#cirque du mystique

[jloisse]

"(...) l'une des origines de l’apothéose impériale, le sentiment que sous l’apparence de l’Empereur se cachait un numen immortel, est incontestablement dérivé de l’expérience guerrière : l’imperator, originellement, était le Chef militaire acclamé sur le champ de bataille au moment de la victoire: mais à cet instant, il apparaissait aussi comme transfiguré par une force venue du haut, terrible et merveilleuse, qui donnait l’impression du numen. Cette conception d’ailleurs n’est pas seulement romaine, on la trouve dans toute l’antiquité classico-méditerranéenne, et elle ne se limitait pas aux généraux vainqueurs, mais s’étendait parfois aux champions des jeux olympique et des sanglants jeux du cirque. Dans l’Hellade le mythe des Héros se confond avec des doctrines mystiques comme l’Orphisme, identifiant le guerrier vainqueur à l’initié, vainqueur de la mort."

— Julius Evola, Métaphysique de la Guerre (1935)

[whileiamdying]

Harper's Bazaar N°6 en kiosque ce 24 août 2023

PAR LA RÉDACTION PUBLIÉ AUJOURD'HUI À 12H39

On le sait parce qu’elle l’a souvent dit dans des interviews, c’est un mot qui la laisse de glace. Mais combien de fois, au cours de son hallucinante carrière, Catherine Deneuve a-t-elle été qualifiée d’icône ? Combien de fois lui a-t-on demandé ce que ça faisait d’être dans la peau d’un tel symbole? Avec ce phrasé pressé, précipité, comme en cavale, et qui n’appartient qu’à elle, elle balaie l’image d’un revers de main. Elle a coutume de dire: “Je ne suis pas un monument.” Au fond, on comprend pourquoi l’actrice n’est pas à l’aise avec cette auréole. Elle fige, elle givre, elle grave dans le marbre de la légende, elle paralyse presque.

Catherine Deneuve, comme l’eau vive, est trop éprise de mouvement, de découvertes, de fugues. De surprises pour elle-même et pour les autres. Qui aurait imaginé qu’elle endosse la veste en tweed de Bernadette Chirac dans une comédie décalée ou qu’elle s’improvise patronne de cirque dans le prochain film du duo grolandais Kervern-Delépine ? Si les chefs-d’œuvre qu’elle a inspirés, ses pas de deux enchanteurs avec Demy, Truffaut, Buñuel, Polanski, Téchiné, Rappeneau & co, tout comme son blond mythique ou sa prétendue froideur sont des fétiches taillés pour l’“iconisation”, elle ne craint pas les sorties de route, les premiers films, les contre-emplois, les zones d’inconfort. Elle les embrasse même, avec la brûlure de vivre, sans jamais froisser sa trajectoire étoilée, sans cesser de s’appartenir.

À croire que son aura est pare-balles. Alors que tous les Harper’s Bazaar du monde célèbrent de concert le thème des “icônes” avec une couverture chorale sur Kendall Jenner, force est d’admettre que le sens de ces trois syllabes reste vaporeux. Certes, il est question de force d’incarnation, de don de la nature, de talent, de photogénie, de magnétisme, de rencontre avec son époque, d’un peu d’éternité aussi, mais pas que… Il y a du supplément d’âme, du mystère et du quasi mystique. Tout ça au shaker produit une formule magique et intimidante dont Catherine Deneuve, visiblement seule à vouloir l’ignorer, est la souveraine incarnation. Nous avons rêvé de Catherine Deneuve en couverture de Harper’s Bazaar France, nous vous l’offrons à vivre...

[aurevoirmonty]

"(…) l'une des origines de l’apothéose impériale, le sentiment que sous l’apparence de l’Empereur se cachait un numen immortel, est incontestablement dérivé de l’expérience guerrière : l’imperator, originellement, était le Chef militaire acclamé sur le champ de bataille au moment de la victoire: mais à cet instant, il apparaissait aussi comme transfiguré par une force venue du haut, terrible et merveilleuse, qui donnait l’impression du numen. Cette conception d’ailleurs n’est pas seulement romaine, on la trouve dans toute l’antiquité classico-méditerranéenne, et elle ne se limitait pas aux généraux vainqueurs, mais s’étendait parfois aux champions des jeux olympique et des sanglants jeux du cirque. Dans l’Hellade le mythe des Héros se confond avec des doctrines mystiques comme l’Orphisme, identifiant le guerrier vainqueur à l’initié, vainqueur de la mort."

Julius Evola, Métaphysique de la Guerre (1935)

[juni-writesx]

partners. jihyun/mc. pg.

written for the @/mysmecircuszine (under a different pen name. this one far less creative than that. hehe. my first time being featured in a zine!... and probably my last lol.)

mc uses they/them pronouns!

it is my hope that you enjoy photographer V and circus mime MC (who are also performance artists in an act together~) ♡

————————————————————

When they’re all dressed up like this — a black and white horizontal-striped shirt, black dress pants and black shoes,their faces painted snow-white while there are thick lines of black in a diamond shape around the eyes, their lips painted black as well —they’re supposed to be in character, strict orders courtesy of Ringmaster Han. Be silent. Look and play the part. Make the audience laugh at their antics of being stuck in an invisible box. Play tug-of-war with an invisible rope and invisible co-star.

“You can do that act alone, MC. The audience will need laughter for this. Besides, V and yourself will have the opportunity to elicit other emotions from the attendees during your partnered acrobalance act.”

“Of course, Ringmaster Han."

And they remain silent as they stand on the stage inside of the Big Top; the hot lights that shine above cause them to sweat a little. It’s not a new sensation, really… it occurs each time they practice their performance.

But right now, there’s no one to test their act for, as the seats are empty. They’d never really taken notice of just how many seats and how many rows there were. It was like a never ending sea.

“MC?”

There is, however, one other person on the stage with them.

 “Sorry…” they say softly, though their voice seems to echo in the emptiness of the tent. Quite unused to speaking while dressed like this. “What did you say, V?”

There is a camera in his hands that he lowers from his line of sight, and he gives MC a smile. “You don’t have to apologize,” and he lets out a soft chuckle. “And it’s alright to talk, you know. There’s no one here but us.”

They return his soft smile and exhale. “I wish I was dressed for our act. I’d feel more comfortable.”

“Ah. In time, we’ll be able to take our promotional pictures together. I’m even thinking of bringing Rui in for them so we’re able to be mid-performance.”

“That sounds like fun~.” MC’s smile grows as they turn just a bit to face him more.

“Wait… hold that.” He says, quickly bringing his camera back up to take a photograph. “Perfect. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” They reply, their facial expression becoming neutral again. “Though that won’t work for the promotional flyer. I know I was smiling, and Ringmaster Han would immediately shred it.”

V hums a little to himself. “I suppose you’re right. We’ll keep going, if you want.”

“I think we have to. Won’t the show be opening to the public soon?”

It takes his all not to blush to the tip of his ears. He should have been more careful with his words; he is the co-creator of the Cirque du Mystique, after all. How could he have forgotten that these photos were due sooner rather than later?

It's been more than a year since the plotting and planning of the Circus opening. Finding the right crew to assist in their big day had taken some time, and yet it was quicker than truly anticipated. With Jumin running the auditions for those who were outside of the RFA, he was strict and ruthless when finding just the right people to be part of the show and crew.

V was in attendance of the auditions and interviews the day MC arrived. His seat was next to Jumin and yet when MC took the stage, it was like they were the only person around. Their personality that had shown through in such a simple yet so complex act of tumbling across the stage, some contortions, contemporary dance, and theatrical antics, had captivated him from the start.

“I like them.” V had whispered to Jumin afterwards. 

“So do I.”

V just hadn’t realized to what extent he would come to like them, not just as a friend. Nor as just a member of the Circus. Or an eventual co-star of their act.

“...V?”

He shakes his head imperceptibly to collect himself. “Now,” he speaks as if he wasn’t just lost in thought, “are you ready?”

With a nod, MC pivots themselves so their body language isn’t so much towards V but more toward the camera itself, doing their best to be sort of like a model, despite not knowing a thing about modeling whatsoever. It's just a guess.

“Relax.” His voice is just as soft as theirs was when they’d first spoken, though less nervous. It was comforting, just as much as he is to them. “It’s just us.”

They try not to smile again and instead pose in a way where they are shrugging slightly and their arms are in the I don’t know position.

“You can talk while wearing that. In fact, I… would like it if you do.” He swallows back I like your voice, and I’m glad to hear it when I have the chance to.

“Are you sure Ringmaster Han won’t come in to check on us?”

“I promise, MC. Please, try not to be so nervous.”

One deep breath in and out, then another. “Alright.”

Although Jumin entering the Big Top while they are talking dressed as a mime isone of the top concerns MC has at the moment, there is another worry they had -- being there alone with V.

A good majority of the time whenever the two of them crossed paths, there were others around, and they were able to admire and watch him as he fluttered about and mingled with the fellow members of the RFA, as well as the rest of the cast and crew members of the circus.

And when they practiced their act, there would always be someone sitting in the seats — whether it was Rika and Zen, who’d be recovering from their own practices. Even Jumin, on occasion, to make sure everything was perfect for opening day.

Yet their act was so close and so intimate that even Yoosung had asked if V and MC had become smitten with one another at some point. To which the others replied with a laugh and needed to explain that it is their show, and half of the point of their performance.

“Are you sure you want to do something so personal, V?” Jumin inquired when the idea was proposed to him.

“Not everything has to be so serious. I think the audience will be interested in the tale of two people — one develops feelings from afar, while the other remains unaware. An unrequited yearning to be with one another.”

MC wasn’t sure if their co-star could read minds or if they were just that obvious when they moved with him during their performance  — when their hand began to linger within movements for just a little bit longer as time grew on, or the way he held them so close it made their heart race and eyes flutter shut even though they were supposed to lock eyes with him.

A few clicks of the camera’s shutter is heard as MC tries out various poses in regard to their act. “Do you think they’re coming out good?”

“Oh, yes.” Even if they weren’t, he truly didn’t mind. He’d purchased a special memory card for this. “I’m certain a lot of them are phenomenal. You’re a great model, MC.”

They’re grateful their face is painted with professional makeup or else he’d be able to see the blush that colors their cheeks. “You’re such a charmer.” They say with a laugh; knowing just how well with words he was. He has an air and way about him that could draw people in. 

They’ve seen the way everyone seems to follow his every word, including Jumin. And even their own.

When they hear the camera go off mid-laugh, they turn to glance at V. “Hey! Now that one definitely won’t work!” They take a step forward. “Why do you keep taking such casual photos of me?” A slight tilt of their head after they finish their inquiry to show their confusion.

“I’m making a photo album of behind the scenes of everyone’s photos,” he lies — quick thinking —  and swallows a little. “Just for the crew and RFA. They’ll be shown at the celebration of our opening day.”

“That sounds so cool~! I can’t wait to see all the photos!” Their voice is louder now, and very enthusiastic. The idea of seeing all the behind-the-scenes photographs interests MC, and they couldn’t wait to hear all the stories behind the photos he would put together.

They are certain there would be some clowning around by Seven and Saeran, where surely Saeran would be chasing after his brother after being sprayed by a flower that was attached to his outfit. Some photos of Yoosung juggling; where his tongue is sticking out because he is so focused on not dropping the bowling pins he had chosen to open his act with. They’d hoped that Jaehee would be smiling as she takes a break from taming and working with Elizabeth the 3rd. Rika could possibly be sitting in her hoop, taking breaths between the aerobatics she would be showing off, perhaps even chatting with Zen, who’d be standing around the same area that MC is at currently, draping a towel across his shoulders — having finished his shoot from the aerial silks that had been set up in the Big Top.

Perhaps even behind the scenes selfies of the Ringmaster and the photographer himself.

V feels guilty for lying to MC about why he is taking as many photos of them as possible, but he still isn’t entirely sure if he has the courage to come out and let them know the truth.

“We’ll take a few more photos.” He watches as MC does their best to wipe their brow of a bead of sweat without messing up their face paint. “And get you some water.”

“Water sounds fantastic right about now!”

Another click of the camera as V — no, Jihyun — catches the merriment in MC's expression and body language; the mirth in their eyes. He feels honored, blessed even, to have the opportunity to catch MC like this, especially dressed as they were.

MC, on the other hand, is highly confused as to why he keeps snapping pictures of them. "You'll be looking through photos of me forever, finding one to use, if you keep taking random pictures of me~!"

Oh, he truly doesn't mind, since he knows that it would possibly be a rare occasion for them to be present in each other’s company like this, he thoroughly enjoys having the chance to watch MC as they smile and laugh. It is simple, pleasant, and nice.

It makes his heart flutter, his cheeks flush as though they are practicing their act, he would blame the spotlight shining down on them if he would be asked why his cheeks were so red.

"You have wonderful artistic vision; I have seen some of your work before," — plastered around the fairgrounds are photographs that he had taken of various landscapes, of Elizabeth the Third. "Maybe you should help me pose for a good photo to use for the flyer!"

Jihyun smiles softly; the idea sounding like the best way he can be close to MC before they part ways for the day. Slowly, he lowers his camera so it dangles by the strap around his neck. "Of course. I'm sure we'll be able to come up with something…."

His steps echo throughout the Big Top as he approaches them; a smile curving his lips. “Hmm.” His voice is low  as he stops right behind them.

And he presses as close behind them as he could manage without the camera pressing into their back.

He dips his head down to their ear. “How about this…?” 

The softness and tenderness of his voice causes them to shiver as they feel his hands glide down their arms; fingers curling around their wrists as he maneuvers them gently. He truly has no idea how he wants them to look for a photograph, as he is sure all the ones he'd taken are truly ideal for him.

It's long past the point of him needing to get a photograph for a flyer, but his own selfish need of seeing MC smile, and being near them for more than just their performance and in passing moments of Circus meetings to prepare for opening day.

MC hopes that he couldn’t hear their heart race as they stand there, silent, for moments. “...This is fine.” they whisper as they turn their head to the side in order to see him. “As long as you’re alright with helping me pose.”

And he chuckles softly, so close to their ear and it thrills them. The familiar sensation of butterflies in their stomach

Just as he feels within his.

"....MC." their name is spoken before he has a chance to leave it on the tip of his tongue.

"Yes, V?"

One of his hands reaches for theirs and he gently curls his fingers in-between theirs, and their fingers fall together, intertwined, with ease. It's a silent request from him that they know all too well from their performance. He would like them to turn around —

and they oblige. Spinning around as though they are practicing their act, and his free hand swiftly, yet oh so gently, lands on their hip without any hesitation on his part.

Their eyes lock, chests rising and falling with their breaths, almost in sync, as if they'd finished a rehearsal. "I…." he begins to say,but he's cut off by MC's lips pressing against his.

He cannot help but sigh into the kiss before his lips curve into a slight smile. The fluttering sensation increases as he feels MC return his smile.

They both hate to part from this, but they know that they must. And when they do, he breathes out softly, "...I want you to call me Jihyun..." 

“Hey…!” Yoosung’s voice rings out before MC has a chance to respond, and it causes the two on the Big Top stage to jump — startled... yet they still stand so close to one another. “...Does this mean you two are finally aware of each other's feelings?”

Jihyun glances down at them inquisitively, to which the smile he felt against his lips reemerges on their face. “...Well, MC?” he asks softly. 

“Hmm~” they hum teasingly. “I dunno~ kissing isn’t part of our act. And it's certainly not part of my act!” They stand on tip-toes and use the sleeve of their shirt to clean off the trace of black lipstick from Jihyun's lips.

It only takes him a moment to reach for that hand, take it gently in his, and to kiss their sleeve. “Yes, Yoosung. I believe we are aware now."

“It’s about time.” Jumin chimes in. “...I hope you have some workable photos, V. I didn’t request these promotional flyers for you to go to MC with a love confession.”

A squeak comes from MC and they can feel the tips of their ears and the apples of their cheeks burn as they try so desperately to hide behind Jihyun. “I thought you said he wouldn’t come in!!!”

And Jihyun laughs before saying, “We’re fine, MC. C’mon. Let’s go get that water… and grab something to eat while we’re at it; I’m sure you could use it. Besides…. I’d like to spend some more time with you, if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” they reply as they give his hand a squeeze. “Let me freshen up first. I’ll see you in the food tent.” Once again, they go on their tip-toes but this time it's to place a gentle kiss upon his cheek.

Now Jihyun blushes — happily. Relieved. And outwardly just as smitten as their act portrays. In much the same way as MC is right now.

“I’ll see you there.”

[travelingjoe]

Montreal, Canada — August 2023. We hadn’t really planned it but what better place to see a Cirque du Soleil than their home province of Montreal. Caught the Echo show which we think was about global warming. The costumes and feasts of human daring were fascinating. Wrapped up with some late night nibbles at Mystique in the hip Mile End area.

[runlela]

12 novembre 2022

Week-end à Hell Bourg, au beau milieu du cirque de Salazie pour voir le festival Arléo, festival d'arts... dans les hauts. Au programme, impromptus musicaux, théâtre et danse d'impro, podcasts en tous genres sur la vie créole dans les hauts, exposition photos, atelier de Light painting, mapping sur les façades, concert et contes en créole. Tout était super beau et très bien fait, les artistes incroyablement bons. C'est une belle occasion de découvrir ce village de cette manière. L'arrivée de la brume a plongé le village dans une ambiance mystique qui renforcait la puissance des œuvres et du lieu. Magique !

Thicoco

[indigosees]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ☁ Wanted to join in on the circus fun at @mysmecircuszine​ and made a moodboard（＾∀＾●）ﾉｼ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

something nice and cute, just how id imagine MC’s circus date with Yoobbe would be (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ for added effect, do listen to Hot Air Balloon by Owl City!

[casualpastelgay]

Welcome to the Midnight Circus, where behind the tent there is darkness.

Preorders are open for the @mysmecircuszine pick up a copy (or three) [here]!

[slavghoul]

A really nice article from this month's Classic Rock (6/2022) focusing on the atmosphere of Ghost shows and what Tobias is like on stage versus in private.

THE GREAT PRETENDER

The choral wells of Gregorio Allegri’s Miserere Mei, Deus drift through the audience at Manchester Arena. It’s Saturday night, the mood is high and a cathedral is being built on stage. Behind the curtain, eye catch glimpses of the sort of theatre normally associated with the Iron Maidens, Rammsteins and Alice Coopers of this world. Giant steps. High walls and arches. Ornate stained glass window backdrops. More dry ice than Kate Bush’s Wuthering Heights video, dotted with a scattering of men in hard hats. Stonehenge this is not.

The curtain drops. The opening guitar glitter of Kaisarion bursts into our faces. Punters wearing nuns’ habits, crucifixes and corpse paint gaze up like children in a sweet shop, while Nameless Ghouls in gas masks are illuminated by cracking pyrotechnics. As riffs and drum thunder roll out like groovy cavalry, marrying heavy mystique with Def Leppard-sized hooks, it’s easy to see why Metallica and Dave Grohl are fans. The most rapturous applause, though, is reserved for their mercurial leader. An impishly charismatic figure, masked by black-and- white face paint. Hair slicked back with grey. Microphone in hand. Part Victorian military dandy, part Joel Grey’s MC from Cabaret in tight black skinny jeans and black leather gloves, Papa Emeritus IV strides, skips and gesticulates with the precision and campery of a seasoned Broadway star. And although there are thousands watching, those painted eyes of his have an oddly penetrative, Mona Lisa-esque effect. All-seeing. It’s as if he’s looking at you. Welcome to the Ghost show.

A few hours earlier we’re in a Grade Il-listed hotel on Manchester's Oxford Road, lifting an armchair with a short, polite Swedish guy in a band T-shirt. Silver chains clink at his wrists. A skull ring hulks round one finger. His generously spiked hair is jet-black, contrasting with almost bloodless skin. He could have wandered in from one of the rock pubs across the road.

"Master,” Tobias Forge says with a smile, pulling back his jacket, when asked about the T-shirt. “They’re an American eighties death metal band. They’re not very good, but they're cool!”

It’s surreal to think that this is the man who will slink across the stage as Papa Emeritus IV tonight (the latest incarnation of Forge’s fictitious, ecclesiastical one-man dynasty). The 41-year-old conductor at the heart of the 700 cues, 45 or so crew members and four tour buses that make up the Ghost experience; a production that, in some ways, feels more akin to the Cirque Du Soleil than to a rock show. It’s a globetrotting colossus, following its doomy, cultish origins in Linkoping, Sweden in 2006.

“Some people prefer ad-hoc rock bands like Pearl Jam or Springsteen, who come up on stage in whatever they wore on the street and just start playing,” he says, quickly adding: "which I love; I love Pearl Jam, I love Bruce Springsteen. But that’s not what we do. We don’t improvise that much. A lot of the show is free-form, which makes it edgy, but there’s still a script.”

Having released a gloriously grandiose new album, Impera, Ghost returned to the live circuit this year as co-headliners with Volbeat in the USA, causing some political “head-butting” when Ghost went on second every night. As Forge implies, they are not so much ‘hard to follow'-’ as logistically impossible. Now; at the start of this European tour, they’re very much on top - with Uncle Acid & The Deadbeats and Twin Temple in support slots.

“Co-billing for us is not necessarily a great thing,” Forge reasons, carefully. “What we’re doing is not compatible with many other bands. Not necessarily the sound; I don’t see a problem for a fan to absorb both. But if it’s going to be a forty-five-minute changeover, is that great for the crowd that paid for these tickets? I can order ten courses I really like, but I can only eat one. I’m not sure it’s doing the desired trick.”

There’s a cool flash of fanaticism about Forge, just detectable behind his approachable demeanour. He looks you straight in the eye. He pauses to consider his answers. During our conversation he’ll compare putting on a show to a football season, making a film, running a restaurant and going to war. All are analogies he’s used before, and all support the sense of auteurship that ripples through the Ghost world (as well as echoing Forge’s own fondness for sports, Stanley Kubrick and good food).

But there are other sides to him. The geeky classic-rock lover, who watches live Queen and Iron Maiden clips to get pumped before shows. The guy who on tour goes out to football and hockey games. The arty urbanite with friends in music, film and amusement parks back home in Stockholm. The happily married father of teenage twins, who binge-watched The Sopranos, Game Of Thrones and Stranger Things with his family over lockdown. The reluctant frontman who, if he had his way, would be Ghost’s guitarist.

“But that’s like complaining about not being the general because you got to be the king instead. I would have felt more fluid being the guitar player, but the difference would have been that, mask or no mask, my on-stage persona would have been closer to my real one - my actual one, my private one - than it is nowadays.”

Over at the arena, the gap between those personas increases. As Impera's lead single Call Me Little Sunshine starts up, Papa returns in glittering cardinal's robes. He looks like a Christmas tree. Freddie Mercury via the Vatican. Liberace for the holy orders.

Back home, conversely, Forge marvels at the chops of friends like Fredrik Akesson, Opeth’s lead guitarist who played on Impera, embellishing the whole record with splashes of virtuosic, 80s-rocking flair.

“I mourn the fact I get to play the guitar so little over the course of my life, because I love playing,” Forge says, twisting his skull ring, “and I think I am a better musician than I am a singer. I just happen to be a good singer in Ghost.”

A self-described jack of all trades, the place you're most likely to find Forge, on tour, is behind a drum kit. Backstage he pounds through Top 40 hits as part of a mobile workout regimen. Foreigner’s Urgent, Carry On Wayward Son by Kansas, Lenny Kravitz’s Are You Gonna Go My Way? and The Guess Who’s American Woman are all on his go-to list.

In the past he relished the travel aspect of band life, ducking out to explore new sites and record shops. So much so that it began to tire him out, pre-show. Now, he mostly sticks to a strict routine of workouts and walking with audiobooks - most recently Jan Guillou’s Carl Hamilton series, Sweden’s politically astute answer to James Bond.

“Ten books, eighteen hours,” he says. “That’s good for ten thousand steps, and you can do calls when you’re walking.”

On stage the seven Nameless Ghouls are in similar ship shape, darting from the menace of From The Pinnacle To The Pit to a galloping Spillways - complete with guitar duels, knowing glances and gestures. Even without facial expressions their performances feel characterful, not to mention being shit-hot on a technical level. It says a lot about them, as people, that they’re happy to be in this group anonymously.  

For almost a decade Forge was similarly hidden. He spoke to journalists from behind curtains or masks. Officially he only revealed his identity in 2017, following a lawsuit from ex-bandmates. These days, living in a celebrity-heavy pocket of Stockholm (the Skarsgard acting dynasty are among his neighbours) he’s relatively undisturbed, except for any passing rock fans who recognize him from video interviews on YouTube, and a few Google images. How does that level of visibility sit with him? Does he enjoy doing interviews, for instance, while unmasked?

“I guess from a therapeutic point of view, speaking so much about yourself, your background and your motivation of why you’re doing this, it does have a cathartic function. But I definitely reach a point each day where I don’t want to talk any more. As much as people think that as an artist you like to revel in yourself...” he catches himself. “Look, I’m an exhibitionist, of course, but I definitely get to a point where I get really bummed talking about myself after a while.”

Perhaps this explains the desire to inhabit other personas, and makes sense of his latent acting ambitions.

“Yes,” he says with a laugh when asked if there are specific characters he’d love to play, “but I can’t say because it's part of how I view myself, and that might not rhyme with the rest. As an actor you are working with your physical attributes as your currency, so I know being five foot nine, white, with a certain body shape, I couldn’t do everything on the menu.”

In the Ghost universe, Forge bypasses such restrictions, starring in it and directing the various other parts. Mid-set at Manchester Arena, the audience’s mouths stretch into grins as Papa Nihil - an ancient ‘mentor’ cardinal in aviators - is wheeled out in an open coffin. This was not expected. Supposedly they killed him off in Mexico just before the first lockdown, but here he is, ‘reanimated’ by stage hands to deliver Miasma's saxophone solo. It’s all very Alice Cooper, with a dash of Benny Hill.

“I like to compare it to running a restaurant, because people...” Forge searches for the words. “You grew tired of your quiche or whatever a long time ago, even if it’s your grandma’s recipe, but people expect it to taste the same every night because they don’t come in and eat it every day. They expect the quiche to taste the way it did, because they brought two friends with them.”

So what dish would Ghost be?

“Because of the mixed nature of the music that’s combined,” he muses, “I guess it’s a calzone, with sushi in it, with cream on top.”

As the hits keep on coming, they make good on that sushi-calzone-with-cream-on-top concept. The Ghouls storm into Kraken-sized riffer Cirice, and Papa Emeritus reappears in bat wings – because why not? There are smoke jets, more dry ice, new robes, a fancy hat that (at certain angles) looks a bit like antlers... And then come the flames. Big ones. Fucking loads of them, giving the pyromaniac crews behind Slipknot and Rammstein a run for their money, before leading into He Is - a satirical yet stirring singalong with ABBA in its veins, completed following the suicide of Forge’s friend Selim Lemouchi (of Dutch occult rockers The Devil’s Blood) in 2014. Four years previously, his music-loving older brother died suddenly, the same day the first Ghost songs were released. Death runs deep in this music - in the fortitude it’s taken Forge to run with it.

But they're not done yet.

The metallic crunch of Mummy Dust is swiftly offset by Papa donning a blue sparkly jacket. “Let me hear you say ‘oomph’!” he roars into the audience, followed by what might be “did you feel it in your pants?!” - but it’s hard to tell through the make-up and an accent that sounds increasingly Compare The Meerkat-esque.

Indeed, for all Papa’s suave qualities his stage banter comes with an enchantingly befuddled edge; somewhere between a swashbuckling lothario and a slightly mad pensioner, but less creepy than that sounds. Is this the same softly spoken Scandi guy who chatted earlier about doing his 10,000 steps and watching hockey games?

“We’ve had a good hang!” he declares, by way of a pre-encore ‘farewell’. “I hope you leave feeling... well hung?!”

From there it’s time for a dynamite brace of Enter Sandman (they provided a version for Metallica’s Blacklist guest covers album last year) and Dance Macabre - the least metal song ever recorded by a band with such a metal-friendly image as Ghost.

“Just one more?” Papa shouts to the whooping masses. “And then you go out into the Manchester night, and either you fuck someone, or you go fuck yourself! How about that?”

With that, the band nail an addictive Square Hammer, and the cheers shoot up by several decibels.

Back at the hotel, just before he disappears to gear up for the evening ahead, Tobias Forge considers how it feels when he steps on stage. Transformed. Ready.

“I would say phenomenal,” he replies. “It’s one of the few moments where I don’t think about much else. Most of the time I am thinking of something else. I’m worrying about all kinds of stuff at the same time. The best nights are when you flow through them, and the worst nights are when you think: ‘Oh shit, I forgot the last step, I need to go back,’ and you start thinking about it.”

If that happens tonight, they hide it well. Curtain calls arc taken to the pastoral strains of Emmylou Harris's Sorrow In The Wind, and as Papa and the Ghouls wave, blow kisses and throw plectrums into the adoring audience there’s something reassuringly innocent about it all.

When children learn the truth about Santa Claus, they often keep believing anyway because they want to. They play along with stockings by the chimney, or Dad/Uncle Pete/whoever in the red suit, because it’s more fun that way. The same thing happens with Ghost. Ultimately it’s make-believe. A mystery with a sparkling rock soundtrack.

 ‘Fun’ can feel like a dismissive term. But as we’ve been reminded tonight, there is power in fun. Power in big, rousing guitars. Power in brilliantly entertaining spectacles. Not least of all, in recent times, fun offers cathartic escape like little else. The means to smile instinctively. Restoration for anyone who’s ever felt crushed by life.

“I would put on Live After Death before going on stage because it takes me near to the dream, rather than thinking of the practical nature of today,” Forge reasons. “That’s what it’s all about. All we’re doing is dreaming.”

Fistfulls of 'Ghost dollars' are scattered by roadies as house lights go up, the smell of burning permeates the arena and, finally, we wake up.

[jinjinranran]

Preview of my 2nd piece for @mysmecircuszine ! 💖💖💖 you can find this one in the SFW part - Cirque du Mystique 😊🎪🎡

Preorders are open till September 4th ⭐ get your copy HERE! ⭐

[jloisse]

"(...) l'une des origines de l’apothéose impériale, le sentiment que sous l’apparence de l’Empereur se cachait un numen immortel, est incontestablement dérivé de l’expérience guerrière : l’imperator, originellement, était le Chef militaire acclamé sur le champ de bataille au moment de la victoire: mais à cet instant, il apparaissait aussi comme transfiguré par une force venue du haut, terrible et merveilleuse, qui donnait l’impression du numen. Cette conception d’ailleurs n’est pas seulement romaine, on la trouve dans toute l’antiquité classico-méditerranéenne, et elle ne se limitait pas aux généraux vainqueurs, mais s’étendait parfois aux champions des jeux olympique et des sanglants jeux du cirque. Dans l’Hellade le mythe des Héros se confond avec des doctrines mystiques comme l’Orphisme, identifiant le guerrier vainqueur à l’initié, vainqueur de la mort."

— Julius Evola, Métaphysique de la Guerre (1935)

[zennyshoneybunch]

🎪 Sneak Peeks 🎪

Hey, everyone!

As you all must know by now, pre-orders for our Mysme Circus Zine opened on August 6 and will remain open until you all get your copy!! Ha, joking! They'll be open until September 4.

In case you haven't got your copy yet, here's a little sneak peek of one of my pieces for Cirque du Mystique, the sfw zine, featuring the handsomest of them all - ZEN.

If you enjoyed that, make sure you read the entire thing by ordering the Cirque du Mystique zine here! 😉 @mysmecircuszine

🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪

[reifromrfa]

Mysme Circus Zine Previews

There's only 30 minutes left for the @mysmecircuszine preorders! I haven't been active here lately because I've had the honor of doing the layout for the zine ;w; I hope you guys support it, the profits will go to World of Children!

Here are my previews for both the Cirque du Mystique and the Midnight Circus! Thank you guys for all the support and don't forget to grab yours before it closes ;)

CIRCUS SHOP

[juni-writesx]

Masterlist.

♡ mystic messenger

• jumin/reader

• jihyun/reader

partners. written for Cirque du Mystique, a circus AU fanzine.

• juminv

(eventual) proposal thing. but right now just a thing. "tv 14" if it was on television. who knows how to rate this writing other than bad? hints of sexual intimacy.

• juminv/reader

• jumin drabbles

♡ genshin impact

• zhongli/reader

untitled. comfort fluff. pg.

first kiss scenario. pg.

• zhongli drabbles

wip — you. pg.

• yanfei drabbles

• yoimiya drabbles

♡ ace attorney

• mitsumayo

it was an accident. fluff. pg.

spontaneous. fluff. pg.

• feyquill

• maya drabbles

september 5, 2016. mentions of blood and murder. pg-13.

Requests: Open! I enjoy writing fluff and sometimes 🔞 scenarios (though I will not touch anything that has non-consenting characters or actions. We adore romance and sweetness in this house!) Hurt with a lot of comfort. I do not write angst, as I'm just not good at it. ^^;

Please respect my ships. I do not tolerate any ship bashing or hate. Anything of the sort will be deleted and you will be blocked. 🚫 I'm too old and too tired to participate in ship hate and/or discourse.

[ramblingsfromthecrypt]

Come one, come all to Cirque Du Mystique! I’m your ringleader, the vivacious Veikko! Tonight I will transport you into a land of mystery. Where the impossible suddenly seem a bit more probable!

[mysmecircuszine]