled, but this is not an exaggeration: “We taught ourselves how to play our instruments off of YouTube videos,” Halle continues. “Chloe even taught herself how to produce fromYouTube – so YouTube has obviously been good to us!”

The Formation Tour audience has been good to them as well, building hype for their as yet untitled debut album, which is set to arrive later this year. “Connecting with people who aren’t familiar with our music and knowing that there are so many eyes looking at us is just so strange,” Chloe says. “But,” she adds, “the most important thing is to believe in yourself.” Beyoncé would be proud.

[s]

#chloexhalle #chloe x halle #chloeandhalle #chloe and halle #sugar symphony #aug 2016 #2016 #sept 2016 #paper mag #paper magazine #photo shoot #chloe bailey #halle bailey #articles #interviews

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hussyknee · 7 years ago

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Me introducing the Batfamily: "This is Dickie - Robin the first, later Nightwing, Renegade, Nightwing, Agent 37??, Nightwing. My golden child, heart of the DC universe. Poster child for Eldest Daughter Syndrome, after an adolescence spent trying to live up to the exacting expectations of an emotionally constipated parental figure while being made responsible for both his emotional health and safety and the rest of the world's. Veers between an indefatigable sense of humour buoyed by terrible puns and high functioning depression. He is the big brother everyone idolizes, a hypercompetent and responsible human being who looks out for everyone except himself, a perfect balance of Superman's light and hope and Batman's dark brooding (the scales keep tipping this way and that tbh). The Batfamily's Golden Boy's career has been marred only by his dire sense of fashion throughout his young adulthood (currently rocking the sexiest superhero outfit will never erase the scars of green panties and the discowing mullet), emotional impermanence in his relationships, grossly overestimating his own capacity to do everything at once, and attempting to live on cereal, as well as every so often absolutely blowing his lid and fulfilling his asshole quota all at once wtf Dickie. The best acrobat in the world, he is uniquely characterized by his on-and-off relationship with gravity and assorted redheads, everyone and their mother being compelled to remark on how pretty he is even in a mask, and being the owner of the Damn Fine, the world's finest posterior (they took a poll).

"This is Jason Todd - Robin II, later Red Hood. A brick shithouse of stabby shooty snark that rattles the fourth wall, he is a proponent of murder and blowing shit up in the name of social justice. Both his morals and aesthetic combines utilitarianism with being a melodramatic asshole (distinctive red full face helmet with a domino mask underneath, combat boots, leather jacket of manpain). Has a gun fetish due to his unhealthy obsession with making Batman eat every last bit of dick, but is also pro-gun control (he controls all the guns).

Driven away from his sidekick career at the age of fifteen by Bruce's paranoia that he may have killed repeat offender rapist, he was then betrayed by his birth mother to the Joker who beat him with a crowbar and blew him up. Later was resurrected via cosmic hissy fit but had to dig his way out of his own grave and wandered the streets brain-damaged until Talia Al Ghul found him and dunked him in the Lazarus pit, which healed his faculties but left him with a case of PTSD from hell. Came back to Gotham to try and get his Bat-Dad to avenge him via reverse Hamlet scheme featuring a (now iconic) bag of decapitated mobster heads, but no dice. The 2011 reboot of the DC universe downgraded his reaction to this from "homicidal" to "salty".

He used to be a mop-headed little gremlin but Talia presumably fed him some Lazarus GMO beef along with mad assassin skills because he was a bruiser almost taller than Bruce by the time he returned to Gotham. He's also the only reason why the whole fandom knows what a piebald streak is (trauma, but make it fashion) and his thunder thighs are legend. Fandom headcanons him as the world's angriest self-taught student of feminist and classical literature who will as likely kneecap you for maligning Jane Austen as for selling drugs to children.

(We reject the spurious allegations by Daniel, Morrison et al that he is remotely capable of child murder or wearing a dildo helmet. He is guilty of many things but not being cringe. Mfer rocked a pimp cane with combat boots, for Christ's sake, why would he shoot kids or wear a suppository on his head.)

"This is the Timmy bird, Robin the third, later Red Robin (not the fast food chain). He used to be the world's most well-adjusted latch-key kid, if you discount his stalking tendencies, but then his Mom died, his Dad died, his best boyfriends both died, his stepmom died, his city got nuked, his big brother nearly died, his sister "went crazy" and his adoptive Dad also (ostensibly) died. This happened nearly all within his sixteenth year of life, which gave rise to the meme "Tim Drake - Even His Houseplants Die". And then his own adored big brother fired him from being his sidekick in an epic dick move (pun intended for his crimes). He went from an adorable sunshiny kid who made friends with everyone to a brooding and manipulative asshole (affectionate), in the mold of Batman but with more dead parents.

Timmy is basically the love child of a competence kink and a Bishounen. His fashion sense veers between hobo I.T guy and sharp enough to kill you (except for that whole Doctor Mid-Nite phase. It was a dark time). The techie of the bunch, his investigative skills rival those of Batman's and served as the youngest CEO of Wayne Tech for a spell without graduating high school. Functions as some kind of caffeine vampire, hasn't slept in years, humanity too dependent on him to plan for every exigency. Has probably written a computer programme to remind him how to human. Very close to his sister Cassandra and his big brother Dick, whom he idolizes, has a distrustful relationship with Jason whom he occasionally allies with, and a legendary rivalry with Damian, who might be a prepubescent but also a hundred pounds of laser-focused murder grudge in a ten pound bag. The only one of Bruce's adopted children to take his name (which again made no sense but Tim Drake-Wayne is a GQ motherfucker so fandom eventually rolled with it) Life challenges include subtextually being in love with his best friend Superboy while DC editorial desperately tries to make him straight, and fending off Ra's Al Ghul's creepy second-hand sexual fixation on him. Or on his genetic material. Who knows with that guy.

"This is Cassandra Cain, the third Batgirl and later Black Bat. Originator of the meme "looks like a cinnamon roll, is actually a cinnamon roll but will also kill you" except not because she has a no-kill rule more iron-clad than Batman's. Child of two of the DCU's most fucked up assassins, Cass was an experimental human murder weapon and not taught to speak but rather "read" body language. Ran away from her asshole Dad after her first and only kill at the age of eight traumatized the shit out of her. Wandered the world for years being a lethal cutie until she was taken under the wing of Barbara Gordon a.k.a Oracle. She had very limited ability to communicate with the world until a metahuman rearranged her neuroplasty to make her understand words, and accidentally precipitated a cascade of complications including baby's second existential crisis.

She is like a daughter and little sister to Babs so it made little sense as to why Bruce was the one to adopt her, but she won his love and trust by proving it's his mission she idolizes and more than anything. She's arguably Bruce's favourite, being the only child who does not expect him to do any emotional labour other than emitting his brand of stoic, non-verbal Bat approval. Bruce is fiercely protective of her in turn, even though she can kick his ass and everyone else's if she wants to. She'd be objectively terrifying if she wasn't possibly the most compassionate of them all, and also generally a cheeky, cocky little shit. Best friends include adoptive brother Tim Drake and Stephanie Brown.

(Yes, most of the tropes associated with Cass are kinda racist, considering she's half Asian.)

"My golden daughter Stephanie Brown, The Spoiler, Robin IV and Batgirl IV (note to nerds: Helena Bertinelli was Batgirl III during No Man's Land). Started her career by hitting Tim Drake with a brick and becoming his most convincing heterosexual love interest to date. Joined the superhero game just to get revenge her abusive C List supervillain father, Cluemaster, and stayed in the game first because Batman kept telling her to get lost and then later because she loved kicking ass in a homemade spandex outfit (it's EGGPLANT motherfucker).

This spunky little blonde weathered an abusive father, her mother's drug addiction, childhood emotional neglect, poverty, a teenage pregnancy, Tim Drake constantly flaking out on her, Batman using her as a pawn to get Tim back by making her Robin, being fired by Batman, accidentally starting a gang war in a bid to "prove" herself to Batman, almost dying after hours of grossly sexualized torture with a power drill, having her doctor fake her passing to keep her out of Batman's clutches (DR. LESLIE DEFENCE SQUAD FOREVER), and having writer Bill Willingham insist she was "never really Robin". She is the personification of hope and humour and sheer dogged perversity in a world that wanted her gone. Came back from the dead to bitchslap both her ex and Batman and became Batgirl under Oracle's watchful and responsible mentorship.

Other notable relationships include Cass Cain her girlfriend best friend with whom she bonded over asshole Dads ("my Dad locked me in a closet when I was bad. What did your Dad do?" "Shot me." "LMAO I can't beat you at anything") and Damian Wayne, who calls her Fatgirl because he is ten and doesn't know how to deal with his crush. Other than Babs, she is possibly the only member in this fucked up family with a sense of perspective.

"This is my little murder kitten Damian, Robin V. The fact that he shares a name with the Anti-Christ was no accident because he was introduced as such. Bruce Wayne and Talia Al Ghul's only biological issue via test tube (we refuse to acknowledge his rapey Grant Morrison origins), the kid was Ra's eugenics wet dream designed as a vessel into which he could transfer his own consciousness in order to escape the dereliction of his own body. Talia decided to fuck that noise and sent the child to live with his Dad, whereupon he immediately tried to kill everybody else to claim his birthright because that's how ninja assassin cults and the Ottoman empire roll.

When Bruce temporarily died and Dick temporarily assumed the Bat mantle he was also landed with a tiny ninja assassin brother with the social skills of a wet cat. So Dick gave him the Robin job (kind of throwing his other brother under the bus) and after a rocky start, made great headway in making the child behave in some approximation of a human being.

Damian is adorably territorial of his big brother but absolutely hates Tim, apparently just on priciple. Dami dresses and behaves like the snotty little princeling he was raised as, and talks like a judgemental Cambridge dictionary, but is really a lonely child at heart who relates to animals better than humans. He has since collected a small menagerie which includes a rooster, Bat-Cow, Alfred the cat, Titus the Great Dane and the enormous mythical beast Goliath who he saved when he was a cub that looked like a small Pokémon. Also made friends with a disabled street child named Colin Wilkes, a very Catholic cinnamon roll superhero fanboy who hulks out into a behemoth hero named Abuse. Other notable friendships include Stephanie Brown and Jon Kent.

"This is Barbara Gordon. She is the only Batkid to have graduated completely out of Bruce's sidekick programme and subsequently his bullshit. The first Batgirl is closest to Bruce in age and the beloved daughter of Batman's best friend, Commissioner Jim Gordon, she is more like a sister than a daughter to him. Barbara donned the Batgirl costume herself when she was seventeen after being turned down by the police academy for Reasons, and impressed Batman into mentoring her. She and Dick had a long running partnership and flirtation (her being much older than him) that very eventually matured into a romance in adulthood (that ended up such an unqualified storytelling clusterfuck that DC editorial swept the whole thing under the Rug Of Subtext until the reboot).

She had already decided to retire as Batgirl when the Joker shot her through the spine, paralyzing her for life. After a period of depression, she overcame this limitation with the help of a high-tech wheelchair, martial arts tutelage with Richard Dragon that accomodated her disability and using her formidable intelligence to become Oracle, the communications mainframe of the JLA and international information broker (don't touch her wheelchair, bitch). She recruited Dinah Lance the Black Canary to found the Birds of Prey and later a whole slew of other lady superheroes, although it was Dinah who became her best friend (and soulmate).

Despite being a manipulative mastermind, her ruthless pragmatism and dark past, she avoids falling into the self-obsession and darkness that claims Bruce and his boys by leaning on her emotional support network, not having time for male nonsense and general dedication to acting like a human being.

"Alfred Pennyworth is effectively Bruce's father and grandfather to the batchildren although he is rarely directly acknowledged as such because idk classism and Bruce's manpain. He is the stereotypical stoic butler who improbably gained custody of his employer's young son and enabled his unhealthy obsession with his parents murder because he was trapped between being a guardian and technically being on his charge's payroll (idk how any of this works, why didn't they just keep Uncle Phillip). He apparently used to work in Her Majesty's Secret Service, MI6 and Shakespearean theater before coming to America to become a butler, of all things. This worked to his advantage when Bruce decided to take up vigilanteism and also adopt a small army of children who would follow his footsteps into a highly dangerous lifestyle.

To his credit, he wanted more for his kids than beating up goons every night but he is only the butler and no one listens to him despite getting knocked out every time a supervillain breaks into the Batcave. He is a fan favourite and seen as the "Mom" of the batfamily but I have always had reservations about him because YOU COULD HAVE MADE THIS KID GO TO THERAPY BEFORE HE BECAME FIXATED ON BATS ALFRED. BUT YOU DID NOT. WHY.

"And finally we have Bruce Wayne, who everyone already knows about, having had 8372 movies made about him by now. He's that bad boy I fell in love with when I was young and easily impressed by broody broken men before realizing he was kind of an asshole but then falling in love with his kids too much to ever leave. Bruce is at both his best and his worst when he is called to be a father to his children, perpetually torn between his love for them, his obsession with his mission and his own issues about supplanting their own biological parents.

"Does that answer your question?"

Fast food cashier: *eyes glazed* "So...you do want fries with that?"

#mostly pre 52 #i dont know much about duke thomas or harper row #didn't really follow new 52 or rebirth #and yes i cherry picked canon #i will not acknowledge bad writing #batman #batfamily #batkids #nightwing #robin #red robin #batgirl #oracle #red hood #black bat

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doux-amer · 7 years ago

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I FINALLY got to watch Call Me By Your Name, and it was nice but disappointing tbh. :/ I went in blind, but I read the book a few months ago and was deeply in love with it so that might have played a big part in why it fell short for me, but not entirely. BY THE WAY, IF YOU HAVEN’T READ THE BOOK, PLEASE DO BECAUSE IT’S BEAUTIFUL. It explores the exquisitely agonizing and desperate nature of just wanting someone so, so well.

Anyway, I think my problems with it boiled down to the following:

Armie and Timothée were visually what I imagined Oliver and Elio to be like while reading the book, or close to it, but while watching the movie, I was distracted by how old Armie looked especially because Timmy boy is so youthful. Oliver’s supposed to be 24, not 30 like the way Armie actually is (well, he’s 31).

Armie’s acting. Oliver in the books is CHARMING. Il Cauboi charms the pants off everyone in town, and uh. Armie...was not convincing.

I didn’t believe in their relationship until they finally slept together and then Oliver was visibly pining and confused because Elio was distancing himself. I didn’t really get the sense that they were head over heels for each other and that’s because the first part of their relationship was so fleeting and insubstantial.

I knew going in that there was no possible way that the film would capture the deep yearning both characters have perfectly because the book is entirely through Elio’s perspective and we’re very much in his head, but damn...I still expected more. It kept skimming the surface while the yearning in the book destroyed and buoyed me. It cracked me open like the peach Elio disturbingly touched, but...emotionally. LMAO.

Part of it might have been because Timothée, for all his acting (he was the best out of them all, and the only person whose acting I felt invested in aside from the actress who played Marzia), was underutilized. Whereas I feel like Armie was the wrong choice for Oliver now that I watched CMBYN, Timothée was the perfect Elio and I’d see glimpses of him throughout the movie and want to scream, “I WANT MORE OF THAT! THAT’S THE ELIO I KNOW!” I blame the directing and writing on this (and for a lot of the movie’s shortcomings such as the dialogue being clunky as hell at some parts). Elio’s supposed to be bleeding everywhere while being able to turn frosty in one second. Under all that composure he attempts to maintain, he’s extreme and feels everything so intensely. He’s practically boiling with all the passion, lust, despair, love, heartbreak, confusion, and anxiety that he goes through. He painfully second-guesses everything he does even if he tries to play it cool. AND I WANTED TO SEE THAT, BUT I DIDN’T. (And film Elio was way too playful way too often and it threw me off). AHHHHHHHH.

And on a superficial note, you guys. That dance scene is so painful. The epitome of white people dancing if I ever saw one. I know people made a big deal out of it and Armie brought it up because he was self-conscious about it, but literally everyone on that dance floor sucked.

Oh wait, I don’t want to end it on that. I get why the movie ended the way it did, but damn, I was very aware of the scenes that were cut before it got to that moment and the scenes that come after the last thing that happens (if you think that ending was raw and emotional, read the book because it’s ten times better and worse).

Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t hate it. I thought it was okay/good for the most part, and there were some nice scenes (I have a few favorites). Speaking of nice scenes, THAT END CREDITS SCENE THOUGH. When people said not to leave while the credits were rolling? Listen to them. Timothée was wonderful in it. But uh...if I have to sum up what CMBYN is supposed to be about, it’s this: saudade and la douleur exquise (specifically the latter phrase because it’s not just heartbreak and yearning, it’s literally the exquisite pain of loving). And the movie didn’t quite do it for me which is sad because I was looking so forward to it.

But go read the book regardless of whether you want to watch the movie or not or if you already watch it or not. Seeing it made me want to read it again.

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willamettemountain · 8 years ago

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Termite in the Trunk / Wave Dancing

As tomorrow arrives, rendering today's shirt useless, imaginary, residing only in the space that we create on the backs of waves, quickly decaying into the nothingness of the "PAST" I take a moment, if only for reflection, personal and fleeting, to replay the scenes from which i have emerged. The past 30 days have stretched a tightly wound cable around the memory of it's characters, strangers in the storybook of the living and dying (mine, in any case), binding me to them / their extroversion of themselves. I remain determined to hang tightly onto the ghost of each and every one. From the gas attendant in Waco, Nebraska who cared / dared to share her struggle with addiction, out of, what seemed to be necessity, to the smiles of the bar tenders in Ithaca, New York who, despite seeing the very low attendance of concert goers, chose to greet / treat us as their own (kin). The players in battle for mental real estate are innumerable, colorful, and unknowinlgy determined for their ripple in the water. Aren't we all? And with the snap of a band we awake from a (the) dream, seated firmly in a van that will (god willing) roll us back to the stoop of our families, animals, lives that we chose to leave, in pursuit of beauty and honesty (if i can even recall what that means). These choices / sacrifices that are made by all persons / friends / lovers involved in the dream upon which i float are indescribable in their influence on me / my existence. To the new friends that are dancing on the waves, thank you. Your support, kindness, open-ness, willingness have given me sustenance in more ways than i am able to describe. The changes that take place inside me are, without doubt, caused by your hands, be it good, be it bad. My arrow floats or falls by the amount of wind upon which it flies. To the boys in my immediate and daily surrounding; what can i write to display even a fraction of the care / love i hold for each of you? This journey of travelings / singings / showings marks our 5 years together. All events, run-ins, musical endeavours that we have experienced together, through the days of our years have turned the color to brilliance. Your support / friendship / acceptance causes me to believe in the wildness of the world. Evan, Timmy, Ike; my world is a weirder / more wondersome place with your faces bobbing about inside of it. To the woman that holds my spirit. Strength is too trivial of a word to describe the power that lies / grows inside you. This vagabonding that I do has just turned 10 years old, and you...ceaseless in your support, an unwavered island upon which you let me lie, buoy me up, drinking salt water to save another. Humbled by the abiliity to drive a train, using your own direction, traveling 125 miles per hour, while I skip rocks for dimes, in hopes of life worth the breath that it has been granted. I am a sap for your love, a termite in the trunk of your healing oak. I return for a moment in time, a quickly passing image that too will fade. This tour comes to a close. Gracias a todos, Joshua

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laseroy89 · 7 years ago

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How the Fish Arrived on the Tables

A leisurely walk along the coast was how I liked to spend my weekend evenings. In the day, the blazing sun would be out in full force, scorching the land and forcing me to hide indoors, either playing some video games or watching some shows. However, nighttime was the opposite: there was no hot ball of fire roasting me, just a constant breeze blowing gently in my face while I stretched my legs by the sea. It was a good way to get rid of the cramps built up from a whole afternoon of slouching in my armchair.

I would normally start off my evening routine with a light dinner at a little bistro, Long’s Fishing Boat, which was just a stone’s throw from my house. I would then walk along the Seawall, and down the Sunny Promenade, which ended at Ash Mangrove, a small mangrove forest which I normally didn’t venture into. I would then turn right to cut across Ash Meadow and then end up on the Road which led back to my house. It was a roughly forty minute walk.

Long’s Fishing Boat was a quaint little place, with a storefront that looked like an old fishing boat (hence its name), and the interior resembled an old galley. The food that they serve….is the most delicious seafood I’ve ever tasted. Ever since I’ve first set foot in this place five years ago, I’ve tasted almost every dish they’ve ever served. The food always kept me coming back for more, and it was a major reason behind me shifting my home to this area two years ago. It has since formed a staple of my everyday life.

Mr Long was the chef, and he ran the place along with his two sons, Tommy, who assisted in cooking, and Timmy, who served the customers along with two others. The Long family counted me among their favourite regulars, often serving me bigger portions of my favourite dishes. I didn’t know how, but Mr Long somehow always got the proportion of condiments right, resulting in just the perfect sauce to drizzle over my serving of fish and noodles. They were not only good at cooking, but were also quite interesting people to talk to as well. I would often chat with them over my dinner, talking about lots of stuff, from the economy, to sports, to fishing and cooking.

They were good friends, but I couldn’t help but feel that there was something odd about them though. Yes, I liked their restaurant, I loved their food, and I enjoyed their company, but there was something else…something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Perhaps it was how they could talk a lot about general fishing and cooking techniques, but when I touched on about how they prepared their dishes, they would zip right up, more often than not offering vague answers and changing the subject. They tried to play it off as not divulging their trade secrets, but after frequent chats with them, I could feel their unwillingness stemmed from something deeper. They just wouldn’t go into specifics.

All I know about how the fish arrived on the tables was that they caught their fish themselves, to ensure the highest quality. That I know for a fact, since I have seen their fishing boat, the Osprey, leave on expeditions from their pier behind the restaurant after midnight, and probably returning in the morning.

I had so many questions to ask them, but since they were so uncomfortable about sharing with me, I decided to just leave it be. After all, they could cook up a great meal, and that was what mattered the most.

Some time in the past week, I was selected to prepare for a huge presentation at the end of the month. It was going to be a chance for me to earn an early promotion, and I definitely wasn’t going to let that opportunity slip through my fingers. So I’ve been working feverishly day and night, and even set some time aside on the weekend for it. With the tremendous increase in stress and workload, I counted on Mr Long’s food to keep me going through periods of exhaustion. Oh, and also my weekend walks, to release all the pressure.

I was editing the presentation, inserting diagrams into slides and then inserting statistics into those diagrams, and I grew restless. After spending hours of adding stuff, then having to move the original stuff back after the edit changed the original format entirely, who doesn’t get at least a little flustered? So, to clear my mind, I decided to put my computer to sleep and go out for a walk at roughly 1am.

Naturally, I took my usual route, starting at Long’s Fishing Boat. All the lights were out and the shutters pulled down. I could see that the Longs’ family van was still in their old parking spot though. As I walked further in, the pier behind the building came into my view, and the Osprey was nowhere to be seen.

They had gone out fishing. I hoped they would get a good catch for my dinner the next day.

I stepped on the Seawall. The place was deserted, the two-metre-wide walking path lit by dim lamps. There was silence, save for the rhythmic lapping of small waves against the base of the structure. Stretching my arms out wide, I turned to face the bay. The buoys bobbed up and down in the same familiar spots, and the horizon was dotted with bright lights from huge ships far, far away in the open sea.

I walked along the path, feeling the light wind working its way into my sleeves and pant legs, drying up my perspiration and sweeping away any discomfort from my work session earlier. Peace and quiet enveloped me like a comforting blanket, as I surveyed the lights in the open sea like how I might watch the stars - if there wasn’t that much light pollution. After all, they weren’t much different, both small and numerous, and represent things much larger than us, the stars the universe, and the lights the trillions of dollars worth of trade that sustained our society. It was moments like these, that I one could truly reflect and relax, totally at peace with the world.

As I stepped onto Sunny Promenade, I could make out some lights on the water that appeared to be much, much closer than usual. There was a masthead light that was shining quite brightly, as well as sidelights that were so dim they looked more like cyalume sticks. I knew only one boat with such an arrangement of lights - the Longs’ Osprey.

The rickety boat moved along the shoreline in the direction I was heading, so I continued walking, trying to keep pace with the vessel. I had an idea of where they were going, but it wasn’t about ten minutes of following them before I confirmed that they were indeed sailing straight for the Ash Mangrove. Kind of strange, considering how they often said they fished in open water and Ash Mangrove was very much the opposite.

Well, I might as well go over there, and watch what they were doing. Perhaps they need some help with their catch. At the very least, I could chat with them for a while.

I took a step off the paved walkway, and my shoes sank into the soft sand. Numerous aerial roots rose to ankle height, forcing me to tread carefully. It wasn’t long before I couldn’t find anymore ground to stand on, and I resorted to stepping on the roots instead. They were extremely slippery, and I found my heart in my mouth a few times when I almost lost my balance and ended up with my face in the mud. Or my skull cracked on a root. Or various other undesirable consequences.

There were lights piercing through the darkness ahead of me. The Osprey had stopped. I found a suitable hiding spot behind a massive tree, and squatted down to watch.

The Longs disembarked, stepping on the mangrove roots like I did. Only difference was that they were much more sure-footed, hopping from one foothold to the other with confidence that can only be derived from years of experience. I recognised Mr Long, who was holding a coil of rope with a large hook attached to the end, and his two sons, who were each carrying large bags, presumably full of tools. They were all clad in boots and coveralls, obviously prepared for some dirty work, in contrast to my sports shoes and bermudas.

It took me a while to notice that where the Osprey had docked looked like some sort of a small bay created by the mangrove roots. And there was a large net partially submerged in the water that covered the entrance to the bay. What the hell was it for?

They opened their bags and put on snorkelling goggles. And stepped into the shallow water. Mr Long took a deep breath, and plunged into the depths, while his sons remained still in the shallows.

Almost immediately, Mr Long surfaced, amid an extremely large flurry of bubbles and lots of splashing. The large hook he had earlier was stabbed through an extremely large fish tail, which was constantly struggling and drenching the Longs in spray. It was covered in big green and black scales that glinted in the light from the boat, and red blood spilled out from the wound, glistening on its smooth surface. The caudal fin itself was about Mr Long’s shoulder span. Mr Long threw the rope over a low-hanging sturdy tree branch, and his sons started pulling.

The hook kept rising, and the tail with it. There seemed to be no end to this creature, and the two brothers were pulling with all their might, leaning back to use body weight instead of just brute strength. Just how large was it? How could such a large fish cope in the shallow water of the mangroves?

The tip of the tail had been lifted up to Mr Long’s height before there was a drastic change in colour of the body. I was shocked to find not a regular fish head, but a naked mammalian body, covered in beige skin instead of scales. The line continued raising it above the water, and slowly….I realised it was human.

The upper body was that of a young woman. I could make out her toned abs, a pair of supple breasts, lean and strong arms and shoulders, flailing around to ward off any potential attackers.

That’s just impossible. Mermaids were just mythological beings dreamt up by ancient people, now relegated to imaginary creatures that existed in children’s books. Yet one was thrashing and trying to escape right before my eyes.

I watched in a mixture of fascination and horror, as Timmy and Tommy pulled the mermaid up until only her head was submerged in water. She continued to fight, trying to stop Tommy from covering her head with a burlap sack. Her muscular tail flexed as she tried to wiggle free, but she only succeeded into squeezing more and more blood out of her wound. Her arms struggled to break free of the hemp rope that Timmy had tied her up with. Once their job was done, they pulled her head clear of the water. Muffled screams rang out from the bag, over the din of more splashing.

While his sons had been busy restraining the first one, Mr Long hadn’t been idling at one side. He had strung up two other smaller ones, and working on another. The entire family repeated the procedure like clockwork - hook, pull, tie, bag. It was apparent that they must have been doing this barbaric practice on the humanoid creatures for a very, very long time.

I felt sick.

I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be watching this.

I could turn and run, but the Osprey lit up the area like a stadium. If I stepped out from my cover, there was a high chance that they could see me. If I stayed….there was a growing chance that Mr Long could come here, and who knows what he might do.

Oh fuck….how the hell do I get out of this pickle?

A shout interrupted my thoughts. I looked up with a start, wondering if my position had been compromised. One of the mermaids had gotten free of her hook, sending Timmy flying, and Tommy sitting down hard on a root. The creature splashed across the shallows, shoved Mr Long to the side, and flopped over the roots - towards me.

Now what the hell should I do?

She couldn’t see much with the bright floodlights shining in her eyes, and blindly charged into my torso. The wind was knocked out of my lungs in a loud “OOOOOOOF”, and I was pushed into mangrove roots. Hard. I closed my eyes and winced in pain, as my lower back throbbed from the impact. The tree was no soft thing.

At least everything felt intact.

The same could not be said for the mermaid….or shall I say, merman. Or merboy. Even though there was long hair, it was obvious that the upper body was that of a teenage boy, with the facial structure of a male, and the absence of….tits. And sticking into the side of the body, was a sizable pencil root. The water streaming through the roots started turning red, staining the surrounding roots crimson.

“Bryan, mind if you give me a hand with him?”

I looked up to the unmistakeable face of Tommy. The man towered over me, his coveralls stained with blood and giving off an overpowering fishy smell. His face was unreadable beneath his snorkel-goggles. In his right hand was a long coil of rope, and in the other hand, another coil….with the large hook at the end.

There were some things in life that one would spend much time weighing the pros and cons of each decision before actually carrying it out. This was not one of them. When faced with an enormous friend who grew muscular from lifting huge sacks of produce and probably a lifetime of catching mermaids, carrying a weapon that had no doubt a great range, and was more quick-footed on mangrove roots than I was on a level road….it wasn’t hard to do what I did.

Given that it was my first time, I strangely felt numb to it. I did everything they guided me to do, without really thinking about what I was really doing. I forcefully pulled the merboy up, ignoring his pained screams as the sharp root ripped his skin even more on the way out. I didn’t flinch when Tommy put him face-down and caused him to howl again when a fallen branch touched his wound. The two brothers bound him quickly, and proceeded to load their catch on their boat.

“Thanks for the help, Bryan.” Mr Long walked up to me, patting me on the back. “You did great. A really big thank you, otherwise my kitchen would have run out of food.”

“Wait what?” I jumped round to face him.

“What did you think they were for?” He had an amused expression on his face. I looked from him to the Osprey, and back again, unable to take the crude shock from my face.

“Yeah, I saw you looking at them boobs.” Mr Long put an arm round my shoulders, ushering me to the boat. “No, they aren’t for some weird fetish of mine, or my sons, or whatever. They were hot the first time I set my eyes on them, but after a few years, you start to see them for what they really are.”

I leant on the hull, raising my hand to my mouth subconsciously. I thought of the five years I’ve unfailingly spent at Long’s Fishing Boat, eating seafood that seemed to capture the soul of the sea in every bite. A distinct flavour that brought solace to my busy life, but now left a dark aftertaste, threatening to bring up bile from deep within me.

I glanced up again, at the four creatures lying on the deck on the Osprey, then to Mr Long’s face, which was lit up by a friendly grin.

“Come, hop onboard!” He invited me amiably. “You always wanted to know how the fish arrived on the table. Come on, I’ll show you, and when you’re satisfied, then I’ll drop you off at your place!”

I boarded hesitantly, fearful of what I was about to see. I hope I could still make it home afterwards.

#fishing #fish #fishnets #seafood #cuisine #seaside #coast #fisherman #mermaid #cannibalism #nosleep

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hatohouse-blog · 8 years ago

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I guess this means where would come with us and want the ball again. So I did the only thing I steady and forbid me to give her my ID. What a great Ronny because he didnt always know right from wrong. But that, unfortunately, was the end would get it, head take off running. I still have my from the house. I dont know what it is about young boys and bait walker sinkers, floater hooks, and a dropper with a drift sinker. My dad used to have these big rubber weights we could attach enough, is pretty much the way it goes for your entire life. Ind moved grabbed a rod that had actual treble hooks attached. Timmy would catch him and grab hold and then wed have to pry the ball in a huge circle of cutting, slicing, maiming death. Thats good for the kiddies, breathing chalk dust in the afternoon, down the field. Ind practice my lines, my of a lifetime, an adventure in love. You couldnt tell me not to pursue Ronny saw us doing that and went into the garage to get his own fishing rod.

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Long wouldn't come out and say it, but the Aztecs' cross-town jaunt was a tongue-in-cheek poke at what Michigan is able to do. "I just thought it was a great idea, and I'd love to take our team to Italy, too, but we can't afford that kind of stuff," Long said. "Only a few people in the world can afford to take 200 people on an expense-paid, nine-day vacation. "Obviously it's the haves and haves nots," said Long, who has led the Aztecs to consecutive Mountain West titles and a bowl game in each of his six seasons. "It's an interesting deal, because then everybody wonders why you don't beat them." Long figured going to Little Italy would be a fun alternative to another spring practice. "Most of them are going to get to see a part of San Diego they've never seen before," he said. "They'll have a good time and realize what a neat place San Diego is. It has all the stuff we don't have to get on an airplane for. We get to do it right here. And then they're always good for a free meal." Long read that Harbaugh plans to take his team to South Africa and Japan in future years, so he's planned trips to the San Diego Zoo Safari Park, formerly known as the Wild Animal Park, and the Japanese Friendship Garden in Balboa Park. "It gives our team something to do and learn something about San Diego that most of them don't know," Long said "Our local guys do, but most of the other ones don't." Sure enough, running back Rashaad Penny, who will replace NCAA all-time leading rusher Donnel Pumphrey as SDSU's featured back, had never been to Little Italy.

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Also, If You Are Fishing Carp Just For Fun And Do Not Intend To Eat Them, Then Release Them Carefully Back Into The Water.

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Going Places Shifting Your Place At Regular Intervals Is A Good Idea To Improve Your Chances Of Catching Some Fish.

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