#don katz

[kenpiercemedia]

Announcing The 32nd Gotham Independent Film Awards Winners

Last night the winners for the 32nd Annual Gotham Independent Film Awards were handed out and I’m happy to start your Tuesday morning with this information if you are a follower of any kind of independent film. I have to admit that I stick to my main big screen Marvel Studios and Warner Brothers stuff for the most part and only get to the theater for those types of releases and I should look more…

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#adam sandler michelle williams #aftersun #all that breathes #announcements #award shows 2022 #awards show announcements #bowen yang #charlotte wells #conrad ricamora #danielle deadwyler #don katz #everything everywhere all at once #fire island #gotham awards #gotham awards winners #gotham film and media institute #gracija filipovic #happening #james scully #jason cassidy #joel kim booster #ke huy quan #margaret cho #matt rogers #nick adams #peter kujawski #sidney poitier #tar #todd field #tomás matos

[ronk]

The Power of Food, Words, and A SEAT AT THE TABLE

Don Katz and Marcus Samuelsson: The Power of Food, Words, and A SEAT AT THE TABLE will be a special conversation at the Montclair Film Festival co-presented by Audible.

Storytelling, community and food have always gone hand in hand. Join Audible Founder, author, and Montclair native Don Katz and acclaimed chef and restaurateur Marcus Samuelsson for a lively conversation about bringing people together through the power of food and words.

They will discuss Don’s creation of a vital storytelling company that uses words to inspire and entertain and Marcus’s elevation of food to nourish and invigorate his restaurants worldwide.

Together they have a shared commitment to catalyze rebirth in Newark, NJ – home to Audible’s headquarters, Marcus’s restaurant Marcus B&P, and Audible’s nationally recognized program Newark Working Kitchens, which has provided meals to more than 10,000 Newark residents.

Don and Marcus will also discuss Marcus’s upcoming Audible Original, SEAT AT THE TABLE, which brings listeners into some of the most iconic American restaurants of our time.

Tickets at https://montclairfilm.org/events/in-conversation-with-marcus-samuelsson-don-katz/

#Don Katz #Marcus Samuelson #Audible #food restaurants #Newark #NJ #storytelling #conversations #mff2022 #montclair film festival

[murplemuddle]

got a calligraphy pen !

#various doodles #my art #traditional art #don wada #taiko no tatsujin #dragon #doodles #pen is a lot of fun #art #yomig mar #curry cute #katz

[qupritsuvwix]

#sweet and gentle #mickey katz #don byron #klezmer #Youtube

[ivynightshade]

her garden yearns more for visitors than water.

[fatima aamer bilal, from my heart has claws // cody rocko // margaret atwood, from speeches for dr. frankenstein // cody rocko // @metamorphesque // jonathan safran foer // ruth katz crispin, from memory in my hands: the love poetry of pedro salinas; "the voice i owe to you" // fatima aamer bilal, from even flesh eaters don't want me // don synder // fatima aamer bilal, from moony moonless sky]

#poeticstories #poetry #web weaving #longing #yearning #literature #literary #art #book quotations #quotes #writings #taylor swift #lana del rey #sylvia plath #franz kafka #fantasy #fiction #typography #dark academia #dark poetry #aesthetic #bts #poem #prose #sad thoughts #life crisis #excerpts from my journal #diary entries #margaret atwood #lyrics

[carpblu]

Zum deutschen ESC-Vorentscheid:

Ryk, Isaak and NinetyNine fänd ich am Besten, aber überwiegend weil es solide Nummern sind die im Einheitsbrei verschwinden, ohne dass man sich groß dafür schämen muss. Ryk´s song is irgendwie der Beste, NinteyNine is bissl interessant und Isaak´s Stimme gefällt mir am besten von allen Songs bisher. Stimmlich gefallen mir alle drei.

Leona fand ich auch ok aber einen so ruhigen Song zu schicken fänd ich fatal. Andererseits mag ich den Titel sehr gern und eventuell schicken andere Länder dieses Jahr mehr Experimentelles als wir und ein ruhigerer Song wär da gut? Bin da sehr untentschlossen.

Mutzke auch solide aber irgendwie holt mich das gar nicht ab.

Bodine Monet bissl interessant aber sehr indie mainstream and zu sehr Tattoo-inspiriert irgendwie.

Ich bin keine Schlagermaus, also müssen wir über Marie Reim gar nicht reden, aber wie blöd ist der Song bitte? Wenn wir sie hinschicken bin ich nur froh dass niemand versteht worüber sie singt.

Alles in allem gefallen mir bis auf Naiv alle Songs aber keiner ist wirklich ESC-reif.

Und ein Song fehlt noch? Wenn der nicht besser ist als alles was wir bisher gehört haben rentiert sich das nichtmal den Vorentscheid zu gucken, ey.

Sag mal was du davon hältst. Bin ehrlich gesagt nichtmal sicher ob ich es dieses Jahr überhaupt gucke.

Could I have written all of this in English? Sure. But you don´t have to know everything. German Blast! (In conclusion: Germany will once again be losing ESC by a long shot because there is no risk and no fun anywhere - nothing to write home about but nothing to be ashamed of either.)

Galants Katzensong ist cool und sticht immerhin etwas raus, aus der bisherigen Auswahl mein Favorit (: endlich wieder was auf deutsch seit 2007 wäre ja auch was 😄 leider treten sie nicht mit ihrem Song tanzen 1-8 an, den finde ich viel besser als Katze. Aber damit könnte ich leben.

Max Mutzke ist gar nicht meins, das finde ich einfach nur öde.

Tears like rain ist ganz gut, finde es aber auch nicht interessant genug.

Oh Boy mag ich gar nicht, aber ich bin auch echt kein Balladen Fan (wenige Ausnahmen, paskana von Sara Siipola mag ich zum Beispiel richtig gern). Wird beim ESC wahrscheinlich schnell wieder vergessen sein und allein darum nix reißen 🙈

Was muss eigentlich mit einer Auswahl los sein, dass ich den Schlager gar nicht die schlechteste Wahl fände??🤣🙈🤣 Lied ist total bescheuert, versteh mich nicht falsch. Aber wenigstens nicht der gleiche Radio Pop Brei wie immer, das ist ein plus👍🏻 und den Text versteht eh kaum jemand 😄

Love on a budget ist nett, mehr kann ich dazu nicht sagen.

Undream you, sorry 😴😴😴😴

Always on the run siehe oben bei Love on a budget. Auch nicht interessant genug um weit zu kommen, fürchte ich.

Ich hoffe auf Conchita Wursts casting, diese Hoffnung bleibt uns 😅

Yeah so in conclusion, most of this is boring, we will deserve last place. Only hope is that great Britain flops even more and they are sending Olly Alexander, so the back of the scoreboard will belong to Germany uncontested😂👍🏻 this is all way too safe and uninteresting, people don't vote for songs that are kind of Okei.

Summary:

#eurovision 2024 #eurovision #deutscher Vorentscheid #auf zum letzten platz!

[tuttocenere]

Schubert, Winterreise, Amir Katz / Pavol Breslik, 2019

When I first saw this album, I thought: what strangely horny cover art this Winterreise has. Now that I have listened to it, I can say: well done, cover artist. Perfect unity of form and content.

See, this album is recorded as follows: The piano sound is soft, like a harp, softer than a harp. I have no idea how they accomplished this, if they hid the pianist under a velvet blanket and had him wear silk gloves. In any case, there is absolutely no clicking of keys or other hint of physicality. It's a perfectly abstract and elegant piano sound, from the platonic realm of ideas straight to my ears. But the singing is the opposite. From the in-breaths to all the strange little hisses and clips a voice can make, this album records all the mechanics of air moving through a human mouth. The instrument of flesh.

It would be easy to forget this is a Winterreise, then. The listener may feel quite warm. But: the musicians did not forget. They know what they're trying to accomplish with every phrase of every Lied, and for the most part, I'm with them.

So it might not be a surprise to learn I quite liked this one.

How I found it: I have google alerts on for every singer from the 2017 Aix Don Giovanni.

#winter wednesday #tenor winterreise

[nichenarratives]

Hurricane Heller 5

A Niche Narratives Fanficiton

last | first | next

[Trigger warnings: Period typical antisemitism; anti-semitic slur use; graphic depictions of violence and gun violence; minor character death; mentions of gore]

5. Slanderous Details

Time moves slowly, but Mordecai is patient. Intent on ruining Jimbo from the ground up, he makes ample time not only to gather intel, but to flourish from a frightened young Jewish boy into the man his bar mitzvah celebrated. Jimbo's antics aside - which get slowly less severe - Mordecai focuses his attention on his standing with Mr Fiores and the company, biding his time and carefully altering his appearance to appeal to the underboss specifically.

Doing so is easy; he mimics tailored suits, monogrammed cufflinks and pointed Italian loafers, invests in a silver plated tie pin, even curating his posture and accent (he ditched the New York rustic for clear enunciation) to sound professional and look confident. He even invests in a fedora, though he rarely wears it, finding the ear restriction annoying.

Eight months down the line, after finally deciding it's time to enact his revenge, Mordecai skips work to spend time with his family instead. He draws (awfully) with Rose, engages Esther in a brief game of chequers (he won) and helps his mother with preparations for dinner (brisket and tzimmes, a family favourite), all the while watching the clock, knowing his future is inevitable.

His familial bliss is frequently interrupted by a whisper in the recesses of conscious thought that's convinced it's going to backfire. Perhaps that's why he makes time for each of the women in his life, to ensure they carry fond memories of him should the worst occur, but he won't let a mere possibility dictate his choices. His family are counting on him to succeed.

With everyone tucked safely into bed by ten, Mordecai sets to work becoming Elijah Katz; he slicks back wayward hair, clips a collar around his neck and dons his best three piece over a crisp, white shirt. Going through his collection of ties, the tom pauses on red silk thumbing the soft material in thought before extracting it from the drawer.

Despite being new to the temple, Nataliya's family brought the tie as their bar mitzvah gift for the young tom, presenting it privately as they left the event after realising the rest of the congregation gathered their finances for a commemorative gift. It's still the finest in his expanding collection, a striking colour as vivid as fresh blood as he fixes it over his shirt. It feels fitting for the occasion.

The routine of dressing for the part quells the negative voice questioning his methodology. Now isn't the time for second guesses or insecurity. Meeting his reflection's gaze while he tightens his tie to his throat, Mordecai is hit with a sense of peace. Everything collated, analysed and recorded since his assault have led to this evening, he's on the precipice of the future, whatever it may bring.

His pulse remains steady, his mind clear of doubt; he's never been more prepared.

Finally, he retrieves his most treasured possession; a silver plated pocket watch, the dust cover delicately etched with a series of interlocking cogs of all sizes. Presented by mother, the entire congregation pooled their funds and purchased it, to commemorate his first steps into manhood. He thumbs its etched cover affectionately, then clicks it open.

Almost eleven. Mordecai frowns and snapping it shut, slips the watch into his waistcoat pocket, making sure to secure it to a safety chain. Evisceration beacons.

His arrival at the launderette is uneventful. The enforcers in the lobby let him pass with only the briefest of looks, having become accustomed to his nightly visits. None of them are seemingly aware he's early, but that doesn't bother him; his business and theirs are very different focal points. They wait for direction, then savagely hunt their prey, while the tuxedo finds his own deserving targets. Like Jimbo.

Mordecai pauses at the door, makes final adjustments to his tie pin to disguise a steadying breath, then knocks. Almost immediately, it's wrenched open by a bodyguard, taking the adolescent slightly off guard. Before he can even request an audience with Mr Fiores, he's roughly dragged into the back room by a bicep and thrown into another lackey, who swiftly relieves him of his satchel and letter opener before forcing him to sit in a vacant chair.

Mordecai masks raised hackles and anxious tail flickers with a sour glare before pointedly brushing the creases out of his jacket sleeve. A chuckle flows around the room, all enjoying his irritation, except for the bodyguard going through his bag. Mr Fiores regards the events with indifference while a cigar belches smoke between fat fingers, the underboss seemingly almost bored, but intensely focused He knows I wasn't at the tracks.

He knows Jimbo likely snitched on his absence, sending a runner to incriminate him as soon as the clock ticked past nine. It's an inconvenience, but one Mordecai anticipated and prepared for. Knowing there's no point acting ignorant, he glances at Fiores for permission to speak. A silent wave of a palm, an expectant glare, and Mordecai has the floor.

"To begin, I assume you are aware of James' vendetta," he states. Anyone who's spoken to Jimbo in the last nine months knows of the Yid he's forced to manage and how much he despises the boy. "I wish to preface this discussion with assurance that the information I'm about to provide is not related to our disagreement, nor motivated by monetary gain."

Both statements are lies yet convincingly shared, not an iota of deception in his tone. He pauses there, awaiting leave to continue as Fiores seems to consider these claims with an extended draw on his cigar. After what seems like a lifetime, he's once again given the floor. Mordecai is only just getting started. "While my concerns are based on numerous inconsistencies, first and foremost, I must admit to being privy to sensitive information I fear I should not have been. At least, I assume a 'bookie' shouldn't have access to intake or purchase ledgers."

There's a subtle change in Fiores' expression, a narrowing of the eyes. He's paying attention. Mordecai pointedly looks at the man still holding his satchel and holds out a hand for its return. A second of subtle eye contact with Mr Fiores and it's handed over without difficulty. The tuxedo places the bag on the table and extracts numerous ledgers, passing each of them to the lackey to present to their boss.

With Jimbo shirking his work for months even before he'd settled on torturing Mordecai, it was easy to gather evidence of his laziness. The man willingly supplied almost everything in the notebook by foisting the majority of his duties onto the adolescent bookkeeper. Access to ledgers he shouldn't see made it easy to make duplicates with very subtle changes to final figures. The final part of his plan.

Mordecai meticulously fabricated a minor difference in every ledger in the last eight months; fifty cents or a dollar at most per day. It could be a forgotten bet or an annulled payout, a write-off most companies would swallow. The organisation is certainly capable of doing so, but Mordecai is relying on two factors; that a lowly bookie has had access to records, then those record were seemingly edited by a bet or two in between Mordecai and Jimbo.

He needs only to highlight the 'problem.'

"As a prudent man, I track my monthly income carefully," he continues once Mr Fiores has the ledgers, even if he doesn't open them. He's aware the man hates to read without true cause. "Based on the percentage we agreed not correlating with my salary, I created duplicates of ledgers placed on my workload to assess potential miscommunications, yet found nothing, which leads me to conclude my numbers and those submitted as final reports are inconsistent."

"I hope you realise what you're doing, Katz." Mr Fiores sits forward, leaning over the table to get into Mordecai's face. Dark ears fold back as the scent of cigar smoke permeates the air. "Tell me plain. I want to be sure you know how serious it is, before I look in these books."

When he first started working for Mr. Fiores, Mordecai would have folded then and there, stuttering - possibly begging - to have his books back and make a hasty exit. He'd been just a kid back then, a desperate and stupid kid getting way over his head in a dangerous profession. But that stupid kid has changed, and Mordecai holds his gaze without an issue, his tone flat and level. "I believe James Heartfell is embezzling funds from the organisation, with the intent of framing me."

Fiores stares back at him for a heartbeat, then two. Neither yields, the young lad tightening his jaw, until the underboss smiles and takes a toke of his cigar inches from Mordecai's muzzle. "You've grown into those suits, boy." The smoke burns his sinuses, but the tuxedo cat dare not flinch. "Let's hope you've not gotten too big for your boots on the way."

The next few hours are spent in relative silence. Mr Fiores has the official ledgers brought out to compare to the duplicates recently supplied, but it's obvious within the first ten minutes he's picked up on the differences. He has a lackey keeping track of each inconsistency, totalling up their phantom funds through all eight months of books, leading up to just three weeks after the assault and beginning of the disagreements.

As architect of the whole scheme, Mordecai sits quietly at the opposite end of the table, speaking when addressed or not at all. To his pleasant surprise, he's offered refreshments an hour into the arrangement and gladly accepts some tea. It's the first time he's tasted Earl Gray, a blend far too expensive for his monthly budget, and he honestly can't tell if it's superior blend or circumstances, but it tastes sublime.

Another hour or so - and another perfect cup of tea - Fiores has finished assessing the duplicate ledgers and informed Mordecai they won't be returned. He's completely fine with it; they've served their purpose. The underboss will probably burn them to disguise his own apparent failures once Jimbo makes his appearance at the launderette and by extension, remove any evidence of Mordecai's deception. A win-win.

When the man of the hour arrives, his welcome is similar to the one Mordecai endured; he's dragged into the back room by his tie and thrown into another bodyguard, who roughly removes his side arm, switchblade and ledgers. The young tom just sips his tea nonchalantly as an attempt to complain is met with a swift crack of fist to bone and a grunt of pain, a combination that gives Mordecai a moment's pause before he resumes enjoying his Earl Gray.

In his peripheral vision, Jimbo is manhandled to face Fiores as the day's ledgers are handed over. A trickle of red below a nostril soaking dull brown pelt and pooling above Jimbo's lip indicates he took the punch directly on the snout. A small smile touches Mordecai's lips for a half a second before his nonchalant mask is firmly back in place.

You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. As soon as Jimbo clocks the monochromatic feline lounging within a chair, he murrs angrily and pulls against the hands holding him securely in place. "What th'fuck you said 'bout me, boy? Huh?! I'll wring your scrawny ne-!" 

A swift kick to the back of a knee silences Jimbo's rants. His legs collapse and he sags with a gasp in their' grasp, until one of them grabs his hair and yanks his head up, forcing the pathetic man to meet Mr Fiores' gaze. The underboss is staring, smoking yet another cigar, and Jimbo goes pale in his scathing crosshairs. It's a look no one ever wants to get from a mob boss. "M-Mr Fiores, sir! Whatever he said, you know it ain't right. He's a lazy, lyin' heeb trying to-"

"On the contrary," Fiores interrupts briskly, not once looking away from the tawny feline. His voice seems to bring an end to his struggling and Jimbo hangs like a ragdoll, supported only by the two goons at his sides. "It would seem Katz worked exceptionally hard for the last few months, at the very least. What I'd like to know, before we get into details, is why he's been doing your duties on top of his own."

Before he can explain, the grifter is thrown to the floor and a boot pressed to his back to keep him there. The underboss leans closer around the table, thick smoke seeping out from between stained teeth as he speaks. "Denying it won't work either, Heart. He brought evidence - hundreds of duplicates, all of ledgers he shouldn't even have seen." 

The last word is delivered with a kick. Jimbo cries out as a steel toe capped boot cracks against his jaw. There's another crack, a whimper, and despite his resolve, Mordecai flinches; he's not privy to much violence in his role as a bookkeeper. While Jimbo deserves every ounce of pain he's receiving, it doesn't make it any easier for the adolescent to witness. He sets down his tea and closes his eyes, focusing on keeping his expression level, not wishing to seem affected.

"Haven't we been good enough to you?" Fiores asks next, leaning down to the bleeding, whimpering mess at his feet, fake disbelief in his tone. Hot ash falls to the man's back as the underboss looms over his prone form. "I gave you a job, a purpose, and this is how you repay me? Stealing, without the self respect to accept responsibility for your choice? I thought we had an agreement, Jimbo. An understanding."

A slight hand motion, and the boot comes off Jimbo's back. The man scrambles to his knees, sobbing and pleading, all pretenses of bravery abandoned as he begs. "I-I'm sorry for passin' on jobs! I didn't th-think it was a big deal! I won't do it again, I won't! But I swear on m-me Mam I ain't been takin' no money! I promise! That kike-"

When he cuts off with a gasp so swiftly after using another slur, the young feline dares can't help but open his eyes to see what transpired. He finds Jimbo frozen on all fours at the underboss' feet, eyes wide and pupils constricted as he stares down the barrel of his own side arm, Fiores leveling it to the man's forehead with an almost detached tiredness.

"I don't like liars," the man states. It takes all of Mordecai's self control to not shudder at that simple statement, knowing what's unfolding is his own doing, based on lies. Fiores casually pulls back the firing pin, the low click echoing in the silent room as the monochrome tom feels his heart beat harder in his chest. "I don't like people who steal from me either, because people who steal from me are idiots. There's no time for idiots in my business, Heart. Even ones I trusted."

Sharp yellow eyes shift to Mordecai. The feline freezes as with a single finger, Fiores beckons the adolescent over, an invitation he knows he's expected to accept. His legs leaden and heavy, it's an immense effort to stand and make his way around the table, his own gaze fixing on Jimbo's frightened gaze as he does, both their fates uncertain in Fiores' hand.

It's only when the pistol, the serial number scratched off and buffed away, is pressed into his palm that Mordecai knows how this is going to end. 

"It won't bite," Fiores mutters, his breath so close the heat of it raises the hairs on his arm. A titter of laughter lilts around the room as tentatively, Mordecai closes a hand around the handle. The smooth metal is cold to the touch, lighter than anticipated, but a little too large for his adolescent hand to manage. "There you go, son. Wasn't that easy?"

A meaty hand still wrapped firmly around the tom's, Fiores levels the barrel with Jimbo's head once more. Jimbo looks terrified, his whole body shaking, the stench of fear wafting off his pelt almost suffocating. Mordecai attempts to lower it but Fiores resists, adjusting the barrel to the center of the cowering man's forehead even as the adolescent's arm also begins to shake with uncontainable fear.

Stabilizing his aim, Fiores teases the boy's index finger off the handle and places it over the trigger, pressing down with his own to make sure it can't slip off. The trigger resists their pressure, the mechanisms within primed for purpose, the power of life or death resting in his palm. Just a few pounds of pressure separate him from an irreversible action.

"One shot between the eyes is all it takes, Little Bookie." Fiores whispers, flexing his index finger. "One well-aimed bullet will fell any man, even one built like a brick shithouse. All you have to do is-"

Fiores compresses the lad's finger on the trigger, pushing past the minimum force limit. The single shot sounds like an explosion in the small launderette back room, ricocheting off walls and compounding inside Mordecai's ringing ears. He flinches, black dots dancing in front of his eyes as anxiety and fear conspire to erase any complex thoughts, heartbeat so harsh in his throat the splatter if brain matter on his face is felt in excessive and revolting definition.

Not prepared for what just transpired - the sounds, the smell of gunpowder, the iron taste in the air or the blowback on his face - he drops the gun almost as soon as it's discharged, which clatters to the tiled floor. Laughter envelopes the room as dry heaving, Mordecai collapses against the table and frantically searches every pocket for a handkerchief.

Whether it's guilt or morbid curiosity, he can't help but look back when Jimbo's lifeless body tumbles to the floor, hole in his head openly smoking, with the acrid smells of burnt flesh and singed hair joining the onslaught of new scents. Finding his handkerchief, Mordecai immediately wipes his face and neck free of blood and tissue even as blood leaks out of the lifeless man at his feet.

A heavy hand on his shoulder almost knocks Mordecai over, but Fiores' smile is genuine when he turns around. He looks almost proud, creating a sick sensation in the adolescent's gut as he's patted on the back. He's offered another cup of tea - politely declined, to no one's surprise - then lead to the front of the launderette with promises of a raise if he'll accept Jimbo's old job, Fiores' men clearing up the 'mess' they left behind without a word.

When he gets home, he washes his face seven times before bed. Uncomfortably stiff in his sheets, Mordecai stares at the ceiling as he reflects on the evening. In essence, his scheme worked perfectly; Jimbo was removed from the company, is no longer a threat, and Mordecai inherited his better paid job. He'll be able to afford to rent a room, finally separate his family from the sordid affairs in which he engages wntirely, while earning enough to keep them housed and saving to move.

Despite his success, Mordecai doesn't sleep that night. With fresh memories of Jimbo's lifeless corpse haunting his mind when he closes his eyes, he's not sure he ever will again. 

#lackadaisy #lackadaisy cats #lackadaisy mordecai #mordecai heller #fanfiction #fanfic #no beta we die like atlas may #hurricane heller #niche narratives #tracy j butler #hurricane heller chapter 5 #gun violence #minor character death #humdinger

[persephonyed]

closed starter for @angclnumber ft. odessa + slater !

after a couple hours mulling back and forth over a bottle of red wine, odessa realized she couldn’t fight off the temptation and texted her old band manager, seeing if she could score a ticket to tonight's show. it was easy to say she was nostalgic and hopeful for the band’s success, and wanted to wish them well on their first gig without her... but despite the sincere act she effortlessly put on, she wished quite the opposite. the poor band was just collateral damage, though; slater katz was the sole object of her infuriation and the reason she donned her own captain america disguise, throwing on a baseball cap and inconspicuous coat before heading to the venue. settling into the crowd, she’d enjoyed the majority of the show, even feeling slight pangs of guilt and envy as they performed the songs she had once been on stage with them for, singing the words she wrote, seemingly tapping into all of her raw emotions without her even there. they were doing good, and it fucking killed odessa. but even then, amidst the shoving fans who held up signs that she wanted to burn, odessa couldn’t help but fixate on them. it wasn’t until they were nearing the end, the chords to a particular slow song that swelled her heart started playing and odessa met slater’s eyes. it was undeniable and impossible to look away from, heart stopping either in sheer terror or their lingering connection that couldn’t be denied, and odessa instantly knew her cover was blown. it didn't take an idiot to see it reflecting back her way.

#odessa goodwin / convo; slater. #odessa goodwin / starter. #angclnumber #OKAY HERE WE GO WITH THIS GD MESS #it's early and my brain did Not fully kick in for this but here is my best shot bestie #also pls ignore the length u know i jsut had to set the scene hehe

[dustedmagazine]

Listed: Jesse Kivel

Photo by David Katz

Jesse Kivel has been making indie rock music since the aughts, first in the hyper-literate band Princeton with his twin brother Matt and later in synth-dance-y Kisses. Now living in Maine and newly a dad, he recorded his best material yet in the second solo album, Life and Death at Party Rock. In her review at Dusted last month, Jennifer Kelly wrote, “Kivel has suddenly scratched below the surface, finding an unexpected, melancholy beauty in loosely collated daydreams. Life and Death at Party Rock haunts rather than pleases.” Here’s what Kivel has in his listening queue.

Bobby McFerrin — By The Sea

My friend Michael passed me this video years ago and I was just blown away by the talent, skill and concentration displayed in this performance. A lot of times we focus on the recorded version of a song, but in this case, Bobby makes a simple song transform into a technical feat of emotion and beauty.

Oasis — Live by The Sea (full concert)

Oasis was the band that changed everything for me. My brother and I would pretend to be Noel and Liam, snarling and playing Noel’s simple yet powerful solo's. We also snagged all of their live concert videos, including this one. Nothing beats Liam’s swagger in this moment and the energy and excitement this group could bring.

Alessi Brothers — Seabird (live)

This song was on a compilation or mixtape I received a while back. Gorgeous vibes and perfect to play in the early evenings. Also, keeping up with the brother/identical twin theme that has defined my life and creative output.

Linda McCartney — Seaside Woman

One of my wife Zinzi’s favorite songs, this tune has incredibly energy and feel. The lyrics are a touch problematic, and I truly can't be sure that Paul didn't write this one. He is basically singing through the entire thing, and it sounds like his vibe. Regardless, it is a lovely tune and I really like Linda’s solo record.

Beck — Guess I'm Doing Fine: Sea Change

Easily my favorite Beck record. It speaks to some of the natural textures and feelings I was trying to put on my new LP. This record reminds me of visiting a college in Atlanta. I slept over on campus and this record helped me sleep in a strange/unknown environment.

Don Gibson — Sea of Heartbreak

An iconic and classic tune, covered by everyone from Jonny Cash to Van Morrison. Gorgeous and simple, like many of those late 50’s/early 60’s tunes of yesteryear.

Phil Phillips & The Twilights — Sea of Love

I am 38 so most of my friends and peers know the Cat Power version of this. I have love for that cover as it exposed me to the original. I love the crisp and focused way the original is recorded. Eerie and slightly haunting, it is a beautiful tune.

Jesse Kivel — Overgrown Ocean

I would be nothing if not a shameless self-promoter :) This song is about visualizing myself crashing down into Penobscot Bay on a Cape Air Cessna. I wrote the lyrics to this song on my first flight with Cape Air which was incredibly foggy and overwhelming. As we cut through the clouds, an overwhelming calm reached me, and the lyrics are a meditation on death and finding peace with it.

Dennis Wilson — Pacific Ocean Blues

Growing up in Southern California, all I can say is I can relate to Dennis and the blues that often can accompany living in the region. The relentless sun and lack of seasons can really do someone in. Dennis, to his credit, correctly points out over and over in this song that the Pacific Ocean is blue. I appreciate his clear-eyed perception here.

Wilco + Billy Bragg — The Secret of The Sea

Wilco and Billy Bragg both have loomed large in my early musical education. Separately with their early records and then this Woody Guthrie collaboration. My brother and I went to Tulsa to visit Guthrie's museum a few years ago. While the Dylan one was put together more tastefully, I just remember relating to Guthrie as all his notebooks had endless amounts of mundane lists. This captured my heart as this is essentially all I do with my notebooks as well.

#dusted magazine #listed #jesse kivel #bobby mcferrin #oasis #alessi brothers #linda mccartney #beck #don gibson #phil phillips & the twilights #dennis wilson #wilco #billy bragg

[moral-terpitude]

The Dead Rabbit - Part X

Charlotte had just finished restocking the bar in preparation for the busy night that was ahead of her when her phone began to ring. She smiled to herself, realizing she still had Tommy’s name in her phone as Mr. Shelby.

“Well good morning, Mr. Shelby,” she prodded.

He let low moan escape his lips, “Charlotte do not start with me this morning, I swear.”

She was fully aware what she was doing to him. It wasn’t what she said but the way she said it. She paced behind the bar, stoking the fire she had lit in his mind with her words, “Or what?”

He sank down in the leather chair letting his head rest comfortably with a sigh, “I was going to ask if you wanted to meet at Katz’s for lunch in a half hour but if you can’t behave I’ll have to pick things up and come straight there and take you on the top of your fucking bar.”

She thought for a moment, being the only one there, it wasn’t like it was out of the question as a possibility, “You make that sound like that’s the bad option.”

“No, it’s just the ‘neither of us are going to accomplish all that we need to do today’ option.” He was matter of fact. He hoped she didn’t take it as coming off short with her.

“Good point. I’ll see you in a half hour.”

“Goodbye, Charlotte.”

She retreated upstairs to retrieve her coat and purse although she knew he wasn’t going to let her pay for a thing. It was just the way he was.

She rode silently in the cab as she could feel her flush face cooling down.

He grabbed his coat from the rack in the office as there was a knock at the door, “Come in.” He retrieved his leather gloves from the pocket of his coat as his Secretary opened the door.

“Mr. Shelby,” she began, but paused as she saw him preparing himself to leave. “I apologize, do you have a meeting?”

He hesitated, “Yes, a lunch. What is it, Natasha?”

“It wasn’t on your agenda today.”

“It doesn’t need to be. I know what my plans are for the day and how to schedule around them. What do you need?”

“You’ve gotten a phone call from the New York State Liquor Authority regarding preliminary information for an operating license, they said you can find the paperwork and the fee scheduling online. Also, there was a call from Pippin Jewelers. They said they received a Sapphire and Diamond Navette circa 1880, and a set of Sapphire and Diamond cuff links from circa 1910. They also said the 1920s bar pin you requested modifications to was ready to be picked up.”

He sighed, running his tongue along the back of his lower teeth, “It is supposed to be for a distillers permit, but I can sort that out me self. Please call back the jeweler, tell them I’ll be in for the Bar Pin and if they can replace the Sapphires on the cuff links with emeralds I’ll take those as well.”

She gave him a curt nod, her brown hair swaying as she turned to leave, “very well, Mr. Shelby.”

He finished donning his coat, gloves, and flat cap before leaving the office. He knew it would be out of his way but he opted to stop by the jeweler first, in an attempt to try and give her a gift that he hoped she would love.

The cab ride there was shorter than Charlotte had expected, but they were meeting just before lunch so maybe she had managed to beat some traffic.

Snow started to sprinkle the air as she paid the cab driver and stepped outside. She couldn’t remember the last time she went to Katz’s. She glanced both ways down the street however Tommy was nowhere in sight.

She went inside and sat in the table service section while she waited. It was about 10 more minutes before he joined her, snow coating his garments as he shed his outer layers and sat across from her. She had ordered herself a coffee and him a water in his absence.

“I have something for you,” he remarked as he reached inside his jacket and removed a black rectangular velvet box from the breast pocket.

“They had to repair it to make it wearable, so ignore the metal plate, but If you didn’t know the difference you’d think it was always there.”

He placed the box on the table between them and Charlotte took it slowly, holding it in her hands before opening it. The hinge was strong and it popped open almost immediately.

The pin was silver filigree, fluid but structured. A hard edge surrounded the entirety of the pin, but the Art Deco metal work of the interior had a pattern almost reminiscent of feathers. A large clear emerald was sat in the center, flanked on each side by three white diamonds.

She took it gently in her hand and turned it to view the back side, and on the silver plate in question she saw an inscription:

She loved me for the dangers I had passed,

And I loved her that she did pity them.

“This is the only witchcraft I have used.” Charlotte whispered, completing the quote from Othello. “Thank you, Tommy. It’s beautiful.”

Nothing on Earth would make me wear it. The Russian woman’s voice echoed in her head as she closed the box gently and sat it between them on the table.

“Who,” Charlotte began as she was interrupted by her phone ringing in her pocket, “sorry, I’ve got to take this.” She whispered as she removed herself from the table in an effort to not be rude.

“What’s going on Anna?” She asked as she stepped outside.

“The ice machine isn’t working. I’ve called a couple of places but no one will come out and service it today.”

Charlotte sighed, “Shit. Of Course. Won’t make it thru the first couple hours with what’s there. Go upstairs and grab my keys and I guess we’ll just have to buy ice. Take Javi or Max with you and we’ll have to keep it in the walk in freezer.”

“Okay. Do you want me to just use the card?”

“Or take some cash out of the till. Doesn’t matter to me.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“No, thank you.”

“Everything okay?” He asked as she returned to her seat.

Charlotte shrugged with a sigh as she sipped her coffee, “Par for the course, ice maker quit on one of the busiest nights of the year, no one will come out to fix it because it’s, well, the busiest night of the year.” She made a small disgusted gesture with her hands.

“I can take a look at it,” he offered.

“I’m sure they already did their best,” She furrowed her brow as the waitress approached them from the distance, “What do you know about ice machines?”

He shrugged, repressing a smile, “Absolutely nothing.”

The bar had started filling up around 6:30 that night. Both floors were full when Charlotte’s phone started exploding with messages.

Marcie and Erika, the other two bartenders who were supposed to be working with her tonight were both, conveniently, now unable to make their way into work. They offered no explanation and she frankly didn’t need one, she knew what was going on. She had been young once.

It would be doable. It would be okay. Until it wasn’t. And then people would just have to wait.

Going on 9, Tommy tried calling Charlotte, with no answer. He imagined she was already quite busy. By the fourth time he called her he was starting to get concerned.

He concluded there was not another paper or email that couldn’t wait until the new year, and locked up the office to make his way to the pub.

Once he saw traffic to confirm what Charlotte had said, he knew there was no chance of taking a cab there in a timely manner. It would be roughly an hour walk to get there, or the metro would be about 20 minutes taking the N to Whitehall Street.

He wasn’t sold on the idea of being trapped underground in a narrow tunnel full of people. He shook off the feeling, reminding himself that his claustrophobia issue was an inherited trait, and wove his way through the cluster of people going to and fro to try and make it before the next train went.

Someone had put Dan Auerbach on the jukebox. The jazzy guitar rang through the bar as Charlotte continued making the drinks of the people waiting.

Tommy took the stairs up the back, finding his way into the bar without digging through the dregs of people. He wasn’t sure where he was headed, just that he needed to go up. He determined that the kitchen was the only way through to the bar. There were 7 or so people, and none of them were paying attention to him, however you’d think a man in suit weaving his way through a packed kitchen would draw some attention. He pondered which door to go through as he eyed his options, but was pulled out of his train of thought by a small woman yelling at him.

“I said hey!” She really wasn’t any smaller than Charlotte, however she was more ferocious looking. Her red hair was pulled up in a bun on top of her head, and several piercings adorned her face. Shockingly they complemented her well.

“Hello, pretty boy, anyone in there?” She waved her hand in front of Tommy’s face, “What the fuck are you doing in the kitchen?”

If he had a guess, he bet this was Anna. “I’m looking for Charlotte,” he bowed his head as he spoke to avoid yelling yet make sure she could hear him, “I’m Tommy,” he stuck his hand out to her, but she shook her head and turned.

“C’mon, you’re in the way back here!” She yelled as they walked through the wooden door to their right.

She nodded in Charlotte’s direction before walking past Tommy back into the kitchen.

He could see she was one drink short of drowning behind the bar. He removed his jacket, barely able to think over the clatter and clamor of people’s voices and glasses. He tucked it with the well liquor and approached the woman looking particularly exasperated with the fact she had to wait for a drink on New Years Eve.

“How can I help you ma’am?” he asked as the woman leaned on the bar so he could hear what she said. He noted that Charlotte hadn’t saw him yet, and she looked to be in her element behind the bar. She looked down the bar to her right, and he could see in the midst of her retained curls, pulled back in a chignon, that she had elected to wear the bar pin in her hair. She had on quite the outfit. A pair of black trousers and oxfords paired with a teal sequin blouse, adorned with tassels, shoulder pads, and all.

“I need two Guinness, a Two Hearted, and a Gin and Tonic.”

He nodded, and approached Charlotte at the other end of the bar to pour the beers first. He placed his hand on her back as he walked behind her in order to not startle her, his shoes not faring well with the rubber floor mats behind the bar. It wouldn’t have been half as bad if they weren’t so sticky.

He grabbed three of the pint glasses from under the bar, holding one up as he spoke, “Guinness first, yeah?” he knew the answer. Guinness always was poured first so that it had time to settle.

She nodded, a smile creeping across her face, “What else?”

“Two-Hearted and a Gin and Tonic.”

She took one of the pint glasses from the bar and stood beside him as they each poured a beer in silence. She couldn’t help but look at him. James never would have helped her at the bar, let alone made drinks. He had hated her working there at all. Tommy looked comfortable there though. They were quite the pair, and she had to admit even in just the vest and dress shirt he looked good.

The remainder of the night went on in that way, busier and busier with no real chance for it to stop. Occasionally Anna would pop down from the upstairs to grab something, or in the rare moments that it was quiet upstairs, to help them catch up. There wasn’t a moment Anna saw Charlotte not happy that night. She and Tommy were either exchanging some smirk, or laugh, or quiet moment that maybe they thought no one else would pick up on.

Tommy even kissed her at midnight, much to Charlotte’s surprise.

#tommy shelby #peaky blinders #peaky fucking blinders #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #fanfic #tommy shelby smut #eventual smut #modern day au #tommy shelby x oc #tommy x grace #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders imagine #modern

[sixtyfivehundredinvisiblebirds]

what I read in 2022

2022 We Ride Upon Sticks- Quan Barry How to Not Be Afraid of Everything- Jane Wong Today a Woman Went Mad in the Supermarket: Stories- Hilma Wolitzer The Rabbit Hutch- Tess Gunty The Daring Life and Dangerous Times of Eve Adams- Jonathan Ned Katz AND Lesbian Love- Eve Adams (in same volume) Thistlefoot- GennaRose Nethercott Bluest Nude- Ama Codjoe The Master Letters- Lucy Brock-Broido (reread) Family Lexicon- Natalia Ginzburg (tr. Jenny McPhee) The Whole Story- Ali Smith The Rupture Tense- Jenny Xie Bad Rabbi: And other strange but true stories from the Yiddish press- Eddie Portnoy A Tale for the Time Being- Ruth Ozeki Ducks: Two Years in the Oil Sands- Kate Beaton Wandering Stars- Sholem Aleichem (tr. Aliza Shevrin)   Moldy Strawberries- Caio Fernando Abreu (tr. Bruna Dantas Lobato) Sarahland- Sam Cohen Your Emergency Contact Has Experienced An Emergency- Chen Chen Elephant- Soren Stockman Craft in the Real World- Matthew Salesses Life of the Garment- Deborah Gorlin Olio- Tyehimba Jess In This Quiet Church of Night, I Say Amen- Devin Kelly The Wild Fox of Yemen- Threa Almontaser Song- Brigit Pegeen Kelly Qorbanot- Alisha Kaplan w/ art by Tobi Kahn Gold that Frames the Mirror- Brandon Melendez Foreign Bodies- Kimiko Hahn A Little Devil in America- Hanif Abdurraqib Muscle Memory- Kyle Carrero Lopez not without small joys- Emmanuel Oppong-Yeboah Too Bright To See & Alma- Linda Gregg Borne- Jeff VanderMeer Harvard Square- André Aciman What We Talk About When We Talk About Fat- Aubrey Gordon The City We Became- N.K. Jemison Twenty-Eight Artists and Two Saints- Joan Acocella Vladimir-Julia May Jonas Everyone Knows Your Mother Is a Witch- Rivka Galchen Lessons in Being Tender-Headed- Janae Johnson Against Heaven- Kemi Alabi How The Word Is Passed- Clint Smith Earth Room- Rachel Mannheimer True Biz- Sara Nović Motherhood- Sheila Heti The Fire Next Time- James Baldwin Diary of a lonely girl or the battle against free love- Miriam Karpilove tr. Jessica Kirzane Mezzanine- Matthew Olzmann Customs- Solmaz Sharif Edge of House- Dzvinia Orlowsky Only as the Day is Long: New and Selected Poems- Dorianne Laux DMZ Colony- Don Mee Choi Stay Safe- Emma Hine Spring Tides- Jacques Poulin, trn. Shira Fleishman (reread) No One Is Talking About This- Patricia Lockwood Unaccompanied- Javier Zamora Where I Was From- Joan Didion Air Raid- Polina Barskova tr. Valtzina Mort Dispatch- Cam Awkward-Rich Bury It- sam sax A Cruelty Special to Our Species- Emily Jungmin Yoon Homie- Danez Smith Dreaming of You- Melissa Lozada-Oliva

#2022 #what I read

[kirnet]

i dont think i have an actual list of the main characters of actium so here they are if you dont have the 2+ years of context lmao

Halin Aino: Main protag 1. Captain of the smuggling ship the Actium and a once influential member of the Violet Riders crime syndicate.

Millaray “Millie” Auman: Halin’s second in command and the muscle on the ship. She and Halin have been literal partners in crime since they were 14 years old.

Esther Katz: The Actium’s pilot and moral compass.

Erinle Kayoden: A biomimicry engineer who designs most of the Actium’s tech. Is engaged to Nahuel.

Lenora Basra: The young mechanic who keeps the Actium spaceworthy.

Amara Olabi: An earth born trauma surgeon and the estranged daughter of a prominent politician.

Raiden Mare: A former mercenary who joined the Actium as a sniper and all around scoundrel.

Benita: Main Protag 2. A former member of a mysterious religious order called the Themi.

Misfit: A cat rescued by Esther. Half of Katz and Cat

Shiloh Singh: The main villain who is tied to Halin’s past. A Mandate agent who is tasked with hunting the Actium down.

Chrysa Leoni: Shiloh’s partner. Formerly deployed with the Themi Dissent Unit during the Battle of Broken Hope.

Maelstrom Julia: One of the leaders of the Themi order and Benita’s mentor.

Warbird Ayla: A warrior of the Themi order and Benita’s first love.

Nahuel Auman: Millie’s younger brother and Erinle’s fiance. A cardiologist in residency at a planetside hospital.

Don Indro Gessele: Head of the Violet Riders crime syndicate the Gessele crime family. Essentially, Halin’s boss.

Khine Aino: Halin’s uncle and mentor, as well as Millie’s first commander. Don Gessele’s second in command.

Phillip Gessele: Don Gessele’s oldest and favored son. His father is currently grooming him to take his place as the head of the crime family.

Alfred Gessele: Done Gessele’s youngest and least favored son. The story opens with him in prison.

Lalita Decker: A Mandate scientist and turncoat. She is acting as a spy for the Alliance in exchange for a chance to immigrate.

Olumide Olabi: Amara’s father and a prominent magistrate.

Toyin Olabi: Amara’s stepmother.

Ife and Bose Olabi: Amara’s young twin half-sisters

Mama Auman: Millie and Nahuel’s older mother.

Shenden Aino: Halin’s mother and Khine’s sister-in-law

#these are such brief descriptions but its nice to have everyone in one place lmao #actium #ramblings #also probably a lot more will be added but this is the main roster for now #these are just the living ones too. most characters have a lot of dead people in their backstories lmao

[qupritsuvwix]

#seder dance #don byron #mickey katz #klezmer #Youtube

[kunstplaza]

[lylawrites]

Hannibal

Here you can find all my Hannibal fanfictions! (Click the title for the link)

Motinos kalba (Multi-chapter; Completed)

Summary: Five times Hannibal Lecter spoke Lithuanian on accident and one time he meant too.

Relationship(s): Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter

Darkness Within (One Shot; Completed)

Summary: Both of them have used her kindness for their own benefit. They both took advantage of her sensibility. Then they both hurt her in ways she isn’t sure she is going to get out of. And for that, she’s going to make them hurt just as much as she is. Will and Hannibal are going to pay in pain.

Relationship(s): Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Alana Bloom/Hannibal Lecter

Betrayal (One Shot; Completed)

Summary: Instead, he made sure to keep Abigail close by hoping that Hannibal wasn’t leading them to their deaths. Even if it was, it might be better than whatever Hannibal Lecter had in store for people who betrayed him.

Relationship(s): Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham & Abigail Hobbs

Polar Opposites (Multi-chapter; Completed)

Summary: What happens when an escaped convict and a tired profiler meet? Conflicted feelings and a whole ton of sass.

Relationship(s): Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter

Joke's On You (One Shot; Completed)

Summary: The teacup shattered once more. But this time instead of coming back together, the shards grew sharper.

Relationship(s): Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter

Hannibal in Group Therapy (Mult-chapter; WIP)

Summary: In which the cast of Hannibal come to our universe for some needed therapy.

Relationship(s): Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Alana Bloom/Margot Verger, Bella Crawford/Jack Crawford

The Don's Paramour (One Shot; Completed)

Summary: Will was just doing a good deed. He didn't know he'll catch the attention and attraction of the Chesapeake Mafia's leader.

Relationship(s): Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham & Beverly Katz

Take A Bite of My Heart (One Shot; Completed)

Summary: Will encounters a strange creature on his way home.

Relationship(s): Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter

Guardians (One Shot; Completed)

Summary: In a world where everyone has a shoulder Angel and Demon, Abigail Hobbs just happened to be paired with the most annoying and unusual ones.

Relationship(s): Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham & Abigail Hobbs, Hannibal Lecter & Abigail Hobbs

Beauty in the Eye of Beholder (One Shot; Completed)

Summary: Hannibal Lecter. One of the most notorious serial killers was recently caught after escaping from the Baltimore State Hospital For The Criminally Insane. Alana Bloom has been tasked with finding out what he has done during those years, as well as prying into his mind to see how he ticked. She was ready to take on this job since it would not only boost her career but help stump her curiosity about this stigma of a man.

But how does one Will Graham tie into all of this?

Relationship(s): Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Alana Bloom & Hannibal Lecter

#nbc hannibal #hannigram #will graham #hannibal lecter #hannigram fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #tv ships #tv shows #writing #lylawrites #ao3 stuff