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sonyclasica · 2 years

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HAUSER

“MY GIFT IS MY SONG”

La estrella mundial actuará en #LateShowMeMusic de The Late Show with Stephen Colbert Haz clic AQUÍ hoy a las 15:00 horas ET para ver la actuación. La gira de despedida de 2CELLOS comienza el 26 de marzo y pasará por Barcelona y Madrid: ENTRADAS AQUÍ.

Consigue el tema AQUÍ

Esta semana, 2CELLOS comenzarán la Gira Mundial Dedicated 2022. El 26 de marzo comienza en Chicago, Illinois, y las fechas se extienden hasta abril. La gira por EE. UU. incluye actuaciones en el Barclays Center de Nueva York (3 de abril) y en el legendario Hollywood Bowl de Los Ángeles (15 de abril). Conocidos por sus actuaciones llenas de energía y por sus lanzamientos de música que transgreden los géneros, 2CELLOS han llevado el instrumento a nuevas cotas, acumulando miles de millones de fans por el camino. Además de Sir Elton John, también han actuado junto a grandes de la música como Steven Tyler, Andrea Bocelli, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Queens of the Stone Age y George Michael, entre otros. Su último álbum, Dedicated, se ha publicado recientemente en edición ampliada, con tres temas extra totalmente nuevos, a través de Sony Music Masterworks, entre los que se incluyen la melancólica y hermosa "Castle on the Hill" de Ed Sheeran, la conmovedora balada "Yesterday" de The Beatles y la épica y lenta "Castle of Glass" de Linkin Park.

Para conocer todas las fechas de la gira y la información sobre la venta de entradas, haz clic AQUÍ.

Compra y escucha Dedicated (Extended Edition) de 2CELLOS AQUÍ.

Con la gira Dedicated, que marca los 10 años de carrera de los 2CELLOS, HAUSER inicia una nueva era como artista en solitario y creador de conceptos visuales. Junto con "My Gift is My Song", recientemente estrenó una nueva incorporación a su serie de "Piratas del Caribe", esta vez interpretando "He's A Pirate" con el Urban Verbunk Dance Group, acompañado de un impresionante vídeo. Los fans podrán disfrutar de más material en solitario y de emocionantes anuncios en el futuro. Mira el vídeo AQUÍ.

Permanece atento a más actualizaciones sobre HAUSER a través de hauserofficial.com.

FECHAS DE LA GIRA DEDICATED 2022 DE 2CELLOS:

26 de marzo, 2022 - Rosemont, IL, USA - Allstate Arena

28 de marzo, 2022 - Detroit, MI, USA - Little Caesars Arena

30 de marzo, 2022 - Boston, MA, USA - Agganis Arena

31 de marzo, 2022 - Uncasville, CT, USA - Mohegan Sun Arena

01 de abril, 2022 - Philadelphia, PA, USA - Wells Fargo Center

03 de abril, 2022 - Brooklyn, NY, USA - Barclays Center

05 de abril, 2022 - Fairfax, VA, USA - EagleBank Arena

06 de abril, 2022 - Durham, NC, USA - DPAC

08 de abril, 2022 - Nashville, TN, USA - Bridgestone Arena

10 de abril, 2022 - Grand Prairie, TX, USA - The Theatre at Grand Prairie

12 de abril, 2022 - Broomfield, CO, USA - 1STBANK Center

14 de abril, 2022 - Las Vegas, NV, USA - The Theater at Virgin Hotels

15 de abril, 2022 - Los Angeles, CA, USA - Hollywood Bowl

16 de abril, 2022 - Concord, CA, USA - Concord Pavilion

11 de mayo, 2022 - Budapest, HUNGRÍA - Budapest Arena

12 de mayo, 2022 - Viena, AUSTRIA - Stadthalle

13 de mayo, 2022 - Łódź , POLONIA - Atlas Arena Łódź

15 de mayo, 2022 - Múnich, ALEMANIA - Olympiahalle

16 de mayo, 2022 - Berlín, ALEMANIA - Mercedes-Benz Arena

18 de mayo, 2022 - Praga, REPÚBLICA CHECA - Prague O2 Arena

20 de mayo, 2022 - Milán, ITALIA - Mediolanum Forum Assago

23 de mayo, 2022 - Belgrado, SERBIA - Stark Arena

25 de mayo, 2022 - Ljubljana, ESLOVENIA - Arena Stozice

26 de mayo, 2022 - Ljubljana, ESLOVENIA - Arena Stozice

28 de mayo, 2022 - Ámsterdam, HOLANDA - Ziggo Dome

29 de mayo 2022 - París, FRANCIA - AccorHotels Arena

31 de mayo, 2022 - Bruselas, BÉLGICA - Paleis 12

2 de junio, 2022 - Londres, UK - SSE Wembley Arena

3 de junio, 2022 - Londres, UK - SSE Wembley Arena

15 de septiembre, 2022 - Barcelona, ESPAÑA - Palau San Jordi

17 de septiembre, 2022 - Madrid, ESPAÑA - WiZink Center

20 de septiembre, 2022 - Zagreb, CROACIA - Arena Zagreb

24 de noviembre, 2022 - Brisbane, AUSTRALIA - Brisbane Convention & Exhibition Centre

25 de noviembre, 2022 - Brisbane, AUSTRALIA - Brisbane Convention & Exhibition Centre

26 de noviembre, 2022 - Sydney, AUSTRALIA - Aware Super Theatre, ICC Sydney

29 de noviembre, 2022 - Perth, AUSTRALIA - RAC Arena

2 de diciembre, 2022 - Melbourne, AUSTRALIA - Sidney Myer Music Bowl

4 de diciembre, 2022 - Auckland, NZ - Spark Arena

Entradas ya disponibles en: 2CELLOS.COM

#hauser

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danwhobrowses · 4 years

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One Piece Chapter 992: Initial Thoughts

Late, but also early. 992 arrived delayed a day earlier than I expected for a color spread and the SJ cover. So let’s run down the chapter

Spoilers for Chapter 992, Support the Official Release

Gonna start with the SJ cover since it revealed Yamato’s color scheme. It’s actually not far from a lot of fanart I saw a while back, I think everyone was anticipating the white gradient hair. The red horns was a surprise and I kinda thought that their kimono would be Orange like Oden’s color scheme but it wasn’t unwelcome.

Then there’s also the colour spread: then crew on a train. Few small nods here and there, a blue Kaido-like dragon is on the bowl Zoro is eating from (another bowl near Chopper may have Shusui’s scabbard print), Jimbei is worryingly far away from the rest of the crew with a creepy black cat/bear thing, Usopp’s hat seems to look like it’s saying ‘KUMA’, that could hint at something and the portrait looks like a Wano building, also Luffy’s bento looks like it might be a horse print, Speed return confirmed?

Our first proper page is with Big Mom, chatting with Perospero and Marco. Sounds like BM still plans on usurping Kaido, since she’s asking for her crew’s trust in her allying with Kaido and still wanting to be Pirate King

Marco seems to have misread the situation by context too, looking like a badass mind you, he should be much more specific on who Perospero deems as a ‘demon’

I will remind everyone that the Big Ass Sword continues to be in frame like it’s just begging to be referenced at some point

There seems to be some respect between BM and Marco, even though he’s technically her enemy in this raid. Seems that the WB Remnants are simply carrying out their own will. BM got the scary face though

Carrot returns to the manga too running off on her own mission, she has her eyes set on avenging Pedro, which likely means she’s going for Perospero with Wanda. My guess is that it’ll evolve from that at some point, partly because I don’t think Carrot can beat Peros and BM and I hope she has a bigger role in the raid, fighting with a Straw Hat too because I am still Team Carrot4Nakama

We get our ONLY panel of Luffy this chapter too, he’s had a clear-ish path but seems to be setting off for the tower climb on his own. Meaning with Drake and Zoro’s Excellent Adventure, Nami and Usopp’s Jurassic Escape and Numbers with Franky we still need to see what Sanji, Chopper, Jimbei, Brook and Robin will be up to. As well as what Team Law and Team Kid are doing. And where the hell Caribou is in all this...

Looks like the ladies Sanji was searching for were in the theatre with Black Maria, who’s just chilling while her ranks are being pummeled XD I can dig that energy at least, but it does look she’s due to cross with Yamato, Momo and Shinobu

Maria’s next song about ‘enchantment’ segues back into the Kaido/Scabbards fight, with Kaido using some kind of Thunder Roar, I dunno the logic of that but I’d guess dragon stuffs

But there are some solid hits coming in, I don’t know what Kawamatsu’s one is because it seemed like it was meant to decapitate but didn’t, Inu’s leg stab was pretty hardcore though and also Kiku/Izo teamwork is welcome

The worry though is that despite this damage, Kaido is still getting up. He’s acknowledging damage but it also doesn’t seem to be enough

Raizo though, sealing the Blast Breath into a scroll to clap back at Kaido? That’s some good shit. I guess this dragon isn’t fireproof

Look at flashback Oden though, he was so excited to teach his style to his retainers

The synchronized Water Stance though as they announced Oden Nitoryu, that is the panel of the chapter for sure. It also seems that the style has something special with the Ryou that is used in it, perhaps they incorporated that into their own styles and that’s what’s hurting Kaido?

And Inu, Ashura, Denjiro and Kin’emon all do the same attack that Scarred Kaido before, in the same spot! Poetic Finish

So yeah definitely an exciting chapter, albeit a short one, very little Luffy action but the Kaido fight is showing off the Scabbards’ skills, we look to be getting some more fight setups with Yamato vs Maria and Carrot (and maybe Marco and Wanda) vs Perospero (and maybe BM) and it is worth reminding that this was not the intended chapter for the SJ cover and/or Color Spread. The gif I used does still express my thoughts, this is exciting stuff but in the long term it’s nervy. Inu and Neko have a time limit to Su Long remember, one hit threw Kawamatsu through a mountain. Kaido’s hurt but doesn’t look close to being beaten so the clock is ticking. I feel like a Scabbard death is coming and I don’t like that feeling! I continue my worry for Carrot too, I hope Oda has something up his sleeve because why pair up Peros and Marco at this point if it doesn’t influence Luffy and co in some positive manner? Maybe BM will actually hear out Carrot’s ventures and learn some things her family neglected to tell because of her hunger pangs? I dunno I worry for the Kingsbird and just really want her in the crew as the Crow’s Nest XD I’m sure we’ll get back to Luffy and co next chapter but the wait still kills, can’t Oda just sneak in a double chapter? we’ve got 8 chapters to go till 1000 so that’s still 7 chapters of building to the Big One. Hopefully there’s no break after this but we’ll see

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terrorhqs · 4 years

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𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄; 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

you find yourself wandering to the clairvoyant’s tent as the night winds down. the seer is cloaked by darkness, by shadow, and they do little to beckon you forth as you sit. distantly, you hear the raucous laughter as a sovereign of fools is crowned in the theatre. brittle whispers from the clairvoyant before you steal your attention, and you turn your gaze forward to fix on the tarot cards laid out, onto the slender fingers splayed on top.

“how’s this all work then?” you start, chuckling nervously. “shall i pick one?” you’ve never had a tarot reading before. at home, you were fraught with nerves, fearful of what you may find in a dark parlor holding hands with tittering strangers. this feels different, somehow, as if anything that can be gleaned can be chalked up to a drunken dream - a mirage in the north.

you start to reach - a raspy voice stops you. it’s the clairvoyant’s voice, yes, but something is... strange. a tinny, echoing quality, lilting, as if his voice is experimenting with itself.

“what are you? by god, mercy,” he rasps.

“what?”

“men! help! agathe!” wailing and rasping. “it is swift!”

you stumble back, chair falling, just as darkness descends upon the entire carnivale. in an instant, a gust of infernal wind blows all the blazing torches out. there is but black and the light of the moon - and even this is meager guidance, half-hidden by pale, mordant clouds, veiled in a fog’s film.

when you look back, the figure is gone. the clairvoyant enters not a half-moment later, frantic to gather his paraphernalia and move on, ignoring your dazed befuddlement.

sailors are notorious for their superstitions, but the wardroom officers are quick to try and quell the hushed murmuring. what kind of northern wind kills the light of dozens of torches blazing unbidden all night?

“it is only the weather, sailors.” booms the captain from the theatre stage, naught but a silhouette, the cadence of his voice unhurried as it carries through the city of tents. “allow your eyes to adjust to the dark, follow the light of the moon out, calmly, and get to the ship. nothing to fear but the bottle-ache come morn. those able to escort the guests ought to.”

the orders are clear, and everyone shifts to begin shuffling out - until a cry rings out. one of the ship’s caulkers points to the caribou head mounted upon the wall, a prize from an earlier hunt. “i saw it blink! the head! i swear it!”

“do you dare incite hysteria? get ahold of yourself.” the captain calls, the promise of repercussion coloring his voice.

behind him, past the canvas, a shadow lurks in the moonlight. the silhouette is that of a man, perhaps a member of the crew listening in, still and silent and largely unacknowledged. then, it shifts. it morphs, growing in size, growing into something not human nor animal, its maw dwarfing the makeshift theatre. those facing the officers erupt into gasps and panicked yelling - to grab the guns, to get back onto the ship, towards shelter. but even those willing to face the beast, those who run out and round the tent to confront it - all they are met with is the chill, and footprints where it once stood.

elsewhere, there is chaos.

THE MARKED, lingering in the theatre when pandemonium strikes, spots what appears to be an apparition manifesting on stage in wisps and blurs. they cannot comprehend where its limbs begin and where the shadows end: it seems to melt inside them. it points, mouthing silently. THE HARUSPEX finds them in a state of terror, transfixed - looks towards the stage, and sees nothing. it is time to leave.

THE LOVER searches for her partner in the chaos, but runs into THE IDOL, who is struck by shock for reasons unknown and refuses to move even as they are pushed by the crowd. They keep whispering a name, like a prayer or mantra, one THE LOVER would have remembered in normal circumstances as being akin to the DEVOTED’s surname. THE LOVER is left little choice but to attempt to rouse them from their stupor.

THE INTREPID is among the first to guide the crew back to the ship, but in the disarray, is accidentally jostled as they near the docks, loses their balance, and falls into the shallow water that has grown colder in the night. THE SOCIALITE, mercifully, is nearby and notices, and is quick to pull them out and usher them to the warmth of the ship. each moment is critical.

THE ENIGMA, never without their arms, glimpses an amorphous shadow grow longer, taller, from inside the Hall of Games. Without wasting a crucial delay, an expert dancer on the floor between life and death, they take aim and fire through the canvas - only to receive a very human yell in response. on the other side of the tent, THE DEVOTED has only just been grazed by the bullet - but the wound, while shallow, flows.

The CAPTAIN has led the band of running people over onto the beach, only to find a stray outline dotting the shore - THE SCION. They have known each other well enough, but this is the first time they meet without the gild of their family status or an admiralty gala. It takes a moment to start speaking - but as they do, they notice something eerie. The sea, which had been a steady droning throughout their nights and days, falls quiet. From the water, a guttural, animal voice begins to shout.

Among all the supply crates unloaded off the ship, there is also THE PURSER’S ledger that found its way among the paraphernalia. They left in search of it shortly after the crowning of the topsy-turvy sovereign, and are in no small measure taken aback to see THE EMPRESARIO labouring over it in the dying lights. The candle in their hand barely illuminates their face. But when THE PURSER starts shouting for an explanation, the candle garners a life of its own - it flares in a white blaze before consuming itself in a fire, scalding flesh and paper alike.

THE GODKILLER, having accumulated their trove of stolen trinkets and treasures throughout the evening, stands apart from the crowd to assess their prizes - only to find they’ve gone missing. Did someone steal them back? Does someone know what they’ve done? THE DOE-HEARTED, calling for their uncle, runs into THE GODKILLER sifting through the dirt and rocks - only to see the massive shadow from earlier pass through the tents.

THE COMMANDER was still hacking away at the dregs of his dinner, sitting opposite from THE SHADOW. When the pandemonium begins, both heads turn with precision - only to see that their hands are coated in something treacle-red. Like molasses, it covers the plate and mess-table, stretching over and under their nails. Instead of sea-biscuits, the plates now hold raw, pink flesh. The SHADOW stares unblinking - his eyes seem to say: Do you see it too? The COMMANDER has no answer; they no longer know what’s there and what isn’t.

THE VETERAN is quick to prepare the ship, though some unease nags her, begging for attention. The realization brings a sharp sickness to stomachs - the ocean is silent. The waves below them still moves, but no sound can be heard, the stillness jarring. When she turns to THE NOBLE to confirm the silence, the girl is found glassy-eyed staring into the open sea through the won telescope, shaking. Any attempt at reaching THE NOBLE through her stupor is unsuccessful. When the girl finally returns in spirit, she cannot recall how or when she returned to the ship. The ocean is roaring.

THE CHRONICLER and THE CLAIRVOYANT are stumbling as they return to the ship, clinging fingers suddenly wrenched apart following a sharp yelp. Among them, a sizzling sound beings to pick up, then whimpering. They watch as angry burns swirl into runes pressed onto the seer’s skin, unseen fires melting wide paths from the boy before stopping right before the girl’s skirts, now-thawed ice leaving the water pooling THE CHRONICLER red-tinted and too viscous.

THE CHAPLAIN had accompanied THE WILDCARD in the maze of wonders shortly before everything precipitated. As they’re sat there mulling over Shakespeare’s dreams and nightmares, a very real terror materializes - with a smell of sulfur and a sputtering of electricity, the projector goes out. The band snaps clean in two. It should be over, but for several seconds, the images continue to move on the paper-wall, shapes deformed and liminal. Both priest and soldier can only gape as they struggle to make sense of it.

THE DOCTOR and THE ROMANTIC, in the meantime, have ventured to climb one of the tamer bergs. Atop, they can marvel at the vast expanse of the bay and the sea beyond - perhaps they can even glimpse their trajectory ahead. But further ahead, they see something - a ship parallel of the Promethean, from their perch, they can make out its name: Agathe. They see no lights onboard, hear no distant yelling - no signs of life. They refuse to blink, watching the ship disappear into encroaching fog.

The SONGBIRD has stumbled upon THE STOWAWAY, miles away from the rest of the revelry folk. when the murmur begins - at first they think it is the gravel shifting under a man’s boot. but then sounds begin to form: Hjælp os. Vis dit ansigt. Spoken over and over again. THE SONGBIRD, rendered desperate and death-white, begs the translator to explain what it means. No answer comes. The murmur doesn’t stop.

after a long and harrowing night, morning comes as if nothing was ever amiss. carnivale is as the crew left it the evening before - without its grotesque aberrations. the caribou head remains still, the projector has stopped, no shadows lurk in the canvas - only tents to be broken down and debris cleaned up remain. with little evidence of whatever machinations were at play the evening before, save for whispers and memory, there is still a voyage ahead. there are preparations to be done. there are new terrors to face.

therein lies our first plot drop, players! you’ll notice we have paired prompts, and we can’t WAIT to see how these play out on the dash! keep in mind that you are, of course, welcome to write interactions not outlined by the plot drop.

the timeline spans from midnight of the night of the carnivale to the end of the week, just before they set sail for the passage. you may write out events of the evening, where everything has boiled unto a point of chaos, or the morning after, or any of the days still left in their layover on land. in this time, the people of the Promethean may hunt for fresh meat and fish, attempt to accompany the icemasters in climbing the surrounding icebergs, explore the little town of godhvn, or study the natural flora and fauna.

#thqevent

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aemperatrix · 4 years

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Keats Is Coughing

by Marianne Boruch

Everything is made of everything. — Leonardo da Vinci

I found Rome in the woods.

Fair to admit it’s mostly tundra to the west in the park, past Toklat the Denali I revised, low grasslands engineered to freeze deep by October — this being Alaska — the great

Tabularium close to the Temple of Castor and Pollux I rebuilt that same summer — not superimposed, exact as any scheme

in secret — the Arch of Septimius Severus at the gravel bar where fox drank from a river turned stream, a Theater of Marcellus near the ranger station where one raven, such a brat, complained of my Circus Maximus, Trajan’s Column, my Baths of Diocletian, too many spots soaked in unpronounceable Latin.

I really did, I shouldered bits of it, a ruin-hushed haunted business, my brain a truck bed, a lift, pulleys big as a whale’s heart, expletives of cheap wonder all over my woodlot and expanse. One self-anoints to embellish day, years, life thus far, and think oneself so...

Then busted —

by a raven!

Well, that’s memory for you, that’s so-called civilization for you, to layer up, to redo the already done.

I mean it’s a fact, the puny life span we’re allotted. And proof — Denali in August, fireweed, spunky scrawny first Latinate — Erechtites hieracifolia —

giving off flowers to mark what weeks left, little time bomber, time traveler, ancient slips red-flagging the countdown to winter by climbing its own stalk.

Something perverse about that. Something perfectly fiendishly self-conscious about that.

•

From the start perverse, any premise. Ask...We can’t know. To be compelled

makes an occasion. Rome’s grand past horrific, fire and ash, swamp into bog, lust and bloodlust —

The Alaska Range dreams lurid as Rome, the worst way below being fire, summer snow at night off the highest peaks by noon as distant from our cabin as the size of a hand if I held up the one with an eye in the middle

to know how this works. Some have the power to raise from the dead a before, before scary and beautiful back to mystery cults, in caves, rubble far under a Roman street, the altar to Mithras still slaying his bull, crumbling the stonework.

All things being equal. But they’re not. Agony, it’s older. Ask the moose at Denali, the snowshoe hare, the lynx,

such a wily courtly lot. Ask Ovid banished to his hovel on the Black Sea, aching for Rome’s exalted rude cacophony, each exiled month a big thick X down

Februarius, Aprilis to home-shattered sick enough

for an undersong. Look it up! Undersong: a strain; a droning; the burden of a song — Maybe that lowest common denominator is contagious. Rome or Denali, a mash-up of lunge and cry out, predator and prey throwing coins to a fountain, footholds made first by a hoof, pickpockets at buses and trains, nuns queuing up their no-nonsense, thorny brambles, raggedy spruce groves, a look, a nod to sell loveless love on the street, a chain of mountains in choral repeat, saints stained to glass, how ice gouged rivers from rock-bound, the one-lung rapturous common-sense Pope all outstretched arms, his little popemobile circling the thrilled at St. Peter’s up on our rickety chairs to see in six, seven languages how radiant — Cross my heart, he was. And Keats, Keats is coughing.

•

You find the fossil record everywhere. In woods, tundra, under streets, in cadaver labs. Not those bright transparencies, wistful orderly page after page in biology, a lie, a kind of flip-book romance. It’s the one big mess of us in us, the generous extraordinary dead prove that, signing a paper, giving themselves away to be cut, disembodied for the knowing it, sunk to their chemical depth in some afterlife, opened on a table by kids really, belabored doctors-to-be, our shabby shared wilderness to untangle, bones joints arteries valves, The Dissector in hand, weirdest how-to book on the planet. For Keats too, 1819, his scribbled roses and sunflowers in margins, his training, his anatomy theatre, looking down and later: still London, then Rome (he who gets it, body fails, second floor, beside the Spanish Steps). Heart, not my heart anymore. Forgive me. I’m worse than the hopelessly confused misnamed English sparrow, descendant of the great weaver birds of Africa, a finch that lost the gene

for nest, how to beneath, to across so intricate, precise, bringing bringing sticks and hair and bits of shiny paper. Undersong: the burden of a song. Poor bird. Poor sweet muddled middle of it. I watched morning after morning, his offering... It’s Keats who made claims about beauty and time. His bed at the last too low for the window, his must-have tell me, what’s out there —

I admit: a ridiculous layering, Rome in Denali. Just because? Because I went to both in short order? Two continents, an ocean apart. My mother loved hand-me-down expressions — never the twain shall meet. They do meet. To repeat: that’s civilization for you. Happenstance and right now drag along future and past and why the hell not the Denali, the Rome in any of us, no two states of being more unalike, worn-out compulsion to collect and harbor, piece together, stupid into some remember machine.

Such fabulous unthinkable inventions we’ve made to merge or unmake: the trash compactor, the poem, all tragedy and story, pencils sharpened to

a point that keeps breaking, wilderness gone inward as

an ocean-going ship’s container, a Gatling gun, the AR-15 of the seething deranged, the H-bomb, Roman legions to Canterbury to blood-up fields into legend then dig the first plumbing but

how can you be in two places at once when you’re not anywhere at all!

(Thank you, Firesign Theatre, brilliant wackos, old vinyl on a turntable still in the game... )

Fine. Fuck it. Start over.

•

See the sheep on high ledges, the arctic squirrels below.

See the way Dante saw, sweeping his arm across Vasari’s great painting as Boccaccio looks off, the plague sealing city after city. Dante

in hell, steady-luminous those fact-finding trips to service his worldly Inferno.

Winter sleeps through. August at Denali, bears shovel it down a razor-edged maw — twigs! berries! more stems! — Fate hoards to prepare, sub-zeros, fattens into...

See the park’s camper bus, 92 miles how most of us jolt and slow, crossing hours more daylight than night all summer, rattling tin can with its exhaust and hissing gravel, the fear landslide an undersong just-possible, how we zigzag a mountain. Look!

Nearing a bear, the young caribou abruptly hesitant, shy as a leaf —

No! Don’t! Do not! That grizzly huge, bent to his ploy just these berries around here, his ignore ignore, sure, quiet-tense as a trigger, and we of fogged scratched windows so hard to open —

stop! The bus stopped. Jesus. The thing curious, closer... They’re not

that smart anyhow, a stage-whispering drunk from the back of our imperial realm, mile 62, the Park Road.

What did Venus decree in her temple up whichever narrow street in Rome, the Ancients’ stink of slops, standing water, a bear chained to a slave (out of slav, by the way, backdrop is horde, human spoils)

both shackled to a grindstone for a later mob and roar.

Here’s what we saw: the little caribou in reverse wanders sideways and safe. Our bus one big sigh or like a wheezing asthmatic the brakes unbrake.

Bad dream, bad dream, the undersong start to all fable if for real we’d seen that kill back to lions off their continent cornered, bloodied in the great amphitheaters, rearing up, a nail to hammer’s bite and blow. The wilderness in us

is endless. Near the cabin, near evening, a warbler in the fireweed hawk saw or heard, his switchblade clicked to — I was and I was whirling feathers, either bird — Every hunger is first century. Forever-thus feral cats at the Forum about to leap too. The Forum, last homage I shoveled holes and rocks to remake, mile 82, while the haymouse riddled the meadow down deep, her catacombs.

•

Time + beauty = ruins. Perfect shapes in the mind meet my friends Pointless and Threat and Years of Failure to Meld or Put to Rest. Ruthless is human.

I ask a composer: How to live with this undersong thing over and over, how to

get rid of it, the world of it —

He looks at me. What undersong thing? And shrugs I’ll put it on the test! Let students define it.

So I dreamt such a test: Go there. To Rome. Half-doze against a wall two thousand years of

flesh sweat insect wing ago, stone laid by hand, by a boy when a whip, a whip, a welling up, his will not speak.

Have at it. Please explain. Please fill in this blank.

Grief punctures like ice, moves like a glacier to flat and slog and myth, low blue and white flowers we hiked trail-less. The rangers insist. They insist —

never follow or lead, never lay down a path.

From above the look of us spread out, our seven or eight a band, little stray exhausted figures as over the land bridge from Asia,

circa: prehistory keeps coming, older than Rome, both both underfoot, understory, underway

miles below numb, it’s burning.

•

To see at all, you time and this time and time again.

The spirit leans intrigued, the other part bored, then there’s want, then there’s wait.

Once a city began with a wolf whose two human pups would build, would watch it fall, nursing at her milk for centuries in marble in bronze.

She stands there and cries of that pleasure, by turns a blood-chill. The tundra. At night.

A snake eats its own tail, forever at it on a fresco. A real snake leaves his skin near the gravel bar. Some words sting, some are sung. Another life isn’t smaller.

#marianne boruch #poetry #keats is coughing #poem #cuvinte potrivite #i need to lie down. i. i—#long post

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sexypinkon · 1 year

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Sexypink - Carnival 2023 - Revel in the ritual of carnival with Krisson “Seraphim” Joseph at his calypso extravaganza, “In Defence of Carnival” right here at the Little Carib Theatre And Folk House. 75 years and going strong!Date: Sat 28th Jan 2023Time: 6:00pm - 8:00pmCost: $200Call 622-4644 for reservations or more info.Also streaming at https://wack.tv/.../in-defence-of-carnival-revel-in-the...Caribbean Griot Music Ministry of Tourism, Culture and the Arts Trinidad & Tobago National Carnival Commission of Trinidad and Tobago- NCC

#sexypink/Krisson Joseph #sexypink/The Little Carib Theatre #Caribbean Griot #Krisson Joseph #Seraphim #tumblr/Krisson Seraphim Joseph #tumblr/calypso extravaganza #tumblr/In defence of Carnival #In Defence of Carnival #Carnival presentations

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belladonnablake · 5 years

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All odd numbers 🖤

1: Golden mornings or peachy sunsets?: boston summer sunsets are always peachy but there’s something about the morning sky after it snows that is just as good? sunsets for summer and mornings for winter3: Do you wear scarves often? do you have a favorite?: i’d like to wear scarves more often than i do but i don’t know what to do with the back of my hair when i do? so maybe i will more often once it’s styled if i ever go to a hairdresser before the next time i die? but i do have a fave! i bought myself a tottenham hotspur scarf in the north end more than a few years ago and i’ll. try to take pictures of myself wearing it. i’ll try to take pictures of myself this year because i didn’t last year lol5: Is there a food you’ve never had but always wanted to try?: there’s a lot of things but i can’t think of too many right now! a lot of it is regional food you can’t find in new england or you can but you have to go out of your way. i’ve tried both rabbit and gator in the past couple years and i want to try more meats. caribou would be nice too. this is one of those questions i could talk forever without ever answering it completely so i’ll cut it here you’re welcome7: Do you listen to ASMR?: not too often but i’ll listen to rain or like moving water in general when i write on occasion, otherwise the music i’m listening to influences the music i’m writing. but nothing more than that9: What’s a little thing in life that you love?: i answered this but because it’s a question that can be answered more than once so i’m gonna do that. i love winter jack jack daniels. it’s like apple whiskey. i love my new pink and green joycons and i love the green and pink colour scheme in general. i love my new hoodies too. one is a powell peralta hoodie with a small logo on the front and big on the back, of the bones skeleton with the red hood. and the other is a thrasher hoodie with green font and a pink jellyfish11: Wobbly lines or using a ruler?: my hands are shaky and have always been shaky so my straight lines, they’re straighter than i am but they’re still bad. i don’t even think i own a ruler but if i were going to draw a straight line i’m going to need one lol13: Do you have any candles? what scents are they?: one of them is apple something and the other two are sparkling icicles and sweater weather which like. i don’t know how to describe either but it’s not the same as lighting a sweater on fire or sticking an icicle up your nose15: Do you have glasses?: another one where i’ll try to take pics for later but i have green aviators, red aviators, and purple aviators. all sunglasses off of rainbowoptx dot com17: What’s your favorite season and favorite month in that season?: winter autumn tie but my fave months are october, november, and december, and all but ten days of that are in autumn? 19: Favorite Ghibli and/or disney movie: it’s been years since i’ve seen either so forgive me if my memory fails me but i remember princess mononoke, kiki’s delivery service, and spirited away the most out of all of either ghibli or disney? and i should probably rewatch them soon as well as the others to see if that still stands21: What snacks do you usually get at the theater?: i don’t think i’ve ever actually gotten snacks at the theatre? i haven’t been in years, but there are a few things either out or coming out that look like they’d be worth going even if the concept of theatres is something that i don’t really understand? ...i’m thinkin bout once upon a time in hollywood baby! the best candy for theatres is reeses pieces and like any of the bites candy? cookie dough bites etc23: Would you fill your house with plants if you had a green thumb?: i keep my liquor bottles around to use them as vases tbh. there really isn’t a place for plants in our apartment, or maybe there is and i haven’t found it25: Do you have a favorite type of art style? (eg: soft looking, no to little color, sketches, crisp and clean, minimalist, pixel art etc.): my style varies all the time and i try to do all of the above, i’m very inconsistent myself. but i’m very fond of 3D modeling atm!27: Do you like nicknames?: i like nicknames if i like the person using them? i’m a person with a lot of names because i’m a dumb kinnie and hate using one name exclusively and i guess all my names are nicknames but like. i don’t like how nicknames for most people are shortened names or how they think shorter names are nicknames for a longer name idk like i’ve got a cousin named liam, that’s not his nickname. his legal name might be william but that’s not his name. his nicknames have nothing to do with that. and like there’s nothing wrong with nicknames that are shortened versions of a name but i hate how that’s what most people think of them as29: Do you still like old memes? (tell the truth): i don’t like how meme formats are the same and the reaction image changes. i like reaction images but i don’t like how some of them become memes and then it changes to a different image for the same format. i like the new wave of doge memes and i still like pepe and i love how stupid dat boi was 31: Are you a fashionable person?: i’m a crusty folk punk that wears the same flannel every day but doesn’t know how to make crust pants33: Cookies or brownies?: i don’t love either and would rather just eat raw cookie dough. i think there is such a thing as too much chocolate and brownies do have too much and cookies are often borderline but i do like a baller macaron or cheesecake cookie35: Do you find the crickets chirping outside your window relaxing?: i live in a city so... replace crickets with drunks screaming anything from the lyrics to everlong to i need you! we need you! we need you! we need you! we need you! fucking idiot! i don’t have further context for either but ya that’s relaxing to me37: How often do you doodle?: not as often as i should because of the perfectionism thing giving me this fear of practice? i blame public school for killing off as many artists as they can tbh39: What’s your favorite random piece of decor in your house and room?: mr. durdam... he is a hollow plastic penguin around kneehigh next to the tv stand / amiibo shelves. we also hung waluigi from the ceiling for a while.41: Any birthmarks?: i got two dots on my wrist, one larger one smaller. looks like an exclamation point !43: First video game you ever played?: it was either one of the early zelda games or one of the ps1 games? i was too young to form memories but i know it was one of the two. i know i played arcade games at some arcade on hampton beach when i was that young too. qbert that orange FUCK45: Do you use gifs/ memes a lot when replying to people?: i’m trying to get better at remembering to save reaction images and remembering to use them. i don’t even know how people use the gifs when replying to people because i was stuck with a phone that couldn’t update its operating system for years and now i have a new phone with an up to date operating system and i’m still figuring things out47: Ideal temperature outside?: so it’s either gonna be below freezing so it’s able to snow or like... around 50 or below and literally feels like nothing at all. because i hate when it’s too hot to wear beanies. i like when it’s cold and i like when it’s not hot or cold. but i hate hot49: How often do you hear airplanes outside?: if i were to go outside and lie down on my back i could watch airplanes all day long. it’s a little different than being on castle island but it’s still close enough to logan to where planes are near constant but not too loud. i hear the train every ten minutes too. and the cars are always

#love you <3 #icyhot-ingenium

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izatrini · 2 years

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Shadow to be remembered at Little Carib Theatre - TT Newsday http://dlvr.it/STwhvY

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marklyndersay · 5 years

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I met Godfrey Sealy early in my late 1970s introduction to Trinidad theatre. Specifically on Helen Camps' Christmas pantomime, Cinderama. I was taking some of my earliest photos of local theatre and Godfrey was making his earliest impact on the TT stage. That Christmas at a celebratory party at Camps' home, Godfrey would run up to me and peck me on the cheek. That impulsive streak would be a hallmark of his life, even when everything turned dark and difficult for him. A year later, we'd end up in the box office of the Little Carib Theatre trading lines to put words to an archly martial melody written by Roger Israel for Sno Kone and the Seven Douens. It was a show workshopped out a script for a musical I'd written and presented to Helen Camps. By the time it was produced, very little of that script was left except for the name and its bleak story arc, forever ending my dream of becoming the next Tim Rice. But I got to this moment after a harassed and somewhat overwhelmed Israel agreed to let us have as shot at as opening night steadily approached. The song became part of the show, which did not do well. Too dark for a Christmas show, I expect. This photo, done for the largely forgotten Roll Call in 1987 was the promotional image of the writer-director of the show, a wildly uneven reimagining of West Side Story in a Senior Secondary school. Sealy's next work, One of our sons is missing was his most memorable work, drawn starkly from his experiences after being diagnosed as HIV Positive. The play remains the single most potent work of fiction created at that time locally to address the local impact of what would eventually be understood to be an epidemic. From there, the dramatist wrote his life as a performance piece, at a time when few understood the virus and many of those who did preferred not to engage with it at all. By 2001, he gave up his AIDS awareness work in T&T. He would eventually return in 2004 and passed away in April, 2006 #archive #lyndersaydigital #trinidad #writer #actor #theatre #trinidadandtobago #filmphotography #director #hiv #thelyndersayarchive (at Port of Spain) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bz6gBvVgdVz/?igshid=1uy1epwkvqhoz

#archive #lyndersaydigital #trinidad #writer #actor #theatre #trinidadandtobago #filmphotography #director #hiv #thelyndersayarchive

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