#GUEST APPEARANCE FROM VERLAINE

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

Television - The Bowery Ballroom, New York City, December 30 / December 31, 2017

From the Bottom Line to CBGB to the Bowery Ballroom — we're taking a little tour of NYC venues past and present this week. Here, we're headed back to TV Land with two of Television's last New York City performances! Historic stuff. Previously uncirculated tapes, too, courtesy of longtime friend of the blog Daniel Bourque. Thank you, Dan! These shows are full of cool/interesting playing, long jams, some unusual rarities and a generally lively atmosphere — the New Year's Eve gig in particular. Take it away, Dan!

Dan's show notes:

These shows were meant to close out 2017 and ring in the New Year, and I have always wondered how they happened since Tom and Television were not exactly known for the jovial atmosphere they brought to the stage, nor were they – how do I put this? A party band. "Hey, you know who knows how to have a good time? Tom Verlaine!" Nevertheless, the shows were sold out and everybody seemed to be having a great time; I certainly did.

Night 1: The set is fairly standard for live performances by the band during their final years and heavily focused on songs from Marquee Moon with "1880 or so" the only song from the eponymous reunion album and nothing from Adventure. "Little Johnny Jewel," the band's first single, is played as an encore. Both "Persia" and "I'm Gonna Find You" which were never (as far as we know) recorded by the band appear, as does "The Man In The Backyard," a true rarity only played a couple of times live, both solo by Verlaine and with Television. After "Persia" is played, the band pause for one of their lengthy (and frequent!) tuning sessions during which Tom comments: "Our old manager said don't bother tuning because nobody can ever tell. But I disagree with him."

Night 2: Tom is unusually talkative during this show after having hardly spoken to the crowd at all the previous night. Maybe it's the just the holiday but he seems in a positively cheerful - even playful - mood much of the time. Early on he archly complains about the lights "Time for a private conversation with the lighting director" and after "1880 Or So" promises to teach the crowd a dance (!) shortly before midnight. Then during "Torn Curtain" (which is a bit messy as a result) he calls for security when a rowdy inebriated fan down front passes out, and comments afterwards "I think our unfortunate super celebratory stoner is gone.”

Like the previous night the set is very heavily weighted toward songs from Marquee Moon, with "1880 Or So" off of the eponymous reunion album the lone exception. Mid-set the band start "Friction" only to stop it abruptly then play it later as an encore. Just before midnight Tom recites a poem, then after counting down to the New Year the band play a loose cover of "Auld Lang Syne" with Eleanor Friedberger joining the band onstage and contributing some vocals. Hendrix playing "The Star-Spangled Banner" it certainly isn't, but it's a unique one-off and fun to hear the band play it in their very distinctive style. This is also as far as I know (maybe Patti Smith?) the only Television performance with a guest appearance by another artist. This is followed by a ragged version of "Psychotic Reaction," a cover the band have played many times over the years. There are also a couple of unreleased songs, "Persia" and "I'm Gonna Find You" and late in the set the band play another new song, "The Eel," which is a bluesy rocker. This, Tom points out is what he meant when he said he was going to teach the crowd a dance!

#television #tom verlaine #eleanor friedberger

[munchcorner]

Body shot skk version bc why not.

CW // Slightly Spicy

It was Chuuya's birthday, and they were celebrating it Chuuya's most frequented bar. They were having a good time when Mori suddenly called everyone's attention. They all fall silent and turn in his direction.

"Since it's a special day, it's only fair to give our birthday boy a proper present," Mori announces with a smile.

"You didn't have to," Chuuya says with a soft smile, "celebrating with everyone is enough for me,"

"A person's birthday is celebrated once a year. Let us give you a gift," Mori insists.

Chuuya finally gives up, "fine. What is it?"

"Kouyou, could you do us a favor of fetching our honored guest?" Mori says and turns to Kouyou.

Kouyou sighs and stands from her seat, "prepare yourselves," she says before leaving.

Chuuya furrows his brows, curious, "Is it Verlaine?" he couldn't help but ask.

Mori doesn't answer. Instead, he smiles at Chuuya, making Chuuya even more curious. Everyone waits with anticipation, equally intrigued as Chuuya.

Kouyou comes back and steps aside, letting their guest show himself. Chuuya felt his blood boil as the person appeared in front of him.

"How is this a gift?!" Chuuya yells while glaring at Dazai.

Dazai rolls his eyes, "Ahh, ane-san, I told you it isn't worth it coming here for this slug,"

"It wasn't my idea," Kouyou says and takes a seat. She takes a wine in her hand and says, "try not to destroy anything,"

"I was invited to be your gift, but I'm not even having fun," Dazai says, "as expected from a boring person like you,"

"It's not like I wanted you to be here," Chuuya says and walks away. But Dazai's words made him look back at him, "ahh, this is undeniably the worst birthday I've ever been invited to. Not even a single drinking game,"

"What are you? A child?" Chuuya asks, "drinking games are for children,"

Dazai laughs, "no, you're just boring,"

Chuuya felt his nerve pop, "and you're fun?"

Dazai nods, "I'm always the life of the party, you know? That's why I was brought here, to give life to your boring party,"

Chuuya snaps, "I'll show you fun," he says and walks towards the platform where a band is performing. He calls everyone's attention and says, "since it's my birthday, why don't you indulge me in a game of body shots? Anyone can take a shot,"

Chuuya begins to remove his upper clothes as he wonders why he chose body shots out of all the drinking games out there. But there's no turning back now.

Chuuya sits on the chair and waits for anyone to approach him. Everyone looks at each other, waiting for who would be courageous enough to walk up the platform.

"I'll take a shot," Dazai says walk to the platform. Chuuya glares at him and scoffs, "fuck off,"

"What? Don't tell me you're backing out?" Dazai asks, "you said anyone can walk up here. It seems like your executive can't keep his word,"

Dazai turns around, ready to leave the platform. But Chuuya stops him, "take the shot, coward,"

Dazai turns around with a smirk, "that's more like it,"

Chuuya grits his teeth and smirks, thinking that he found a way to make Dazai back out, "you can't walk away from this now,"

Dazai raises a brow and watches Chuuya leave the platform to lie on the front bar. Chuuya takes the salt and rubs it on his lips before putting the lemon on top of his crotch. He remains to lie on the front bar as he asks Dazai, "do you still want to do it?"

Dazai walks to him and sits on one of the stools, "I already volunteered,"

Chuuya scoffs, "alright," he says and places the shot glace in the middle of his v-line, "take the shot, Dazai," he challenges.

Dazai grins, "don't move,"

Dazai keeps his eyes on Chuuya as he takes the shot. He lets his finger touch Chuuya's skin as he takes the shot glass. He notices Chuuya blush and smiles, knowing full well that a simple touch can fluster Chuuya.

"Now, for the salt," Dazai whispers against Chuuya's lips. Chuuya stares at him, eyes glaring.

"Don't glare at me. You chose this," Dazai says and kisses Chuuya before he can speak.

A small whimper escapes Chuuya's lips as Dazai licks his bottom lip. Dazai smirks and pushes his tongue inside Chuuya's when he gasps. Dazai pulls away when Chuuya starts to respond to his kiss.

"I was licking the salt, Chuuya," Dazai reminds him. Chuuya's eye twitches, "asshole,"

Dazai shrugs and runs his finger through Chuuya's neck and chest as he moves to take the lemon. Chuuya sits up and watches Dazai slowly lower his head, "watch me closely, Chuuya,"

Chuuya doesn't answer. He keeps his eyes on Dazai as he takes the lemon using his mouth without breaking eye contact. Chuuya can feel his face heating up as he watches Dazai's mouth take the lemon in his mouth.

"Done," Dazai says and stands up straight.

Chuuya remains seated on the front bar. He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can do so, he hears Kouyou's voice, "please take this somewhere else. No one wanted to see that,"

Chuuya's face heats up even more when he notices all his subordinates' eyes on him, and all he can do is yell at Dazai in embarrassment.

#skk #bsd skk #soukouku #soukoku #dachuu #dazai x nakahara #dazai x chuuya #dazai osamu x nakahara chuuya #nakahara chuuya x dazai osamu #nakahara x dazai

[bcwallin]

One Nostalgia Later

Zero barely talks about his great lost love. As the “aged proprietor” of an “enchanted old ruin” known as the Grand Budapest Hotel, he tells his life story by skipping around her presence, touching on the existence of his “darling Agatha,” but avoiding falling into the pit of despair. Beautiful things don’t get to be completed in his world, where poems are always cut off, nice sentiments are interrupted, and the dark specter of war and disease cuts short any hope of living long, living with love. The man who “struck one as being, deeply and truly, lonely” knows what it is to lose.

For a brief time, Zero and Agatha shared a love. They were outcasts, ignored, working in service jobs that required self-abnegation—he as a hotel lobby boy; she, the pastry girl at a bakery. We see them in their bedrooms; it’s not much. “We did not have 50 Klubecks between the two of us,” recalls the older Zero. They worked long, demanding hours and had few moments to spare. Zero’s meals were held with the rest of the hotel staff. Agatha suffered the overbearing, watchful eye of her boss at the bakery, Herr Mendl. Being together was difficult, but the few moments they shared were rapturous. Their courtship felt like young love feels: furtive, secretive, and bursting with flushed emotion.

That young love never gets to mature. Agatha dies too early. “An absurd little disease,” the older Zero says parenthetically of the cause of death. So, every moment is preserved in amber, but never lingered on for too long. “She is a nearly absent presence in the story, by Zero’s choice: a narrative door marked ‘Do Not Enter,’” writes Matt Zoller Seitz, in his book about the movie. “He won’t speak of her. It’s too painful, and he’s too private.” But the aged Zero can’t tell his story without including her, try as he might. And we get glimpses.

On one good day, Zero and Agatha go to a carousel. They’re accompanied by Herr Mendl, but they barely notice. Zero gives his love a gift. He’s so anxious for her to like it, he can’t even wait for her to open the wrapping before he bursts out with what it is. He can’t contain his love in the inscription, either: “For my dearest, darling, treasured, cherished Agatha, whom I worship. With respect, adoration, admiration, kisses, gratitude, best wishes, and love.”

Throughout their courtship, the world around Zero and Agatha bursts at the seams with the portents of war, as newspapers tease, armies gather, and the brightly colored, idyllic world of the fictional state of Zubrowka teeters on the brink. The start of the war, after all, sees the appearance of black-clad death squads, and eventually, the draining of color from the film itself. Darkness and death loom quietly, but no matter what’s going on in the world, a first love is a first love. And it’s all encapsulated in a single image.

Agatha’s face takes up the center of the boxy frame—her gaze is transfixing. She stares lovingly, straight through the camera. We’re Zero, locking eyes with her. The colors shift over her face as carousel lights turn behind and around her. She is radiant, then shadowed, then red. She has the slightest hint of a smile, her head tilted, just so. Agatha stares with her deep blue eyes and it’s near-impossible to look away. But who would want to?

In this single moment, the music fades as if it’s playing somewhere else, the lights haze, as the focus can only be directed toward Agatha. Time is frozen, if only for a moment, as we experience the ecstasy of loving and knowing you are loved. Of early love, with its rushed heartbeats, tingling limbs, empty stomachs, stuttering lips, and sweaty brows. We hold onto this eternally familiar moment. As Italo Calvino once wrote, describing a different, frozen moment in time: “The suspicion that has gripped me is precisely this: that I have come to find myself in a space not new to me, that I have returned to a point where we had already passed by.”

* * *

The Grand Budapest Hotel continues a literary tradition that’s stretched from Dante to Moulin Rouge!: women die tragically and their lovers memorialize them in their writings. Agatha is an ideal, an image. Like Madeleine to Scotty in Vertigo (but less creepy), like the woman of an aged Mr. Bernstein’s tale in Citizen Kane (but more meaningful), Agatha exists as a memory or a reference.

With its frames within frames of shifting perspectives and aspect ratios, The Grand Budapest Hotel is distinctly literary. Its opening monologue is lifted nearly verbatim from Beware of Pity by Stefan Zweig, an author whose work is credited with inspiring the film, whose mustache seems to appear on more than one character’s face, and whose disappearing world is fictionalized as the setting. Zweig’s non-fiction is a great example of the longing for a lost place; his fiction for lost people. In his novella Journey into the Past, Zweig chronicles the long-awaited reunion of a man and a woman who had once been deeply in love, years ago. “How much time, how much lost time, and yet in the space of a second a single thought took him back to the very beginning.”

Zweig’s stories are often framed as recollections told over, as stories shared with strangers because of their absolute meaningfulness—much like the memorializing by grieving lovers of literary tradition—because these memories needed to be stories, to be remembered by somebody else. Zweig’s framing characters look to create the literature of their own lived stories. Journey into the Past sees two characters, Ludwig and an unnamed woman,  returning to their own story, with one seeking to consummate his unrequited love of nine years’ distance. They had had an emotional affair, tucked into passionate glances and tacit communication, years earlier, while her husband was alive. They kissed where they could, but they had to hide from the servants who always seemed to be around at the least opportune time. Ludwig’s desires were never fully satisfied and he was called away on business so he could build his fortune. And he and his love made a promise to be together once he’d return.

But the trouble with remembering love is that its amber glow sets up dangerous expectations. After being away far longer than he’d have liked to be, Ludwig is greeted fondly by the woman’s staff. He joins his love to the literary tradition and wonders to himself, as Zweig writes, “Odysseus…the household dogs recognize you, will the mistress of the house know you again too?” He’s been away for nine years. He’s gotten married, but he still returns for a rendezvous with the woman he loved and lost, to fulfill a promise she had made him, but which she realizes she cannot keep. Ludwig recalls a couplet from a French poem by Paul Verlaine: “In the old park, in ice and snow caught fast / Two specters walk, still searching for the past.” The poem, which cuts off there in Zweig’s story, imagines a dialogue between lost lovers:

—Does your heart still surge at my very name?

Do you still see my soul when you dream?—No.

—Ah, the beautiful days of inexpressible bliss

When our lips met!—It may have been so.

—How blue the sky, how hopes ran high!

—Hope has fled, vanquished, to the black sky.

Like Jay Gatsby or Mr. Bernstein or Lemony Snicket, wondering what might have been, Ludwig and Verlaine’s narrator and an old Zero romanticize their visions of love as time goes by.

“Any adequate view of nostalgia will acknowledge that it involves a felt difference between past and present: the very irretrievability of the past is salient in the experience,” wrote philosophy professor Scott Alexander Howard. We may seek to stay in the past through memory, Howard tells us, because the present seems worse, because we didn’t realize how good life was, or because we’re spontaneously overtaken by nostalgia. Nostalgia may mean that we see the past as a time that was better, and while that doesn’t necessarily mean that our vision of the past is false, it does mean that things get amplified to a whole other level:

The nostalgist knows the past in question was unpleasant at the time, but in memory it is altered by certain effects: for example, the memory has acquired a gold patina, or it seems to be an uncanny distillation of a whole time period. Neither effect strikes the self-aware nostalgist as true to the quality of one’s experiences at the time when those memories were encoded. Yet they are part of what is targeted by nostalgia. The emotion seems to be directed precisely at the “fictional” features of the memory image—things which one recognizes to be not inside the scene on the other side of the window, but drawn onto the glass.

That amber glow or gold patina grows as we distance ourselves from a disappeared world. Zero’s story, his world, his love are by definition irretrievable.

The carousel (in reality, a wood frame built around a camera setup) is irretrievable. The lights (in reality, constructed to be evocative more than representative) are irretrievable. The shared moment—stolen between long shifts of service as Herr Mendl looks on—is gone, and its memory is a fictionalized, amberized construction of nostalgia and longing.

As the elder Zero looks back, the once garishly pink and red hotel now looks like a holdover from Soviet-era architecture, its colors a drab collection of beiges and oranges. The grand ballroom holds few diners and the place, in general, is empty. Guests push their own elevator buttons, serve themselves from vending machines, and, at times, even retrieve their own keys.

And Agatha. Zero holds onto her memory, but reveals very little of it. She has 15 lines in the film’s screenplay. The first time we hear of Agatha, the older Zero avoids saying much, and talks of her only when he has to. It’s all gone and irretrievable. Sort of.

* * *

One cold November night at Penn Station, the poet Alandra Markman, then going by the pseudonym Allan Andre, wrote a poem for me and a friend (we missed our train, but the delay was worth it). “One nostalgia later” gave a compelling portrait of family meals, “as winter nights dissolve into warm / recollection and company we’re still keeping.” The way the poem goes, we create our nostalgia as we live through moments, readying our stories to be told and remembered some time later on. “Let every glow, mechanical or felt, be one / with the shadows we’re still casting, / and guide our bodies into greater light.”

The story of Zero and Agatha’s love was created on the carousel. In that moment, we see their love blossoming, deepening, exploding with the soft-focus lights of ecstasy. The elder Zero tells us he’s exercising restraint, avoiding talking about Agatha as much as he can, but if he were truly offering a utilitarian telling, there’d be no need to include this gaze frozen in time. In that moment, we never see Zero head-on, never see the reverse shot of adoration. It’s only Agatha and light. And us.

The elder Zero tells the story to a writer, the writer remembers it long enough to write it as an older man, the older man’s book becomes important enough for him to become a beloved national author, and through the eyes of a devotee, we read this book. When Stefan Zweig incorporates listeners into the story, it’s not just for the purpose of framing. The value of a memory is in how it feels to the rememberer, but the value of a story is in how it feels to the one who hears it. It is the storyteller himself who seeks out the opportunity to tell his story—the older Zero needles the writer into admitting his curiosity and offers, of his own volition, to tell it  in full. The telling is not for the benefit of Zero himself; he is giving something to the author, creating an experience for his audience. With its multiple framings, The Grand Budapest Hotel tells us that we are the viewers, the listeners, the readers. We are part of the experience, and we create our nostalgia as we experience it, so we can tell the story later of a place with bright reds, dark blacks, and swirling lights.

I remember The Grand Budapest Hotel, and I remember those swirling lights and the clutched breath and the deep longing. I think about that one frame of Agatha, frozen in time, holding her lover’s gaze—holding our gaze—as the darkness briefly clouds her face. Every time Zero and the writer and Wes Anderson tell me the story, I see that darkness and I face the irretrievability. I don’t feel nostalgia; I feel regret. For Zubrowka and everything it represents. For the grandness of the Grand Budapest. For Agatha.

* * *

When Calvino wrote about his frozen moment, it was in the story “t zero,” in which the narrator, a hunter, faces a lion L, the arrow A just fired from the hunter’s bow at the time tx. The hunter considers the possibility that A will collide with L at point X and he will be saved, or that A will miss the target L, which would then sink its very sharp claws into his chest in the less preferable of situations. It feels familiar, the narrator tells us, though not because of a comparable lion he’s fought or some feeling of ancestral memory lodged in his DNA. “If I say this moment I am living through is not being lived for the first time by me, it’s because the sensation I have of it is one of a slight doubling of images, as if at the same time I were seeing not one lion or one arrow but two or more lions and two or more arrows superimposed with a barely perceptible overlapping, so the sinuous outlines of the lion’s form and the segment of the arrow seem underlined or rather haloed by finer lines and a more delicate color.” He is experiencing a sense of timelessness, as if he’s lived through this moment in time and space, again and again. “What, after all, is the use of continuing if sooner or later we will only find ourselves in this situation again?”

While the elder Zero withholds a lot, rewatching The Grand Budapest Hotel can feel like a slight glimpse into the heart of an old man, thinking about his lost love and the potential of bright colors and bursting emotion that could have continued for the rest of his life (the internet loves a revisionist theory about a movie—what if the Grand Budapest Hotel of the past only looks that way because of how Zero remembers it?). Calvino’s hunter is doubtful. Zero seems assured. He memorializes his beloved with the hotel that stands for their love. With the story he tells of her. And he lets us see a little.

And we see the near-imperceptible smile, the tilt of a head, the unblinking eyes, the brightness and the dark. We see the warm glow of memory that says how great this was and the hint of sorrow asking how great this could have been.

Originally published on Bright Wall/Dark Room

#grand budapest hotel #bc wallin #film essay #bwdr #oneperfectshot #nostalgia

[sweetdreamsjeff]

Obituary: Jeff Buckley

       Pierre Perrone                         

Friday 6 June 1997 00:02     The Independent                                                                                                                                                                        

Second-generation pop stars hardly ever live up to their illustrious parents. Jeff Buckley was the exception to that rule.

His considerable talent and distinctive soprano voice eerily echoed those of his father, the singer Tim Buckley, who died of a drug overdose in 1975. And, in the space of three years and one album, Jeff Buckley attained the cult status his troubled father had taken eight years and as many records to achieve. Yet, though they hardly had a chance to bond (Tim was estranged from Jeff's mother and died at the age of 28, when his son was seven), their tragic destinies mirrored each other.

Born in 1966, Jeffrey Scott Buckley was the result of a short-lived liaison between Tim Buckley and Mary Gulbert. In one of the few interviews Jeff Buckley later gave, he recalled that the couple:

broke up in the early Seventies. I was only about four when my dad left. I was really brought up by my mother and my stepfather. I owe them my most pregnant musical memories. They were together for about four years and the house was full of music. My mum would play piano and cello all the time and my stepdad had great musical taste. I would listen to anything: the Beatles, Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, Joni Mitchell, Judy Garland, Robert Johnson, Thelonious Monk, Bartk, Mahler. And I asked a lot of questions. Learning about music seemed effortless. I guess I must have had natural abilities. Looking back, it felt like instinct.

Indeed, at five, the young Buckley had picked up his grandmother's guitar and taught himself to play. In Southern California, he might have felt rootless and restless, but music already seemed to drive him on. Aged 13, Jeff even wrote his first song, "about a break-up with a girlfriend. It was awful."

Having graduated from high school, the teenage Buckley left home, studied at the Los Angeles Musicians' Institute and played in a few rock and reggae bands (including Shinehead). In 1990, he moved to New York and started hanging out on the Lower East Side, forming Gods and Monsters, a short- lived group. He also guested at a Tim Buckley tribute concert where he attracted the attention of the producer Hal Willner.

Buckley only found his forte two years later when he started to perform solo with his electric guitar at coffee houses such as the Fez, Bang On and the Sin-e Cafe, in Greenwich Village. By the time the "Live at Sin- e" EP came out in late 1993, Buckley had evolved an amazing style, blending jazz, folk, rock, classical music, unusual covers (an epic version of Van Morrison's "The Way Young Lovers Do") and French chanson (Edith Piaf's "Je N'en Connais Pas La Fin) to create a fluid hybrid in which both listener and performer could lose themselves. He soon signed to Columbia Records and, fittingly for an exponent of the neo-hippie tendency, set about recording his debut album proper at Bearsville studios, near Woodstock.

Buckley left nothing to chance. Since he'd only been playing with the bassist Mick Grondahl and drummer Matt Johnson for a month, he called upon guests such as the ex- Captain Beefheart guitarist Gary Lucas (who'd already helped him shape some of the compositions like "Mojo Fin") and the avant-garde composer Karl Berger who provided unusual, flowing string arrangements. Andy Wallace's production did the rest and, by the end of 1994, rock critics the world over were praising Grace to the heavens.

The soaring, yearning vocals drew comparisons with Robert Plant, Jim Morrison and, predictably, Buckley's father. The puzzling, wide-ranging choice of cover versions (Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah", Benjamin Britten's "Corpus Christi Carol", "Lilac Wine", a standard covered by everyone from Nina Simone to Elkie Brooks) was discussed in hushed tones. Having added guitarist Michael Tighe, Buckley toured like there was no tomorrow, appearing at Reading and Glastonbury festivals and winning fans wherever he went. His vulnerable stage presence made girls swoon and he became an unlikely sex-symbol of the alternative music scene.

In 1995, Rolling Stone magazine named him Best New Artist and "Last Goodbye" became an alternative hit on US college radio. Yet, though Grace sold very well in Britain and France, Buckley never really appealed to the MTV generation. This suited him fine as he was keen to explore new musical horizons.

However, following up Grace's early promise proved difficult and Buckley marked time with various limited- edition releases ("Peyote Radio Theatre", among others). Last year, he guested with Jazz Passengers and appeared on Patti Smith's comeback album Gone Again. More recently, he paid tribute to the beat poet Jack Kerouac on Kicks Joy Darkness, a collection of readings which also features REM's Michael Stipe, the Clash's Joe Strummer, the actors Matt Dillon and Johnny Depp and the writer William Burroughs. Last December, internet fans could read a worrying message Buckley had posted on his website. It read: "I'm in the middle of some wild shit now. Please be patient."

Earlier this year, Buckley finally set about recording new songs in Memphis with former Television guitarist Tom Verlaine. But the resulting sessions had left Buckley somewhat frustrated and, having scrapped those and sent his backing musicians home, he was trying new material on his own while considering using the producer Andy Wallace again. There was already talk of a European tour to coincide with the album release in the autumn and Buckley obviously felt under pressure.

On 29 May, Buckley and a friend, Keith Foti, went to downtown Memphis and hung out at the Mud Island Marina with an acoustic guitar and a ghettoblaster. Having played some songs, Buckley decided to go for a swim in the Mississippi. His friend tried to stop him but Buckley jumped in fully clothed and still singing. As a boat passed by and created a large wave, Foti moved the ghettoblaster out of range of the water. When he turned round, Buckley had disappeared from view, probably caught by the undertow in the treacherous river.

Listening to Buckley's recordings again ("Eternal Life", dedicated to a long-lost lover, "Dream Brother", written about the father he didn't know), the sense of foreboding present in the lyrics proves overwhelming, never more so than in "So Real" during which the singer wails, "the nightmare. It sucked me in and pulled me under".

Jeff Buckley was fond of describing his wonderful songs as "dreamlike, coming from your subconscious. You have to let yourself go and it can scar you or destroy you. It's a bit like dying."

Jeffrey Scott Buckley, singer, songwriter, guitarist, organist: born Orange County, California 17 November 1966; died Memphis, Tennessee 29 May 1997.

#Jeff Buckley #Jeff Buckley Obituary #The Independent #Friday June 6 197

[drinkupthesunrise]

May the Fourth Exchange 2018 Letter

Dear Yoda,

In general, I like: pining, unrequited love that turns out not to be unrequited, people being friends & in love with each other generally, found family, ridiculous references, fic that explores what characters mean to each other in a greater context, alt!timeline shit (ie, what would happen if a character had made x choice instead of y), complicated relationships, baby/kid!fic, hurt/comfort.

Things I do not want: character bashing, unnecessary character death (ymmv here it’s Star Wars, characters die, I accept that, but please don’t kill anyone off in the pairings, canonical deaths are fine), gratuitous / explicit violence, mundane!AUs (coffee!shop, high school/college, etc), dubcon/noncon in any form, cheating, first person POV.

General links that might be useful to you: my ao3 works, my fic writing tag, my ficlet tag, and my general star wars tag. 

General note: I like characters, and relationships, best when they’re situated in a world that feels real, and that means having other characters around them, and the relationships between them. While the pairings below should definitely be the focus of any fic, please feel free to slip in other things that you think I might like. I think what’s below should give you an idea of that, hopefully :D. For instance, I adore Wedge’s relationship / friendship with the rest of the Fab Four / his pilots in general, and I find the Han / Luke / Leia dynamic endlessly fascinating (both platonically and romantically on all sides), I’m always up for guest appearances from anyone from any point in canon.

Wedge Antilles/Luke Skywalker

Would happily take anything, but specific loves include stuff with them founding Rogue Squadron and that early part of their relationship, where they’re a little unsure and unfamiliar but still utterly trusting of each other? Or in the aftermath of Endor where Luke’s off founding the Jedi Order and Wedge is off fighting the Imperial Remnant and they’re trying to work out if they could have a relationship in all of that? I really love these two, the relationship between them really is one of my all-time faves.

I am also desperate for pre-and-post-TLJ era fic for them. What does Wedge make of Luke’s choices and decisions? Did Wedge go with him to Ahch-To? If Wedge is present, how does that affect the choices Luke makes?

I would also sell my soul for Jedi Academy-era fic in which Wedge is a teacher at Luke’s Jedi Academy, either with them in an established relationship and founding the school, or where Wedge gets involved somehow and slowly realises, oh, actually, Luke is very attractive and there is a lot of pining, and Luke is off having the same realisations about Wedge.

Wedge Antilles/Biggs Darklighter

They must have known each other on Yavin, so it’s not inconceivable that they might have met and, y’know, got it on. So quick and dirty introductions, or possibly even something set later, after the Death Star battle, where Biggs!lives and the two pilots who didn’t get that shot off try and find solace in each other.

Wedge Antilles/Leia Organa

I think Wedge and Leia are very alike, in some ways - both soldiers with a sense of duty that goes far beyond themselves, who’d sacrifice their personal lives for their ideals every time. So anything that builds on that, really; either early Alliance / Rebellion (pre / post Yavin), with Leia still trying to sort out her feelings for Han / Luke and working them out with the person who is the mid-ground between the two (fight me on this Wedge is Han’s smuggling no-good self crossed with Luke’s idealism and good!man nature), or possibly after the Jedi Temple Massacre, or post TLJ, where they are the last two left standing and seek solace in each other?

Also! If you have read the 2013 Marvel Star Wars comic (the Wood/D’Anda one), you should know I was so very very very weak for Leia as Squadron Commander and Wedge as her second, and I cannot believe that was an actual thing that happened in Legends okay??

Wedge Antilles/Leia Organa/Han Solo Okay so Wedge spends an astonishing amount of time in the X-Wing books putting Han and Leia’s relationship back together (only for The Courtship of Princess Leia to happen, poor guy.) Like. He’s really invested in it. And also half in love with both of them it seems.

But, what I really want … is new canon, in which during the Aftermath trilogy Wedge ends up staying with Leia, and sort of never leaves, and even when Han comes back he’s still there, and then he helps out when Ben is born, because Wedge is very good with babies and this is a very important fact, and slowly Han and Leia realise, oh, wait, we never want him to leave.

I would also be very happy with drunken hook-ups, or Han and Leia accidentally propositioning Wedge.

Wedge Antilles/Bodhi Rook

So – well, Wedge was at the Imperial Academy for a time, as was Bodhi, and although it’s unlikely they were in classes together, I think that their paths could have crossed; what’s it like when they see each other on Yavin all those years later? If Bodhi is the only survivor of the Rogue One team, and Wedge is the only survivor of the original pilots (Luke is too new, really) do they find solace in each other? Do they only really catch up after the war with each other, and suddenly realise that no one else is quite going to understand their grief? (I am heavily into Wedge Antilles has a case of survivor’s guilt the size of a Star Destroyer this ship only compounds my feelings).

Wedge Antilles/Lando Calrissian

They took down a Death Star together, that’s a start. I think the other thing about these two is they’re both very set on keeping their people safe – Wedge with his pilots, Lando with the people of Cloud City, and they have principles and lines they won’t cross but they’ll go through hell and back to try and save as many as they can. So maybe something about that?

Wedge Antilles/Mara Jade/Luke Skywalker

In which Wedge Antilles and Mara Jade have precisely one thing in common: they both think that Luke Skywalker is endearing and also kinda useless, and would do anything for him. Which includes teaming up to save Luke when he gets into yet more trouble (insert situation of choice here) despite the fact that Mara is really not very convinced by this short fly-boy with floppy hair who cannot act, and Wedge is not really over the fact that Mara wanted to kill Luke. Bonus points for them discovering that they have far more in common than they think, and for Talon Karrde & Booster Terrik background shenanigans.

(I’d be okay with platonic!wedge&mara, if you can’t get that bit to work, but I would like Wedge and Mara to both be in love with Luke - or on their way there - and for Luke to love them both back.)

Wes Janson/Derek “Hobbie” Klivian

So Wes and Hobbie are like the ultimate wingpair / brothers-in-arms, they are two peas in a pod, and I love them. I like slow realisation of feelings, the dragging out of the relationship over the years, perhaps one of them pining away whilst the other one wakes up one day and is like ‘oh, it’s you, you’ve been here all along and I never noticed.’ But also! Comic shenanigans, prank wars between them, practical jokes, truth or dare - I’m easy to please, honestly.

Jagged Fel/Jaina Solo/Zekk

Okay, for those who didn’t go and read all of Legends… Jagged Fel is Wedge Antilles nephew, Jaina Solo was Han and Leia’s daughter, and Zekk was one of Luke’s students. There was a bit of a love triangle going on. However, in many points, it was less of a love triangle, and more… well. They should have all banged.

Key moments include that time Jaina and Zekk were in a hive mind, and got slightly confused over whose memories were whose, leading to this conversation:

Our boyfriend means business, Zekk observed.

Don’t know that it’s him. And it’s old boyfriend.

Right. We’re so over him.

We?

And also the bit in Legacy of the Force: Invincible, where after Jag and Zekk help pull Jaina out of a sticky situation, she, in a state of confusion due to her banged up head, asks them to both to bunk with her.

So, basically, I want poly shenanigans – fic after the proposed quarters sharing would be great (what if Jag and Zekk took her seriously and had already moved everything about by the time she came round???), messy relationship rebuilding after the Dark Nest fiasco, something where Zekk steps in as Jaina and Jag’s relationship starts to fall apart post NJO? I dunno. But I want them all to kiss.

Plourr Ilo/Evaan Verlaine

They are both kickass lady pilots, and they are both very gay, sooooooooo… it is a crime that they do not exist in the same canon. I want shenanigans. I want an encounter where one or both is undercover and they don’t realise the other is a rebellion / new republic pilot until after everything. I want them on different squadrons trying to one up each other.

Wedge Antilles/Col "Fake Wedge" Takbright

I can’t believe Jason Fry made ‘fake wedge’ an actual thing, but IT HAPPENED, and so we should all take advantage of this glorious fact by making them kiss or something, I dunno, fill in the blanks.

On a semi-serious note, I actually really like the care between them at the end of that story, how Col takes one look at about-to-succumb-to-the-worst-survivor’s-guilt-wedge and just, doesn’t stand for it. And so I would LOVE fic about all the times that Col keeps digging Wedge out of despair. Maybe about how Col turns into Wedge’s most erstwhile defender, and Wedge keeps asking why Col keeps putting himself on the line for him, and realisations about how maybe what’s between them has developed into something more.

#may the fourth #fic writing #fic exchange #okay i think i've covered my bases on everything I want

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Violent Femmes return on July 26 with the new Hotel Last Resort, which is the band's tenth overall full-length and will be released by PIAS. It features guest appearances from Tom Verlaine (Television) and Stefan Janoski (pro skateboarder). The band also teamed up with Nike for the release of a specially branded shoe. The band is on tour now and hits the road again this summer, including several festival dates. Violent Femmes last released We Can Do Anything in 2016. Watch the title track below. via Scene Point Blank music news feed

#music #news #scenepointblank

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Wombwell Rainbow Interviews

I am honoured and privileged that the following poets, local, national and international have agreed to be interviewed by me. I gave the writers two options: an emailed list of questions or a more fluid interview via messenger. The usual ground is covered about motivation, daily routines and work ethic, but some surprises too. Some of these poets you may know, others may be new to you. I hope you enjoy the experience as much as I do.

Matt Duggan

Matt was born in 1971 and lives in Bristol in the U.K. with his partner Kelly his poems have appeared in many journals across the world such as Osiris Poetry Journal, Ink, Sweat, and Tears, The Blue Nib, Into the Void, The Journal, The Dawntreader, Midnight Lane Boutique, Anti—Heroin Chic Journal, The High Window, A Restricted View from Under the Hedge, Ghost City Review, Laldy Literary Journal, L’ Ephemere Review, Carillion, Lakeview International Literary Journal, Levure Litteraire, erbacce journal, The Stray Branch, Prole, Black Light Engine Room, Militant Thistles, Matt won the Erbacce Prize for Poetry in 2015 with his first full collection of poems Dystopia 38.10 and became one of five core members at Erbacce-Press. In 2017 Matt won the Into the Void Poetry Prize with his poem Elegy for Magdalene, and read his work across the east – coast of the U.S.A. with readings at the prestigious Cambridge Public Library Poetry Series in Boston, a guest poet appearance at The Parkside Lounge and Sip This in New York, and also read at his first U.S. book launch in Philadelphia. Matt has two new chapbooks available One Million Tiny Cuts (Clare Song Birds Publishing House) and A Season in Another World (Thirty West Publishing House) plus a small limited edition booklet The Feeding ( Rum Do Press) Venice and London. He has also read his work at Poetry on the Lake Festival in Orta, Italy, the Poetry Café in London, in Paxos in Greece, and at various venues across the U.K. he runs and hosts his own poetry events and was highly commended in the Road to Clevedon Pier Poetry Anthology Competition, his second full collection Woodworm (Hedgehog Poetry Press) is due in Spring 2019.

The Interview

1. What were the circumstances under which you began to write poetry?

I started writing poetry and prose when I was a young boy, the first poem I wrote won the best poem in my class at the age of twelve, I also remembered the time that we’d have to read a play in class and I’d end up reading four or five of the main characters from the play. I suppose the first real poems were written for the affections of young girls, from then it just progressed, almost like an obsession that I had to keep writing. I then started becoming political and writing about Thatcherism  and neo-politics and I never really wanted to be put myself into a category as a political poet that solely writes about protest and politics, but I think today and what surrounds us it’s necessary.

2. Who introduced you to poetry?

Who introduced me, well, that would be a good teacher at my local school called Mr Ford who used different ways to teach us about poetry, I became fascinated with the world of poetry and poets and he would tell us stories about Dylan Thomas, Thomas Chatterton, Verlaine, and many others, he brought the poems and the poet’s life into his teachings and had most classes absolutely transfixed, I just wish I could go back and thank him. It was around this time that I started writing a lot of material and sending them out to journals, of which 80% were rejected, but I do remember getting my first hand written acceptance in 94 / 96 from a lovely editor by the name of Jenne Conne who edited a magazine called ‘Connections’ based in London.  I still have that very letter which I do look at from time to time, she inspired me to continue writing and I just wish I could of thanked her.

3. How aware were you of the dominating presence of older poets?

Very aware, over the years I devoured large collections of  Ted Hughes, Shelley, Auden, Keats, Homer, Coleridge, Ashberry, Ginsberg, but I never really involved myself in the local scene at that time it was much later when I felt that I gained enough confidence to read in front of an audience, and sometimes, I do wish I took the plunge earlier.

4. What is your daily writing routine?

I don’t really have one but I have stuck to a few rules that I can’t break. I only write with a pencil and notepad and I never use any mobile devices apart from writing up the final drafts of poems onto a computer. I always write from the hours 3am to 6am and have around five notepads full of lines, themes, and half written poems that I work through when I have the time.

5. What motivates you to write?

Lots of reasons what motivates me from highlighting certain aspects of life that people generally don’t know about, such as media, history, politics, right wing propaganda, for me it’s about telling the truth about experience to the more day to day mundane. I also write to overcome feelings, and to face truths.  I try to operate on an open canvas and I suppose most things that I encounter on a daily basis can motivate me in some way to write, it could be a snippet from a conversation, a scene in a street, or a more imaginative image to conjure with, for me, poetry is everywhere.

6. What is your work ethic?

I have a very strong work ethic that I need to be constantly busy from reading submissions, reading competition entries, doing interviews for the erbacce journal, organising events to support and promote other poets in my hometown of Bristol, and my own writing which I’m concentrating more on these days. I do try to immerse myself in too much work which feeds me even more, it’s a little like getting rejections from journals I seem to feed on this, and hit back with something that they will in the end accept, I enjoy this a bit too much at times to be honest.

7. How do the writers you read when you were young influence you today?

The writers that I read when I was growing up were writing about social equality, rise of fascism, corporate takeovers, so I suppose it never really never went away and in that way they have influenced me to keep at it, to keep telling the truth, to challenge and to be honest with yourself , so I would say they have had a huge influence on my progress into the poetry world, there were also several writers who just didn’t do it for me and I remember reading all the Liverpool poets as I’d always liked Brian Patten work it just spoke to me as an adolescent, yet others in that same group did nothing for me then, and they still don’t.

8. Who of today’s writers do you admire the most and why?

This is a hard one as I read a lot of collections and it can change from month to month, but I would say Tony Harrison especially for his poem V and A Cold Coming I remember watching V on Channel 4 which had such a huge effect on me as a young boy, this was someone who was saying what I was thinking, and it was on T.V. plus a favourite of mine of his is The Gaze of the Gorgon I still pick up that collection and can never put it down,  I suppose because of the truth behind the poems, poetry for me is about telling the truth and being honest, a poem should make you think and should make you re – read the poem. The last Harrison book I picked up was Laureate’s Block and the title poem is simply sublime, I’d advise anyone thinking of entering into the poetry world to read this collection, other writers I admire are Andre Naffis- Sahely his debut collection The Promised Land for its themes on travel, displacement and disposable cities, his control of a poem is a delight to read as is Maria Castra Dominguez collection A Face in the Crowd, which is such a magical and beautiful experience. I’d also say Thomas McColl, Penny Rimbaud’s collection America, and How! (1973-2012) which I read while travelling across the U.S. recently I loved the poems and the bio which states ‘ He did not study at Oxford, he does not have a dog, a wife, a flat in North London or a house in Buckinghamshire. He has been a writer throughout his life.’ Brilliant! Also Simon Darragh,  and I’ve also just started re-reading John Tottenham’s The Inertia Variations it’s the best collection of poems written on the themes of sloth, inertia, and laziness, you’ll ever likely to find.

9. Why do you write?

I can’t remember a time when I didn’t write I suppose there are many reasons why I write sometimes it’s just for a little fun with silly puns and quirky poems of which I’ll never read out or would add to any collection, also, when I feel emotionally charged about a certain theme or subject it almost takes over my life, mind, and body, and becomes like an addiction until its finally finished, and then I get grumpy and very moody when I’m not writing.

10. What would you say to someone who asked you “How do you become a writer?”

Firstly I’d advise them to live life and maybe travel the world, live on a mountain, swim with dolphins, take notes, live with different cultures and experience as much of life as possible before putting pen to paper and especially read as many poetry collections as possible before finding a voice and then submit, submit, submit, and don’t be put off by bullies and editors who think that they know best, always be firm and believe in what you write and don’t take any shit from anyone.

11. Tell me about the writing projects you have on at the moment.

I’ve just finished two articles about my recent readings in the U.S.A which will be published in A Restricted View from Under the Hedge, and The Journal. I had two new chapbooks published  this year One Million Tiny Cuts

http://www.claresongbirdspub.com/shop/poetry/

and A Season in Another World

http://www.thirtywestph.com/shop/aseasoninanotherworld

also  involved with the upcoming 70th NHS anthology for erbacce-press. I’m also working on two new commissions with publishers, and  editing the final draft of ‘Brexit and Bandages’ journal, also, my second full collection of poems Woodworm (Hedgehog Poetry Press) which I’m so excited about will be published in Spring 2019. And I’ve also been asked to judge a new poetry competition called Songs of Lenin and McCarthy, based on protest poems in the form of songs by Lennon and McCartney.

Wombwell Rainbow Interviews: Matt Duggan Wombwell Rainbow Interviews I am honoured and privileged that the following poets, local, national and international have agreed to be interviewed by me.