#* oratorio / answer.

[undying-love]

Paul's grief over time: A Compilation

“During the session [in 1981] Paul fell into a lugubrious mood. He said, ‘I’ve just realized that John is gone. John’s gone. He’s dead and he is not coming back.’ And he looked completely dismayed, like shocked at something that had just hit him. ‘Well, it’s been a few weeks now.’ He said, ‘I know, Eric, but I’ve just realized." (Eric Stewart)

“It’s still weird even to say, ‘before he died’. I still can’t come to terms with that. I still don’t believe it. It’s like, you know, those dreams you have, where he’s alive; then you wake up and… 'Oh’.” (Paul, 1986)

"Occasionally, it wells up. Y'know, and I'm at home on the weekend suddenly and I start thinking about him or talking to the kids about him and I can't handle it." (Paul, 1987)

"Is there a record you like to put on just to hear John’s voice?" I ask Paul the next day. Paul looks startled. He fumbles. “Oh, uh. There’s so much of it. I hear it on the car radio when I’m driving.” No, that’s not what I mean", I persist. "Isn’t there a time when you just wish you could talk to John, when you’d like to hear his voice again?" For some reason, he instead responds to the original question.“Oh sure,” he says and looks a little taken aback. ‘Beautiful Boy". (1990)

"Also not obvious is that McCartney [for the Liverpool Oratorio] has penned a gorgeous black-spiritual-like piece for mezzo-soprano that intones the last words spoken to John Lennon as he lay dying of gunshot wounds in the back of a New York police car -- "Do you know who you are?" McCartney gets a bit choked up at one point when he reveals, "Not a day goes by when I don't think of John.” (1991)

"Delicious boy, delicious broth of a boy. He was a lovely guy, you know. And it gets sadder and sadder to be saying “was”. Nearer to when he died I couldn’t believe I was saying “was”, but now I do believe I’m saying “was”. I’ve resisted it. I’ve tried to pretend he didn’t get killed." (Paul, 1995)

"Paul talked about John a a lot, but the strange thing was that it was in the present tense, “John says this" or "John thinks that. Very weird." (Peter Cox, 2006)

“John Lennon was shot dead in 1980. That totally knocked dad for six. I haven’t really spoken to him a lot about it because it is such a touchy subject." (James McCartney, 2013)

"It's very difficult for me and I, occasionally, will have thoughts and sort of say: "I don't know why I don't just break down crying every day? […] You know, I don't know how I would have dealt with it because I don't think I've dealt with it very well. In a way… I wouldn't be surprised if a psychiatrist would sort of find out that I'm slightly in denial, because it's too much." (Paul, 2020)

"Like any bereavement, the only way out is to remember how good it was with John. Because I can't get over the senseless act. I can't think about it. I'm sure it's some form of denial. But denial is the only way that I can deal with it." (Paul, 2020)

"When I talked to Paul about John and when he missed John most, he couldn't answer me for a long time and his eyes teared up. And I asked him where he thinks about John and when John comes into his mind and he just … he lost it, he completely lost it." (Bob Spitz, 2021)

-------------------------------------------------

The following two are from the gossip website Datalounge, so they may or may not be true. Still interesting though:

"The one time I was ever actually in a room with Paul, zillion people between me and him (and no way I'm gonna bother him, all of us who travel in celeb circles have people we're fans of and all of us inexplicably try to hide it to seem "cooler"), he started talking loudly about himself and John, and how hard it was not to have him there. I remember him saying something along the lines of not a day passing that John's not still in it with him, but it's not like he can pick up a phone and say, "Hey, just needed to hear your voice today," and even when he got craggy responses, he still missed them. He misses it all, and it's bothering to him that he misses him more as time goes on -- it doesn't heal, he just learns new ways to bandage the wound."

“Since everyone is anonymous here, I guess I can give a bit of info I got from a female friend of mine who at one time worked as one of Paul’s assistants. [...] She does not know for certain if John and Paul were involved but she suspects it since to this day whenever John’s name is brought up he acts in her words ‘like a widow’ and he also addresses John in present tense. He would say things like, ‘John thinks that the music should be like this,’ and during his bitter divorce from Heather he was saying, ‘John says that this is getting nasty.’ Kind of creepy." (this one actually seems very intriguing because it sounds very similar to what Peter Cox said, about Paul often talking about John in the present tense, saying "John says.." or "John thinks...")

[saintmeghanmarkle]

I'm listening to Meghan's interview podcast this morning so you don't have to: will add on as I go along by u/wenfot

I'm listening to Meghan's interview podcast this morning so you don't have to: will add on as I go along NOTE: since I do have a life, I will be adding on to this main post throughout the morning. Just look here for updates. This will be the "Cliff notes" edition, not verbatim.Let's get to the most critical part first:Would she write another book: she says she'd like to write a hospitality book. As for writing a memoir, she says she has "more life to live" before she does so.She does not want to run for office.What's the next product for As If: after an agonizing word salad, she says hostess gifts "are a big category I'm excited with". And more jam drops (GOD HELP US)Jamie says Meghan is "doing the work for her customers with her products." Jamie then gushes how Meghan's products "do the work" that she doesn't want to do, and how her six year old made flower sprinkle cookies. Jamie gushes about how proud she is of Meghan for putting her heart, her friendship, her soul" out there. She gushes that Meghan is "in the arena" and how women and girls should look up to her for putting herself out there. Meghan says you should shout out the answer while watching Jeopardy even if you don't know the answer. She says that Meghan is a living, breathing example of putting yourself out there. They both start crying.Jamie says she prayed before the interview and that this quote was what kept on coming to her. (NOTE: I tried to type it all out but the damn thing is like an oratorio. Basically it's about putting in the effort with blood, sweat and tears and daring greatly.More to come... post link: https://ift.tt/0QUdKgR author: wenfot submitted: April 28, 2025 at 07:00PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[hazzabeeforlou]

Hi love, first I want to say you don't have to answer me with a long essay or something, but I just want and need your opinion on something since you have been here for a while I think which means you're a veteran larrie. Could you please answer in private :)

There aren't many larries from those days left and I completely understand why. The fandom is becoming a mess. I would just like your opinion on one subject/aspect of Larry.

I have been back and forth analyzing stuff before but mostly after 1D took their hiatus. Louis' and Harry's lyrics, behavior, and signaling and I just don't understand it anymore. The new influx of larries think L and H broke up multiple times and had other relationships, but I don't know anymore.

Something inside me tells me that isn't what happened, but with their lyrics and everything else (stunts), I feel like I'm in the minority. That's why I would like to ask you one question, you can simply answer with a yes or a no. I'd love it if you could share your ideas or elaborate more, but I know not many larries like and feel comfortable sharing their ideas anymore….so please do so, if you can.

Do you think Louis and Harry have taken breaks/broke up since 2010 (with taking breaks I mean L and H still have a relationship but taking time apart and breaking up is self-explanatory)? And do you think they have slept/been with other people since 2010?

Hi there! I don’t mind answering here. To be massively honest with you? Yes I’ve been here since EARLY 2017, and yes I’m still a larrie, whatever the fuck that means now, but I just…. Don’t really care about proving anything anymore. And I have seen both their closets solidify in ways that signal to me that this is a career long choice for them. Their music has moved beyond the personal and into the abstract/creative sphere now and I don’t find it helpful in analysis of their personal lives anymore than studying a late Bach oratorio would show me how much he loved or didn’t love his wife. Yk? If they’ve had experiences outside of being together, I don’t think it’s something that they resent for the other person. I find it hard to believe either of them were virgins when they met, or never took breaks, just because I know almost no couples in my life who I could say that about. I know like two people who were each others firsts and still married (and DIDNT come from a religious cult). So. But again I don’t really super care… I find their origin story cute and adorable enough pad the lack of info we have now, and honestly I think they like it that way, and that it’s best all around.

[peakwealth]

The Year 2024 (1)

WHITE RESTORATION

"Battesimo" (Baptism), 1930, by Antonio Donghi (1897-1963). Galleria Civica d'Arte Moderna e Contemporanea, Turin.

* * *

" Those the gods afflict with hubris free themselves from reason." Ghassan Salamé, writing in the Financial Times, Oct 19, 2024

* * *

Joseph Haydn was born in 1732 in the otherwise unremarkable Austrian village of Rohrau, not far from the Vienna airport. Today the area is a sea of twinkling red lights when you fly in after dark, a vast wind farm stretching towards the Hungarian border. One of Haydn's later works, an oratorio called Die Schöpfung (The Creation), happens to be one of my favourite pieces of music. Premiered in 1798 and still popular 226 years later, it starts with an orchestral big bang and is full of papa Haydn's musical wit and cleverness. Although perhaps a little long winded as oratorios tend to be, it is never soppy, dull or unduly pious. The German libretto, based on the bible, was written by baron Gottfried van Swieten.

As almighty God creates Heaven and Earth, so goes the text, "Verwirrung weicht und Ordnung keimpt empor", roughly translated as: chaos recedes and order arises. It sprouts, as it were, from the soil of creation. A few lines later a whole new world emerges at God's command: "Eine neue Welt entspringt auf Gottes Wort".

If only.

I sometimes think of those words now for we are on a trajectory that goes the other way: order recedes and chaos rises in many parts of the world. Commanded by god or not, this emerging new world doesn't look so promising any more. Verwirrung is everywhere. There exists an English neologism which is as ugly as it is vague but comes close to describing our present age of Verwirrung and chaos: shitstorm. That is what it felt like for much of the year, at least until the US election campaign turned into another ugly concept, a freak show.

It never got freakier than on the day that stands out in my mind as the apotheosis of the campaign, its very peak, when Donald Trump peddled the story that Haitian migrants in America were eating their neighbours' pets. No racist slander was as facile, or as evocative, nothing pushed as many buttons as the image of a family of Black Haitians sitting around the dinner table fighting over their white neighbours' roasted golden retriever.

Willingly manipulated by social media, obsessed with celebrity, inebriated with misinformation and desensitized to even the most grotesque lies, a majority of the American electorate anointed him president on November 5th. The next day I read it "was a reward for bad behaviour" (1), that Americans had soured on democracy and that they were OK with that. A shady wheeler dealer and former casino operator, seller of steaks, fake university degrees and, recently, bibles, was to be king.

 * * *

By the time Donald Trump was first elected in 2016, things no longer added up in America. A disgruntled electorate was chasing simple answers to complex questions. It therefore didn't matter to Trump's constituency how ignorant he was - a moron as his first Secretary of State, Rex Tillerson, famously put it after being fired in 2018. He was their guy, he could do no wrong. The more he talked nonsense, the more impaired his thinking, the more he seemed to bond with America's heartland.

I was still naive then, quoting Barack Obama who had said that the presidency of the US was not a reality show and that ignorance was not virtue. We know otherwise now. It took time for the shift away from reason to sink in. The pandemic gave Trump ample opportunity to display his casual disdain for the facts. COVID could be halted by ingesting sachets of washing powder or a shot of bleach. At the time it looked perfectly absurd, too wacky to last.

(Screenshot of The New York Times, 2020)

Not so. Far from self-destructing, Trump had tapped into a deep well of victimhood and cynicism, the same well of public mistrust that fed a thousand conspiracy theories, from vaccine skepticism to its evil twin, climate change denial. Superstition and magical thinking had returned to a society previously deemed more rational. 

More uninhibited as the year 2024 wore on, Trump's election rallies turned into a cult tinged with religious fervour. He started addressing his followers  as "my beautiful Christians".  As Trump raged and ranted, as he swayed on stage to the music of Luciano Pavarotti and YMCA, he put himself at the core of American identity. To many this regression was liberating, to others it was if he bottom had dropped out of reality. 

***

Why? How come?

The head scratching never ends. Hundreds of theories have been put forward trying to explain the pushback against the state and its putative elites; the insurrection against liberal democracy or why so many Americans appear to have taken leave of their senses - not that the phenomenon is exclusive to the US; the same disaffection and anger are convulsing politics elsewhere. But it may be most startling in the US.

Perhaps Americans have long overestimated their standing in the world. They did not begin to understand how others saw them, not as a nation of 'American exceptionalism' but as zealots and hypocrites, obsessed with religion, guns, country music, trucks, trash TV and Walmart. They did not see the destructiveness of the Reagan era or the inadequacy of George W. Bush during the clueless invasion of Irak or, more so, in their hour of greatest need, 9/11.

It has been argued that Americans are just depressed, that the US is in the grip of a collective mental breakdown. No conspiracy theory is too insane not to attract an audience. How could anyone suggest, let alone believe, that hurricanes are "weaponized weather events", geo-engineered by the deep state, aka the federal Government in Washington DC?

As ever, social media are blamed for fuelling the hysteria and the paranoia. Fourteen US states are suing TikTok for helping to drive a mental health crisis among children and teenagers. (2)

Ghassan Salamé is a former Lebanese minister, diplomat and professor at Sciences Po in Paris. In his view the old world order (white, western, liberal) started to fall apart in the years between 2003 and 2006 (3). A lot of change happened in those years, but what stands out to Salamé is the emergence of social media platforms. 

First came Myspace in 2003 (part of the Murdoch media universe), followed by Facebook in 2004, by YouTube exactly a year later and by Twttr (subsequently renamed Twitter) in 2006. They went on to stoke the angst and fragmentation of people's perception of reality. Fingers have also been pointed at Facebook's like feature and Twitter's retweet, both introduced in 2009 and credited with amplifying the self-reinforcing loop effects of social media. 

The iPhone, launched in California in 2007, enabled the addiction to torrents of moving images and information ´feeds', turning the world's population into device junkies in a matter of years. It confirmed Steve Jobs as the defining visionary of our narcissistic, frivilous age. And it should come as no surprise that the Metas and Googles of this new world would lead to chaos and neurosis.

Another interesting line of thinking suggests that the US is having one of its periodic crises of masculinity (4), an outbreak of moral panic that occurs when American manhood is threatened by the softness of intellectuals, by gender benders, successful women and godless liberals, including the 'mainstream' media. 

During his first presidency Trump would scold journalists, calling them sick people who should be ashamed of themselves. In 2024 he casually suggested they be shot.

His aggressive appeal to white men fitted right in there, at home in the revanchist "manosphere" of the Republican party turned populist. The Democrats, on the other hand, found themselves pushed into a corner of woke crybabies, coastal elites and J.D. Vance's "childless cat ladies" - another high point of the election campaign. It was a caricature of course. But it worked.

As America's ultimate influencer, Trump understood politics as folksy, low-grade entertainment, not as a coherent political discourse. (That came later, after the election.) Rather than make America great again, he planned to sabotage the state or simply wreck it along the lines of thinking formulated by his former political mentor and MAGA strategist Steve Bannon, back in 2016.  It would put women in their place, make abortion 'unthinkable', cleanse the US of immigrants, gays and other deviants, cut taxes for the rich and finally pave the way for the restoration of white male supremacy under God.

Donald Trump's America may now turn into a self-devouring dinosaur state, run by sycophants and nihilistic tech oligarchs, but it will inflict damage far beyond its borders. If his first election had the effect of undermining the West and of delegitimizing the so-called 'international community', Trump's second coming looks more devastating. Not only does it disregard the climate emergency, it confirms America's growing backwardness, it fosters global impunity, it is a direct threat to secular, open societies, to the rule of law and, in the end, to freedom of thought as guaranteed by still functioning democracies around the world.

Anything could happen.

------------------------------------------------

See also: @Unhinged https://peakwealth.tumblr.com/post/674489478096830464

See also (on trying to understand the encroaching chaos in 2020):

https://peakwealth.tumblr.com/post/638066200583258112

------------------------------------------------

(1) Mark Z. Barabak, a columnist writing in The Los Angeles Times, November 6, 2024.

(2) BBC News 9/10/2024

(3) La tentation de Mars. Ghassan Salamé, éd. Fayard, Paris.

(4)  Manhood in America: A Cultural History. Michael Kimmel, Oxford University Press.

[eurovision-revisited]

Eurovision 2006 - Number 26 - Marts Kristiāns Kalniņš & Melomania - "Say It Is"

There's a whole heap of Kalniņš's involved in this as well as cellos. Marts Kristiāns Kalniņš is the son of Imants Kalniņš, composer and politician (of changeable standpoints). He's composed concertos, symphonies, operas, oratorios, operettas, a rock opera and some song for the group Autobuss Debesīs (Bus in the Sky), and this. It sounds as if the father enjoys his melodrama a little bit too much.

Apt in this case as his sons backing band are Melomania (Melo-M as they are usual known), a four-piece assault cello unit with a drummer. Marts has recruited them to sit in for his usual band, the aforementioned Autobuss Debesīs. In an attempt to get to Eurovision, Marts has gone it alone.

Say It Is has another Kalniņš associated with it: Lyricist Ojārs Eriks Kalniņš who is probably the highest profile song-writer I've covered yet - but not necessarily in the field of song-writing. He's another politician and diplomat, but not only has he been elected to the Latvian parliament like Imants, he's been the Latvian ambassador to the USA. And he oversaw Latvia's entry into NATO. Writing pop song lyrics is just a hobby!

You'd think that given the heft of the song-writing team it would be wise to study the lyrics and try to read something into them about the state of Latvia in 2006 - but Say It Is is really just a love song. Aiming to capture the feeling of being swept away in a torrent of happy chemicals when the one is on the brink of saying yes. The cellos of Melo-M saw away building an urgent surge of happiness as they pretend they're guitars.

Marts is all swagger and pose. He has the profile and moves of a rock-singer of the old school. Yet, despite the building and the song leaves us on something of a precipice. Whoever it is, never says that it is. There is no yes. There's not a no either. At the end, Marts is still waiting for an answer so that he can fall back into the softly cushioned security of reciprocated love. But he remains dangling over the edge precariously.

Whether the televote and jury were swayed by the power of the people involved in this song I don't know, but it did well. Very well. It finished second in the semi-final it was in, then went to make it into the top three of the final, advancing to the televote only superfinal. By this point Marts was in a two-horse race which he eventually lost by fewer than 4,000 votes. Democracy in action.

This is the Kalniņš clan's only national final attempt. Marts went back to Autobuss Debesīs. He also joined another band Raxtu Raxti which is more distinctly about Latvian folklore and folk-music - again with the song-writing input of his father. Melo-M also appear to still be recording and performing together too.

Here's a recent recording of Rakstu rakstus (I write writing?) by Raxtu Raxta with Marts on harmonium.

[seetangus]

Merry Christmas!!! It’s been quite awhile, but I’m here now! Work has been sooo busy with the Christmas season. I barely have any time for myself. But here we are! Still glad to have you around. While Christmas is about family and friends being together (and getting ((even though I’m really awkward at getting gifts)) and giving gifts), but for me it’s also important religiously:

”For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be the sign to you: You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger.”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭2‬:‭11‬-‭12‬ ‭NKJV‬‬

”And she will bring forth a Son, and you shall call His name Jesus, for He will save His people from their sins.”“

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭1‬:‭21‬ ‭NKJV‬‬

Idk if you’re religious, but since we are getting to know each other a little bit, being a Christian is part of who I am. The Lord has given me many blessings, from a good job to a house that has heat during the winter to good family and friends. And the blessing of “meeting” you.

Have a Merry Christmas! And a Happy New Year (in case I don’t send something) - 🌹

Merry Christmas!! It’s so nice to hear from you again :) I’m happy you are able to spend time around Christmas with friends and family, even if time fell short during Advent. I hope Christmas evening was good and you can relax during the days of Christmas. Is there a holiday in the US for this?

And you chose beautiful verses to send to me, allow me to return the favour:

“An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the clarity of the Lord shone around them; and they were very afraid. And the angel said unto them: “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.”“

Luke 2; 9-10

I just love this verse. But since my absolutely favourite word in it is translated differently in English than in my language, I took the freedom of changing it I, hope you don’t mind 💀

I am also Christian so I fully understand what you mean when you say it’s a part of you. Recently, my ‘religious life’ has been as great as never before, and I have found some priests who give good sermons in my city. Also, listening to Bach’s Christmas oratorio or Händel’s Messiah that incorporate the verses from Luke 2 is simply “heavenly” (metaphorically and literally lol).

Merry Christmas to you too and Happy New Year! It’s always refreshing to answer your messages. ^^

- Seetang

[stupidstupidratcreatures]

wait are you fucking kidding

[rmichaelwahlquist]

SING A NEW SONG (or 14!)

Tuesday, May 16th, 7:30, Snow Recital Hall at BYU-Idaho. Come join in singing some of my original new tunes using forgotten hymn texts from the original 1835 hymnal of the The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, compiled by Emma Smith in answer to the Lord's request of her in section 25 of the Doctrine and Covenants.

If you know anyone that you think might be interested, please share this information!

We just held some rehearsals this weekend and I've got to say it was thrilling to hear these hymns brought to life by some very talented folks helping to introduce the melodies and accompany the singing.

It's is worth a watch even if you can't make it in person!

The event will be streaming live at this link: https://www.byui.edu/music/events/watch-live

This is the second event in the ongoing Michael Wahlquist Spring Semester Extravaganza(TM LOL), following the smash success of my prepared piano concert last month, available soon on YouTube.

The other two events coming up are:

June 6th: concert featuring my diverse and eclectic chamber and electronic music

July 10th: World Premier of my sacred oratorio Redeemed from the Fall, about the revelation of the Gospel of Jesus Christ to Adam and Eve after the Fall (with text from the scriptures).

[flockrest]

It would be wise to reveal yourself.

“Dineli, the first Sage of Wind,” recites a soft voice. “T’is an honor to have claimed such a title or so I’m told. Tell me, are your responsibilities as an elder and now sage a bit overwhelming?”

     Perhaps it says something of his weariness, that his first concern should do with how this is not a voice he recognises. It comes from the shadows creeping nearer in the wake of a setting sun — from the line of trees he just left behind, surely, even as he finds nothing peering out from the visible gaps between those trunks.

     He entertains the notion for a farcical second. A voice he's never heard, from some person he cannot see. These are strange times.

     Dangerous times.

     The feathers lining his neck and crest slowly rise in unease. He keeps his bow at rest, but his other wing lifts to hover about his quiver. Whoever — whatever — this is, they are too close to Peaks Among the Ripples for him to simply ignore. "You speak as though I know you."

[brightly-painted-canvas]

Credo che possiamo affermare con assoluta certezza che tutte le bambine della parrocchia avrebbero una cotta fotonica per Nico l'animatore del Grest, E LE MAMME SAREBBERO PURE PEGGIO, "tanto un caro ragazzo lui..."

Ah, sì. Poco ma sicuro. Headcanon accepted. Passerebbe il tempo circondato da bimbe (e bimbi perché no) adoranti che lo seguono ovunque e che parlano di lui talmente tanto a casa che tutti i genitori si sono fatti assurdi film mentali su questa figura mitologica. E poi se lo trovano davanti all'orario di uscita e pure le mamme perdono la testa.

A riguardo, piccolo aneddoto personale: anche io quando facevo l'animatrice ero molto apprezzata dai più piccoli XD Una volta un bambino di seconda elementare mi ha regalato una carta Pokémon e mi ha chiesto di sposarlo.

Quindi, dato che avevo promesso avrei provato a scrivere un po', complimenti: hai vinto una drabble ispirata proprio a questo fatto realmente accaduto! :D

.

Innocent proposal (animatore!Nicky AU)

When the bell rings, announcing it’s time to gather up the teams for prayers before heading to the mess hall for lunch, Nicky is still helping Jacopo solve a math problem.

“It’s okay. We will finish this tomorrow.” he smiles at the 9 years old, who looks ready to bolt, summer homework already very far from his young mind.

“Grazie, Nico!” he exclaims, while dutifully picking up his book and pencil case.

Nicky gets up, helps the kids gather their stuff, cleans up the study room and heads down to the gym, where Don Luigi is waiting for all the 120 kids attending this year’s oratorio estivo to sit on the floor before starting his usually brief and often sung pre-lunch prayer.

.

The gym is already full of it’s typical colourful mass of kids, from the ‘juniores’ to the ‘seniores’, all with caps and neckerchiefs of their team’s colour: blue, red, yellow or green.

Nicky is about to slalom through a group of rowdy seniores to reach the side of the gym where the other animatori are seated, when he feels a tug at the back of his t-shirt.

He stops, turns his head and looks down, surprised in seeing little Chiara biting her lips and still holding the hem of his shirt in her tiny fist.

“What is it, darling?” he asks, smiling down at her.

When she lets him go, he turns and crouches down at her level, balancing on his heels, to give his whole attention to the shy, sweet 7 years old.

“Vanessa taught us how to make beaded bracelets.” she says, her voice so thin it’s almost impossible to hear her mumbling beneath the chaos of the gym.

“Did she? That’s very nice!” he encourages her, while in his mind he is revising his animatrice friend Vanessa, that very morning, cursing at all the colourful beads boxes she had to carry from the storage to the art laboratory.

Chiara, who already has her own bracelet around her small wrist, produces another bracelet from her jeans’ pocket: it has beads of all the colours of the rainbow, not really placed in a logical order. At the center there is a dice shaped white bead with an ‘N’ printed on it.

“This is for you.” Chiara says, possibly even more softly than before.

“Grazie, Chiara! È bellissimo!” exclaims Nicky, accepting the gift and immediately snapping the plastic elastic band around his thick wrist: the bracelet it’s a bit tight, but he’s surely gonna wear it proudly all through summer camp now.

“It’s because I think you’re very nice and handsome and I like you very very much.” says Chiara then, somewhere somehow finding the courage to even raise her voice a bit.

Nicky blinks exactly twice, then he smiles sweetly, trying not to burst into a laugh in the face of such a cute love confession: “Thank you, I like you too.” he says, taking the girl’s tiny hand in his huge one. He can’t help falling a bit in love with every small kid he tutors during oratorio estivo each summer: they’re adorable, even the most troublemakers.

Then Chiara asks suddenly: “Will you marry me, Nicolò?”, catching him so off guard he almost loses balance on his crouching and falls on his ass.

He fumbles, looking into her hopeful, big green eyes as she waits for an answer. He knows he can’t get away with a joke or an attempt to gloss over. He has to give her a reply, so as not to hurt the shy girl’s feelings.

.

Later that evening, Nicky is sprawled on the couch eating popcorn, distractedly watching some superhero movie on Joe’s big flatscreen TV while his boyfriend slowly and lovingly massages his sore feet and calves. Joe has had Nicky’s legs propped on his lap since the moment they sat down, claiming that helping Nicky relax and ease the pain of more than 8 hours spent standing, running and lifting heavy stuff, was his favourite job.

Above them the ceiling fan whirs in a monotone and Nicky is almost falling asleep were it not for the loud booms of explosions from the TV and the many sounds of late summer evenings coming from the street’s bars and restaurants below. Joe’s apartment is in a very lively neighbourhood.

By the minute Nicky is feeling his eyelids drooping and his breath becoming deeper and slower and he’s about to let slumber win when Joe suddenly moves, getting up.

“I bought gelato. The pistacchio and stracciatella one you like so much. Want some?” he asks, already smiling, knowing that not even deep tiredness could deter Nicky from eating his favourite summer dessert.

“Ti amo tantissimo.” he just mumbles as a reply, smiling dumbly with his eyes half closed and his neck skewed at such an odd angle he must have at least five chins showing. He can’t even English at the moment, so he just continues with much fondness: “Cosa devo fare io per meritarmi un amore grande così…”

Joe snorts, having heard him from the kitchen.

He comes back a few minutes later, one cup of ice cream and a spoon in each hand, and places them on the coffee table before bending to kiss Nicky on the (slightly sweaty, ugh, gross) forehead.

“You have to kiss me, hold me close even if it’s summer…” he starts listing, plopping down on the couch and then in Nicky’s arms, linking their legs, pushing his face against Nicky’s too warm collarbone.

His mop of curls brushes under Nicky’s nose and he huffs, but still accepts the weight (and warmth) of his boyfriend on his tired body.

“You have to take me out on dates, go to the beach with me when oratorio estivo is over and, one day, you will have to marry me.” continues Joe, each word kissed against the skin of Nicky’s neck.

“Marry? You wanna get married?” asks Nicky, worsening his multiple chin situation to look down into Joe’s glinting eyes.

“Eventually? In our late twenties? When you’ll be a doctor and I’ll be a famous artist? Yes.” he confesses, suddenly almost shy, but with a gaze full of trust and love.

“That’d be nice.” immediately replies Nicky, heart engulfed in the same sentiment he sees in Joe’s perfect eyes: “But alas,” he sighs theatrically, placing the back of his right hand above his forehead, for emphasis.

“‘Alas’ what?” asks Joe, pushing himself up a bit, looking confused.

“I’ve already accepted one marriage proposal today, I’m afraid.” admits Nicky, showing the beaded bracelet on his wrist, his new love token.

“Excuse me?” protests Joe, his disbelieving expression so cute Nicky can’t help but grin and boop him on the nose.

“Yeah, a young suitor asked for my hand in marriage, today. In, let’s see… 11 years, she will be of age and we will tie the knot.” he explains, barely succeeding in holding back a laugh.

Joe sighs exasperatedly, a mischievous grin spreading on his beautiful red lips. He flops down heavily once again, punching the air out of Nicky’s lungs and then he rubs his itchy, bearded chin on his boyfriend’s chest. “That’s alright,” he declares after he’s satisfied with his retaliation methods: “I’ll just have to kidnap and marry you before that, then.” he reasons.

“Oh, you brute.” sighs Nicky, finally placing his hand on Joe’s jaw to guide him up and steal a kiss from his smiling lips.

Joe kisses back, with mirth and then with intensity, stealing his breath and dissipating, in an instant, all of Nicky’s tiredness.

When they part, Joe has his hands in Nicky’s hair and Nicky’s left hand, the clever bastard, now rests on Joe’s ass.

The movie, the lively evening outside, the fatigue of the day, everything is forgotten. Except: “Now that that’s sorted out, amore mio, pass me the gelato.”

.

Notes: Nicky is 18 and Joe is 21 in this, I guess. Sorry for the mistakes, English is (obviously) not my first language. Hope you enjoyed!

[weeinterpreter]

canned.

Artemis pressed the intercom button before he remembered no one was there to answer it. Gritting his teeth, he jumped up and rushed to the door. On the very day that Butler had his day off. Why did the manservant have to have a day off, anyway? It wasn't like he had any hobbies, apart from keeping him safe. 

Artemis hurried down the staircase, deciding to scrap any holidays for Butler forever. It just asked for disaster, to let Butler do… whatever he did. He could spend his free time training. Meanwhile, he, Artemis Fowl II, genius criminal mastermind, was in serious trouble. 

He came to an abrupt stop in the kitchen door, his eyes darting from one side to the other. This was unknown territory for him. Should he wait for Butler to return? His vision became blurry. No, this was a matter of life and death. There was no time to be lost!

Clenching his trembling fingers to a fist, Artemis focused on stumbling to the first cupboard, opening it wide. He rummaged through the contents and almost let out a sob. It wasn't there. His heartbeat was slowing down, and he knew he was running out of time. With a frustrated growl, he shoved bowls and plates aside. It had to be there.

The boy ripped open another cupboard, wild eyes jumping over the contents. Then he saw it. A weak but triumphant grin spread across his face. He pulled the object into the kitchen light, Handel's Hallelujah Chorus from The Triumph of Time and Truth oratorio suddenly playing somewhere. With his last remaining strength, he dragged himself to the counter and pulled one tiny silver spoon from the drawer. 

It took him a second to tear open the can of caviar – his fingers were shaking so badly – but once he had succeeded, he took a big spoonful of the shiny, glistening, exquisitely salty delicacy. 

Artemis Fowl II let out a satisfied sigh. He had successfully averted the crisis.

[josefavomjaaga]

Rue St.Nicaise

As @tairin and @usergreenpixel were so kind to translate the manga version of the infernal machine plot for us, I thought maybe somebody is interested in the sources behind it. This is another one of those occasions where there’s different reports from different witnesses.

This is taken from Rapp’s memoirs:

The affair of the infernal machine has never been properly understood by the public. The police had intimated to Napoleon that an attempt would be made against his life, and cautioned him not to go out. Madame Bonaparte, Mademoiselle Beauharnais, Madame Murat, Lannes, Bessières, the aide-de-camp on duty, and lieutenant Lebrun, now duke of Placenza, were all assembled in the saloon, while the First Consul was writing in his closet. Haydn's Oratorio was to be performed that evening: the ladies were anxious to hear the music, and we also expressed a wish to that effect. The escort picquet was ordered out; and Lannes requested that Napoleon would join the party. He consented; his carriage was ready, and he took along with him Bessières and the aide-de-camp on duty. I was directed to attend the ladies. Josephine had received a magnificent shawl from Constantinople, and she that evening wore it for the first time. "Allow me to observe, Madame," said I, "that your shawl is not thrown on with your usual elegance." She good humouredly begged that I would fold it after the fashion of the Egyptian ladies. While I was engaged in this operation, we heard Napoleon depart. "Come, sister," said Madame Murat, who was impatient to get to the theatre; "Bonaparte is going." We stepped into the carriage: the First Consul's equipage had already reached the middle of the Place Carrousel. We drove after it; but we had scarcely entered the Place when the machine exploded. Napoleon escaped by a singular chance. Saint-Regent, or his French servant, had stationed himself in the middle of the Rue Nicaise. A grenadier of the escort, supposing he was really what he appeared to be, a water-carrier, gave him a few blows with the flat of his sabre, and drove him off. The cart was turned round, and the machine exploded between the carriages of Napoleon and Josephine. The ladies shrieked on hearing the report; the carriage windows were broken, and Mademoiselle Beauharnais received a slight hurt on her hand. I alighted, and crossed the Rue Nicaise, which was strewed with the bodies of those who had been thrown down, and the fragments of the walls that had been shattered by the explosion. Neither the Consul nor any individual of his suite sustained any serious injury. When I entered the theatre Napoleon was seated in his box, calm and composed, and looking at the audience through his opera-glass. Fouché was beside him. "Josephine," said he, as soon as he observed me. She entered at that moment, and he did not finish his question. "The rascals," said he, very coolly, "wanted to blow me up. Bring me a book of the Oratorio."

And this is the same story from Hortense’s memoirs and perspective:

An oratorio by Haydn had long been announced, the music of which was to produce the most beautiful effect. The day of the performance arrived and we prepared to go to the Opera. The Consul, who had been sitting by the fire after dinner, did not seem inclined to go out. We were all dressed up and waiting impatiently for him to make up his mind. My mother urged him: "It will distract you, you are working too hard". The Consul closed his eyes and answered nothing. Finally, he told us that we had only to leave, that he would stay. Then my mother wanted to keep him company; it was a contest between them which ended with the horses being put to the carriages. A moment before getting into his coach, the Consul criticised my mother's toilet, and this criticism saved our lives. Having wanted to communicate it to Caroline and the aide-de-camp Rapp, she allowed some time to elapse, so that our carriage, which always followed immediately after that of the Consul, was this time separated from it by a small distance. As we entered the Rue Saint-Nicaise, a violent commotion was felt. The carriage seemed to get lifted off. The windows broke and fell on us. "It is against Bonaparte," cried my mother, and she fainted. Our horses, frightened by the noise, suffocated by the gunpowder, had reared up, taken the reins and carried us to the gate of the Tuileries. Caroline, though far along in her pregnancy, kept her wits about her. She tried to reassure my mother. She had seen a very big fire. A house had collapsed. It couldn't have been against her brother. But my mother kept repeating: "It is against Bonaparte". I also tried to calm her down! I explained to her that our carriage alone had been attacked, that the strength of the concussion was proof of this and that the mistake had saved the Consul. A piece of the glass hurt my hand slightly. Rapp was the first to rush into the Rue Saint-Nicaise. He saw men, women, children, dead or wounded, scattered limbs, rubble ready to bury him, but the cries of the unfortunate expiring people could not stop him. He wanted to reach the Consul and trembled to find him. One of the guards of the escort, sent to us, allayed our fears by informing us that the fire had only broken out as the Consul was leaving the street and that he had arrived at the Opera without accident. We went there by another street. My mother was not master of her strong emotion on seeing her husband again, but he, calm and tranquil, to deceive her alarm: "What have you," he said. "What has happened? It is nothing." And all this with as much composure as if he had not guessed that it was yet another blow directed against him.

So, it remains unclear who had had the good idea to critisize Josephine’s shawl.

[creativityobsessed]

Be Brave Adachi, or the musical shaping of episodes 1-4

Part 1: Episode 1

Ok folks, buckle up. @ohmypreciousgirl asked me for more music meta and I need exactly ZERO arm twisting for that to happen, so I immediately put on my listening ears and musicologist hat and started my eleventy first rewatch. Since I’m currently only through episode 4 on this rewatch, and I have a page and a half of notes, I’m gonna put in a Read More so that I don’t take up the next 5 miles of the tags. You might be interested if:

You like music

You’re interested in detailed analysis of character development

You’re wondering why the heck those scenes where Adachi is having all the anxiety are so dang effective.

The answer, of course, is that the music helps to shape the exact moments that Adachi makes steps towards character growth. Under the cut, you’ll find out exactly how it’s doing that.

This will be a 4-part series, running over the next 4 days because I got halfway through episode 3 and realized that yall did NOT want a 10 page paper in a single tumblr post. Plus then I can extend the series to include the rest of the episodes later.

So. Without further ado.

Episode 1  (If you’d like to watch/listen along, cue up 19:45 in episode 1* now.) 

At the beginning of the show, we’re introduced to Adachi, the shy, introverted, anxious klutz. He tells us lots of things about himself, most of which include some reference to either his lack of bravery or his self-esteem which is currently so low that it seems to be floating somewhere in the Marianas Trench. Aside from the opening scene with the bike (which many of us, myself included, have hypothesized comes from some kind of future) the music is mostly laid-back, a little jazzy, and repetitive. Adachi’s office scenes come with a walking bass/guitar line that never really finds a melody, and reminds me of nothing more than generic 90s/early 2000s slice-of-life “this is every day” music. His Adachi-at-home music is gently strummed guitar, slow and kind of lethargic, mirroring the way Adachi just floats through life. The main exception is Adachi’s monologue on Kurosawa, which is fast paced, march-like, and jaunty - a reflection of how Adachi sees Kurosawa before the events of the show.

And then, at the end of the episode, that changes, and we get something new for the first time. Adachi is processing the new revelation that Kurosawa actually does like him, and he has just finished telling himself that Kurosawa must have gone crazy to like someone like him. There has been no musical accompaniment since they were in the office together. Kurosawa wraps the scarf around Adachi’s neck and Adachi hears Kurosawa’s inner monologue, cataloging the things he likes about Adachi.

This speech is obviously a turning point for Adachi, but we can be more specific than that. For Kurosawa’s first couple of points, we’re still in silence, and Adachi is looking down. We can imagine that he’s doing his own mental list that starts something like “yeah but…” But after the line “He’s actually an extremely kind and nice guy,” Adachi looks up at Kurosawa, and finally, after two whole minutes of silence in the soundtrack, a new kind of cue comes in.

This new cue is the antithesis of the rest of the soundtrack. It’s fully acoustic (with a little bit of reverb) and played on the piano, an instrument that the composer has not yet used. What’s more, the fragment that the piano repeats is completely unstable. We have no idea what key we’re in (yet. Spoiler, it’ll be A-major, eventually). [warning: technical stuff starts here, if you don’t care about specifics, jump to the /endTechnical tag] It starts with a first inversion D-major chord (in later iterations, IV^6) that attempts to resolve to G-D-A which is NOT a chord, or rather, it could be any number of chords but without a 3rd somewhere in there we don’t know which it is.

Ok, ok, so, resolution failed. Let’s try again! D-major^6 and then instead of going down to D, the A goes up a M3 to C-sharp, making G-E-C-sharp - WHOOPS that’s a tritone, less resolution than the first time. To be fair, the tritone is pretty far apart, and there’s an E floating around in the middle, so it doesn’t feel as teeth grinding-ly gross as your average Danse Macabre, but it SURE AS HELL doesn’t feel resolved either. [/endTechnical]

And we go back and forth between these two VERY unresolved phrases. It’s like we’re (read: Adachi is) stuck asking new questions that he doesn’t have any answers for. It’s unsettling and we spend almost 30 seconds just sitting there feeling unresolved, trying again and again in different octaves, with slightly different notes in the (almost inaudible) string parts-- nothing works. Adachi is not ready to move beyond the questions themselves, so the music doesn’t either, ending on a high unresolved note with Kurosawa’s “Wait.”^

And that’s IT. No resolution. The next musical cue is after enough dead space that our metaphorical ear palate has been cleansed (which is good, cause we jump from quasi-A major to a sequential figure with at least FOUR FLATS - about as distant a key as you can get). To get resolution for the Questioning cue, we’re going to have to wait.

And wait and wait, because that’s it for tonight yall! Episode 2 coming tomorrow!

Continue to part 2

[Although, real quick, before we move on to Episode 2, I just wanna mention that I love that Adachi’s fears about Kurosawa’s crush are scored with a very speedy bebop style cue while Kurosawa’s actual fantasies might as well be a Bach Oratorio COMPLETE WITH METRONOME, because if you needed to shorthand “antithesis” musically I’m not sure I could think of a better way of doing it, short of using screamo metal and Hildegard von Bingen lol.]

*All video timings and quotes are from Irozuku Subs videos. If you’re watching somewhere else, your mileage may vary slightly.

^As an English speaker I love the parallelism in how American English speakers use a rising tone to indicate questions, but I don’t know enough about Japanese to know if that transfers.

[songbirdmusicnc]

Do You HAVE to Sing?!?

My "baby" brother (now in his 30's) used to get so annoyed at my singing around the house. There he'd be, minding his own business, playing Madden on his Sega Genesis (dating myself!!!), and then suddenly out of nowhere, I'd come bellowing out of my room singing some huge opera aria just as loudly and dramatically as I could. It drove him NUTS!! He used to say in total agony, "MUST YOU SING!?!??!" Of course I'd look at him out the corner of my eye and grin with that little mischievous smile that so many kids have when they just know they were up to no good. 😏 

Well, the truth is, yes--I must sing. I had to then, and I still have to until this day. "HAVE" to!?!? Yes. Have to. Have to, and wantto...forever. 

When I was growing up in the public housing system of San Francisco, CA, there was nothing outside of our apartment that you could call inviting. We were in a poor neighborhood, steeped in drug addiction, all sorts of crime, violence and despair. Most families that lived on our housing complex did the best they could with what they had. While many of them were elderly, a good number of them were families of a decent size, all the way up to ten in one apartment. That would have been us, the Buchanan's. 

I'm the seventh of nine children. My parents are both from Kansas. My father having also spent some of his childhood in Arkansas and Missouri, they were both mid-westerners with no grid at all for big-city life. A long story more suitable for another time would reveal that eventually, after five children, the seven of them up and moved to San Francisco in 1972, starting a new life in an urban area that was not only unfamiliar to them, but in some ways downright scary. But, they lived there for many years and I came on the scene in 19...eh-ehmm... Never mind those details. But, from the time I was three months old until I was 23 we lived in those housing projects. And in all the darkness and trouble that the neighborhood brought, I was given one gift from above that would change my course: a voice.

Singing has always been to me something to be associated with God. Through singing and studying music starting as early as 9 years old, I was (from my perspective now that I'm older) rescued from a dead-end journey to nowhere and exposed to some of the most incredible talent you can find worldwide, hands-down. All because God gave me a voice. Singing songs and engaging in competitions and taking classes and learning instruments and learning how to conduct an orchestra at age 11--all these things pulled me out of the destitute surroundings I lived in and exposed me...well it exposed me to the world. There I was, only 14 years old, singing in Italian, Latin, French, German; later adding Ukrainian, Russian, Hebrew and Spanish. No one in my neighborhood was doing this; I can safely say this, knowing that my involvement in this kind of music sort of made me....a little peculiar to the other kids, to say the least. :) I still remember being nine years old, singing in the church choir of about forty elderly men and women whose repertoire consisted of age-old Negro Spirituals and baroque-like oratorios. Why? Because my voice was too big for the children's choir, and none of the teenagers wanted me in their youth choir belting out opera tones when they're trying to rock, clap and shout to the latest Gospel tunes of the day. So, there I was sandwiched between more silver-, blue-, and purple-gray hair than you can dream of, occasionally being slipped a peppermint candy by one of the grandmas who felt sorry for me falling asleep at our late Tuesday-night rehearsals. The voice I had was unique and it opened some doors, while closing others.

All of this had meaning, though. There was a reason for my experiencing such things. Firstly, I realize that it kept me from the nearly inevitable fall into the dangerous and hopeless street life that plagued so many young people in my neighborhood. Secondly and most importantly to me, God made me a shining light for many people who were incredibly wealthy, and therefore practically altogether unreached. I opened my mouth to sing, and the tears would flow. Nothing I was doing; God was singing through me, loving on folks, and those precious people who needed the love of God just as much as anyone else, got to feel His presence in a way that deeply moved them. I clearly remember how in some cases what they felt reminded them of their upbringing in the Church--leaving them with an unshakable sense that they needed to somehow connect with their spiritual heritage again. This is priceless stuff right here.

So, to answer baby brother's question, YES! I MUST SING! And the reason for Songbird Music LLC's existence is not to somehow pump up my own ego or magnify my own ability; heavens no. Since its inception in 2003, while I still lived in California, I was looking for singers who felt they had a personal responsibility to preserve, protect and enhance their instruments for the longterm--never damaging it, always learning to work with it and keep it healthy for decades ahead. I'm still on that journey; I feel there are so many out there who love what God gave them, but need help keeping it.

My homepage has Psalm 104:33 in its header, which reads: "I will sing to the Lord as long as I live; I will sing praise to my God while I have my being." I want this to be the hallmark for every student of mine: that they sing to the glory of God, and they do it well....forever.

-Sharine Buchanan Owner, Songbird Music LLC

Sharine Buchanan is the Owner of Songbird Music LLC. She earned her Bachelor's of Arts degree in Music with High Honors from the University of California at Berkeley, and her Masters of Music degree with an emphasis in Vocal Performance from the San Francisco Conservatory of Music (valedictorian). She lives in North Carolina's Wilkes County, the foothill of the Brushy Mountains, where she relocated in 2013 to join an international ministry, faithfully serving her pastors in music and various aspects of their ministry. To inquire about studying voice with Sharine, email her at teachme@songbirdmusicnc.com, or call 510-220-4077.

Check it Out! “O Del Mio Dolce Ardor” by Gluck

https://youtu.be/CSb0E_X6DA4

[gardenhymns]

oooooh!!!

1

13

28

32

44

56

62

(I tried to limit myself to five asks- have fun answering them!!)

Hello! I hope you're well! Thanks for sending in some numbers.

1. What were your summers like as a kid? As soon as school ended, my brother and I would be sent to oratorio feriale (local church camp): white T-shirts printed with each year's brightly colored logo, drowsy early afternoons praying in the church where most kids were chatty and distracted, legions of volunteering grandmas who'd cook pasta for hundreds of hungry children, high school kids making us dance and organizing games to play under the scorching sun-- I was the tall kid with bruised knees and a messy haircut always roller-skating on the concrete basketball court, or sneaking away from cheery group dances - which I loathed with a burning passion - to devour books. Then, our parents would take some time off work so our family could go on vacation, and we'd drive to a small town on the Adriatic Sea that was always the same: pale-tinted fishermen's houses, the old railroad, sand and salt, a tiny arcade, a few gelaterie, and a bar that'd serve us spuma, a soft drink that our parents used to have when they were children. When we got back we'd rush to finish summer homework, which we swore to finish before going to the seaside every year, and then school would start again.

13. Bright colors or neutral tones? Neutrals. I have a soft spot for beiges.

28. What's your favorite holiday tradition? My family has always celebrated Christmas at my parents' house. On Christmas morning, we cram the five of us, my grandparents, and several aunts and uncles with their spouses and children of various ages in our living room, where we lay the longest table we see all year with the fine plates and napkins and cutlery. I always look forward to welcoming all my relatives in. Everyone brings inside a gust of cool wind and a bright smile, as well as something they cooked and gifts to exchange. In great Italian fashion, lunch gives way to idle chatting over cracked walnuts and slices of panettone. It fades well into the afternoon, when sunlight's gone already. That's when someone begins to take their coat, and my mum asks: who wants to stay for a cup of warm broth?

32. What song is stuck in your head? The Hadestown soundtrack. Ahem.

44. Do you have a favorite quote? I have several, actually, an ever-expanding amount. Just the other day, a friend reminded me of one of them: "Your handwriting. The way you walk. Which china pattern you choose. It's all giving you away. Everything you do shows your hand. Everything is a self portrait. Everything is a diary" (Chuck Palahniuk, Diary).

56. Favorite dessert? You can't make me choose! It's unfair. A nice cheesecake, though...

62. What's your comfort movie? I'm afraid I don't have one at the moment. When I was little, I had a National Treasure and Night at the Museum phase. I know, I know.