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Jeong freaking Yunho 😫😫😫

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—just like now, tonight.

Some post-concert reflections.

Even in the wake of a few days' worth of post-concert processing, the whole experience and the serendipity of it remains surreal.

What if I had gone ahead and made plans? What if I booked myself that pity staycation I'd initially planned? What if I'd actually caved and then paid for a ticket? What if I hadn't continued talking to my friend after we'd left? What if I hadn't posted about Ateez on main and had her ask me, "You're an Atiny?! Since when?!" An entire realm of what-if's and somehow, none of those happened.

I feel like I've been walking in a dream since then.

Did it really happen? Did I really watch them live, addressing us in English, Korean, and Malay? Did I really hear them sing anthem of my 2021, the song that spoke to me during one of the hardest times?

A free poster, an event card, a new friend made, one bottle of wine, 5 types of too-salty cured meats, 2 free shots, and ten thousand videos (including one of me struggling to hold my tears back during Turbulence) later, I'm still struggling to reconcile what occurred with my current reality.

When I'd refrained from purchase, I told myself, It's okay. I'll see them another time — even if it's not this one, something better will come.

Call it celestial luck, call it good timing, call it privilege, somehow, some way, this became my reality.

Somehow, on a Friday, I ended up scrambling to sort out ticket details and contact additions, I ended up with a ticket QR code, I ended up hurriedly stitching my top's back-tie pieces to the sleeves to stop it from falling off so easily, then hastily painting my nails, excitement climbing steadily in the pit of my stomach as it slowly became clearer that I was going, I was going to see Ateez, in my country!

Saturday arrived, and I was all over the place. I got ready way too early, had way too much coffee, and got too overstimulated to actually retrieve any freebies promised on the Telegram chat. (Not to mention, after the concert, I also got lost trying to find my way down to the lobby and ended up in the car park.)

But it didn't matter. None of it mattered (even if I'm still upset about my mints getting confiscated).

Because when the lights dimmed, after my new friend asked, "Are you excited?!" and I had all of 10 seconds to screech, "Yes!" before eight silhouettes appeared in the flesh, in front of me (in a seat that was way, way more in the front than we were supposed to be), and the familiar notes of a discography I'd memorised front to back to front all over again rang through the air, the rush that came with it was indescribable.

It probably sounds like deception now, but I'd honestly never been a concert girly. I never particularly saw the need, since I was so accustomed to sourcing things — even seemingly-elusive ones — on the internet anyway (if you catch my drift). The only artists I'd ever come close to contemplating watching were MJ and Il Divo, for which the timings were never really right. (Plus, MJ also passed before he went on the This Is It world tour, which was the one we'd been eyeing.)

I was not crazy entranced by other artists, either. I liked songs here and there, sure, but whenever I searched up their contextual discography I'd usually discover that one track I liked by them was precisely that: a one-off, with no replicas in their albums.

Eventually, I just decided to stop searching by artists. I just listened to whatever fit my mood. Whatever I was interested in at the moment. I tried my damnednest to fit into the Artsy Student™ vibe but had to concede because it just very much was not my vibe after all.

Then we landed on kpop.

It was not unfamiliar to me at all. I'd been around for the success of the 2nd-gen wave and, in fact, my introduction to it was through proofreading my friend's fanfiction (yeah, I know). But it's the first time I started being actively involved in it — and then, Mamamoo announced their tour, and KL was a stop.

And that is how I ended up going for my first concert.

I feel, maybe, it's different for everyone: that moment.

A grain, a nudge, a little ripple in a whole sea of the loud and vivid and confetti-dripped cacophony that envelopes you — except it's completely silent. Your mind shuts off the external, the ambience dies down, it's just you being completely, utterly, truly present, throwing yourself into the coinciding expectation and reality.

For me, it's when the artist(s) first come out onstage. That's my moment. There's noise everywhere around me, but for an infinitesimal wink of time, I don't hear any of it. All of my attention is attuned to the performers onstage, here, now, in this very same space as I am. And it's surreal.

That's how I felt when I saw the four figures of Mamamoo appear: chills, near tears, hit with the startling realisation: Oh, this is why. This is why people go for concerts.

That's still how I felt, almost precisely 3 days ago (to the hour), when 8 shadows strode onto the stage.

And all that goes through my brain: They're here. They're really here. They're right here in front of me.

And then magic happens. There's aching vocal chords, big grins and big laughs, your feet will start its slow descent into numbness (if you're standing), fanchants ringing out in solidarity, and by the third Ateez song when you're sure you've lost your voice you somehow find more of it to go on and cheer anyway. They dance every bit as good as you watch them do on screen — better. They're electrifying, they're magnetic. You can't pull your eyes away from them for a second. You sing-scream along to songs and mess up all your recordings with your voice.

And then, magic happened.

"We haven't performed this song in a while," they said, and I hazarded guesses: Answer? Inception? Pirate King?

Nope — the first few notes of Turbulence starts playing instead, and I froze.

Suddenly I'm back in 2021 hearing that it's okay to be here, all over again and again and again. And suddenly it's a new moment: the one where your song plays. One which helped tide you over in the loneliest moments in your life, helped hem the parts of yourself you were trying to hold onto loosely together. And it turns an ordinary 3-minute track into feeling simultaneously like forever and a split second.

[I did, however, recover by the last chorus enough to actually film the last chorus, and almost had to laugh at the incredulity of them hopping right into Work right after.]

They wrapped up swiftly afterwards, ending on a very upbeat Bouncy. But the feelings stayed with me after, simmering, culminating in this what I can only describe as Bible-length post. Because I wish I could go back to my old self who denounced concerts and tell her, No, you just don't get it yet — but you will. You'll feel like, for that moment, you belong somewhere — this is exactly, precisely, where you need to be. And it'll be one of the most healing things in the entire world.

I'm still emotional writing this, and I might just end up deleting the post altogether, but I just needed to selfishly announce to the world: I felt this way. I feel this way. I found this one group, these friends, these people in my life who care about me and my interests. And I'm so fucking grateful.

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stop letting miserable people on the internet convince you that you must have a concrete, well-constructed opinion on everything that has ever existed.

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TS IS NOT RELAXING BRO , BECAUSE IM THE OPPOSITE OF RELAXED RN

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headline from the nature briefing today / Map of the World, seperis

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tl;dr: i'm very blessed

i need to scream this somewhere but i was bracing myself for a night of booze and distraction because i didn't buy a ticket for atz's show in my country (my reasons for non-purchase had nothing to do with the boys).

i kept telling myself, it's okay. better things will come. i will see them again some day, even if it's not this particular one.

and then today, early hours of the morning, my other friend messages me, asking if i was interested in a free ticket.

i always believe i'm quite a lucky person overall, i've always somehow had things work in my favour: timings, events, etc. but today i'm allowing myself to be grateful to my friends who always think of me.

i mentioned this a few days ago on a more personal platform but i'd always assumed i'd have to stamp out bits of myself to be friends with people (only to have it royally backfire on me and reduce me into a hysterical mess with irrational outbursts, but that's a whole other can of worms). i always had feelings that were a little too big, cared about things a little too deeply, and was just a little off-centre, or a little out of place.

in recent years, i've approached friendship with a different mindset, and i hope this is reflected in how i treat my friends now too. i hope i'm a better friend to them and i'm forever grateful that they let me into their lives. just very lucky to be cared for, cared about, and accepted – big feelings and all.

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just as we were, just like then–

i just need to ramble after watching the TTL screening twice:

It's been four(ish) years (dating back to May) since I started listening to/explicitly searching for Ateez.

Fresh out of a job that had usurped and unscrambled my sense of identity and self, staying a pillar for two loved ones who were battling different medical conditions while being unable to ask for help, and stifled with the Covid resurgence phobia still rampant, I was running on a deadened autopilot.

I cleaned the whole apartment weekly, I cooked for two, and did little to nothing else that wasn't work – not for lack of trying, but any attempts to do things that used to be interesting or fun to me didn't stir anything inside me anymore.

I couldn't seem to focus, couldn't seem to bring myself to actually give a fuck about anything – not even the things I used to love.

And so, I no longer gave a shit about discovering new music, even, I simply loaded up no-brain-use playlists on Youtube and let them roll on their own—

—and one day, I found them. They were tucked into a plethora of other kpop artists, but the moment those instantly recognisable drumbeats of Wonderland sounded, I straightened.

What the fuck? I glanced over at the video and made a mental note of the artist name.

Honestly, like all fleeting sensations during that time, was certain I was never going to spare them another thought. Except, days later, I ended up specifically looking them up on Youtube. I slid very swiftly into the fandom, and even more honestly, they made it so easy – nearly effortless. I had a special place in my heart for musical theatre, rock influences, themes of rebellion and anarchy – finding Ateez was like finding the culmination of all my teenage interests, though I never imagined they'd be in the shape of eight men.

Suddenly, things became interesting again. I could breathe a little easier when I thought about how much music of theirs I'd yet to uncover, or how many videos I still had to watch, or how many performances I could discover, or how many tracks I could repeat.

I memorised – and still have memorised – their discography, back to front and front to back and sideways. I designed my then-planner May and June covers with Ateez-dedicated pages. I branched out to other groups, too, and ended up painting sketches of these people. It felt like I was thrown into a whole new world full of new fandoms, new jokes that I never would've understood, new passions. It was exhilarating and it offered me a lifeline when I felt like I was about to lose my grip.

I've told this story before, but at the end of 2021, Ateez released the final album of their four-part Zero: Fever series, with their signature twin title tracks: the first was a boppy, satirical hit that was just so Ateez-coded, it's cemented itself as a legacy addition to their setlists.

And the second was Turbulence: a song ostensibly dedicated to a younger demographic struggling to chart their own way in life – a song which wasn't promising that things would be okay, but which reassured you that it was okay to be here, just as we are, just like now.

I wasn't the target demographic; I still ended up crying.

And really, I didn't realise it until I heard it, but I'd been waiting a whole year for someone to tell me just that.

There's a saying in most kpop fandoms that you find the group you love right when you need them. I don't know if that holds up for everyone else, but I'm so, so, so grateful I found Ateez right when I needed them. I'm so glad I stumbled upon that one kpop playlist that sandwiched them between industry giants. I'm so glad they made it easier to breathe when it felt like I was about to sink. I'm so glad for this song, and I'm so glad it found me too.

Four years, one concert, two cinema screenings, and a million performance rewatches and plays later – I might not talk about them with the same novelty I once did, I might not be the most up to date on where they're going on what they're doing next, and I might not even attend certain showcases even if I can (though that's a story for another day, and with reasons that don't concern them as a group), but I'll always have this to keep.

I'll always feel this when I see them perform their hearts out, no matter where they might be. I'll always feel immense pride, wonderment, joy, and – above all – gratitude that the first group I ever chose was the one who assured me it was okay to be when I needed it the most.

Thank you for letting me find you, Ateez. You made this one insignificant nobody's fan's life so much brighter, and so much better, because you are in it.

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w. h. auden, marginalia

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Help a Family in Need💔

I am reaching out on behalf of my dear friend, Mohamad S., who is facing one of the most challenging times of his life. Mohamad is 37 years old and left his homeland in 2015 in search of a safer and better future. He’s a kind, hardworking man, and his small family has always been his greatest priority.

Living abroad, Mohamad has recently endured unimaginable loss and financial strain. Amidst the ongoing conflict in his homeland, his mother passed away, leaving behind his sister and her five young children—the last remaining members of his immediate family.

As the situation worsened, Mohamad managed to help his sister and her children escape to safety in Egypt, covering their immediate needs and securing a temporary refuge for them. Since then, he has been fully responsible for providing everything they need to survive during this transition.

In his efforts to support his family and cope with this devastating loss, Mohamad has found himself deeply in debt. To make matters even more difficult, he recently underwent knee surgery, which limits his ability to return to work for the foreseeable future. This has made it even harder for him to manage his financial responsibilities and the pressing need to provide his family with a stable future.

Mohamad is now working to bring his sister and her five children to join him in Belgium, where he hopes they can find stability and opportunity after all they’ve endured. This transition, however, requires significant resources that he is currently unable to meet alone.

For privacy reasons, we are not sharing Mohamad’s full name, as he has chosen to keep his identity discreet. While he initially refused the idea of asking for help, I couldn’t stand by and watch him struggle alone. I insisted on doing this for him because he deserves a chance to overcome these challenges.

Your contribution will help Mohamad repay the debt incurred during this difficult time, cover ongoing living expenses for his family, and assist with the costs involved in bringing them safely to Belgium.

Mohamad has been a good friend of mine for years, and I’ve always admired his resilience and generosity. Any support, no matter the size, will make an incredible difference in helping Mohamad and his family rebuild their lives after these painful experiences.

Thank you for reading his story and considering helping a man who has always done everything he can for his loved ones.

Adam

Please donate & share: Donation Link

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i need to yell about this here because there's nowhere else i can say this but i've been watching a lot of volleyball matches lately and i just have to agree with all commentators, who i'm sure all arguably hold a soft spot for team japan, and i especially have to agree with that recent volleyball ranking (based on stats) which heralded Sekita as the top setter. never, and i mean, never seen him offer up a bad set, fucking remarkable player

also, Miyaura's so fucking hot, holy hell

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ACT UP, 1990

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kickstarting the 4-day weekend with a centimillimental concert was retrospectively a bad idea because now i have to deal with ugh-work-again on top of post-concert depression

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[via]

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seeing straight men be disgusted by booktok smut recommenders has actually radicalized me to the side of booktok smut recommenders. girls your taste may be atrocious but i will never disparage you for exposing mainstream discourse to the concept of soaking through your underwear. spent my whole life listening to men talk about penises it’s about time they get jumpscared by women talking about pussy in crude detail on social media. go forth and goon my warriors

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But my rage was there, it was there, it pretended to sleep but it never slept, the merest touch of a feather was enough to bring it howling, roaring out.

– James Baldwin, Tell Me How Long the Train’s Been Gone