#birtwistle

[doyouwanttoseeabug]

Haven't you always wondered which of the many, many, many operas about Orpheus and Eurydice best suits your vibe? Yes you have. I picked six of my favourites and put them in a quiz. Enjoy!

[dare-g]

Dracula: Pages from a Virgin’s Diary (2002)

[lesser-known-composers]

Harrison Birtwistle (1934-2022) - Oboe Quartet: I. Quaver = 144 ·

Nash Ensemble

[innervoiceart]

Three Latin Motets from 'The Last Supper': III. In supremae nocte cenae · BBC Singers · Harrison Birtwistle · Nicholas Kok

Harrison Birtwistle: The Moth Requiem

[iwaoiness]

Oikawa's problematic phone case

Without any doubt, Iwaizumi is the only person in the world who is able to look so fucking hot in his ID picture without even trying. His golden skin, his hair in that natural state of spiky, his forehead relaxed without any wrinkles, that piercing in his eyebrow that he got in his first year at Irvine and that Tooru still shivers over, his eyes staring at the camera with an intensity in their greenish hue that takes breath away, his lips curved in a small lopsided smile, a shadow of dimple on his cheek, his jaw well marked by the lights, his chin slightly elevated.

Hajime sent it during one of his video calls while telling him about his day; the soda Oikawa was drinking at that moment shot out of his nose when he choked while opening the picture. Early in the morning, he stood in the nearest copy shop to his house to request eight copies, still blushing, heart racing, and ears still ringing from Iwaizumi's deep-playful-stupid-hot laugh and his Do I look so hot that it makes the great Oikawa-senshu this nervous?

One of those copies ended up in his grey silicone case (which actually matched Iwaizumi's, his with a chubby dinosaur drawing in the bottom corner asking What are u doing?; Oikawa's, with another smiling dinosaur hugging the rest of Iwasaurus missing tail, answering Miss you, hug me!), accompanying him everywhere for months along with a small family photo with his parents, sister and Takeru.

However, one night, during an interview on a popular and prestigious TV show, Oikawa completely forgot that he changed his usual cover for a transparent one and took out his mobile phone in the middle of the interview to show the presenter a really embarrassing video of Matias, his friend and San Juan's starting blocker.

And, of course, Tooru's loud and intense fandom erupted the minute they noticed (thanks to damn high-definition cameras that might as well show gaping pores in close-up as reveal a years-long relationship with a really hot athletic trainer) Hajime's photograph on his IPhone case.

Social media was abuzz with dozens of screenshots from different angles, threads about conspiracy theories (Hanamaki's favourite was that Oikawa had the wrong phone and used the phone of a technical member of the programme; Matsukawa's that Hajime was Tooru's older brother), civil wars between fans over who was more right until only a day later it was revealed (thanks to one Suna Rintaro) that the strange boy was Iwaizumi Hajime, the hot athletic trainer of Birtwistle University and the Japan Men's National Volleyball Team.

And there was no shortage of hashtags like #IwaizumiHajime27AthleticTrainer, #LGBTooru, #BiRighToorus, #IwaOi that became worldwide TT and the grotesque rise of followers on Hajime's official account and also Oikawa's own.

"You had to use a fucking transparent case" Hajime speaks when it's finally his turn to come to Argentina. He's sitting on the bed with Tooru propped up next to him, blinking at the memes that continue to pop up on his TL even though it's been a month of what Oikawa's fans have already dubbed IwaOi National Day. "You have a drawer full, full, of ridiculous phone cases and you pick the one that's transparent."

"I already said it was unintentional, Iwa-chan! Unintentional!" Oikawa protests, crossing his arms as he makes a pout that Hajime finds truly endearing. "I'd better have kept the picture that auntie took of you when you were nine years old and got stuck in the cat flap," he mutters, but Iwaizumi hears him clearly and Tooru squeals as a pillow hits his face, nearly knocking him off the bed.

...

the cute phone case inspired this drabble

as always thank u sm and u can find me on my ao3 🍉

[justforbooks]

Sir Andrew Davis

One of Britain’s greatest conductors widely admired for leading the BBC Symphony Orchestra at the Proms

One of the most beloved and highly esteemed conductors of his generation, Sir Andrew Davis, who has died aged 80 of leukaemia, was a familiar presence on the podium, not least through his countless appearances at the BBC Proms in his capacity as chief conductor of the BBC Symphony Orchestra (1989-2000).

After Adrian Boult, his was the second longest tenure of the post in the history of the orchestra. During the same period he was also music director of Glyndebourne Opera (1988–2000), conducting works by Mozart, Janáček and Richard Strauss, among many others.

The sheer range of his repertoire was in fact one of the defining features of Davis’s career. Not only was he acclaimed as an empathetic interpreter of British music from Elgar and Vaughan Williams to Holst and Bliss, but he also had the ability to assimilate contemporary scores such as Michael Tippett’s The Mask of Time, Harrison Birtwistle’s The Mask of Orpheus, Nicholas Sackman’s Hawthorn or David Sawer’s Byrnan Wood, all of which were either introduced at the Proms or recorded. The Birtwistle was named record of the year at the Gramophone awards in 1987.

But as he showed season after season in the BBC post, Davis could bring both vitality and a discerning sense of idiom to almost any music. One recalls, almost at random, a 2015 concert featuring a sensuous account of Delius’s In a Summer Garden, followed by a lithe and muscular suite from Ravel’s erotic Daphnis et Chloé, the ecstatic choral shouts and shuddering climaxes leaving little to the imagination. The concert also included music by Carl Nielsen and a new work, Epithalamion, by Hugh Wood.

One of many highlights of his Proms appearances was his commanding premiere in 1998 of Elgar’s Third Symphony in the “elaboration” by Anthony Payne (effectively a performing version made from the composer’s sketches).

Another was his speech from the podium in 1992, delivered as a patter song to the tune of Gilbert and Sullivan’s “I am the very model of a modern major-general”, complete with witty rhymes and repartee with the delighted audience. The trick was repeated on the final night of the 2000 festival, his last as the orchestra’s chief conductor. On his arrival at the BBC Symphony Orchestra, the more truculent members of the ensemble had to be won over, but they were, by his genial humour and charm, as well as his purely musical talents.

He was also popular with soloists, not necessarily offering a radically new perspective of his own, but listening carefully to them to provide an ideal accompaniment. The pianist Stephen Hough said he had “the sharpest ear and the clearest stick”. Both on and off the podium Davis exuded bonhomie and affability. His concern as a conductor was always to create the conditions that enabled musicians to give of their best.

Born in Ashridge, Hertfordshire, he was the son of Robert Davis, a compositor, and his wife, Joyce (nee Badminton). Andrew began to learn the piano at the age of five and attended Watford grammar school. In 1959 he started organ studies with Peter Hurford and subsequently won an organ scholarship to King’s College, Cambridge, where he played under David Willcocks. He then studied conducting at the Accademia di S Cecilia, Rome, under Franco Ferrara, and in London with George Hurst. From 1966 to 1970 he was pianist, harpsichordist and organist with the Academy of St Martin in the Fields.

In 1970 he made his debut with the BBC Symphony Orchestra and in the same year was appointed assistant conductor of the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra. He then became principal guest conductor of the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra (1974–77) and music director of the Toronto Symphony Orchestra (1975–88), whose stature he boosted with major tours of North America, Europe and Asia. In 1982, he helped establish the orchestra’s new home at Roy Thomson Hall, and advised on the construction of its organ.

Then came the posts at the BBC Symphony Orchestra and Glyndebourne. His debut at the latter had been in Strauss’s Capriccio (1973) and he was to become a noted exponent of the composer’s operas.

In 1989 he married the soprano Gianna Rolandi, whom he had met when she sang Zerbinetta under his baton first at the Metropolitan, New York, in 1984 and again at Glyndebourne in 1988.

On his retirement from the BBC in 2000 he moved to the US with Rolandi and their son, Edward, to take up the appointment of music director, until 2021, of the Lyric Opera of Chicago, where he conducted nearly 700 opera performances including Wagner’s Ring cycle (2004–05). A second cycle was planned for the 2019–20 season, but was never completed on account of the Covid pandemic. He additionally conducted orchestral concerts at the Lyric and free concerts at Millennium Park.

From 2012 to 2019, he also held the post of chief conductor of the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra, becoming conductor laureate, while continuing to live in the US.

In addition to his conducting, he made an orchestration of Handel’s Messiah, performing it with the Toronto orchestra, and of Berg’s Piano Sonata, op 1, and Passacaglia (Berg was a composer who inspired him, he once said, throughout his life). His own compositions included La Serenissima: Inventions on a Theme by Claudio Monteverdi (1980), Chansons Innocentes for children’s chorus and orchestra (1984) and Alice (2003) – settings of Lewis Carroll for mezzo-soprano, tenor and children’s chorus. At his death he was working on orchestrating some of JS Bach’s organ music.

During the pandemic lockdown he drew on his knowledge of the classics, gained as a student, to undertake an original translation of Virgil’s Aeneid. Though modest about his poetic abilities, he did comment that the experience was comparable to that of making music: “The manipulation of sonorities and rhythms and the search for ways of bringing to life the vividness of Virgil’s imagery and at times his great emotional power struck me as remarkably similar to the search that I have been engaged in all my life on the podium.”

His numerous recordings reflect the vast range of his repertoire, British and contemporary music looming large alongside Stravinsky, Strauss, Berlioz, Ives, Sibelius, Weill and the complete Dvořák symphonies. A 16-CD retrospective collection celebrating British composers on Teldec’s The British Line series was released by Warner Classics.

In 1991, he received the Royal Philharmonic Society/Charles Heidsieck music award. He was appointed CBE in 1992 and knighted in 1999.

Rolandi died in 2021. Davis is survived by Edward, a composer, singer and conductor.

🔔 Andrew Frank Davis, conductor, born 2 February 1944; died 20 April 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[wikiuntamed]

On this day in Wikipedia: Thursday, 18th April

Welcome, आपका स्वागत है (āpakā svāgata hai), fáilte, dobrodošli 🤗 What does @Wikipedia say about 18th April through the years 🏛️📜🗓️?

18th April 2022 🗓️ : Death - Harrison Birtwistle Harrison Birtwistle, British composer (b. 1934) "Sir Harrison Birtwistle (15 July 1934 – 18 April 2022) was an English composer of contemporary classical music best known for his operas, often based on mythological subjects. Among his many compositions, his better known works include The Triumph of Time (1972) and the operas The Mask of Orpheus..."

Image licensed under CC BY 2.0? by

MITO SettembreMusica

18th April 2019 🗓️ : Event - United States Department of Justice The United States Department of Justice released a redacted version of the Mueller report about the investigation of Russian influence on the U.S. presidential election to Congress and the public. "The United States Department of Justice (DOJ), also known as the Justice Department, is a federal executive department of the United States government tasked with the enforcement of federal law and administration of justice in the United States. It is equivalent to the justice or interior ministries..."

Image by U.S. government

18th April 2014 🗓️ : Death - Sanford Jay Frank Sanford Jay Frank, American screenwriter and producer (b. 1954) "Sanford Jay "Sandy" Frank, also known as Sandy Frank (July 21, 1954 – April 18, 2014), was a television writer who was known as a writer for Late Night with David Letterman. He wrote for Letterman's NBC show for four years, during which the show won four Emmy Awards for comedy-variety writing. ..."

18th April 1974 🗓️ : Birth - Edgar Wright Edgar Wright, English filmmaker "Edgar Howard Wright (born 18 April 1974) is an English filmmaker and actor. He is known for his fast-paced and kinetic, satirical genre films, which feature extensive utilisation of expressive popular music, Steadicam tracking shots, dolly zooms and a signature editing style that includes..."

Image licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0? by Eva Rinaldi from Sydney Australia

18th April 1924 🗓️ : Birth - Clarence "Gatemouth" Brown Clarence "Gatemouth" Brown, American singer-songwriter and guitarist (d. 2005) "Clarence "Gatemouth" Brown (April 18, 1924 – September 10, 2005) was an American singer and multi-instrumentalist from Louisiana. He won a Grammy Award for Best Traditional Blues Album in 1983 for his album, Alright Again!. ..."

Image licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0? by Kingkongphoto & www.celebrity-photos.com from Laurel Maryland, USA

18th April 1819 🗓️ : Birth - Franz von Suppé Franz von Suppé, Austrian composer and conductor (d. 1895) "Franz von Suppé, born Francesco Ezechiele Ermenegildo de Suppé (18 April 1819 – 21 May 1895) was an Austrian composer of light operas and other theatre music. He came from the Kingdom of Dalmatia, Austro-Hungarian Empire (now part of Croatia). A composer and conductor of the Romantic period, he is..."

Image by Gabriel Decker (1821-1855)

18th April 🗓️ : Holiday - Christian feast day: Perfectus "Saint Perfectus (Santo Perfecto) (died 18 April 850) was one of the Martyrs of Córdoba whose martyrdom was recorded by Saint Eulogius in the Memoriale sanctorum. He was born in Córdoba when the area was under the control of the Moors (the Umayyad Caliphate). Perfecto was a monk and ordained priest. ..."

[229zmi]

NEO-POP - 3

PAIRING: Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader

CONTENT: homesickness, long-distance relationship

WORD COUNT: 3.2k

masterlist | previous part

AFTER HIGH SCHOOL GRADUATION

In the swinging pendulum of life, there are ups and downs.

A bird poops on Iwaizumi's cap during graduation, and Hanamaki trips on his way up to the stage. He and his friends all decide to go to different universities in different countries, and Birtwistle University offers him a full-ride scholarship. Over the summer, Iwaizumi bumps into Takahashi at the grocery store and—

Well—

Admittedly, he has yet to find an up in this case.

In the swinging pendulum of life, it is, for the most part, predictable. Iwaizumi knows that things haven't exactly been civil between him and Takahashi, like, ever and it's not like anything has changed even remotely since the last time they spoke to each other nearly four years ago. Thus, it comes off as no surprise when the boy sneers obnoxiously and glances over at him from the literal top of his head to his toes before speaking to him with a dry lilt to his tone, as if trying to pass off vocal fry as disinterest, "What are you doing here?"

"To... buy groceries," Iwaizumi says slowly. Takahashi simply tsks and rolls his eyes as a response, like he didn't just?? Ask??? It's unnerving how this conversation plays out almost like a scene in a stereotypical American high school movie between two rivals, just only less riveting because after that short exchange, it's awkward.

Takahashi shoves his hands in the pockets of his jorts and looks at his surroundings aimlessly. Iwaizumi has an internal debate between staying or walking away.

"If you don't have anything else to stay, I'm gonna go now—"

"Yesterday, I was at this place," Takahashi blurts out. "It had some art displayed up on the walls."

Another foreboding silence falls between them.

"...Okay."

He continues, "I recognised the name under a lot of the paintings, y'know, which is weird because I don't really know anything about art and artists or whatever, but then I remembered: your friend's an artist, aren't they? Or at least wanted to be one, anyway, last I remember. The name under the paintings was something like— [L/N]..." He snaps his fingers repeatedly like that'll help jog his memory. "[L/N]-something—"

"Yeah, that's them. [L/N] [Y/N]," Iwaizumi confirms. He can't help the feeling of pride that swells in his chest as he says this.

Takahashi hums and an amused expression overtakes his face. "So they've actually decided to do it. Pursue a career in art."

"If you're going to make fun of them again like you did at my fifteenth birthday party, I don't want to hear it—"

"I wasn't!" He huffs, crossing his arms. "I was actually..." The last part of his sentence comes out an incoherent mumble.

Iwaizumi blinks at him. "You were what?"

"I was..." Again. He's mumbling.

"What?"

"Hey! I'm speaking loud and clear, aren't I?" Takahashi snaps defensively, growing red-faced for a moment, but then quiets down to say, "I said I was impressed. By their art. And how— I don't know. Successful they are. I mean, having your art displayed in the building of some really popular business downtown that's not even art-related — it was a fucking foot spa salon. But that's gotta mean some amount of success, right?"

"Yeah." Iwaizumi isn't really sure what else to say to that or where exactly this conversation is going.

"I've always thought that people who pursued a career in the art field would be wasting their time by doing so, that it's not worth it. And for most, it isn't. But of course there are outliers; I can't just generalise an entire career path to only one outcome."

He then heaves a sigh and suddenly looks remorseful. Somewhat. Honestly, it's hard to tell with how unfamiliar Iwaizumi is with this version of Takahashi: older, less irritating, civil with him for once. People can change as they grow, of course, yet there's a part of him that feels like any moment now, all of this will be revealed to be a morbid illusion— a fake body of some sort that will suddenly collapse into a pile of flimsy unknown material on the ground and then a seething, tantrum-throwing kid will come crawling out of the mess, shaking a fist at him in anger and insulting the near-invisible wrinkles in Iwaizumi's forehead yet again.

"I'll admit," Takahashi starts, much to Iwaizumi's surprise because it sounds like he's actually confessing to something wrong he did and about to own up to it for once, "it's not my business to dictate what someone else wants to do with their life, and it was weird of me to say all of the things I said to your friend at your birthday. So can you, like. Um. Like. Um. Tell them I'm kinda sorry about that."

"Kinda?"

"Yeah."

What kind of apology is that? Iwaizumi narrows his eyes into a scrutinising glare but ultimately decides not to speak further on the half-assed sorry, offering a curt nod instead. He is almost certain you probably don't even remember him anyway, so it'll be amusing to tell you this, if anything.

"You've already started your last year of high school, right? What do you plan on doing afterwards?" he then asks. Saying this makes him feel ancient in the same way adults always used to try and start up conversations with him by only asking questions about school, but whatever.

Takahashi shrugs. "Dunno. My uncle wants me to study law like himself and my parents agree with him."

"Oh. Do you want to study law?"

"God, no." He lets out a scoff at the question, as if to insinuate how ridiculous it is. "Obviously, I wanna do something else. Like — don't laugh or I'll punt you — gardening."

Okay. Ignoring the threat, Iwaizumi nods.

"Good for you." Despite how dryly these words come out, he genuinely means it. Though, he's a bit intrigued, so— "Why?"

"Dunno," Takahashi says again. "It just feels right, you know? Maybe I'll think differently tomorrow; happens all the time whenever I start wondering if I should drop out 'cause school's so hard and all."

Iwaizumi can agree with him on that, for once.

"But right now, I wanna be a gardener since I like gardening and plants and stuff. Even if it's kind of unconventional. And even if it doesn't pay as well as my family would like."

"I'm sure you'd be a great gardener, then," Iwaizumi concedes, nodding again understandingly.

"Thanks." Takahashi pauses to think for a moment. "Hey, you wanna know the place where I found your friend's art? Don't know the exact address, but I remember the name because it was funny."

He snickers to himself. It is a stark contrast to the pissy, constantly wrathful face Iwaizumi has grown used to disliking over the past several years.

"That would be nice."

In the swinging pendulum of life, there are several constants and changes. As long as it had been since Iwaizumi last saw him, the boy standing in front of him is still recognisably Takahashi, still the same insufferable butthead from Iwaizumi's childhood who grates on his nerves oftentimes. Just refined now, as though time had chiselled away at the sharp edges of a rock to reveal, not some shimmery gem (he would never go so far as to say that), but at least something a little less... spiteful.

Iwaizumi doesn't think they'll ever talk again, not for a while. He wishes him all the best.

.

.

.

[ iiiwaaiiiizzoooooommmiiiiiiiii ] TODAY, 9:28PM

iiiwaaiiiizzoooooommmiiiiiiiii: Look at what I found [sent two images]

The first image is a picture of the interior of Tranquil Toes Foot Spa Salon. Several of your artwork is visible on the walls. The second image is of one of paintings on the walls, zoomed in particularly on your signature. Iwaizumi's hand is in the frame, hovering over your name in the shape of half a heart.

iiiwaaiiiizzoooooommmiiiiiiiii: All the way from Nova Scotia damn

[Y/N] <;3: UR. JOKING

iiiwaaiiiizzoooooommmiiiiiiiii: I'm not Were you commissioned by them or

[Y/N] <;3: i was it was so they can attract more customers but i didnt know it was gonna be for This???

iiiwaaiiiizzoooooommmiiiiiiiii: That sounds kinda dangerous

[Y/N] <;3: honestly this is better than anything i couldve ever imagined what why

iiiwaaiiiizzoooooommmiiiiiiiii: Because why didn't you think to research the company beforehand? You could've gotten scammed or smth

[Y/N] <;3: ok but they did pay me so quit ur scolding we should go n get a foot massage there together soon

iiiwaaiiiizzoooooommmiiiiiiiii: You say soon like you're actually coming back to Japan within the next year or so

[Y/N] <;3: soon is subjective u turd DUH and for me soon means sometime within the next decade or smth idk

iiiwaaiiiizzoooooommmiiiiiiiii: Turd??

[Y/N] <;3: ya

TODAY, 10:03PM

iiiwaaiiiizzoooooommmiiiiiiiii: By the way Takahashi says he's sorry for being mean to you at my bday party that one time

TODAY, 12:16AM

[Y/N] <;3: who

[iiiwaaiiiizzoooooommmiiiiiiiii liked your message.]

.

.

.

"How's California?"

It's different, he thinks. New. Big. He sees it first in the thriving campus of Birtwistle University when he initially arrives there, in all the colossal buildings and the confusing paths he struggles to navigate for at least the first couple of weeks before things start to fall in place, through bits and pieces of a routine he'd brought from back home only to adapt it to this new place almost entirely.

He sees it, then, in the people he meets on campus, who remind him too much of a hurricane, a group he could easily get caught up in and suddenly forget to breathe; they're thunderous and boisterous in the way they address their friends with big, open greetings paired with elaborate handshake routines that make him feel dizzy just by observing them, in the way that their laughs echo boundlessly from the other side of the dining hall, and in the way many of them offer Iwaizumi friendly smiles, unfamiliarity be damned, as their paths cross on the way to class.

He sees it in the clunky cars that whiz by, of which the number only seems to multiply the further he immerses himself into the city until he can confidently conclude that there's way too many; he sees it in the wide variety of food and drinks, so wide that he doesn't think he'll ever get to trying them all in the four years he plans on staying here; and he sees it in the scenery— long mountain ranges with the highest peaks he's ever witnessed, even higher than the ones in Miyagi, and rolling waves that lull him to a sense of calm at the end of his 5AM morning runs (because he's insane like that) when he stops to take a rest by the outer edge of the boardwalk.

California is overwhelming, but maybe he can get used to it. Grow to love it almost as much he loves home.

"It's okay. The weather here is really hot. Like summer all year-round," is all he says in response to your question, though. It's a tad more lukewarm and boring than he'd like, especially when this is the first time in weeks he's talking to you and hearing your voice, but honestly, he doesn't think he can fit everything he wants to say within just one phone call. And, as cheesy as it sounds, he'd rather listen to you talk instead, so he switches the topic onto you with ease, mirroring your question. "How's art school?"

"It's alright," you say.

"Is it everything you've dreamt of?"

Iwaizumi hears a brief rustle on the other end of the call, which he assumes must be you shrugging. "I don't know."

"Okay."

"Okay," you echo. You sound faint, like you've set the phone down to go somewhere else in the room for a moment. A noise like running water and the familiar clatter of plates then ring out through the phone call, and Iwaizumi concludes you must be washing the dishes. His suspicions are confirmed when he hears you hum quietly to yourself along to the music you have playing in the background as ambience. (He finds himself having to force away the smile threatening to spread across his face.)

California, he thinks— sometimes, it makes him feel small. Once the initial exhilaration of living thousands of kilometres away from home wears off, all that's left is a bittersweet feeling inside the pit of his stomach, something between homesickness and loneliness. He feels it in the silences that often fill your calls, that aren't exactly uncomfortable but not comfortable either like he's used to when it was you and him hanging out in-person, and that grow longer with every time he picks up the phone to answer you because there's simply too much to say yet too little to say at the same time.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder. Right now, his heart yearns for nothing more than to go home, though he's unsure if that means Miyagi or wherever you are.

.

.

.

A year later, Iwaizumi returns to Japan just for the winter holidays and finds your artworks out in the wild yet again, surprisingly. They're ceramics this time, displayed on shelves at the front of some kind of small-scale art gallery he doesn't recognise. It must have opened recently or something, he thinks.

He fumbles to take his phone out and snaps a picture. In the process, he overhears a group of passers-by refer to you as one of the new and rising artists internationally. A fine arts and crafts artist with such a captivating style, apparently, that is reminiscent of the Neo-Pop movement, based upon popular culture and ideas and intended to communicate with the masses— made for anyone and everyone.

Honestly? Iwaizumi doesn't know what the fuck any of all that means. It sounds an awful lot like pretentious babble to him, the kind he'd hear from professionals at a fancy museum or something.

Regardless of this, he's never felt any prouder of you.

(Somewhere on the other side of the globe, you let out a sneeze.)

.

.

.

Things are going considerably well for you now. Iwaizumi knows that because you update him as often as you can: you've recently started a summer internship in New Brunswick, and your business email has been swarmed as of lately with all kinds of companies commissioning you for your art. (And with every fiber of his being, he hopes— no, prays you still remember that Internet Safety 101 presentation he gave informally over a FaceTime call with you two years ago, or at least the parts where you should be doing background checks before you conduct business with some stranger online.)

For you, time seems to fly by faster than ever. It feels like you've talked to more people here within the past three years than you ever had back when you lived in Miyagi, and free time becomes sort of a rare luxury now, something you can't really plan for anymore as your academics and art career in-the-making take up most of it.

As for Iwaizumi— although it takes a few years, he's finally adjusted to the overwhelming lifestyle of studying abroad in the States. You sense it in the way he texts, in the way he jokes around with you over calls, and in the photos he sends whenever you're feeling nosy and make him show off his Outfit Of The Day. It's not much different from the him you knew so well before you and your family departed for Canada — easily irritable, stubborn, and caring in his own subtle manner — but not quite the same either.

He's more confident now, you think. Cooler. And you'd think out of reach, too, if not for the late night calls that occur from time to time and more often now because your schedule's so packed that that's the only time you can call: midnight. (He had reprimanded you for it multiple times, said something about the importance of sleep for your health, yet that never stopped him from picking up the phone every time.)

You'd feel like the distance between the two of you is growing larger, if not for the way his face — pixelated and blurry since the connection most often ranges between bad and worse, but your brain always automatically fills in the gaps, all the details that make up the Hajime you adore — visibly softens each time before a hushed Goodnight escapes him, paired with yet another sweet reminder that you can call him whenever, he'll always pick up.

The essence of this upcoming school year, it seems like, is out with the old and in with the new. Neither of the two of you are willing to let go of each other any time soon, though, unmistakably in the way he never lets go of those two phone charms — even if they do appear, to some, a bit juvenile hanging from his phone for someone with looks of him — and how Hajime's contact name never once slips from your list of most recent text conversations and calls.

.

.

.

To say Iwaizumi is nervous would be a severe understatement. He's never been to New Brunswick before, and he isn't even sure if this apartment is the one he's looking for, among many other uncertainties that come with navigating through an entirely different country yet again. Nonetheless, he supposes it's too late to backtrack now because before he's even aware of it, his hand suddenly develops a mind of its own and reaches up to rap against the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He steps back and leans against the wall behind him, fighting back the urge to fiddle with his fingers as he attempts to look as confident as he can while waiting. Seconds later, he hears the sound of footsteps. A door creaking open, although not the one in front of him unfortunately. Some more shuffling, a click, and then—

The door swings open. Iwaizumi smiles upon the sight of you, unable to keep the excitement from showing on his face.

"Hi."

There's several beats of silence. You appear as if you're in shock. "Hi," you breathe out.

You don't know how long it's been since you last saw him like this (four years? Maybe five at most, but to the both of you, it may as well be like decades): a clear image in-person instead of pixels confined in a pocket-sized screen, which you think, as you glance at him from head to toe, don't capture his looks as well as your eyes do right now.

Now twenty-three years old after all the time that's passed, he's taller, more visibly athletic, handsomer. These changes catch you off-guard for a solid minute until the familiarity eventually seeps in like a stain spreading across fabric, sending a pang of warmth straight through your heart.

Iwaizumi reaches you with just one stride forward. You feel his lips linger first over your forehead, then against your cheek, before he finally pulls you into the strongest bear hug you've ever experienced, and you return it with trembling arms wrapped around his torso as though you can't believe this is really happening. Burying your face into his shoulder, you breathe in the scent of his sweater, which smells vaguely of fresh laundry and bergamot, and clutch onto the fabric for dear life.

(You missed this, missed him. More than you had ever realised up until this moment.)

In the swinging pendulum of life, some things never change. You've never been happier to know that this — you and him, together — is one of them.

thank u for reading Neo-Pop!

[pridewon]

@flyhighest​ said:  "i love you, iwa - chan!" they're resting so snuggly on his chest, mouth curved into a wide smile. "i love you." a kiss to his chin. "i love you." a kiss to each cheek. "i love you." a kiss to his nose. "i love you." and finally, a chaste kiss to his lips. "i love you!"

Despite his carrying on with his reading and looking less focused than he should be, this is probably Hajime’s favourite moment of the day, whenever they are together: the moment they are both freed of any obligation they might have, and get to enjoy the luxury of having nothing to do except basking in each other’s presence. Oikawa also happens to make for an excellent weighted blanket, so - there is that advantage too (don’t tell them, though) (well, not too often). 

A warm breeze carries fragrance of the sea through an open window, and the murmurs of rolling waves and cheery voices of students enjoying the late afternoon on the nearby beach - Birtwistle University is a mere stone throw away, and as much as he had taken a keen liking to San Juan and Argentina? Hajime had been pretty proud, just a few days ago, when he had finally gotten to show Tooru the neighbourhood he had just moved into. California’s sunshine and white-sand beaches, palm trees, sea food and endless list of curiosities to see and do - what’s not to love about this little piece of heaven? 

A content sigh passes by his lips as Tooru, fresh out of the shower, settles on top of him (no other choice on a sofa, is there) (really, it’s because of the sofa) and Iwaizumi adjusts his arms around them to carry on with his reading, unbothered by the weight on his chest. Unbothered, comfortable, happy... yeah, a little piece of heaven. 

Oikawa smells like fresh soap and coconut, and of something else that is completely and distinctly them, that Iwaizumi loves and sinks into with every chance he gets; absent-mindedly, he continues to read with just one hand, the other moving down so fingers can gently curl into the softness of his partner’s hair. The absent-mindedness doesn’t last, of course (it never gets a chance to, when Tooru is in such close vicinity); attention immediately snatched and grabbed at by his demanding, and unequivocally loving partner; a first I love you, Iwa-chan! that he has heard a million times before, one that draws a millionth smile on his lips. “I know, Tooru.” 

Is that enough? Of course not. It never is, and quite frankly, he would get seriously worried if it ever was.

Which one is the enemy here, he wonders - the book or his divided attention? Probably both, but Tooru is a general with a battle plan; and a damn good one, at that. I love you; and a kiss. I love you! and another kiss. “I knoooooow you big sap!” Hajime protests, hearty laugh pouring from his chest and from his throat as he squirms in a poor attempt to protect himself from Oikawa’s relentless attacks. “Stop it, you’re gonna make us slip!” He giggles (thus most certainly ensuring that Oikawa will, in fact, not stop); immediately silenced by he tiniest kiss to his lips. 

Ah, dammit.  They win. Again.

His book slips to the floor and quietly lands on the carpet, a light thump smothered by the echoes of their shared laughters; his hands move to cusp his partner’s face and allow him a better view as he catches his breath. What on earth he has done, to deserve the way Oikawa looks at him, sunlight caught in warm chocolate eyes and brilliant smile, he will never know (and still thinks someone must have made a mistake when allocating him his share of luck in this lifetime). Green eyes soften, and a sunny smile of his own blooms on stern features. 

“I love you too, dummy.” The words come to him so easily, nowadays, as easily as breathing, as easily as his heart beating in his chest against his partner’s, as easily as the kiss he presses to their lips and to their smile. “I love you so much.” He grins again, and draws them in for another kiss - who would ever have enough of drinking sunshine directly from their lover’s lips? 

Perhaps he pushes his luck too much - perhaps they both do, because this is exactly at that moment, when Hajime rises on one elbow and Tooru shifts to hook their legs together, that luck decides to run and trip them on the way out; Hajime’s elbow suddenly slips and gives out, too close to the edge of the sofa, and their combined weights, well... let’s say the disaster could have been anticipated.

“WAH!” ZBLAM. Thankfully the floor isn’t too far but... still. What an abrupt end to their otherwise very enjoyable romantic moment. Fuck you, karma. “Aow.” Okay. Maybe there is one configuration in which Tooru is a little heavy. “... think I need to buy a larger couch.” Yep. Definitely worth thinking about. For future reference, y’know. 

[serialcomposer]

Brass bands have been in my head again. Particularly composers writing for them outside of the traditional idioms we think of today. Music for brass band as opposed to brass band music as it were.

Holst's inspiration from English folksong (so much less gentrified than Vaughn-Williams) and his sensitivity to the colour subtleties of the brass band (himself being a trombonist) leads to some absolutely beautiful moments (I'm particularly a fan of the trio of cornet, flugelhorn, and tenor saxhorn in the middle movement as an example of these things coming together).

I think about this (and to a much lesser extent about Elgar's Severn suite) and then moving forward to something like Grimethorpe Aria by Birtwistle which I just adore as a modern counterpart to this.

The brass band as cultural touchstone and how It's been left to stagnate somewhat.

[dare-g]

Cowards Bend the Knee (2003)

[sportofusalacrosse]

Top lacrosse video today: Fortnite Made A LACROSSE Skin

Top lacrosse news

„Philly grad men’s college roundup: Wierman, Spanos, Long help No. 1 Maryland roll in opener; Birtwistle sparks Syracuse, Gallagher & Snyder lead Navy” – phillylacrosse

„Men’s lacrosse: Traynor, Malone help Penn State rout Lafayette, 21-11, in opener” – phillylacrosse

„.@BerwynClub boys’ recruit: Chambersburg 2023 DEF Makosy commits to Lebanon Valley” – phillylacrosse

„Women’s Coach’s Poll: West Chester picked 2nd in PSAC East behind ESU” – phillylacrosse

Best tweets – 2023.02.05.

[citylifeorg]

92NY presents Sean Shibe, guitar, plays Barrios, Villa-Lobos, and more

Sean Shibe. Photo: Kaupo Kikkas Leading NYC cultural institution welcomes audiences to 22/23 Tisch Music Season The 92nd Street Y, New York (92NY), one of New York’s leading cultural venues, presents Sean Shibe, guitar, plays Barrios, Villa-Lobos, Adès, Birtwistle, and more, on February 8, 2023 at 7:30pm ET at the Kaufmann Concert Hall. One of the most versatile guitarists performing today,…