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chrancecriber · 1 year

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Radio NET Bulgaria (December 15, 2022)

23:56 RHYTHM JETS - This Christmas 23:52 ELAN TROTMAN - West Coastin' (feat. The Regiment Horns) 23:48 REZA KHAN, NILS - Drop of faith 23:43 BUTCH, RHONDA COLEMAN - Bean's Groove 23:40 CHRIS GODBER - Courageous 23:35 OLI SILK - Just Can't Resist 23:31 HOPE DIAMOND - Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas 23:25 KIM SCOTT - What You Stank About This 23:21 GREGG KARUKAS - London Underground 23:16 EUGE GROOVE - The Last Song 23:12 KEN NAVARRO - Summer Smiles 23:08 KIM WATERS - Christmas Day 23:04 KONSTANTIN KLASHTORNI - Stay Romantic 23:00 PETER WHITE - Festival 22:59 SHAUN ESCOFFERY - Into the Blue (Mark de Clive-Lowe Mix) 22:50 MARIO BASANOV VIDIS, JAZZU - Give It A Try 22:46 ANDAIN - Beautiful Things (Andain Piano Version) 22:41 GROOVE THIEVERY - Killer 22:37 HOKKAIDO, DEBBIE DIGITAL - Sigh For The Beauty (El Gambrero Remix) 22:31 VLAD ZHUKOV - Nothing (W&D Chill Out Vocal Mix) 22:25 ALBERT ST. BARTH - Balearic Treasure 22:20 351 LAKE SHORE DRIVE - Summernights 22:17 KIDNAP, LEO STANNARD - Grow (Submotion Orchestra Remix) 22:13 TOKYO COUNTERPOINT - To The Sky (Lemongrass Free Bird Remix) 22:08 JOSEPHINE SINCLAR - My Private Island 22:03 EMILIA DE PORET - Weightless (Chillout Mix) 22:00 SEAL - Ooh Baby Baby 21:57 SUSANA, TENISHIA - Never Let You Down (Chill Out Mix) 21:52 ANURAG NANDVANSHI - Soul of India (Chill Out) 21:47 LITE ELECTRONIC, THREE FACES, AMY K - Firefly (Seven24 & S.A.T Chillout Remix) 21:42 THE DO - Too Insistent (Trentemoller Remix) 21:37 BLANK & JONES - Coming Home (Afterlife Mix) 21:34 COSMIC GATE, EMMA HEWITT - Be Your Sound (Live Acoustic Version) 21:30 VINTAGE - Eva (Roman B & Vova Baggage Slow Mix) 21:24 JULIAN VINCENT, CATHY BURTON - Certainty (Andy Prinz Chillout Mix) 21:20 MIRAGE OF DEEP, JOHANNES HUPPERTZ - Yesterdays 21:17 INGO HERRMANN - Cumulus 21:14 MOTIF, LENA BELGART - Halo (Original Mix) 21:08 LOUNGE DELUXE - Beautiful Man feat. Jeela (Sunset Session Edit) 21:03 TENISHIA, TIFF LACEY - Burning From The Inside (Tenishia Frozen Mix) 20:59 MANDEL TURNER - Come Into My Life 20:56 DEEP'N PURE, RADBOY - R We Ever Gonna Be (Original Mix) 20:52 UNCLUBBED, JUSTINE SUISSA - Missing 20:46 LAZY HAMMOCK - You Light My Mind 20:42 BLANK & JONES, DELERIUM, RANI - Fallen (Chillout Mix) 20:39 SEPTEMBER - Cry For You (Candlelight Remix) 20:35 JULIAN VINCENT, SHANNON HURLEY - Lost In Space (Lovers & Poets Remix) 20:32 METAHARMONIKS - Doors 20:26 ASTRID SURYANTO - Distant Bar (Original Mix) 20:22 ANDY MOOR, SUE McLAREN - Fight The Fire (Masoud Chillout Mix) 20:17 PIXALEND - Maritime Sadness 20:13 HIATUS & SHURA - Fortune's Fool 20:10 RAZ NITZAN, MARIA NAYLER - Echo Of My Soul (Chill Out Mix) 20:02 BANCO DE GAIA - Tempra (Original Mix) 19:58 CAPA - Julian 19:54 ROMA BABANOV - Flight 19:51 HEADSTRONG, HELENA WARD - Broken Ice (Acoustic & Strings Chillout Mix) 19:44 KIRSTY HAWKSHAW, TENISHIA - Invisible (Kopi Luwka Mix) 19:38 TWENTYEIGHT - Monday Night 19:32 SOARSWEEP - Losing Rays (Original Mix) 19:28 TIESTO FEAT. JES - Everything (Acoustic) 19:24 EXIMINDS, AELYN - I Feel You (Chillout Version) 19:22 ORJAN NILSEN - Drink To Forget (Original Chill Out Mix) 19:15 THE SHAPESHIFTERS - Lola's Theme (Lola's Loungin' Mix) 19:10 INDIGO SUN - You Don't Fool Me (Tango Cafe Mix) 19:04 LEMONGRASS - Ocean Kisses (Original Mix) 19:00 ENIGMA, SARAH BRIGHTMAN - La Mer 18:55 FRED HYAS - Meet Dawn (Rework) 18:51 CHRIS REECE - Overflow 18:46 BARCLAY & CREAM - You're Not Alone (Alexander Metzger Mix) 18:40 LA CAINA - I Gotta Know Now 18:35 SCHILLER, KATE HAVNEVIK - Don't Go 18:30 MICHAEL E - Promise 18:26 ARTENOVUM - When You Fall Asleep (Slow Coach Mix) 18:21 DELERIUM, SARAH McLACHLAN - Silence (Acoustic Mix) 18:16 NITIN SAWHNEY - Breathing Light 18:11 KENNY FONTANA - U R The Sun (Toni Rivera Mix) 18:07 LUSTRAL - I Wonder Where You Are (Original Mix) 18:03 DUB MARS - Slow Witted 17:58 RICHARD DURAND - Wide Awake (Zetandel Chill Remix) 17:54 SYLVERING - Just An Illusion 17:49 REY SALINERO - Total Delight 17:43 RAYAN MYERS - Pleasant Calmness (Original Mix) 17:39 LP - Lost On You (Elk Road Remix) 17:36 ATB PRESENTS FLANDERS - Behind (ATB's Ambient Version) 17:30 LIFE AUDIENCE - Vanilla 17:28 HARDWELL, COLLIN McLOUGHLIN - Call Me A Spaceman (Unplugged Version) 17:24 SUNLESS - Love A Touch (K.S. Project Remix) 17:20 ZETANDEL - Glowing Spots (Original Mix) 17:16 ROMAN MESSER, ROBIN VANE - Someday (Paul Echo Chillout Remix) 17:12 JAY SEAN - Maybe (The Xtreme Chillout Remix) 17:07 ALY, FILA, TIFF LACEY - Paradise (Original Mix) 17:03 FABERLIQUE, SYNTHETICSAX, K.S.PROJECT - Fantasy 17:00 SAGI REI - Rhythm Is A Dancer (Verano Chill Out Mix) 16:55 VINCENT INGALA - Night Flight 16:51 KIM WATERS - Heart Seeker 16:46 BRIAN BROMBERG - Saul Goode 16:42 RHYTHM JETS - We Wish You a Merry Christmas 16:38 NILS - In The Moment 16:32 JOEL DEL ROSARIO - Coastside 16:29 NICK DUKAS - This Is Christmas 16:24 MARCUS JOHNSON - New Beginnings 16:19 NAJEE - Trip To The Moon 16:16 PAUL TUVMAN - For No One 16:12 DAVE BRADSHAW JR. - Jumpstep 16:09 CHRISTMAS CAROLS - Oh Tannenbaum 16:05 EUGE GROOVE - Sunday Morning 16:00 PEET PROJECT - Overseas 15:56 JAREZ - Love Like This 15:52 PAUL DOZIER - All My Love for You 15:48 JESSY J - Tequila Moon 15:43 DANIEL D. - Jingle Bell Groove 15:38 ANDY SNITZER - September '79 15:33 KONSTANTIN KLASHTORNI - Emotion 15:28 DAVID GARFIELD - The Christmas Song 15:24 WILL SUMNER - Jolon Road 15:19 GREGG KARUKAS - Too Cool (To Be Hot) 15:14 PATRICK BRADLEY - Can You Hear Me (feat. Dave Koz) 15:10 PHILLIP DOC MARTIN - Marvelous 15:08 HERB ALPERT - Silent Night 15:04 BRIAN SIMPSON, STEVE OLIVER - Celestial Body 15:00 ESTYLE - Keep It Simple (feat. Magdalena Chovancova, Robert Fertl & Damon Dae) 14:56 DAMIEN ESCOBAR - Awaken 14:52 KIM WATERS - Deep In Love 14:47 MARCUS JOHNSON - Just Doing What I Do 14:44 ANDRE DELANO - Bring a Torch Jeanette, Isabella 14:40 LASHAWN D. GARY - Transitions 14:36 KEN NAVARRO - No Other Way 14:32 BEN TANKARD - Angels We Have Heard On High 14:28 PAUL BROWN - Just Chillin' 14:24 NELSON RANGELL - Scenario 14:20 CHRIS GODBER - Living Water (feat. Bob Baldwin) 14:14 JOYCE COOLING - Mildred's Attraction 14:04 ROCCO VENTRELLA - Alleria 14:00 DEON YATES - The Night 13:55 PIECES OF A DREAM - For Real 13:50 NATE WHITE - Kupenda 13:46 MARCUS JOHNSON - Side Steppin 13:42 JUSTIN YOUNG - Sleight Ride 13:38 BRETTINA - Simple Pleasures 13:33 VANN BURCHFIELD - Through the Fire 13:30 DAVE KOZ - Another Silent Night (feat. Richard Marx) 13:25 AVENUE BLUE - Seventh Heaven (feat. Jeff Golub) 13:21 JEFFERY SMITH - Natural High 2020 13:17 PAUL HARDCASTLE - Dancing Galaxies 13:13 FREDDIE FOX - Strawberry 13:07 DAVID PETROSYAN - Christmas Eve 13:04 FUNKTASTIC PLAYERS - Glad I Met You Tonight 13:00 NILS - I Like the Way You Do It 12:56 VINCENT INGALA - Let's Go Back 12:52 RHYTHM LOGIC - Full Speed 12:47 REGGIE CORDINGTON - Through It All 12:42 JIM ADKINS - See the Light 12:39 SMOOTH SOUL HOLIDAY - Jolly Old St. Nicholas 12:34 TONY SAUNDERS - Summertime Love 12:31 BRANDON WILLIS - Fire It Up 12:28 JAY PATTEN - Special Kind of Christmas (w. Crystal, Gayle) 12:24 THREESTYLE - SteppinÂ'up (feat. Magdalena Chovancova & Robert Fertl) 12:20 JAZZ HOLDOUTS - Morning Breeze 12:16 SHAUN LABELLE - Drive Time 12:12 ERIC DARIUS - Soulful Stride 12:09 PEGGY DUQUESNEL - Silent Night 12:05 PETER WHITE - If Only For You 12:00 RICK BRAUN - Amor de mi vida (Love of my Life) 11:56 KEN NAVARRO - Magic 11:52 RICK HABANA - Journey 11:47 MADOCA - Illusions Of Love 11:43 NELSON RANGELL - Somethin's Goin' On 11:40 DREW DAVIDSEN - Joy To the World 11:36 RICHARD ELLIOT - Work All Night 11:33 SLOW - You Move Me 11:29 HANK BILAL - Jingle Bells 11:26 ILYA SEROV - Just Friends 11:21 NORTH 2UNES WOODALL - On the Move 11:16 PIECES OF A DREAM - Anywhere You Are 11:13 JAY KING - Breathe (Cami's Song) 11:09 JAY ROWE - O Come, All Ye Faithful 11:05 MARCUS JOHNSON - Urban Trust 11:00 ROD BEST - Peaceful 10:57 PHIL DENNY, ANNA STEVENSON - When I Think 10:52 J. WHITE - I Like It 10:47 DAVE KOZ - You Are Me, I Am You (feat. Marc Antoine) 10:42 JUSTIN YOUNG - Silver Bells 10:38 SPONTANEOUS GROOVIN' COMBUSTION - Kickin' It (Remastered) 10:34 MAX HIGHSTEIN - Gratitune 10:29 SHIN GIWON CHRISTMAS CAROL COLLECTION - Santa Clause Is Coming To Town 10:25 BRAD ALEXANDER - You Are My Lady 10:21 STEVE WATSON - Stones Throw 10:17 BRIAN SIMPSON - Nightfall 10:13 KONSTANTIN KLASHTORNI - Everywhere I Go 10:09 GIORGIA PAPASIDERO - Oh Happy Day 10:05 MICHAEL ROSS - We Slept in the Rain 10:00 KIM SCOTT - Poolside 09:56 JAMES LLOYD - Within Reach 09:51 NAJEE - Noche Romantica 09:47 NILS - Dance With Me 09:42 SONNY FAIRLEY - Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas 09:38 CHRISTOPHE GOZE - The Nightfly (2022 Version) 09:34 BLUE SIX - Aquarian Angel 09:29 PETER WHITE - The Christmas Song 09:24 GREGG KARUKAS - First Love 09:20 BRIAN SIMPSON - Speechless 09:16 JONATHAN FRITZEN - Electric 09:11 CHASE HUNA - Mirage 09:08 RONNY SMITH - Go Tell It on the Mountain 09:04 DIDIER LABOSSIERE - VTB Wings 09:00 SAM BASSMAN JENKINS - That's The Way Of The World 08:55 NATE HARASIM - Open Mic 08:53 PETER WHITE - When I'm Alone 08:48 EDGARDO CINTRON - People Get Ready 08:45 ARIEL B - Candy Cane Love 08:41 MICHAEL LEMMO - Chandler Boulevard 08:36 EUGE GROOVE - Good Night 08:30 SAM LEVINE - Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus 08:26 MARCUS JOHNSON - 18Th & M 08:22 BROOKE ALFORD - On the Move 08:17 JEFFERY SMITH - In the Moment 08:13 PIECES OF A DREAM - Under the Influence (of Pieces) 08:09 DAVE KOZ - O Come All Ye Faithful 08:05 PATRICK YANDALL - Dawn Patrol 08:00 KIM WATERS - Smoothness 07:57 EARL KLUGH - I'm Ready For Your Love 07:53 MARION MEADOWS - Andalusian Sunset 07:48 RICHARD SMITH - Groove Assets 07:45 STEVE OLIVER - The Game Is On 07:41 CARL ANDERSON - O, Holy Night 07:36 KONSTANTIN KLASHTORNI - Lullaby 07:32 RON KING - Cascade 07:29 JAREZ - Santa Claus Is Coming to Town 07:25 PAUL BROWN - Side Steppin' 07:21 JEFF KASHIWA - Voices 07:17 SHAUN LABELLE - Desert Nights 07:13 PHILLIP DOC MARTIN - Look to the Sky 2020 07:08 TONY LINDSAY - Merry Christmas 07:04 NILS - Jump Start 07:00 RYAN LA VALETTE - Another Day In Paradise 06:56 RICHARD ELLIOT - Sake For Two 06:51 PATRICK YANDALL - It's Our Time 06:47 JEFF RYAN - Up and Up 06:44 CHRIS 'BIG DOG' DAVIS - White Christmas 06:39 3RD FORCE - You Are The One 06:34 JAMES SAXSMO GATES - Airwaves (feat. Fabian Lance & Carl Lester-El) 06:30 RONNY SMITH - What Child is This 06:25 JAMHUNTERS - Tah-Two 06:21 FUNKTASTIC PLAYERS - Summer Winds 06:17 DAVE BRADSHAW JR. - Nothin' But Groove 06:13 SPONTANEOUS GROOVIN' COMBUSTION - Spy vs Spy 06:09 XAVIER GORDON - Christmas Without You 06:05 DARRON COOKIE - Red Moon 06:00 EUGE GROOVE - Gimme 6 05:55 ROBERT HARRIS - Keys to My Heart 05:52 CHRIS GODBER - Sizzle (feat. Adam Hawley) 05:47 MARK JAIMES - Peak Too Soon 05:43 BROOKE ALFORD, DAN BARASZU - Christmas Time Is Here (With Love and Strings) 05:39 KIM WATERS - A Song for Dana 05:35 GERALD ALBRIGHT - G-Wiggle 05:30 ARIEL B - Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas 05:26 ERIC DARIUS - All Around The World 05:21 MICHAEL ROSS - Four Seasons to Cross 05:17 MARION MEADOWS - Life In The Clouds 05:12 GREGG KARUKAS - Love Is In Your Own Backyard 05:09 JOHNNY JOHNSON - O Come All Ye Faithful 05:04 REGGIE CORDINGTON - Living The Dream 05:00 KONSTANTIN KLASHTORNI - Day In Day Out 04:56 STEVE OLIVER - Fun in the Sun 04:52 RON OTIS - Miles Like 04:48 VASSAL BENFORD - Melody Man 04:45 MARSHALL CHARLOFF - HipNautic 04:41 BRADLEY LEIGHTON - Santa Clause Is Coming To Town 04:36 PHILIPPE SAISSE - The Dolphin 04:32 BRIAN SIMPSON, STEVE OLIVER - Unified 04:29 JODY MAYFIELD - The Little Drummer Boy 04:24 KIM WATERS - Water's Edge 04:20 MEKIEL REUBEN - No Where Love 04:16 RICHARD ELLIOT - Say It's So 04:12 PETER WHITE - One On One 04:08 TONY CRADDOCK JR. - Deck The Halls 04:03 DARREN MOTAMEDY - This Love 04:00 LES SABLER - Keep Pushin' 03:56 KIM WATERS - Fireflies (feat. Zandaya) 03:52 WILL SUMNER - Where We Go 03:48 ROB TARDIK - Perserverance (feat. Roberto Vally) 03:44 CHRIS 'BIG DOG' DAVIS - Focus 03:41 CHRISTMAS CAROLS - Christmas Bells 03:38 SAM BASSMAN JENKINS - Bassin 03:33 PAUL JACKSON JR. - Down the Road 03:30 SYLVIA BENNETT - Silent Night 03:25 CAL HARRIS JR., TED BELLEDIN - Bella Nova 03:20 ADAM HAWLEY - While You Were Dreaming (Feat. Michael Lington) 03:16 CHILLAXING JAZZ KOLLEKTION - Speak Life 03:12 JONATHAN FRITZEN - A Funky Night 03:08 NATHAN WOODWARD - Jingle Bells 03:04 PATRICK YANDALL - Smile For Today 03:00 NAJEE - Center of the Heart 02:55 OLI SILK - Every Single Way (feat. Holly Petrie) 02:51 THE SAX PACK - Like Old Times 02:47 TIM BOWMAN - All My Life 02:44 DAVE KOZ - It's All Love 02:38 BRIAN BROMBERG - Wonderful Christmastime 02:35 DANIEL CHIA - Malibu Drive 02:31 J. WHITE - Mr. Nugroove 02:27 ART FOUR SALE - O Come All Ye Faithful 02:24 KONSTANTIN KLASHTORNI - Hookin' Up 02:20 ENNY - What's Love Got to Do with It (feat. Marcus Anderson & Matt Cusson) 02:17 PEET PROJECT - On My Way 02:12 JEFF KASHIWA - Because of You 02:09 STEVE OLIVER - Watching the Snowfall 02:05 HERB PARTLOW - Drop It! 02:00 JEFFERY SMITH - What's Your Flavor 01:57 BRANDON WILLIS - All I Need 01:53 NILS - Nine2Five 01:48 KIM WATERS - I'm Not the Only One 01:45 DEAN GRECH - What Do You Want This Year For Christmas 01:41 RICHARD ELLIOT - Seven Sacred Pools 01:37 PETER WHITE - Windy City 01:32 MEKIEL REUBEN - Zoraida (A Feel for Hope) 01:28 FREDDIE FOX - From The Heart 01:25 SHARMOND SMITH - Deck The Halls 01:22 PHILLIP DOC MARTIN, JULIAN VAUGHN - Make You Feel 01:18 MARC ANTOINE - Spooky 01:14 CHRIS GODBER - Summer Solstice 01:10 NICK COLIONNE - Call Me Love 01:07 ART MORRIS - Baby It's Cold Outside 01:04 EUGE GROOVE - Lay It Down 01:00 SAM BASSMAN JENKINS - On The Move 00:56 GARY HONOR - Way Back When 00:53 RYAN LA VALETTE - Don't Stop Believing 00:50 VINCENT INGALA - Merry Christmas, Darling 00:46 RONNY SMITH - Laid Back (Remix) 00:40 CHAZZY GREEN - Love to Be With You 00:35 JEFF RYAN - Embrace 00:32 PAUL BROWN - Ain't No Sunshine 00:29 PEGGY DUQUESNEL - I Wonder as I Wander 00:25 NAJEE - One Night In Soho 00:19 OLI SILK - Didn't Know About Love 00:16 FUNKTASTIC PLAYERS - Mj's Groove 00:12 PIECES OF A DREAM - Steppers D Lite 00:08 ANDRE DELANO - Jolly Old Saint Nicholas 00:04 DAVE KOZ - Love Changes Everything (feat. Brian McKnight) 00:00 PATRICK LAMB - I See it in Your Eyes

#Radio NET Bulgaria #Smooth Jazz #Chillout #Lounge #Downtempo #Ambient #Trance #2022 #December 2022

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brigadeleadxr · 4 years

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against all the odds we did it. notes watching the endless eight

1st ep

love that haruhi told the boys to bring their bikes then was like OK BOYS YOU'RE CARRYIN' THE GIRLS

oh my gosh the little gasp kyon and itsuki make when they turn around and see the girls in the yukatas i’m so soft for that

Koizumi genuinely likes stargazing and used to do it as a kid with a big ol’ telescope :’)

everybody sleeping through the movie except for haruhi and precious bean nagato

YUKI HANDING OUT BALLOONS IN A FROG COSTUME

the koizumi WOBBLE when he’s bowling

everyone tuckered out sleeping on the train :’) that’s friendship

Kyon getting distracted from homework the second his sister plays video games what a mood

2nd ep

what the eff shirtless kyon’s freaking RIPPED ???

Kyon heaving with exhaustion after carrying TWO girls on his bike

Koizumi’s the first to pick up something’s wrong that’s our boi

Kyon almost punching koizumi for messing around in the clothing store

Oh mY gOSH Kyon getting flustered seeing haruhi smile and Koizumi noticing kyon noticing haruhi. I”M SOFT

Mikuru: let me explain classified info and classified then the classified with the classified

SECOND episode and theyre in 15000 LOOPS???

Haruhi and mikuru sleeping on their other’s shoulders :’)

and then whisper ILOVEYOU into her ear omg what

KOIZUMI “SHALL I GIVE IT A TRY” THIS POOR GUY

the piano song in the restaurant appreciation

3rd ep

why’s kyon always parking his bike on the no parking bikes space

haruhi’s white dress appreciation

AWWW EVEN KOIZUMI IS HEAVING WITH EXHAUSTION. KYON IS FLAT ON THE GROUND

what a freaking extra dive into the pool performed by koizumi of course

yuki must have bought every single mask a million times by now

yuki is actually using the telescope for stargazing now :’)

4th ep

my will is weakening

yuki is now visibly sad so i am sad

my favourite round of yukatas so far tho

mikuru did not catch a SINGLE cicada

koizumi: we’re trapped in an infinite time loop of suffering :)

the shot of haruhi in a white dress standing in front of clouds is one of my favourite shots of the whole show

plane motif very prominent

my god kyon can you just freaking say something or do something on the last day

5th ep

speedo koizumi can’t hurt me speedo koizumi can’t hurt me

Koizumi grinning at Kyon at the moment where Kyon gets flustered by haruhi’s smile

Haruhi assaulting mikuru. Koizumi: careful haruhi...you might drop your popsicle

haruhi spinning them around in the playground. mikuru: SCREAMING

the camera turning with the ticking of the clock up to midnight that’s good shit

6th ep

ughhhhhhh

mikuru has had 15000 loops of being NAILED in the face with a beachball think about that. all she gets is a lil ice pack

i wonder if yuki owns any casual clothes or if her wardrobe is now (1) school uniform and (15000) yukatas

mikuru plays baseball like a newborn deer trying to walk

7th ep.

Why are we on this earth? Just to suffer?

i fell asleep halfway had to ....rewind badum tisss i cry

seeing the doors close pisses me off

8th

me devolving as a human being, repeating the lines like spongebob mockery

i hope yuki likes this mask cause that’s the one she’s keeping

i can appreciate that the frog costume kyon gets also looks salty as hell

the shot of kyon holding a spark in his hand :’) good stuff

kyon: EVERYBODY LET ME COPY YOUR HOMEWORK *victorious music plays*

yuki’s empty chair yeah gurl you earned a break

it’s over

my god

#*♔( ooc ) ordinary people

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sacredarts-blog1 · 5 years

Photo

~Choose A Fragrance~

Hello everyone~

To make up for the time I was gone and to start fresh, I decided to do “Choose X” type of divination inspired by my dear friend @jovescorpio, whereas she did this with cups of coffee, I decided to channel fragrances... All you have to do is choose one and see what message it brings you. I have also included an animal oracle message to go with each.

Have fun, and I hope you can relate!

1. Everlasting Dream by Alexander McQueen

key notes: marine accord, cypress, sea salt, cedarwood

If you chose this one, your heart longs for love. Love of your dreams, love of your ideals, love that you cannot describe in words, that you cannot define. Still waters run deep. Your heart is deep, but on the outside you appear cool and calm. You cry a lot, about many things, both positive and negative. Though you are alive, you have one foot in another world. The past calls to you, and past lives have unresolved karma which affects your present. You yearn to let go and be free as the wind. You want to be alone, but you're cold and need to be embraced for a long time. A close friend of yours is not be able to give you what you crave, but they /are/ giving you all they have, and their heart is pure, and will never leave your side. Appreciate them.

Animal Oracle: The Swan

Tales of enchanted swan maidens are indigenous to eastern European folklore. This motif makes its most famous appearance in the ballet Swan Lake, which offers the story of a pure-hearted white swan, Odette, and a deceptive black swan, Odylle. In the natural world, some believed that the dying swan sang a song of unsurpassed beauty before death. The expression “swan song” has come to signify a last great accomplishment.

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2. Noir de Noir by Tom Ford

key notes: floral, black truffle, vanilla, patchouli, tree moss

You enjoy wealth and luxury, but not you’re not infatuated with it. There is a healthy relationship between your mind and the things you own. There is some kind of excitement, an anticipation. An opportunity is going to make itself known soon - an opportunity that you've been waiting for for a while. It will give you wings and release you from the past. You're glowing and smiling.

Animal Oracle: The Ram

In astrological symbolism, the ram is affiliated with Aries, the first sign of the zodiac. As such, the ram is a creature of springtime. No surprise, but rams are often found battering against obstacles in an attempt to discover new pathways. In ancient Greece, the ram is best known from the tale of Jason’s quest for the golden fleece. Accordingly the Ram card suggests new riches if one is fearless enough to chase after them.

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3. Virgin Island Water by Creed

key notes: sicilian white bergamot, jamaican lime, sicilian mandarin, herbaceous notes, ylang ylang, indian jasmine, tonkin musk, tropical woods

Escapism. Whatever is happening around you, it's making you feel fragile and weak. You therefore remove yourself into another state of mind, you wander into fantasies, stories, games and daydreams to numb yourself to the daily pain. The tyrant (in whatever way it is represented for you) cannot hurt you if you remove yourself from attachment. You are otherwordly and pure-hearted. Someday soon, you will meet an angel who will be your savior from all of this.

Animal Oracle: The Turtle

A Native American story states that the turtle supports the entire world upon its back; as such, the animal serves as a creation deity. In China, the tradition of feng shui associates the turtle with the element of water. More recently, Aesop’s tale of the Tortoise and the Hare illustrates the stalwart consistency of the turtle’s personality.

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4. Hypnotic Poison by Christian Dior

key notes: sambac jasmine absolute, orange blossom, tonka bean, licorice, vanilla

Forceful. Whatever it is you want, whoever you are, you are like a drop of blood on pure white snow, seeping into it, spreading and melting the ice. Something about you penetrates barriers that other people can't access, as well as those that they have put up. You see the Truth. Your mind, heart and body know. There is something important, a hunch, that you're actually right about but you haven't received validation for feeling this way. This is your validation.

Animal Oracle: The Carp

This fish is judged to be a good luck charm in many cultures because it resembles gold, that most precious of metals. Throughout Asia the carp is considered a magical spirit. A goldfish even plays the fairy godmother role in a Chinese Cinderella story.

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5. Gucci Flora 1966 by Gucci

key notes: boubon pepper, bergamot, rose, peony, musk, vetiver, patchouli

Beautiful hands, clean and elegant person. You are focused and working away on something - something that you have accepted responsibility for, perhaps something of an artistic nature. You are surrounded by sophisticated or gifted people, but you're not competitive. You are admired by many, though you're quiet. You may not be noticed, but you are remembered. You will go far in life. Your path will lead you to dizzying heights that you're not yet aware of, because you do not seek fame or success for its own sake. Every award and recognition you receive is completely deserved, be proud.

Animal Oracle: The Fox

The Fox symbolizes harvest after a period of confusion and travail. In both legend and life the fox is a crafty animal. Native American tribes depict the fox as a cunning trickster in their myths. More positively, the fox is associated with wealth. Inari, a Japanese god of food and rice, takes on the form of a fox to visit mortals.

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6. Live Irrésistible by Givenchy

key notes: rose, jasmine, orange blossom, rice, incense, woody notes, vanilla, tonka beans

Pretty and soft. People look at you when you enter a room, and are able to breathe easier. You're a light in people's lives. Your energy relieves stress and fills the room with something beyond words. You are kind and sweet, but find yourself easily taken advantage of. You have healing powers. Something from another world is guiding you and protecting you, but you don't always listen. You get too involved in other people's problems and spend too much time thinking about them. You have a hard time asking for help, but will readily do other people's jobs for them.

Animal Oracle: The Bat

Despite superstition about the bat, the appearance of the Bat card offers the promise of good luck. The reality is that this shy, intelligent animal helps humans by eating insects that carry disease. Still, folk traditions associate the bat with the powers of darkness, fueled by its nocturnal life and the unusual eating habits of the vampire bat. This small bat rarely harms its victims and prefers cattle to humans; yet the vampire associated with this species has become a universal symbol of supernatural evil. The gentle bat is better appreciated in Asia. The Chinese character “fu” stands for both bat and happiness, and Fu-xing, the Taoist god of happiness, is represented by a bat.

#divination #free readings #divination community #givenchy #gucci #tom ford #alexander mcqueen #christian dior #creed #oracle

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tunnelsystem · 5 years

Note

rin kagamine !

ill assume since you didnt put a number that you mean all of them so @silverwiki this counts for u too since u asked for the first three

1. how long have i known about them

since i was 13!

2. whether or not they’ve ever made me cry

HAVE CRIED OVER RIN MANY TIMES…

3. whether or not i have any merchandise/objects with them

yeah ive had kagamine shirts, i have a prize fig of remote controller! rin, a couple rin and len acrylic stands, some rin keychains, (used to have) rin cosplay, have painted her onto canvas backpacks, made a painting of her, both death should not have taken thee! mangas, i have a limited edition TOM kagamine motif bag thats actually really sick and discrete, and probably other stuff im forgetting.

4. what about their personality i like

i like that shes a bastard and an evil lesbian

5. what about their backstory makes me emotional

daughter of evil and kokoro have both made me cry plenty of times over the years

6. the moment of theirs that made me the saddest

when she dies in daughter of evil bc i love tyrants

7. the moment of theirs that made me the happiest

funny rin do a murder in fear garden and rin in ANY video done by glider

8. something about them that made me laugh

when she has a gun

9. my favorite canon outfit of theirs

clown rights!

10. my favorite moment with them in canon

n/a

11. my favorite relationship they have with another character

12. what i like about the way the fandom portrays them

how most people seem to agree that rin is the most vicious vocaloid

13. what i dont like about the way the fandom portrays them

crypton and sega want us to think that shes a smol bean

14. what i liked about the way canon portrayed them

see above. NOTHING.

15. what i dont like about the way canon portrayed them

cant keep repeating myself

#ghostpost #THANKS FOR THE ASK!!#thyphlo #asks #silverwiki

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lillaxtrigger · 5 years

Text

Faded land: Chapter 8

The sun starts to set upon the wastelands as the scientist travels north from the city. Clara looks in her bag, hoping to quell her encroaching hunger, finding only a few rations left in her reserves. “I need to find food soon. Maybe I should have stocked up when I was in the city, but eh. Stuff was going crazy down there.” With that thought passed, she hear her stomach cry out for food. The scientist takes out one of the can, declaring: “Fine, you win. About time for dinner anyway.” She was about to open a can of chicken noodle soup, when something in the horizon catches her eye. In the distance, she notices a wide field of plants along side two houses.

On approach, she finds one of them to be a barn, its red paint chipped and faded. Beside it was a farmhouse, 2 stories tall, the paint job not as bad but still has had its toll. Behind the abode, she could see fields and gardens of growing vegetables. Something didn’t seem quite right about them, the corn stalks colored yellowish orange. The discoloration is a little discomforting. Beside the barn was a set of trees, growing budding fruit upon their branches, the buds along the wooden limb look rather yellow. Lemon tree’s perhaps? As Clara walks towards the front door, she wonders how the residence could grow next to anything with such barren soil. It should be next to impossible. This doubt makes her hesitate to knock, wondering if she should just take her chances with the wastelands and just move on. Before she could make up her mind, the door open.

A young man walks out, surprised to see her at the door. “Oh..Uh, hey there. Didn’t think we’d get guests out in these parts. What might a young lady like you be doing out here?” “Umm…Hi...I was just traveling my way up north, and....” In that moment she feels her stomach rumble out in protest. “Was hopping I could stay for the night.”. “Oh, well. I’d have to talk with ma and pa first about it.” the young man answers. “Rubin! What’s the hold up?” someone inside shouts. “Someone’s at the door! Some traveler. They say they wanna stay for the night.” “Really? What are you waiting for, let em in!” they exclaim enthusiastically.

Invited in, she finds the interior of the home to me much nicer then the exterior, even if the décor seems old fashioned, like stuff you’d find on an antique show that would play on daytime television for people who miss the bygone days of their youth. Like the elderly woman seated upon one of the chairs, staring out into space. From the stairs, a round, but burly man walks down, greeting her with: “Evenin there, little lady. Who might you be wondering around?” “Um, M-My name’s Clara. I’m honestly kinda surprised to find a farm all the way out here. Especially one that’s...Plentiful as yours.” The man lightly chuckles, conceding with: “Well, suppose it is a little strange. Coming across our little farm smack dab in the middle of all these lifeless lands I like to think of it as our own little oasis that we made here ourselves. Just call me Jeb, I run this slice of heaven here with my lovin family. The old lady sittin there is my mama.” The elderly woman doesn’t respond, simply glaring at the scientist and looks back into nothing. “The boy that let ya in my pride and joy, Rubin.” “You’re awfully lucky here, ma’am. Ma was just about to serve us up some grub.” “Oh really? Well...got room for one more?” Clara asks. “Course. There’s plenty for everyone. Why don’t I get ya seated to the dining room.” the son offers. “Now Rubin, you supposed to check up on the animals before you ate, remember?” “Right, right. Be back in a minute.” The son runs out the door, leaving Clara with the father. “Come on. Dinners right this way.”

Walking into the dining room/kitchen, the scientist found the whole old timely motif to extend past the living room. The entire kitchen looked like a portal opened up into the 1950’s. Even the appliances looked to be from that era as a woman stirs a boiling pot over a warmly lit stove. “Marcy, we got a guest. Hope you have something good for us.” “Oh! Well, I made plenty of vegetable stew for everyone. Why don’t you get yourself seated and I’ll serve you up a bowl.” the wife responds. “Uh-Okay.” Clara plants herself firmly on one of the wooden chairs surrounding the simple dining table. The scent of the meal in combination of the humble motif makes her relax. Perhaps, she thought, that this suspicions she might have had about this simple farm might have been nothing more then travelers paranoia...that is, until dinner is served.

Served in front of her was the aforementioned vegetable stew that the misses had promised. But something about the thought to be humble cuisine was terribly wrong. The vegetables within this quaint stew were horribly shaped and had sickening colors. Like the starchy potato pieces were blue, having tiny spikes coming from the skins left on. The celery parts were a posh shade of purple, the texture looked to be one you would find from a human tongue. Carrots were green, and also incredibly hairy, like a bigfoot of carrots. The green beans weren’t green at all, more like a sick fleshly color, even looked like bits of flesh too. If the horrible site wasn’t enough to bear, the overwhelming stench threatened to make her wretch. This is disgusting! Who in their right mind would eat this!? The almost otherworldly mixture in front of her made her feels ungodly amounts of sick, watching as the mother placed the other bowls near the remaining chairs that the family sits on. As they place themselves around the table, Rubin comes back in and rushes into the dinning room. “Hoowee, finally dinner is served!” As the boy seats himself, Jeb compliments his wife with: “Dinner sure looks good tonight hun. You really outdid you’re self.” “Aw, thanks dear.” The scientist is completely put off by the excited expressions made by the family, despite the mutated stew they were about to consume. They were acting like this was normal. She needs an excuse fast. With that, Clara quickly rises from her chair, feigning with: “You know what, I just remembered that I ate a whole can of beans before I got here. I don’t think I could eat anything, even if I wanted to. Hehe whoops.” “Oh, you sure about that?” Jeb asks. “You won’t even take a little bite?” the wife wonders. “Pretty sure. I-I’m quite full. Think I’ll just hit the hay and get some shut eye. You don’t happen to have a guest room, do you?” “We got one upstairs. Rubin, show her to her room.”. “Aw, but Pa, dinner.” “After you escort this young lady to her room. That clear?” With a grumpy huff, the son tells Clara: “Come on.”.

Rubin, leads the scientist to where she would be sleeping for the night. A rather minimal, but functional bedroom, whose furniture that it did have match the retro design with the rest of the house. “See you in the mornin.” the son concludes before shutting the door on his way out. Upon laying upon the bed, she spots the barn beyond the windowsill. A faint glow was emanating from the cracks of the building, leaking out into the night air. Clara thinks that the son just might have left the light on in there or something.

Her stomach then rumbles in protest, complaining about the lack of food going in. The scientist grasps her belly, pondering to herself: “Need to eat something. I can’t dig into one of the cans right now. Too risky. I’ll just wait for everyone to go to sleep to eat.”

Awaiting through the night, Clara holds off dining until she hears no more noise coming from outside her room. Once the house was dead quite, she took out her can opener and busted out a can of vegetable soup, an irony not lost on the young scientist. After finishing the last of the hearty soup, she hides the leftover can in her bag she sat aside the bottom of the bed. It might get kinda messy, but she dares not to leave any evidence of her midnight snack. With her hunger pains staved off, she dozes off in the comforting embrace of the stitched sheeting.

The morning rises from the front of the abode. The twilight shine pouring into the guest bedroom. With the sun, Clara rises from the old mattress, reaching for her bag as her senses awaken. She feels nothing from the side of the bed and looks over. Her bag had vanished in her sleep. Oh shit! The realization makes the scientist snap from her daze and soon drives into a panic for her missing supplies. She looks everywhere in the room for her bag, hoping that it was just misplaced from last night. That hopes fails to come true as her bag was nowhere to be found.

She rushes downstairs in hurry, a bizarre scent caught in her nose that she ignores. With Jeb sitting upon one of the chairs in the living room, he notices the young lady’s worry. “What the matter darling? Look like you seen a ghost last night.” “My bag! It’s gone!” “Whoa, slow down! Slow down! No need to get worked up.” “But all my stuff is in it. I can’t possibly leave without it!” Clara panics. “Well, where’d you place it last?” “I-I It was beside my bed last night before I went to sleep.” “Hmm, you know what might have happened. Pour ol ma over there must’ve snuck into your room last night and hide it somewhere.” Jeb guesses, pointing over to his mom in the corner, the elder staring into nothing. “Can you ask her where she hid it?” “Oh, I don’t know if she’d know, even if you’d ask. She’s probably forgot about it by now. Dementia. Real shame.” “Then, can I just look around the house for it.” “Of course not! You can’t just rummage through someones home, especially if you’re nothing but a guest.” “Well then what I’m I supposed to do? I can’t leave without my stuff.” Clara questions.

As Jeb leads her in the kitchen, he explains to the scientist: “I’ll have Marcy look for the bag for ya. In the meantime, why don’t ya help out around the farm. Be mighty nice to have a couple more hands around, seeing with you staying us and all. But first, lets all enjoy a mighty fine, farm fresh, batch of home cooked eggs.” Clara is then greeted with the site of the abhorrently grotesque piles of gunk that slightly resembled cooked eggs. Not only were they an unsavory shade of green, she could swear they were glowing. Beside it was purple swill that she guessed was supposed to be the milk. Time to bust out another half assed excuse.

“Un...You know, I think I might just skip breakfast and just get a head start on chores.” Clara pulls out as she makes her way toward the back door. “Really?” “Yep, better to get them over with then to put them off later, that’s what I always say. Hee hee.” “Alrighty then, if you wanna start, the cabbage patch need watering. Watering can right beside the back door.” “Kay. Sounds fun. Later.” the scientist blurts as she scurries out the door.

Once out, she takes a much exhausted sigh. How can these people eat food like that? Matter of fact, how can they grow them? Questions that stew within the young lady’s mind as she finds the mentioned watering can beside her.

As promised, she’d start with the cabbage patch. Watering the garden in the dry heat, she finds the cabbages to be a normal color of green. Oddly suspicious considering the breakfast she just skipped out on. What’s really going on with these things? Clara looks over one of the many green produces, noting the strange texture as she rubs her fingers against the leaves. She knew there had to be something wrong with them, just like all the weird ass food on this bizarre farm. But what, exactly are these cabbages deal. Upon past the edge of the cabbages, she finds some insects traveling beside the soil. Clara notices that the bugs wouldn’t get anywhere near the columns of dubious produce, instead trekking around them in an orderly fashion. Even to the lowly insects that crawl around the remains of this country, scavenging for whatever they can find, know full well that this food is nowhere near worth stopping for.

After which, she’s asked to clean the animal pens in the barn. Given a bucket of water, sponge, a shovel, and rake she head towards the faded red building. Upon coming through the doors of the barn, she is greeted with the site of the less the humble animals inside. Clara is horrified by the site of the mutated barn mates, with overly sized bulbous craniums above their misshapen bodies. The scientist deduced from the milk and eggs that they wouldn’t be normal, but wasn’t prepared for how warped they’d truly be. With hesitation, she shuts the door and opens one of the pens to let the cow out. She dreaded the thought of touching one of them, figuring their mutation might spread upon contact. As if the black patched bovine knew of her inner paranoia, the bovine calmly walks out from her pen, giving the young lady plenty of space to clean. Although finding it odd, she pays little mind to it. Anything to get out of this smelly freak show circus faster.

Brandishing the bucket and sponge, Clara starts with wooden pen itself. She finds the wood the pen is made of to be incredibly cracked and dry, the perfect material for a fire to prosper, as extended with the wood that made up the barn. As she begins to soak the wooden structure, she looks beside her to find the cow simply staring at her, not taking its unblinking gaze off Clara for even a second. The beady black eyes glaring into her make the scientist shudder, persuading the scientist to hurry.

After she cleaned the cows pen, she moves on to the others. Each and every time, the animals politely came out like well pampered dogs from the richest estates. It didn’t matter, horse, chickens, pig, all of them stood and watched as Clara was cleaning their pens. And no matter how long it was for, she never got used to their calm, blatant gazes.

After the entire day, the scientist was finally done with cleaning, the image of the animals dead eyed gaze burnt into her memory. Coming out of the barn, she was relieved to breathe in anything that wasn’t just animal leftovers, even if it was the cold wastelands nightly air. “Huuuh...Finally.”. The sun had set a while ago, leaving her in the darkness with only the lights of the farm house to guide her back.

Once back in the abode, Clara was greeted with the scent of cooked starch in the air. “Oh no.” she quietly uttered, something that she thought she would never say from the smell of dinner. Rubin peeks from behind the corner of the kitchen, informing the young lady: “Hey there, you just in time. Ma cooked us up a whole bunch of cooked taters. Come on.”

Looking into the kitchen, she was greeted with the site of horribly disfigured potatoes. The shape of the starchy vegetables themselves was completely indescribable, almost like they came from an entirely different plane of existence. Pure white as snow, the inside of the misshapen potato was frothing black as it was cut in, like bubbling sludge. She didn’t know what else she was expecting as she watched the family dig into the grotesque meal with delight. “Don’t be shy, little missy. We got room for one more.” Jeb tells her, pointing towards the empty seat with a potato in front. “Oh! Uh, thanks, but...” The scientist yawns in the middle of her excuse, claiming: “I’m just so tired from working all day. I’m just gonna head straight to bed.” “Eh, suit yourself.”

Plopping herself down upon the guest bed, she feels her stomach rumbling out to her, calling out for a meal. She grasps her stomach, thinking to herself. “So hungry. But I can’t eat that stuff. Who knows what it might do to me. Just gotta hang in there and hope my bag turns up.” With nothing around for her to eat, she tries to sleep off her hunger pains.

After dodging morning breakfast, she’d told to pick the apples from the trees beside the cornfield. With basket in hand, she finds the healthy looking tree full of golden apples. Picking one of them off the branch, she looks over the bountiful fruit. It’s doesn’t look horribly disfigured, just looks like any plain old apple. The color is a little suspicious, though she had heard of apples called golden delicious that look similar. The temptation of the shining fruit makes the young lady drool out. Its almost too much to resist. Maybe just...one bite wouldn’t hurt. The scientist begins to lift the apple towards her salivating lips, her mouth widening as the juicy fruit edges close. Just when her teeth were near biting down upon the golden delicious, she sees the skin of fruit slightly pulsate, almost like a beating heart. The site snaps her out of the wicked trance, dropping the fruit as she backs away from the tree in a panic. Jeb rushes to her aid, asking: “What? What’s wrong?” “The-the apple. I thought I saw it pulse.” “What?” The farmer picks up the apple the scientist dropped, inspecting the fruit in question. “Hmm...” After looking over the apple, the farmer tells her: “Looks fine to me.” Turning to the young lady, the farmer suggests: “Maybe its just the heat. It is a scorcher today.” As Jeb walks away, Clara approaches the tree once more, inspecting the apple he had dropped on the ground. She wonders of what she saw was really just the heat getting to her or if the excuse the farmer fed her was a lie.

After picking the rest of the ominous apples, she then tasked to help pick the crops. While tending to the kernel fields, she knew something had to be up with the orange shells. Peeling back the shell revealed the kaleidoscope pattern underneath, like the colors a junkie would see when taking a daily dose of LSD. Of course. Clara refrained from freaking out over the technicolor corn and instead took an exhausted sigh. She was just about done with this shit. Looking behind the wall of crops, the scientist finds the father and son distracted with picking their harvest. In the other direction stood the home of the family. The situation couldn’t be any more perfect. With haste, she quietly makes her way towards the abode.

With nobody around, she begins her search for her supplies with one of the bedrooms upstairs. Inside the couples dwellings, she looks through their closet, finding farm shirts and dresses among the dozen. All of them were put together with one another, making it hard to tell which articles of clothing belonged to whom among the bunch. Looking through proved to be fruitless as her bag wasn’t within. She tries her luck with the drawers, but finds nothing but bunched up garments inside. Finally she looks under the bed, but to no avail.

The young lady moves onto the living closet. Opening inside revealed an entire plethora of junk cobbled together in such a terrible mess. Seriously, do these people ever organize? Among the junk, she doesn’t see her stuff and closes the door, finding the old woman on the other side. The sudden appearance makes Clara jump, the elders fixed gaze staring at the scientist. “Oh. Hey. I...I was just looking for the...bathroom. Yeah, he he. Was just a little lost is all.” As the young lady faked an innocent laughter, the grandmothers only responds with her deadpan glare. Clara backs away from the old lady, entering the nearest room she could.

After a weary sigh, she found herself in the bathroom. She might as well look through since she’s got the chance. Peeking in the shower, she finds bottles of home made soap and shampoo beside yellow rust stained wall, but no bag. Looking into the cabinet under sink showed toilet paper, a scrub brush, electric clippers and more soaps next to a set of rusty pipe, but still no bag. She then turns her attention towards the toilet. Doubt that they’d be stupid enough to hide it in there. But considering what they consume, it wouldn’t be that far-fetched. She slowly lifts the lid of the toilet with wavering desire. Please let there be nothing in here. Thankfully, there wasn’t. That’s a relief. Maybe inside the back? Lifting the lid of the back revealed the pipework of the oval office submerged in water, but again no bag.

Walking out the bathroom, she’s surprisingly greeted with the misses. “What are you doing inside, dear? Shouldn’t you be helping the boys?” she questions. “I-I am. I just needed to go to the bathroom, is all.” “You look a little thirsty. Mind a glass of apple juice?” Marcy offers, lifting a glass of apple juice from seemingly nowhere. “Uh...No thanks. I’ll just take some water. Can’t really have any sugar. Diabetes and stuff. Real shame. Sure looks good though.” With that lie delivered, she hurries away from the housewife.

After dodging dinner once more, Clara climbs into bed. Her stomach strikes out in hunger, the fatigue spreading through her body. She groans alongside her empty belly. Can’t keep this up forever. Sooner or later, something has to go in her gullet.

Biting off the pillow trying to stave off her pains, the constant hunger keeps her from drifting off to sleep through the night. Quite convenient that it did thought, for she spots a shining light outside in her hunger fueled wake. Looking out the window, she finds Rubin walking towards the barn with a lit lantern and something else in hand. A closer look shows the farmers son carrying the scientists backpack. A lot of questions go through Clara’s head, but she was to starving to answer any of them. The young lady just wanted her stuff back. She rises from her bed, ready to claim her supplies back from these lying hillbillies. Going downstairs would be far too risky, so she opts to just jump out the window instead. She falls from the second story and onto the crack ground below with a thud. After prying herself off the ground, she scurries towards the barn. In front of the red farmhouse, the young lady finds the door to be sliding open, much to her dismay.

Rubin comes out of the barn, thinking that he might have heard something, but the empty night air in front of him proved otherwise. His worry put to rest, the farmers son head back towards his abode failing to notice Clara hiding on the side of the barn. Seeing him go back inside, the scientist sneaks into the red building.

Within, Clara looks around for where Rubin might have stashed her bag, the animals sound asleep within their pens. The lantern the farmers son left behind gives of a warm, gentle glow that illuminates the inside of the barn in a soft sheet of light. Grasping the lantern, it helps her search through the barn as she scans through the freshly cleaned pens, careful not to awaken the slumbering mutants within. Finding no success in tracking her pack, she wonders where else he might have stored it. Above, soft blue light shines through the roof. Following the light, she spots her supplies in the lunar spotlight, perched atop one of the horizontal railings. Looking around, she doesn’t see anywhere she might be able to climb up towards the wooden support. So instead, she decides to make one. The tools that were left behind during her clean up of the pens the other day should suffice.

Leaving the burning lantern on the floor, she carefully stacks the tools and supplies, making a less than sturdy pole leading up towards the roof. Atop, Clara jumps for the wooden railing, making the wobbly structure collapse. The scientist manages to grasp the support beam, pulling herself to the top of the railing. She balances her way towards her bag, shimmying around the wooden columns that hold the ceiling in place. Clara closes in on her supplies, but find them to be moving away from her. She quickly crawls towards the bag as it tries to escape. The young lady then jumps for her pack, catching her supplies as she falls towards the floor. After rolling through the barn upon impact, she shakes off the dirt on her and check to see if all of her stuff was inside. Looks like it everything’s in place. With that confirmed, she heads for the exit. When trying to slide the door open, she finds it to be stuck. “Dammit, locked! Did they see me?” she wonders. “No. We locked it.” a voice rings out. The sudden chime makes her jumps, looking around the barn for who might have answered. “Who...Who’s there?” she cautiously asks. How could her mysterious guest know what she was thinking? Looking towards the pens, she sees the locks on the gates open on their own. The gates then swing open, prompting the animals inside to walk out. All of them gather in front of her, their beady gaze locked onto the scientist. “No...Did...Did one of you just say that?” The pigs eyes begin to give an emerald glow as a voice pierces through the scientist psyche. “Indeed...We did.” Her suspicions proven correct, Clara backs away from the barn mates, her back against the door. “We have been blessed and cursed with the gift of perception alongside the power of the psychics.” “How is this possible?” the scientist wonders. “It was thanks all in part to the radioactive wastes that plague this land.”

“One unfortunate day ago, a massive nuclear blast struck our home, tainting the very land we have grown to love. In the aftermath, we found our precious home destroyed alongside our families, and our caretakers at the time. Endlessly, we wandered through the broken fields. Our hunger unable to diminish thanks to our mutations. Until we found the humble family that you’ve gotten to know.” “Using our own by products, milk, eggs, and even fertilizer, we have taken control of their minds and indoctrinated them as our servants. As long as they eat our tainted food, we may command them to do as we wish.” “But they took you in and took care of you. H-how could you do this to them?” Clara demands. “We have delved into their minds and found their true intentions. They didn’t love us. They wanted to eat us. Just like the rest.” “Before we stumbled upon this once baron farm, we’ve came across dozens of humans during our travels that have had the same desires as they did. It made us question if the farmer that bred us had the same intentions. We’ve delved into their psyches in search for an answer as to why. Why us?” “It was then that we’ve found that our kind was nothing but food to the human race. Even going so far as to slaughter our kind by the millions. Marching them to their deaths in murderous factories.” “We shall end this horrible suffering. Using the food we grow, we shall spread our influence across the land. Mutating our kind into the realm of sentience and flipping the entire food chain upside down. It’s going to be one hell of a party.” “That’s why, Clara, we need you.” Out from the shadows of the barn appeared the farmer and his family, their eyes glistening a glow of emerald. “For our plan to flourish, We need all the human hands we can find.” The family surrounds the scientist, pinning her to the hay covered ground by her arms. As she struggles to free herself from their grip, the son takes out something that vaguely resembled a tomato. The grandmother forcefully opens her mouth as Rubin drives the misshapen vegetable towards her face. “Don’t worry darling. You’ll soon be one of the family.” Marcy assures. “We could always use more help around the farm.” Jeb mentions. “Once you get some grub in your gullet. You’ll be just fine.” Rubin tells her. “Eh he he he he he he he! Eat up, sweetie.” the grandmother manically commands. Struggling under their grip, she kicks Rubin in the crotch and throws him onto his grandmother. She then breaks out of the couples grip and runs from the family.

Past the psychic animals, she rushes towards the back of the barn to brandish the shovel left upon the floor. The son quickly approaching, she strikes Rubin in the head with the blunt end of the tool. The horse threatening to stomp on the scientist, Clara sidesteps out of the way of the hooves. The chickens flutter at her, pecking at her face. Before they could go for the eyes, she smacks them aside. The couple lunge towards the scientist in a hurry, one of the chickens hitting the husbands in the face. Clara swings downwards towards her legs, tripping the wife down on the ground. The cow charges straight for her, its angry mooing echoing through the barn. She dodges out of the stampeding bovines path, leaving it to break through the pens. The pig tries to take her shovel using its telekinetic powers. Clara grips onto her weapon, pulling back against the pigs psychic pull. She looks down and finds a bunch of the hay laid abut her feet. The scientist kicks the hay and dirt in the pigs direction, making the pork chop flinch as it tries shakes the dirt out. She then uses this chance to smack the pig towards the wall like a golf club whacking a ball across the green.

As the piggy was whacked towards the wall, it smacks into the lantern resting next to the supplies. The flames inside are knocked into the hay laid strewn across the floor, quickly growing to a fiery blaze. “Quick! Put the flames out!” the horse demands. As all of them were distracted by the fire, Clara begins to head for the door. The flames are a step ahead of her as they consume the entrance in a blaze. The only way out now is the hole in the roof, but how to reach it? There's not enough time to stack the tools again; this place is burning down fast. Seeing the horse fruitlessly stamp on the fires near one of the unbroken pens gives her the chance she need. Clara jumps on the set of pens, rushing towards the horse as the fire starts to consume them. She jumps on to the horses back and towards one of the barn walls. The scientist jams the shovel into the wall, giving her the perfect platform to jump for the remaining roof support. Clinging to the wooden railing, she hurries along the horizontal beams as the flames drew closer. Clara leaps towards the hole in the roof and climbs out before the fire could reach. She jumps off the roof of the barn and roughly lands on the cracked grounds below.

Looking back, she watches as the red building is consumed by the fire, the orange glow of the flames piercing through the night. Looking towards the various fields and gardens full of mind control inducing fruits and vegetables, she knew what she had to do. Using one of the nearby corn stalks as a torch, she sets the entire plantation ablaze, making sure that none of these mutant plants are left for anyone to consume just in case one of the farm animals survives. With the farm in a blazing storm, Clara takes out one of her reserves as she set off into the nightly wastes.

#faded land #lillaxtrigger

2 notes · View notes

operawasp81 · 2 years

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#더킹카지노 #라이브바카라

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davidjjohnston3 · 3 years

Text

/ first love / things of first love / looking on my parents as my first love / who looked on me as her first love / (but) "My Greatest Love' / commitment to truth about love / minjung theology / "total christology" - / returning love to the first love and greatest love (john 3:16) / "The Roommate" - Westfield (NJ) Snow - the Kim brothers - Trader Joe's - Zegna shirtmaker(?) - Tracy Espiritu - "The Faces on the Heights" (2008) - from social media, my governor's school friends, Mona (Monna?) Yao I never met, who made Chingwen stop hating Shanghainese, ECE girl from RU GSE (Graduate School of Education not Governor's School of Environment) - very black eyes - She wanted to buy the Minnie Mouse dress from the Disney Store - Jessie Lee, he drinks a diet coke then goes running - "California" is a frisbee play I thought only I know - Jessie wanted to be my friend or so b/c my brother is excellent - "That play is called California [dumb----] - Always California is a Law School Discussion person whose essay I told her what she meant / where she was going with her past-future but nowadays Millennials etc. can actually form a face-intent without finding themselves first and go forward forever instead of "whatever shrapnel in my back pocket could afford" or people who try to base their plans on available resources instead of aiming then looking for resources / materials. Jessie told Lydia Han "Take care of yourself" - She was playing DDR at Fusion Ti and not talking to me - I don't remember her last words to me - They were making noodles in Edison - / what did i ever do that was not writing about my friends / alden's vanilla bean ice cream (maria / change mind), 2 everything bagels davidovich, earlier a few ginger coconut candies from h-mart but made in china, coconut oil for brain, MiO energy thing Acai Berry and Ginseng, earlier 8th continent soy milk thing, almond silk, spanish mixed nuts, 7 almonds (obama?) - i had more - avocado butter - drinking canola oil - californian olive oil burns - i have a cold sore - i can't have canned tomatoes anymore - 183 pounds AHC "All His Children" / my password used to be for tassadaromega... canisexmachina... then I changed to impluveam impluveam11 impluveam11et - jaeyoung's son "fullness" - a glass of white wine at centraal the full measure of god's spirit (sauvignon) - mushroom soup i didn't touch - Why did I not follow through on what was demanded not to talk a word with him - the beginning of "Stepfather" - It is clean at the Food Court at Mayfair Mall - I feel powerless and pure - I will read the paper with you and explain why you should not take "Parasite" as a Gospel message about what has to happen, or... but it is easy for me to promise 'strong benevolence' is better than immediate economic justice or - In my first dream of "Searching For Towards the Eastern Empire" "lily Sarah" moved with her baby wrapped swaddled in light dove gray right to left through the woods to the field / meadow, in a cool spring or so, now past a frozen lake through the colors of "Elizabeth's Nightgown" or the summer colors of 2012 2021 left to right, the whole procession, carrying lanterns too, a bit like Caspar David Friedrich colors and a bit like that frozen lake out in the suburbs of Madison where Nikki called me and the phone vibrated on my heart to tell me Chi Hye tried to call me on Valentine's Day night - I called her - I forget - someone's phone ran out of batteries - the next day we got (?) at (?) Japanese "I really want to eat rice" - and a bit like "Fantasia Night on Bald Mountain" - the procession of the Saints with the lanterns, "we all of us." The rainy cliff, the Korean refugees(?). The image from "The Admiral" where the civilians flag Yi Sunshin from the cliffside shore. In my 645 rendition they are walking, the notes are like babies on their heads. But the image of the peasants signalling to YSS in another vision are chained together and being gatling gunned which is why I say some people want to kill all Koreans. Maybe it is because of that short from Apocalypse Now or maybe it is because of and why I named Segalchik "Danilov" from "Enemy at the Gates" the Commissar who wants to build a new world and man and whose dying words are "There will always be rich in love and poor in love," then allowed Koenig to shoot him in the head to draw him out for his "teacher only friend" because I guess enemies are enemies and friends are friends and Russians are loyal, even in failure, like how Nabokov synaesthete said "loyal is like a gold fork," and Putin doesn't forgive traitors. Putin reminds me of Houellebecq's voice from the end of Particulaires "This book is dedicated to the human race who saw beyond themselves" - as and with the poem from the beginning, "Now that we dwell in the eternal afternoon we can revisit the end of the old world order" - and in the end "the medieval grace and sin" - "ontology of states not space" - I still remember the bruised skin on the cover, which would come from limited beatings or a certain kind of holding sex - My favorite Houellecq poem is "Liquid Birth" from "Art of Struggle" - "This world has never been written of" - It makes me cry like thinking about Kendi's beauty - "It's there, at least possible." - What's Macron up to - He married his teacher(?) - "My thoughts are too complicated" - Putin's too - Russian elementary piano teachers hold the student's hand and split the fingers for toward cantabile - I learned the Goldbergs and the only book I'll touch anymore is Kempff's organ transcriptions with his precise description of pedaling like a certain kind of chapel organ - "Kempff played better than he could (Liszt's Saint Francis preaching to the birds) - and when he played "Berceuse" in 1946 it's like saying to Germany "Dream for a while" defeated in WW2 - He lived to be 95 - father-like. Wilhelm Kempff is "saenggi(?)" - "Oh [Dave]." He doesn't try to give, or make. He just "says." Like "the wave said what the sea broken once laboriously spoken." That's why I say he's the best; he's one of the best pianists ever. "Sospiro" final fioritura - I wrote "sospira" where the piano-teacher is mandatorily retired and euthanised after his best student - Arrau said relax use your soul - I drove through Indiana corn fields listening to his "Emperor Concerto" 1st movement - "Beethoven America power" - but Kempff does'nt rely on his own soul, he "waits for the Spirit of God" or "waits on the Lord' - "asks the sky." This is why I like Stritch University Francis statue with the birds as well and Francis PP. St Francis of Assisi from whom Michelangeli claimed to be descended and I bought Michelangeli's op 111 DVD at Seoul Arts Center at the Liszt Society concert actually married his secretary in secret or something and "loaded" pieces whereas Kempff loaded nothing, ABM offered to teach Martha Argerich who is my favorite Andante Spianato like Josephine Park but I don't think she took him up on it, he smoked, he practiced at night, his head exploded(?), he died in Lugano. A pianist is a pianist (not a brand, franchise, go into teaching). Jenny / Jaein said I want to be a pianist. My first "Lullaby" was Idil Biret, IDK if the clock motif left hand is 1 2 3 4 5 6 or 1 2 3 4 5 (). A steady lake lapping, not a clock. In "Being Kim Poor" Krystal Jung fell asleep in the rowboat on the lake in Switzerland after the wedding in the chateau and trying to eat / hang out with the caterers. KP is an ex-soldier, her bodyguard, his friend is a Southerner like those Blackwater / Academi types who got rich quitting SF gov't to do contracting but Paul / Poor won't really. I thought about Sunny something something cyber stalkers in Whitefish Bay walking up the hill where I also listened to Fifth Season SSWFL later and in the neighborhood of the Obergefell blackout. "Free firewood" a chopped-up desk - am I an "afterburner" for having a desk and "free."

The original love-truth-faith-promise. The Minjung Theology book is "whiteness-words," holiness.

I feel like I almost arrived all in one piece for a while. I put on my white shirt. I weighed 160(?). The caseworker said she couldn't imagine me another weight. Pop was writing letters to the caseworker. I recommended "Whisper of the Heart" to for her son.

Now I feel like Hananim / God will let 300 saints die young so one sinner can be saved. "I was born in 1970" - I thought she meant "I became an angel in 1970" maybe.

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gldnsctn · 3 years

Text

The Double Image

BY ANNE SEXTON

I am thirty this November.

You are still small, in your fourth year.

We stand watching the yellow leaves go queer,

flapping in the winter rain,

falling flat and washed. And I remember

mostly the three autumns you did not live here.

They said I’d never get you back again.

I tell you what you’ll never really know:

all the medical hypothesis

that explained my brain will never be as true as these

struck leaves letting go.

I, who chose two times

to kill myself, had said your nickname

the mewling months when you first came;

until a fever rattled

in your throat and I moved like a pantomime

above your head. Ugly angels spoke to me. The blame,

I heard them say, was mine. They tattled

like green witches in my head, letting doom

leak like a broken faucet;

as if doom had flooded my belly and filled your bassinet,

an old debt I must assume.

Death was simpler than I’d thought.

The day life made you well and whole

I let the witches take away my guilty soul.

I pretended I was dead

until the white men pumped the poison out,

putting me armless and washed through the rigamarole

of talking boxes and the electric bed.

I laughed to see the private iron in that hotel.

Today the yellow leaves

go queer. You ask me where they go. I say today believed

in itself, or else it fell.

Today, my small child, Joyce,

love your self’s self where it lives.

There is no special God to refer to; or if there is,

why did I let you grow

in another place. You did not know my voice

when I came back to call. All the superlatives

of tomorrow’s white tree and mistletoe

will not help you know the holidays you had to miss.

The time I did not love

myself, I visited your shoveled walks; you held my glove.

There was new snow after this.

They sent me letters with news

of you and I made moccasins that I would never use.

When I grew well enough to tolerate

myself, I lived with my mother. Too late,

too late, to live with your mother, the witches said.

But I didn’t leave. I had my portrait

done instead.

Part way back from Bedlam

I came to my mother’s house in Gloucester,

Massachusetts. And this is how I came

to catch at her; and this is how I lost her.

I cannot forgive your suicide, my mother said.

And she never could. She had my portrait

done instead.

I lived like an angry guest,

like a partly mended thing, an outgrown child.

I remember my mother did her best.

She took me to Boston and had my hair restyled.

Your smile is like your mother’s, the artist said.

I didn’t seem to care. I had my portrait

done instead.

There was a church where I grew up

with its white cupboards where they locked us up,

row by row, like puritans or shipmates

singing together. My father passed the plate.

Too late to be forgiven now, the witches said.

I wasn’t exactly forgiven. They had my portrait

done instead.

All that summer sprinklers arched

over the seaside grass.

We talked of drought

while the salt-parched

field grew sweet again. To help time pass

I tried to mow the lawn

and in the morning I had my portrait done,

holding my smile in place, till it grew formal.

Once I mailed you a picture of a rabbit

and a postcard of Motif number one,

as if it were normal

to be a mother and be gone.

They hung my portrait in the chill

north light, matching

me to keep me well.

Only my mother grew ill.

She turned from me, as if death were catching,

as if death transferred,

as if my dying had eaten inside of her.

That August you were two, but I timed my days with doubt.

On the first of September she looked at me

and said I gave her cancer.

They carved her sweet hills out

and still I couldn’t answer.

That winter she came

part way back

from her sterile suite

of doctors, the seasick

cruise of the X-ray,

the cells’ arithmetic

gone wild. Surgery incomplete,

the fat arm, the prognosis poor, I heard

them say.

During the sea blizzards

she had her

own portrait painted.

A cave of mirror

placed on the south wall;

matching smile, matching contour.

And you resembled me; unacquainted

with my face, you wore it. But you were mine

after all.

I wintered in Boston,

childless bride,

nothing sweet to spare

with witches at my side.

I missed your babyhood,

tried a second suicide,

tried the sealed hotel a second year.

On April Fool you fooled me. We laughed and this

was good.

I checked out for the last time

on the first of May;

graduate of the mental cases,

with my analyst’s okay,

my complete book of rhymes,

my typewriter and my suitcases.

All that summer I learned life

back into my own

seven rooms, visited the swan boats,

the market, answered the phone,

served cocktails as a wife

should, made love among my petticoats

and August tan. And you came each

weekend. But I lie.

You seldom came. I just pretended

you, small piglet, butterfly

girl with jelly bean cheeks,

disobedient three, my splendid

stranger. And I had to learn

why I would rather

die than love, how your innocence

would hurt and how I gather

guilt like a young intern

his symptoms, his certain evidence.

That October day we went

to Gloucester the red hills

reminded me of the dry red fur fox

coat I played in as a child; stock-still

like a bear or a tent,

like a great cave laughing or a red fur fox.

We drove past the hatchery,

the hut that sells bait,

past Pigeon Cove, past the Yacht Club, past Squall’s

Hill, to the house that waits

still, on the top of the sea,

and two portraits hung on the opposite walls.

In north light, my smile is held in place,

the shadow marks my bone.

What could I have been dreaming as I sat there,

all of me waiting in the eyes, the zone

of the smile, the young face,

the foxes’ snare.

In south light, her smile is held in place,

her cheeks wilting like a dry

orchid; my mocking mirror, my overthrown

love, my first image. She eyes me from that face,

that stony head of death

I had outgrown.

The artist caught us at the turning;

we smiled in our canvas home

before we chose our foreknown separate ways.

The dry red fur fox coat was made for burning.

I rot on the wall, my own

Dorian Gray.

And this was the cave of the mirror,

that double woman who stares

at herself, as if she were petrified

in time — two ladies sitting in umber chairs.

You kissed your grandmother

and she cried.

I could not get you back

except for weekends. You came

each time, clutching the picture of a rabbit

that I had sent you. For the last time I unpack

your things. We touch from habit.

The first visit you asked my name.

Now you stay for good. I will forget

how we bumped away from each other like marionettes

on strings. It wasn’t the same

as love, letting weekends contain

us. You scrape your knee. You learn my name,

wobbling up the sidewalk, calling and crying.

You call me mother and I remember my mother again,

somewhere in greater Boston, dying.

I remember we named you Joyce

so we could call you Joy.

You came like an awkward guest

that first time, all wrapped and moist

and strange at my heavy breast.

I needed you. I didn’t want a boy,

only a girl, a small milky mouse

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kidsviral-blog · 6 years

Text

21 Ordinary Things That You Can Make Extraordinary With Metallic Spray Paint

New Post has been published on https://kidsviral.info/21-ordinary-things-that-you-can-make-extraordinary-with-metallic-spray-paint/

21 Ordinary Things That You Can Make Extraordinary With Metallic Spray Paint

While scrolling through pages and pages of shiny, pretty things on Z Gallerie’s website one day and wondering which of my organs I could part with to afford them, I noticed a trend.

The stuff that usually catches my eye is shiny, metallic, and just reflective enough for me to see my own crying face as my money disappears right before my eyes. Pleasant! Fortunately for me and everyone else in my boat that’s usually floating on a sea of human tears, online crafters are here to save the day once again. With a few cans of metallic spray paint, you can seriously up the glam factor in your home without defaulting on your mortgage.

1. Hey, I can afford branches. So can you! Rummage through your yard, slap on some gold spray paint, and put these babies in a vase that you probably stole from your grandma’s house.

Weddingomania

2. You’re about to get your friends feeling nice and twisted when they see that you’re so fancy, you gild your pears.

Chris Loves Julia

If you follow the link above, you can also get some insight into which metallic paints are the best!

3. Does anyone else hoard Mason jars? Give them new life with some silver metallic spray paint!

Landeelu

4. Speaking of jars, this makeover is basically the best thing I’ve ever seen.

Ka Styles

5. Use spray paint to take that antique table from drab to fab in mere minutes!

Craftionary

6. Once the kiddos grow up, give that old magnetic alphabet a seriously glam upgrade.

Inspired by Charm

7. Make party decorations with gold spray paint and straws that are way cuter (and way cheaper) than anything you’d find at the craft store.

Oleander + Palm

8. Repurpose coffee cans with a touch of copper to create the most adorable herb planters of all time.

Homey Oh My

9. Not into the red and green Christmas motif? Me neither. Give decorations a heaping helping of luxury by gilding them up, girl.

Brit + Co

10. If you’re feeling extra (which is my default setting), show your fan no glittering mercy.

Better Homes and Gardens

11. No money for new chairs? No problem. Spray your old ones into shiny oblivion.

Room of Karma

12. Use stencils to create geometric designs on coasters for a modern touch.

Aftcra

13. Paint your hangers if you’re stuck using a free-standing clothing rack in lieu of a closet.

PLAZA Interior

14. I can’t be the only one who decorates with candles that’ll never, ever see a flame. Create a sweet ombre effect to make them next-level gorgeous.

Oleander + Palm

15. Take the brick you usually use to smash open your piggy bank when it’s rent time and spray paint it gold to make a sick bookend (that you can still use for the piggy bank situation if need be).

So Simpatico

16. Pick up some little toys from the dollar store, glue them to jar lids, and paint them to give your desk storage a facelift.

Sayeh Pezeshki

17. Upcycle all those wine bottles you’ve collected since you started drinking your feelings.

Wedding Chicks

18. Rubbermaid drawers are awesome. You know what else they are? Hideous. Make them less hideous so you can live like a packrat in style.

Scottsdale Moms Blog

19. You could pay $40 and six kidneys for gold mugs from Anthropologie, or you could make them yourself.

One Broad’s Journey

20. Ditch glass gems and fill your vases with painted beans. Coffee and pinto beans should do the trick!

Pinterest / Heather Shaw

21. Steal a few landscaping pebbles that your neighbor probably paid good money for, whip out some spray paint, and make everyone jealous of your chic centerpiece.

Chica Circle

I don’t know about you, but I’m about to get my Midas on. If you give any of these projects a try, let us know in the comments!

Nothing in my apartment is safe. Nothing.

Read more: http://www.viralnova.com/metallic-makeover/

#art #crafts #culture #diy-home #diy-home-decor #easy-art #easy-crafts #easy-diy #home-crafts #home-decor #home-hacks #life #luxury #madeline-distasio #metal #simple-diy #spray-paint

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bovendigul · 7 years

Text

The Double Image

1. I am thirty this November. You are still small, in your fourth year. We stand watching the yellow leaves go queer, flapping in the winter rain, falling flat and washed. And I remember mostly the three autumns you did not live here. They said I’d never get you back again. I tell you what you’ll never really know: all the medical hypothesis that explained my brain will never be as true as these struck leaves letting go. I, who chose two times to kill myself, had said your nickname the mewling months when you first came; until a fever rattled in your throat and I moved like a pantomime above your head. Ugly angels spoke to me. The blame, I heard them say, was mine. They tattled like green witches in my head, letting doom leak like a broken faucet; as if doom had flooded my belly and filled your bassinet, an old debt I must assume. Death was simpler than I’d thought. The day life made you well and whole I let the witches take away my guilty soul. I pretended I was dead until the white men pumped the poison out, putting me armless and washed through the rigamarole of talking boxes and the electric bed. I laughed to see the private iron in that hotel. Today the yellow leaves go queer. You ask me where they go. I say today believed in itself, or else it fell. Today, my small child, Joyce, love your self’s self where it lives. There is no special God to refer to; or if there is, why did I let you grow in another place. You did not know my voice when I came back to call. All the superlatives of tomorrow’s white tree and mistletoe will not help you know the holidays you had to miss. The time I did not love myself, I visited your shoveled walks; you held my glove. There was new snow after this. 2. They sent me letters with news of you and I made moccasins that I would never use. When I grew well enough to tolerate myself, I lived with my mother. Too late, too late, to live with your mother, the witches said. But I didn’t leave. I had my portrait done instead. Part way back from Bedlam I came to my mother’s house in Gloucester, Massachusetts. And this is how I came to catch at her; and this is how I lost her. I cannot forgive your suicide, my mother said. And she never could. She had my portrait done instead. I lived like an angry guest, like a partly mended thing, an outgrown child. I remember my mother did her best. She took me to Boston and had my hair restyled. Your smile is like your mother’s, the artist said. I didn’t seem to care. I had my portrait done instead. There was a church where I grew up with its white cupboards where they locked us up, row by row, like puritans or shipmates singing together. My father passed the plate. Too late to be forgiven now, the witches said. I wasn’t exactly forgiven. They had my portrait done instead. 3. All that summer sprinklers arched over the seaside grass. We talked of drought while the salt-parched field grew sweet again. To help time pass I tried to mow the lawn and in the morning I had my portrait done, holding my smile in place, till it grew formal. Once I mailed you a picture of a rabbit and a postcard of Motif number one, as if it were normal to be a mother and be gone. They hung my portrait in the chill north light, matching me to keep me well. Only my mother grew ill. She turned from me, as if death were catching, as if death transferred, as if my dying had eaten inside of her. That August you were two, but I timed my days with doubt. On the first of September she looked at me and said I gave her cancer. They carved her sweet hills out and still I couldn’t answer. 4. That winter she came part way back from her sterile suite of doctors, the seasick cruise of the X-ray, the cells’ arithmetic gone wild. Surgery incomplete, the fat arm, the prognosis poor, I heard them say. During the sea blizzards she had here own portrait painted. A cave of mirror placed on the south wall; matching smile, matching contour. And you resembled me; unacquainted with my face, you wore it. But you were mine after all. I wintered in Boston, childless bride, nothing sweet to spare with witches at my side. I missed your babyhood, tried a second suicide, tried the sealed hotel a second year. On April Fool you fooled me. We laughed and this was good. 5. I checked out for the last time on the first of May; graduate of the mental cases, with my analyst’s okay, my complete book of rhymes, my typewriter and my suitcases. All that summer I learned life back into my own seven rooms, visited the swan boats, the market, answered the phone, served cocktails as a wife should, made love among my petticoats and August tan. And you came each weekend. But I lie. You seldom came. I just pretended you, small piglet, butterfly girl with jelly bean cheeks, disobedient three, my splendid stranger. And I had to learn why I would rather die than love, how your innocence would hurt and how I gather guilt like a young intern his symptoms, his certain evidence. That October day we went to Gloucester the red hills reminded me of the dry red fur fox coat I played in as a child; stock-still like a bear or a tent, like a great cave laughing or a red fur fox. We drove past the hatchery, the hut that sells bait, past Pigeon Cove, past the Yacht Club, past Squall’s Hill, to the house that waits still, on the top of the sea, and two portraits hung on the opposite walls. 6. In north light, my smile is held in place, the shadow marks my bone. What could I have been dreaming as I sat there, all of me waiting in the eyes, the zone of the smile, the young face, the foxes’ snare. In south light, her smile is held in place, her cheeks wilting like a dry orchid; my mocking mirror, my overthrown love, my first image. She eyes me from that face, that stony head of death I had outgrown. The artist caught us at the turning; we smiled in our canvas home before we chose our foreknown separate ways. The dry red fur fox coat was made for burning. I rot on the wall, my own Dorian Gray. And this was the cave of the mirror, that double woman who stares at herself, as if she were petrified in time — two ladies sitting in umber chairs. You kissed your grandmother and she cried. 7. I could not get you back except for weekends. You came each time, clutching the picture of a rabbit that I had sent you. For the last time I unpack your things. We touch from habit. The first visit you asked my name. Now you stay for good. I will forget how we bumped away from each other like marionettes on strings. It wasn’t the same as love, letting weekends contain us. You scrape your knee. You learn my name, wobbling up the sidewalk, calling and crying. You call me mother and I remember my mother again, somewhere in greater Boston, dying. I remember we named you Joyce so we could call you Joy. You came like an awkward guest that first time, all wrapped and moist and strange at my heavy breast. I needed you. I didn’t want a boy, only a girl, a small milky mouse of a girl, already loved, already loud in the house of herself. We named you Joy. I, who was never quite sure about being a girl, needed another life, another image to remind me. And this was my worst guilt; you could not cure nor soothe it. I made you to find me.

Anne Sexton

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