#I was about to say 10 minutes but then I remembered this one concerto that's 21 minutes long

[dweemeister]

Best Animated Short Film Nominees for the 93rd Academy Awards (2021, listed in order of appearance in the shorts package)

NOTE: For viewers in the United States (continental U.S., Alaska, and Hawai’i) who would like to watch the Oscar-nominated short film packages, click here. For virtual cinemas, you can purchase the packages individually or all three at once. You can find info about reopened theaters that are playing the packages in that link. Because moviegoing carries risks at this time, please remember to follow health and safety guidelines as outlined by your local, regional, and national health officials.

Continuing with one of my favorite Oscar-time traditions, here is an omnibus review of this year’s Academy Award nominees for Best Animated Short Film. This is an older category than many might believe to be, with some of the first nominees and winner including ‘30s and ‘40s fixtures: Disney’s Silly Symphonies, Warner Bros.’ Looney Tunes, MGM’s Tom and Jerry and Happy Harmonies. These days, the category tends to be more democratic (perhaps not so much this year), but certainly more experimental. Here are the nominees, as they appeared in the order of how they appeared in the short film packages released to theaters and virtual cinemas in the United States:

Burrow (2020)

Burrow, directed by Madeline Sharafian (story artist on 2017’s Coco, writer on Cartoon Network’s We Bare Bears), is the eighth in Pixar’s SparkShorts series, in which Pixar’s junior animators craft a short film on a limited budget and timeframe. This is the film that played in front of Soul for those lucky enough to view that film theatrically. This dialogue-free, hand-drawn film stars a young rabbit, looking to dig out and furnish her own home – complete with a bathroom-disco (or something like that). Her best-laid plans, however, seem dashed when she keeps digging and running into other animals’ underground abodes in this area. Not that these animals seem to mind the intrusions too much. The rabbit, so anxiety-driven in her eagerness to project a picture of self-assuredness, soon realizes that these nearby animals she fears to have disturbed are all neighbors, a community ready to lend a paw for the newcomer.

Sharafian credits her sense of impostors’ syndrome when first working at Pixar as the film’s primary thematic inspiration. With only a bare number of lines, the rabbit expresses a vast array of emotions, endearing the audience to her self-dramatization and youthful insecurity. Drawn flatly but nevertheless suggesting some depth, the cutaway animation depicting the burrow neighborhood recalls Richard Scarry’s books and other such colorful ensemble illustrations found in children’s picture books. Burrow is a worthy addition to Disney/Pixar’s animated short film legacy, despite the lack of innovation and obvious low-budget appeal (it uses the third movement of Mozart’s Oboe Concerto as its soundtrack), and seems like something that could have been made during the heyday of Silly Symphonies or Warner Bros.’ Merrie Melodies.

My rating: 7/10

Genius Loci (2020, France)

From the Latin term meaning “the spirit of a place”, Adrien Mérigeau’s Genius Loci is the most difficult, abstract film of this year’s slate of nominees. Genius Loci stars a young black woman named Reine (Nadia Moussa), a solitary soul who embarks upon, while walking the streets of Paris at night, an existential revelation. Reine, who is supposed to be babysitting her nephew that evening, decides to have a small adventure instead. She will find this experience and this Parisian neighborhood disorienting and chaotic, in many of the ways that life in a sprawling metropolis can be. The film’s sound mix clangs, whispers, vibrates, and echoes into Reine’s soul, injecting feelings of harmony, but mostly those of displacement. The distant rumbling of traffic is subliminal here, crescendoing and decrescendoing to control the film’s tension. Throughout, Mérigeau provides a fragmented narrative (do not fixate on the plot) and the protagonist’s intangible, occasionally abstruse, narration. Spiritual and existential loss colors Reine’s ambling, as well as a sense of modern France’s racial otherizing that makes the city feel unwelcoming, if not antagonistic.

Mérigeau (background cleanup on 2009’s The Secret of Kells, art director on 2014’s Song of the Sea) collaborated with Belgian comic illustrator Brecht Evens (production designer on the excellent Marona’s Fantastic Tale from 2019) for the film’s dumbfounding backgrounds, as well as storyboarding the changes in aesthetic as Reine continues her journey through Paris. Marona’s influence is felt keenly throughout Genius Loci – from the lack of recognizably human figures among strangers to Reine and the ever-changing color scheme. Unlike Marona, Genius Loci commits to watercolors (or computerized animation meant to resemble watercolor paints) during the film’s entirety. The watercolor animation serves to loosen the character animation and the backgrounds’ definition, and serves as a paragon of expressionist animation. Genius Loci will bewilder audiences, challenging them to understand Reine’s painful attempt to find belonging and solace in a place that disallows such reflection.

My rating: 8.5/10

Opera (2020, South Korea)

Opera, directed by Erick Oh (an animator at Berkeley-based Tonko House, which crafted the 2014 nominee The Dam Keeper), is an independent South Korean/American production that owes more to Sandro Botticelli and Hieronymus Bosch than anything ever seen in animated cinema. This is a cinematic fresco teeming with activity, intended more as interactive art than for a movie theater. The setting is a pyramid filled with souls living, laboring, luxuriating, dying. As the camera pans downward from the godlike or prophet-like figures occupying the top, it later zooms outward, all timed alongside a day-night cycle. Opera’s story is that of human history, distilled in eight minutes of repetitive activity. The design of Oh’s film is as a museum installation – projected on a wall or the ground (the only instance Opera has been screened as such was at the Ars Electronica Animation Festival in Linz, Austria) – that loops continuously, and, if one looks closely enough at the pyramid’s sections, there are loops within the film’s loops. If viewed in a museum, Opera does not pan selectively as it does if projected in a theater or a home media screen.

Pieced together in between Oh’s other film projects over four years and a pandemic, Oh and his animators (some of whom participated voluntarily, without pay) concentrated on different sections of the pyramid at a time, synchronizing the action in a specific section to match the surrounding areas – and, ultimately, the film as a whole. Opera contains intricacies impossible to realize on first, second, third viewings. Even in its limited, virtual cinema form, it engulfs the viewer in its hierarchical animation, the intentionally simplistic character animation serving to universalize the drama of its beings’ existence. It is rapturous art, the sort that defies description, and undoubtedly will echo across Oh’s subsequent films.

My rating: 8.5/10

If Anything Happens I Love You (2020)

For some American viewers, I imagine that this title alone has already spoiled the film’s content even without seeing any footage. A Netflix production directed by Will McCormack (co-writer on 2019’s Toy Story 4) and Michael Govier (bit roles in American television), If Anything Happens I Love You is the only nominee in this category directed by individuals with no background in directing animation. McCormack and Govier met at acting school; acting remains their primary profession. Without dialogue, the film opens with two parents eating dinner at opposite ends of the table. They seem aloof, their minds elsewhere. The background is spare, with only a jumble of pencil sketches making sense of any barriers enclosing them. Flexible, animated silhouettes appear from their bodies – sometimes arguing vigorously with each other, at times shadowing the person and attempting to call their attention. Grief overhangs their household, expressed through a largely monotone palette, minimalistic designs and backgrounds. The background artists exclude any detail unnecessary to the story.

Written and crafted in collaboration with (so as to not spoil the film, I am about to opaquely write about this film’s intentions) a prominent, deep-pocketed political non-profit so as to shear the film of any thematic excess, If Anything Happens I Love You has, unlike its fellow nominees, broad support among certain prominent actors in Hollywood. Laura Dern is the executive producer and various actors – including Chelsea Handler, Rashida Jones, and Lesley Ann Warren, among others – have openly contributed or advocated for this movie. The visualization of the parents’ pain, even without dialogue, brings the viewer into a space unfathomable to most, unbearable for those who know too well. The use of the King Princess song “1950” meshes awkwardly with what is being portrayed on-screen at the time. But the character animation – McCormack and Govier’s experience as actors endows the couple with indelible humanity – and its visual discipline carry the film to its heartbreaking conclusion.

My rating: 8/10

Yes-People (2020, Iceland)

Icelandic film Já-Fólkið (Yes-People) is the epitome of cheap European computer-generated animation. Directed by Gísli Darri Halldórsson (a former Cartoon Network Studios character animator), Yes-People – the Best Icelandic Short winner at the 2020 Reykjavik International Film Festival and the Children’s Choice Award winner at 2020’s Nordisk Panorama – is a largely aimless movie following the zany lives of the people who live in an apartment complex. That is all I have to say about the film’s narrative. The sketches it draws in each character’s life always feel disjointed and disconnected from all the others – save one scene of the elderly couple fornicating loud enough for their downstairs neighbors to hear. Halldórsson describes his film as a mosaic of personalities, but even a mosaic has a thematic consistency that unifies its disparate parts.

The desaturated colors of Yes-People are meant to resemble old photographs. As much as I respect what Halldórsson is aiming for, the results make the film look muddy, half-rendered – like a knockoff Pixar short from the early 1990s. Inspired when Halldórsson described to some of his Irish friends about the different tonal meanings of the word “Já” (“hello” in Icelandic), Yes-People only has one repeated word of dialogue throughout: “Já”. Is this supposed to be funny? Philosophical? I am not sure; and I am not sure the film knows it either. Reading some of Halldórsson’s interviews following his Academy Award nomination, he mentions that the film’s positive response from Iceland and Scandinavia might be culturally specific, as opposed to other parts of the world. As to what those cultural differences might be that prevented me from liking this film, I hardly have a clue.

My rating: 6/10

^ All ratings based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

Three other films played in this package as honorable mentions: Kapaemahu (2020; 7.5/10), The Snail and the Whale (2019; 6.5/10), and To: Gerard (2020; 6.5/10).

From previous years: 85th Academy Awards (2013), 87th (2015), 88th (2016), 89th (2017), 90th (2018), 91st (2019), 92nd (2020).

[allondonboy]

Medicine for the Soul (Ch 10)

Chapter 10 - Andante: dolce e più piano  (Ch 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9)

SO it's been a hot minute huh

thanks for all your support, especially those of you who've been following for a while. i'd love to hear what you think about this chapter.

thanks as always to anna @thisiismetrying for everything, including proofing

i think there are two more after this, and i'll do my best to not a) take fourteen / 14 months for the next update or b) kill the usb my master doc is on without an up-to-date backup oops

---

The side effect of becoming better friends with Vasquez is that they become even less concerned about calling Alex out during rehearsals than they had been before.

Unfortunately, they deserve it. Movements one and two of the concerto, they admit they’ve got down, but the third? That’s new in every kind of way. They’d never had time to work on it with their teacher. Jeremiah had never heard them massacre it. Moving on to arguably the happiest movement feels a lot like moving on from Jeremiah and they can almost feel the emotion-proof walls go up around their heart again.

As their rehearsal draws to a close, Alex takes a long drink of water and wipes their forehead with the back of their hand. Vasquez nods, satisfied, and closes the music.

“You definitely stand a good chance, Danvers,” they say. “If you nail the third movement, you’re almost certain to win.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Alex runs through what they just played and sure, there are a couple of bits that need work but nothing they can identify as truly problematic.

“It’s flat.”

Alex’s frown deepens and they swing their violin back up and start retuning. Vasquez sighs.

“Not that kind of flat. Add some bounce.”

“Some bounce,” Alex repeats slowly.

“Molto vivace, Danvers. Lively.”

“It is lively.”

“Look.” Vasquez shuts the piano and turns to face them. “The first two sound like you want us to know why you’re playing. The third is just notes. Boring, regular, notes. You need to bounce.”

“I don’t bounce,” Alex tries to reiterate, but Vasquez is standing and handing them the music and it comes out almost as a question.

“My advice? Learn to.”

“You’ll be playing to an audience. Take that tree.” She points to the tree outside the window. The branches are bare, covered in a light frost, and it looks almost sad by the road. “Play to it.”

“You want me to play to a tree.”

“Yes.” Their teacher meets their stubborn gaze with her own. “What, are you scared it’s going to judge you?”

Alex fights back a sneer at the thought of a tree scaring them and gets into position. “Pfft. Not at all.”

Okay, it’s harder than they thought to play to an inanimate object. They can feel their teacher’s eyes on them and flick a glare subconsciously towards her. She catches it and turns away. Alex’s shoulders still have pressure on them and they press them back until they’ve waited too long for this to be a normal getting-in-the-zone pause and they raise their bow.

“Hello, tree,” they mutter under their breath, and then they begin.

It’s weird, playing to a lump of wood. Their fingers find the familiar notes and patterns and their body starts to sway with the melody, rising and falling with the dynamics and drawing the story out of their body – not that they know what the story is, but the wind against the tree outside is oddly captivating and they find themselves trying to talk to the tree through the music as they go.

The last note pings through the room into nothingness. Their teacher claps slowly.

“Brava,” she says. Alex is disconnected from the world. They’re foggy – like they’re in the room but not properly. “That’s what you need to do every time.”

Well yeah, that would be easy if they knew what they’d done.

There’s a knock on the door and Alex swallows a groan to open it. Maggie is there, flannel pushed up to her elbows, nose red with cold even in the early summer warmth. She gives a cautious smile and Alex opens the door wider.

“Maggie, hey, come in,” they say. “Ignore the pyjamas.”

“I have seen them before, Danvers, and they’re still cute.” Maggie hesitates in the doorway and takes a deep breath. “Is now a good time to cash in that rain check on seeing the stars?”

Alex searches Maggie’s face for a second then responds with a quiet “sure.”

Maggie nods, once, and Alex gestures to their pants. “I’ll just change.”

“Don’t want to show the world your exquisite taste in sleepwear?” Lucy’s voice comes from behind her wardrobe door. “Hey, Sawyer.”

Maggie takes another step into the room and shuts the door. “The world can’t handle their sleepwear, Lane.”

“Is that why I found it on the floor the last time you stayed over?”

“What can I say, Alex makes anything and nothing look good.”

“Oh, Sawyer.”

At the note of glee in Lucy’s voice, Alex, blushing red to the tips of their ears, flips her off and shoves their feet into their nearest pair of boots. “Not every part of my life is for your enjoyment, Lucy.”

“Wrong,” sings Lucy with a wink at Maggie. Maggie laughs and Alex shrugs on their jacket.

“I hate you,” they inform Lucy, who beams at them.

“Wrong again,” she says, “you love me.”

“Sure, sure,” says Alex. They pick up Lucy by the waist and shuffle to the right, placing her by her bed and moving her out of the way of the drawer they open to retrieve a small flashlight. They nod at Maggie, hand hovering over the door handle, and stuff their keys into their pocket along with their phone and the flashlight. “Let’s go.”

Lucy tugs her shirt straight and follows Alex to the door as they leave. “Stay safe, kids. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“We won’t do anything you would do, either,” Maggie calls over her shoulder to Alex’s chortle.

--

They walk in silence, the crunch of their boots and the whistle of their breath the only sound in the night air. Occasionally, there’s the hint of hesitation from beside them that can only be Maggie trying to work out what to say. They don’t want to rush her however much they ache to know why so much anxiety is radiating off her.

Maggie’s hands shake as she pulls out another packets of mints.

“You get the best view from down here,” says Alex, sinking to the floor and laying down, arms folded across their torso. Maggie spends a moment looking down at them, face barely illuminated by the little moonlight, before joining them, a couple of inches apart, soft grass cushioning them both.

“I only know a few constellations,” says Maggie eventually. Alex can’t tell if that’s an invitation to expand, so they don’t.

“My grandfather died.”

Maggie’s voice cuts through the air and Alex simultaneously feels the familiar burn of grief and an unexpected shiver at Maggie’s blank voice.

“I’m sorry,” they say.

“It’s, whatever,” she says, shrugging, and Alex turns onto their side.

“It’s not whatever,” they say emphatically. Maggie doesn’t reply and Alex rolls back onto their back.

Maggie sighs. “I heard it from my cousin. I’ve not been invited to the funeral.”

“What?” Alex sits up. “You – why not?”

“When I told you that my parents were supportive of my coming out, I lied. When they found out I was a lesbian, my dad kicked me out and I had to live with an aunt for three years.”

“Maggie…”

Maggie holds up a hand. “It’s whatever, Danvers.”

“It’s not whatever,” says Alex again, “and we are going to talk about it, but not now. We don’t need to discuss that now. Okay?”

Maggie shrugs again. She plucks a handful of grass out of the ground and shreds it so it falls on her.

“My uncle’s kids and my aunt are the only family who still talk to me, and that’s how I found out, because they wanted to know if I needed somewhere to stay.”

“That’s… I’m sorry.” Alex winces at how lame it sounds.

“Tell me about them,” they say quietly once seconds of silence have stretched into minutes, and Maggie’s breath catches. “If you want to.”

“I…” Maggie takes a deep breath and Alex waits, but she doesn’t speak.

“There’s no pressure,” Alex reassures her gently. They deliberately place their hand between them and after a moment’s pause Maggie laces her fingers with theirs.

“Vovô taught me to play.” Maggie’s fingers tap absentmindedly on Alex’s. “I’d sit on his knee and he’d cover my hands with his and play. I have no idea how he managed to play with me in the way.”

The tapping ceases.

“He gave me my cavaquinho.” The choking of her voice makes her tongue stumble on the Portuguese word. “He taught me samba.”

Alex squeezes her fingers gently.

“He tried to teach my cousins, but the only one who had the patience was José and he preferred cooking, so Vovô and I would play for him and my grandmother while they cooked. It was our thing. It’s the only thing about my family I can remember being proud of.”

Alex watches her brow furrow and resists the urge to soothe it with their hand.

Maggie swallows, hard. “I don’t know what my parents told him about me. It wouldn’t surprise me if he died thinking I was an abomination. I don’t even know if he’d want me at the funeral.”

Unbidden, Alex’s mind jumps to the days surrounding Jeremiah’s funeral – the funeral itself hidden inside a bottle – and their heart burns in sympathy.

Their instinctive reaction is to reassure Maggie that he would want her there – but even as the thought flits through their mind they realise that they’d have hated that, the automatic platitude in the midst of an unnecessarily complicated situation.

Regardless, some of her living family do not want her there, and Alex knows the rekindled burn of familial distance and disgust all too well to suggest Maggie even contemplate putting herself in that position.

“I don’t know either,” Alex says, “but I know that you have an aunt that loves you enough to take you in, and cousins who love you enough to offer you somewhere to stay. And you’ve got me.” They give a crooked smile and catch Maggie’s tear-filled eyes. She gives a watery smile back. “You’ve got me and Lucy and Kara. We’re your family now.”

Alex knows they’ve said the right thing when the grip on their hand gets tighter and tighter and Maggie slowly curls into their chest and they hold her as she grieves not just the man who meant so much to her, but the love she lost with him.

---

Alex doesn’t know how to bring up the fact that Maggie lied to them. They can see she doesn’t either, with the way she worries her lip and her shoulders hunch whenever Alex reaches out to her.

It’s not until one afternoon when they open the door to head out to do the groceries and find Maggie with her hand raised to knock that they finally talk.

Maggie slips into their room silently. Alex closes the door and joins her on the bed, sitting cross-legged beside her but half an arm’s distance away.

“I wanted to tell you.” Maggie’s voice is gravelly, as though she hasn’t spoken in days.

“Then why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know, okay? Maybe I didn’t want to scare you. I wanted it to be better for you. I wanted to give you hope that your mom might come around.”

“Maggie - ”

“You never see the happy endings for people like us. They never give us a story where the lesbians live happily ever after with the slow dancing and the dogs and the arguments over how to load the dishwasher. And I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like for non-binary people.”

“It’s not a competition. No type of discrimination or oppression or whatever the fuck word you want to use trumps another.” Alex swivels so they’re completely facing Maggie, though she doesn’t move and continues staring at the carpet. “One person’s rough time doesn’t cancel out someone else’s.” 

Maggie shrugs.

“No, Maggie. You are your own person, first and foremost, with your own past and your own list of likes and dislikes and shoving that down for someone else’s sake? Not going to wash with me, especially if you’re so insistent that I work on that too.”

Maggie shrugs again and still doesn’t move to face Alex. “You don’t deserve to have to deal with my troubles on top of yours,” she says bluntly and Alex works their jaw.

“My choice, right?” they say, and then: “Tell me about it?” in the same gentle tone in which they’d asked her to tell me about them? up on the hill.

Maggie stays where she is, elbows on her knees, hair falling over her face as the last barrier between Alex and the onslaught of emotions fighting its way out of her. Her fingers dig into the pads of her thumbs as her hands settle into clenched fists. Alex takes one of them and rubs the tension out of it and with it, a trembling breath leaves Maggie.

“I had this friend when I was fourteen - Eliza Wilkie. We'd hang out in her parents' basement, watching horror flicks, and smoking cigarettes. She was the first girl that I knew that I liked in a way that was different. And I thought that she liked me, too. And so, on Valentine's Day, I put a card in her locker declaring my feelings and asking her to the dance. Well, she gave that card to her parents, and then they called my parents, and that's how I was outed.”

Alex can almost feel the puzzle pieces fall into place in their mind. “And that’s why you don’t like Valentine’s Day.”

“Yeah. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m not going to force you to celebrate something that brings up bad memories for you.”

Maggie shifts uncomfortably. “You wanted to celebrate and I stopped you. I want to make you happy.”

“I don’t want you to change who you are to accommodate me.” Alex’s words are hard and their eyes fierce. Maggie’s head snaps up to look at them for the first time since she arrived, so startled at the conviction in their voice. “You’ve had enough people demanding that of you, people who should be uplifting and supporting you. I’m not one of them, Maggie. You don’t have to be guarded with me, okay?”

Maggie breathes out, and then Alex is gathering her in their arms, cradling her head against their shoulder like she’s done with them so many times.

“I am here to help you heal,” they say softly. “On your own terms, as your own person.”

---

In the end, Maggie decides not to go to the funeral, but it doesn’t mean they haven’t talked about it together at length and it doesn’t mean there isn’t a small part of her that thinks she should be there.

More than once, Alex reminds her that they have the ability to buy her a last-minute ticket if she needs it. More than once, Maggie shakes her head and says that midterms have to be her priority.

Moving on, she calls it.

Alex privately calls it avoidance but isn’t going to argue when having her close means that they can look after her.

The closer it gets, the less Maggie talks about it, and the more Alex starts to dominate conversation again.

They can’t help it: the conversation swings around to them every time and the rambling begins again and their last paper went exceptionally badly, and they’re toying with their Stanford hoodie with not an unsubstantial amount of hatred flaring up at the pressure Eliza puts on them to study in a top programme in a top school, until they have to say something because the silence is getting to them and they can feel their head about to explode.

“For fuck’s sake!”

The sudden exclamation from Maggie jolts them and it becomes clear that she’s at the same stage. She presses the heels of her hands into her eyes and Alex leans over to rub her shoulder.

“It’s a bit of a double-edged sword, isn’t it?” Alex says. “The prestige of being here but then the pressure to live up to it all.”

Maggie still doesn’t speak but reaches up to hold Alex’s hand on her shoulder. Alex starts playing with her fingers.

“But, as so many people have been saying to me for years, if you don’t get the grades you want, you just pick yourself up and try - ”

“I’m on scholarship, Danvers.” It’s almost a laugh. Alex slams their mouth shut as they let the pieces fall into place.

“Oh.”

“I don’t get a second chance. I screw up and I give them an excuse to throw me out, and it’s back to waitressing for racist, sexist pigs, or – or busking on the streets, barely making ends meet. Not that I’m doing much better here.”

“Oh,” Alex says again, because that’s all they can think. Maggie gets off the bed and dusts herself off, heading for her desk again and looking for all the world like she’s about to cry.

“So, thanks for the pep talk, Danvers, but I really need to – oomph.”

Alex is behind her as her voice starts to crack and wraps their arms around her, drawing her head into their chest and cradling her pounding heart against their own as Maggie lets the exhaustion seep into their shirt.

“Working yourself to exhaustion isn’t going to help you in the long run,” Alex says into a mouthful of hair, suddenly discovering all the things buried in their brain that people have told them over the years to the same effect, and rubs Maggie’s back. “Seriously, it’s a crap place to be. Have at least a power nap, and then if you really want to, you can go back to work, yeah?”

Maggie nods into their chest.

“Want me to leave you to it?” Alex tries to pull back to look into Maggie’s face but she clings on and shakes her head. “Okay.”

They carefully spin them round so they can help Maggie slide under the blanket on her bed. They make sure she’s comfortable and press a quick kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll be back in a minute – binder,” they say softly, and Maggie hums, eyes already closing as she sinks further into the mattress. Alex comes back to her tiny snuffles, forehead finally free of frown lines, and quickly untangles Maggie’s legs from the blanket before sliding in next to her. They fire a quick text off to Lucy to let her know of their whereabouts, and within seconds, the reassuring weight of their girlfriend’s body in their arms is enough to send them off to sleep too.

---

Alex knows that midterms and finals turn them into some sort of monster. According to Lucy, however, Maggie somewhat dampens the effects due to the simple fact that they both spend equal amounts of time switching between comforting the other and panicking themselves.

By the time midterms are done, the competition is near and Alex realises they haven’t told Maggie. How do you casually bring up that you’re playing in a college-wide music competition when your girlfriend is going through a not-so-small crisis? They’re acutely aware that tact is something they’ve been lacking for a while, and in an attempt to focus more on Maggie, they decide to keep quiet on it for the time being.

What they don’t admit to themselves is that there’s a not insignificant part of them that worries she’ll think it’s stupid.

Keeping it quiet ends up being the worst thing they could do. Maggie gets increasingly tense every time Alex gives a new excuse for why they can’t hang out with her, and a rift between them starts to make itself known. That it comes after Alex called Maggie out for lying to them doesn’t help, and they catch themselves with it on the tip of their tongue multiple times before they finally take the plunge of letting it spill out, one afternoon when Maggie asks if they want to properly go out for dinner one weekend.

“Oh, I can’t on Saturday,” realises Alex, and it hits them that this is as good a time as any to tell Maggie. “I have an audition.”

“Oh?”

“The, uh, concerto competition?”

“Yeah?” Maggie’s quirked smile becomes a bigger grin. “That’s awesome!”

Alex’s breath escapes them in a relieved whoosh of air. “Yeah?”

“What did you think I’d think?” says Maggie with an air of mild bewilderment. Alex gives a one-armed shrug. Maggie leans up to kiss them and their cheeks warm.

“You want to come with?” they ask hesitantly. “Then I could still see you, even if we can’t go out.”

The hand Maggie reaches out to grasp Alex’s forearm with is gentle in contrast to how much she lights up, and she runs her thumb over the crease in their elbow. “I’d love to, Danvers. Thank you.”

---

Vasquez stands and stretches.

“Ready, Danvers?”

Alex stares at the door and wipes their free, sweaty palm down the front of their pants.

“No.”

They spin abruptly and come face-to-top-of-head with their girlfriend.

“Yes.”

“No,” says Alex again.

Maggie cups their cheek with her hand. They close their eyes. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Maggie,” they whisper.

Neither of them see Lucy stride up behind Alex and smack them upside the head, sending their forehead into Maggie’s with a resounding thwack.

“Sorry, Sawyer. Danvers, don’t talk trash. Get that handsome head in the game right now and go dazzle some musicians.”

Before Alex can register what Lucy just said, she’s opening the door with one hand and shoving them through it with the other, gesturing Vasquez through and waving at Alex, who’s doing an excellent impression of a deer caught in the headlights as the door closes on them.

[a-damson-in-distress]

The Protégé 5

Pairing: MadaSaku

Plot: In search of a new cellist for his prestigious orchestra, an infamously feared maestro stumbles upon a young rising star.

The Protégé 1 | The Protégé 2 |  The Protégé 3 |  The Protégé 4

Note: I don't even know what to say at this point, I mean I'm such an unreliable fanfic writer that you guys have probably forgotten this here thing even exists but ANYWHORE the saga continues. As with every chapter so far, here's the song recommendation for the Beijing concert, the one with the jazz theme and Mei's vocals: Hooverphonic - 2 Wicky (Live at Koningin Elisabethzaal 2012) as well as Hooverphonic - Mad About You (also the live version). 

I suggest you listen to the entire concert and all the songs, because the band is just great, though not all of their songs have that slow, seductive James-Bond-like sound I was imagining for that particular concert. Some of them are more happy-go-lucky pop songs, so Madara wouldn't have picked them for the concert. But just imagine that the entire programme would have consisted of songs like 2 Wicky and Mad About You. I chose the songs based on the singer mentioned in this chapter, because I think that's the type of music that would best fit an alluring and seductive woman like Mei Terumi.

Anyway, have fun reading and please let me know what you think! I'm dying to get some feedback, because things are finally kicking off in this chapter and it was so much fun to write and I'm really looking forward to your opinion.

                                                        ---------- 

Sakura Haruno stunned Tokyo with her first solo performance in Maestro Uchiha’s ensemble with the grace and elegance of a musician far more experienced than what can usually be expected of a twenty-year old. Demonstrating her mastery of the cello with Camille Saint-Saëns’ Cello Concerto number 1 in A minor, the young Ms Haruno proved once again that she was worthy of her nickname. Imperatrix Furiosa is what the press are calling her, though the talented cellist seems to be only channelling that alter ego on stage. At the afterparty, Ms Haruno was less a furious empress and more a down-to-earth, if not timid, girl-next-door type, prompting criticism by some that Maestro Uchiha signed her on at too young an age and that the shy cellist may have bitten off more than she can chew with her world-famous globetrotting new conductor (Madara Uchiha pictured here with Sakura Haruno during the afterparty at the Sky Lounge Stellar Garden Bar).

Sakura’s eyes travelled from the article to the photo right next to it, depicting her maestro and herself. While Mr Uchiha was his usual suave self in a black-lined burgundy-coloured velvet suit jacket and his signature barely-there-but-still-somehow-visible smirk, Sakura stuck out like a sore thumb. Not only because of her hair colour and her height – she was sure Mr Uchiha would dwarf her even if she wore Ino’s tallest high heels. It was this whole timid and immature little girl vibe she was giving off with her floral collar dress, her pastel pink ballet flats and her shy and unsure smile.

Having read the review of their Tokyo concert, Sakura was now worried whether or not the critics were right. Was she really too young to join such a prestigious orchestra? Was she too immature and inexperienced to have so much pressure and responsibility thrust upon her as a principal cellist? Despite feeling comfortable and self-assured during a concert, there were moments where she did feel somewhat out of place amidst her older and more experienced colleagues. Like during that afterparty two days ago, where everyone showed up all dressed up and fancy and confidently rubbing elbows with Tokyo’s music high society, while Sakura felt like a farm girl who wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference between a Virgin Mary and a Bloody Mary if it bit her in the ass.

Gnawing on her bottom lip, the young cellist let her gaze wander through the airplane interior. They were currently on a flight to Seoul for their first international concert. Her worried gaze landed on her conductor sitting two rows in front of her to her right, currently busy with adding notes to the sheet music on his tablet.

How she wished she could confide in him now.

Sakura recalled the feeling of euphoria when he had called her his protégé in the dressing room while fixing her bow tie. She never felt so incredibly confident while playing a concert on stage as she did during those 30 minutes following his compliment. Sakura almost couldn’t believe that her maestro had said that to her in the first place, so she decided to ask him about it during the afterparty.

Sakura remembered how nervous she had been the entire evening. The pink-haired cellist thought about a hundred different ways how she could ask Mr Uchiha about his declaration without coming off as the attention-seeking and completely love-sick puppy that she really was. It took her more than an hour to build up the courage to approach him when he was alone at the bar.

“Um… I-I’m sorry, Mr Uchiha? Do you have a second?”

When her conductor turned around, he actually had to look down to meet her gaze. Her maestro really was ridiculously tall. He turned his body to face her, left hand casually in his pocket, right arm leaning on the bar with a drink in hand.

“Yes, Ms Haruno?”

“Um…,” she ran both hands down her dress to smooth out the non-existent wrinkles, “I-I wanted to ask you… something.”

When she dared to lift her gaze to look at him, she was met with a raised eyebrow and an expectant grin.

“Go on, Ms Haruno. I’m not going to bite,” her maestro added with a widening smirk.

Hoping the blush colouring her cheeks at his remark would cool down soon, the pink-haired cellist gathered her courage, cleared her throat and spoke, “Sir, it’s about what you said to me in the dressing room, when you- when you fixed my bow tie? Um, you see I was really nervous, and I wasn’t really thinking straight, I mean I’m never really thinking straight around you,” heat crept up her face again and her eyes widened as she realised what she had just said, “I mean- I didn’t mean… it’s just, you make me… a little nervous, is all. And anyway, I probably wasn’t even hearing right, but for some reason my muddled brain seems to think that I heard you say… that…,” at this point her courage started fading away. Sakura started playing with the hem of her dress while thinking of a way to continue without sounding desperate for his approval.

“Heard me say what, Ms Haruno?”

Her eyes snapped up to meet his intense gaze staring at her expectantly.

“I think I heard you say that- that I was your…,” she leaned a bit closer to him and whispered, “protégé.”

And now that the word was finally out in the open, Sakura couldn’t stop herself.

“And I just wanted to ask you if that really was what you said. Because even though every fibre of my being wants it to be true, there’s still a part of me who just wouldn’t believe that you- the Maestro Uchiha would have said that to me of all people. I mean you’ve never publicly acknowledged anyone as your protégé before, and I- I’m so young. You see, I just didn’t want to get my hopes up in case it was just a misunderstanding and I didn’t hear it right. So please just be honest with me. You can tell me if I was wrong, it’ll crush me for a day or two, but I can take it.”

She stared up at him with a look of what she hoped would even remotely resemble determination, though that look started to falter when she was met with her conductor’s amused grin.

“I heard wrong, didn’t I? Ok, well… Sorry for wasting your time, Sir.”

Sakura was just about to turn around, when she felt his warm hands circle around her biceps, holding her in place. She saw his mouth open to say something just as they were interrupted by a photographer asking for a picture of the two of them. After posing for a few seconds and waiting for the photographer to leave, her maestro turned around and finally spoke, “Ms Haruno, that day you were in my office, what did I tell you about the difference between you and all my other musicians?”

“That I was the only one who didn’t have to audition?”

“Correct. I didn’t want the other musicians, I simply needed them to fill my ensemble. But you – you, I wanted. There were hundreds of suitable musicians for every other role in my orchestra, and they all had to audition, but there was only one suitable musician for your particular position. You, Ms Haruno, were the exception from the start.”

“So… does that mean that you really did say what I think you said?”

“Would you like it to be true?”

“More than anything in the world.”

“Good,” Mr Uchiha said before taking a sip of his drink.

And then he said something that made Sakura’s insides tingle with excitement even two days later.

In that case, you’re mine now.

                                  ��                        ----------

“We’re done for today. You’ve all got the rest of the evening off. Do not overdo it, though, I expect all of you to be in top shape for our next rehearsal tomorrow at 10 a.m.”

Madara watched his musicians hastily pack their things and stow away their instruments. He was aware that they were eager to get back to the hotel and relax for a few hours; after all, they landed in Seoul only this morning and already had to endure a four-hour rehearsal. They deserved a break.

Madara, however, wasn’t done yet. And neither was his protégé.

“Ms Haruno.”

He would never tire of the way she immediately sprung to attention whenever he called her name and how she would fix her huge doe-like eyes on him, like a puppy in training expectantly waiting for its master’s orders and determined to use every opportunity to impress him.

“Yes, Maestro?”

“I hope you haven’t got any plans for this evening.”

Madara didn’t want it to come out so suggestive but seeing that adorable blush spread across the young cellist’s cheeks was worth it.

“Um… No, Sir, I- I don’t, actually. W-Why are you asking?”

“I want you to go through your parts again, on your own.”

“Why, Sir? Was I not good enough? I’ll do better, I promise,” she said with a pleading look on her face.

Her dedication to her craft was inspiring. And her constant need to please him was an incredible turn-on.

“Let’s start with Bergersen’s Sun,” Madara ordered while watching the last of his ensemble leave the stage. When he heard a nervous sigh escape her lips, his gaze was immediately drawn back to her teeth chewing on her bottom lip. Madara allowed himself to be transfixed by the sight for a few seconds, fully aware that this indulgence would just lead to more wet dreams. Like the one he had last night about her kneeling in front of him and nervously chewing on her bottom lip as he gives her a step-by-step instruction on how to suck his cock.

“Am I doing it right?” she asks after having released him from her mouth with a loud plop. She stares up at him with her big, innocent eyes, desperately needing his approval and his praise.

“Just like that, keep going little one,” he orders while tugging a strand of hair behind her ear and watching her lips close around him again.

“That’s a good girl.”

Madara was torn from his short daydream when he realised the young cellist had stopped playing. His gaze focused on Sakura’s face and he felt his cock immediately stiffen when he saw the expression she was wearing. It was the same as in his dream, right when she asked him if she was doing it right – all innocent and hopeful eyes, silently begging him to praise her.

“Am I doing it right, Maestro?”

Gods damn it, of course she had to go ahead and say the same words, too.

Despite the inappropriate nature of his current train of thought, the reminder of his last wet dream gave the conductor an idea. The Sakura in his dreams would always light up like a Christmas tree and her eyes would sparkle with adoration whenever Madara called her a good girl. And now it was time for the conductor to test how close real-life Sakura was to her dream persona.

He came to a halt directly in front of her and looked into her wide, expectant eyes.

“Good girl.”

The megawatt smile she gave him as a response was enough to prove his theory. Madara would be damned if he didn’t use every opportunity to praise her like that from now on. Much like she seemed to crave his approval and appreciation, Madara, too, found himself enjoying the looks of pure and unadulterated worship and reverence he was met with whenever he deemed her worthy of his attention.

“That was well done, Ms Haruno. Now why couldn’t you deliver the same performance during rehearsal? I had the feeling you were distracted by something.”

He watched her shoulders slump and her face fall as she leaned back into her seat. “I know, Sir. But it’s nothing, really, just… just something silly. I won’t happen again, I promise.”

Madara would murder that something silly if the mere mention of it was enough to dim her smile.

“What’s going on?”

“You don’t need to worry about it, really. I’m sure you have much more important things to do than listen to me whine about my trivial issues.” Sakura tried her best to give him a reassuring smile but judging by the way she was nervously playing with the strings of her cello, that particular issue seemed to really eat away at her.

“Ms Haruno, part of being your mentor also involves making sure you feel confident and good about yourself on a personal level as well, not just on a professional one. If something is bothering you and you don’t deal with it properly, it might turn into a bigger issue someday, which could in turn affect your performance. Now, out with it.”

Sakura looked at him hesitantly, before sighing and opening her mouth, “It’s this review of our first concert that was published in The Japan Times. They said you made a mistake with me, that you signed me on too early and that I’m too young for you and too inexperienced and too shy and that I’m basically just not good enough for you.”

Madara had read the article himself, and he had already thought that his protégé would be bothered by the criticism. He grabbed one of the many chairs on stage and took a seat right in front of his principal cellist. “Is that why you’ve been distracted today? You think you’re not good enough?”

“It’s not just that. Or actually it’s not that at all, because I know I’m a damn good cellist, and I don’t think I’m lacking anything in the talent department. What bothered me most is that they kept mentioning my age and how young and inexperienced I am. They made me look like some naïve little farm girl who doesn’t know what she’s doing with all those big shot musicians who are just going to eat her up and spit her out.”

“Ms Haruno, I’ve been in this business for two decades now, and I was responsible for enough auditions to be able to tell which musician has got what it takes. Trust me when I tell you I would not have picked you if I didn’t have absolute faith in your ability to keep up with the rest of my orchestra. In fact, part of the reason I chose you was precisely because you were so young, so don’t ever let anybody make you feel like that is a disadvantage, because it’s not.”

Madara could see that his words had a calming effect on her. His reassurance resulted in a timid smile tugging at her lips as she tentatively asked, “Do you really mean that? That you picked me because I’m so young? Because you’ve never worked with anyone my age before. You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?”

“The last thing anybody would accuse me of is sugarcoating my opinion and buttering someone up. Trust me, I never lie to my musicians, least of all to my protégé.”

“But why? Why was my age so decisive when you thought about signing me on?”

Well, I didn’t know it back then, but as it turns out I have a thing for little girls with a Daddy complex and a desperate need to please.

Naturally, Madara couldn’t give that particular explanation, so he went for the next best thing, “For the same reason an artist would never paint on an already used canvas. You’re easier to mould now. You’re my blank canvas.”

And he was going to paint her in all of his colours. Especially in all sorts of red hues, like the ones adorning her cheeks at the moment.

“You want to mould me?”

Among many other, much much naughtier things.

“I am your mentor, after all, and that’s what’s expected of me. We mould our protégés into their best possible selves.”

He gave her a tiny reassuring smile and stood up from his chair.

“Now let’s continue. Richter’s Infra 5. I want the mezzo-staccato more pronounced this time.”

                                                        ----------

Her maestro’s encouraging words should have been enough to dispel any worries she had about her age and the question of whether or not she was too young and inexperienced to be part of his orchestra. And yet, here she was, five days after their concert in Seoul, sitting on stage in the Beijing Concert Hall, feeling all kinds of inadequate and wishing she had half the cup size of their singer.

Mei Terumi. Half Chinese, half Japanese opera diva par excellence and a proud E cup. She had the voice of an angel, the curves of Aphrodite, and all the grace, elegance and finesse of a mature woman who – contrary to Sakura – can not only walk in high heels, but actually stand around in them and sing her heart out for four hours straight without breaking a sweat or ruining her perfect hairdo. She was Maestro Uchiha’s special guest for their Beijing concert tomorrow; they were the musical accompaniment while Ms Terumi would beguile the audience with seductive jazz songs.

While Sakura loved the pieces her maestro chose for the concert, she was glad that particular programme wasn’t planned for every performance and that the opera singer wouldn’t accompany them for the entire tour. Because their conductor chose different pieces for every other city they would perform in, the jazz theme with Mei Terumi’s vocals was only planned this once for Beijing.

And judging by that weird feeling of inadequateness Sakura got every time she even so much as looked at the singer, one performance with her is more than enough to dampen her spirits.

“Do you think the two of them are doing it?”

Her head whipped to her right where she was met with the sight of their principal percussionist twirling his drumsticks. They were currently on a short break during their rehearsal, so Naruto came to join them in the string section.

“What do you mean ‘doing it’?” Sakura asked while trying to avoid getting the pointy end of his drumsticks stuck in her eye.

“You know, it.” The blonde musician suggestively wiggled with his eyebrows, but his expectant look was met with only more confusion, and Sakura shrugged her shoulders.

“Give it up, Naruto. Forehead is way too innocent to even think about such things. Isn’t that right,” Ino asked with a teasing grin, leaning closer to Sakura before whispering, “little Miss virgin?”

Sakura didn’t even have time to cover her blushing face when she heard Naruto snicker right next to her. “Oh my God, you are so adorable. You seriously didn’t know that doing it means having sex? You are such a pure, innocent little flower, and I shall shield you from being corrupted by this evil, sex-obsessed witch.”

“This evil, sex-obsessed witch will visit your hotel room tonight and shove her clarinet up your ass if you don’t shut your cakehole soon. But seriously though, the two of them are totally doing it. I mean look at her, who wouldn’t wanna do her? Plus, she’s totally Mr Uchiha’s type, you know mature, sophisticated, can probably tell the difference between Scotch and Bourbon. Hell, I’d do her, and she is so far out of my league she might as well live on Proxima Centauri.”

Sakura followed Ino’s gaze and let her eyes rest on the singer standing next to their conductor, currently busy with discussing a particularly complex piece. There was nothing overtly flirtatious about her behaviour, not now and not during the previous handful of rehearsals they had over the past two days. Both her and Mr Uchiha were always extremely professional, never getting too close or touching each other inappropriately. Though Sakura had to agree with Ino: Mei Terumi was so incredibly attractive that it probably wouldn’t even take that much flirting to wrap any guy around her finger. But weirdly enough Sakura wasn’t bothered so much by the idea of her conductor and the singer being intimate with each other. Sure, Maestro Uchiha was a god to her and she revered him as such, but never in her wildest dreams would she dare to think of herself as an object of his romantic or sexual desires. She was used to competing with others for his professional attention, but the thought of competing with women like Mei Terumi for his romantic attention had never crossed her mind, because Sakura believed him to be very much out of her league. And since intimacy wasn’t something she aimed for or even associated with her relationship with Mr Uchiha, her feeling of unease didn’t stem from romantic jealousy.

Mei Terumi was more of a reminder of Sakura’s lack of experience. The singer was basically oozing confidence and maturity with her flirtatious smiles, the way she held herself around big shot conductors like Madara Uchiha, and the way she knew exactly what to wear to accentuate her killer curves. In comparison to her, the young cellist felt all kinds of inadequate with her frilly little dresses and the fact that she didn’t even know that doing it meant having sex.

Mei Terumi and everything she embodied made Sakura feel too young, too inexperienced, as if she could never be up to par with the grown-ups if she kept sticking to her little girl persona.  And she desperately wanted to prove to her maestro that there was more to her than floral dresses and Hello Kitty stuffed toys.

Having made up her mind, the young cellist turned to her blonde friend.

“Ino, do you think I could borrow one of your dresses tomorrow?”

                                                         ----------

Madara nearly spat out his drink when he saw the outfit his principal cellist chose for the afterparty.

He was always the last to arrive at such events, and as soon he entered the lounge his eyes automatically scanned the crowd for a mop of pink hair. Sure enough, he found her, but unlike most times when he set his eyes on her, he didn’t like what he was seeing.  

She was dressed in a little black neckholder dress that hugged her petite figure and exposed just the right amount of cleavage to be alluring without coming across as slutty. Madara watched her nervously run her fingers through her long silky hair which was pulled into a tight high ponytail, and when her lips closed around the straw in her drink he noticed they were painted a provocative burgundy. His eyes travelled down the shape of her slender legs and landed on the dark red stilettos she was very obviously wearing for the first time, judging by the way she kept awkwardly twirling her foot on the heel of her shoe.

There was absolutely nothing slutty or inappropriate about her outfit. In fact, this was the way most of his female musicians dressed for events like these, and usually he couldn’t care less.

But little Ms Haruno once again proved to be the exception to each and every one of his rules.

Because even though he wouldn’t bat an eye whenever he saw Yamanaka, Sabakuno or Hyuuga in such outfits, because they were all older, seeing his protégé pretend to be someone she’s not dressed up in something so wildly unlike her made his hand tingle with the need to spank some sense into her.

As if she could sense his glare, the pink-haired cellist turned her head and let her eyes rest on him. For a second, Madara could have sworn she looked like a child who got caught with her hands in the cookie jar. He raised his hand and beckoned her to him. Like the good little girl that she was, she immediately left everything and everyone behind and made her way to him.

“Mr Uchiha, I’m glad you could – “

“What are you wearing?”

Madara watched as her hands immediately flew to the hem of her dress in an attempt to pull it down and cover a bit more skin she was suddenly and very obviously self-conscious about.

“You don’t like it?” she asked nervously as she looked up at him with huge, doubtful eyes.

“I think you already knew that I wouldn’t like it when you asked Ms Sabakuno to lend it to you. Or was it Ms Yamanaka?”

“But Sir, my outfit doesn’t violate the dress code, I even asked Deidara. Plus, Ino said she wore that dress a hundred times and nobody ever said it was inappropriate.”

“Do you feel comfortable in it, Ms Haruno?”

She lowered her gaze in defeat and instead absent-mindedly let it rest on his tie as she shook her head.

“Then why are you wearing it?”

Madara watched his young protégé shrug her shoulders and turn her head as a blush crept up her face. With a tiny, shy voice she added, “I just wanted to show everybody that I’m not just some young inexperienced rookie. That I can hang with the big kids, you know?”

“Wearing clothes you’re clearly uncomfortable in isn’t going to help with that. If you want to show them that you’re someone worthy of respect, you need to do it with merit and not by pretending to be someone you’re not. Now I’m going to take you back to your hotel room and you’re going to change, is that clear?”

Madara’s hand found the small of her back as he guided her to the lounge’s exit.

“Sir, is that really necessary? I mean sure, the shoes hurt, but I was only going to stay for another hour or so anyway. I can make that without changing.”

When they exited the building, the brisk night air made the young cellist shiver, so Madara wordlessly took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders before hailing a taxi. As he opened the door for her and helped her get in, he fixed her with another glare and said, “The hotel is only a five minute ride away from here, so that should be enough time for you to think about why I’m disappointed in you. We’ll talk about this when we’re in your room, so I’ll expect an answer from you, young lady.”

He closed the door and got into the taxi on the other side. It was a tense five minutes, though probably more so for the pink-haired musician than for Madara. He could practically hear the wheels turning inside her head as he silently let her mull over his accusation. But he believed that giving her the time and opportunity to self-reflect was going to prove a valuable lesson for her. Not least because Madara knew she was always desperate to fix the mistakes he pointed out.

After arriving at their hotel, the conductor helped Sakura out of the car and told her to go ahead so he could pay the driver. Leaning closer to the man’s front seat window, he heard him say, “You have a lovely daughter, Sir. With a firm daddy such as yourself, I’m sure she’ll turn out just fine, so don’t be too harsh on her. I’m a father too, you know, and I’m very proud of my little princess.”

Great. The universe was clearly torturing him. Madara knew he had to keep his lewd fantasies regarding his pretty little protégé in check, and yet some greater force deemed it necessary to dangle them in front of him every chance it got.

But he couldn’t give in.

He really shouldn’t.

“What were you and the driver talking about?” Madara heard a shy voice next to him ask.

As they entered the hotel’s lobby, the maestro steeled his resolve to not overstep any lines while they were alone in her room. He reminded himself this was purely for the image of the orchestra. He was just going to make sure that his protégé wouldn’t embarrass herself and his ensemble by wearing clothes unfit for such a young woman. Right, there was nothing more to it.

Nothing inappropriate was going to happen.

Getting into the lift, he pressed the button that would lead them to her room as she asked again, “Sir, what did the driver have to say?”

“You’re a nosey little one, aren’t you? If you really must know, he didn’t say anything that would concern you.”

Madara turned his head to face her and was met with the same look of absolute reverence and adoration she always had reserved only for him. In that moment, he knew he just lost the most decisive battle of his life.

And he couldn’t care less.

With a devilish grin tugging on the corner of his lips, he leaned a bit closer to her and whispered, “At least it doesn’t concern you … yet.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

His grin widened at the sight of her adorably confused face before he exited the lift and headed for her room. The driver did say something that concerned Sakura, but Madara meant what he said – it didn’t concern her yet. Because she sure as hell was his little princess and he sure as hell would be the firm daddy doling out spankings left right and centre – she just didn’t know it yet. Now that he threw caution to the wind and decided to give into his desires, Madara couldn’t wait to implement some changes in their relationship: The maestro would slowly and subtly introduce her to some of the things he had been craving to do to her since the day he met the little cellist, and if she responded to them willingly Madara would make her his for good. Though judging by the way she was already staring up at him with hearts in her eyes and a look that said please love me, daddy, Madara was sure she would jump at the chance of being nurtured and disciplined by him in more ways than a professional one.

Closing the door to her hotel room, Madara had to force down his devious grin and instead pretend to be angry. He turned around and fixed her with a glare. “Go into the bathroom, remove all of that make-up and change into something more comfortable.”

“Yes, Sir,” she mumbled with a pout before turning on her heel and disappearing into the bathroom.

When she got out, Madara had to stifle a groan at the sight of her new outfit: She was wearing pastel pink flannel pyjama bottoms with unicorns on them and a snug white shirt with a picture of her instrument and the words Cello: Everyone Else Is Accompaniment below it. She couldn’t possibly be any cuter if she tried.

Madara motioned her to sit on the bed while he crossed his arms in front of his chest and positioned himself in front of her in his most authentic imitation of an angry dad posture.

“Now, Ms Haruno, can you tell me why I’m disappointed in you?”

Tucking her chin into her chest, Sakura mumbled something incoherent in that tiny unsure voice she always used whenever she thought she did something wrong.

“Speak up, little one, I can’t hear you.”

“Because I pretended to be someone I’m not?”

“And why do you think that upset me?”

She started chewing on her bottom lip which drove Madara absolutely mad for 5 hellishly long seconds before answering, “Because you told me once already that I shouldn’t worry about my age or how experienced I seem to others, and that you picked me because I’m so young, and that I should be proud of it and not try to hide it, but I did that anyway and now you’re mad at me.” The pinkette was now nervously tugging on the ends the blanket she was sitting on while looking up at him with a pleading look in her eyes, silently begging him to forgive her.

Madara knew he was being cold when he didn’t answer immediately, instead fixing his glare on her for a few more seconds and allowing himself to enjoy her display of absolute submissiveness.

“Please, Sir, I can’t stand the thought of you being disappointed in me. Please, just tell me what I can do to make it up to you. I’ll follow all of your rules. I’ll be good, Sir, I promise.”

Gods have mercy on him, she was the perfect little girl. All submissive, obedient, and desperate to please him. And the best thing was, she wasn’t even faking her little persona. She didn’t just wear frilly dresses or unicorn pyjama bottoms to impress someone, she didn’t just braid her hair into pigtails because she wanted to look younger, she didn’t just pretend to constantly crave his guidance and approval because she thought that’s what turned him on – she just really was genuinely little.

And also in desperate need of some punishment.

“It seems like you’re no longer able to decide which clothes are appropriate for your age. In order to prevent you from embarrassing yourself and our entire orchestra, I will decide what you wear to formal events. We start right now, I’ll find something more suitable for tonight’s party. You’re going to change and we’re going to go back, so you can prove to whomever you want to prove that neither your age nor your clothes define how good and how experienced a musician you are.”

Madara opened her closet where she had hung a couple of dresses, skirts, and blouses and started going through her clothes when he heard her protest behind him.

“But Sir, is that really necessary? It was a one-time thing, I promise it won’t happen again.”

He handed her a simple white blouse and a floral skirt he had often seen her wear and sternly added, “I’m giving you the opportunity to comply with my rules willingly. If you keep misbehaving and disobeying me, I can always just spank some sense into you.”

Judging by her scared wide eyes and the deep blush spreading across her cheeks, that threat was enough to get her moving. With a nervous little Yes, Sir, Sakura disappeared into the bathroom to change into her new outfit. When she got out, he beckoned her to get closer to where he was leaning against a desk.

“Now isn’t that more comfortable?”

Madara watched his pretty little protégé twirl in front of a mirror before she nodded her head in confirmation. “This is actually one of my favourite skirts. Though I rarely wear it to formal events.”

“Why is that?”

“Well … it’s silly, but … I rarely wear skirts and dresses without thigh high socks, because I just think it looks so cute.”

Oh, he noticed.

“And even though I admittedly don’t have the fanciest fashion sense, even I know you don’t wear thigh high socks to an after party. So I usually just choose an outfit where I wouldn’t have worn socks anyway. Even though I’ve got the prettiest and cutest socks ever that just go perfectly with this skirt.”

Madara noticed the way her eyes started to sparkle as soon as she got out of the bathroom. She obviously felt much more comfortable now, and she even seemed to enjoy playing dress-up for him. So he decided he would indulge her.

“Well if you really think that outfit is incomplete without your socks, why don’t you put them on and show me?”

“Really?” Her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, and she immediately dashed to her suitcase where she rummaged around in search of her socks. Taking a seat on the bed, she quickly rolled them over each leg, stepped in front of the mirror to Madara’s left and twirled around all happy and cute. Then she turned towards him and extended her left leg to show him her socks. “See, they’ve got cute little kitty faces on the upper part here, and they’ve even got cat ears sticking out of the hem, and I use them to pull up the socks.”

“That’s adorable, little one.”

She blushed and shyly bit her bottom lip before whispering a tiny Thank you, Sir.

“There’s only one problem. You got changed so quickly that you look all dishevelled now. Your blouse isn’t neatly tucked into your skirt and your socks aren’t pulled up to the same height. I can’t let you go to a fancy afterparty like this, now, can I? Come here, princess,” he spread his legs and gently pulled her closer to him, so she was now standing between them, “let me fix this for you.”

While Madara was busy fixing her outfit – smoothing out wrinkles, tucking in her blouse, neatly rolling up her sleeves, and taking his sweet time doing it – Sakura was busy trying to stand still and not sway back and forth from the constant pushing and pulling. “Little one, you’ll need to stop fidgeting if you want me to fix your outfit. Hold on to me, so you can keep still.”

Gingerly, his little protégé placed her tiny little hands on his shoulders and used them to push back against his pulling and prodding.

“Sir, is this an outfit you would deem appropriate for me to wear to formal events?”

“Absolutely. Why?”

“Good. Because in that case, I don’t think I have a problem with you choosing my outfits from now on. I’m glad you seem to know what I like.”

Madara was met with a shy sincere smile from the pink-haired girl standing between his legs, and he was once again reminded of the fact of how adorably innocent she was, because no other woman – or even girl for that matter – would say I’m glad you seem to know what I like without being aware of the sexual innuendo of such a statement. But Sakura was so incredibly pure and chaste that Madara would bet his left testicle that she could suck on a popsicle in a room full of men and still be surprised that every single one of them was sporting a giant hard-on.

He took in her appearance and noted that the only thing still in need of fixing were her socks, which he purposefully saved for last. Now was the time to see if she would stop him from really overstepping the mark. Though, granted, fixing one of his musician’s outfit in such an intimate manner was already inappropriate, Madara still would have found a way to somehow talk his way out of it and make it seem like a halfway reasonable thing to do for an image-conscious conductor. But putting his hands underneath her skirt and pretending to pull up her socks under the thinly veiled guise of fixing her outfit – that was a completely different kettle of fish altogether.

“Are you going to do my socks, too, Sir?”

When Madara looked into her face, he immediately had an answer to his question of whether or not she would allow him to go this far. Because there was no insecurity or hesitance in her eyes, there wasn’t even the tell-tale blush or the flirtatious smile of someone who understood the intimacy of a man about to put his hands on a woman’s bare upper thigh. She looked at him expectantly as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a conductor to pull up the thigh high socks of his musician beneath her skirt.  

And so that was exactly what he did.

“Of course, little one. We want your two little kitties to be at eye level with each other, don’t we?”

That remark got him the cutest little giggle as Madara hooked his fingers into the hem of her left sock and slowly pulled it up her slender thigh.  

“Sir, you can’t forget to put the faces in the middle. It will look weird if the two kitties don’t face the same direction.”

“You’re right, princess. We don’t want somebody thinking your two kittens aren’t getting along with each other, now, do we?”

He could hear another giggle as he enveloped her left thigh with both his hands and rotated the sock so that the kitten face was in the middle. He allowed his thumb to slowly brush the back of her thigh before he willed both his hands to let go of her. Madara gave the two cat ears another tug and turned his attention to her right leg.

Again, he hooked his fingers into the hem of her sock and very slowly pulled it up, until it was the same height as the left one. Then he put his hand on the back of her knee and let it wander upwards to smooth out any wrinkles until his hand almost touched her ass. Using both hands again, he enveloped her upper thigh and gave the sock a few twists until the kitten face was in the middle. While his right hand was busy fixing the cat ears, Madara’s left hand was stroking up and down her inner thigh and came dangerously close to her panty line. He allowed himself to enjoy the feel of her soft flesh beneath his fingers for a few more seconds before lowering his hands to the slightly more respectable area of her knee caps.

“All done now.”

A shaky breath escaped her lips before she shot him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Sir. But I can’t see anything. The skirt is too long, it’s covering the kitties.”

“Pull it up, then.”

“Oh… right, of course.” Sakura shot him a bashful look, bit her lip, and then grabbed the hem of her skirt to pull it up a bit.

“See how pretty your legs look?” Madara asked while stroking the back of her thighs beneath her skirt.

“Mhm. I love these socks, they make me feel so pretty. I’m glad you made me change, Sir, I feel so much more comfortable now.”

“I’m glad you didn’t make a fuss. See how easy everything can be when you’re a good girl who listens and does as she’s told.”

“Um, Sir … about that.” Madara watched the young cellist start nervously playing with the end of his tie. While she was lost in thought, he took the opportunity to slowly move his hands upwards until his fingers were barely brushing the underside of her cheeks.

“Were you, um … were you really going to – I mean, if I had put up a fight, would you really have … you know?”

When she raised her head to peek up at him, Madara was met with the usual combination of a bashful look, a tell-tale blush and her signature circuit-frying lip bite. But she wasn’t the only one capable of rattling the other, he thought. After all, his hands were still very much beneath her skirt all but groping her ass.

“Would I have done … what, Sakura?” he prompted teasingly while giving the back of her thighs a firm squeeze.

She closed her eyes for a second and sighed quietly, before looking at him again.

“You know, Sir. Would you … Would you have,” she leaned in closer and whispered, “sp-spanked me?”

“Of course, I would have.”

Her blush turned an even deeper shade of red, and Madara could hear her breath quickening. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she was intrigued by the thought of his hands leaving bright red imprints on her ass.

“Don’t worry, little one, I’m not going to spank you now for what you did tonight, because we didn’t set any rules for that and you didn’t know that punishment was even involved. But you do know now, so I suggest you try your best to be a really good little girl from now on.”

She eagerly nodded her head and added a nervous little Yes, Sir before she went back to playing with the end of his tie.

“But um, when you,” Madara watched her tongue dart out to wet her lips, “spank me … what does that feel like? Does it hurt?”

“Now why would you want to know that? As long as you don’t do anything wrong, you have nothing to worry about on that front.”

“I just don’t think that I can sleep tonight knowing that there’s a possibility of me getting punished and I don’t even know what that form of punishment looks or feels like.”

Oh, she was intrigued alright. Madara couldn’t shake the feeling that he just broke a dam. For both of them.

“Well, I wouldn’t want my protégé to lose sleep over anything.”

He grabbed the back side of her skirt, pulled it up above her ass and gave her right cheek a sound smack.

And Gods have mercy on him, in that exact moment he heard the most delicious moan he ever elicited from a woman. If Madara hadn’t already thought that this innocent young cellist was the perfect little girl for him to nurture and to discipline, hearing her moan after being spanked for the first time would have given him the last proof he needed to know that she craved his dominance as much as he craved her submissiveness.

“This is what a spanking feels like. A very, very nice spanking, mind you. It’s going to hurt a lot more when I’m angry with you.”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” She nodded her head in understanding while rubbing soothing circles on her backside.

Madara was enjoying this way too much, so he had to bring this to an end soon before he completely lost control of his senses. If he were to see her bite her lip one more time, Madara swore his dick would explode.

“Now that we’ve cleared up a few things, I suggest you return to the party. There are a lot of people there eager to meet you. And remember,” he grabbed her chin between his fingers and leaned closer, “be a good little girl for me.”

Madara watched her blush deepen as she stared into his eyes with a dreamy look and moaned a tiny little Yes, Sir.

After she had gathered her things and grabbed her purse, they both left her hotel room. Sakura headed towards the lift when she noticed Madara wasn’t following.

“Aren’t you coming, too?”

“You go ahead, I’ll join you in a bit. I just need to take care of something first.”

My rock hard dick.

The conductor watched his protégé step into the lift and wave goodbye. “Ok then, see you in a bit, Mr Uchiha. And um … thanks.” Sakura shot him a bashful smile before the doors closed.

Madara released a sigh of relief before focusing his gaze on his hard-on.

“You’re going to both hate me and love me for what I did tonight.”

[fangirling-throughlife]

Music is in my DNA. I think there aren’t many Spaniards who don’t have music in their DNA. And if you go to Valencia, it’s almost impossible to find someone who hasn’t studied music at least for a year, who doesn’t know to play an instrument. It’s normal, considering that there are 1.686 musical groups (bands, orchestras, choirs, big bands...) in Valencia. 40.000 musicians, 64.000 music students. Our dearest memories are linked to music from the beginning: Fallas, the weeks of festivities, 9 d’octubre, Easter... I can sing you at least one piece that matches every major religious and civil festivity throughout the year. 

I was raised around music. My grandparents gave money to the town’s band to build their rehearsal space and bar, my great-uncle is the oldest member of the band, my dad is a musician... My mum doesn’t know how to read music, or how to match a pitch, nor does she have any sense of rythm. But she loves music, and my childhood was filled with Beethoven, Mahler, Mozart, Eros Ramazotti, Andrea Bocelli, Pavarotti, amongst many more. 

I started to study music at age 7. I was too young to start with an instrument, so I studied a first year of musical theory before they let me decide. Back then, the opera house of Valencia was just open, and there was a segment about it on TV every single day. The instrument I saw every day was the violin, so, of course, I wanted that. Because my dad was a member of a symphonic band, the violin was out of the question, but I was so stubborn that they let me pick the next best thing: the cello. I really struggled with it. I was a quick learner but my teacher didn’t let me go beyond what was recommended for my age. Then every other cellist in my music school left, and my grandmother told me the cello was the most useless instrument of all. Not having any famous role models (back then YouTube wasn’t very well known, and definitely censured in my house after they found out my best friend looked up dirty videos on it) or even role models in my everyday life, I wanted to quit. I started to play the saxophone (again, bribed by my family and a couple of friends) while I was deciding if I stopped with music altogether or just with the cello. As a last resort, my parents transferred me to a public music school in a city not too far away, where I had plenty of other cellists and other string musicians. I started orchestra lessons, then chamber music, then I got invited to play in other student orchestras during the holidays and suddenly I knew that was what I wanted to do in my life. I stopped making homework, but composed and played the piano instead. I played 2-3 hours a day, missed classes to go to concerts. I was set on being a professional musician.

After giving in to pressure from outside to have a back-up plan, I focused a bit more on high school, and, with top grades from the class in sciences, my grades dropped (a little bit) in music school. I graduated with very good marks, but I still decided to wait a year to focus on prepare auditions while I started something at university. That first year almost became the end of me. I got depressed, I had almost daily panic attacks, and after a little more than a month my mum figured out that stopping with music classes had caused such a big change on my life that I didn’t know how to go on. That year I started having serious bone and muscular problems that made me go to physiotherapy for 3 months. That was the moment when I had to give up my dream. 

Since then, I’ve had panic attacks during rehearsals, I’ve played as a soloist, I’ve been first cello for 3 years in the orchestra where I spent my high school and university years, I’ve done small tours around the north of Spain and even premiered some pieces. By the beginning of lockdown I was involved in 3 different orchestral projects (two of them linked to a higher musical education institution) and my band, even though I was finishing Biochemistry. 

Now I moved. Some of the best music professors in Europe are in Belgium, but I can’t find amateur orchestras or even symphonic bands to join. Like, not with a level to satisfy me after 12 years of musical education and 10 years of orchestral experience. I had my back-up cello (because MY cello stayed in Spain, waiting for me to come home and go to 1 or 2 rehearsals), which needed a lot of tending (basically, horrible strings). The first two weeks I didn’t play at all, because I cried every time I looked at it and remembered that my dearest instrument needs to go to the atelier before I can play on it again. Then I progressively started to play more and more, and now I was playing over 2 hours a day, studying technique and concerto’s by myself. Until I decided to change those horrible strings, and today, in the span of 15 minutes, two of my medium-good strings snapped (we suspect there’s a wood splinter somewhere). It sounds stupid, even more considering that I’m starting a Master’s degree in 15 days, but I kinda lost my purpose. The moment when I’d finished the dishes and the news was over, and I had the time to start and play was hard, and I always thought I didn’t have to do it. But the moment I started, I didn’t want to stop, and I always had to because my fingers were about to start bleeding, or because it was dinner time or something. 

Now that’s gone (at least, until I find a decent atelier around here and they fix it). I can’t have that moment when I sit barefoot and with my eyes closed, playing El Cant dels Ocells and connecting with something bigger than myself, occasionally with some tears. Or the moment of triumph when that last scale was right or I got to 100% of an Allegro tempo. 

I’ve spent half an hour listening to pasodobles, which are pieces usually written for wind bands to play on the street, and actually crying a bit. This is my past, my present, and I want to keep it in my future so badly. I never thought I’d miss something about my life back at home, not after the hellish last years I’ve had. But now I realise I miss having music everywhere, surrounding me. I miss being part of that. Of playing Shostakovich and feeling like we’re soldiers in the Russian Revolution, playing Tchaikovsky and trying to figure out what he wanted to explain, playing Elgar and actually mourning, playing Beethoven and feeling every feeling in the world, all at once. 

There’s a saying about children and teenagers in my band. “He/She has musical notes in their veins”. I’ve heard it being said about so many people in my 22 years of life, including my brother and myself. I know this is stupid from a biological point of view, but I truly believe that music is a lifestyle, and, in my case, a lifesaver.

[noona-clock]

Confusion & Coincidences - Part 2

Genre: Regency!AU

Pairing: Yongguk x You

By Admin B

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

If the sun was shining, there was a very good chance you could be found out of doors. And today, the day after the ball you would have rather not attended where you were introduced to a most ‘disagreeable, sour, and mirthless’ man (the words taken from your mother, mind you), the sun was shining.

So you had slipped out of the house after luncheon, tucking your book underneath your arm and trekking out to your favorite spot just at the edge of your family’s property. There was a stately oak tree you liked to rest against, its branches large enough to provide shade as you relaxed against its sturdy trunk.

You had barely gotten through the ball in your book last night before you noticed your blinks were lasting almost a minute. You’d given up just when Elizabeth had met up with her best friend, Charlotte - much like you had met up with your best friend, Alice. Yet another odd coincidence between this book and the happenings in your own life.

But, really, that was about as far as the coincidences went. In Chapter 3, Elizabeth had overheard Mr. Darcy say her looks were tolerable, but she was not handsome enough to tempt him. You hadn’t heard the Earl say anything of the sort.

You hadn’t heard the Earl say anything. At all.

Not that you even minded or cared in the least. He was handsome, to be sure, but you would much rather marry someone for his mind, not for his face.

Yes, it would be nice to have a handsome face to look at across the dinner table, but if that handsome face had absolutely nothing of value to say? Couldn’t discuss the deep, profound issues of life with you? Had no desire to read the latest novels?

No, thank you.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you leaned back against the tree trunk. Enough of the Earl; it was time to read. You slid a finger in-between the pages, opening your book and finding the last sentence you remember reading before drifting off last night.

Ah, yes. 

“’His pride,’ said Miss Lucas, ‘does not offend me so much as pride often does, because there is an excuse for it. One cannot wonder that so very fine a young man, with family, fortune, everything in his favour, should think highly of himself. If I may so express it, he has a right to be proud.’”

So maybe that was why the Earl had barely spoken a word to anyone. You’d thought so last night, wondering if he was so disagreeable because he was used to more lavish, expensive balls.

Honestly, if he was that snobbish, why come at all?

Your shoulders lifted into a barely perceptible shrug, and a huff of a sigh left your lips before you continued on reading.

It didn’t take long for you to become completely engrossed. Whoever this author was, she had a way with words; it was much too easy for you to imagine every single picture she verbally painted, and to be quite honest, just about everything she wrote hit very close to home.

Elizabeth’s mother was also obsessed with marrying off her daughter, though Mrs. Bennet did have five daughters instead of just one. Maybe you could lend a bit more empathy toward her than you could your own mother.

Your attention was focused quite acutely on Elizabeth’s sister, Mary, and her teeth-pulling concerto on the pianoforte when, all of a sudden, the thumping of hooves broke into your thoughts.

A quick glance upward awarded you the sight of --

Wait, was that really --?

You scrambled to your feet as the Earl of Blackman approached on horseback, though he dismounted once he realized he was intruding on someone else’s territory.

“M--my Lord,” you greeted a bit hesitantly. You had absolutely no earthly idea why he was here, and therefore, you had absolutely no earthly idea how to react.

“Miss Y/N,” he replied, letting go of his horse’s reins and allowing the creature to graze leisurely for the time being. “My apologies for the disruption. I was just... exploring.”

Oh, dear God.

His voice.

As I mentioned earlier, you hadn’t heard the Earl speak at all last night, so hearing him greet you now was the first time you were certain he even had a voice.

But he did.

And it was --

Well, it certainly matched his good looks.

It was deep and rich. Smooth but also raspy. Clear but mysterious at the same time.

And he’d remembered your name. Out of several dozens of young ladies he’d met last night, he’d remembered your name.

“Oh, it’s--” you gulped. “It’s no trouble at all. Though, I daresay you must be a bit lost.”

Surely, there was no way he was riding near your family’s estate on purpose.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, just barely meeting your gaze. “Well, not lost, exactly. Like I said, I was just exploring. The weather was too fine to stay indoors.”

“I quite agree,” you nodded.

“Yes,” he replied shortly. “Clearly.”

You pressed your lips together, waiting for him to continue speaking...

But he didn’t.

And you didn’t either.

So it was just silent.

For almost a whole minute.

“Did you enjoy yourself at the ball?” you finally asked, your question nearly bursting out of your mouth, eager to fill the exceedingly uncomfortable silence.

Although your question had not been a good one.

You knew already he hadn’t enjoyed himself. He stood in almost the same spot for the entire night, hardly ever saying a word.

“I, uh,” he began, clasping his hands behind his back. It was only then you noticed he was wearing the most beautiful, well-tailored green riding coat. It fit him so perfectly, as did his tan-colored breeches. Shiny, cognac riding boots finished off his smart ensemble, and you realized you were too engrossed in his clothing that you were now missing some of his answer to your poorly thought out question.

“--are not really my favorite activity. I simply attended at the request of my cousin. I would have rather... stayed at home.”

“I see,” you murmured. “And it must have been exhausting meeting all those new people.”

He nodded, and you were about to remark that you actually felt the same way, but he spoke before you had the chance.

“I noticed you did not socialize very much, either,” he pointed out. He didn’t sound accusatory, so it was difficult to take offense. He sounded more... matter-of-fact. And you suddenly realized, to notice such a thing, he must have been keeping an eye on you the same way you’d been keeping an eye on him.

...But why?

“No,” you answered quickly. “I usually do not. My mother is the outgoing one in our family. My brother, as well, though he’s not so frivolous about it. My father and I much prefer to remain in the comforts with which we’re familiar.”

“We have that in common, then,” the Earl muttered softly.

You met his gaze directly, and dare I say, it almost knocked you back against the tree.

“Y-yes,” you stammered, surprised your voice hadn’t caught in your throat. “It seems we do.”

His eyes darted away then, and you took the opportunity to take as deep a breath as you could, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible.

“Ah, I seem to have interrupted your reading,” he said suddenly. You looked up again, and you saw he was nodding toward your book still resting on the ground.

“Oh -- well, yes,” you admitted. “I started it last night after the ball, though I didn’t get nearly as far as I wanted to. Like you said, the weather is too fine.”

“Can you often be found reading out of doors, then?” he asked curiously.

You nodded, feeling the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “Quite often.”

“Which book is it?”

“Oh! It’s called Pride & Prejudice,” you told him. You couldn’t see this, but your eyes lit up as you spoke. “It’s by an anonymous female author. She wrote another novel last year called --”

“Sense & Sensibility,” the Earl finished. “Yes, I read it.”

Your lips parted, forming a small ‘O’ of surprise. “You did?”

“I did. I plan to buy a copy of this new one the next chance I get.”

Instantly, your heart fluttered with excitement. “Really? Oh, didn’t you just love Sense & Sensibility? I’ve read it about five times already, and I will surely read this one just as many times - or more.”

The Earl cleared his throat and took a step back toward his horse. “Yes, it was quite entertaining. I, uh -- I should probably be going. I don’t want to keep you from your book any longer.”

“Oh, well, I --” you began, your brow furrowing. But the Earl was already mounting his horse and digging his heels into his side, urging him into a soft gallop.

...Oh.

Okay, then.

You read several chapters of your book until you admitted to yourself that you weren’t focusing on the story as much as you wished you were.

Your encounter with the Earl was whirling around in your brain, distracting you. But you were trying to figure out so many things!

Why did he stop to talk to you?

Why did he remember your name?

Why did he know you hadn’t socialized all evening?

Or rather, why was he watching you to know you hadn’t socialized all evening?

Why did he read the same books as you?

Why did he leave so suddenly?

Why did his outfit fit him so well?

Okay, well, the answer to the last question was because he was rich and could afford the most experienced tailors as well as the most high-quality fabrics.

But still. You’d never quite seen a man wear an outfit like he had.

So just after Mrs. Bennet had forced Jane to walk in the rain to Mr. Bingley’s house (you could see it now: Jane would fall ill and have to stay in Mr. Bingley’s care, bringing them even closer together), you snapped your book shut and stood. There was no use staying out here when all you could think of was what just happened in this very spot.

Deciding to take the long way home, you walked around the edge of your family’s property, trekking through a copse of trees, carefully stepping over a log across a stream, and hopping on rocks to avoid a few muddy areas too shaded to have dried out from the rain a few days ago.

Just as you had turned to head back to the manor, you saw a figure in the distance. For a split second, you believed it might be the Earl again, but you quickly dissolved yourself of that notion because you recognized it was Alice. Thank god.

You lifted your arm into the air, waving it around wildly to catch her eye.

“Hello, my dearest,” Alice greeted once the two of you had gotten close enough. “Been reading, I suppose?”

“I have,” you chuckled. But then you remembered what else you’d done, and your soft smile fell. “But guess who I ran into over there by my reading tree?”

Alice’s eyes went wide. “Who?” she asked eagerly.

“The Earl of Blackman.”

Alice gasped softly. “Did you, really?!”

You nodded solemnly. “He was out riding - exploring, he said. And what’s even more, he remembered my name! And he knew that I hadn’t danced at the ball last night.”

“He actually talked to you?!”

Immediately, the thought of his voice burst into your brain. It almost made you shiver, but you held back, not wanting Alice to ask any... awkward questions.

“For a few minutes, actually. He said he’s read Sense & Sensibility, and when I started talking about it, he suddenly had to leave. It was very odd.”

Alice’s brow furrowed as she slipped her arm through yours, continuing to walk toward your family’s manor. “Hmm,” she hummed. “That is very odd. But you say he remembered your name?”

“No hesitation whatsoever. Said it right out.”

“Well, then, he obviously fancies you.”

You stopped walking abruptly, your head jerking back in complete and utter surprise. “I’m sorry, what?!” you cried. “You must be joking!”

“Y/N!” your best friend chuckled. “Come on! Do use your head. He remembered your name and knew you hadn’t danced? So he was watching you! Because he likes you!”

“But we were watching him, too, and it certainly wasn’t because we like him.”

“Well, yes. But, still! Men don’t watch women because they’re nosy. They watch them because they’re enchanted.”

You thought back to your conversation with the Earl, and you sputtered out a laugh. “The Earl of Blackman is not enchanted by me, I can assure you. Our conversation was very awkward.”

“Ah!” Alice cried. “Yes, I forgot to mention. I just ran into Mr. Kim in town, and we spoke about his cousin. He said the Earl is just very shy. Not talkative like him, you know. So that’s probably why he didn’t dance with anyone or speak that much. He was too overwhelmed. I think we should give him another shot, don’t you?”

“...Another shot? Another shot at what?”

“We dismissed him too quickly as potential marriage material! If he’s just shy, that’s much more easy to work with than if he were a snob.”

Oh, dear lord. You didn’t need your best friend mentioning marriage to you, too!

“No, thank you, Alice,” you stated as you approached the side door to the house. “I will not be getting married to the Earl of Blackman. I doubt I shall ever even see him again.”

Alice simply sighed softly as she followed you up the stone steps and through the door. “If you say so.”

“Did I hear someone talking about marriage?!” your mother cried out shrilly.

You threw Alice a glance over your shoulder, rolling your eyes.

Part 3

[leapingtitan]

R∃/MEMBER (Individual Song Thoughts) - SawanoHiroyuki[nZk] 3rd Album

I made a review on the 2nd album, 2V-ALK a while ago so here is the next installment. This is mostly for the Sawano Discord server but I’m posting it here for convenience and safekeeping purposes.

01. Glory -into the RM- (violin: SUGIZO from X Japan; vocal: Yosh)

I really love the instrumental parts of this track. It works well as an introduction piece and is up there with ~prologue~ for me. The vocal parts with Yosh are a bit weak and turn the track from a badass instrumental piece to a stadium football game chant. The track can do without it. However, there is that one section after the chorus where Yosh whispers like he’s singing in a 2000′s alternative rock band and the vocals do this cool panning effect. SUGIZO from X Japan is on the violin and his parts are really good and have a lot of synergy with the sampled bagpipes and piano. The guitar chugs are also pretty cool and remind me of TBFworld a bit. Overall, it’s a good track despite the vocal section being a bit unnecessary. Speaking of, them lyrics. “Honor of dying alone”? Was this made for Thunderbolt Fantasy or something?

02. EVERCHiLD (vocal: Akihito Okano from PornoGraffiti)

I admit the track has grown on me a bit and I definitely like it more than I did when the first preview video of it showed up. Still, as I’ve stated many times, I don’t really like happy and bright songs too much and prefer something with a stronger emotional impact. Still, the track is nice and again I’m glad Sawano did something different with the drums for once rather than layering electronic beats over an acoustic kit. My biggest problem with the track is the last chorus and the outro. “Tiny world is so stuffed all day, but nothing’s gonna change my story” is sung 6 times back to back and gets repetitive after the 2nd one. Should have just kept it as an instrumental. Other than that, I’m not the biggest fan of Akihito Okano’s voice. I like him more in the first Bnha OP for instance.

03. never gonna change (vocal: SukimaSwitch)

One of the tracks I’ve been most hyped for since the preview has dropped and boy does it not disappoint. I love the guitar and the drums and SukimaSwitch’s voice is really nice. It honestly reminds me some of the pop-ish music I used to listen when I was younger. The “2nd chorus” in the original PV was actually the bridge, to my surprise. The 2nd verse, which is new here, is really good. Love the guitar that comes in after the first few measures. Overall, the track is great.

Lastly, that instrumental outro section with the piano and guitar was completely unexpected but it’s amazing. It sounds like it would be a track rearrangement if never gonna change was an OST piece. Really good and honestly adds a whole new dimension at the end of an otherwise great track. My favorite so far.

04. narrative (vocal: LiSA)

Now we get to some of the tracks which have already been heard before in other releases. I’d be repeating myself if I go in detail like with the other tracks so the tl;dr version would be that I don’t think LiSA’s voice fits this type of Sawano music at all. Not that it’s a surprise considering the track wasn’t even composed with her vocals in mind. The instrumental is, for all it’s worth, actually not that bad. I don’t really mind the strings, or “casio pad strings” as dante calls them and it makes the song at least a bit more interesting.

05. i-mage (vocal: Aimer)

It’s been a long time since an Aimer and Sawano collab and unfortunately I don’t think the wait was that worth it. For the record, I really love Aimer’s voice but the song composition itself is what I dislike. Similarly to EVERCHiLD, the song just doesn’t have enough emotional impact, at least for me. I can see the appeal of it otherwise but personally it doesn’t do much on my end. The intro and verse are alright but the chorus is where it gets too playful for me to take it seriously and I found myself spacing out and losing focus on the actual track which hasn’t happened with the other songs so far. The 2nd verse has some cool bass going on but it sounds really noisy in the mix for some reason. Lastly, again, same problem with EVERCHiLD where the standout English portion of the lyrics, in this case “Light and dreams that children hold tight, now you have them in your right hand” repeats way too much in the last chorus and outro portions. Same formula.

Despite all of these complaints I think if I listen to the track enough it might grow on me. Might. But other than that, a bit underwhelming and personally my least favorite Sawano and Aimer collaboration for now.

06. NOISEofRAIN (vocal: swan with nishi Takanori Nishikawa from TM Revolution)

I’m gonna be honest here, it’s really hard for me to talk about this song without any irony and memes to go with it. This song just slaps. That’s it. I listen to it on an almost daily basis and have been doing so since it came out at the end of November. Can’t really say much other than it’s my favorite [nZk] song and Takanori Nishikawa is the OG.

One thing I have to point out though is that the mix in this album’s version is slightly different than the one in the narrative/NOISEofRAIN single, specifically the start of the first verse where there’s two synths that are either made really quiet or missing. Yeah, I’ve listened to this track way too much in order to notice the smallest things like that..

OUTRAGERS DRIVE ME NUTS

07. Binary Star (vocal: Uru)

This is the one older [nZk] song I can’t put my feelings into words for. I really like Uru’s voice and I hope Sawano collaborates with her again in the future, but the song itself is just... strange. Specifically the instrumental. It’s just really weird, having the strings and piano portion at first and then adding drums later on. I just don’t know what to think. I definitely don’t dislike it and I do enjoy it but that’s it. I actually really need to listen to it more often... 

You know what, Binary Star is really nice.

08. ME & CREED <nZkv> (vocal: Sayuri)

Okay... so... uhm. I guess this is it. This is the track. I’ve made fun of this song a lot back when we only had PVs to go on. I called it a lot of things and overall shared the server’s opinion that it’s not that great. But you know what? I listened to it once today, in the full album. Just once, didn’t really need to listen anymore to open my eyes.

By the way, little fun fact: It’s actually spelled Me & Creed in the original Blue Exorcist OST, or I guess if you want the full name.. “Exorcist Concerto First Movement”... something like that, don’t !songtitle me... but yeah I’m just delaying the inevitable here.

So, I have finally been able to have a fresh, reformed opinion on ME & CREED <nZkv> and express my true feelings. Because, well, the truth is...

...

It still fucking sucks.

Honestly... just.. why? First of all, out of all of the “High Pitched Jpop Vocalists That Do Not Match Sawano’s Composition Style” category members, Sayuri is by far the worst. And, you know, that might just be be for not preferring this kind of voice that a lot of Japanese singers, but I’ve listened to some of Sayuri’s own stuff and it’s not bad because the SONG ACTUALLY FITS HER VOICE.

Now, despite all of this the verse is alright. The chorus is where the harmonies really get out of hand and only make the already bad vocals worse. And it wouldn’t have been as jarring if the instrumental was decent but it’s not. Me & Creed is not at all the type of song that would benefit from overly punchy kick drums and toms and it loses its entire flavor just with the drums alone. It sounds like a below-average pre-rec demo of the original track and doesn’t even respect what kind of song the original is.

Also, this is made for a mobile game. I don’t know about you but if this was in a game as its main theme that would not give me a good impression.

Fun fact, this is the only track on the entire album that is under 4 minutes long. I guess you can say it came short in multiple departments. I give it an Aldnoah Zero out of 10.

09. Unti-L (vocal: ASCA)

After the traumatizing experience that is the previous track, I come to something that is actually good. Unti-L and never gonna change are my favorite new tracks from this album. I’ve been looking forward to this one since the first 5 second PV and I’ve been listening to the short version a lot for the past week. The song is incredible. 6/8 time signature, ballad-y sound, strings and good sound design in general makes for a solid and near flawless track. ASCA’s voice is very enjoyable and I find that it works well with the song since it was probably made with her vocals in mind unlike narrative and... the other thing.

I can’t really say much else, really. Great intro, verse, vocals, melody and overall sound. The instrumental break/bridge is also very pleasant with the simple guitar. Probably the most emotionally impacting track on the album and I love it.

10. Cage (vocal: Tielle)

The original Cage is interesting but I have to say I find it inferior to the <NTv> version from the narrative/NOISEofRAIN single. I’m not the biggest fan of the synth in the intro and the electronic drums don’t quite do it for me in terms of the overall sound. The <NTv> version is still superior in every way and has fits more with the melody and Tielle’s voice. Overall though, the composition is great but you can’t really look at the instrumental alone in both cases since Tielle’s voice makes the track what it is.

11. REMEMBER (vocal: mizuki, Gemie, Tielle, naNami, Yosh)

Should have just credited it as [nZchoir]. 

On a serious note, this sounds like something you would hear in a Disney Channel movie, especially the chorus. The track is surprisingly pleasant to listen to and I find it really catchy and easy to jam and sing along to. Also like the parts where there’s just one vocalist singing and the choir effect in the chorus is really nice as well. Again.. Disney movie.

I actually want to say more about this track but I definitely need to listen to it a bit more to make other comments. Other than that, it’s nice.

Conclusion

As a whole, this seems like a much more fresh album than 2V-ALK. It still doesn’t compare to the diversity and variety in o1 or how solid UnChild is, but I still think it’s at least on par with 2V-ALK despite not having all that many songs. Still, the new original tracks here (well, almost all of them) are interesting and despite my comments on some of them I do think they do their thing and make the album.. work, I guess. I definitely have some tracks I want to go back and relisten to a few of them though, which is a good sign.

I don’t have individual ratings for the tracks but in terms of ranking, a few hours after my first impressions and a few listens I would order them in the following fashion. The best is at the top and the worst is at the bottom.

NOISEofRAIN

never gonna change

Unti-L

Glory -into the RM-

Binary Star

REMEMBER

EVERCHiLD

i-mage

Cage

narrative

you know what goes here.

And that would be it. Thanks for reading!

[house-o-wax]

M

L is done and there wasn’t much of it. Now is time for M.

Magma - S/t also sometimes known as Kobaïa

Heck yes this is good. I don’t think there is anything I can say about this album that hasn’t already been said so if you do not recognize this then go listen to it right now instead of reading what some schmuck has to say about it. Do yourself that favour, you won’t regret it.

Now one little comment about the neat gatefold :

look at the little flaps at the end to close the openings and prevent all dust getting it

look at ‘em

WHY AREN’T THEY ON EVERY GATEFOLD SLEEVE THIS WAS ON THE ORIGINAL 1970 EDITION YET NO OTHER GATEFOLD HAS THAT

WHY

EXPLAIN YOURSELVES

... anywho

Michel Magne - Éléments Nº 1, la Terre

How that’s a neat coincidence : Magne is the man who turned the then crumbling castle of Hérouville into a massive recording studio with rooms and accomodation for a whole little orchestra to stay for weeks while recording. Y’know, the place where Magma recorded their most classic albums ; where David Bowie recorded Low ; where Iggy Pop recorded The Idiot ; where Stayin’ Alive was recorded, among many others. That was all started by Magne who already had quite the career going as a soundtrack composer too. Fantômas or Les Tonton flingueurs are probably not going to ring a bell if you aren’t french but that’s all his work.

In 1978, he took some time to start a series of synth, vaguely new-age-y albums all based on the classical elements, and that’s the first of them. As bad luck would have it though, he died in 1984 having only gone through Earth (pictured above) and Water. That’s quite the bummer if you ask me.

Mahavishnu Orchestre - Birds of Fire

They were better without Ponty and started running on empty after three albums, fight me. Also, Chick Corea and his Return to Forever did it better.

Birds of Fire is still pretty damn good.

Henry Mancini - Soundtrack to the Pink Panther

Talking about the unsung heroics of soundtrack composers, Mancini was quite a beast. You probably know Peter Gunn, the theme to the Pink Panther and a few other things but that’s barely scratching the surface of his work, which spands from The Creature from the Black Lagoon all the way to concerto pieces, and a total of about a hundred recorded albums and soundtracks, not taking compositions into account.

Now it does include the soundtracks to Ghost Dad, Lifeforce or the Tom and Jerry Movie but hey, accidents happen.

Oh, byt the way, you know the theme of the Pink Panther. Obviously it’s on that record. And it’s not even the best track on it.

Yeah.

Mars Red Sky - S/t

Loud and slow guys from Bordeaux. Good stuff. It doesn’t stand out massively considering that’s how everyone has been playing since 2010 but it’s still very much worth listening if you are one of the many people out there who waits eagerly for Stoned Meadow of Doom to upload new stuff. And because I care, you can have their Bandcamp : https://marsredsky.bandcamp.com/ I also have their follow-up album Stranded in Arcadia, which is really not as good.

MC Hammer - you know what the fuck this is I don’t even need to comment

Meat Beat Manifesto - Storm the Studio

This is not an easy thing to describe. Picture Front 242 and Massive Attack but with a sense of humour. Or DJ Shadow 10 years before DJ Shadow.

It’s a very confusing listen but in a very, very good way. Some describe the guys as having come up with “industrial hip hop” before everyone else and without taking themselves too seriously in the process, which is quite the achievement.

Melt-Banana - Fetch

Hell

YES

I should get more Banana. I should get all of it. Cutest band to get to the OEF and somehow also the loudest. Go figure.

new album when?

pls

Midnight Oil - Countdown

No it does not have Beds are Burning. But it’s better than the album that has Beds are Burning on it.

If you can take being preached to for 35 minutes that is.

Janelle Monáe - The Archandroid

Man, remember the two years after this came out and every single prententious twat would not shut up about how this was the logical conclusion to “sci-fi in music and music in sci-fi”? I sure do. t’was fun to see people who hadn’t heard of Sun Ra go on and on about the imagery of the album ; or on the opposite end of the spectrum, people who dismiss Earth Wind & Fire as some lame disco band go one about the same thing.

Still, this is a good album. It’s just not the be-all-end-all it was made out to be. And it lead to the neverending dissapointment that is Monáe’s resolve to not actually finish the narrative she started with the Suites series because hey, that cow ain’t gonna milk itself. Until she decided to just give up and record Dirty Computer.

But hey, I guess that’s on me for being the only sucker who cared about what was going on.

I feel cheated, man.

[tinacentury]

Top 10 Songs

Thanks so much @fabulousrockstar for tagging me in this! I get very into any sort of Tumblr ask game, and, as I think is pretty obvious at this point, I can be quite wordy.

My musical tastes are...eclectic. I tend to jump between genres and eras (and sometimes languages), and have seen both Ingrid Michaelson and Jimmy Buffett in concert repeatedly. I love music with a lot of emotion but sometimes almost have to ration sad stuff with myself because I am VERY sensitive to emotional contagion from it (Really. I can barely listen to Adele.)

Given all that, here’s my list of favorite songs. They’re in no particular order, and the list would probably change depending on the day. And get excited(?), as I somehow managed to work an academic citation into one. 

-Starting Now by Ingrid Michaelson. Ingrid’s definitely in my Top 5 artists/bands, and while this is very much a break-up song that is thankfully not at all relevant to my life these days, it’s still one of my favorites of hers. 

-Whispers in the Dark by Mumford and Sons. Mumford's also in my Top 5 artists/bands, and I feel like this song has everything I love about them: the banjo, the beautiful imagery, the emotional build-up. It’s perfect, and I’m still not over them not playing it at the concert I went to last year. 

-Don’t Stop Believing by Journey. I know this is a cliche. But I have this thing where I’m convinced every time I hear this when I’m out somewhere (grocery store, bar, airport, literally anywhere), that it’s a sign from the universe that everything is going to be ok. I listened to it (and yes, sang along) before my Master’s thesis defense, before comps, and pretty much before any anxiety-provoking event. Which, to nerd out for a hot minute, research shows us that rituals can reduce anxiety before an anxiety-provoking event, as long as you believe that what you’re doing is a ritual https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S074959781630437X. The best, kind of mind-bending (for me, given my ritual) part of this study? They used singing Don’t Stop Believing to others as the anxiety-provoking event. 

-Mr. Rock & Roll Roll by Amy MacDonald. Amy’s up there with my favorite artists as well, and this song makes the list because of what it reminds me of. I was first introduced to Amy MacDonald when I was studying abroad 10 years ago, and remember downloading this cd in my grotty dorm room in the Netherlands. I distinctly remember taking a last walk around the canals, listening to this song on my iPod, and saying goodbye to the city. 

-We Didn’t Start the Fire by Billy Joel. Look, my bachelor’s is in history, and I focused on 20th century history. Name another song that references over 100 historical events from the 20th century. I’ll wait. 

-The second movement of Sergei Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in C minor, Op. 18. I don’t know much about piano concertos. Am I allowed to favorite just one part of one? I used to religiously follow figure skating in high school, so I have bits and pieces of classical music that I probably got off Limewire back then, and this is one of them. It’s beautiful, and tend to listen to it when I’m really really stressed out to calm myself down. 

-One Day More and the Finale from Les Miserables by Claude-Michel Schönberg. I could make a top 10 list of just Broadway songs, so I’m cheating and putting two in one here. This has everything--beautiful harmonies, powerful imagery, a call to arms, self-reflection, hope. Just, damn. 

-This is Me by Keala Settle and the cast of The Greatest Showman. This is one of the more recent songs on my list, and while I haven’t actually seen the Greatest Showman (it’s on my list), I’ve pretty much had this on repeat since February when all of the 2018 Olympic figure skating medalists skated to it together (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FOhrf1abnsY), and I’ve adopted it as a sort of personal anthem. 

-Rough Draft by Yellowcard. Ha, this song actually always reminds of me of my old days writing Sailor Moon fanfiction, both because of the title, and because  I used to sing along to it on the drive to high school. I actually think Yellowcard (RIP) is terribly underrated, and while this song doesn’t have their trademark electric violin, I still love it. 

-Your Hand in Mine by Explosions in the Sky. Oddly enough, I feel the emotional contagion thing I mentioned a lot with Explosions in the Sky. Their ability to convey emotion in instrumentals is just brilliant, and this is my favorite of theirs. Now I’m going to go lament Friday Night Lights being taken off of Netflix before I finished it. 

I’d like to tag @floraone, @uglygreenjacket, and @kasienda (only if you guys have time and are interested!) 

[stupidpianist]

27 october 2018

10:00: Shut off alarm, hit snooze. I set my phone’s snooze to ten minutes, I should probably lower it to five because of the frequency with which I “snooze”...

10:10: Shut off alarm again, put it to snooze.

10:20: Turned off all alarms until alarms at 11h. Got up and chugged giant glass of water from Brita.

10:21: Back in bed. Trying to sleep more, not ready to “start the day” yet.

10:40: Woke up from strange nightmare in which the world was experiencing an apocalypse, hard to remember exact details, remember being on an ark-like massive boat, trying to escape from some kind of antagonistic war force? Remember there being a corrupt leader. Almost 99% of my dreams are about banal things, like, literally Googling things and reading Wikipedia, the other 1% are always really dangerous apocalyptic or life-threatening situations in which I’m trying to save as many people as possible.

11:00: Shut off alarm, turned over to right side, went into “fetal position,” thought, “wow, this is comfortable, wow, this is so comfortable.”

11:30: Woke from another weird dream, dreamt that I was seeing the band Ghost perform in Montreal, only, the crowd was really diminutive, and most of the people in the audience were inexplicably not paying attention to the show at all. I was able to go right up to the stage. They played a few songs. I woke up. Weird. Going to get up now and clean my bathroom, it needs a “thorough scrubbing.”

11:31: Chugged another massive glass of water from Brita. So satisfying, one of the most satisfying things, waking, feeling dehydrated, taking glasses of water “to the face.” Mm. Yum.

11:32: Cleaning bathroom. Have probably super-harmful-to-environment chemical thing that is used to scrub porcelain surfaces. Have my “trusty,” “handy dandy” cleaning sponge. Have paper towels. First scrubbing tub, it’s gotten so grimy, wow… I remember when I used to work in a local ice cream parlor in my town, and one of my favourite things to do would be to mop the floors. The other employees and managers found this really weird, always said, like, “nobody wants to mop the floors,” but I always explained that it was one of the few activities that you could see the 1:1 results of your efforts immediately after doing it, and so I found it really really satisfying. Feeling the same way right now, scrubbing the tub, seeing all the muck and filth wash away with every little sponge motion.

Moving onto the sink now, first have to clear everything off of it. Electric toothbrush, check. Plastic comb, check. Gatsby hair product thing, check (when Phoebe came to use my wifi she was like, “of course you use Gatsby,” and I thought “oh crap, I’ve been ‘caught,’ I’ve been ‘pigeonholed’”). Toothpaste, check. Razor, check. Scrubbing sink now, scrubbing hard, scrubbing efficiently. This chemical stuff really “works wonders,” there must be some seriously bad stuff in here… Should I be using gloves? I don’t have sensitive skin, I’ve never really had problems with… With chemicals and my hands? I don’t know, seems like I should be using gloves right now.

11:43: Okay, deep-clean scrub finished, going to shower now, been looking forward to showering since last night. Don’t know why, I shower every day? I don’t know, maybe it’s from excitement that I’m, like, “preparing for the night,” going to meet up with person I met for drinks with a few nights ago this evening, extremely excited to do this, so, like, the shower is, like, propelling me into the day? Which gets me closer to the evening? I don’t know I DON’T KNOW I’m just trying to say I’m really hyped for this shower, okay? Going to put on some sweetass shower music. I got the best shower tunes, hit me up if you want the “sickest, dopest” shower playlists. I can curate them to your specific genre or BPM preferences. Just let me know, “drop me a line.”

11:48: Putting on clothes now. Going to “throw on” my “edgy pants,” and a thermal top, and “FUNERAL” hoodie, and Walnut Hill jacket. “Standard attire,” heheh. Wondering if I should also wear my raincoat? It’s supposed to rain steadily this evening, but I don’t want to be, like, sweating… I also don’t really mind the rain, it’s just water, it’s really not that big of a deal, it’s just like, you’re wet, so what? I’ll just bring my super crappy umbrella with me, that should be enough to mitigate any “water damage” my body could take. Read in Disaster Artist yesterday that Tommy had a daily routine of drinking five Red Bulls. Reminds me of me in middle school. “Fiending for” a Red Bull today, really “jonesing” for one, going to put some change in my pocket and grab one from a dep on my way to school.

12:00: Backpack: PACKED. Wallet: IN POCKET. Keys? I GOT THOSE TOO, BABY. Going to head to school and update this liveblog, and then practice piano for however many hours my brain lets me. Not sure what kind of “piano vibes” I’m getting today, but I hope it’ll be good?? Have also been putting off listening to Daniil Trifonov’s newest album, it’s Rachmaninov’s second and fourth concerti, and some Bach transcriptions. I really don’t like the fourth concerto, and I only sometimes like the second, even though I was super obsessed with it when I was younger, in my early-and-mid teens. Remember texting one of my friends, someone I feel more fondly towards than almost any of my friends, Alex, how long it took him to learn the first movement of the second concerto, just as a baseline so I could compare my own timeline and see if I was “on par” with how good at learning new pieces I wanted to be, and he told me he learned it in something ridiculous like one afternoon. He’s one of the most self-determined people I’ve ever met, maybe the most self-determined, miss him a lot. Should send him a message, why haven’t I done that...

Sorry sorry yeah so I’m going to take some time too and listen to the album in the practice rooms. Will probably/inevitably give me more practicing motivation. I am a huge fan of Trifonov. Will let you people know how the album is.

16:25: Packing up my piano books. Hey hey hey! Hi hi hi! What’s up YouTube!! If you’re wondering how the practicing went, it was… Satisfactory. I started warming up with some Schubert, his last sonata, and promptly started like sobbing uncontrollably. Can never seem to make it more than a few pages in before this always happens. Played through the first movement and second movement, no repeat in the first just to “save time” as I intended it to be a warm up, and created a pretty substantial pool of tears on the practice room floor by the time I was done. How the heck does anyone practice pieces like this without becoming a giant mess of tears?? Dissociate? I don’t know.

Felt really really good to play through it, though; one of my favourite pieces that I love the more and more I work on it. I thought I sounded really good in the Schubert, so I moved to Alkan, which was substantially worse. Felt like I had really heavy brain fog, like, a dense miasma of brain fog. Was able to play, but felt distinct disconnection between what my hands were doing, and what my head was thinking. I really hate that sensation, when you don’t feel in control of what you’re playing, so I switched to Thalberg, which was a bit better, but really just felt off. Played it through and did a little passage work before turning to Beethoven, opus 110, another one of my favourite sonatas, and my favourite Beethoven sonata by a long shot. After working on this pretty intensely I was like, okay, so you practiced for an okay amount of time, four hours or so, and even though you didn’t sound good, or feel good, you still did work, and you still put in effort.

Haven’t gotten groceries in a long time, going to head to Provigo to get supplies for massive Greek salad and pasta, here’s what I’m gonna get:

-bell peppers

-cherry tomatoes

-english cucumber

-lemon

-kalamata olives

-dill (maybe, if i want to “splurge”)

-red onion

-feta cheesee

-pasta sauce (i’m lazy i don’t wanna make it myself don’t judge me okay)

-mushrooms

Have the rest of the ingredients like dry pasta and stuff for Greek salad dressing at home. Gonna try and “beat the rain,” too.

16:45: Success in the grocery store. Also ended up buying a large scented candle as a bit of an impulse purchase; I really like things that create pleasant/comfy/cozy scents, and my Airwick thing I plug into my wall ran out of oil, and I don’t have any more incense, so I was like, “yeah, my mom loves scented candles, I love scented candles, let’s get a scented candle, yes.” Chose “Cashmere Woods” scent. It’s brownish in colour. Hope it smells as good as the name implies, one can never tell just by pure sniffing of the unmelted wax… Very… distrustful… Oh, oh! Also got bananas. Need some breakfast food that I can take and run out of the door.

16:56: Home. Going to unpack groceries and then read more of the Disaster Artist in bed, I think. Will also catch up on some YouTube tech videos. Feeling like a real nerd right now.

16:59: Got a Facebook message from the person I’m seeing again tonight!!! Okay so we’re going to meet at 22h, that gives me enough time to be productive before then, getting really cozy in bed, “settling in” for a nice read. Heheh. Ho ho ho. Something about “hehe” is just so funny to me, I still can’t place why, can any of you help explain it to me?

18:13: Got through a whole slew of tech videos, a whole mess of tech videos. Was just starting to read Disaster Artist when I heard the notification sound from my speakers hooked up to my laptop on my esk that notifies me when my younger brother signs into Overwatch. “Chatted him up” and he said he could play A FEW ROUNDS. MULTIPLE. Do you people realize how huge this is?! Usually he just has time for one! Maybe it’s because he has a long weekend? Monday for him is a teacher’s day or something, so he gets it off. Either way, here we go!!!!

19:37: Wow those were some INTENSE games. Played tank for some of it, then DPS for most of it. Haven’t actually played Tracer in so long, I used to main her so hard. Still my favourite champion to play alongside Junkrat. We played pretty well, won most of our rounds, wow, my adrenaline is so pumped up from that, can’t believe it’s been over an hour?! Holy heck that flew by. Brother going to eat dinner now, recommended that I make greek salad. Will probably do that, or maybe go for a run?? I don’t know, I’ve been so physically inactive the past week, I feel like a slug, I should at least do SOMETHING.

20:08: Yeah my adrenaline is pumping way too hard. This always happens, as a kid even if I was just having a “playdate” with a friend, I would get so so so, uh, not anxious, but like overly excited? Manic? That I literally couldn’t focus on anything or sit still, so I’d just run around doing menial activities while sweating through my palms profusely and just feeling a huge tightness in my chest. This still happens to me, but not as strongly, I think?? Unless I’m super excited to see someone, which I am tonight?? I need to “burn off some steam,” think I’m going to go on an intense bike ride, okay, see you guys soon, yes yes YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES

20:13: CHRIST ON A CRACKER I forgot it’s raining now!!! OH NO HOW AM I GONNA crap crap I don’t have a flipping fender for my bike so if I go biking I’m gonna get soaked crap crap crap maybe I’ll just take a walk and blast music?? Yeah that’s feasible, won’t get too “wet” from that it’s gonna be great, I’ll do that, okay!!!! Just “thinking out loud,” here, folks, move along, nothing to see here, nothing at all.

20:41: Back from walk. Was really nice, rocked out to some Ghost (Rats, Con Clavi Con Dio, Cirice, Faith, in that order, I think?) and just chose some side streets off of Saint Laurent. Picked up a “quille” of 10.1% Labatt that the person mentioned wanting to get after she taught me the Quebec slang for those 1.17L, or 40oz dirt cheap big bottles of beer. Can’t call them 40s here, different system of measurement, can now call them quille. Seems astounding it took me this long to learn the term for it. Also got some Unibroue beers to “balance out” the pond scum that is 10.1 Labatt, even though it seems like my best friends here and I all concur that 10.1 Labatt is strangely delicious? Like we’d voluntarily, and do voluntarily drink it. Ooh, and some Powerade, lemon-lime flavour, my favourite. I’ve always preferred Powerade to Gatorade in terms of taste for as long as I can remember. You may be asking, “George, that’s a lot of liquids, why did you even get the Powerade, that’s just sugar water.” You’re right, but I just got my pay stubs from the last two weeks so I know how much I made so I was like, “you can go crazy, it’s the weekend before Halloween, do it, loser.” And you know what??? I DID IT. Going to eat a turkey sandwich now. Internal monologue repeating, “a nicely stocked fridge means a nicely stocked mind.” Hehe. Eheheheh.

[thatmew]

Hey :b:att, what's your opinion on Fugue of the Battlefield?

Well, to say it was a bit of a shocker to come back from my trip and receive the news is a bit of an understatement!

I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that it actually exists and my mind’s kind of going a mile a minute trying to think about how it’s going to be.

I have a strong suspicion that this is not specifically Strelka Stories based on what little we’ve been told (Most notably the fact that they are still working on the story itself, whereas Strelka Stories was announced all the way back in 2010, very shortly after Solatorobo’s Japanese release).  Solatorobo had been dramatically rewritten and reimagined several times before the final story was conceived, going from a direct Tail Concerto sequel to what we have now.

I remember a very interesting quote from Hiroshi Matsuyama regarding Strelka Stories’ target demographic:

“Solatorobo was set in an imaginary scientific world, which targets the current generation of boys and girls. The content for this one [Strelka] will target ‘Adults who were once youths.’ I believe those who like Gurren Lagann and Evangelion will enjoy it. We actually didn’t get approval of the project from a client or publisher. It’s a title that we started because we wanted to make it.”

So whether I’m right or wrong about Fugue being resurrected from Strelka Stories’ initial concept, I have a strong feeling that the darker tone will remain the same.  I hope it does, in any case.  I would love a more adult-oriented game in this universe.  I also hope that this means the game will be a lot less hand holding than Solatorobo was and that we’ll see some good challenges in it.

Not sure exactly what to think about the SRPG, shooter, and rogue elements.  I think I’ll need to know more about it before I really give my opinion but if this is going to be something akin to Final Fantasy Tactics in the LTB universe than I’m all for it.  Or it could be something totally unique like Silent Bomber.  I trust CC2 in this regard, in any case.

Regardless, I’m absolutely positive that this is Little Tail Bronx 3, with the title being the biggest clue (Tail Concerto, Solatorobo: And then to CODA, Fugue of the Battlefield).  For this reason I’ve always been disappointed that Solatorobo’s subtitle got needlessly changed to the incredibly generic “Red the Hunter” for its English translation as the musical connection between the now three titles will be lost.  In any case before I get sidetracked, I think we’ll be seeing this one on a major console and not another mobile game like Little Tail Story.

Another educated guess I’m making as far as the plot goes is that, despite being in the Little Tail Bronx universe, it won’t take place in the same time as Tail Concerto and Solatorobo did, and I believe the chances of seeing any returning characters to be very small.  I can’t remember where or when I said this but I’ve always wanted to see a Lunar 2-esque entry in the series that takes place far off into the world’s future.  That’s just my desire, though, so who knows, really.  I’m confident the game will be great when it comes out.  Here’s hoping it doesn’t take another 10 years.  I hope we hear more about it soon!

[dweemeister]

Best Documentary Short Film Nominees for the 93rd Academy Awards (2021, listed in order of appearance in the shorts package)

NOTE: For viewers in the United States (continental U.S., Alaska, and Hawai’i) who would like to watch the Oscar-nominated short film packages, click here. For virtual cinemas, you can purchase the packages individually or all three at once. You can find info about reopened theaters that are playing the packages in that link. Because moviegoing carries risks at this time, please remember to follow health and safety guidelines as outlined by your local, regional, and national health guidelines.

A Love Song for Latasha (2019)

On March 16, 1991, Latasha Harlins, a 15-year-old African-American girl, was murdered by Soon Ja Du at Du’s convenience store in Los Angeles. The murder, which occurred almost two weeks after Rodney King’s beating at the hands of the Los Angeles Police Department (LAPD), contributed to the start of the 1992 LA riots one year later. Directed by Sophia Nahli Allison, A Love Song for Latasha is an avant grade film that intercuts statements by Latasha’s friends and family about the young girl they cared deeply for. Alongside reenacted scenes of childhood, of black girls frolicking on the Californian coastline and the streets of Los Angeles, the film serves as an intimate eulogy for Latasha – one delivered as memories about her become less immediate.

Whatever justified rage the Los Angeles rioters might have felt in 1992 is not the dominant force in Allison’s film. A Love Song for Latasha is foremost a cinematic lament rather than a political polemic. With the reenacted scenes edited and appearing as if it resembling a home movie, this piece appears like a visualization of the memories that the interviewees are recalling. When Latasha was murdered, she ceased to be just a daughter or a friend. A Love Song for Latasha, thirty years on, seeks to reclaim those distinctions for those who knew her best – something, given the significance of Latasha’s murder in history, that may never happen.

My rating: 6.5/10

Do Not Split (2020, Norway)

From Norwegian documentarian-journalist Anders Hammer comes Do Not Split, a street-level glimpse into the protests against the 2019 Extradition Law Amendment Bill (ELAB) that inspired the passage of the 2020 Hong Kong national security law. The events depicted in Hammer’s film include the Hong Kong police’s sieges of the Chinese University of Hong Kong (CUHK) and Hong Kong Polytechnic University, in addition to small-scale clashes between protesters and police, as well as mainland Chinese instigating confrontations. Hammer’s footage is harrowing material, a collection of violent imagery with few moments of individual revelation or introspection outside of the presence of Michigan-born activist Joey Siu. Do Not Split decides not to attempt a dialectic of why the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and the Hong Kong Legislative Council (LegCo) are pursuing these changes and are brutalizing the protesters, depriving this film of the context that less knowledgeable viewers might need. For those who have been keeping at least superficially aware of events in Hong Kong, there is never any question on which side Hammer is on – despite Hammer’s journalistic background, this is not a piece of objective journalism.

Yet this is not agitprop due to the politics left mostly unexplained, and none of Do Not Split’s flaws take away from the rawness of the protesters’ desperation and the cynicism of the police and government officials enacting the crackdown. Despite the repetitive nature of the footage by the time it reaches the final stages of its thirty-five-minute runtime, Do Not Split contains excellent, crisp hand-held footage that makes immediate sense of the space and time of the depicted violence.

My rating: 8/10

Hunger Ward (2020)

For Pluto TV (some cord-cutting television service I was not familiar with until I started writing this) and MTV Films and directed by Skye Fitzgerald (2018 Oscar-nominated short film Lifeboat), Hunger Ward follows doctor Aida Al-sadeeq and nurse Mekkia Mahdi as they treat malnourished children in the midst of ongoing the Yemeni famine. The famine, directly related to the civil war that began in late 2014, has seen almost a hundred thousand children die in what UNICEF describes as, “the largest humanitarian crisis in the world.” Fitzgerald film works best when focusing on Al-sadeeq and Mahdi, as they describe the heartbreak conditions of the hunger ward and their experiences since the famine began. However, much of Hunger Ward’s footage is too in-your-face with footage of the mothers’ grieving and the last moments of several children. It appears almost as if gawking at the desperation and death that occurs every day in this hospital.

This is not to say that there is no revelation in the image of a child with their eyes glazed in lifelessness or the unearthly wails of a mother overtaken by grief. Fitzgerald edits and shoots their film in a way that makes this process – a child in their last moments of care, a declaration of death, a shot of the child’s corpse, a cut to the mother inside or arriving to the deathbed, and the echoing despair – occur tediously in their movie. Hunger Ward never breaks from this tedious formula. The film is redeemed only by withholding its slings and arrows until some text prior to the end credits, correctly assigning responsibility with Western nations that have enabled and abetted the violence in Yemen.

My rating: 6/10

Colette (2020)

Colette Marin-Catherine is in her twilight years and, upon first appearances, one might not predict the incredible life story that she has to tell. She was a French Resistance member, and French Resistance narratives tend to be sidelined in favor of those depicting Allied soldiers liberating France instead. But Anthony Giacchino’s (the brother of composer Michael Giacchino) film, distributed by British newspaper The Guardian and made for an extra feature of the virtual reality (VR) video game Medal of Honor: Above and Beyond, decides to linger on the memories of Colette’s murdered brother, who died at Mittelbau-Dora concentration camp in Germany, instead. At the urging and with the assistance of the young historian Lucie Fouble, who is interested in telling Colette’s story (although technically this is not Colette’s story), Colette travels to Germany to visit the site of Mittelbau-Dora so that Colette can… spill out her feelings?         

It is self-evident that Colette does not see the academic or personal value of such a trip, but the irascible subject of this short film will nevertheless humor Fouble – her intentions genuine, her approach questionable. Colette, who cannot forget the loss of brother but has not been dwelling on his death, is emotionally vulnerable throughout the trip to Germany, and the audience learns little about Colette, German atrocities, or her brother. Even in these moments, she remains a compelling figure on-screen, but this movie is a disservice to its eponymous subject – one who deserves more credit as a member of the French Resistance, as someone not defined by the worst thing that had ever happened to her.

My rating: 6/10

A Concerto Is a Conversation (2020)

Distributed by The New York Times and executive produced by Ava DuVernay, Ben Proudfoot and Kris Bower direct a deeply personal documentary short film to bookend this slate of five. A Concerto Is a Conversation contains a conversation between Kris Bowers (composer on 2018’s Green Book and 2021’s The United States vs. Billie Holiday) and his grandfather, Horace Bowers Sr., before the premiere of Bower’s concerto at the Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles. What follows is a disjointed film with sketches of Jim Crow-era America from Horace’s past to the anxiety-laden self-questioning of Kris’ present. Kris, as a black man, is questioning his place in the classical music world – which has, justifiably in some ways, been seen as staid and white. If A Concerto Is Not a Conversation can bridge the differences between Horace and Kris’ stories, it barely does so thank to the scattershot editing.

Yet Kris and Horace’s conversation is wholesome, admiring, loving. This is Kris’ way to show his appreciation for his grandfather and the struggles that he endured for most of his life. The out-of-focus background makes A Concerto Is Not a Conversation seem almost like a dream, a meeting that almost should not be happening. And in honoring Kris’ profession and the piece that is set to debut, the film is divided into noticeable thirds – just like a concerto’s three movements. A Concerto Is Not a Conversation might not make for the most cohesive viewing, but it is a celebration of a profound bond, tied together by forces that defy even the most eloquent words: music and love.

My rating: 6.5/10

^ All ratings based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

From previous years: 88th Academy Awards (2016), 89th (2017), 90th (2018), 91st (2019) and 92nd (2020).

[unmeanings]

JEAH

TWO HOURS PRIOR

( TXT / Jeyun ) “Your best suit is at the dry cleaner’s” ( TXT / Jeyun ) That one was from Mom ( TXT / Jeyun ) “I’m already home and I’m not fetching your clothes, so figure it out like the big kid you are now” ( TXT / Jeyun ) That one’s from me. Don’t be late 👋

NOW

She’s chasing time, if not by her limbs, then by the way her eyes dart from the hands of the antique cherry grandfather clock in the foyer to her lap and back again. There could be metaphors of perpetual restlessness here, spun pretty to the imagery of beating wings, a blur of dove feathers and whatever else. But there’s nothing inherently lovely about her deep lack of patience, which only ever keeps Jeah on the constant edge of her seat, nude ankle strap heels tap-tap-tapping against the tiles.

Tonight’s game plan: a clean sweep of handshakes, backhanded compliments, handed off flutes of bubbly before it’s hand over hand at the wheel with the car driving the hell out of there. Funny to think back she’d been of the belief that these gatherings would be the last of her troubles, only to find they’re at the very forefront.

With the baby to thank for all of this, naturally.

Heavy lies the head that wears the crown, or something. In other words, responsibilities that most certainly don’t count in her track record.

The whine of the door hinges has Jeah standing, the sigh that escapes her lips something along the lines of Finally. “Awesome.” She grabs the keys and her purse. “Kim’s off for tonight, so it’s on us to get there.” Pause, curious glance over her shoulder. “You got everything?”

JEYUN

( Outgoing → Noona ) Thanks ( Outgoing → Noona ) I’ll see you in a bit

Jeyun is the disciple and fifteen minutes is the monkish chant cycling in his head. Fifteen minutes. He clasps onto a handle on the bullet train. Fifteen minutes is all he needs to get a suit on his person and get his person out the door. He swipes out of the underground. If he arrives home at seven thirty and they leave at seven forty-five they will make it to the venue fifteen minutes before eight thirty. He steps off the escalators and onto the sidewalk just as the sun is beginning to set. It looks beautiful today, shining onto the glass doors of the dry cleaner’s in feathered cuts of silver.

He exchanges receipt for hanger and with suit folded neatly over forearm he walks the full five blocks back to the family apartment, each leggy stride longer than the next. He is greeted with exasperation, but there’s no reason for it. He’s fifteen minutes early.

Still, one can’t afford to dally. “Whoop,” he zips past her small frame and makes a beeline for the bathroom, but the hallway is narrow and his attempt ends up clumsy at best. “I’ll be right out!” Jeyun calls, his voice and frenzied disrobing muffled behind oak.

The baby reemerges, trail of cologne following him like a halo, into the foyer where Jeah waits with lips pressed into a thin line. He slips into the calf leather derbies she’s laid out for him at the door with a sheepish smile, “Sorry, you were saying—” and looks down to the crown of her head as she gathers the keys. There’s a piece of lint by her ear. He picks it off and keeps it between his fingers so he can dispose of it outside. “—joyride?”

Like every time before it, the joke earns him a chilly wave of the hand.

—

The family vehicle’s passenger seat is, at this point, perfectly molded to his sitting form. This too, is part of his fate as the youngest. But there’s another perk—he rests a hand on the volume knob and with one tweak Elgar in E is coursing through every material surface of the car. He pays no mind to his sister. With his other hand, Jeyun browses through texts to confirm the address and inspect the first few restaurant reviews.

“Japanese? Didn’t we do kaiseki last time, too?” He scrolls further down. “Ooh, on second thought. Egg walnut tamagoyaki for dessert. Fall offerings are the best, aren’t they…”

JEAH

Clocking in a little after eight o’ clock, traffic has lightened up significantly.  At a red light, her grip loosens from the wheel and the turn signal is left blinking, fingers drumming idly in wait. This particular concerto conjures memories from the summer of ‘37. Sixteen, sullen, and suffering because of those god-awful scales, and finishing solid in second place. The 2015 Garavaglia is sitting in the corner of her old bedroom, virtually untouched since high school graduation. Selling it? Out of the question.

The light flicks green and the car slows back into motion. “Did we?” With Jeyun’s impeccable habit of tracking minute details, chances are he’s right. And after a good minute, she says, “Oh. Well. All I remember is the sake.” Junmai-shu flooding over her tongue by the cup as it’d been passed over talk of inter-generational politics, nostalgia beyond her years, and the plight of current economy. Big talk for big people, with the matching shoes to step into. "Think it’d kill them to do fusion for a change?”

An afterthought: it actually just might. Guess you can never be too careful with the conservative type at these things.

They veer to the rightmost lane. The digits on the dashboard flip to 8:10. According to the GPS screen underneath, their destination is the second to last building, straight down. “At least I can count on you to spice up the menu when you become head honcho or whatever.” She grins, and there’s that characteristic glint in her eye. “Matter of fact, that should be your first course of business.”

JEYUN

Jeyun had played accompaniment for her, of course—his sister’s trusty steed, finely trained and black coat of fur thick with pomade and brushed back just so. He likes to think that the reason for Jeah’s drop to second that summer had been a result of his absence, as her finger slipped on one of the cadenza’s double stops. However smug the recollection may make him now, his heart had nearly dropped out of his body then. Du Pré moans and groans through the speakers. “You were better,” Jeyun looks straight ahead. “Than first. Choi something.” Choi Kyungil. Current principal cellist of the Berlin Philharmonic. Not that Jeyun was ever the sort of person to search for a person’s whereabouts out of sheer pettiness and over a decade after the fact. “Maybe even better than Jacqueline.” He turns the volume knob up.

“We did,” Jeyun nods. “I’ll have to learn from your example this time around.” Not the drinking part. “And keep myself to a steady nibble.” There’d been so many courses over the course of three hours that he’d barely made it to the okayu without falling backwards for a digestive snooze. Just conjuring up the image of a bowl of porridge is enough to get him queasy and he winces at the possibility of it appearing again on tonight’s offerings. “If it doesn’t kill them then it might kill me,” he says with a bitter laugh. Some years ago a craving for sea urchin had backfired horribly and he’d never been able to look at another risotto the same way ever since. Perhaps all rice dishes had a personal score to settle with him. He should have never let that pot go unattended all those years ago.

The vehicle slows, approaching the valet at the back of the restaurant. A cheery bucktoothed attendant comes to take their place and Jeyun hands him a few of his crispiest bills, ironed last week. He waits for Jeah to join him at the curbside and they round the corner to the front. “You have a point.” Jeyun grins. It’s a known fact at the Oh’s that dad doesn’t have the most refined of palates—courtesy of his outer city upbringing. “I’ll make sure it’s the spiciest so you won’t have any excuses to skip.” They step through the courtyard, greenery abundant and fragrance potent. Then through the first set of doors, wide open. The next set of doors slides quickly open and the proprietress is already there folded over ninety-degrees.

“Ha, ha. Excellent word play, sis.” He steps a slight ways in front of Jeah before the woman leads them past a maze of corridors to their room. It’s something he’s tried to get used to doing but it still feels unnatural and he’s certain Jeah has noticed every time. “I’m sure there will be more pressing things calling for my attention when the time comes.” He lifts his wrist. 8:15 on the dot. Fifteen minutes early. “Things like, how to redecorate the house. Or who to hire to take our Christmas card photo. Unless you’d like to take those responsibilities head on instead.”

JEAH

“You remember his name.” It’s a statement, not a question, complete with the knowing lift of her voice. Half in the sheer perceptibility of Jeyun’s habits, half at how she’s never forgotten herself:

Choi Kyungil.

Even if she closes her eyes and recalls his face now, all there is to see is the cross hair framed perfectly over his side profile. Standing ten feet away with a bouquet of deep red roses and the first place emblem, and the single thought that snaked around the folds of her brain was what if? She’d never held a gun in her entire life, and still hasn’t, but the press of retribution on her hands had been the closest she’d ever gotten to the feeling. Just as cold. Maybe even just as satisfying.

It runs in the family, after all.

Jeah only laughs at his remark. “I don’t think Jackie would appreciate that at all.” The music is cut short. “Dead for over fifty years, and her legacy’s still kickin’.” Pulling the keys out of the ignition, she steps out to hand them to the attendant. “If that isn’t something, I don’t know what is.”

Upon entering, they’re greeted with the scent of jasmine. The establishment is pristine. Lush plants encircle a stone fountain that sits at the center. All details absorbed with vague interest.

Jeah turns to the sight of Jeyun’s back, and is suddenly reminded of a second memory. She’d only been eight then, sitting in their parents’ bedroom. Mom had just clasped a string of pearls around her neck. Dad was pulling on his suit jacket. When they’d been about to exit the room, her mother had placed a hand on the back of his shoulder, and he’d straightened under her touch. By the time she began to do the same to the eldest, herself, and the youngest, Jeah finally understood. The significance of the single, plain gesture.

So she does it in her place: as Jeyun steps in front, a reminder. Hold your head high. Jeah’s hand returns to her side just as promptly as it’d left it, and they walk on.

Inside, the table is set. She takes her place near one of the ends. Fifteen minutes to kill. “You know I’d be the first person to stop the Christmas card thing. Mom would hate me for it.”

A pause, as she ponders the weight of her question. “Who would we send them to, anyway?”

JEYUN

The two acclimate quickly to their surroundings, shedding their coats and handing them off to the hunched proprietress, who murmurs demurely if the lady and sir will have anything to drink while they wait for the rest of their party to arrive. Any gyokuro will do please and thank you, Jeyun hums, and with a delicate shuffling of her feet she is gone as if never there.

Jeyun’s claims the seat across from his sister and at the opposite end of the table, slinging his scarf over the backing of the chair. Build your own presence instead of relying on the collective. Emanate it as far as it will go, until it permeates every corner of the room.

The woman returns with a sizable kettle, glazed shiboridashi, and two thinly thrown teacups on a tray. She pours silently, systematically, and slips out. The fountain just outside their window bubbles on, flow of water gliding down rocks smoothed by years both kind and unkind. Warm in his hands, he gives one of the thimble cups to his sister and gives it an unceremonious clink. The most intentional of cultural blunders to be sure, but no one else has to know.

He lifts the cup to his lips. The broth is pleasingly vibrant and sweet, like taking a stroll through a rainforest. “I thought you might look at it differently. Oh Jeah’s first foray into art direction. It’s only a matter of time.” She’d proved herself as the Oh’s representative visionary based on doodles from childhood. She’d upheld her status at her senior thesis show five years ago. Her decision to venture into law had been something of a curveball—whether she’d done it for herself or with the family in mind, he’d yet to home in on.

“Mom’s got a lock on her contact book. We’d have to pry it out of her own hands first.” He laughs. It’s on the tip of his tongue to list off uncles and aunties and their grandmother who is always the first to call once she’s received her card, gushing about Jeah’s beauty resplendent before she catches herself halfway and states—voice neutralizing to its original contralto—how she couldn’t help but notice Jeah isn’t getting any taller.

No, halmae. She’s twenty-seven this year. Even if her face, unblemished and skin stretched taut and firm, hardly betrays it, her time’s passed. Jeyun unconsciously places two fingers to the patch of skin beneath his left eye. The loose puffiness there is sobering. They’re trudging onward in other ways.

“I’m terrible.” Jeyun says instead. “I can’t think of anyone other than Kyunghoon and Jinwoo. And it’s only because they came to me this morning with news of their engagement. Which is finally a thing, by the way.” Everyone else is a convenient, gray-streaked blur. Lost in a soup of fortissimos, debts, and headcounts.

“Still, I’m not sure anyone actually likes receiving them. At their core they’re just disguised opportunities for moms to boast about their kids, right? Be it in the quality of the photo or the content of the letter. This year our boy James graduated from middle school. He will be attending Daewon in the spring and we wish him all the success in the world! Congrats, James! Or, Chaerin is doing great in her acting career. She filmed in Peru in June and Prague in July! She’s becoming more well-traveled than this old dog!” He frowns. “Come to think of it. What did mom say about us last year? I didn’t get a chance to see before she sent them all out. It couldn’t have been anything remotely interesting.”

JEAH

The cup is held firm between her thumb and pointer, but she doesn’t raise it to taste yet. Under the light, the color of the brew is true to the namesake. From the aroma alone, she’s melting through the seasons quick: March frost receding for fresh, new pastures. Spring just can’t come soon enough.

“Real funny, Jeyun.” He manages to coax an amused look out of her all the same. "Different themes, maybe? With a bit of practice and some sideburns, Dad could have the Scrooge look down to a tee.“ A step up from their usual fanfare: for as long as Jeah can remember, the cards have always came out nearly identical to the ones from the year before it. The same positioning before their ornament-studded Christmas tree, standing tall and poised in their long sleeve knee-length velvet dresses and chunky cashmere sweaters in variations of cardinal red and evergreen. They’re all smiling, or trying to, at least—the photo revealing various degrees of tight-lipped discomfort save for (of course), Mom. Everlasting it seems, in her serene, elegant glow.

"She’s going to do it for as long as she can.” Jeah finally holds up her tea with a sigh. “Upholding tradition and all.” There’s no pause to savor the notes—a turn of the head, and the cup returns to the tray empty. It’s a daunting, but irreversible thought: them growing older, their parents old. Briefly, she wonders if the third person gone without mention goes through the same morning ritual that she does. Waking up to look yourself dead in the eye, and in that slit of startling disconnect between slumber and clarity, you really aren’t you.

But that’s a given in a way, isn’t it?

“Oh wow.” Some good news for a change. “After all that circling around each other, huh?” she chuckles. “There’s Soobin with her new baby too, but I only know that ‘cause Mom told me.” Pretending to know any more beyond that point is a lost cause, one Jeah certainly has no qualms over. Soon they will reach a point in their own lives where the family tree is no longer recognizable, with themselves as the two last branches dangling in the breeze, waiting for the fall. Gruesome. No wonder why Mom wouldn’t let her take on the job.

She resorts to toying with the empty cup. As Jeyun carries on, she can’t help but pick up on the pattern in all of his examples. “You can't possibly be jealous.” A certain playfulness colors her tone, complete with the lifting of the corners of her mouth. Still the baby, ever the baby. The cup is set back down again. "Since you can’t remember, Mom wrote about how she was so happy to have you back home.“ Home: something that spells out another sort of promise.

The sound of approaching footsteps signals the time: 15 minutes up, and this leg of their conversation folds to a close.

Jeah straightens up, parallel to the back of the chair. She takes stock, and the number of heads she ends up with is not a pleasant discovery.

“Hell of a night this’ll be.” She slowly stands to bow in greeting.

Hell of a night indeed.

[theartstew]

March’s Steward Collectable Card, Anya Campbell

Anya Campbell 

Fearless Maker

Anya finally learned that the secret to progress is saying yes to projects she was scared to try. Now she revels in the tingling sensation of creative fear.

Instagram: @somedaymaker

Location: Ashland, VA

Mediums: Sound is her main medium, as well as fiber arts.

Favorite Quote: “How you spend your days is, of course, how you spend your life.”—Annie Dillard

Get To Know Anya

Anya Campbell is a very old friend of mine and once I saw she was creating and making on Instagram, I immediately invited her to the Stew. Anya was sharing a lot of her fiber arts there BUT I also knew she had a lot to say with her voice. Her perspective on the *magic* creating brings to your everyday is something I knew the Stewards would really appreciate SO I organized an interview with her for the Art Stew 52 Podcast. That was way back at Ep. 4, MAKING ART-MAGIC with ART-MUGGLES. (If you missed it and would like to get to know the artist behind the Steward card a little better, have a listen.)

I especially knew I must feature her on a Steward Card when she willingly composed a jingle for the Patreon Stewsletter Podcast. You can have another listen, here.

A Gift to You from Anya

(Each of these blogs will include some kind of treat from the featured Steward and for this one Anya is sharing yet another lovely perspective I know you will find encouraging on how to live more fully as an artist.)

How To Change Your Life in 10 Minutes

(A crispy sampling of common sense, served up on mod-fusion small plates!)

Maybe my favorite author of all time (at least for invigorating inspiration) is an educator from Great Britain who lived over 100 years ago. Her name is Charlotte Mason, and she’s been posthumously kicking my rear for the past few years, as I slowly underline my way through her 6 volumes. She talks about habits a lot; how almost all of what we do in a day is habitual to the point of not even being aware of it (ie: brushing our teeth, or drinking water, or not drinking enough water).

“A habit is 10 natures.”  -- What we purposefully do to the point of it becoming habit is far, far, far (and 7 more fars) stronger than our natural bent.  And there’s no start too small, which sounds partly inspirational, but is true, too!  It means the statement, “I suck at lettering.”,  or “I’m so disorganized.”, or “I’m not a math person.”, or anything else you can think to plug in here can be changed -- with nothing more than a bit of gumption and a timer.

Further, if we don’t purposely develop habits, we’re more likely to be pulled around by whims and circumstances, rather than taking baby steps toward fulfilling our goals.

Haha, so now you know I’m not a motivational guru -- but for real, guys, this idea of taking a few minutes of purposeful, careful, thoughtful (and all the other adjectives that also mean the same thing) time toward something --- and I’m talking 10 to 15 minutes a day --- can change, not only your perception of yourself, but your actual ability. Here’s how, in 4 steps!

Make a (very) short list of one change that you’d like to see in yourself or your life in the next month. Please be on your own team, be friendly, and be realistic -- so don’t write “be debt free” or “run a 4 minute mile” or “learn to play Mozart D Major violin concerto” -- but opt for things you’ll succeed in, like “practice lettering,” “take 5 deep breaths of fresh air every day,” “read at least 2 pages of a book every day,” “clean the kitchen,” etc.

Minimize distractions and disruptions. Put your phone in a drawer. Turn off the TV. Purposeful work is absolutely key to making new habits.

Set the timer for 10 or 15 minutes. (I got a sweet Casio watch on clearance for $5. It has a built-in timer and I literally never work without it. I love it so much that I’ll share the Amazon link below. In the event of no sweet Casio watch, use a kitchen timer or phone on airplane mode.)  

With your distractions gone and your timer set, put your hand to your task. Work carefully and diligently until the timer rings.  This can be a lot harder than it feels like it should be (thanks for nothing, 15-second attention span world!) - but if your mind wanders, gently shepherd it back to your task (remember, you are your friend). When the timer rings, allow yourself to be done for the day (you want to want to come back tomorrow).

So come back again tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that. Don’t miss a day for 31 days and you’ll be well on your way to a fine new habit, which means it’ll be just as easy to do the thing than to not do it.

Slow, careful practice turns little things into big things. Honest it does. All it takes is diligence and trust (pixie dust optional), and a short term goal you can stick to without burnout (remember to be your friend).  These ideas (as with alllll ideas) feed each other…shoot for little, repeatable habits that can build on each other to achieve big goals.

I won’t be offended if you’re still hungry -- small plates aren’t supposed to be a full meal. Here’s hoping maybe these thoughts sparked an even greater appetite to greatness!

And perhaps, buy a watch.

Steward Card portrait and design by Gracie Klumpp.

[dailymusingsofamedic]

15th May 2020 - Elgar

Edward Elgar (1857-1934)

Violin Concerto in B Minor (1905-1910) 

https://open.spotify.com/album/39NMnRFgeWr4DYcPcWN0eL?si=kB2-X_OoT4OkEbJLT5hn5g Tracks 1-4

Right so first of all, I know I did Elgar in the last round, but I’ve chosen this for two reasons. Firstly, I wanted to cover a piece which is already well known, I just haven’t got around to listening to yet. Secondly, I actually sat through all of Ewald’s Brass Quintets as another options, but I’ve played 1, and 2,3 & 4 are SO boring, that I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’ve chosen an old recording (1932!), because Menuhin’s interpretation is apparently supposed to be the best. Oh my Christ it’s long. Here we go.  

Above - Best Buds Menuhin and Elgar

1. Allegro – From the outset, it couldn’t be anyone but Elgar. Is that an accordion at 1:14?? It must be the recording surely. Apparently also they were unable to make oboe sound nice on recordings this early. I’m sure they were playing well. 2:35 is so nice. At 2:45, I remember it’s a concerto, as we hear the violin for the first time. Even on this recording, the solo violin sounds amazing. Balance is preserved as well. By 5:45, I’m not super excited, but it’s good, standard Elgar, a really enjoyable listen. Around 7 minutes, the low register from Menuhin sounds beautiful, and this part’s so well written. Back to the main theme a bit at 7:35 but with violin this time. 8:40 is the first time I get excited, fast double stopping, so accurate, and then some real ‘acrobatics’. I hate that term, it so cringey, but it’s a good way to describe that passage. Another amazing tutti section. At 11:25, the orchestra are barely audible, it’s a really nice piano section. I do genuinely think this movement loses a bit of direction until 14:45, but then the section here is so exciting, if only for 30 seconds. Then again at 15:30, things start heating up again. There’s something about that fast double stopping that I love every time. Ditto 16:45. It would be so hard not to clap after this movement...it’s as long as a stand alone piece, the end sounds like the end. My other half would be clapping his head off by now. Perhaps rightly so?

2. Andante – The oboes don’t sound as awful in this movement. Maybe they were actually playing badly in the first movement. The opening is quite dramatic and leads us into a really moving violin melody. 2:05 is the highest note I’ve ever heard. Then the melody is orchestrated for the tutti orchestra, it’s really very nice. 3:18, the brass is an interesting choice, not bad, but not expected. Is 4:44 higher than 2:05? I feel like this movement’s a bit of a tease; lots of build-up and no climax. By the middle, I’m hoping the final build-up (if there is one) will lead to something amazing. Is this it at 8:55? More brass, which sounds quite crackly here, but I’m sure that’s a recording thing. It’s such an enjoyable listen throughout, this movement. I keep smiling, and it’s very relaxing. But also quite stirring. Idiots would say they felt patriotic listening to this, I am 10000% sure of it. The end of this movement is great. No risk of claps; there’s something else coming. 

Above - This is what’s coming.

3. Allegro Molto – Just in case anyone’s fallen asleep and/or developing a DVT listening to the second movement (shame on you!), the third starts off quickly! At one minute, for the firse time in this piece I feel like there’s actually quite a lot going on behind the soloist, but that is varibale throughout the movement. The tutti’s arre all great though. MMM the runs leading up to 2 minutes are so clever. The first is slurred and the second almost stacatto (not a violinist obviously), it’s such a great contrast. 2:20 definitely doesn’t feel that ‘allegro molto’ any more. Hahaha the double winds really do sound shit. The accelerando from 4:20 (blaze it) shows some amazing, precise, and musical playing. Is that a cadenza before 5:20? It’s weird if so. I bet someone told the trombones to be quieter during the section from 5:55. THERE IT IS AGAIN 6:45-6:56 IS THAT ACTUALLY AN ACCORDION? 8:45 sounds like they’re winding up to the end. And it sounds amazing. Oh my god 9:10 is briefly amazing. Then a bit boring again. 9:30 tasty, tasty violin solo.  

4. Cadenza – I don’t think this is another movement, but it’s another track on the CD. Wikipedia says it’s part of the third movement. Doesn’t sound very cadenza-y to me. Until the accompaniment changed. It’s a very cool effect. Wikipedia again says pizzicato tremolando. I don’t know what that means. I mean, there are some elements that feel like a cadenza, it’s certainly the most exposed playing we’ve heard, and sounds really hard. It’s certainly a long bloody cadenza though, and accompanied throughout. Odd. 3:50 is very cool. I am getting a bit bored through 4-6 minutes. I want it to go somewhere. I would be checking my watch in a concert I think. Which is a shame, because there’s some amazing stuff in here. It’s a great piece undoubtedly. There’s hope at 7:00 when that opening theme plays again. From 7:20 this is the climax I’ve been hoping for all along. The end is great, rousing, I was listening intently so don’t have any other more specific notes.

Overall – 7/10. Menuhin must have been tired, this concerto is LONG. I do prefer his cello concerto because I’m a basic bitch but maybe it’s because I know it better. I’d cut about 7 mins from movement 1, and another 7-8 from movement 3. Movement 2 is a triumph, and it’s rare that I like the middle movement of a concerto best (notable mention being the Bach double). It’s just a bit long!  

Here’s Menuhin performing another great second movement (4:30, I couldn’t work out how to start there...):

[chicagoindiecritics]

New from Kevin Wozniak on Kevflix: Best Movies of 2019 – Best Movie Moments

Every year when I begin to look back at the movies of 2019 and begin to make my lists, this is always my favorite list to make.  It is a tough list to make, but always an exciting and interesting list to make.  I get to look back and look at my favorite moments of the year in movies. Whether it was a scene or a moment that scared me, thrilled me, caused an emotional reaction, or one of just pure entertainment, these are the ones that knocked me out in 2019.  Here are my picks for the best movie moments of 2019.

  SPOILERS AHEAD

SPOILERS AHEAD

SPOILERS AHEAD

SPOILERS AHEAD

SPOILERS AHEAD

  You’ve been warned.

          10. LANDING ON NEPTUNE – AD ASTRA 

The third act of James Gray’s brilliant sci-fi film is one of great filmmaking and visual effects.  Astronaut Roy McBride (Brad Pitt) is on the tail end of his mission and goes to Neptune to find his father and this scene literally took my breath away.  Just the sheer idea of traveling that far into space is unbelievable, but this also sets the movie up for its big emotional climax.  It’s a gorgeous scene and the best part of James Gray’s stunning achievement.

    9. SOCCER BALL PREGNANCY – GREENER GRASS 

Greener Grass was one of the weirdest movies I saw in 2019, yet one that I grew to love the more I thought about it and the more I saw it.  This is a twisted, hilarious, dark comedy that is full of bits and scenes of bizarre behavior.  My favorite bit, and one that is making me laugh as I type this out, is a simple one and one you have to see to understand, as explaining it doesn’t do it justice.  During a neighborhood soccer game, Lisa (pictured above, played by Dawn Luebbe) takes the soccer ball as it was kicked out of bounds, sticks under her dress, and from that point on is pregnant.  This is a recurring bit throughout the movie, which included a baby shower, the child being born, and family pictures.  Again, it’s strange stuff, but it is also the funniest running joke of 2019.

    8. OPENING SHOT – CLIMAX

Gaspar Noé films are films that stick with you.  He completely immerses you into them and makes you feel some kind of way when watching them, usually a feeling of discomfort or horror.  The opening to his latest film, Climax, is no different.  This five-minute, uncut introduction features over a dozen actors dancing their hearts out to techno music.  It is an exhausting, hypnotic shot, filled with slick camera moves, stunning colors, and crazy dance movements that sets us up for what is to come in this horrifying, claustrophobic trip.

    7. FINAL SHOT – PORTRAIT OF A LADY ON FIRE  

Céline Sciamma’s Portrait of Lady on Fire is a movie that has stuck with me since I saw it back in October.  It is a beautiful love story about two women who’s love grows stronger and deeper the more they observe each other, yet they know their relationship cannot last.  The final shot of the film a master stroke from Sciamma and powerhouse acting from Adèle Haenel.  Marianne (Noémie Merlant) and Héloïse’s (Haenel) relationship has ended when Héloïse was forced to get married.  Having not seen each other since, Marianne sees Héloïse at a concert on the other side of theater.  Vivaldi’s “Concerto No. 2”, a callback to an earlier scene, begins to play and we watch Héloïse go through a whirlwind of emotions.  We watch as she remembers everything about her time with Marainne, the good times, the bad times, the times that they laughed, and the times they cried.  Sciamma doesn’t cut from Haenel and we watch for a solid two minutes as the emotions rush through her.  It’s a beautiful final shot in one of the most beautiful movies of the year.

    6. “I AM IRON MAN” – AVENGERS: ENDGAME

“I am Iron Man.”  These words shook the comic book movie landscape forever and kicked off one of the biggest franchises in cinematic history.  Eleven years later, these words are more powerful than ever.  When it seemed like Thanos had gotten the best of the Avengers once again, capturing all the infinity stones on the infinity gauntlet, he tries to snap everything in existence away, only to realize Iron Man (Robert Downey Jr.) has taken the stones and made his own gauntlet on his suit.  Iron Man then utters the words, “I…am…Iron Man.”, then snaps Thanos and everything he brought away, saving the galaxy.  These would be last words Tony Stark would ever say and it was the perfect end to a character arc, coming full circle from the time he said them at that press conference back in 2008 to his dying words in 2019.

    5. “IT’S GONNA HAPPEN” – THE IRISHMAN 

There were a number of scenes from Martin Scorsese’s three-and-a-half-hour gangster masterpiece that I could have chosen here.  But this small scene really hit me hard.  In a quiet dinning room on their way to a wedding, Russell Bufalino (Joe Pesci) informs Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro) that he will be traveling to Detroit to kill his friend Jimmy Hoffa, all while eating cereal and drinking coffee.  This is Pesci’s Oscar scene, as his calm, yet terrifying demeanor really puts Frank in a bind.  De Niro doesn’t say much, but his eyes say everything.  He is now torn between the man who brought him into this life and his friend.  It’s a powerful scene and a sucker punch to the gut.

    4. MEETING MR. ROGERS – A BEAUTIFUL DAY IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD 

The opening of Marielle Heller’s wonderful film starts exactly how every Mr. Rogers episode started, with Mr. Rogers (Tom Hanks) walking into his home singing “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?”.  This is our first glimpse of Tom Hanks as Mr. Rogers and it is the moment we fall in love with him.  There was a lot of speculation around Hanks as Rogers, as he doesn’t look and sound anything like Rogers.  But with the help of brilliant costume design, some small make-up, and Hanks hitting all the vocal notes, you immediately believe Hanks is Rogers.  Heller brilliantly shot the opening like the T.V. show and set the stage for one the most heart-warming movies of 2019.

    3. “GO TO WAR” – FORD V. FERRARI

Ford v Ferrari is a great American sports movie.  A movie about the underdog overcoming all obstacles to to rise to the top.  One of the key aspects of a great sports movie is a great, inspirational speech, a la Miracle or Friday Night Lights.  Ford v Ferrari has one and it is said by the wonderful Tracy Letts as Henry Ford II.  Ford is giving a speech to Carroll Shelby (Matt Damon) about the history of Ford Motors during time of war and how the company persevered through tough times, symbolic of how everything is going for Shelby in trying make a car that is capable of winning the 24 hour at Le Mans.  Ford ends his speech by telling  Shelby, “go to war” and it is a moment that might as well have come with a bald eagle screeching in background.  A speech that represents everything red, white, and blue and makes you want to stand up and yell, “AMERICA!” while pumping your fist in the air.

    2. THE FIGHT – MARRIAGE STORY 

Two of the best performances of 2019 come from Adam Driver and Scarlett Johansson in Noah Baumbach’s Marriage Story.  The two actors give arguably the best performances of their respective careers and commit to being a couple attempting to go through a divorce with as little stress as possible and as cordial as possible.  However, that doesn’t happen and the two end up at each other’s throats, in an explosive scene of emotion and acting mastery.  The entire film was building to this moment and it is as an absolute explosion of a scene.  Johansson and Driver is incredible and Baumbach’s writing is top-tier.  You feel everything they are saying.  You feel the pain, the anger, and the sadness that comes with every word.  It’s acting at its finest and if these two end up winning Oscars for their performances, this is the scene that got them those statues.

      1. “AVENGERS!  ASSEMBLE!” – AVENGERS: ENDGAME 

As soon as I saw this scene, I knew it would be number one on this list and it wouldn’t be close.  This scene is not only the definition of awesome, but it is epic on every scale.  When all hope seems lost for Captain America (Chris Evans), Iron Man (Robert Downey Jr.), Thor (Chris Hemsworth), and the remaining Avengers and it looks like Thanos’ army will take over the planet, we hear the static of Falcon’s (Anthony Mackie) voice in Captain America’s ear, followed by the appearance of T’Challa (Chadwick Boseman) coming from a Doctor Strange portal.  It is then an onslaught of everyone from the MCU appearing on screen, both those who disappeared in the snap and those who survived, all culminating in an attack on Thanos and his army with Captain America commanding, “AVENGERS!  ASSEMBLE!”.  Alan Silvestri’s epic score takes over and we watch as eleven years and over twenty movies come together on the screen at the same time.  You can’t help but get emotional watching this.  We have grown with the MCU and The Avengers and all of these characters and seeing them all on screen at the same time fighting for their lives and the galaxy is something we had been waiting for for over a decade.  This is not only the best scene of 2019, but possibly the best scene of the decade, symbolizing so much of what cinema has become while also being the as big as anything that has ever been on the big screen.

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        The post Best Movies of 2019 – Best Movie Moments appeared first on Kevflix.

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[nerdybff]

Nine Reasons I Love Alexa

Just over a year ago, Amazon’s Alexa came to live with us in the form of the original Amazon Echo device. Since then, I’ve gone all in with Alexa, purchasing teeny tiny Echo Dots for different rooms plus an adorable little Echo Spot with a touchscreen face for my nightstand. Here’s the video review I recorded last February for the original, but scroll down a little for the nine reasons I’ve fallen in love with Alexa.

By the way, just because I love what Alexa can do doesn’t mean I trust it entirely. It’s always listening, and, with the video-enabled versions, always watching. We all know that can’t be good.

Nine Reasons I Love Alexa

 Our house is filled with music Before we got Alexa, we really lived life without a soundtrack. We had an old stereo in the garage that D.J. would use when he was working on his bikes. But if we wanted a little music at dinner, we’d have to turn on the TV and surf to one of those music channels.Now every meal has a musical theme. On Valentine’s Day, we had romantic concertos. While packing up the holiday gifts I sent to more than 500 of you (did you get yours?), Alexa filled the house with Christmas music. When I found myself missing Mom on her birthday this month, I asked Alexa to play a little Waylon Jennings. It’s just SO EASY. I just ask her to play a genre, give her an artist’s name or simply say, “Alexa, play something I might like.” (Of course, I just did that to test it out, and she played “The Merry Old Land of Oz.” So….)

In addition, a podcast addict like myself is in heaven with Alexa. Just ask her to play Radiolab, and the latest episode starts playing.

Alexa helps me at work “Alexa, what’s my next appointment?” The integration with my work calendar has made staying on task so much easier. At any moment, I can check what’s coming up and any tasks on my list. I can also set a timer to help me practice the Pomodoro Technique, where I work on ONE task (and only one task) for 25 minutes or so, then take a break for email, Facebook, etc.

Have an Android device? Alexa will even let you dictate a text message. Apple is stingy with its SMS access, so I can’t do this yet. But the integrations just keep getting better. Amazon is hoping to move more into the workplace with more uses.

Alexa finds my phone I can’t tell you how often I wander around the house looking for my phone. I used to grab D.J.’s phone to call myself, but now I just ask Alexa to make it ring. Alexa also will remind me of tasks and appointments.

Alexa finds my husband Speaking of phones, the Alexa system is basically a messaging app as well. You have the ability to call and message individual devices or even phones associated with those devices. D.J. often turns off his ringer when he’s in court (he’s a lawyer, not a criminal). And he forgets to turn it back on at home. So when I track his location (via Apple) and see that he’s at home but not answering his phone, I just “drop in” to the living room Alexa device. It chimes into the room, and all D.J. has to do is say, “Hello” to connect the call. I think it annoys him a little, but I’m good with that.

I always know the weather So far this year I’ve visited ten cities in two countries. I’ve experienced a snowstorm in Toronto, a deluge in Houston and an exquisite day in New Orleans. Packing for the weather is a total pain. Rather than looking up each city, I can keep packing and simply ask Alexa about the weather in Detroit on Tuesday and Atlanta on Wednesday. My husband laughs at me when I check the weather here in San Diego by asking Alexa instead of just looking outside. But I bet I’m not the only one who does that.

Another really cool (but very basic) feature makes me happier than it should… I love being able to ask Alexa what time it is. The Echo Spot in the bedroom has a clock face so I can see it at night, but during the day, I often lose track of time. I rely on it so often that I am thinking of putting one near my vanity so I know what time it is while I’m putting on makeup to get on a plane at 4 am. Asking for the time is easier than looking at a device. It’s just so annoying to have to find my phone, pick it up, push a button… whew. I’m tired just thinking of it.

I’ve solved a 10-year marital issue My husband has a super-human ability to see well in very low-light conditions. So he can flip out the bedroom light and tuck himself safely in our bed while I grope, cuss and shuffle in the dark. So I set up Alexa with some smart plugs so that I can say, “Alexa, turn on Beth’s side” or “Alexa, turn on the bedroom” so I have the lights I need to get to my side. I adore this solution because we no longer have to coordinate our bedtimes, and I don’t have to wake him up to turn off/on the light so I can get to my side safely.At first, I thought it was the perfect setup, but then I returned from a trip and had this conversation with D.J. on Valentine’s Day.

Yeah, so one thing you still have to remember about having a smart home is that you need to get everyone else to think it’s as wonderful as you do.

Alexa lets me show off a little I don’t use Alexa for shopping very much because if you say, “Alexa, order Nerds Candies,” you will get annoyed by Alexa’s reading the first couple of results on the search page to you. But sometimes D.J. will ask me to buy him something on Amazon, and I’ll show off a little. Every six months, he’ll say we need a new refrigerator water filter, and I’ll just say, “Alexa, order the water filter,” and it shows up the next day. Then I get to give D.J. the look that says, “Yes, I CAN do everything.”

Alexa integrates with my other Amazon devices If you don’t have an Amazon Firestick, you’re missing out. Amazon’s streaming media gadget is super cheap and totally convenient and plenty of fun. I’ve even taught D.J. how easy it is to search by voice to find his shows across all the subscription services we belong to (Netflix, Hulu and Amazon, mainly). And with Alexa, I don’t even have to dig the remote from between the cushions of the couch. I can just tell her to play Big Bang Theory, and our options pop up on the screen.

 I look forward to the future One of the things I love the most about Alexa is its potential. I’ve already integrated it into much of what I do here at home and in the office, and I can’t wait to see how the technology develops. I probably should have waited a while to get extra Alexa gadgets because we’re going to see the technology absorbed into other appliances and devices. Alexa will be in our cars, our fridges and our lamps — in fact, I think she already is. So if you hold off a little longer, you won’t have to always buy the stand-alone versions.

Nine Reasons I Love Alexa was originally published on Your Nerdy Best Friend