#harum logs

[sailormanrahh]

INKTOBER 20303 DAY 31-EDN AHAHAHAHAHAHH AHAH H... HAHAER RAHHH RHAHHHREASHDSAH!!!!

Idiots aFUCK YOU Ire infinite And thinkI FINISHE INKOBERing men are numbered Don't I FUCKING FUCKNISHED ITkid yourself This isn't I GUVKINGnews

Let's startHAHAH RAHHRH !!!!!!!!RAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!11 with Tristan BongGRAHAHREAYSHD GR. ... RAHDAHghhh oohhhhohohh. AOOOOOo, alone in the race ConscriptioIM SO SDFDASHUH AUUHHH hhh aUHHHHHHHH!!! RAUUUGHHHHHHH!!!n calling his name One more nightGRAH RGAEHRAG R AHRAH of freedom An heiress hiRAH UUUUUGGG UHHHHU HOOHOHHHHHHOgh up atop the stands

And theOOHHH.... OHOHUUUUU RAHHHH RHAHH!!!! RAHHHHHHHH!!! lines are open That'IM IM ISNDHAUD WHASUD ASIDNSDAs Lucky Star, Eye Sore, Doctor Murphy, Sun Tzu The Clap, MAHAHA. ..ARAAHAHRHAURHAUHAURHAUr. Winner, Spot, Wallace, Mrs. Gonorrhoea Perfect P, DSAYDASU SUFUCK YOU FUCK YO IM AHHR RUU AUUUGUHHeadman Walking, and The Company Favorite

A son hands dad's harUM FI IM GO ING TO FUCKUNG FIP A SESDK IM SO AUUUUGHHH AUUGHFDGDIASI RAOOOUUHUHHH RAOOOOOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOd earned cash to the clerk And she laughs at theIM GOU UUGGG OSDO WOA O IOIII IISDA ADASDIAMSDASU EYES YESU EYS gall of the small guido lips "Put it all on Spot, tYES YESY EShe kid's already won" John Tylеr smeareYESY EYSY ESYS YESAYd with last nights beer Reflеct vomitinUISDU AIIU UHUHHg Chris who dreams his dream is near In the form of ASUUSAU UGUUGIGGGIGIMrs. Gonorrhea

Reporter rAUUGOOGOGOOOeporting the state of affairs Inwardly asksOHOHH... OHHHHH of his prime time hair Why it can't quitWAUUUUHHHOOHOHOHHe rival the manes on these mares The smoothness ciiiii isaio ooasuau HAHAU AUUHA HAUHAUAHAUHUan't compare The gleaming apAHAUHAUHAUHAH AUHAUHA UAHUApliances attract attention The raffle prizeVKLDSFHJDASKJDAs too many to mention Displayed all oveSADHSYAOD9WPOIE JFDHHJSA UGUHUHHr the stadium entrance

HypodermiYASUDHASJD AOOUHHO HOHOc needles Hidden undIIFSUDFUSDDHSDJHDASer a coat sleeves Of sweaty wiseKSAID UHHHUH UHUASD AUWGU!!!!-guy money earning men In search UU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!of the horse to apprehend

The race isIHDKH ASHAHAHAHAH AHHDASHSA about to begin The race is JASUDH ASHUAUHAUHabout to begin

Blondie lockeUASHDASH HAHASUHA UYUF UCKC UFCK FUCK FUCK FUCJZAUA UUGUGH HHUd in 4 Eyes' arms SquirminUASDAS UAUAUHHHHg like a dying fish That's thUUUU OOHHHI IHA W AAHAHAHAHe last I can recall

The raBMBGIMF DK AI IAII!!!!ce was ran Someone JHJAH HAHAHAlost, someone won I came and I stayJKHSD ASIUYHEEL LSOA OLETS GOed and the same ever since, outside The freaks of LETS OGOOOO LETS FUCKING SOthe wilderness, open in spring The time before tGOOO OELTS UFCKime was the time to sing

Unidentified sRAHHHHHH RHASL ETong surging through the brush Transcription futLETS UFCINGF SAODASIUDSAIDUAile, let alone the rush You miss when huUAUUUUUnched and scribbling notes Here no journalisOO....UUUUJJJm is ever in vogue

Despite the attemOOO.....pts of doctors and saints None have recorded its heavenly grace But I stayedIJJUUIIIOOOHH HHHHHH... HHHH HHH, and stayed, and stayed

That race was ran thirty years back And each dayIIHH since the same Peel back the witness of a million catastrophes To see the spotty remnants each has left

I forget in which cups I've pissed From which I can sOOOOUUUtill drink Tonight it's so cold my feet are shrinking Groping around for the sides of my boot

It's no night for the blind With all these sirens I envy the deaf mutes Some killer on the loose again Some idiot at large Some Chinese moose again

An excuse for the sarge No sirens all silent The log cabin's silent No killer either No creeks in the floor Log cabin, what cabin? A shack's all I have

Yes, my cubbyhole's stuffed with skeletons But my neighbours are stuffed with anthrax Where does that leave us?

I came thirty years back From Salafessien, via South Schlagenheim To Sunterum and Sunterime The late Sun Sugar's home town

Buried not far from here My only friend Neighbor, what neighbor?

My shack is all alone This pen, changing lines One line at a time Blindness? What blindness? Sweet blindness

A little laughter, a little silence A little magic, a little kindness A little all over me, yes me

The first, the last, the everything No trace of anything No sin, no life, no fun, no time, no any-fucking-thing No one, no yes, no house, no shack, no A, no B, no C, no et cetera No one, no two, no et cetera No school, no life, no work, no time, no book No art, no point, no truth, no use, no friend No know, no knot, no hole, no birth, no end, no real, no fake

No king of this useless nameless non-land No end to this nothing nonsense non-song No day set for my saviors arrival, to carry me far Across green waters, above the sky or below the depths Among the white cloud or red steppe

Or to fly forever in-between ends Or in-between in-betweens Or in-between no-between Or no nothing, no saviour, no journey, no end A thousand years of no nothing hiding from nothing

No reason to hide sins or reason not to sin No reason to pretend No reason to pretend there is not no reason

Oh, yes Blondie ran on the track 4 Eyes got stuck in the rail The reporter was caught getting sweaty in the stable Blondie gone, 4 Eyes gone, Guidos gone, Clerk gone, Chris gone

Tristan Bongo the man who never left Tristan Bongo never left Still here I stayed

The clown can be a martyr The whore can be an angel

The hack becomes a master The crass becomes divine The infinite, infinitesimal

And all sins irrepressible

No use digginHI GUYS . Hello all. i just want to say that i fucking did it guys i fucking did it i fucking finished inktober i can finally top stdrawing now i can stop drawing im so proud of myselfg holes to hide The rupture comes and leaves no stone unturned

So don't wish for anything

The clown can be a martyr The whore can be an angel

The hack becomes a master The crass becomes divine

The infinite, infinitesimal All sins irrepressible

[pham-pham]

Summer-Munchies-LOG: #Yummies!

for AugustCarnival 3rd mission

hai hai, dengan nalika di sini! 👋🏻

enaknya kalau lagi panas summer gini tuh makan yang ringan sama minum yang seger-seger gak sih? nah! khusus buat kali ini, aku akan masak menu kesukaanku yang cocok banget dimakan di musim panas ^—^

kita mulai dari menu yang pertama!

1. Spaghetti Aglio Olio (+Udang)

bahan-bahan:

450 gram mi spaghetti

udang vaname, dikupas bersih

air rebusan pasta

10 butir bawang putih (atau sesuai selera), cincang kasar

garam dan lada

bubuk cabai (opsional)

keju parmesan (opsional)

parsley kering (opsional)

olive oil

cara membuat:

rebus mi spaghetti pada air mendidih dan tambahkan 1 sendok makan olive oil. setelah teksturnya al dente, pisahkan air rebusannya.

kemudian panaskan secukupnya olive oil, tumis bawang putih sampai harum, dan masukkan udang, masak sampai matang.

tambahkan sedikit air rebusan pasta supaya tumisan tidak terlalu kering.

masukkan mi spaghetti, aduk rata bersama bawang putih cincang dan udangnya.

bumbui dengan garam dan lada, dan beri bubuk cabai jika suka rasa lebih pedas.

periksa semua rasa hingga pas, lalu matikan api jika sudah pas.

susun pasta di piring saji, taburi keju parmesan dan parsley

hidangkan selagi hangat! :D

2. Iced Lemon Tea

bahan-bahan:

1 bungkus kecil teh tubruk

1/2 buah lemon, ambil airnya

3 sdm gula pasir/ sesuai selera

500 ml air

es batu secukupnya

cara membuat:

masak teh tubruk dengan air mendidih, sampai warna kemerahan dan matikan api.

masukkan gula pasir dan perasan air lemon ke dalam gelas.

masukkan potongan lemon ke dalam gelas, dan tuangkan teh sambil di saring, aduk hingga gula larut.

terakhir, tambahkan es batu sesuai selera!

[600shekels]

2 Chronicles 2: 11-16. "Baruch Hashem, Because God."

11 Hiram king of Tyre replied by letter to Solomon:

“Because the Lord loves his people, he has made you their king.”

The Letter is Baruch Hashem, "Because God Sees."

What does it mean?

B”H (ב״ה) is an acronym for the Hebrew words baruch Hashem (“blessed is G‑d”) or b’ezrat Hashem (“with the help of G‑d”). Others opt for BS”D (בס״ד), which is an acronym for the Aramaic phrase b’syata d’shmaya (“with the help of heaven”).

(The quotation mark before the last letter is the Hebrew way of signalling that this is an acronym or an otherwise non-standard word.)

Ha= the substantive seer

Shem= all that can be consciously known in the creation

One also says in tandem, Baruch Adonai, "I kneel before the God of Israel, Pillar of the Sun Who advances time forever, illuminating the darkness with His Light."

Ad=avdances time

On= the pillar of the sun

Ai= to twist out iniquity

Together, Baruch Hashem, Baruch Adonai means "I kneel before the God of Israel, the Source of the sun who freed us from darkness, Who is the Knower of all and advances time forever."

12 And Hiram added:

“Praise be to the Lord, the God of Israel, who made heaven and earth! He has given King David a wise son, endowed with intelligence and discernment, who will build a temple for the Lord and a palace for himself.

13 “I am sending you Huram-Abi, a man of great skill, 14 whose mother was from Dan and whose father was from Tyre.

He is trained to work in gold and silver, bronze and iron, stone and wood, and with purple and blue and crimson yarn and fine linen. He is experienced in all kinds of engraving and can execute any design given to him. He will work with your skilled workers and with those of my lord, David your father.

Harum Abi means "Father's Nobility" whose mother was Dan, "the ability to govern" from Tyre, "to incline towards confrontation."

The above is a kind of curriculum design which Solomon requested of Hiram of Tyre, who responded by sending a teacher.

First comes reading and writing of scripture. All gathering of intelligence and tuning of the mind comes from scripture. The multiplication table, the periodic table, alphabets, botany, astronomy, Bachian counterpoint, they create a means by which the undercurrent of the phenomenal universe can be made malleable by man.

Engraving, metal work, weaving, everything we do depend on the way the scriptures have extracted the knowledge from the immense and splendid mind of God and turned them into a methodological approach for mankind. We learn religion so we find their graces.

15 “Now let my lord send his servants the wheat and barley and the olive oil and wine he promised, 16 and we will cut all the logs from Lebanon "purity" that you need and will float them as rafts by sea down to Joppa "to be beautiful". You can then take them up to Jerusalem "to be peaceful.”

Hiram concludes his note back to Solomon saying, "use what I am willing to teach you for the making of great lasting beauty in your lives, because this is what God has commanded."

And it seems we must now take into consideration that Judaism as we are coming to understand it was really invented by a foreigner to Israel named Hiram, who was the King of Lebanon.

Without him, neither David nor Solomon would have gotten the regalia they needed to restart the Israelite Civilization ensuring the old and innovative traditions of the Jewish people to survived to this day.

[rotcivnasrabb]

Procol Harum

A Salty Dog

All hands on deck, we've run afloat

I heard the captain cry

"Explore the ship, replace the cook"

"Let no one leave alive!"

Across the straits, around the horn

How far can sailors fly?

A twisted path, our tortured course

And no one left alive

We sailed for parts unknown to man

Where ships come home to die

No lofty peak, nor fortress bold

Could match our captain's eye

Upon the seventh seasick day

We made our port of call

A sand so white, and sea so blue

No mortal place at all

We fired the guns, and burned the mast

And rowed from ship to shore

The captain cried, we sailors wept

Our tears were tears of joy

Now many moons and many Junes

Have passed since we made land

A salty dog, the seaman's log

Your witness, my own hand

Oh, keep-, oh, come on, it's still good

It's got to come in a bit sooner than that

[clippermedia]

You might not know his name, but you know his music. The lyricist who wrote 'Whiter Shade of Pale' had a long and fruitful career with the rock band Procol Harum. They were anything but a one-hit wonder.

[lilibethdrawsreylo]

Silas? Silas!

A theory about / analysis of Silas’ movements because the idea that he’s been sitting in one place for six years peeves me greatly. 

So, first things first, he hasn’t been. Travis calls him a nomad and mentions sightings of him at one point. He also has a map in his office that looks like this:

I don’t know much about reading maps, so I can’t tell how vast of a territory that is, but it should cover the entirety of the Hackett Woods, at least, seeing as that’s where the hunt takes place. That’s a lot of land according to the game (the ByB end credits podcast, to be specific). 

It’s clear that Silas doesn’t just hang out around one summer camp. He’s moving around the territory but probably has established routes - “nomad” kind of implies that. 

And based on that, I would guess that the Hacketts also haven’t been hunting him in their back yard for six years. They’ve probably been following those sightings / their general idea of Silas’ paths, although, yeah, they haven’t been leaving their forest. Kaylee says so in her letter to Constance:

“...I wanna know what’s outside the forest...”      

When the events of the game take place, Silas likely happens to be back in the area closest to the camp. 

Another thing that, in my opinion, implies that Silas doesn’t stay in one place is Eliza’s dialogue from her death scene:

She repeats that she’ll wait for him several times. She is the one pinned to the land close to the camp (literally, if you fail her QTE), not Silas. Also please take a close look at the screenshot above. With this image in mind, let’s move to my second theory [a gaaame theory!] related to Silas. 

Silas’ lair =/= the place where the fire took place. How so?

(Besides the obvious, as in, Travis having no idea there’s a place in the woods filled with stuff from Harum Scarum. Like, duh, of course it’s not the same spot where a huge fire started by his family members took place. Come on.)

In Eliza’s scene, we can see that the traveling show is set up in an open area. The lair, when it’s found by Laura in the prologue, is described as engulfed by the forest - but that’s too much forest to have grown around it in merely six years.

The screenshot is a bit dark but there’s a huge tree to the right of the lair and a log behind it. The cage isn’t near such trees in the flashback. Besides, there aren’t any other burnt structures around the lair, just the forest. 

So what is this place? Well, Silas probably made it for himself after the fire. He’s only a werewolf for one night a month. Most of the time, he’s just a man. He’d need shelter for when he’s around and in his human form. Sure, he’s “feral” but he’d still be capable of dragging stuff around and arranging it as he sees fit. 

It’s probably not very far from the original place (as indicated by a partially burnt Harum Scarum poster Laura sees pinned to a tree) but it’s deep enouth in the thicket to have remained hidden until Laura happens upon it.

Another detail to speak for this theory, imo, is the trunk Laura finds.

How and why would it get there on its own? It’s found in a small ravine - that’s nowhere near where its original owner, a perforemer, would’ve placed it.

Which leads to my final thoughts about Silas - and they’re sad. He took what remained of Harum Scarum into the woods with him. He placed those things around his lair - because that was his idea of a safe place. A cage surrounded by a traveling show’s inventory. That’s... so tragic, to be honest. Safest in the cage, not knowing any other life. It does paint a heartbreaking picture. I can see why Laura would hesitate to make the final shot at the sight of it.

And as for the Hacketts, three men (one old, another not all there mentally) have been hunting one in a vast, old forest for six years. They failed. Were they bad hunters or just unlucky? Was there magic involved? Or were they sabotaging their hunt on purpose? The world might never know. 

But anyways, here are my thoughts on these parts of the story - hopefully they’re logical enough or at least entertaining. Thanks for reading. :)  

[let-roger-get-a-lunch]

I'm very slowly doing those tag games. Thanks for tagging me @the-sassiest-trixster and sorry for terribly boring replies!

                                              Rules: answer 21 questions and then tag 21 people who you want to know better.

• Nickname: Sadly I don’t have any.  

• Zodiac: Scorpio

• Height: 170 cm

• Last Movie: I’ve started Winchester on Netflix only to stop it halfway through because as much as I enjoy scary movies, in the end I’m really annoyed by the injustice that this folk myth about Winchester House does to Sarah Winchester. A fascinating person without campfire ghost stories.

• Last Thing I Googled: work related crap

• Favorite Musician: Queen, Led Zeppelin, Procol Harum, The Who, Patti Smith, Hozier, Florence and the Machine (I genuinely needed a moment to think about artists not from my parents era...)

• Song Stuck In My Head: THANK GODS NOTHING AT THE MOMENT

• Other Blogs: sooo many. I tend to just start a new one whenever I feel like I’m bored with the previous ones. So there’s at least 5 others around that I barely log-in now

• Do I Get Asks: Not really and it’s not a bad thing since I’m super boring

• Blogs Following: 200-something, I haven't checked

• Amount of Sleep: I’m not good at this - I tend to wake up a lot during the night and in the end it maybe comes up to 5 hours total?

• Lucky Number: I have an unlucky number instead #8.

• What I’m Wearing: Blue jumper, leggings and black socks since I'm lazing on a Sunday afternoon

• Dream Job: Eh long past that. There was a lot of dream jobs I wanted and in the end I ended up doing something that gives me enough stability to just enjoy life outside workplace. As Lennon sang “life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans”

• Dream Trip: New Zealand

• Favorite Food: my mum’s tomato soup. It’s very much comfort food and I associate it with the best moments with her

• Play Any Instruments: I took piano lessons for about 10 years and I was utterly rubbish at it.

• Languages: I’ve studied linguistics and translation so I have a few... Polish, French, English, a bit of leftover Italian and German, planning to learn Spanish and Irish at some point

• Favorite Songs: you mean not Queen related? ;) I can listen to Patti Smith's Pissing in a River for hours on repeat - it's probably the closest I have to favourite song ever

• Random fact: Dutch pink is actually a shade of yellow

• Describe Yourself As Aesthetic Things: no idea... a tea cup? world map? cats?

I feel like everybody already did this but if you haven't, consider yourself tagged :)

[7r0773r]

To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf

. . . . [A]nd that all this desire of hers to give, to help, was vanity. For her own self-satisfaction was it that she wished so instinctively to help, to give, that people might say of her, “O Mrs. Ramsay! dear Mrs. Ramsay . . . Mrs. Ramsay, of course!” and need her and send for her and admire her? Was it not secretly this that she wanted, and therefore when Mr. Carmichael shrank away from her, as he did at this moment, making off to some corner where he did acrostics endlessly, she did not feel merely snubbed back in her instinct, but made aware of the pettiness of some part of her, and of human relations, how flawed they are, how despicable, how self-seeking, at their best. (pp. 65-66)

***

. . . . [A]s if to be caught happy in a world of misery was for an honest man the most despicable of crimes. (p. 70)

***

They became part of that unreal but penetrating and exciting universe which is the world seen through the eyes of love. The sky stuck to them; the birds sang through them. And, what was even more exciting, she felt, too, as she saw Mr. Ramsay bearing down and retreating, and Mrs. Ramsay sitting with James in the window and the cloud moving and the tree bending, how life, from being made up of little separate incidents which one lived one by one, became curled and whole like a wave which bore one up with it and threw one down with it, there, with a dash on the beach. (p. 73)

***

Oh, but she never wanted James to grow a day older! or Cam either. These two she would have liked to keep for ever just as they were, demons of wickedness, angels of delight, never to see them grow up into long-legged monsters. (p. 89)

***

. . . . [C]hildren never forget. For this reason, it was so important what one said, and what one did, and it was a relief when they went to bed. (p. 95)

***

But that any other eyes should see the residue of her thirty-three years, the deposit of each day’s living mixed with something more secret than she had ever spoken or shown in the course of all those days was an agony. At the same time it was immensely exciting. (pp. 80-81)

***

And again she felt alone in the presence of her old antagonist, life. (p. 120)

***

[Mrs. Ramsay] pitied men always as if they lacked something—women never, as if they had something. (p. 129)

***

[Mr. Ramsay] liked these girls, these golden-reddish girls, with something flying, something a little wild and harum-scarum about them. . . . (p. 149)

***

Everything seemed possible. Everything seemed right. Just now (but this cannot last, [Mrs. Ramsay] thought, dissociating herself from the moment while they were all talking about boots) just now she had reached security; she hovered like a hawk suspended; like a flag floated in an element of joy which filled every nerve of her body fully and sweetly, not noisily, solemnly rather, for it arose, she thought, looking at them all eating there, from husband and children and friends; all of which rising in this profound stillness. . . seemed now for no special reason to stay there like a smoke, like a fume rising upwards, holding them safe together. Nothing need be said; nothing could be said. There it was, all round them. It partook, she felt. . . of eternity; as she had already felt about something different once before that afternoon; there is a coherence in things, a stability; something, she meant, is immune from change, and shines out (she glanced at the window with its ripple of reflected lights) in the face of the flowing, the fleeting, the spectral, like a ruby; so that again tonight she had the feeling she had had once today, already, of peace, of rest. Of such moments, she thought, the thing is made that endures. (pp. 157-58)

***

For what could be more formidable than that space? Here [Lily] was again, she thought, stepping back to look at it, drawn out of gossip, out of living, out of community with people into the presence of this formidable ancient enemy of hers—this other thing, this truth, this reality, which suddenly laid hands on her, emerged stark at the back of appearances and commanded her attention. She was half unwilling, half reluctant. Why always be drawn out and haled away? Why not left in peace, to talk to Mr. Carmichael on the lawn? It was an exacting form of intercourse anyhow. Other worshipful objects were content with worship; men, women, God, all let one kneel prostrate; but this form, were it only the shape of a white lamp-shade looming on a wicker table, roused one to perpetual combat, challenged one to a fight in which one was bound to be worsted. Always (it was in her nature, or in her sex, she did not know which) before she exchanged the fluidity of life for the concentration of painting she had a few moments of nakedness when she seemed like an unborn soul, a soul reft of body, hesitating on some windy pinnacle and exposed without protection to all the blasts of doubt. Why then did she do it? She looked at the canvas, lightly scored with running lines. It would be hung in the servants’ bedrooms. It would be rolled up and stuffed under a sofa. What was the good of doing it then, and she heard some voice saying she couldn’t paint, saying she couldn’t create, as if she were caught up in one of those habitual currents in which after a certain time experience forms in the mind, so that one repeats words without being aware any longer who originally spoke them.

Can’t paint, can’t write, she murmured monotonously, anxiously considering what her plan of attack should be. For the mass loomed before her; it protruded; she felt it pressing on her eyeballs. Then, as if some juice necessary for the lubrication of her faculties were spontaneously squirted, she began precariously dipping among the blues and umbers, moving her brush hither and thither, but it was now heavier and went slower, as if it had fallen in with some rhythm which was dictated to her (she kept looking at the hedge, at the canvas) by what she saw, so that while her hand quivered with life, this rhythm was strong enough to bear her along with it on its current. Certainly she was losing consciousness of outer things. And as she lost consciousness of outer things, and her name and her personality and her appearance, and whether Mr. Carmichael was there or not, her mind kept throwing up from its depths, scenes, and names, and sayings, and memories and ideas, like a fountain spurting over that glaring, hideously difficult white space, while she modelled it with greens and blues. (pp. 236-38)

***

But what might be written in the book which had rounded its edges off in his pocket, she did not know. What he thought they none of them knew. But he was absorbed in it, so that when he looked up, as he did now for an instant, it was not to see anything; it was to pin down some thought more exactly. That done, his mind flew back again and he plunged into his reading. He read, she thought, as if he were guiding something, or wheedling a large flock of sheep, or pushing his way up and up a single narrow path; and sometimes he went fast and straight, and broke his way through the bramble, and sometimes it seemed a branch struck at him, a bramble blinded him, but he was not going to let himself be beaten by that; on he went, tossing over page after page. (p. 283)

***

She gazed back over the sea, at the island. But the leaf was losing its sharpness. It was very small; it was very distant. The sea was more important now than the shore. Waves were all round them, tossing and sinking, with a log wallowing down one wave; a gull riding on another. About here, she thought, dabbling her fingers in the water, a ship had sunk, and she murmured, dreamily half asleep, how we perished, each alone. (pp. 283-84)

***

Love had a thousand shapes. There might be lovers whose gift it was to choose out the elements of things and place them together and so, giving them a wholeness not theirs in life, make of some scene, or meeting of people (all now gone and separate), one of those globed compacted things over which thought lingers, and love plays. (p. 286)

***

What was the problem then? She must try to get hold of something that evaded her. It evaded her when she thought of Mrs. Ramsay; it evaded her now when she thought of her picture. Phrases came. Visions came. Beautiful pictures. Beautiful phrases. But what she wished to get hold of was that very jar on the nerves, the thing itself before it has been made anything. Get that and start afresh; get that and start afresh; she said desperately, pitching herself firmly again before her easel. It was a miserable machine, an inefficient machine, she thought, the human apparatus for painting or for feeling; it always broke down at the critical moment; heroically, one must force it on. She stared, frowning. There was the hedge, sure enough. But one got nothing by soliciting urgently. One got only a glare in the eye from looking at the line of the wall, or from thinking—she wore a grey hat. She was astonishingly beautiful. Let it come, she thought, if it will come. For there are moments when one can neither think nor feel. And if one can neither think nor feel, she thought, where is one? (pp. 287-88)

[satuacehnews]

Masyarakat Lawe Harum Resah, Akibat Illegal Logging Membabi Buta

[thatstheticketheresthestory]

Morning All. Happy Sunday

Here’s another stub for you in my weekly ticket themed blog post

Town & Country Club

The Christians

1987

£6

I’m on a quest to reach the monumental milestone of a 100 posts from the 70s and 80s. This is no 83, I think.

Here’s the stub for another gig at the T&CC. A ticket for a band that, in my humble opinion, didn't get the recognition that they deserved.

It was a Friday tea time in 1985 when I first encountered the Christians, a musical ensemble fronted by three Liverpudlian brothers, performing a song called Forgotten Town on the Tube. They were fronted by a cool dude with a bald head and ray bans They really had an impact on me. It was one of the most memorable performances I remember from that legendary music show.

It was the harmonies that I loved. There is something about special about brothers' singing together, Bros have a genetic capacity to sing in seamless harmony, there's a lineage, the Everly's the Christians. Matt and Luke Goss. Sadly, me and my brother (an adopted scouser himself) had the capacity to sing in unison so unharmoniously that deaf people would refuse to watch our lips move

After much scouring, I eventually acquired a copy of Forgotten Town on 12" at Harum Records in Crouch End. Their debut album didn't come out for a couple of years, but when it arrived it didn't disappoint, full of classic songs like When the Fingers Point and Born Again.

Much later they recorded a fine cover of Harvest For the World, which some, although not me, think is even better than the Isley version. In either case, the animated video, featuring early Ardman and 3 other studios is a thing of power and beauty.

This is my ticket for their London show, It was an outstanding show; they could really cut it live, redolent of the Temptations, albeit a slap head, scally version, wearing ripped jeans.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7PEtC1N7QJQ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LjEla5Lw_TI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I_NWkzioKnw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6s-SHrzXbU8

[larheine-blog]

Warga Kampung Kota

Kebangun gara-gara denger suara tukang tahu bulat nyanyi...."Tahu bulat....digoreng di mobil dina katel dadakan.....lima ratusan.....gurih-gurih enyoooss...." disusul lagu Via Vallen dari rumah tetangga...."Sayang opo kowe krungu...jerite atiku...mengharap engkau kembali...."

Seperti tak mau kalah, suara anak-anak bermain bola, terdengar suara teriakan: "Anjing....goblok sia mah teu bener jaga gawang teh..." ketika bola bersarang di salah satu gawang. Mengiringi suara teriakan lawan yang kegirangan..."Horeeeee!!! Lebok tah eleh....."

Bahasa Sunda kasar tentunya, tapi hal yang menjadi wajar terdengar di telinga saya. Saya pun bukan polisi moral dan etika yang harus mengingatkan anak-anak itu....itu tugas orang tua mereka.

Saya buka jendela, harum parfum isi ulang yang disemprot berlebihan di baju anak-anak gadis menyergap hidung saya. Sempat terdengar isi obrolan mereka tentang laki-laki yang menjadi "kecengan" di sekolah. Suara motor berhenti, beberapa orang laki-laki mengenakan jaket kulit dengan ransel di pundak mengeluarkan buku dan pena...aah biasa itu, tukang tagih pinjaman harian, mampir di tetangga sebelah.

Semua ini adalah tontonan dan suara yang biasa saya dengar setiap hari, suara khas perkampungan padat penduduk dengan tingkat ekonomi Senin-Kemis. Pinjem duit Senin, Rabu habis...Kemis pinjem lagi. Buka media sosial, timeline dipenuhi kata-kata bijak...saya log out, ada kalanya saya malas membaca "quotes" kata-kata bijak sementara suara anak saya teriak: "Mamaaa...pulsa listrik abis...." mendadak kepala puyeng..."Ya, sekalian beliin koyo cap cengek super panas....".

Saya hampiri suami: "Uangnya dah masuk belum?"

Suami menjawab: "Belum...katanya malem, kalau ga besok senin...."

Emosi tak tertahankan....

Ternyata hidup itu tak seindah bayangan, padahal pas tidur tadi saya mimpi dibeliin cincin berlian.... Nasib jadi rakyat jelata 😭😭😭😭

[brianputratama]

Kamu Rumahku

Hai, bukan intro yang baik untuk mengawali suatu tulisan di pagi hari ini. Bukan kali pertama aku duduk sendiri sambil melihat kembali pesan-pesan yang kamu kirim ketika aku sedang kesepian. Aku melihat lagi puluhan menit Calls Log  yang didalamnya terdapat rekaman percakapan kita. Terekam dengan sangat jelas diingatanku, bagaimana kita menghabiskan waktu saat sedang dipisahkan oleh jarak. Bukan kali pertama juga aku melihat kembali semua foto yang aku miliki ketika bersama kamu, mengingatkanku pada cerita bahagia yang ter-capture saat bersama kamu. Tahukah? Bahkan tanpa melihat foto, kamu selalu muncul pada galery otaku. Aku ingat lengkung senyum bibir kamu, aku ingat bagaimana kamu memalingkan muka saat kamu marah, aku ingat saat tanganku yang dingin kamu genggam dalam keramaian, aku ingat bau harum tubuh kamu, aku ingat saat kamu ada ketika aku sedang hancur-hancurnya. Aku ingat semua tentang kamu. Mari coba kita ingat bersama. Saat bersama kamu jantungku selalu berdetak lebih kencang dari biasanya, menandakan lebih banyak oksigen yang aku hirup ketika bersama kamu. Aku masih merasa gugup ketika kamu mendekat dan bersandar ke pundaku. Semua terjadi begitu cepat, aku katakan cinta ketika konser Isyana Sarasvati dan kamu menerimanya dengan senyum pipi menggembul. Pada malam itu aku adalah orang paling bahagia. Selanjutnya hari-hari berjalan seperti biasa, aku berperan layaknya kekasih yang sangat mencintai pasanganya. Kamu luar biasa, sangat sabar menghadapiku yang kekanak-kanakan, sabar menghadapiku yang selalu ingin menang sendiri. Bukan tidak jarang kamu menyebut kata untuk berpisah. Aku tau hati kamu sangat letih menghadapi orang seperti aku. Tapi yang perlu kamu tahu, ketika aku memutuskan untuk menjalin hubungan denganmu, percayalah aku ingin membangun masa depan dan bahagia bersama kamu, tidak pernah terlintas sedikitpun untuk menyakiti kamu. ”jedooorrr”, kamu menutup pintu rumah ketika aku sedang berada di taman. Kamu tutup pintu hati kamu ketika aku sedang merasa bahagia-bahagianya bersama kamu. Seketika semua bunga di taman layu, seketika embun keluar dari kelopak mataku, seketika juga badai taifun muncul di hatiku. Kamu pergi membangun rumah yang baru tanpa ada aku di dalamnya. Kamu biarkan aku melawan hujan sendirian. You know? Aku masih bertahan dalam hujan yang kamu buat sampai sekarang.

[articlehaao]

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