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newmusicradionetwork · 1 year

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Alt-Country Renegade Dale Watson’s New Album STARVATION BOX Is Available Now!

Dale Watson is known for his authentic approach to country music and his unapologetic dedication to preserving traditional sounds. Paying tribute to his hero, Lead Belly, a highly influential folk and blues musician, Dale Watson is excited to release his latest album Starvation Box today on Cleopatra Records! During the late 19th century, an aspiring musician named Huddie William Ledbetter (aka Lead Belly) departed from his hometown in Harrison County, Texas. This decision was prompted by his father’s attempt to dissuade him from pursuing music. His father disparagingly referred to Huddie’s guitar as a “starvation box,” believing it would only bring poverty and hardship. However, this young man’s impact on the world of music would far exceed anyone’s imagination. Lead Belly’s journey from Texas to becoming a legendary figure in folk blues is truly remarkable, especially considering the challenges and obstacles he faced. His perseverance and talent allowed him to leave a lasting impact on the music world. Even after a century has passed, Lead Belly’s musical legacy lives on, continuing to inspire artists to this day. One such artist is Dale Watson, an opinionated, rebellious, tattooed country crooner, also from Texas. Dale Watson’s decision to title his album Starvation Box and draw inspiration from Lead Belly’s story is a powerful tribute to both Lead Belly’s legacy and Watson’s own artistic journey. By putting his own “starvation box” (his guitar) at the forefront, Watson pays homage to Lead Belly’s determination and musical prowess. This approach highlights the significance of the instrument in the context of both artists’ careers and showcases Watson’s own skills as a troubadour and storyteller. Fans of both Lead Belly and Dale Watson can look forward to experiencing the depth and artistry of Starvation Box. The title track itself marks the commencement of an enthralling musical journey. This track is a collaborative effort between Watson and Mike Henderson, a distinguished songwriter who has received a CMA award for his work on Chris Stapleton’s renowned “Broken Halos.” With a bluesy 12-string guitar riff taking the lead, accompanied by a minimalistic rhythm track, the composition provides ample space for Watson’s weathered baritone voice to shine. As Watson explains, “Living in Marshall, TX, the area so influential to Lead Belly, I went down the Lead Belly rabbit hole. It led me to a 1957 Stella 12-string guitar just like the one Lead Belly had, which his father called a ‘starvation box.’ I knew I had to write that song as an ode to Lead Belly. What I wrote was ok but with Mike Henderson’s additions and of course, his slide guitar and harmonica, I think we came up with a fitting tribute that I hope people like.” There’s plenty more bluesy, folk and roots rock in store on Starvation Box, the album, including an ode to Elvis Presley’s mechanic, “Billy Strawn,” a fantastic cover of Percy Mayfield’s “Like A Stranger In My Own Hometown,” and the superb closer, a gospel rave-up called “Ain’t Nobody Everybody Loved.” To order Dale Watson’s Starvation Box, visit HERE. STARVATION BOX TRACK LISTING: 01. Starvation Box 02. Whatever Happened To The Cadillac – M Music & Musicians Magazine 03. That’s Where The Money Goes – SiriusXM’s Outlaw Country 04. Nothingville 05. Billy Strawn – Cowboys & Indians 06. I Ain’t Been Livin’ Right – Center Stage Magazine 07. Adios 08. Streets Of Gold – Analog Planet 09. Down Down Down Down – Center Stage Magazine 10. Two Peas In A Pod 11. Like A Stranger In My Hometown 12. Ain’t Nobody Everybody Loved – Americana Highways Dale Watson On Tour: AUG 18 – Oriental Theater / Denver Denver, CO AUG 20 – The State Room / Salt Lake City, UT AUG 21 – Neurolux Lounge / Boise, ID AUG 22 – Brewminatti / Prosser, WA AUG 23 – Polaris Hall / Portland, OR AUG 24 – Tractor Tavern / Seattle, WA AUG 26 – The Spa at Blue Lake Casino & Hotel / Blue Lake, CA AUG 27 – Hopmonk Tavern / Novato, CA AUG 28 – Zebulon / Los Angeles, CA AUG 29 – The Cordova Bar / San Diego, CA AUG 30 – Club Congress / Tucson, AZ AUG 31 – Rhythm Room / Phoenix, AZ SEP 02 – Broken Spoke / Austin, TX SEP 24 – Eddie’s Attic / Decatur, GA OCT 19 – The Southgate House Revival / Newport, KY NOV 22 – Luckenbach Texas / Fredericksburg, TX For more information, visit dalewatson.com and cleopatrarecords.com. About Dale Watson: A staunch adherent of old-style honky tonk and Bakersfield country, Dale Watson has positioned himself as a tattooed, stubbornly independent outsider only interested in recording authentic country music. As a result, he hasn’t become a major star, but his music has been championed by numerous critics and has earned him a fervently loyal fan base. His 1995 debut, Cheatin’ Heart Attack, wowed writers and fans with its potent songwriting and authentic honky tonk vibe, 1998’s The Truckin’ Sessions was the first of a series of LPs devoted to his love of big rigs, 2007’s The Little Darlin’ Sessions saw Watson recording alongside some of the legendary session musicians who inspired him, and 2019’s Call Me Lucky found him creatively revitalized after relocating to Memphis, Tennessee. Watson continued to thrive in Memphis, delivering the instrumental record Dale Watson Presents: The Memphians in 2021 and the covers album Jukebox Fury in 2022. Read the full article

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rwprincess · 3 years

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Head Over Feet (Brian Johnson x Fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Word Count: 4.8k

Synopsis: What’s that sound? It’s another anachronistic Brian Johnson songfic! (Based on Alanis Morissette’s Head Over Feet) You’re one of Bender’s trash-punk friends and things change drastically when he brings the scrawny brain from detention with him to meet you all. Set up in snippets, your relationship develops with Brian, even if you weren’t really looking for a relationship.

CW: Teenage smoking (including reader), swearing, parental abuse (being being kicked out), sexism, angst and fluff

“This is Johnson,” Bender indicated the boy he brought along to your group’s spot under the bleachers.

“Brian, please.” The kid corrected. You eyed the gangly youth from top to bottom; in his sweater over a crisply-ironed collared shirt and khakis, he definitely didn’t fit in here with you all. You’d be called grungy punks at best. You didn’t think any of you even owned an iron and crisp definitely wasn’t your style. You blew out a puff of smoke, exhaling the nicotine from your lungs and shifted your gaze to Bender, wondering what he was at with this. He wasn’t the best guy, but pranking this preppy little nerd by bringing him down to your hangout? That seemed beneath him.

“You, uh, running some kinda charity here, Bender? We’re not exactly Make-A-Wish material, kid.” Scorch told the blonde dweeb and you snorted at the thought.

“Shut the fuck up,” was all Bender said in response. The rest of the twenty minutes of Brian Johnson standing there was of course, incredibly awkward and it was clear to everyone that he didn’t fit in. But that didn’t stop him from coming back a week later. And again a few days after that. And again and again until, well, that dork had grown on the lot of you. While he didn’t partake in cigarette smoking like most of you, he did take Bender up on his weed on several occasions and was actually really funny while high. He did weirdly spot-on impressions and had a sense of humor that none of your group had anticipated.

And, as much as you would vehemently deny it, you liked him when he was sober, too. He was incredibly smart and helpful and while his jokes were different without marijuana in his system, he could be amusing. That first awkward encounter was back in March, maybe April. But now you spent time with him without the convenience of school pulling you together. Now it was June and you sought to spend time with him, even without the group. Tonight, you were laying in a field not far from the high school, just the two of you. You liked to listen to him ramble on about the constellations and the myths about why they were named as they were. You remembered liking that as a kid, but you didn’t remember most of the stories. You knew you could ask him questions about the actual stars, too. Like, the science of it, and he would know. But you’d rather let him ramble and tackle one subject at a time. Even though he focused more on science and math, he was a pretty good storyteller, and right now that provided you with more of an escape than talking about the chemical composition of a star. When he finished his retelling of Ursa Minor’s story, however, he remained silent and didn’t start up a new piece of lore. After a moment, you looked at him to see what the hold up was, but you just caught his eye as his gaze was already fixed on you. Your heart started pounding in your chest because you knew what was coming.

“You know, we could go on an actual date some time.” Brian suggested, breaking the silence. You closed your eyes, almost wincing at the words. He was generally more subtle than this, but the same idea had been brought up before. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Brian. In general, you did, and in the honest depths of your soul, it was as more than a friend. But, every time it came down to this subject, you panicked. You had never been serious with anyone and the thought of dating was completely foreign to you. You had messed around with some guys before but you never had feelings for them. You didn’t know how to depend on another person, to have an actual relationship with them.

I had no choice but to hear you

You stated your case time and again

I thought about it

You sighed, your eyes still closed. You didn’t know what to tell him. Before, he always left it as more of a hint and it was easier to dodge. Now he was just coming out and saying it. Basically asking you out, so you would actually have to turn him down this time. The terrible thing was, you didn’t really want to. The conscious side of you wanted to agree and go out with him, on a proper date. But your subconscious kicked you into fight or flight mode and if you weren’t in the middle of a field, you might have picked flight and walked away. But that didn’t seem to be an option.

“Look, Johnson. It’s not that easy. Just...don’t waste your time on me.”

“I’m already wasting my time on you.” He pointed out, but when you took a peek at him, he didn’t seem upset about it. He was actually grinning about it. “We’re already wasting our time out here. Or at the library, or under the bleachers… So why not like, a movie theater or dinner, or my house?”

“Oh yeah, your mom would love having me around.” You joked, humorlessly. The smattering of times you had met Brian’s mother hadn’t gone swimmingly. You could read the derision in her voice and knew she did not approve of her good little baby hanging out with a ne’er-do-well like you.

“She’d come around. You’re different once someone actually gets to know you.” He meant it as a compliment, but you took it as your out.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You leapt up, indignantly and he just gaped at you like a fish out of water.

“I didn’t mean anything bad by it, I swear!” He put his hands up defensively as you looked down at him. “Forget it, I’m sorry.” You had victory, he dropped the subject and your friendship could last another night and you could try to pretend like he wasn’t right, that you two weren’t meant to be something more.

*~~~~*

You treat me like I'm a princess

I'm not used to liking that

You ask how my day was

For the most part, working at Bert’s auto shop felt worthwhile and valuable. Other days, it chewed you up and spit you out. It was hard being in such a masculine environment and not fitting into that type. Customers (mostly men, but even the women too) thought that you were less knowledgeable and handy than your cohorts. Bender’s teasing didn’t help that image, either.

Now you slid into the booth at Gino’s pizzeria utterly deflated and defeated. Of course, Brian took notice right away. “Rough day?” He inquired, pushing a menu towards you even though he knew you ordered the same thing every time.

“That’s not even the half of it. Why does Bender hafta be such a dick all the time?!” You asked, incredulously but sincerely, diving right into your problem.

“I don’t know. I think he thinks it’s part of his charm? Maybe it is. I mean, we’re still friends with him.” You nodded at his point, but clenched your fists just the same.

“I just wish he knew when to back off sometimes. Like, he never realizes he’s taking it too far and digging you further into a shithole.”

“What did he do this time?” Brian’s gaze on you was unbroken; it made you feel important, like your opinion, your story, was the only thing that mattered.

“So we got this old guy in the shop today. Beautiful car, so of course he was hesitant with me touching it.” You began and his eyebrows furrowed, already not liking the direction this was going. “And I’m trying to prove myself worthy to work on this car, even though I would just be doing an oil change, which isn’t like a big deal anyway, right? Simple stuff.” You looked to him to get acknowledgement to move forward.

“I mean, I guess. I don’t really know about oil changes or anything about cars. But I know you do.”

“Right, so Bender has to go and make a crack to the old guy about how they won’t let me near it and I’m just the secretary for the shop or whatever. Just a total dick move. But of course the guy believed him and laughed with him and sent me to go get him a cup of coffee? I mean, what the hell is that?”

“That’s not right. And you wear a mechanic’s uniform at work, why would he think--?”

“Because macho man Bender told him I was! He was more believable than me.” You sank back and put a hand up to brace your forehead as the waitress approached the table. You prepared to order your drink when she set down exactly what you would have ordered in front of you and walked away, promising to come back in a few minutes. You blinked at the cup as if it magically had appeared.

“I uh, figured you’d get the usual and you’d need it when you got here, so I ordered for you. I hope that’s okay.” Brian said and then looked away, suddenly embarrassed by the idea. Since he wasn’t looking at you anyway, you allowed your lips to twitch up into a smile threatening to break out on your face...but only for a moment.

“Yeah, whatever. So anyway, Bender…” you carried on, pretending nothing happened, but secretly cataloguing his gesture in your memory.

*~~~~*

The only thing worse than arguing with Brian or him pissing you off was him making you laugh. There were times that you would go home with sore sides and itchy eyes from the tears that formed while laughing so hard. Then you would always, always reflect on the hours you just spent together, feeling the warmth and butterflies tickle your insides and a nervous heat would prickle your skin as you thought about how happy Brian made you. He never pushed you to do anything; he liked you the way you were. Sure, he would drop hints here and there about how you should stop smoking or give you advice when you had a particularly bad argument with one of your friends, but overall, he just accepted you. And you knew how hard that was to find.

You had never been popular and when junior high rolled around, you accepted that you never would be. You found your own little group of outcasts who understood what it was like to be kicked down time and again, and now he had somehow joined that group too. You knew he understood how it felt. Even though he looked different and came from a very different social circle, he had been looked down upon by his peers all his life. You were guilty of judging him the same way when you first met him, but now you couldn’t imagine life without him. He was cut of the same cloth and you could see yourself in him, which is why you just clicked. And he was so kind and so patient with you. You tried to push him away dozens of times, to put up the barriers and the walls that worked so well for everyone that came before him; you couldn’t be hurt if you never got attached. Where most people gave up and only saw the cold, distant bitch you gave them, Brian always saw something more. He didn’t give up in breaking down those walls, and even accepted just being your friend. That made you love him even more.

Shit, wait. Did you just think about loving Brian? A crush is one thing. Having a buddy to fool around with is one thing. Being in love was quite another.

You've already won me over in spite of me

Don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet

Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn't help it

It's all your fault

*~~~~*

Mercedes Johnson was all about keeping up appearances, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t hear her arguing with Brian on the other side of the door, about you. Again. You had known from the second you met her that she didn’t like you. She was instantly worried about the influence you’d have on her son; it was a common reaction from parents based on the way you looked and the company you kept. You would think you’d be used to it by now.

However, it truthfully bothered you more because this was Brian’s mother. You were hoping that she would be different and see the person underneath like her son had, or at the very least, that she would eventually warm up to you. You had no luck with either.

“I’m not comfortable with having her over at the house right now.” You could hear her tell Brian.

“She’s my friend, ma. Of course she’s going to come over--”

“I’m aware of that but you know I wish she weren’t. I would prefer that you keep the company of other friends.” The formality of her sentences while she was still cruelly putting you both down made you cringe.

“You don’t know her because you won’t give her a chance. She’s not that different from my other friends.”

“You have friends in the Physics Club, from Knowledge Bowl, Honor Students. You don’t need the association with a hoodlum like that or John Bender and I don’t know why you keep insisting on bringing them into my home when I have repeatedly told you no. I don’t want them around your sister, or even you!”

“Fine. Then we’ll leave.” You heard the door swing open harshly and Brian was motioning for you to follow him out of the house.

“Brian Ralph Johnson!” You heard his mother cry after the two of you. Brian held open the front door for you and you looked at him cautiously before rushing out. You knew you weren’t wanted there, but you were worried that he wouldn’t come with you. You were even more worried that he would. “You are not leaving this house.” Mercedes put on the most intimidating tone you had witnessed her use.

“No, I am. We are. I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t bother coming back tonight if you walk out of this house!” She was now pink-faced and losing all of the reserved, polished look you had seen her have. She had never been so...uncomposed.

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” Brian said and grabbed you by the elbow as he escorted you down the driveway to your car. He immediately got into the passenger seat and as you sunk behind the steering wheel, you glanced at him.

“Brian, this is stupid. You don’t have to---you shouldn’t do this.” The whole situation reminded you of the many times you had been kicked out of your house. This was just another home you weren’t welcome in.

He clenched his jaw in response. “Let’s just go. I’ll figure it out later. Please, just drive.”

Your love is thick and it swallowed me whole

You're so much braver than I gave you credit for

That's not lip service

“Your mom gave you a choice, you know. It’s not like she told you to get out. She actually told you not to leave.” You said as you both sat on the trunk of your car, looking out across the field that was slowly turning to a golden hue, both from the afternoon sun and the change into autumn. Neither of your houses were really an option to go to, so you just chose the empty field that you would look at stars in during the summer.

“It’s not like it was really a choice though, was it? I’m tired of her trying to control every part of my life. I need to start thinking for myself, doing things for myself. She needs to understand that I’m going to do what I want, and like who I want to like.” He looked at you meaningfully for a moment, but you looked away quickly. It was too heavy for you to process right now.

“That’s a big step. I’m really impressed with you for standing up for yourself.” You told him, and he gave you an appreciative, heart-stopping smile in return that caused your cheeks to flush. Your parents had shouted at you to leave so many times before, any time you were ‘inconvenient’ for them, that it was hard to relate to someone who chose not to stay. But you wanted to support him and you did feel proud of him today. You thought back to the most recent event in which you had been dismissed from your family, and how you had tried to take it out on Brian:

You slammed your locker and watched him almost jump out of his skin. “I don’t want to talk about this.” You growled at Brian.

“I understand that, but you need to. You can’t just--”

“Just what?”

“You can’t just act like nothing happened or run away from it...run away from here.” You had been disciplined at school yet again and your parents had had enough. You had a big fight with them the night prior and did not sleep in your own bed. The tiredness racked your body today and you were stiff from sleeping in your car. If it weren’t for the social aspect, you wouldn’t have bothered coming to school. But you quickly realized you weren’t in the mood to talk to anyone, and you were only making the situation worse.

“Like hell I can’t.” You stated, quickly turning to walk away.

“Y/N, don’t. Come on, talk to me. Tell me what happened. We can figure it out together.”

“There’s nothing to figure out, bucko. I’ll be fine. I’ll do this on my own. I’m used to that anyway.”

“But you don’t have to be alone, Y/N. That’s what I’m saying! That’s my whole point: I’m here for you!”

“I didn’t ask you to be, Brian.”

“No, because friends don’t have to ask.” His words scared you. Nobody had so adamantly offered to be a safety net to you before.

“Yeah,” you scoffed, “we’re great friends. We’ve bonded so much in the, what, four months you’ve known me?” You rolled your eyes, trying to make him feel uncomfortable, to drive a wedge between you. You only knew how to put up walls, how to run.

“You know we are.”

“Yeah, sure, right. Friends. Not like you want to sleep with me or anything.” You tried to drive another knife into him, to play it off like he was following you only because he had a crush on you, one you tried to pretend wasn’t reciprocated. “It’s not going to happen, Brian. So just accept that we’re not friends.”

He let you get about three steps away before you heard him say, “No. I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work. Sure, part of me wants something more, but...I care about you, Y/N. And if we can just be friends, I am happy with that, I swear. But don’t do this to me. Don’t try to shut me out or walk away or act like you’re fine. I know you well enough to know you’re not.” When you turned around, you could see that he had tears rimming his eyes, threatening to fall, which made your own tears spring up as well. “I am your friend. I’m not going to just let you go and do something stupid. You are going to talk about this. If not to me, then someone else. But you can’t just run away or sleep in your car or, or…”

“Okay.” You said, softly.

“Okay?”

“Fine, let’s talk about it. I screwed up again and my parents kicked me out. So what do I do?”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I...we’ll think of something.” He began to tell you, but you bit your lip and drowned him out in your own sobs. Everything crashed in on you at once; you hadn’t escaped in time. You slid down your locker wall and sat on the floor. Brian joined you and put his arm around you tentatively.

You are the bearer of unconditional things

You held your breath and the door for me

Thanks for your patience

After that day, you knew he wouldn’t let you go. You tried your best to brush him off, to hurt him, to land irreparable blows. But it was all in vain; he stuck by you. You admired how he stood up for you, for your relationship, whatever that meant. He didn’t back down, even though you knew he genuinely cared what you thought. He was willing to put everything on the line just to be with you, in whatever capacity you would allot him. And today, he had chosen you again. He had picked a fight with his mother and chosen you. He placed you above being safe and comfortable and at home right now.

“I’m sorry, this must seem so stupid to be complaining about. I know I don’t have it that bad, it’s just that--”

“No, your problems are valid, too. Your mom sucks.” You told him and he laughed, “But I would be lying if I said it wasn’t...weird to have someone be given the choice to stay instead of being yelled at to get out and that you’re worthless and---I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make this about me.” You said softly, looking down at your hands.

“No, I get it. It’s gotta be on your mind a lot, the uncertainty. Plus, I don’t mind talking about you.” He nudged your shoulder with his own, trying to be playful but you knew he meant that. He always put you first. You couldn’t help your next impulse as your hand shot up to cup his face and you leaned in and kissed him roughly. You weren’t entirely sure why you had done it. It would probably change everything and you couldn’t tell if you were doing it selfishly to feel like someone cared or to keep him around or because you truly wanted to. Of course, he kissed you back, and the feeling it gave you pushed a lot of those doubts from your mind.

You're the best listener that I've ever met

You're my best friend

Best friend with benefits

What took me so long?

*~~~~*

The kiss in the field still didn’t mean you were “together.” Realistically, it complicated things for a while. You avoided Brian for a couple of days and didn’t discuss it when you finally caved in to your desire to see him. He didn’t bring it up either, even though there were many times he would look at your lips like he wanted to make a move again, but you never talked about it. Things began to look “normal” after about two weeks. You spent time at the record shop, or under the bleachers with your friends or in the library with his friends. He nagged you about giving up smoking and you finally listened, much to his surprise.

“What made you finally decide to quit?” He asked, looking at the nicotine patch on your arm. You shrugged, not wanting to tell him the truth.

“I guess I just finally got tired of you being a broken record, mother hen.” You teased him, but he just smiled because he was happy with your choice. The truth of the matter was, you had done it for him. While you weren’t with him, you wanted to be. You didn’t want to keep doing something that bothered him so much, but you also knew that eventually, your habit of smoking would cost time with him and you didn’t want that. You lied to yourself that you didn’t want a relationship and weren’t thinking about a future with Brian, but you were. Every time he helped you study or encouraged you to do your best, the time your parents were out of town so he had made you his “specialty” of spaghetti in your kitchen, when you drove him around singing songs together on the radio...you thought about doing those things with him forever and instead of the fear you used to feel at such a thought, you felt happiness. You anticipated a future with him, something to look forward to.

I've never felt this healthy before

I've never wanted something rational

I am aware now

*~~~~*

“It’s kind of weird, yeah. But they’re cute together, I guess.” You had just returned from a movie with Bender and Claire. You were surprised at how long their relationship had lasted, especially since you had hated Claire at first. You assumed she was dating Bender as a statement, but it had been over six months and they were still together and it just seemed to work.

“It must be nice to have someone like that. Even if they don’t make sense, they care about each other. It just must be a nice thing to have a relationship like that.” Brian looked at you for a moment before backpedaling, realizing he must have made it sound like he was guilt-tripping you. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask you out again. I really just was complimenting them--”

“Well, maybe you should.” You cut him off.

You realized how rare a find like Brian truly was. He always put you before himself; he listened to all of your problems and knew when to offer solutions and when to just listen. He was endlessly supportive, and kind. He kept taking giant risks just to be with you, to show you that you mattered to him. You knew, without him saying it, that he loved you. Why else would someone go to the lengths he did, just to make you happy? You had tried everything to shake him, to get rid of him so neither one of you would be in too deep to get hurt. But he stayed, and now, you wouldn’t want him to go anyway. It was too late; you were both already in too deep.

He just blinked at you, sure he had heard incorrectly. “Wh-what?”

“I said, maybe you should. Ask me out again.”

“Y/N, do you want to go out with me?” He asked, unsure. It felt like a setup, but he knew you wouldn’t do something so cruel to him.

“Yes.” You replied, softly.

“Why?” He asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“I don’t know. I guess you won me over.” You chuckled, but he failed to see the humor in it, so you changed to a more serious tone. “Brian, I thought that these feelings would go away, that you would go away. Lord knows how hard I’ve tried to push you. But...you didn’t and the feelings didn’t. I-I love you. And I’m pretty sure I’m going to keep loving you, I don’t want to waste my time with anyone else. And...And I think that you love me.”

“I do.” He breathed quietly, with zero hesitation.

“So, why fight it any more? I was afraid that I would hurt you, but I think I’ve already done that and you’ve stuck around.” He nodded in confirmation of that fact. “And I was scared that I would get hurt but...but I’ve realized that you won’t do that to me, either.”

You've already won me over in spite of me

Don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet

And don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn't help it

It's all your fault

He took your hands in his, “You’re serious? You really want this? Because, you know how I feel. How I’ve always felt.” You nodded in response, tears quickly filling your eyes, which was a rarity for you. He leaned in towards you to kiss you, for the first time since your conversation in the field over a month ago. He waited for you to be ready in every aspect of your relationship and you had never known so much love and respect before. It took some adjusting to, but he had pulled you in and made you fall for him again and again.

Just gonna tag my buddy...

@90sinequity

#brian johnson x reader #brian x reader #breakfast club #the breakfast club #reader insert #reader-insert #romance #mild angst #angst with a happy ending

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artist-fernand-leger · 3 years

Photo

The Railway Crossing (Sketch), Fernand Léger, 1919, Art Institute of Chicago: Modern Art

Fernand Léger first saw the work of Georges Braque and Pablo Picasso at the Paris gallery of Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler. Around 1909 Léger began to paint in a Cubist style, although his compositions in this mode are more colorful and curvilinear than works by Braque and Picasso of the same period, with their angular forms and subdued tones. An artist with far-ranging interests and talents, Léger later became a designer for theater, opera, and ballet, as well as a book illustrator, filmmaker, muralist, ceramist, and teacher.Typically, Léger would develop a major composition by preparing studies in a variety of media. The Railway Crossing is an oil study for The Level Crossing (1919; private collection, Basel, Switzerland). When he took up this subjectin 1919, he made a number of drawings and oil sketches, including the present work. Like many of his contemporaries, Léger was fascinated by the machine age. He maintained that machines and industrial objects were as important to his art as figures. References to such elements pervade The Railway Crossing. In the midst of a complex scaffolding of cylinders and beams, an arrow appears on a brightly outlined signboard. A network of solid volumes and flat forms seems to circulate within the shallow space, just as pistons move within a motor. The precise definition of his forms and the brilliance of his palette express Léger’s belief that the machine, along with the age it created, was one of the triumphs of modern civilization. — Entry, Master Paintings in the Art Institute of Chicago, 2013, p. 118. Like Robert Delaunay'sChamps de Mars: The Red Tower of 1911, Fernand Léger's The Railway Crossing (Preliminary Version) is a paean to modernity, its dynamism, energy, and movement. Unlike Delaunay's earlier work, however, this painting contains no specifically recognizable objects, except the directional sign with the arrow. Rather than a representation of a rail-road crossing, Léger created a new kind of visual poetry from the fragments, colors, and shapes of his environment, evoking the rich sensations elicited by modern industrialized life. Tubular beams appear to intersect the surface, evoking both the pistons of a machine and the open, metal structures used in modern construction. Other forms, such as the circular, target-like shape on the left, the stripes that proliferate throughout the painting, and most obviously the directional sign with the arrow, seem to have been inspired by the colorful, simplified geometry of road signs or the loud, attention-getting designs of billboards and posters. In this respect, Léger prefigured the later fascination of Pop artists with these elements of modern life. The railroad crossing, a subject epitomizing the noisy mechanical world that Léger loved, had first been painted by the artist as early as 1912. In 1919, he resumed portraying this subject, making a number of drawings and oil sketches, including our own, in preparation for a much larger, finished painting. The Art Institute version already contains the major compositional elements found in the final work. There is, however, one dramatic difference: for the final painting, Léger decided to turn the entire composition upside down, in what amounts to a declaration of the painting's complete autonomy from representation. —Entry, Margherita Andreotti, Art Institute of Chicago Museum Studies, Vol. 20, No. 2, The Joseph Winterbotham Collection at The Art Institute of Chicago (1994), p. 156-157. Joseph Winterbotham Collection; gift of Mrs. Patrick Hill in memory of Rue Winterbotham Carpenter Size: 21 5/16 × 25 7/8 in. (54.1 × 65.7 cm) Medium: Oil on canvas

https://www.artic.edu/artworks/79600/

#fernandléger #artinstituteofchicago #modernart #museumarchive

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walpurga-nacht-academy · 4 years

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The Witch Dances

It is said that during the annual gatherings of the eight witches on the Bald Mountain where they would swear obedience to their Master, they would engage in dancing and loud partying for his amusement. They would usually follow the format of a circle dance, the witches coming together around a bonfire, and overcome by frenzy became enticed to spin and sway to unheard melodies among demons and spirits. These dances could and usually did go on throughout the entire night until the break of day. Their laughter and yelps could be heard from the base of the mountain and villagers of Brocken would often be tempted to join them in their revelry. However, this was considered unwise as the dancing was sacred to the witches themselves, and any man caught spying would be immediately struck mad.

Nowadays, the dances are performed as an homage to the memory of the eight illustrious figures whose teaching inspired the formation of the dorms. Taking place a week before the Sorting ceremony, students who passed the admission exam are invited to attend a ceremony known as the Witch Dances. Its purpose is to help the young girls about to enter Walpurga Nacht decide which particular dorm they might find most helpful for their studies based on its presentation by the Prefects.

Danse Macabre

Opening the Witch Dances at dusk is an event known as the “Danse Macabre”. In the venue which takes the form of a theatron (ancient Greek theater), a group of twelve students are gathered in the middle around a bonfire that is burning brightly. Dressed in red, loose dresses the girls also wear masks that resemble various animals, among the most common being pigs, wolves and goats. Around them, at a fair distance, is another group of nine girls clad in black and seated down with hangs in their laps or tambourines in their hands. The girls around the bonfire hold hands and as the others students begin to play their instruments start to dance in a circle around the bonfire. The dance is wild and unstructured, accompanied by chanting and punctuated by yelps and shouts as the students twirl and move to the rhythm of the music. The red clothing makes it seem like they are blending in with the fire itself, and the animal masks create a grotesque image of madness and devilry.

The purpose of this dance is two-fold: to recreate what the atmosphere on the night where the eight witches met on the Bald Mountain must have felt like and to acknowledge the sacred nature of this event. Though information about the witches is scarce, it is said that the eight of them came from very different walks of life based on the textual evidence left behind by their grimoires. The fact that they would assemble each year and treat each other as equals was proof of their respect for each other. The twelve girls dancing around the first are said to represent the months of the year, and the number nine is considered a cursed one but also has connotations of power.

As a result the twelve dancing girls are girls chosen for the month of their birth, at random, from among the second, third and fourth years. It reinforces the idea that no matter the girl they are all witches at their core. The nine instrumentalists are all chosen from among the music club. The girls usually prepare for this event before the end of the previous school year, after the Prefects for the next year are announced.

The Prefects’ Dances

Once the Danse Macabre is over, all that remains on the stage is a ring of scorch marks and footsteps. What follows is a short speech given by the Headmistress of the school regarding the legends of the eight witches and their teachings, before introducing the Prefects at the start of their performances to the audience.

What follows afterwards are the presentations for the eight dorms according to what the respective Prefect thinks are its most important features. Traditionally, Rosenhex has always had a focus on their mastery of enchantments and charms, either bringing constructions to life or asking for volunteers from the audience in order to cast a charm on them. Grimmaire takes a more methodical approach and almost simulates a classroom lecture, as the Prefect rattles off the many spell compositions and steps to be undertaken when casting. Kriegskald’s performances have usually been focused on showing off their newest creations and mechanisms, or bolder Prefects have gone ahead and attempted to recreate them on stage. Galdtrea’s performances are often cited as lacklustre as there are only so many ways one can talk about and present a collection of herbs and plants. Monarchia presentations are turned usually into a monster show, where tamed beasts are brought to show the audience their various tricks and abilities. Oraluna has focused mainly on showcasing its divination talents and fortune telling by asking for volunteers from the audience. Eliksia has always done a live demonstration of how their alchemical concoctions might be used or what their effect might be, with the Prefect explaining the process. While Noctasis has remained rather controversial with its exhibitions of mummified corpses and pickled organs to this day.

The Danse Macabre portion is allocated thirty minutes, and is followed by a short intermission of fifteen minutes. The Headmistress’ speech is usually an hour and a half, followed also by an intermission. Each Prefect is given 50 minutes to perform their ‘dance’ and it is up to them how they use it. While the dancing witches must wear red and animal masks, and the singing witches must wear black, the Prefects are allowed to dress in any manner they consider fitting. Some may order customized costumes, while others may choose to don the school’s Ceremony Dress. The only request is that whatever clothing they wear, it must remain in the limits of public decency.

The Witch Dances are not traditionally televised, this being seen as a breach of privacy, however this year, at the request of Prefect Rosalia Morgainne, the school has allowed her manager to livestream the eight performances. It was considered inappropriate for the Danse Macabre to be caught on camera, and the manager considered the Headmistress’ speech irrelevant to the PR campaign he was undertaking.

Notes: The idea for the Witch Dances comes from several sources. First there is the Disney animated short “Night on the Bald Mountain” where spirits and demons dance for Chernabog’s amusement in infernal fire. The image of the three masks (pig, wolf, goat) correspond to the three animals that appear during a scene in the short. The red dresses are an allusion to the Fire Women that also appear there. Second, there is the image of Walpurgisnacht as shown in Goethe’s Faust, where witches and warlocks dance together on top of the Harz Mountains. Another reference is made to the Iele, which are beings in Romanian folklore who are said to dance so beautifully it drives men mad. The name ‘Danse Macabre’ refers to the artistic allegory on the universality of death: regardless of one’s station in life, death comes for all.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanschool #walpurga nacht academy #twisute #twisute oc #twist #twist oc #fanschool lore #twst fanschool #rosenhex #grimmaire #kriegskald #galdtrea #monarchia #oraluna #eliksia #noctasis #witch dances #school event

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the-hopeless-haze · 4 years

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Someone to Sit In Your Chair and Ruin Your Sleep (Being Alive Chapter 3)

(not my gif)

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But he doesn’t hate you enough to take you to a shitty, cheap restaurant, no, he takes you to one of his favorite Cuban joints a few blocks away. He doesn’t hate you enough to tell you to move out of the seat he wanted to sit in (he always sat facing away from the crowd, but you’d made a beeline for that seat when you first got there). He doesn’t even hate you enough to make you pay for dinner, or even split the bill with him, despite your protests and insistence that you were only joking before.

Dinner isn’t awkward, per se, and as far as first dates go this one is going alright, he thinks. First dates were usually easy, though, as they didn’t reek of forced commitment and the staleness of knowing a person too well. You flirt with him a lot, and maybe he shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was, considering what you had the boldness to say outside the precinct hours earlier. Still, what the hell did you see in him, a man much older than yourself? Maybe you had issues too.

He can’t deny it, though, you’re absolutely beautiful, especially now, your cheeks flushed from the wine and conversation, and a seemingly permanent smile on your lips as you talk. Vaguely, he wonders if he ever gave you signs that he was interested, because lord knows he tried not to. Something had to have given you the nerve to shoot your shot, though, especially after what you’d said to him. You probably knew you were gorgeous, knew if you turned up the charm you could at the very least get a free dinner out of him.

But is that all you wanted? What did you want from him? What the hell else could he even offer?

“You know, I really do want to apologize for what I said, again,” you say after your plates are cleared. “I really don’t know why I went there. I mean, that’s not like me. I do like you, you know? You can be a hardass sometimes, though.”

“So I’ve been told,” he says, and he can’t help but grin.

“Well. I’m sorry for taking it so personally. I know you’re just doing your job.”

“Mm. Well, I suppose I can forgive you again.”

“Wow, thanks, Rafael,” you tease, smiling that beauty pageant smile again as you hold up your wine glass. “To starting over?”

He’s tempted to roll his eyes but he plays along instead, lifting his own glass to clink against yours. “To starting over,” he repeats, even though, semantically, you had never started anything until now. If you were even starting something.

“Did you enjoy yourself, Detective?” he asks, his hand on your waist as he leads you out of the restaurant.

“I did. The food was delicious. You know, I have a name, right? Or are we still not on first-name basis yet?”

He gives in to temptation this time and rolls his eyes, stopping short outside the restaurant. “Do you want to come back to my place for a few drinks, Detective, or do you want me to take you home?”

You laugh, “I don’t put out on the first date, Counselor.”

“I wasn’t—“

“But if you’d really like to just have drinks, you don’t have to force my hand.”

“You really take me for that kind of man?” he asks. He hates you, he hates you so much, his blood is boiling again.

“Why don’t you relax? I know you didn’t mean it like that.” Your eyes meet his, and you smile, kissing his cheek. “I’d be absolutely enchanted if you would take me to your apartment for drinks, Señor Barba.”

He rolls his eyes again, his lips pursed into a thin line. He still hates you. Maybe more so now. He misses when you used to shut that snippy mouth of yours.

——-

He’s livid when you sit in his chair, the one he always sits in, the recliner closer to the TV. Why couldn’t you have taken the couch? That’s what it’s for, guests, although maybe it’s been so long since he’s had any that you can tell it doesn’t look as lived in as the rest of the place.

Not that he's really ever home. He either spends his nights in the office with a pounding headache, or he’ll have dinner with his mother and abuelita. On rare occasions, he’ll join the squad for drinks, but he always feels disconnected, like he doesn’t quite belong. Amanda and Nick were closer than friends but not quite lovers, Fin and Olivia had known each other for over a decade, and you and Carisi are already thick as thieves despite his recent arrival. Rafael was always the odd one out, the one to make a composite number prime. Whatever conversation he entered, he was always the third wheel.

But now, an even rarer occasion, it’s just you and him, and your heels are digging into the leather of his chair as you curl your legs under you.

He asks you to get out of the chair gruffly, and you laugh, saying, “You know, Counselor, I’m getting the feeling that you don’t like me.”

“Oh, now you’re catching on?” he quips. “What do you want to drink?”

“I’ll have what you’re having,” you say, getting up from his chair to move to the couch, your heels clicking on his hardwood.

“You drink scotch?”

“I will,” you say.

He mutters in Spanish to himself, setting up two glasses with ice and pouring the amber liquid over it.

You’re sitting on the sofa, staring at your phone when he walks in. “Do you want me to take your jacket?”

“Sure,” you say, standing up and loosening the sleeves. He takes it from you, bringing it into the kitchen, where he puts his own coat and suit jacket down.

“You're still the only person I've ever seen wear suspenders.” You tease, bringing your drink to your lips as he walks back into the room.

“Thought I was well-dressed.”

“Yeah. I don’t retract that statement.��

“You’re beautiful,” he tells you suddenly, making eye contact with you, feeling slightly uncomfortable at how the compliment rolls of his tongue, but it’s worth it because you blush a little. Maybe you actually didn’t know you were stunning. Rafael sits down next to you on the couch, close enough that his knee almost touches yours.

“You think so?” you ask, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I honestly didn’t think you noticed me.”

“It’s hard not to.”

“Mm. Charmer,” you say, your grin widening. You press your knee to his, lean over a little. “I think, counselor, that you should kiss me, then.”

“Is that what you think, (y/n)?” he asks quietly, trying out your first name for the first time.

“Mm. Unless you don’t want to?”

God, did he want to, but it would mean there was no going back. Although, maybe at this point, it wouldn’t matter. Your mutual attraction had been laid out on the table and you were no longer merely coworkers. And he can’t lie, he loves the anticipation, but he’s worried about what will happen after all that fades. When you inevitably ended this, how could you work together?

“What do you want from me?” he asks.

“I think I made myself clear. I want you to kiss me, Rafael,” you tease.

“That’s not what I meant, (y/n). You know what I’m asking you,” he says, cursing himself for stuttering over your name. He leans closer, too, leaving his drink on the end table, moving his hand tentatively to your knee.

“Why don’t you kiss me first?” Your voice lowers an octave, and he’s never seen a woman more sultry or more antagonizing. “Are you really going to make me beg?”

Fuck.

His hand comes to touch your cheek, and it burns the palm of his hand. He uses his thumb to brush your lips gently. “You can’t just give a straight answer, can you?”

“No,” you smile against his thumb.

“Except for that,” he says, and he’s smiling too, even though he can’t stand you, and he closes the distance between the two of you, kissing you gently.

He hates you more now, hates the way the scotch tastes on your lips, hates the feel of your mouth on his.

But he needs more.

You, being you, your hands come to grasp his suspenders and he’s leaning in closer, aiming to take all the breath you had in you.

“So what do you want?” He asks as he makes himself pull away, breathless.

“More of that. But... Let’s just see where it leads us, okay?”

“Not an answer.”

“I don’t know the answer yet. Do you?”

“Well...no,” he admits. He can’t commit to you and he was bound to tell you that if you asked to be his girlfriend. But you didn’t. Maybe you weren’t ready yet, either.

“It’s just, we work together. Better if we take things slow,” you say.

“Agreed.”

“So we’re on the same page? That’s a first,” you giggle, but he doesn’t get a chance to respond sarcastically because your mouth is on his again.

The drinks flow a little too quickly for his liking, but he’s opening up a little, loosening his tie and his lips. He tells you about his Mami and his abuelita, only good things, and he makes you laugh at stories he has from the theater company he was part of in undergrad.

Even with the alcohol in your system, you’re tighter than him. You don’t give away much of any information. You have a younger brother, he learns, and your parents are divorced. Vaguely he wonders if your father walked out - maybe that’s why you came onto him like that. Rafael prays that’s not the case, because he can’t even sort out his own daddy issues, never mind your own. He might be older, wiser, over the games men your age played, but he’s no father figure, that’s clear.

Thankfully, you mention that your father helped you set up your apartment when you moved to New York and Rafael relaxes. So it wasn’t your father who hurt you, but someone did.

Oh, look at him, trying to psychoanalyze a detective, no less one with a psychology degree. Stupid. Whatever damage you had was cloaked in coping mechanisms and flirting, because you knew how to hide it having studied it yourself. And maybe he shouldn’t be so focused on trying to figure you out. That’d be getting too close too damn fast. He didn’t owe you that.

You kiss a couple more times throughout the night, but it’s nothing too wild. You made clear that you weren’t putting out and he didn’t expect you to. Even still, he’s not ready for even that. Sex doesn’t have to be intimate, as he knows from past experience, but with you, it’d be crossing a bridge into uncharted territory. And Amanda was a goddamn hound. She’d smell it on both of you before he had a chance to talk to Olivia or McCoy about it.

It isn’t until midnight that he checks the time. “Mierda. I have to be back in the office for 8 tomorrow,” he says, shaking his head. He hates you.

You kiss his cheek. “I should’ve kept track of the time. I can get a cab home. You don’t have to bring me back.”

“What time do you have to be in?”

“9...”

“Go in early and take the OT. Stay here. I’m not going to have you try and hail down a cab this late...and this inebriated.”

“I can take the couch—“

“No. You already ruined my sleep. Come to bed,” he says, and you don't argue.

It's been so long since he's slept next to someone else, and he can't seem to make it there anyway. So he watches you through half-lidded green eyes, your chest rising and falling. Jesus, Olivia’s pissed-off face runs through his mind and he can only imagine the reaming out he’d get if she had any idea that you were in his bed right now. Sure, they were friends, but there is no way in hell she would approve of him dating one of her detectives, especially not you. Sometimes Rafael thinks Olivia sees too much of her younger self in you. Some of it was valid, sure, but she’d really taken you under her wing in a way she hadn’t with, say, Amanda. Perhaps some of it has to do with the fact that she was your boss from the start of your hire, but either way, she’s protective and almost maternal toward you. He’s seen her going to bat for you, intimidating a suspect who made a sexual comment about you in front of her. Christ, Rafael would not want to be on the receiving end of that vitriol, that piercing look in her normally soft brown eyes as she said something about wanting the suspect's balls in a blender.

So that keeps him up for a while, but he's not really dating you, is he? You're just keeping him company and keeping him up at night. Olivia didn't need to know a damn thing.

Of course, you're an early riser, and he has half a mind to wonder if you were trying to get out of the apartment before he woke up, but you're also very loud as you stumble around his room and wake him out of his fitful sleep. "Sorry, Rafael," you say, blushing. "I can't really sleep past 5:30."

"Whatever, I'm already awake," he grumbles, sitting up.

"Mm. No wonder why you need that much coffee," you tease cheerfully, leaning over to kiss him. "Grumpy, much? Guess you wake up on the wrong side of the bed every day."

"You are...beyond irritating, (y/n)," he murmurs. "You're lucky you're beautiful."

You laugh heartily at that, too grating and high-pitched for this early in the morning. "Mm. You're lucky you're attractive, too, Rafael. I don't think anyone could tolerate you otherwise."

So was this how it was going to be? Maybe this could be fun; until it wasn't. Rafael tries not to think about it ending, because hell, it'd barely started, but he's learned that the long-term doesn't work for him. And he had nothing to show for trying, either. You would flit into his life, stay your time, and then leave just as quickly as you came; like you were never there at all. That's all he ever was, a stepping stone to bigger and better things. Hell, Yelina almost married the Mayor of New York.

Fuck it. He wasn't jumping in headfirst, Lord knows he's far too hurt and afraid to do that. But he could see this through for a little while. It's not like he had any better propositions, right?

NEXT CHAPTER

#rafael barba #ada rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #barba #barba x reader #barba x you #rafael barba imagine #svu #svu fanfiction #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #law and order: special victims unit #law & order svu #law & order svu fanfiction #raul esparza

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pastiel · 4 years

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Do you have any headcannons for the kids? (Claris, Elliott, Will, Helen, Leo, Emma)

I do!! But I’m only going to put Claris and Elliot here, and do Helen and Will in their own post, as well as Leo and Emma.

Claris:

- Is the oldest out of the NiGHTS children crew aged at 15. She’s a sophomore in high school, and attends a rigorous school for performance arts. Her love of the arts comes not from actual passion, but the need to prove herself to her family. Singing, as well as music composition however, are her strong suits and have even become a sort of hobby. Her big dream is to have her voice heard by millions.

- She suffers from Social Anxiety Disorder (SAD), and often is in and out of therapy offices. While her family tries to help out as much as they can, their constant pressure (coupled with expectations from schools and talent scouts) over Claris to succeed does absolutely nothing to better her situation. She has found ways to manage it, including the coping mechanism known as ‘Centering’.

- Her relationship with NiGHTS and Nightopia are strange compared to other children. While she does like going there and seeing NiGHTS, she’s also smart enough to recognize them as one of the nightmaren, and doesn’t exactly put her full trust in them. Despite this, though, she does allow NiGHTS to dualize with her for more selfish reasons, such as forgetting her anxieties and worries for a while. And Claris is pretty sure that she herself is also being used selfishly by NiGHTS in return.

- Her biggest Nightmaren to face is Jackle, The Tarotic. You could reason Puffy to be her biggest challenge, seeing as she’s an opera singer and Claris wants to be a singer. But... Jackle... he’s sporadic, unpredictable, and relentless. Just like Claris’ anxiety. That’s the biggest thing she needs to overcome, meaning that to overcome that, she must get through Jackle and realize it can be controlled with time and effort.

- Years after the events with NiGHTS, Claris became a much more profound and confident performer, and went on to do theater work before signing onto a record label. I always liked the idea of Claris starting a band and writing an album about her experiences in Nightopia. Claris becoming a known celebrity, to me, seems to be the best ending for her because not only did she prove to her family that she had talent like them, but followed her dreams just like NiGHTS would’ve wanted.

Elliot:

- The second oldest in the NiGHTS children crew, aged 13. He’s an 8th grader in middle school, and about to enter high school. Elliot enjoys playing sports with the other city kids, and considers himself relatively popular. His biggest dream is to become a professional athlete.

- Elliot’s family situation is... not the best. He lives with his mother, but his father isn’t present in the picture anymore. He doesn’t let this bother him though, because he figures staying in high spirits would calm his mother more than if he let himself get upset about it. (He really loves his mom- do not even say a word about her- he will fight you 1v1 in the basketball court if you say anything).

- Elliot, unlike Claris, likes NiGHTS a ton and can forgive and forget their past in favor of flying around. NiGHTS became a sort of comfort person to be near, even if it’s just in his dreams. Elliot’s pride was brutally wounded by the neighborhood bullies in his specific area of Twin Seeds. He feels as if his worth is gone, and that he’s not good enough for the basketball court because of it. But, being around NiGHTS helped him see that he is stronger than those other kids, and as long as he knows that he’s good and does as best as he can, he shouldn’t let the words of equally insecure teenagers ruin his stride.

- Elliot’s biggest Nightmaren to face is Reala, The Enforcer. He’s strong, accomplished in what he sets his mind to, and is force to be reckoned with. Elliot doesn’t just see Reala as a powerful opponent, but also the representation of the teenager harassers he deals with outside of the dream realm. While defeating Reala instills confidence in himself, it also grants the gratifying feeling of taking back his honor as a person.

- After the events of NiGHTS, Elliot didn’t entirely give up sports, but chose also to focus on his schoolwork. It slightly interfered with each other here and there, but nothing too major. In high school, he played for his schools basketball team, but went to college to learn structure in management. It seems like an odd choice for someone who loves sports, but he did it so he could train to coach a professional team.

#nights into dreams #I’ve actually written stuff about these two being chaotic friends #would anyone like to actually read that stuff?#claris sinclair #elliot edwards #real clown ramblings

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gamewise · 4 years

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Osomatsu-kun Hachamecha Gekijou Review

(Author’s warning: the following game contains racially insensitive stereotypes. They are not present in these screencaps, and are not the effect of the game’s relatively low score. The game is a product of its time not just on a technical level, but on a cultural level. If you choose to read this review, massive spoiler alert: this is just not a good game, no matter how you slice it.)

In Japan, the Mega Drive debuted in October of 1988 with a whopping two titles available at launch; Space Harrier 2, and Super Thunder Blade. It wouldn’t take long for the humble 16-bit console to get its third title, a licensed game based on the Osomatsu-Kun manga which was about to get a new anime adaptation thanks to its popularity coming back. So you’re probably thinking this is a cheap cash-in title designed to promote the new anime, and I would like to say you’re right, but... actually, no, you’re right. Osomatsu-Kun Hachamecha Gekijou (Little Osomatsu: Nonsensical Theater) is a cheap cash-in that does more harm than good for the Mega Drive.

Before we dive into this game, let’s talk about Osomatsu-Kun itself. Osomatsu-Kun was a hugely popular manga about a group of trouble making sextuplets, who just so happen to all look the same. The manga ran for a whopping seven years back in the 60′s, receiving an anime adaptation at the peak of its popularity in 1966. In 1988, Studio Pierrot would bring forth a new anime adaptation that would see the sextuplets as side characters, with characters Iyami and Chibita, and their misadventures becoming more of the main focus. So seeing the side characters get thrust into the spotlight because they become popular is definitely nothing new, especially when the original manga did the same! So now that we have a new anime adaptation on the way, what are we getting for our video game cash in?

Well... just look at it. I know Japan is notorious for making some pretty surreal stuff, but Osomatsu-Kun Hachamecha Gekijou takes the fucking cake. You play as the oldest of the six brothers, and go on a quest to... uh, you know, I don’t think this game really has much of a story to it. You go through three different stages trying to get from point A to point B while you, armed with a slingshot, take out enemies based on other characters in Osomatsu-Kun, a lot of them being Chibita. And yes, you heard right, this game is only 3 stages long, so it should be quick and easy, right? Well... sit down, this game pads itself out in the worst possible way, and it managed to piss me off.

As you progress through a level, you may think it’s as simple as reaching the end of a stage... it’s not. Remember the infamous maze level in the Japanese Super Mario Bros. 2, or the one in Transformers Comvoy no Nazo? Well, there is a specific route you’re expected to take in this game, and it’s not clear. You’ll play this game going from point A to point B, but once you reach a certain point, the screen will just stop allowing you to move forward. You’ll see yourself before a pit, and think it’s instant death. In this game, it’s not death, it just leads you to a different part of the level. However, the path you need to take is cryptic as hell, and you’ll never know if you’re going the right way. The only way to find out is to take out the correct sub boss. When you do, you’ll see an intermission bumper like you would for anime, and you’ll ask yourself “Wait, am I just going through the first level again?” The answer is partially yes, because remember that point where the screen wouldn’t let you advance? Well, now you will see a platform show up that can take you to a new part of the level, but now you need to find a new path to get to point B. All of this is designed to pad the game’s extraordinarily short length. By short, I mean that if you know your way through all three levels, you can finish this game in about 15 minutes.

(Thank you to the person who put this shit together)

I’d be able to forgive the maze-like structure if the game was any fun to play, but as it stands, this is a painfully generic floaty platformer. By floaty I mean Osomatsu himself defies gravity by being able to float in the air for an extended period of time with his jump. It’s nice to be able to control his jump mid-air, but the weightlessness will more than likely mess up your precision platforming, or you’ll get interrupted by the mere touch of your enemies. Yes, when you take damage, you get stun-locked, and instead of just falling to the ground, you are stun locked mid-air. I could forgive it, but this game is once again, a 30 frames per second game, and almost feels like it’s been slowed-down intentionally. Another issue I take with this game is the difficulty, it’s way too easy. All enemy projectiles can be destroyed with your slingshot, and there’s enough distance between you and the enemy to have a pattern figured out easily. I guess the idea was because your slingshot has such a short range of attack, it would balance things out, but it really doesn’t. You’ll have plenty of lives and health to go up against the boss and sub boss as the game gets fairly generous with health powerups. There are also shops where you can buy some items to guide you with the ribbons you’re collecting along the way, but before you can access that you get the option of playing mini-games to gamble them away. I’d just skip these and go straight to the shop, it’s not like you need these power-ups that much anyway, you can beat this game without them.

On the visual side... this was the worst the Mega Drive had in 1988. Sure, it’s colorful, and the sprites evoke the spirit of the original manga, but this looks like a hold over from the Master System/Mark III, it just doesn’t impress me. Aesthetically, the game is fine for the most part, but eventually you’ll run into a few racial stereotypes for your enemies, and boy are they horribly insensitive. Even knowing this, I pressed on with the game, because I wanted to see if I could take something positive out of it and look past those enemy sprites, and about the only thing I find entertaining is Iyami being all the bosses. So aside from a few bad sprites, I find the graphics were more focused on aesthetics and functionality than pushing technical limitations early. Audio wise this game is just plain awful. There’s an old saying among video game music fans that only Japan could use the Mega Drive’s unique sound setup correctly, but if that’s the case, they’ve never listened to this game’s music. It’s obnoxiously loud, the sound effects are super scratchy, it feels too much like an assault on my ears compared to the sound effects on something like Curse, or even Taz-Mania. Nothing against the compositions themselves, I found two songs to be catchy, but otherwise, nothing stood out for the right reasons. Definitely not a keeper.

At the end of the day, Osomatsu-Kun Hachamecha Gekijou is shovelware of the highest honor. Even if you can endure the game’s painfully easy difficulty, and frustrating level layouts, you are left with a feeling of emptiness by the time you reach the end. This game will not so much break you, but it will leave you feeling empty and depressed as you say to yourself, “that’s it?” I certainly felt empty after playing this. Like I just lost about 20 minutes of my life, and I’ll never get it back. Is there much worse on the Mega Drive? Yes, but considering it was 1988, the console had nowhere to go from here but UP. I wouldn’t even think of recommending this today, even as a curiosity. This is one of those cases where I can say avoid at all costs

Positives

+ Aesthetics mimic the source material perfectly

+ Controls respond

+ The game’s translated subtitle “Nonsensical Theater” perfectly describes everything

Negatives

- Unnecessarily pads its length thanks to a cryptic maze structure

- Unacceptably short

- Insults your skill by being piss easy

- Racial stereotyping may be enough to turn you away

- Designed to cash in on Osomatsu-Kun’s returning popularity in the 80′s

- The game’s translated subtitle “Nonsensical theater” perfectly describes everything

- Audio will hurt your ears

- Unless you need to complete an actual Mega Drive collection... skip it.

- While taking screenshots, I somehow managed to unlock the game’s framerate, indicating that this game was deliberately programmed in assembly to play at 30 frames per second. The floaty mechanics actually handled better under 60 fps, no fucking joke. Do you believe this shit?

Overall: 2/10

#video games #osomatsu kun #sega #retro #retro gaming

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theatre-or-theater · 5 years

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Follies National Theatre: A Folly of Direction and Visual Storytelling

It pains me to write my very first theater review that so fervently contrasts what seems to be a general consensus in London theater review circles, but I started this blog with no connection to my real name for a reason. I want to share my thoughts honestly.

Now, some caveats: I’m not a musical theater person. I’m also not not a musical theater person. I like a good musical, and have enough experience watching them that I know what good work looks like. That being said, all of my training is in contemporary american theater and in the avant-garde. I am drawing from a theater education that had absolutely zero musical content.

That being said, the National Theatre’s production of Follies was... alright.

Now, I want to call a spade a spade. When you see a main-stage musical at the National Theatre in London, you’re going to see amazing production value. It’s going to have the best cast, the best band, an expensive and elaborate set, incredible costumes, all the dressings and baubles. You know how musicals are, and it’s going to be a musical with all the best resources available to it. I’m judging it on a playing field with its peers, not as compared to a hypothetical production of Follies put on at a local theater in rural Kansas.

The performances were outstanding, with brilliant vocals and a stellar band that took my breath away. Not a single performer fell short, though there were no particular standouts. Every actor was perfectly cast in their role, with a great range of performances and types. This was not the source of my gripes with this production.

What stuck out to me so painfully was how unfocused the blocking was. What a weirdly specific complaint, right? But you must remember, theater is a visual medium. And as such, rules of art and design in terms of composition apply just as much to your stagecraft as they would to say, a shot in a film. You should be able to guide the audience’s eye so they’re taking in just the information you want them to, lead them through the beats of your story and its arcs and themes, without so overwhelming them with sensory input that it all becomes visual mush. This is exactly what Follies’ issue is. For the entire first 40 minutes of the show, possibly longer, there were no focal points visually whatsoever.

Now, that’s all a lot of academic bullshit. What’s the effect of this failure on the actual performance itself?

When the audience is presented with this kind of visual white noise, their eyes tend to just slide off important information. It isn’t processed neurologically in the same way, because no visual cues are telling the brain to focus more on any given thing. It becomes confusing, hard to follow, and most damningly, boring as hell. I polled my classmates, and while they overall had a nice time, they all mentioned how it took a long time to understand what was going on, they couldn’t figure out who the main characters were supposed to be, and they were bored for the first 45 minutes. This is... not good my dude.

Additionally, the use of space between characters in smaller conversations was absolutely baffling. Conversations would happen with outrageous amounts of space between the characters that completely killed all tension and stakes in their interactions.

The show has an interesting mechanic of many characters having a “shadow” self, a reflection of their younger self from the past upon which they are reminiscing. This absolutely has incredible potential for effective and interesting visual storytelling that could only be done in the medium of musical theater, using dance and tableaux to take advantage of the heightened theatricality to really illustrate the emotional stakes. However, this mechanic was so incredibly mismanaged. Half the time, the shadow selves merely stood onstage absently, doing absolutely nothing in the shadows. Their lack of motion and lighting and relationship with the scene whatsoever makes their presence actively distracting from the action. There also seemed to be no rhyme or reason as to who had shadow selves and who didn’t. All of this only contributed to the visual white noise, as there would be entire shadow dance routines happening that were completely unrelated to the “main” action that was happening, and that had not been staged in a way that set them up as mere backdrop but rather had almost equal visual weight (thank you lighting designer).

It only made it more clear how confusing the blocking was once scenes wherein the completely competent choreographer had more control over the layout of the visual space, like in the Follies at the end. The actors were moved around in ways that guided the eye, despite there being a lot happening onstage, and the visual information always contributed to the overall understanding of the arc of the scene. It was such an incredible relief. I felt woken up and refreshed, it was lovely. Those 20 or so minutes of the Love Land sequence were undoubtedly my favorite part of the show.

I also just didn’t adore the script, and thought all the ensemble characters that had full numbers could have been cut altogether, though after some research it appears that that is a vestige of the play having not aged well, as I lack the cultural connotations to get the in-jokes. Though, that raises a question of why the show keeps getting put on today that I won’t address here.

Listen, I did have fun. When the show was focused on the main plotlines of the four leads, it was generally successful, but the ensemble was distracting and killed pacing, the chaotic blocking made what could have been a visually stellar production into visual mush, and it was kind of boring. The real folly here was slouching on staging and skipping straight to spectacle.

#follies #musical theatre #national theatre #national theatre london #theater review #theatre review #directing theory

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michael-radi-the-glamorous-life · 6 years

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As We Stumble Along...

This week I had the pleasure of being part of the first NYC externship for my Alma Mater’s brand new, and now fully developed, Musical Theater Program. I had the chance to work with some lovely SUNY Geneseo Juniors and Seniors in a new musical theatre workshop - an entirely new experience for all of them - and attended the first ever Senior Showcase. The talent was wonderful, the interactions were lovely, and the entire experience got me thinking…a dangerous pastime, I know.

As a part of the workshop I had to essentially explain to the students who I am, what I do, how that’s relevant to Geneseo, and how I got to where I am. And you know what? That was much more difficult than I expected.

At this moment in my career, these are the titles that I can, and generally do, give myself:

Composer-Lyricist/Librettist (technically 3 titles?)

Performer (Musical and non-Musical Theatre)

Musical Director

Vocal Coach

Accompanist (I do this less often)

Arranger/Orchestrator (though mostly my own material these days)

One of the Geneseo students said “You do so much!” and I guess that’s true. But I think the better question is, how the heck did I learn to do all of these things?

Broadway Standard

The one area from the above list where multiple straightforward and comprehensive paths of education exist is performance.

The theatre as a whole has always recognized that performers are necessary to train in large numbers since shows and theaters exist all over the place with roles that need filling. And performing is the most visible aspect of theatre, which makes it a great entry point for those interest in the business. So plenty of paths exist for people to become performers, and I won’t bore you with the details of mine. Everyone has their own stories on this one.

The other item on the list that is fairly straightforward, though certainly less common than performance, would be accompaniment.

***Quick PSA***: Someone who accompanies is called an ac-com-pa-nist. Not an ac-com-pa-NEE-ist, or any other version. Not a crucial thing to know, but I figured I’d throw it out there :-)

Usually the story I hear from pianists is that they were, at one time in their early life, cornered by some teacher or choral director or other and told they should play piano for a choir, jazz group, or school musical. And thus was born another accompanist.

For me, it was basically the same. My piano teacher told me I should, my choral teacher lost their previous student accompanist, and thus I was tagged for the job!

Where I diverge a little is that I found out I really enjoyed playing musical theatre songs for my friends, and started wanting to be better at it. So I made a point of finding all of the musical theatre music that I could in books and scores, sitting down, and attempting to play it. This is a pastime I continue today, and it has made my skills as an accompanist must stronger - so I would recommend this to anyone looking to hone this particular skill.

Barely Knowing Left From Right

My time at SUNY Geneseo ended up being quite crucial to the accidental development of two other items on that list: musical direction and vocal coaching.

Because I was already a pianist and accompanist, something that was well known by the beginning of my Junior year, I was tapped to be the Musical Director of one of our a cappella groups (and eventually the other as well). I knew from watching previous MDs that the basics of this job was to simply teach notes, but that the good ones could do oh-so-much more. And I wanted to be a good one.

(Anyone surprised? You may have gathered from my blogs thus far that I’m a little competitive about being good at what I do… :-D )

So I went to it. I learned by watching what others did, listening to my favorite arrangements and performances, and started trying things out. It was a lot of trial by fire. But soon I figured out what worked and made the music better, and what to avoid. I had already been arranging for the two groups for over a year at this point (something that I was allowed to just try and found I could do fairly well), so I had some sense of what I was doing. So I took the knowledge I had, added it to the skills I already possessed, and created a new skill set.

Was it perfect right away? Ohhhhhh no. It took me plenty of time to figure it out. But by my Senior year I was comfortable calling myself a Musical Director of both a cappella and musical theare.

As for the vocal coaching, this came from my accompaniment skills as well.

We had a club at Geneseo called MTC (Musical Theatre Club - nailing that name, right?) for which everyone would always stress about auditions each semester. So, being one of the 3-4 pianists in the club, I was often asked by people to help them prepare for their auditions by choosing songs and creating cuts. I found that I was naturally inclined toward this work - something I’d probably not have known if I hadn’t just tried it.

Then, in my later college years, I started gaining the confidence to give some vocal notes to people. I had zero reason to think I had any authority in this matter, but from what I was seeing and hearing I thought I might be able to help.

As it turns out, I was right.

With not an ounce of training (not something I’d really recommend) other than my own vocal training, I found that I had a natural ability to help people adjust their voices. And then of course I wanted to know more, so I began doing my own research and self-education. By the time I left college, I was well on my way to being able to do this sort of work professionally. And now, since it’s how I make the majority of my living and because it’s also an ever-changing field of study, I continue to educate myself on new techniques and styles.

But I’d never have known I could even do this if it hadn’t fallen into my lap and, more importantly, if I hadn’t decided to take the risk and try.

We Pull Our Bootstraps Up

And then we come to the remainder of the list: Composer-Lyricist, Librettist, Orchestrator.

It has been said that “failure is the best teacher,” and in my personal case of these above skills, I must agree.

If I had no business being a Musical Director or Vocal Coach, I had even less business writing music or words for the theatre. I mean, what experience did I have?

None. Not a bit.

Sooooo…?

I love creating. I’ve always loved creating. I had dabbled in some music writing when I was in grade school and did some light composition as part of my Music Theory class in high school - absolutely loving it - but that was the extent of my composition experience. And never had I written a play! I wrote a 5-minute piece once at the NYSSSA Theater Program, but it was terrible and I never tried again.

Until Geneseo, that is.

Playwriting was being offered as a class in my Junior year, so I decided to take it. I had loved my Creative Writing classes in the English Department, but I really longed to write for the stage. So I took it. And I was terrible.

Oh boy, I couldn’t write a play to save my life. And I certainly did try.

I understood the mechanics and the theory and the basics of what to do, but the best thing I could come up with was a murder-thriller spoof called Clue-less, which was actually an out-of-class pet project. It was fairly funny and had some nice dramatic moments, but it still wasn’t good. After getting a solid B- on my final assignment for the class I said that was it for me and playwriting. No more. But then I thought…

What about Musical Theatre? I’m certainly more inclined to writing music than a script…

So, to try out this idea, I decided to take Oscar Hammerstein II’s advice to Stephen Sondheim and attempt the exercise of adapting a play that I admire into a musical. Not for the world to see, necessarily, but for myself and to learn.

The play I chose? A Streetcar Named Desire. I love me some Tennessee Williams, and the high theatricality of the style seemed ripe for some music additions. And best of all, I didn’t have to write the book, just adapt.

I spent 4 weeks over the summer trying my hand at finding song moments, writing in character voices, adapting dialogue into lyrics (though without much structure), and composing a world that sounded like these characters. I tried to tell their stories, moved the action forward, and give a hint of New Orleans. And you know what? It was pretty damn good for a first attempt.

I was encouraged. I decided to be bolder for the second go-round and write an original musical as my Honors Project at Geneseo. Due to some college politics, the project could only be approved if I wrote the book, music, and lyrics, as well as stage the entire thing in my second semester acting as musical director, director, and producer. Certainly a tremendous undertaking - and the point of this was to scare me off - but again I said yes. Bring it on.

Thus a musical - and mediocre one at best - called PICk Love was born. I did all that was asked of me, and an audience of ~300 people ended up seeing it over two performances at the end of my Senior year. I had even gone through the process of learning how to orchestrate in a direct study (since I wasn’t wearing enough hats already) and continued to work on the show after graduation.

Loooooong story short, I was hooked. I wanted to learn more, and correctly now. So I auditioned for the BMI Lehman Engel Musical Theater Writing Workshop. Didn’t get in fully, but only as an auditor. Said yes. Met some amazing people and some of my best friends. Re-auditioned the next year. Got in. Said yes again. Met more amazing people, including one of my current collaborators and best friends. Learned so much. Got a ton better. Wrote and re-wrote The King’s Legacy. Met more incredible people. Kept saying yes.

We Live And We Learn

Most of the things on my list are skills I received no formal education for. In fact, there aren’t a lot of ways to receive a formal education in some of them. And this thing I had no idea how to do, let alone whether or not I could actually do it, is now one of the main parts of my career. But how did I get here?

Everyone has skills, whether from natural ability or because they’ve been honed. Everyone has interests and passions, even if they’re mostly unexplored. And, if you want, these things can come come together to create new skills and pathways that you previously may not have known existed. All you need to do is try.

Try and fail. Try again. Dislike you work. Research. Watch and listen and learn. Try and fail again. Like a little of what you’ve created. Reignite your passion when necessary. Continuously hone your skills. Try again. Fail. Succeed. And most of all, just say yes.

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rndyounghowze · 4 years

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Tale of Three Photos: Our Notebooks

When you’re a writer you obsess about notebooks a bit. Go figure #blogging

By Ricky and Dana Young-Howze

Mays Landing, NJ

Venmo @rndyounghowze

When we first started writing digital theatre reviews in March the one thing that I didn't know we would need to buy stock in was notebooks and mechanical pencils. The way some people have become about car gear or camping gear we have become about composition notebooks, note-taking methods, and thought organization. We’ve tried several techniques and tools and have gone through many duds. Here are the three different kinds of notebooks that we have started using all of the time.

We call our planner ”The Bible” because it a sacred text in our house, we always do what it says, and Dana will wage a crusade against you if you mess with it. In it are our entire schedule and every review that we have coming up. Also just like the Bible, it is a living breathing document as it is written in pencil and we are always trying to stay flexible. We can add shows at any time and sometimes we think that we know what we're doing and then we have to rejigger everything. That said, Dana is the keeper of this volume, and many a time they will be sitting there for hours updating it. They will be anxious until it's organized and perfect. If we are awake and working it is always on the bed.

That stack of notebooks has notes of every show we watched last year and quick notes of every blog post we’ve done. I am always constantly looking for ways to refine the process of taking notes while we're watching reviews. The keyword is minimal. I try to make sure that the notes I take are efficient and strike directly to the heart of what I'm seeing and experiencing. Oftentimes I'm also the scribe when Dana takes the lead on a review and I have to write exactly what they are saying as they say it. We don't rewind or press pause on digital shows. We only have one time to see it before we write the review the next day. That's why we started writing in pencil. Many times we would be writing in pen and it would stop writing which would send us off on a search for a new one while the show is still going on. They are full of dog ears and folded pages. When we post a review we fold the pages over so we can easily find the unfinished blog posts or reviews while flipping through the book. Pretty soon with all of the reviews, we would often finish a notebook rather quickly. When we were finishing out a notebook I would transfer any unfinished notes to the new one. Making all these notes and lists more efficient is an ongoing journey and we hope to always be perfecting these skills.

A new advancement in our note-taking is the Legal Pad. My family gives these little pads as Christmas gifts to keep by the phone. You know those bygone eras when there were corded phones in every house? Well, we were thinking, ”what’s going to happen when we have to go to in-person performances in a year or so?” How do we refine note-taking for reviews for digital shows on the couch and in the theatre seats during intermission? That's why we’ve started writing notes on these pads. We keep ourselves confined to only one-page front and back. It forces you to be efficient, minimal, and concise. You have to think in full thoughts and know what notes are worth writing down and which aren't going to help. Most of the time I'm writing just one topic sentence and keeping track of supporting statements and facts. Other times I'm trying to write everything on the margin as small as possible because inspiration has struck and I need to get it all down. As we possibly travel for reviews in 2022 or 2023, this and a couple of pencils will be all we need to be shoved in a day bag and go with us to any city or theater we visit. When you're backpacking everything is about weight and space. These will give us plenty of space for other necessities on the train.

There aren't many places to learn blogging so a lot of things you have to experiment with and refine the process. We are going to keep learning and keep practicing. We think the number of people who love our style and share our reviews is a tribute to all of the hard work. Hopefully in the coming years as we teach our process to others we will still have a lot more to learn.

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#theatre #nj #theatrelives #blog post #blog series #tale of three photos

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michael-pemulis · 6 years

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Hi im interested in attending boston college, and im guessing you attend there? Would you mind giving tips and your stats and how you applied to the school? Thank you so much!

Long post under the cut.

Hello! I realize I’ve been a little vague about my actualschool, so sorry about that. I actually go to Northeastern University, and Iabsolutely love it. I’ll admit I don’t know too much about BC since it’s way out there at the end of the greenline, but what I have heard has all been really positive! I also find that justbeing in Boston really contributes to my college experience, since beingsurrounded by so many universities means you have lots of opportunities to goto talks, attend classes at other schools, collaborate with researchers, andreally be immersed in what you’re studying.

As far as stats/tips/app process goes, I imagine you meangrades and test scores and the like. In true studyblr fashion, I definitelyfeel a touch reluctant to post that stuff, but I’m also asking classmates allthe same questions about GREs and personal statements for grad school rightnow, so I totally know the feeling. So in the interest of transparency, here wego.

I received a 750 on both the math and reading sections ofthe SAT, and a 760 on the writing. (I took it twice since the first time I gota 730 on the math and as a physics major I didn’t want my math score to be the lowestone, but that may or may not have been worth it.) I also took the ACT withwriting, and I got a 34 on that. I can’t figure out what my writing score wasthough; I actually had to track down my high school’s college prep account toget a lot of this stuff because I couldn’t not remember.

While I always felt confident about standardized type tests,I was actually not that great of a student in high school (still working onthat), and my GPA suffered a lot at various points. To be clear, I mean thatfor a while sophomore year, I was failing my honors English class because I wasso behind on annotations. That said, I was also pretty good at damage control(I like to think I still am?) and usually pulled it together by the end of thesemester. My overall GPA for high school was 3.9, but that’s weighted with APand Honors courses; I did not actually do that well, but I can’t find anunweighted GPA. I can’t find an actual transcript, but I did track down myCollege Board account info, and my AP test scores were World History (4), EnvironmentalScience (4), Physics B (4), Microeconomics (5), English Lit. and Composition(5), Calculus AB (5), Physics C Mechanics (4), English Lang. and Composition(5), and Calculus BC (4). I also took AP Government and US History, but didn’ttake the tests. Again, disclaimer, I tend to over-preform on tests - I did notdo proportionately well in the actual classes.

I honestly didn’t have too much in the way of academic extracurriculars(it might have just been my casual mathletes membership, actually), but I wasreally involved in choir, theater, and orchestra throughout school. 7 years ofmusical theater, 11 years of choir (president senior year), several chamberchoirs and ensembles, solofests and state choirs, and 8 years of cello (I thinkI might have been first chair for a hot minute at one point?) were definitelymy “I promise I do things other than cry about math” selling points.

As far as personal statements go, I have some mixedfeelings. On one hand, I honestly I can’t believe my teachers let me think itwas a good idea to submit second person prose about toxic relationships for myCommon App essay, but on the other hand my college applications went reallywell so maybe that’s actually the secret. My method was to take personalwriting I already had and was reasonable pleased with, and then slash and burnit down to 650 words. I’m tempted to say don’t do this, since looking back Ireally don’t like what I ended up submitting, but also, see above. The mostimportant thing is to write something ASAP (maybe even write a few things andpick your favorite), and edit it for forever. Show it to your mom, show it toyour English teacher, show it to your English teacher from second grade, sendit to a stranger on the internet, and get as much feedback as you can. Editingis much more important than writing something good to begin with.

Again, transparency. I would do things differently now please I promise I know! I was is a really fortunate position to be able toapply to ten schools, partially through fee waivers and partially by virtue ofbeing relatively well-off financially. Please… don’t apply to ten schools. Imean if you want to, go for it I guess, but really, please don’t ever thinkthat’s necessary. Definitely have a safety school or two, but try not to applyplaces you really don’t have any intention of attending. I ended upinterviewing for one school, and it did not go great, so if you anticipatehaving an interview, please please please do a practice one. I was so awkward. LikeI said before, applications went really well, and of the ten schools, I wasaccepted to 8, wait-listed for 1, and rejected (I hate that term, but “notaccepted” sounds so arrogant) to 1. I’m hesitant to put a full list, but theyincluded one state college, Boston University, Northeastern, University ofRochester, and Yale. I’ll let you guess which one I got flat-out rejected fromlol.

I ended up getting similar financial aid packages for NEU,BU, and UofR, so it ended up coming down to where I wanted to go. Which bringsme back to stanning Boston, the greatest place ever to go to college in thehistory of places. Other than location, my biggest advice would be to look verycarefully at what the program you actually intend to study looks like at each school.For example, lots of schools are really excellent for certain subjects and havea very prestigious reputation, but if the course you actually want to study issmall, underfunded, or just not as good as other colleges, who cares? I know, alot of people, but try to put it aside as much as you can.

Holy heckkk this ended up so long. I’m alwayshappy to answer any other questions, and I do reveal more information to peopleoff anon so please don’t hesitate to come say hi!! I hope this kind ofaddressed what you were looking for, let me know if there’s anything I missedand best of luck with your applications!!!

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davidkaplanrussianbusinessman · 4 years

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David Kaplan successfully leads the project of the Bolshoi Theater restoration in Moscow

David Kaplan, a brilliant Russian businessman, was born in 1963 in USSR in a traditional Jewish family. After school, he attended University with a concentration in mathematics, system programmer, game theory. David Kaplan is often perceived as a Russian businessman from Moscow, it is because he lived and worked in Moscow for a long time and has implemented many successful projects on the territory of the Russian Federation. Now David Kaplan resides in his historical homeland Jerusalem. From early childhood, he asked questions, searched for answers, and generated ideas.

Besides being punctual and hard-working, the qualities that David inherited from his parents, he has a special talent for visualizing the result of the coordinated work of all parts of a single mechanism. Over time, this helped him learn how to find the most complex technical solutions for the implementation of the assigned design tasks, and not only for the sake of the result, but also for the process of finding the right solution, which gives him great pleasure.

What makes David Kaplan’s projects so successful? He personally selects the team, he scouts the best minds around the world, he puts on his shoes and helmet on and goes into the field. He is always present in person or remotely at each stage of the project, carefully checks every detail, and provides strong management. Entrepreneurs often work hard, not because they see the business as a job, but because they love doing what they do. This is where hard work meets passion and becomes such a strong force to willing an entrepreneur forward in their chosen domain

David Kaplan has always been interested in architecture, project management, and engineering, that is why when he had a chance to lead the restoration in the last stage of the Bolshoi Theatre in Moscow, he had not hesitated to dive into the the project.

For more than 200 years of its existence, the Bolshoi Theatre, like the Red Square, has become a visiting card not only of the capital of Russia but of the whole world. Getting into the main theater of the country was and remains the main dream of anyone who finds himself in Moscow: for the whole world, it is the Bolshoi Theater that personifies the great Russian musical heritage. The restoration and reconstruction of the main building of the Bolshoi Theater have become a colossal world-class project. The theater building has long been perceived as one of the symbols of Russia. The building of the Bolshoi Theater is a monument of architecture and history of the federal security category and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. This was one of the most important projects of the president of the Russian Federation Dmitry Medvedev, which construction he supervised personally. The historic building of the Bolshoi Theater has been closed for reconstruction since July 2, 2005.

In July 2009, David Kaplan entered the project for the reconstruction and restoration of the complex of buildings of the State Academic Bolshoi Theater of Russia. Russian entrepreneur from Moscow became the general contractor and achieved a significant increase in the pace of work in the shortest possible time.

The history of reconstructions and restorations of the Bolshoi Theater building began almost from the first years of its existence. By the time of the beginning of the current reconstruction, the deterioration of the building was, according to various estimates, from 50 to 70 percent. Various options were proposed for its restoration: from a trivial major overhaul to a complete reconstruction of the existing building. As a result, a project was chosen that was approved by the theater troupe, architects, cultural figures, etc. The project provided for the scientific restoration of the spectator section of the theater and a cardinal reconstruction of the stage section with deepening of the underground space. At the same time, the historical appearance of the building as an architectural monument was to be preserved.

In the early years of the project, a thorough study of the building itself took place, scanning its position in space, the state of its walls, and foundations; and only in the fall of 2009 when the Russian entrepreneur from Moscow David Kaplan took over, the huge and badly worn-out building of the Bolshoi Theater has been moved. Over the next two years, record volumes of work on the restoration and reconstruction of the theater were carried out. Every day, over a half thousand professionals worked in the building, of which about a thousand were restorers. And a thousand more specialists worked for the benefit of the Bolshoi in restoration workshops outside the theater.

In addition to restoring the historical appearance and interiors, the designers were tasked to provide the theater with new premises. It was successfully solved by creating an underground space.

Another equally important task was the need to combine strictly scientific restoration in the historical zone and the installation of the most modern technological equipment in the stage part and new spaces of the theater.

The Bolshoi Theater even in many respects restored the historical appearance that had been lost during the years of Soviet power. The auditorium and part of its suite have acquired the form in which they were conceived by the architect of the Bolshoi Theater, Albert Kavos. The halls of the former imperial foyer were restored as of 1895 when their interiors were changed in preparation for the celebrations that accompanied the coronation of Emperor Nicholas II. For each recreated or restored element of the interior, a special project was created, separate documentation was developed based on the results of numerous archival and field studies.

In 2010, the premises of the auditorium suite were restored: the Main Lobby, the White Foyer, the Choral, the Exposition, the Round, and Beethoven Halls. Muscovites saw the restored facades and the updated symbol of the Bolshoi Theater - the famous Apollo quadriga, created by the sculptor Peter Klodt.

The auditorium has regained its original beauty. And now every spectator of the Bolshoi Theater can feel like a theater-goer of the 19th century and marvel at its magnificent and at the same time "light" decoration. The bright crimson draperies of the inner rooms of the boxes strewn with gold, plaster arabesques of various kinds on each floor, the picturesque plafond "Apollo and the Muses" - all this gives the auditorium the appearance of a fairytale palace.

Particular attention has been paid to the restoration of the legendary acoustics. International experts carried out numerous acoustic studies and strictly followed the implementation of all technical recommendations. The auditorium is completely wooden that allows you to create the necessary conditions for a better perception of the sound of singing voices and musical instruments. Russian businessman from Moscow David Kaplan is well educated in musical instruments and acoustics. He knew that the exceptional sound of the legendary violins of Stradivarius and Guarneri was largely due to the special grade and composition of the wood used. Wood panels are the main component of the acoustics of the auditorium of the Bolshoi Theater. They create the effect of "room sound" due to amplification timbre of sound made from the scene with simultaneous “echo absorption”. Russian entrepreneur got busy searching for a specialist in wood, which would meet all the required physical and acoustic properties. International experts have conducted numerous acoustic studies of pine trees following the strict implementation of technical recommendations. After that, the right pine was found in the forest of Finland and David Kaplan brought it to Russia. The unique decks were completely restored as well as the auditorium, nodes of wooden pendants, ceiling lags, supporting ceiling panels and other related elements. The overwhelming success of the project and rave reviews from acoustic experts spread across the world.

The most modern solutions in the field of stage mechanization found their application in the project. The historical stage of the Bolshoi Theater consists of seven two-level lifting and lowering platforms. These platforms can easily change their position so that the stage can become horizontal, inclined, or stepped. You can combine the space of the stage and the backstage, which creates an incredible depth of stage space.

The new upper stage mechanization made it possible to fully use light, sound, and visual effects. The stage space is equipped with special modern devices for placing lighting fixtures, equipment for special effects, and acoustics.

On October 28, 2011, the opening of the country's main stage took place. The Bolshoi Theater in Moscow can welcome visitors around the world of art and culture. The Bolshoi Theater presents one of the world's main theater stages and played an outstanding role in the formation of the Russian musical stage school and the development of Russian national art, including the famous Russian ballet.

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