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39hystericalqueens · 4 years

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It’s A Hard Life (Brian May x Reader) Chapter 2

This series was written alongside a companion playlist. Each song on the playlist is related to a certain scene or moment within the story and while this fic can 100% be read without the playlist, it adds so much to the story to listen along as you read. Throughout this series, you will see numbers in parentheses within the text. Each number corresponds to a track on the playlist. For example, if you saw: (1), this would mean play the first track on the playlist before continuing on reading. Some of the songs serve to set the mood, some correspond with a song that is actually playing in the story, and some tell part of the story better than I can and so they help to drive the plot. I will say again that you don’t need the playlist to understand and enjoy this fic but I strongly recommend at least checking it out.

MASTERLIST

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Warnings: Some mild cursing

A/N: Wow what a long break I took from posting any sort of update to this fic. I have been writing a lot in this time and have a decent portion of this story complete to post. I know hardly anyone (if even that) follows this fic especially now that I basically abandoned it for a little while there, but hopefully someone might find it interesting and enjoyable to read. Either way, please enjoy chapter 2!

Word Count: 4.8k

October 1969

The next morning you awoke with a smile on your face. You weren’t quite sure why until the memories of the night before started coming back to you. Dancing to great music, running into Roger again, and that mystery of a guitarist: Brian. He was just as intriguing this morning as he was last night. A part of you wished you had asked Roger or Tim where he was, but you supposed it was too late now, and as you pulled yourself out of bed and into the world you tried to push the thought of him out of your mind.

After a full day of classes, which, as per usual, were long and exhausting, you found yourself at work. On Wednesdays you worked from 6 until closing at midnight. Today you had decided to actually be productive and while you waited for another customer to come through the door you worked on your composition assignment. You had two weeks to write the first movement of a sonata in the correct form, but as much as you tried, you just couldn’t get the development to sound the way you wanted it to. You sat focused behind the counter, lost in the world of themes and dominant keys, when the bell over the door jingled. You looked up and to your complete surprise saw Brian standing there. He looked almost exactly as he had the night before. Same untamed hair, same look of concentration, and when he saw you at the desk, he flashed the same small smile as last night.

“Welcome to Selmer’s,” you started your preprogrammed greeting, but then decided to take a risk, “I suppose you’ll be needing some new guitar strings?”

As Brian looked up to see who had just spoken, he was met with the sight of what he thought was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. You sat perched up on the stool behind the counter, pieces of staff paper spread around you, and a pencil in your hand, and even though he knew he was staring he just couldn’t look away. That was, until he realized what you had just said to him.

“Yeah I-- wait, how did you know that?” Brian said, utterly confused.

His speaking voice was just as light and sweet as his singing voice.

“Lucky guess?”

He chuckled, accepting your answer, but not fully certain that he believed you.

“Something tells me that you don’t use Fender strings,” you continued, “so, what can I get for you?”

“Wow you’re good, uh I use RotoSound 8 gauges.”

“A fine choice. I don’t play guitar myself but I’ve heard from a lot of my customers that they give you a really nice sound. A lot of people tell me that they find Fender strings too abrasive.”

When you mentioned this you saw him raise a questioning eyebrow.

“Wow that’s really funny that you would mention that,” he said, “Last night I was just telling the drummer in the band I’m in that the Fender strings make my sound real abrasive.”

“Lemme guess: you broke some of your strings, didn’t have any extras on hand, sent your drummer to go and get some while you finished setting up, he brought you the wrong ones, you played a show with an abrasive sounding guitar, and now you’re here buying the right strings.”

When you finished talking you couldn’t help but laugh at the look of absolute shock and disbelief that was across Brian’s face. He truly didn’t know what to say.

“How on earth did you know all of that?”

You smiled, finally deciding to let him off the hook.

“Your drummer Roger came running in here yesterday right before closing looking for your guitar strings, only he had no idea which strings to buy so I gave him your basic 12 gauges...”

Brian shook his head in disbelief.

“I told him specifically which strings to buy, I even went so far as to write it down but he insisted that he knew what he was doing. I’m never letting him buy gear for me again.”

“If it makes you feel better he did seem to be quite distraught about it when he came in. Nearly knocked down my door rushing inside.”

“Well I suppose that does make it slightly better, but you still haven’t told me how you knew I was upset about the strings.”

“Right, forgot about that. So my friend Freddie has been following this band called Smile around for quite some time,”

At the mention of the band’s name Brian smiled as he started to piece the story together.

“And he’s been on me for ages to come out to one of their shows, so last night I finally did, and as I get there and see the band walk onstage, who would be sitting behind the drum kit but Roger. I went round back after the show was over with Fred to see Roger and Tim but you weren’t there.”

“I was off taking those awful strings off of my guitar,” he said, “but now I wish I had been there to meet you.”

As he said that you felt your heart flutter in your chest once again.

“Me too, but I’m glad I’ve met you now.”

“Will I be seeing you again?”

“Yeah I hope so,” you said, giving him a small smile that he returned even more so. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

Once again, he smiled. “I’m Brian.”

And with that, you handed him the package of strings, letting your hands linger for a second as they brushed against his, before giving him one last grin as he walked out the door.

(4)

_____

It had been one week since your run-in with the guitarist and all you seemed to be able to think about was when you would be able to see him again. You tried not to let it distract you from your life too much, but as you and Freddie walked home after classes that afternoon it proved to be difficult.

“...and then I said to Tim-- Y/N, are you even listening to me?”

You broke yourself out of the haze of your unintentional daydream.

“Yes! Sorry Fred, I just zoned out there for a moment.”

“Well bring yourself back because I’m about to tell the best part of the story. So I was saying to Tim that maybe we should just give up on trying to find a flat for all of us because there is literally nothing available in our area and he agreed with me. So just when we were about to call Brian and Roger and tell them, we get a call from Roger saying that he found us a place to live!”

“That’s great!” You said, “where is the place?”

“That’s the best part, it’s right down the street from Ealing where we rent out the practice rooms which means it’s right down the street from your place. And don’t worry, we won’t be at your door bothering you all day and stealing your food.”

You laugh slightly.

“Yes you will.”

“You’re right we probably will, but we’ll be pleasant company I assure you.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Excellent! We’re set to move in this weekend and we’d love to have the help.”

“Sure thing,” you said, “just tell me what time to be there.”

_____

Move in day came bright and early on Saturday morning. You were up at 5 to take a cab over to Freddie’s flat on the other side of the neighborhood. When you arrived you found that he had already been up for 2 hours, finishing off last minute packing and piling boxes and a few pieces of furniture into the small truck he had rented.

“Don’t you think the truck might have been a little overkill?” you said, looking at its mostly empty interior, “I mean you don’t exactly have that much stuff to bring.”

“Oh trust me darling, I know. The truck isn’t just for me, we’re stopping by Roger’s place to load his things in here as well. Then Tim and Brian are meeting us there.”

You nodded in understanding.

“So, what can I do to help?”

“If you can grab the last few boxes from upstairs and bring them down here that would be great. And then come and help me lift this chair into the truck.” He said, gesturing at a very old and worn looking armchair sitting on the curb.

“Roger that,” you said, and headed up the stairs.

A half hour later the two of you had successfully loaded all of Freddie’s things into the truck and were driving away down to Roger’s place.

Roger lived another several blocks away, even farther away from you than Freddie, in a tiny one room flat on the top floor of the building. He had not yet started the process of luging his boxes down the five flights of stairs that he had so graciously forgotten to mention when he asked Freddie for help the other day.

“Roger...I’m...going...to kill...you,” you pant as you make your fourth trip down the stairs, two boxes balanced in your arms.

“C’mon,” he said, “if I had told you about the stairs you would never have agreed to come and help me.”

“And you’d have been right,” interjected Freddie who was standing at the bottom of the stairwell, leaning against the wall, and fanning his face profusely. “Is that the last of it?”

“Thankfully yes,” you said, as you made your way out to the truck and hoisted the boxes inside. Roger followed suit, and finally you were able to pull the door down.

“Wonderful!” said Freddie, “next stop: our new home!”

It was nearly 3 o’clock when you three pulled up in front of the boy’s new building. Brian and Tim were sitting outside on the steps waiting for you.

“Well it’s about damn time,” said Tim, “you guys were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

“We were a bit, delayed,” you said, looking directly at Roger. Brian gave a small snort under his breath.

“Oh come on, you guys are so dramatic. So we’re a little late, it’s not like we’re meeting the Queen or anything.”

You and Freddie collectively rolled your eyes.

“Now let’s hurry up and unpack.”

Compared to the amount of effort it had taken you to pack up Freddie and Roger’s flats, unpacking them was a breeze. Their new building had an elevator and their flat was right next door.

“Wow you guys, this is a really nice place,” you said as you walked through the door, “how did you find this place again, Roger?”

“Funny story really, I was talking to this broad at a coffee shop the other day and I guess I mentioned how my mates and I were looking for a new place to live that was central in the city. Well it turns out that her grandmother is moving to Manchester and has been trying to sell her flat for ages.”

“Ages? A place like this is every Londoner’s dream, why couldn’t she sell it?”

“Well she wasn't exactly going about it in the most conventional way. They had to sit her down and explain that walking down the street and asking people if they would like to buy your flat isn’t the most effective or appreciated form of advertisement.”

“Yeah not appreciated unless you’re four broke blokes like us in which case she was so desperate to sell it we paid next to nothing for it,” said Tim, setting down a large box. “I think this is almost all of it, there’s just one box left in the truck.

“I’ll go and get it,” said Brian, standing up.

“It’s pretty heavy, you’ll need two people to lift it,” said Tim.

“I’ll go with you,” you said quickly, making your way to the door and holding it open for him. As you walked into the hallway you caught Freddie looking at you with a sly look across his face.

There was a slightly awkward silence as you two walked down the stairs. Finally you spoke up.

“So uh, how’ve you been since I saw you at the store?”

“Oh um I’ve been alright. I’ve had a lot of work for school and all so I’ve been pretty focused on that. I think Roger already told you that I’m studying astrophysics, but I don’t want to bore you talking about it.”

“No I’d love to hear about it! What are you working on right now?”

“Well,” he said, his face lighting up, “the main thing that’s been eating up all my time is this paper we were assigned on the Hertzsprung-Russell Diagram. Basically it’s a scatter plot of stars that shows the relationship between the stars’ luminosity or brightness and its temperature. We’re meant to cover its history and creation, the functions of the diagram, and its importance in the advancement of the field. It’s an insane amount of information to cover and I’ve only got two weeks to write it.”

“That sounds really interesting,” you say, “I’m not usually one for maths and science but from the way you talk about it I’m actually interested to hear more about it.”

“You’re welcome to read my paper when it’s done if you’d like.”

“I might just take you up on that offer,” you said, smiling.

“So that’s what I’ve been up to,” he said, “what about you? You’re over at Ealing studying music, right?”

“Yep, working hard to start my career as a starving artist,” you said sarcastically. “Jokes aside though I have been quite busy as well. I’ve got a recital coming up next week so I’ve been locked in a practice room all this week.”

“Wow, that sounds really stressful.”

“It’s not too bad, this one just counts for a completion grade. The real stressors are the midterm and final recitals. Those are killer.”

“Well stressful or not I’m sure you’ll do amazing. I would love to hear you play sometime,” he added. He had been wanting to hear you play ever since Freddie had told him you played the flute, but he hoped he wasn’t being too pushy.

“Would you like to come to the recital?” you said, “it’s this Tuesday at 2.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose or anything you know since we sort of just met each other.”

“Nonsense, I would love it if you came! In fact, I want you to. It would be so nice to have someone cheering me on in the audience. Freddie and Tim usually have classes that conflict so I’m normally playing to a crowd of strangers.”

“Well I’ll be there right in the front row, and I’ll clap louder than anyone else in the room,” he said, and you couldn’t help but blush.

“You know I just remembered that we came down here for a reason,” you said, looking towards the truck where the last box was still sitting.”

“Oh yeah,” he said, “we should probably get that upstairs before they start to worry that we’ve been hit by a car or something.”

Together the two of you lifted the box up and out of the truck and into the building. Tim hadn’t been lying when he said the box was heavy. Even with the two of you, it was quite the struggle to carry it up to the flat.

“Jesus Christ, what’s in here, a load of rocks?” you said as the elevator reached their floor.

“I think it might be all our amps and sound stuff. You can tell that Roger packed this box because any sane person would have split them up between several boxes to keep the weight down.”

At last you made it into the flat, ridiculously heavy box and all.

“I wasn’t expecting to get that much of a workout in today,” you said, “next time make it a little heavier why don’t you.”

Ignoring your comment, Freddie said, “Well you two were gone a long time weren’t you,” he eyed you suspiciously.

“Yeah it took a lot of effort to carry that box,” you answer, “I need to go and get some water or something.”

You headed into the kitchen and Freddie followed behind you, closing the door.

“Alright spill it, it did not take you twenty minutes to carry a box from the truck into an elevator,” he said.

“I mean we talked for a little bit while we were down there, but I don’t see why-”

“Let’s skip over the part where you try and dance around the facts. You so obviously have a thing for Brian!”

At his comment you felt your stomach drop slightly.

“What?! No I don’t!”

“Oh come on Lucy, I wasn’t born yesterday. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring at him, hanging on to his every word, and you volunteered to go with him to get that box so quickly I don’t think he had even finished his sentence.”

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you said, “can’t I just like being around someone?”

“Of course you can, but that’s not what’s going on here. You like him, it’s so obvious.”

“You’re way off, Fred.”

As he gave you an exasperated look you felt some level of panic rise in you.

“If I liked Brian then why do I have a date set for this weekend? Hm?”

You’re not sure why you said it. It was a complete lie, you hadn’t been on a date in months nor did you have any interest in going on one now, but you had already committed to this story and if Fred found out you were bluffing you would never hear the end of it.

“Really?” said Freddie, skepticism in his voice, “you have a date?”

“Yep, Saturday night.”

“With who?”

Shit.

“Uh just some guy from my composition class,” then you added hastily, “you don’t know him.”

“No of course I don’t,” said Freddie, “but I’d love to meet him! Why don’t you have him pick you up at your flat so I can be there to say hello?”

You could tell that he saw right through you, but you were too far down this road to back out.

“Yeah um, ok sure. I’ll let him know.”

“Excellent!”

And with that Freddie left the kitchen, leaving you to realize what you had just gotten yourself into.

Well shit, now I’ve got to find a date. Great. Who the hell am I supposed to even ask?

______

The next day you ended up asking out a guy named Trey who sat behind you in composition class. He seemed really excited which made you feel even worse about the whole thing as you knew you would have to let him down after the one date. Saturday arrived all too soon and at a quarter to seven Freddie showed up at your door.

“Alright so where is this lad you have so graciously charmed?” he said, a devilish smile on his face.

“He should be here any minute.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. You opened it and there stood Trey, shifting nervously on his feet with a meek smile on his face. You could already tell that this was going to be painful. Before you could say anything, Freddie showed up right behind you to look at Trey.

“Hello darling, I’m Freddie, Y/N’s friend, I was just stopping by to see her off before your big date! I’ve got to say, when Y/N told me she had a date this weekend I didn’t believe her because, well, she’s not usually the type, but you two look oh so cute together, I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of you in the future!”

You could have killed him. You knew exactly what he was doing, and he had won, so now you were stuck still having to go on this date with the knowledge that Freddie would be waiting at your home to confront you when you got back.

“Don’t mind him, Trey,” you said, “Freddie can get a little over-invested in my life sometimes. Shall we?”

And with that the two of you walked out the door, but not before you looked over your shoulder to shoot Freddie a death glare to which he responded with a look of mock confusion.

To say the date was awkward would have been an understatement. It was clear that Trey didn’t pick up on how uncomfortable you were, or if he did, he didn’t mention it. You somehow stumbled your way through dinner and then a movie. By the end of the night though, you had just about reached the end of your rope as on the cab ride back to your flat he kept going on and on about how much he loved the movie you went to see.

“And I just thought the ending was so brilliant,” he said, “the way they brought the two story lines together, I didn’t even see that coming!”

“Yeah it was good,” you said, half-heartedly. The cab pulled up to the curb. “Well, this is me.”

“Let me walk you up, then we can say a proper goodbye,” he said.

“Alright,” you said.

As expected, Freddie was there waiting for you when you got back. He sat on your sofa, sipping on a glass of wine, as you and Trey said your goodbyes.

“I had a really nice time tonight, Y/N,” he said, “I’d love to do it again soon.”

“Um, yeah maybe,” you said, mentally kicking yourself as the words came out of your mouth. Why couldn’t you just say no? There was a moment of silence and then he leaned in to give you an awkward kiss on the cheek before saying one last goodnight.

Once he was gone you walked around to the sofa and collapsed into it, eyes closed.

“Well,” said Freddie, “that really was something. I think you and this Trey character could have a real future together. You seem to get along swimmingly and not to mention he’s quite handsome.”

“Alright! Alright Fred, you win! I may have a bit of a crush on Brian.”

______

It was Tuesday morning, the morning of your recital, and Brian found himself wandering through the halls of the Ealing music school, looking for the recital hall. As he rounded what he swore was the same corner he passed ten minutes ago he saw that a group of students had shown up and were talking rather loudly. He was about to turn around and continue his search when he heard something that grabbed his attention.

“So you know Y/N, the girl who sits behind me in composition, well she asked me out on Saturday to the movies.”

“Oh dude no way!”

“Yeah and it was completely out of the blue. I mean I never would have guessed that she had a thing for me, but we had a great time. She said she would want to go out again.”

Brian, who had been standing behind the corner, felt his heart drop when he heard this. He hadn’t really told anyone, but from the moment he met you he had been wanting to ask you out, he just hadn’t figured out how. He thought you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, both inside and out, and wanted nothing more than to be around you all the time. He was rather shy by nature and typically didn’t take a chance if he wasn’t entirely certain of the outcome, but after talking with you on moving day he had thought that maybe, just maybe, you felt the same way. He knew of course that he had no right to be upset, you could obviously date whoever you wanted, but he couldn’t help but feel crestfallen knowing that you weren’t going to be anything more than friends.

(5)

Checking his watch, Brian realized that it was ten minutes before your recital was set to start and he still had no idea where he was going. Realizing that it was his only option, he turned to the group of guys.

“Hi, I’m looking for the recital hall? Do you happen to know where that is?”

The boy who had been talking about his date with Y/N turned around to look at Brian.

“Yeah mate it’s just around that corner there and then take a left and it’ll be the set of double doors on your right.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Do you go here?”

There was no contempt in his voice but at his question Brian couldn’t help but feel as though he was accusing him of something.

“No,” he said apprehensively, “I’m actually here to see a friend perform.”

“Who do you know?”

“Um, Y/N... Y/N Y/L/N? Do you know her?” He grimaced internally at his question, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah, she’s in my composition class. She’s real sweet, incredibly talented too.”

“Yeah I know,” said Brian, a little too quickly, “thanks for the directions.”

“Anytime,” he said, “I’m Trey by the way.”

“Brian.”

“Nice to meet you, Brian. And hey, wish Y/N good luck from me. I’ve got a class in ten minutes so I can’t go and see her play.”

“Yeah sure thing,” said Brian monotonously, as he turned to walk back down the hallway.

As much as Brian wanted to hate Trey, he knew he really couldn’t. He seemed nice enough, cared enough about Y/N’s life to know that he was missing her performance, and he had given him accurate directions. Brian found his way to the recital hall in no time, picking himself out a seat right in the front row. The turnout was what you might expect from a midday, midweek, student recital. The back of the hall was filled with students kicked back in their seats and glancing lazily at the clock every other minute, mostly likely forced to attend as part of their grade. The middle was quite sparsely populated with what looked like a few family members and friends scattered throughout, and the front was almost completely empty with the exception of four rather stern-looking people who Brian assumed were Y/N’s professors, and of course now him. He hadn’t been to see a classical performance in ages. His mother used to take him all the time to go and see the London Symphony when he was younger, but after starting secondary school and then uni and devoting all his time to his studies and his guitar he had stopped going. Now, sitting in the icebox of a theatre, he couldn’t help but feel like he didn’t belong.

A few minutes later, the performance began. It was a woodwind only recital so Brian sat through two clarinets, a saxophone, three oboes, and a bassoon, before it was your turn. When you finally walked onstage, Brian kept his promise and applauded so loudly that one of the professors turned to see where it was coming from. He didn’t care though, he couldn’t wait to hear you play. As you made your way over to the music stand you flashed Brian a smile, and he felt as though he was walking on air. God, he thought you were just perfect standing up there, completely in control of that stage. He wanted to run up the steps and hug you, kiss you, to tell you how much he adored you. How you should be with him and not Trey, but then you began to play and he was snapped back into reality. He didn’t recognize the piece, but it didn’t matter. Your sound carried through the hall with such vibrancy and clarity, and your fingers danced across the keys effortlessly. You made it look so easy, each movement more beautiful than the last.

(6)

As you brought the last movement to a close, Brian stood up and gave you a standing ovation. You knew it was overkill of him, but as you watched him fill the room with thunderous applause you couldn’t help but smile. You took your bows and with one more look at Brian, made your way offstage.

Twenty minutes later, the recital had come to a close. The last few flutes had performed but to Brian they paled in comparison to you. After a quick word with your professor and some scattered congratulations and compliments to your fellow performers, you made your way out into the audience. You saw Brian standing near the back, beaming as you half walked half ran up the stairs to him.

“So, what did you think?” you said, “it didn’t bore you too much I hope.”

“Are you kidding? Y/N, that was incredible!”

You blushed.

“I mean I knew you played well and everything, but that was just so beautiful. It was like you were singing through your flute, you’ve got a real talent.”

“You’re so sweet, you know that?” you said as you pulled him in for a hug, “what did I ever do to deserve a friend like you?”

Friend, Brian thought to himself, that’s all he would ever be to you.

Taglist: @peter-sue-the-management @borhapqueen92

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slxyangel · 5 years

Text

Unspoken (Tommy Lee x Reader)

Summary: The conversation you had most dreaded had finally arrived, and the outcome was going to be ugly, at the very least.

Wordcount: 2.6k

Warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of violence, literally the SMALLEST mentions of sex, fluffy ending.

A/N: Nothing really. Just don’t judge too hard, I’m new, and English isn’t my first language. Enjoy :)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

Masterlist: https://slxyangel.tumblr.com/post/189625800403/masterlist

The vase flew across the room as flowers and water were scattered all over the floor. It hit the wall right next to Tommy’s head. Shit, that was close.

- WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?

- IT MEANS EXACTLY WHAT I SAID, YOU FUCKING HYSTERICAL BITCH- Tommy yelled, with his eyes wide open and his index finger pointing at you - AND STOP THROWING THINGS AT ME.

- I WOULD IF YOU WEREN’T BEHAVING LIKE AN ABSOLUTE DOUCHEBAG - you said as you grabbed a book and threw it in his direction. This time, it hit him on the stomach.Tommy caught the book right before it fell and walked towards you in two impressively long steps, only to grab your wrists before you had the time to throw him the ashtray you were already holding.

- YOU SERIOUSLY NEED TO CALM THE FUCK DOWN Y/N.

- ARE YOU REALLY TELLING ME TO CALM DOWN?? - you argued, unsuccessfully trying to escape from his grip - REALLY??? AFTER WHAT HAPPENED IN YOUR HOUSE???

- IT’S NOT THAT BIG OF A DEAL!!!

- BUT IT IS!!! YOUR PARENTS LITERALLY SPENT HALF AN HOUR SHOWING ME PICTURES OF YOUR EX THAT THEY, FOR SOME REASON, KEEP IN AN ALBUM, REMINDING ME HOW BEAUTIFUL SHE WAS, HOW HAPPY YOU TWO WERE TOGETHER AND HOW MUCH THEY GOT ALONG WITH HER.

- OH MY GOD, AGAIN? THAT HAPPENED A MILLION YEARS AGO. IT’S FORGOTTEN. I AM WITH YOU NOW, I LOVE YOU. SARAH IS OVER, YOU KNOW IT.

- YEAH I SURE AS HELL DO - you yelled back, filled with rage and built-up anger. Your hands were finally free, so you were gesticulating a lot while you spoke - BUT APPARENTLY YOUR MOTHER DOESN’T. SHE FUCKING HATES ME! SHE ALWAYS DID! SHE ONLY SEES ME AS “THE OTHER ONE”, “THE ONE HE’LL EVENTUALLY GET TIRED OF”, “THE WHORE”, “THE GRRRROUPIE” WITH A LOT OF R’S - you said, mimicking her accent - WHEN THAT IS NOT EVEN TRUE. AND WHAT DO I HAVE TO COPE WITH WHEN I GET HOME FROM AN EVENING WITH PEOPLE THAT DESPISE ME SO BAD? EXACTLY! A BOYFRIEND WHO PROJECTS ALL HIS ISSUES ON ME AND COMPARES THIS CRAP WITH THE FACT THAT MY OWN MOTHER ONCE SAID “Oh, you have tattoos” THE DAY SHE MET HIM.

- OH NO NO NO NO - Tommy interrupted - DON’T YOU DARE WALK THAT PATH. IT’S COMPLETELY DIFFERENT, YOUR MOTHER IS DISGUSTED BY ME, I CAN SEE IT, HER EYES GIVE IT AWAY. SHE HATES ME BECAUSE I’M THE DRUMMER IN A METAL BAND AND SHE CAN’T STAND THE FACT THAT HER PERFECT LITTLE DAUGHTER IS DATING A DUDE WHO WEARS MAKEUP AND LEATHER PANTS.

- WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU EVEN SAYING?? TOMMY. I. AM. A. SINGER. - You paused deliberately between each word. This was ridiculous - HOW THE HELL WAS SHE GOING TO HATE YOU FOR BEING A ROCKSTAR WHEN HER OWN DAUGHTER IS ONE? THAT DOESN’T ADD UP, DUMBASS.

- YEAH, WHATEVER YOU SAY. AT LEAST MY MOTHER IS FUCKING CONSEQUENT WITH WHAT SHE BELIEVES, UNLIKE SOME OTHER HYPOCRITES.

- SEE?? YOU JUST GOT ALL WORKED UP OUT OF NOWHERE JUST BECAUSE I TOLD YOU SOMETHING YOU DIDN’T WANT TO HEAR. YOU ARE SUCH A SPOILED LITTLE BRAT. AND DIDN’T YOU LOVE TO BRAG ABOUT YOUR PERFECT PARENTS AND YOUR PERFECT FAMILY? WELL, THE FACT THAT YOU ARE AN EGOTISTICAL CHILD WITH ANGER ISSUES IS ENTIRELY ON YOUR MOTHER, AND IF I WERE HER, I WOULDN’T EXACTLY BE PROUD OF MY ACCOMPLISHMENTS AS A PARENT.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

You had overstepped. The blatant contrast between a long while of yelling and the absolute silence that now reigned in the living room told you so. And the worst of all was that you had done it consciously.You knew how much Tommy loved his mum and how sacred their bond was to him. For this reason, you were conscious about the fact that particularly this conversation topic was some tricky business, but you couldn’t contain it anymore.

You had sensed in what ways Vassiliki was a loving mother, a caring wife and a good person in general terms. Only you didn’t feel like she acted that way towards you. From the very first time you had met her, you had been able to feel the looks of disdain she often gave you, or the slight but still noticeable shifts in her voice tone when she talked to you. You just didn’t know why. At the beginning you told yourself it was all a product of your imagination, you had been nervous for weeks before meeting Tommy’s parents, so your suggested mind could be playing tricks on you. But within time, you thought maybe it wasn’t exactly like that.

You had been avoiding to tell your boyfriend because you didn’t think it was a major drawback, and you knew how much he adored her. You didn’t want to take the role of the abducting girlfriend who sets her partner against everything and everyone important in his life, so you would just put up with the animosity until it faded away, because it eventually would, right?

That night hadn’t been particularly rough, not rougher than the others in any case, but it was the last straw. After the shitshow that was your family dinner, the ride home was rather silent. Tommy could sense something was wrong. I mean, he was oblivious, but he wasn’t dumb, so once you two got home he asked you why the attitude. After such a long night, the last thing you wanted was to fight with your boyfriend. All you needed was for him to take you upstairs, fuck you senseless and cuddle you until the planet fell from its axis. And although your head was filled with red lights and voices screaming that answering his questions would start a war, Tommy really knew how to push your buttons so, long story short, vases started flying.

And now there you were, standing in front of the love of your life, staring at him and about to deal with the consequences you yourself provoked when you couldn’t bite your tongue hard enough.Tommy was looking at you with widened eyes, a subtle frown and massive amounts of disappointment in his expression. He seemed half surprised, because he would have never expected you to say something like that, half hurt, for obvious reasons. You felt your heart shrinking a little bit just with the look on his face. You had fucked up good and proper.

- Tommy, I’m so so…

But he didn’t give you the time to finish your sentence. He swung the door open and shut it close behind him, living you with a feeling of guilt, the urge to chase after him and the certainty that doing so would be a worse solution than your accusation had been a problem. In the air, the noise of his departure and a million words unspoken.

_____________________

How could she say that? I’m serious, how could she? What kind of abrasive bile must have she had inside of her to be able to say that without even flinching. I was livid.

I am not the biggest fan of leaving problems unsolved and arguments unfinished. Issues need to be addressed and things need to be talked through. Communication is necessary, especially in a romantic relationship, because it means that you trust your partner, and that is the key to it all. It has to be. And boy I fucking know it, my life had taught me the hard way: silence equals death.

Still, even with that mantra smashing my brain like a hammer, I left my girlfriend stranded in our own house in the middle of an argument; in the middle of her sentence. But I had to. I didn’t know what else to do. In fact, I didn’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t left the way I did. I didn’t want to think about it.

I had been driving for almost two hours. My first reflect the moment I stepped out of the house was to get in my car, and since i couldn’t decide where to go in the middle of the mental storm, I would do it along the way. But I hadn’t decided anything, I just drove. Driving always made me feel relaxed; concentrating on all of the small tasks I had to synchronize helped me focus on something other than my thoughts, it gave me perspective, and that was exactly what I needed in that moment.

In fact, now that I saw it coldly, what hurted me the most wasn’t her attack. I mean, come on, we all throw low blows in the heat of an argument once in a while. Or more often than that. I have. I can understand it. But no, what worried me was how come she hadn’t told me before.

For the way she was ranting at home all those things about my mum, it didn’t seem like the problem had only existed since that very night. No, that much anger and rampage had to be coming from a long time ago. But how much? How much time had she been feeling like that, suffering in silence? Dude, I love my mother, but I better than anyone know that sometimes she can be really petty, I inherited that wonderful trait from her. So why didn’t Y/N tell me? Doesn’t she trust me enough? What did she expect me to answer, that made her scared enough to chose to bear with that pain alone? What did I do? What didn’t I do?

Shit, my head was going to explode. I was definitely going to have to face the issue at some point, and I was running out of gas, so I had two options: heading to the nearest gas station and keep wandering around, or going back home. As much as we had a huge fight, I didn’t really feel like ending up in the middle of nowhere, forced to sleep in the car, so it was going to have to be option two. Besides, I was now cold-headed enough to talk things like the adult I sometimes wish I wasn’t.

When I got home, I was received by a darkened room and a silent house. Y/N’s wallet and keys were on the table, so she mustn’t have left. Good. It was past 4 a.m, so she was probably already sleeping. Good. At least I didn’t have to confront her straight away. I turned around to close the main door, when I found a small light-yellow post-it sticked to it.

HELLO

It was Y/N’s handwriting.

In the dim light of the lamp from the hall I was able to see a few more papers sticked to the wall of the stairs in front of me. I reached for the first one and started reading the note on it.

I’M GLAD YOU CAME BACK (cause if you’re reading this it’s because you have), I HOPE YOUR TIME AWAY WAS PRODUCTIVE, OR, AT LEAST, ENJOYABLE.

Yeah, pretty much. All I did was consume the gas tank and get to zero useful conclusions, so I would say we can call that success. I went for the next post-it, climbing a few steps, since I assumed they were in order.

I DON’T KNOW IF YOU KNOW THIS, BUT I’M GONNA TELL YOU JUST IN CASE. I LOVE YOU MORE THAN I HAVE EVER LOVED ANYONE IN MY LIFE, TOMMY, SO MUCH IT PHYSICALLY HURTS.

Oh. Well, this wasn’t exactly new, but reading the verbalized, inked, tangible version of it was a whole different thing. Next note.

WHEN YOU LEFT, I THOUGHT THE WORST, I THOUGHT THAT WAS IT, I THOUGHT I HAD LOST YOU BECAUSE I AM A DUMB BITCH WHO CAN’T CONTROL HER MOUTH.

I knew we had something in common, Y/N, I always knew it.

BUT THEN I REALIZED THAT WHAT WAS ACTUALLY PUNCTURING MY SOUL WASN’T THE PERSPECTIVE OF LOSING YOU. IT WAS THE PERSPECTIVE OF HAVING HURT YOU. I SWEAR THAT LOOK ON YOUR FACE IS GOING TO BE TATTOOED INSIDE OF MY LIDS FOREVER.

Fuck.

YOU CAN’T BEGIN TO UNDERSTAND HOW SORRY I AM FOR WHAT I SAID, BUT SPECIALLY FOR HOW I SAID IT, EVEN LESS IF ALL THE EXPLANATION I GIVE YOU IS A FEW SHITTY POST-ITS ON THE WALL.

This was the last piece of paper on the wall, right at the top of the stairs, so it had been more difficult to read only with the weak light from the floor below. I put it in my right hand with the small stack of other notes I had collected, and turned left to go to our room. Sticked to the closed door, I found another post-it.

SINCE IT’S MORE THAN LIKELY THAT BY THE TIME YOU REACH THIS PIECE OF PAPER I AM SOUND ASLEEP (A HOE PLANS AHEAD), ALL I HAVE LEFT TO SAY IS THAT, IF YOU FEEL LIKE IT, YOU CAN WAKE ME UP SO WE PROPERLY FIX THIS. I LOVE YOU.

The first thing I saw when I entered the room was her, in her panties and one of my t-shirts she liked to wear when I was on tour. Instead of occupying her side of the bed, she was in the middle of it, curled up and with her hair sprawled all over her pillow. Her arm was slightly reaching my half of the bed, and her nose softly pressed against my own pillow, as if she wanted to hold on to my scent, to get closer to me, but as if she didn’t dare.

The sight was divine, she seemed so peacefully asleep, and after such a tough night, God forbid I interrupted that, whatever reason I might have for doing so. Communication could wait. I got into bed and cuddled up behind her back, as gently as I could, so that she didn’t wake up.

_____________________

A cold hand ran up my bare thigh and rested on my hip, as I felt a warm breath and a pair of lips grazing the back of my neck.It was him.Slowly, his presence and the memories from a few hours earlier started to drag me away from my sleep. Why was he here? What time was it? Shit, the post-its. Was he waking me up? Was this my cue? What should I say? With a sloppy movement I began to turn around to face him.

- Tommy… - my voice was hoarse because of the crying and the sleeping.

- Shhh - he instantly interrupted me with a soft voice, as his arm moved from my hip to my waist and pulled me closer to his chest - it’s okay.

- But…

- I know, I know - he whispered as he peppered soft kisses on the bare skin of my shoulder, exposed by his t-shirt; on the back of my neck and also in my head, sniffing the scent that my hair radiated - sleep now, babe. You can tell me tomorrow, but now sleep. It’s okay, I love you…

His soothing words managed to kill the clouds of confusion that surrounded me in that moment. In my state of semi-wakefulness I wasn’t particularly aware of or integrated with reality, but something in his voice was so deeply calming that I couldn’t help but feel every little thing had somehow fallen into place. So there I was, with his arms around me, his lips against me, inescapably sleepy and undeniably in love.

#tommy lee #the dirt #the dirt movie #thedirtmovie #tommylee #mgk!tommy lee #imagine #oneshot #tommy lee x reader #motley crue #motley crue imagine #angst #fluff #the dirt motley crue #y/n #80s

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grimelords · 6 years

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Two days after I said I’d upload it tonight, here it is! My October playlist is finished and it’s chock a block full of good music and also bad music that I love. From John Mellencamp to drone metal, from Katy B to Cassius, it’s all here and more. Deadmau5 also is here and for that I apologise.

Small Town (Acoustic) - John Mellencamp: Guess who had a legit emotional reaction to a John Mellencamp song this month, thinking deeply about what it means to be from a small town and how much this song gets right and wrong about identity and freedom in a small town versus living in a big town? This guy. I think this song works a lot better stripped down acoustically than it does in the album version. It gives the lyrics a lot more space, and really lays out just how simple the sentiment of the song is. It sets the tone of this month's playlist pretty well now that I think about it. I've been feeling like a real pea-brain hayseed this month and big chunks of this playlist really reflect that.

Katy On A Mission - Katy B: It feels like this and Hold It Against Me by Britney Spears (which was also 2011) is the moment that big american style dubstep completely crossed over into the mainstream, Scary Monsters And Nice Sprites was about six months ago and from there it was a tidal wave until oversaturation and complete death. But Katy On A Mission is different because it's at least got the credentials of dubstep pioneer Benga producing it and it doesn't go all-out on the super dirty bass, or even particularly have a big drop at all - it just uses it textually all the way through and it's better off for it.

I Only Have Eyes For You - The Flamingos: The way this song is recorded is insane. It literally sounds like they're at the bottom of a well. And it's mixed in that good early stereo hard-panned style so the lead is in the right channel and the whole harmony is in the left channel and absolutely soaked in reverb in a way that just sounds incongruous with the rest of the song. It sounds like a dream. My favourite moment is at about 2:30 when the harmony vocals get so large on the high note that they clip out and distort in a way that just sounds very, very cool.

Horses In The Sky (Live Version) - The Sound Of Animals Fighting: The Sound Of Animals Fighting was a post-hardcore prog supergroup where they were all anonymous (it was just the entirety of RX Bandits plus Anthony Green from Circa Survive) and I really wish they'd done more like this after their first album - because they still wrote very very good songs but they got lost in the mire of studio ambient interludes and being avant-garde for the sake of it which sometimes worked and most times just bored you which thankfully they only succumb in the end section of this version. Compare this to the studio version if you want to know what I mean, halfway through the guitar solo it just starts playing in reverse.

Split Wide Open - Cannibal Corpse: Here's what I mean about feeling like a pea-brain this month. Cannibal Corpse is proper troglodyte moron man music. It makes me feel dumb as fuck like a real stupid guy. There's something interesting about Cannibal Corpse's enduring ability to shock people, and that a band making such extreme music are at least a name that people know. They were in Ace Ventura: Pet Detective for god's sake. Before Marilyn Manson and that wave of cabaret shock-rock really got into the popular consciousness Cannibal Corpse were making shocking, violent music without any of the glamour and I think it's served them well in the long run. Songs like 'Hammer Smashed Face' or 'I Cum Blood', are shocking in title, artwork and content to this day are still musically shocking to the vast majority, far more than Marilyn Manson's spooky androgyny and wearing like a top hat and having fangs or whatever that's aged like milk and become just another boring cliche. The idea of the devil being charming and sly, disguised in charisma is so much more boring than the devil just tearing you apart like mince meat and eating you. Anyway I'm here to say Cannibal Corpse is good music for dum-dums like me.

Funeraloplis - Electric Wizard: Someone's edited it now but it's still in the footnote links, but the best ever piece of writing on wikipedia was the quote on Electric Wizard's page where they were explaining the origin of their name because it said "Is the name Electric Wizard made out of two Black Sabbath song titles? [smokes a big bud of weed through a can] Hahahaha, yeah it is!" which is so good and sort of all you need to know about them.

I <3 U So - Cassius: Looking back through this list it seems I'm having a real 2011 moment for some reason. I don't think I *get* Cassius. From everything I read about them they seem to be french dance royalty but they literally have two good songs and they're both in this playlist. These two songs are very good though so maybe it's just that. Anyway it's a shame what Kanye did this to song on Watch The Throne but I don't blame him, it feels like this song is just impossible to work with. It's at a weird tempo, it's incredible loose, it basically has one section. I imagine this song would have frustrated a lot of DJs when it was popular cause I really don't know how you would mix in or out of it, but fuck it while it's on it's a great song!

Youth, Speed, Trouble, Cigarettes - Cassius: This is the other good Cassius song. I'm pitching it as the theme song for when they eventually reboot Skins. I really appreciate that this song has 1 idea and basically just does every variation it can with it before bringing it to a climax. When your idea is this simple and this good that's all you need. Also the big toms that kick in after the 'just one more' but are heaven sent.

It Took The Night To Believe - Sun 0))): Sun 0))) are such morons and it's so funny that you can be so dumb and so serious about this sort of music at the same time. On this song Greg Anderson is credited as Mystik Fogg Invokator and Stephen O'Malely is credited as Taoiseach, which is the name for the Irish prime minister. Whenever I listen to Sun 0))) for the first two minutes I'm like 'lol this sucks' but then suddenly the guy is like 'cry yourself to ash' and I'm feeling the pull of the void quite heavily. Basically it's just like that meme.

Seven Angels - Earth: I remember ages ago some guy posted Earth 2: Special High Frequency edition and it was just this whole album with a high pass filter on it which is a funny joke. Anyway it interesting to think of this album in the context of when it came out. Two years after Nevermind, six months before In Utero - grunge at the absolute height of its power, stoner metal like Kyuss and Sleep huge when suddenly this guy comes out of nowhere and distills guitar music down to its essence: slower, louder, heavier than anything else by an order of magnitude.

Mutual Slump - DJ Shadow: I finally saw Xanadu this month and now I can finally relate to the weird smiling breathing out your nose noise that she makes after she says 'I'd never hailed a cab before' in this song.

Walkin' On The Sidewalks - Queens Of The Stone Age: Queens Of The Stone Age's first album is 20 years old this year and I've been thinking a lot about how it was a two person operation. Josh Homme played and sang everything on this album except the drums and it's funny to think about writing this sort of music all by yourself outside of a jam structure. He really sat down with a pad and paper and wrote down 'outro: bass riff x400' and then recorded it just like that.

Witch - Maps & Atlases: I wake up with this song in my head so often it's insane. I think a triplet groove in 4/4 like this is such a good and underused feeling and this song really deploys is perfectly. I want more of this, the good kind of math rock where it's not just guys doing midwest emo tappy riffs that all sound the same.

Down 2 Hang - Kirin J Callinan: This is what meeting up with people from the internet feels like. It's kind of a shame that this album got completely overshadowed by the Jimmy Barnes screaming meme, and that it's the first and last a lot of americans will ever hear of Jimmy Barnes but in reality it's exactly what Kirin J Callinan wanted to good for him I suppose.

Fast In My Car - Paramore: If you can't tell already I'm having an extremely basic bitch moron man month and that included listening to this Paramore album a lot and telling my girlfriend about how isn't it so interesting that the guitarist Taylor York just took over drum duties for this album after their longtime drummer quit and did such a good job playing drums AND guitar and her rightly not caring at all. I'm always impressed by songs that keep the same chords through the verse and chorus, it seems impossible but it works great here.

Don't Stop The Dance (feat. Delafleur) - Breakbot: I'm clapping my hands to stress each syllable when I tell you that Disco Will Never Die.

Oqiton - Jeremy Dutcher: I'm so glad this album won the Polaris Prize because I feel like I would never have heard of it otherwise. I absolutely love it, and I think what I love so much about it is that it doesn't fall into the trap of similar projects like this in the past of smoothing out all the jagged edges and turning it into plastic pretty music from the untouched ancient peoples - it's a real and alive reinterpretation of old music that looks toward the future and past in equal measure. Including the actual original recordings in each track is such a smart move, it gives you the context you need so this album isn't about liner notes and extra sources and it lets those old recordings seamlessly fold into these new reorchestrations.

I Remember - Deadmau5 & Kaskade: Anyway moron month continues here with the only worthwhile contribution to the planet earth that Deadmau5 ever made, I suspect by letting Kaskade do most of the work. It sounds sadistic but I really appreciate how this song is nearly ten minutes long, I'm a big fan of any song with that much confidence that actually pulls it off.

Overtime - Jessie Ware: Fucking Jessie Ware is back and she’s got Bicep producing! I think I added this song to my playlist before it was even a minute in, I just heard the bassline and my brain stem said yes.

Body - Julie Jacklin: I really think Julia Jacklin might be the best songwriter around right now and I cannot wait for her new album. I guess this keeps with the moron man theme by telling it from the other side. I keep listening to this song and then getting into a real mood for about an hour afterwards so I can't imagine the damage the album is going to do to me.

Can't Tell Me Nothing - Kanye West: Throughout the whole ongoing Kanye drama I've been thinking of this song. " I feel the pressure, under more scrutiny, and what I do? Act more stupidly" "I'm on TV talking like it's just you and me". Anyway he's had is money right for a long time but it's becoming increasingly apparent that you really really can't tell him nothing. I think it's interesting that the thing that seems to have spurred him into clarifying his beliefs and finally backtracking on anything is that Candace Owens tried to credit him for the shitty Blexit thing and it turns out the one thing you can't do to Kanye West is manipulate him into putting his name on something he doesn't believe in or didn't create. It's insane that John Legend and Mos Def and Talib Kweli reaching out didn't change anything but Candace Owens taking one too many liberties absolutely did.

Like Wolves On The Fold - Colin Stetson: I've said it one million times but I love Colin Stetson. I love how straightforward this is for a Colin Stetson song. You can sing along to it! So much writing about him focuses on the intricasies of his technique rather than his resulting very human, very primal music. I feel like his music is not very far from beating on your chest and yelling a lot of the time (especially toward the second half of this song) and the saxophone element just makes it a lot more socially acceptable.

Sack 'Em Up, Pt. I / Sack 'Em Up, Pt. II - Gwenifer Raymond: Bandcamp had a really good article about American Primitive the other day https://daily.bandcamp.com/2018/10/10/american-primitive-list/ and I found this album in it and fell completely in love instantly. I listened to it five times in a row. It's just incredible and I'm so glad that the music I love is finally being rescued from the mire of New Acoustic youtube men with their slapping and tapping and harp guitars and moving forward in new ways with artists like Sarah Louise, Marisa Anderson and Gwenifer Raymond. Women are finally allowed to play guitar now and thank fuck. One of the things I really appreciate about this album is just how written it feels. Every part, even the very swirly Part One of this song feels very purposeful, and if not totally written at least improvised in a tight framework before moving into the completely written second half. There's nothing wrong with improv but in a genre like this that's almost overrun with guys putting out hour long improv records it's refreshing to hear someone with such a clear vision execute it so expertly.

Bleeding Finger Blues - Gwenifer Raymond: Also, get a fucking load of this. An absolute powerhouse performance from a master. There's not enough solo banjo music around and it's a shame because I don't know if there's a better argument for banjo as a solo instrument than this song. The other thing I like about this album is there’s three banjo songs on it, which works well for breaking up the sequencing and making each song really distinct in a genre where albums can really blend together.

4:30 - Danger: It's a shame that Danger never really fulfilled his potential. With songs as good as this as 19:11 he seemed set. But then he took about a decade off before his debut album and I guess he lost something along the way. Anyway, doesn't matter because when you've got a song as good as this it's all you need. Also here's a good video where someone just put this song over the bar scene from Terminator which really accentuates the vibe in my opinion. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z37R39-mff8

Crybaby - Abra: I love love love the production on this. A friend sent it to me because he said it reminded him of the Call Me Mr Telephone song I was raving about and he’s absolutely right. I love how formless it is, it goes through about three different verse ideas before finally getting to the chorus at about a minute and a half in and it’s only stronger for it. I’m so glad a new generation of darkwave adjacent people are discovering freestyle because this is great.

OMG!!! - Yelle: This song is probably best experienced with the music video. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eoWK4rV3INY It’s fantastic on its own, especially the “oh my god!” sample and the whole chorus section, but the video - titties out, covered in glitter, very very good dance move for the rising 'ooo' part, a hamster is there. Really accentuates it.

Copacabana (At The Copa) - Barry Manilow: Was thinking about this song the other day. Woke up with it in my head actually which was strange. I feel like this song and the Pina Colada song definitely take place in the same cinematic universe.

King Of The Dead - Cirith Ungol: I've been rereading Lord Of The Rings and also a very dodgy 70s sci-fi series called Dray Prescot and so divine fate has drawn me to discover Cirith Ungol. The good kind of metal where all the album covers could also be fantasy novel covers and all the songs are about how cool it would be to slay an ancient demon with a sword. I love this song because it feels impossible to sing it without doing some very dramatic face acting and also his voice is completely insane. I feel like this is maybe just how he talks.

Sugaree 10/21/1978 - Grateful Dead: Grateful Dead are good and ever since I came to terms with that I've felt like I'm always on the precipice of buying a box of tapes, covering my car in confusing stickers and dropping completely out of society. The problem with a big chunk of live Dead recordings that I've heard is that while the playing is always on point, the vocals can vary wildly - especially when they try any kind of harmony, but this recording is just great. Fantastic vocals with a lot of feeling, ample crowd noise so it doesn't feel like just a sterile soundboard recording, and of course an incredible extended jam.

Ring De Bell - Brother Resistance: I don't fully understand what rapso music is yet, I don't have enough understanding of the culture or surrounding genres. I basically just found this Best Of compilation and have been listening to it a LOT. As I understand it it's 70s Trinidadian calypso music that got very political, which is very cool. I'm a big fan of this sort of lyric where it feels like you could just go on and on for days about all the places you should ring the bell.

Kojack - David Rudder: The crown jewel of this compilation is of course this song I've posted about before and absolutely love to death. A protest song about them taking Kojack off the TV because it's too violent when shows like Dallas and Dynasty, which are far worse, remain on the air. Miami Vice! Before youtube comments and online petitions you had to make extremely good songs about this kind of thing, and its a huge shame that we've allowed this to die.

The Power Of Love - Celine Dion: I love Celine Dion because all her songs sound like they were recorded across 5 countries and 8 different studios and cost two million dollars. They always sound too expensive for casual listening to me, like I should have an emergency mink coat on me at all times just in case The Power Of Love starts playing in a supermarket.

Airworks - J Dilla: I've been listening to Donuts a bunch this month and really thinking about what makes him so good and the vast legion of Dilla imitators on soundcloud bad and I think this song is a good example. The main sample sounds straight up ugly, it's backwards and twisted to hell, the main strings part keeps folding over itself, it's just chaos but completely controlled chaos. Every imitator is so afraid to make a total mess like he does and is too focused on the underpinning laid-backness of the beat, where Dila somehow makes the relaxed feeling easily as a result of a million clashing elements.

Anti-American Graffiti - J Dilla: I also found a playlist on Spotify where someone had put together Donuts with all of the the original tracks it sampled (or at least the ones that are available on Spotify) and it's such an illuminating new way to listen to this album. https://open.spotify.com/user/keatonkreps/playlist/1TPeWt38uceWXD1Vhyf7wx?si=NJ_jHrYqQpCt18q-W9nrag

Marvel - Solillaquists Of Sound: Every genre has good music in it. Even rappity rap conscious hip hop has good songs like this one. There’s another song on this album called Popcorn that’s basically the It’s Media picture converted to a .wav but this song is good. Especially her vocals when they come in halfway through sounding like an astrology zine except good.

Rock Island Line - Johnny Cash: Johnny Cash has around one million songs about trains, including ‘Blue Train’, ‘Train Of Love’ and a song called ‘I’ve Got A Thing About Trains’ but this is the best one because it’s about train-related fraud and doing perhaps the most outlaw country manoeuvre ever and telling the toll man that you’re carrying livestock when you are in fact carrying pig iron.

I <3 U So (Skream's Made Zdar Feel Like He Was 20 Again Remix) - Cassius: Also as a kind of coda, here's Skream's version of I <3 U So, where he's completely ironed it out and turned it into a pulsing dnb thing which is always impressive to me when people completely reverse the feel of a song in a remix.

Worms Of The Senses / Faculties Of The Skull - Refused: Stereogum had a really good article about The Shape Of Punk To Come on its 20th anniversary and whether it really did turn out to be the shape of punk to come. They asked a bunch of people whether the title seemed arrogant and the vocalist from La Dispute had a really good answer where he said "But it’s like calling your shot and then fuckin’ hitting a home run. If it was arrogant, it was justifiably so." which is so great. https://www.stereogum.com/2020358/refused-shape-of-punk-to-come-turns-20/franchises/sounding-board/

listen here

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weasleymama · 6 years

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GMW Rewatch S1E1: Girl Meets World

I am going to focus more on individual episodes… but there is one broad generalization about the show as a whole that I really want to point out. As a single mother, I had a big problem with the mother/daughter relationships on this show. I feel like there is not enough between Topanga and Riley…but more between her and Auggie. Why is that? Why don’t we get to see those important mother daughter moments in this show about a teenage girl?

We have an episode called “Girl Meets Father” What about mother? I can understand a girl being closer to one parent than the other. But a lot of really important mother/daughter moments were missed here and it’s really sad.

The same can be said for Maya and Katy. I would have loved to see more positive single-mother moments. But you basically spend most of the first season thinking Maya’s mother is a flake who can’t be bothered to be there for her daughter. It’s not okay.

Yes, they explained she was working to buy Maya’s present on her birthday, but that’s still crap. No way she doesn’t wake up her daughter to say happy birthday, or call her… nothing? Just left alone to fend for herself? I don’t like it. Then comes the Christmas episode… where they invite Maya but no Katy? Yes I’m sure she had to work…but no mention of her mother?

The mother/daughter relationship is incredibly important to how a girl is raised and who she becomes. It should have been better portrayed, and I will never change my mind on that.

Now onto the episode!

One of the first things I notice as someone who has seen the entire show is that Maya knows a lot of people outside of the Core group (be it 4 or 6). You come to notice it in later episodes as well, but even in the pilot, she knows people in the subway by name and I like that there’s more to her. Also, I wish we’d get to see Weasel, the drummer on the subway platform, more often. He seemed like he’d be fun.

Like most TV shows set in NYC, the apartment is ridiculous. That apartment is at least 3 bedrooms along with a huge living room/kitchen space. An apartment, in a brownstone, in Greenwich Village would cost around 10 million dollars, give or take. Are you telling me that a lawyer and a middle school teacher have that kind of money? I have no doubt Topanga makes good money but come on!

Ship wars in this fandom are INSANE. I personally like Lucaya, Riarkle, and Zaydora but I don’t deny other ships have possibilities. I won’t engage in ship wars… but I will discuss anytime with anyone how they feel about stuff. I like talking to other fans, so long as it’s a discussion and not a battle.

With that said… Maya spots Lucas first on the subway, but honestly, I don’t think she has any interest in him at this point. She can admit he’s cute, but beyond that, she’s just having fun. And I think he was amused by her as well, seeing she and Riley talking after their ‘break-up’ he had to know they were teasing him, and the look on his face seemed okay with it.

I do not think Maya pushed Riley on the subway to engage in some romantic moment between her and Lucas. They had no idea if they’d ever see him again. The whole point of this episode is Riley wanting to be like Maya because she’s so cool. Maya is okay with this at the beginning because she doesn’t see it being a bad thing for Riley (yet). I think she pushed Riley to talk to random cute boy, because it would push her to be more outgoing and ‘cool’.

But on that note… Riley, a girl who isn’t actually like that, who is shy and awkward, actually remains sitting on Lucas’s lap?! I don’t think so. She wouldn’t sit there and have some cute talk, she would stand or move to the empty seat immediately and likely blush and apologize. Then it happens again? We see how awkward she is with him in the next episode, can’t even speak to him without her phone…yet she’s chatting on his lap? Nope. Nuh uh. Not happening.

OCD Continuity Moment #1: Evelyn Rand. Okay, I get it, they liked Jackée and wanted her on the show beyond the pilot. If you’re anything like me, this doesn’t fly. She’s a billionaire who apparently needs to sit down after working a 12-hour shift right? Meaning she went to work at 5 or 6 at night…not exactly board room hours.

However, I love her character and she makes me laugh so whatever.

One of her lines that I love the most in this episode: “You ain’t got no hunk you ain’t got no story!” It really was a foreshadowing moment for this show and the fandom obsession with coupling. LOL

The first time Maya is insulted by Cory happens in the pilot episode. This really bothers me because honestly it happens a lot as the show goes on. It’s always laughed off, she always has some witty come back that makes her seem tougher than he is, but the truth is, she shouldn’t have to.

“Thank you, future Mini-mart employee of the month”

This is not okay to say to a 13-year-old girl. Not okay for a teacher to say this to any child, but especially not one that young and impressionable. This is not how a good teacher should speak to his students (but of course, I am not totally sold on Cory as a good teacher to be honest).

Topanga (mockingly): Let’s get married, let’s have a kid, let’s have another kid

Cory: Well you listened to me, ya big stupid.

I actually love this moment between them, it’s light and joking and fun after dealing with a hormonal pre-teen. It was cute to see.

Side note, Topanga proposed to him.

I am going to use Farkle’s own words for the lunchroom scene, for the debates and the deeply discussed ‘Maya is sloppy Joe” craziness.

“Farkle’s just hungry, not everything is about you.”

I am sure people think deeply about the show and how they put it together, I have no doubt that there are small details that we may or may not notice. But the nit-picking that happens in the fandom over tiny things just wears me out. I hope that’s not what anyone is looking for here, because it’s just not me. Honestly, and no offense to anyone else, I find it hard to believe that someone who can’t be bothered with continuity in a show can be so set on things so little.

Let’s take a moment to imagine yourself as Riley… You’re talking to a boy at school for the first time, you’ve barely said hello to him, you were too nervous to even call him over to the table with your friends. And what happens next? Your dad come sup and literally pulls him away.

Now Imagine being a 14-year-old boy. Would you actually WANT to hang out with that girl after that? Would it not deter you from that group of friends, especially if you’re new in the school? I can’t image any boy at 14 not thinking it was the most uncomfortable, strange thing ever. Not to mention this dad who pulls you away is your teacher.

Cory is incredibly overbearing as a parent (the line in the next episode “do I go too far?” “always, sir” is very accurate.) It’s really inappropriate to me as a parent.

“No homework, more freedom!” Honestly, I would have to give Maya ½ credit on her homework/not doing her homework because that’s what she’s fighting for. (not counting the fire alarm situation yet to come)

I personally believe the moment Maya stands up to ‘gather the homework’ was actually her way to save Riley. Riley was telling Cory she was like Maya, that she didn’t do her homework. It wasn’t until Cory tells Riley that he’s not like Maya at all, that Maya raises her hand to interrupt him. I don’t see her planning to burn everyone’s homework (even if she knew Farkle had sparklers on his – which BTW, why does this kid have sparklers lit at school anyway?) I saw it more as a ploy to keep Cory from making Riley realize they’re not as alike as she thinks, that went admittingly ‘too far’. Notice how slowly she brings the sparklers to the paper.

Lucas: Why didn’t you stop your friend?

Riley: I don’t do that anymore.

Lucas: You’re better than that!

Is she though? You only met the girl a few hours before, how do you really know what she’s better than? But it gets better… not only does Lucas put the pressure on her to be responsible for Maya, so does Cory…and in an even worse way: “Because you didn’t do anything your best friend is in very big trouble.”

She is a 12-year-old girl, who wants to be like her best friend and feel cool and accepted… it’s way too much to put on her shoulders.

Maya’s admission of not having anyone at home to help her with her homework is heartbreaking. But what’s more heartbreaking is that she has to say it at all. Cory has known her since she was 5 years old. “As long as I can remember it’s been Riley and Maya” As long as he can remember. He should know by now what her home/family is like, or at least have some indication…not stand there in shock like she’s just revealed something he never considered. I don’t know if this is a continuity thing or just to put the point out there of what Maya’s home life is like, but it really just made Cory look like a clueless jerk.

“I go too far, and I don’t think that’s going to stop.” It’s the ‘I don’t think I’m going to stop’ part that really resonated with me in this moment. She’s basically come to the conclusion that she’s bad, and she can’t change. This is quickly followed by her saying Cory doesn’t love her anymore. I feel like this needed more attention – but alas, it was about Riley’s inner struggle to be herself, not Maya’s. I connected more to Maya’s character, I think the show could have been really interesting if it were Maya’s story.

One more thing… if the creators of the show are SO picky that the tiniest little things matter, that the food on the plate really is a sign of something to come. Then someone please tell me why Auggie, a 5-year-old, is doing a peg puzzle made for toddlers. Seriously people…you can’t have it both ways, either everything tiny background thing matters, or it doesn’t.

All in all, I have some negative thoughts. I will have a lot of them. But I really do love this show. I love the throw backs to Boy Meets World, which I grew up with. I love the dynamics between friends. I love the lessons (mostly) that they tried to teach.

I love to discuss things, so please feel free to message me or send in an ask. I look forward to having fun chats with the fans still out there.

#gmw rewatch #gmw #girl meets world #gmw s1e1 #unsolicited opinions #maya hart #lucas friar #cory matthews #riley matthews

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ylla · 7 years

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Friday Night Gurus - Chapter 1

Series: JJBA Ships: josuyasu (others will eventually happen too, but im tagging as i go) Tags: au where theyre famous, modern au, pining, josuke is a hot mess and has exactly 0 chill Rating: T (for this chapter only, bc eventually there will be sex/smoking the devil’s lettuce)

AO3 link

reeeeee so i’ve been in and out of the doctor’s office with a sinus infection so intense, i’ve been to the ER due to pain. fun shit. i came up with this AU while listening to music while waiting for someone to come smother me with a pillow to put me out of my misery.

this unbeta’d because i wrote this on my phone while waiting. i plan on keeping up with this idea because it delights me. next chapter will follow shortly too, because i’m trying to break this up into smaller chunks as i hammer it out on my phone (which fucking sucks, lemme tell ya). if you notice anything weird, tell me about it so i can fix it!!

The first time Josuke Higashikata meets Okuyasu Nijimura was because of a fuckup in a magazine photo shoot schedule. The shoot in question was for a feature in Rolling Stone; award season was coming soon and they wanted to feature the current Biggest Names in Music. Some poor intern (who was probably promptly fired) fucked up EVERYONE’S schedule, so all the bands and singers had to come in during the same hellish week in June. It was a nightmare for all involved.

Of course, the cover would feature the biggest name in the industry which, naturally, was Josuke. Discovered at sixteen, with two world tours, four albums (two of which went platinum), and at least 20 different awards, he was twenty-four and still going. His latest album dropped too late for Grammy consideration last year, but he was feeling real confident. This was his year. He’ll get that fucking Grammy, even if he killed him.

Josuke still considered himself to be a chill, down-to-earth kind of man despite his superstardom; able to roll with the punches whenever they came. He got that sometimes things just didn’t go your way, but he still couldn’t help it when his precious time off gets thwarted by some dumb idiot.

“What the fuck, Koichi?” Josuke whined on their way to the shoot, “Why couldn’t have this happened literally like, last week?”

Koichi Hirose was his manager, agent, PR guy, and truth be told, the only person beside his mother and grandfather who truly knew him. “Stop whining, it’s not the end of the world.”

“Dude, this was supposed to be my first week off in forever—“

For someone who was 5’3 and weighed 110lbs soaking wet, Koichi could be intimidating. He gave Josuke a look before parking and turning off the car, “Can’t be helped. They wanted to do the cover shoot last since there’s two of them.”

Josuke made a face. He forgot that this would be a dual cover. Him on one side, some band on the other. “Who’s the other band?”

Like he was still in school, Koichi started rattling off some facts, “Arrowhead, they’re a metal band. Comprised of four members. Skyrocketed up the charts this past year with their second album. You guys fought over #1 album and singles on Billboard on and off all year.” Koichi was the type of guy who always did his homework, “Now come on, you’re gonna be late.”

The shoot was operating in some random ass warehouse in some backassward part of Los Angles. Josuke and Koichi waltz into some giant room that was getting set up; a group of 4 people huddled in a corner eating what appeared to be a large quantity of Taco Bell with a sharp dressed man standing near them. Josuke’s kind of people.

“Oi! Tonio!” Koichi called out with a wave, before gesturing at Josuke to follow him over. Josuke barely restrained an eyeroll; his hair was up in a ponytail and he was wearing some worn-out sweats with an old t-shirt, not exactly looking good for first introductions.

“Koichi,” the finely dressed man shook Koichi’s outstretched hand, “good to see you.”

“Josuke, this is Tonio Trussardi, we work at the same agency.” Koichi gestured at Tonio, “And Tonio, this is Josuke Higashikata.”

Josuke held out his hand and got a firm handshake, “Nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Tonio’s eyes sparkled. He let go of Josuke’s hand and gestured to the group of people sitting behind him, “These are my charges, Arrowhead.”

He started with introductions, pointing to a man leaned up against the wall, who had sleepy eyes and a face Josuke would find attractive if it wasn’t for the tattoo on his chin, “Yuuya Fungami, drummer.” Yuuya nodded in greeting. Tonio pointed to a pretty girl with long black hair who was intently staring at Koichi, “Yukako Yamagishi, lead guitarist.” She didn’t even acknowledge Josuke, but held out a hand for Koichi to shake (which he did, if a little hesitant due to her staring). He swept a hand towards a man with impressively tall hair and two braids, “Keicho Nijimura, bassist.” Keicho gave them a cold stare and said nothing. “And last, but not least,” Tonio clapped his hand on a scarred man who had been too busy slamming a taco the entire time and didn’t notice people had walked up, “Okuyasu Nijimura, lead singer and rhythm guitarist.”

Okuyasu jumped a little, before turning a little pink and waving, “Sup?” His voice sounded he had came out of the womb smoking like a freight train.

Josuke was taken aback when he got a good look at the guy. The symmetrical scars running parallel on Okuyasu’s face did nothing to detract from how goddamn hot he was. Square jaw, angular face, black and silver hair pulled up into a ponytail, three piercings in each ear, ripped arms that had tattoos snaking up them, good God almighty. The first thought that entered Josuke’s mind when looking Okuyasu in the face was Oh no, he’s hot. The first words out of his mouth were “Those tacos smell so fuckin’ good.” Real smooth.

Without another word, Okuyasu offered him one. Josuke ignored how the blonde guy glared at him, and took the proffered taco, “Thanks dude.”

“S’no prob.”

As Josuke started chowing down, about to start chatting up the cute guy, when Okuyasu unceremoniously got up and walked away. Trying not to look so bitter, Josuke turned towards Koichi, but Yukako was asking him incredibly personal questions about his life, while Tonio started ushering Yuuya to hair and makeup, “Photographer’s not here yet, but you need to be ready since you’re the first up.”

“Yeah yeah, stop pushing.”

Keicho’s cold stare was unwavering and was starting to give Josuke the heebie jeebies, “Oi, Koichi. I’m gonna have a smoke.” Josuke didn’t bother to listen for Koichi’s stammered reproach before heading outside (which might have been a strangled cry for help). Truth be told, he really didn’t need a cigarette, he just kind of wanted to go pout. But luck would have it, when he went outside, Okuyasu was sitting on the curb with earbuds in, watching some video. Nosy as shit, Josuke hovered over his shoulder to see what he watching, “Are you watching Real Housewives of Atlanta??”

Okuyasu nearly jumped out of his skin, phone fumbling in his hand, “Oh shit!” he whipped around, wearing glasses he didn’t have on earlier, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, “Uh, I can explain.”

Oh no, he’s so fuckin’ cute Josuke hollered inwardly. He held his hands up in defense, “Sorry man, didn’t mean to scare ya.” Pulling out his own pack of cigarettes, he sat down beside him on the curb, “Don’t gotta explain anything to me, I love trashy reality shows.”

“You ain’t makin’ fun of me, are ya?” Okuyasu asked, scowling.

“What? Nah, reality shows are the shit. I love binge watching them.” Josuke fished around in his pocket, “You got a lighter?”

As if Okuyasu was trying to divine if Josuke was lying, he stared at him for a few seconds before handing over his lighter, “Jus’ asking. Keicho gives me shit for watching them, but they’re hilarious.”

Josuke lit his cigarette, “Don’t let anyone tell you how to live your life.” Inhale. He gave Okuyasu a serious look, speaking on the exhale and handing his lighter back, “Fuck what he thinks.”

Okuyasu was quiet while he lit up and took a drag. For a moment, Josuke was worried that he had already overstepped his boundaries with someone he literally just met. God, no wonder he didn’t have any friends.

He was snapped out of mentally kicking his own ass when Okuyasu spoke, holding up his right earbud, “Wanna watch with me?”

“Hell yes I do, which episode are you on?”

“The one where Ridickulous shows up—“

“THAT’S MY FAVORITE ONE—“

“DUDE, MINE TOO.”

They ended up talking while watching, not really paying much attention to the show until Ridickulous showed up, which was met with raucous laughter. Josuke learned that Keicho was Okuyasu’s older brother, that the only thing better than chocolate or strawberry ice cream was strawberry ice cream with chocolate chunks, he smoked his cigarettes like he did his joints, he smelled insanely good, most of his tattoos didn’t have much more meaning than “They looked cool as shit when my dude drew them”, and that Okuyasu Nijimura was the most genuine person he had ever met. He was sweet, eager to please, loud, and friendly. Josuke was already dangerously enamored.

Josuke hadn’t even been aware of how much time passed until Koichi came out, “They’re looking for you guys. Keicho’s almost done, so you both need to go to hair and makeup.” Yukako hovered in behind Koichi, her eye’s sliding between Okuyasu and Josuke with a blank expression on her face.

“Shit, I hadn’t even realized,” Josuke stood up and held a hand out to help Okuyasu up, “Let’s go before we get murdered.”

With a grin, Okuyasu took his hand and hopped up, “Yeah, god forbid we disappear for a minute.”

It was hilarious watching Okuyasu, who had never had makeup put on him in all his life, grimace as his face was caked. “This shit smells weird.”

Josuke couldn’t help but cackle while he did his own hair, “Get used to it, dude. This is your life now.”

Makeup finished, Okuyasu got started on his own hair, “Josuke, the least surprisin’ thing you could ever tell me about yourself is the fact that you don’t let anyone else do your hair.” He was fighting with stubborn strands that didn’t want to stay still, “The pomp is cool, you pull it off.”

A quick glance in the mirror told Josuke that he managed to keep his blush to a minimum, “Thanks dude, you got some slick style there yourself.” The shy, pleased grin that crossed Okuyasu’s face was an image he wanted branded to the inside of his eyelids.

Okuyasu was up for pictures first, looking anxious and green. It was clear to Josuke that he had no idea what he was doing. “Dude, just relax!” he shouted, “You’re looking fine!” What he didn’t say was that he meant that two ways. With a slight nod, Okuyasu relaxed slightly, and his pictures started coming out better. Josuke was trying to go for the somewhat disinterested watching, but damn, he couldn’t help but stare. This dude was cute. Out of the corner of his eye, Josuke caught Keicho staring at him again. What was that guy’s deal??

He couldn’t ruminate on an answer, because as soon as he thought that, Yuuya suddenly sat down beside him, causing Josuke to yelp in a totally manly way, “Jesus! You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry dude,” Yuuya was eating a leftover taco, “Busy watchin’ the show?” He tilted his head toward the photographer fussing at Okuyasu, shit-eating grin on his face.

Josuke did not like that smug look Yuuya was sporting, “He looks nervous. Jus’ tryin’ to help him out.”

“That’s just how he is,” without looking over his shoulder, Yuuya tossed the taco wrapper behind him, hitting a trashcan, “He doesn’t know how to chill out.”

They sat in silence few a couple of minutes before the eyes Josuke felt on his back were getting on his last goddamned nerve, “Why is that guy staring at me like I murdered everyone he’s ever cared about?”

Yuuya eyed Keicho for a second before shrugging, “That’s just how he is too.”

Before Josuke could even ask what the fuck that even meant, Keicho punched Yuuya’s shoulder as he walked by, “Come on, asshole. It’s time for the cover.”

“Ow, that fuckin’ hurt, dickhead.” Taking his time, Yuuya stood up and stretched, rubbing his punched shoulder. “By the way, Okuyasu’s single,” Yuuya said casually, as if he was answering a question that had been posed.

Josuke sputtered, his face scarlet, “WHAT MAKES YOU THINK—“

Yuuya pointed at his nose, “I got a nose for romance,” and then he dead ass winked at Josuke before walking away. Josuke wondered if he was that obvious. Perhaps that explains why big bro Keicho stared daggers at him. Maybe he needed to work on being subtle, but Higashikata’s were never, ever subtle (thanks mom).

The cover shoot didn’t take too long, much to Josuke’s surpise. Not a whole lot of time passed before it was Josuke’s turn. Okuyasu was dragging his feet, watching intently, while Keicho was demanding they leave. Tonio, bless him, told them that he needed to speak to Koichi about business matters before they left (mercifully saving him from Yukako’s question of “What do you look for in a woman?”) Josuke didn’t know if Tonio was picking up on something, or just making assumptions, but he appreciated it.

When the pictures were mercifully done, Josuke ran to the bathroom real quick to reorient himself, muttering under his breath, “Okay, Higashikata. You got this. You’re cool, suave, and undeniably handsome.” Josuke applied a quick coat of lip gloss before heading back out there, “Get that cute guy’s number.”

After leaving the bathroom, Josuke was greeted to an almost empty room. Okuyasu was nowhere to be found. In fact no one associated with Arrowhead was there; Keicho had muscled them out of the door as soon as Josuke left the room, Koichi helpfully explained, patting Josuke’s shoulder as he felt his confidence leak out of him like a sad balloon.

Josuke pouted the whole way home, and Koichi couldn’t tempt him out of a foul mood. “Josuke, what’s the problem??” Koichi asked, finally fed up with his huffing and sighing, “Why are you like this?”

“Koichi, I’m gay,” Josuke said, head leaned against the window.

“I know this, you’ve told me before. What does that have to do with you sighing like a moody teenager?”

“I was gonna ask Okuyasu for his number, but they left before I could.” He felt like a fucking fool, why did he have to run to the bathroom like a scared baby? It was taking a lot of effort to not punch his own face in. “That Yuuya guy told me he was single and everything. Was I that obvious??”

As they sat at a stoplight, Koichi patted his shoulder, tactfully choosing to not answer the last question, “Don’t sweat it, Hollywood is small. You’ll run into him again.” Actually, Koichi could easily get Okuyasu’s number, but he knew better than to offer. It would only hurt Josuke’s pride.

Josuke shrugged and changed the subject, deciding to throw a pity party for himself later, “So about that Yukako chick…”

Koichi grimaced, “She followed me around the whole time. Asked me how I got such a high powered client when we’re the same age! And a bunch of personal stuff like my underwear size and what kind of man did I consider myself to be.”

“At least she’s cute?” Josuke offered, an apologetic smile on his face.

“She is that…also intense. Very…intense…”

“Did you get her number?”

Koichi sighed as he pulled into Josuke’s driveway, “She took my phone, put her number in it, and then texted herself.”

“Damn,” Josuke snorted with mirth, “Hey man, you might end up getting laid before my dry spell ends. I’m rooting for ya.”

Josuke didn’t need to look at Koichi to know that he was getting a look. He hopped out of the car and waved goodbye as his friend pulled out of the driveway. Upon walking through the front door, he greeted an empty house. “I’m home!” he called out to no one. Josuke really wished his mom hadn’t moved back east, but after his grandfather had that heart attack and refused to move to Los Angeles, someone had to stay with him. He could use advice, and was tempted to call her. No, he was grown ass man. No advice from mom, you die like a man.

…He’ll just call her later.

One shower and ordered pizza later, Josuke laid on his bed, booted up both his laptop and PS4. It was time for Netflix and Learning As Much About Your Crush As Possible. With Netflix on Worst Cook’s in America, pizza in one hand, and beer in the other, he typed in Arrowhead into Google and got to work.

Two hours later, he laid on his bed, hands folded across his chest, and stared at his ceiling, Netflix and pizza forgotten. Arrowhead’s second, self-titled album had been on repeat for the last hour. Metal was never his cup of tea, but Okuyasu’s husky, rough voice made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and chills run down his spine. If he didn’t have it bad for Okuyasu before, he certainly fucking did now. Josuke briefly wondered if this is how he sounded when he woke up in the morning, or when he was needy and wanted—

Josuke promptly rolled over and started screaming into his pillow. Why was he like this?

You’re a fucking mess he thought to himself, You have it bad for a dude who you barely even know, just because the way he sings goes directly to your dick.

“He’s also really hot and nice,” Josuke mumbled aloud. He paused before tearing out of bed, determined to shower, do anything that would get his mind off of Okuyasu. “I also need to stop talking to myself!” he said, ripping his clothes off, jumping into lukewarm water.

After a long, somewhat cold shower, Josuke steeled himself. He was gonna get that fucking number.

#josuke higashikata #okuyasu nijimura #josuyasu #josuke x okuyasu #jjba

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ravenmorganleigh · 7 years

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25 THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT PLOT

Previous iterations of the “25 Things” series:

25 Things Every Writer Should Know

25 Things You Should Know About Storytelling

25 Things You Should Know About Character

And now…

1. WHAT THE FIDDLY FUCK IS “PLOT,” ANYWAY?

A plot is the sequence of narrative events as witnessed by the audience.

2. THE WRONG QUESTION

Some folks will ask, incorrectly, “What’s the plot?” which, were you to answer them strictly, you would begin to recite for them a litany of events, each separated by a deep breath and the words, “And then…” They probably don’t want that. What they mean to ask is, “What’s the story?” or, “What’s this about?” Otherwise you’re just telling them what happened, start to finish. In other words: snore.

3. A GOOD PLOT IS LIKE A SKELETON: CRITICAL, YET INVISIBLE

A plot functions like a skeleton: it is both structural and supportive. Further, it isn’t entirely linear. A plot has many moving parts (sub-plots and pivot points) that act as limbs and joints. The best plots are plots we don’t see, or rather, that the audience never has to think about. As soon as we think about it, it’s like a needle manifests out of thin air and pops the balloon or lances that blister. Remember, we don’t walk around with our skeletons on the outside of our body, which is good because, ew. What are we, ants? So don’t show off your plot. Let the plot remain hidden, invisible.

4. SHIT’S GOTTA MAKE SENSE, SON

The biggest plot crime of them all is a plot that doesn’t make a lick of goddamn sense. That’s a one way ticket to plot jail. Do not pass GO. Do not collect $200 dollars. Do not drop the soap. The elegance of a great plot is that, when the events are all strung together, there exists a natural order as if this was the only way they could fit together. It’s like dominoes tumbling. Your plot is not a chimera: random parts mashed together because you didn’t think it through. Test the plot. Show people. Pull the pieces apart and ask, “Is there a better way?” Nonsense plots betray the potency of story.

5. THE QUINTESSENTIAL PLOT

The simplest motherfucker of a plot is this: things get worse until they get better. A straight-up escalation of conflict. It goes from “Uh-oh, that’s bad,” to, “Uh-oh, it’s getting worse,” to “Oh, holy shit, it can’t get any worse,” to, “I think I maybe maybe fixed it, or at least stopped it from being so totally and completely fucked.” When in doubt, just know that your next step as a storyteller is to bring the pain, amp the misery, and escalate the conflict. That’s what they mean by the advice, “Have a man with a gun walk through the door.” You can take that literally, sure, but what it means is: the bad news just got worse.

6. IN LIFE WE AVOID CONFLICT, IN FICTION WE SEEK IT

Fiction is driven by characters in conflict, or, put differently, the flame of fiction grows brighter through friction. A match-tip lights only when struck; so too is the mechanism by which a gun fires a bullet. Impact. Tension. Fear. Danger. Need to know what impels your plot forward? Look to the theme of Man Versus [fill-in-the-blank]. Man versus his fellow man. Woman versus nature. Man versus himself. Woman versus an angry badger riding a unicorn. Find the essential conflict and look for events that are emblematic to that.

7. WANT VERSUS FEAR

Of course, the essence of the essential conflict — the one below all that Wo/Man versus stuff — is a character’s wants versus a character’s fears. Plot grows from this fecund garden. The character wants life, revenge, children, a pony — and that which he fears must stand in his way. John McClane must battle terrorists to return to his wife. Indiana Jones must put up with snakes and irritating sidekicks to uncover the artifact. I must put up with walking downstairs to make myself a gin-and-tonic. Everything that stands in a character’s way — the speedbumps, roadblocks, knife-wielding monkeys, ninja clones, tornadoes, and sentient Krispy Kreme donuts sent from the future to destroy man via morbid obesity — are events in the greater narrative sequence: they are pieces of the plot.

8. GROW THE PLOT, DON’T BUILD IT

A plot grows within the story you’re telling. A story is all the important parts swirling together: world, character, theme, mood, and of course, plot. An artificial plot is something you have to wrestle into place, a structure you have to bend and mutilate and duct tape to get it to work — it is a square peg headbutted into a circle hole, and you’re the poor bastard doing all the headbutting.

9. THE TENSION AND RECOIL OF CHOICE AND CONSEQUENCE

An organic plot grows like this: characters make decisions — sometimes bad decisions, other times decisions whose risks outweigh the rewards, and other times still decisions that are just plain uncertain in their outcome — and then characters must deal with the consequences of those decisions. A character gives up a baby. Or buys a gun. Or enters the dark forest to slay Lady Gaga. Anytime a character makes a choice, the narrative branches. Events unfold because she chose a path. That’s it. That’s plot. Choice and consequence tighten together, ratcheting tension, creating suspense. Choice begets event.

10. PLOT IS PROMISE

Plot offers the promise of Chekov and his gun, of Hitchcock and his bomb under the table. An event here leads to a choice there which spawns another event over there. Foreshadowing isn’t just a literary technique used sparingly: it lurks in the shadow of every plot turn. Plot promises pay-off. A good plot often betrays this promise and does something different than the audience expects. That’s not a bad thing. You don’t owe the audience anything but your best story. But a plot can also make hay by doing exactly what you expect: show them the gun and now they want to see it fire.

11. LET CHARACTERS DO THEY HEAVY LIFTING

Characters will tell you your plot. Even better: let them run and they’ll goddamn give it to you on a platter. Certainly plot can happen from an external locus of control — but you’re not charting the extinction of the dinosaurs or the lifecycle of the slow loris. Plot is like Soylent Green: it’s made of people. Characters say things, do things, and that creates plot. It really can be that simple. Authentic plot comes from internal emotions, not external mechanics.

12. CHART THE SHORTEST POINT BETWEEN BEGINNING AND END

One way to be shut of the nonsensical, untenable plot is to cut through all the knots. If we are to assume that a plot is motivated by the choices and actions of characters — and we must assume that, because who else acts as prime mover? — then we can also assume that characters will take the most direct path through the story as they can. That’s not to say it’ll be the smartest path, but it will be forthright as the character sees it. No character creates for himself a convoluted path. Complex, perhaps. Convoluted? Never. Characters want what they want and that means they will cut as clear a path to that goal as they can. A convoluted, needlessly complex plot is just the storyteller showing off how clever he is. And no audience wants that. Around these parts, we hunt and kill the preening peacocks and wear their tail-feathers as a headdress.

13. ON THE SUBJECT OF “PLOT HOLES”

Plot holes — where logic and good sense and comprehensible sequence fall into a sinking story-pit — happen for a handful of reasons. One, you weren’t paying attention. Two, your plot is too convoluted and its untenable nature cannot sustain itself. Three, you don’t know what the fuck is happening, and maybe also, you’re drunk. Four, the plot is artificial, not organic, and isn’t coming out naturally from what the characters need and want to do. Five, you offended Plot Jesus by not sacrificing a goat. You can’t just fix a plot hole by spackling it over. It’s like a busted pipe in a wall. You need to do some demo. Get in there. Rip out more than what’s broken. Fill in more than what’s missing.

13. IF THE CHARACTERS HAVE TO PLAN, SO DO YOU

Many writers don’t like to outline. Here’s how you know if you should, though: if your characters are required to plan and plot something — a heist, an attack on a moon bunker, a corporate take-over — then you’re a fool if you think these imaginary people have to plan but you don’t. This is doubly true of genre material. A murder mystery for example lives and dies by a compelling, sensible plot. So plan the plot, for Chrissakes. This isn’t improvisational dance. Take some fucking notes, will you?

14. SET UP YOUR TENTPOLES

A big tent is propped up by tentpoles. So too is your plot. Easy way to plan without getting crazy: find those events in your plot that are critical, that must happen for the whole story to come together. “Mary Meets Gordon. Belial Betrays Satan. An Earthquake Swallows Snooki.” Chart these half-dozen events. Know that you must get to them somehow.

15. THE HERKY JERKY PLOT SHUFFLE PIVOT POINT BOOGIE

You’ve seen Freytag’s Triangle. It’s fine. But it doesn’t tell the whole story. This is the Internet. This is the future. We have CGI. We have 3-D. Gaze upon the plot from the top-down. It isn’t a linear stomp up a steep mountain. It’s a zig-zagging quad ride through dunes and jungles, over rivers and across gulleys. You’re a hawk over the quad-rider’s shoulder — watch it jerk left, pull right, jump a log, squash a frog. More obstacles. Greater danger. Faster and faster. Every turn is a pivot point. A point when the narrative shifts, when the audience goes right and the story feints left.

16. PLOT IS THE BEAT THAT SETS THE STORY’S RHYTHM

Plot comprises beats. Each action, a new beat, a new bullet point in the sequence of events. These establish rhythm. Stories are paced according to the emotions and moods they are presently attempting to evoke. Plot is the drummer. Plot keeps the sizzling beat. Like Enrique “Kiki” Garcia, of Miami Sound Machine.

17. EVERY NIGHT NEEDS A SLOW DANCE

I know I said that plot, at its core, is how everything gets worse and worse and worse until it gets better. Overall, that’s true. But you need to pull back from that. Release the tension. Soften the recoil. Not constantly, but periodically. Learn to embrace the false victories, the fun & games, the momentary lapses of danger. If only to mess with the heads of the audience. Which, after all, is your totally awesome job.

18. THE NAME OF MY NEW BAND IS “BEAT SHEET MANIFESTO”

You can move well beyond the tentpoles. You can free-fall from the 30,000 foot view, smash into the earth, and get a macro-level micro-view of all the ants and the pill-bugs and the sprouts from seeds. What I mean is, you can track every single beat — every tiny action — that pops up in your plot. You don’t need to do this before you write, but you can and should do it after. You’ll see where stuff doesn’t make sense. You’ll see where plot holes occur. Also: wow. A Meat Beat Manifesto joke?

19. BEATS BECOME SCENES BECOME SEQUENCES BECOME ACTS

Plot is narrative, and narrative has units of measurement: momentary beats become scenes of a single place, scenes glom together to form whole sequences of action and event, and sequences elbow one another in the giant elevator known as an “act,” where the story manifests a single direction before zig-zagging to another (at which point, another act shifts). Think first in acts. Then sequences. Then scenes. And finally, beats. Again, take that 30,000 foot view, but then jump out of the plane and watch the ground come to meet you.

20. YOUR SEXY MISTRESS, THE SUBPLOT

In real life, don’t cheat on your spouse or lover. Not cool, man. Not cool. As a writer, you don’t cheat on your manuscript, either: while working on one script or novel, don’t go porking another one behind the shed. But inside the narrative? The laws change. You need to cheat on your primary plot. Have dalliances with sub-plots — this is a side-story, or the “B-story.” Lighter impact. Smaller significance. Highlights supporting characters. But the sub-plot always has the DNA of the larger plot and supports or runs parallel to the themes present. Better still is when the sub-plot affects, influences or dovetails with the larger plot.

21. BENEATH SUBPLOT, A NOUGATY LAYER OF MICRO-PLOT

Every little component of your story threatens — in a good way, like how storms threaten to give way to sun, or how a woman threatens to dress up as your favorite Farscape puppet and sex you down to galaxy-town — to spin off into its own plot. Your tale is unwittingly composed of tiny micro-plots: filaments woven together. A character needs to buy a gun but can’t pass the legal check. His dog runs away. He hasn’t paid his power bill. Small inciting incidents. Itty-bitty conflicts. They don’t overwhelm the story, but they exist just the same, enriching the whole. A big plot is in some ways just a lot of little plots lashed together and moving in a singular direction. Like a herd of stampeding marmots.

22. EXPOSITION IS SAND IN THE STORY’S PANTIES

Look at plot construction advice and you’ll see a portion set aside for “exposition.” Consider exposition a dirty word. It is a synonym for “info-dump,” and an info-dump is when you, the storyteller, squat over the audience’s mouth and expel your narrative waste into their open maw. Take the section reserved for exposition and fold it gently into the rest of the work as if you were baking a light and fluffy cake. Let information come out through action. Even better: withhold exposition as long as you can. Tantric storytelling, ladies and germs: deny the audience’s expectation ejaculation until you can do so no longer.

23. ON THE SUBJECT OF THE “PLOT TWIST”

A plot twist is the kid who’s too cool for school — ultimately shallow, without substance, and a total tool. It’s a gimmick. Let your story be magic, not a magic trick. Not to say plot twists can’t work, but they only work when they function as the only way the story could go from the get-go. Again: organic, not artificial.

24. THE ENDING IS THE ANSWER TO A VERY LONG EQUATION

Plot is math, except instead of numbers and variables it’s characters, events, themes, and yes, variables. The ending is one such variable. An ending should feel like it’s the only answer one can get when he adds up all parts of the plot. This actually isn’t true: you can try on any number of endings and you likely have a whole host that can work. But there’s one ending that works for you, and when it works for you, it works for them. And by “them” I don’t mean the men in the flower delivery van who are watching your every move. I mean “them” as in, the audience. P.S., don’t forget to wear your tinfoil hat because the flowers are listening.

25. PLOT IS ONLY MEANS TO AN END

Speaking of ends, plot is just a tool. A means to an end. Think of it as a character- and conflict-delivery-system. Plot is conveyance. It still needs to work, still needs to come together and make sense — but plot is rarely the reason someone cares about a story. They care about characters, about the way it makes them feel, about the thing you-as-storyteller are trying to say. Note, though, that the opposite is true: plot may not make them love a story, but it can damn sure make them hate it.

* * *

If you dig on the apeshit crazy-face no-holds-barred profanity-soaked writing advice found here at terribleminds, then you may want to take a wee bitty gander-peek at: CONFESSIONS OF A FREELANCE PENMONKEY, which is available now! Buy for Kindle (US), Kindle (UK), Nook, or PDF.

#Plotting #writing #moffiss pay attention

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theworstbob · 7 years

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yellin’ at songs: june, week four

capsule reviews of the pop songs which debuted on the billboard hot 100 on 24 june 2017 and 23 june 2007

23 June 2007

28) "Nobody's Perfect," Hannah Montana

Ah, yes. This. This was a thing which occurred in 2007, and this is a thing I am certainly excited to reevaluate, given the general worth it has contributed to society in the intervening decade. This won't be the thinkpiece, of course, given that we have three Hannah Montana songs, two Miley Cyrus songs, and one Billy Ray Cyrus song to think about. ("Shake It," a Cyrus-affiliated production, does not debut this year.) So, this song. I am a 27-year-old piping a hot track from a Disney Channel show or original movie into his ears. It is clear I shouldn't be here, and for so many reasons. I did not need to hear that, even if I make mistakes, I will survive and be OK. I am an unexceptional white dude. I KNOW the world will always make a comfortable home for me. This gets a B-. I don't give grades, but this is getting a B-, because right now, I feel like a teacher reading the seventy-eighth essay on Langston Hughes they've ever read and just going, "Yep, you wrote the requisite five paragraphs, I don't care how many grammars you badded, you did something, and I'd rather just not read this anymore."

88) "Shut up and Drive," Rihanna

The only thing more important than dropping that first mega-hit is nailing the follow-up. You know you're probably not gonna go back to back (foreshadowing), but you still need a song solid enough that you won't fade from the public consciousness once the public decides they have overplayed your song. This song does its job admirably. It isn't anything world-shattering, but it's good rowdy fun, it's different enough from "Umbrella" what with its tinge of rock influence while still being uniquely Rihanna, and it has that big dumb hook that has anchored Dreamworks movies for a decade. This is not the best song in the world, but it's pretty heckin' sweet.

94) "These Are My People," Rodney Atkins

A stirring tribute to mediocrity, this song has maybe my least-favorite lyric in recent memory: "It ain't always pretty/But it's real." Two people wrote this song, neither of whom are Rodney Atkins. Like, come on. Like, this is a song about a boring-ass upbringing awash in all the country stereotypes, yet here we have Rodney Atkins, someone with an interesting upbringing who at one point was himself a songwriter, setting anything that could be unique about this song so that he can, what, make money off drunkards at the BPOE requesting this song on the radio? ...That is a jauntry fiddle this song has, though, I'll give it that. I just don't understand why these country dudes never tried harder. I mean, not trying has proven to be an incredibly lucrative path, but are all these country dudes so morally bankrupt they would forsake artistic pursuit for the mighty dollar?

95) "A Bay Bay," Hurricane Chris

Like, this is also dumb? But at least I can rest secure knowing Hurricane Chris wrote every single generic word in this song, and I know that Hurricane Chris truly believed in his vision of a world where white folks and gangstas could set aside their differences for one song so they could holler "A Bay Bay" in the club. And as much as I loved that sweet happy fiddle on "These Are My People," I would listen to this beat a thousand times before I listened to what is by country standards hella weak fiddling ever again. It's a dumb song, but at least I can believe in the message it's sending, even if I'm not 100% sure the message it's sending actually means anything. My memory's foggy, I'm pretty sure "A Bay Bay" meant "hell yeah?" It doesn't matter, we left this song in 2007 for a reason. Return home, young friend.

97) "Paralyzer," finger eleven

This song is pretty sweet. It owes a tremendous debt to Franz Ferdinand, but the world owes a tremendous debt to Franz Ferdinand for its ever existing, so it's hard to hold that fact against this song. Like, if you're gonna bite, bite from the greats, and if we're being honest, the buttrock twist on the great mid-aughts post/punk revival is kind of great? It gives this song an actual edge that "Take Me Out" never had, "Take Me Out" feeling like four fancy gentlemen taking you on a tour through whimsy and wonder. That song still sounds great being dragged through mud and pounded with ten thousand fists, and it even emerges with something like an actual attitude? It's an attitude of someone who doesn't go to nightclubs actually going to a nightclub and finding themselves overstimulated, sure, but it fits that attitude.

100) "I Wonder," Kellie Pickler

There are some cold, cold lines in this song. "I hear the weather's nice in California" is brutal, but "I look in the mirror and all I see/Are your brown eyes looking back at me/They're the only thing you ever gave to me/At all" is devastating. I also love that there's a country song about a mother having abandoned her child; mommy issues are relatively unexplored in popular culture, but ESPECIALLY mommy issues had by women. This is one of the more lyrically unique songs I've heard, and I really want to forgive this song for trying to be a bleh over-produced basic country diva ballad. It's like a Tootsie Pop; I know there's chocolate in the center, but I'm not gonna eat a goddamn sucker for ten minutes just to hit that one piece of chocolate. I procrastinated and am writing all thirteen or whatever of these reviews in one sitting aND THESE ARE THE SIMILIES Y'ALL SHITS IS GETTIN

i’m not copypasting the top 20s because neither of them changed, y’all know what songs i like, and if not, hit up the yellin at songs tag to see past editions (note to self: make a tag for these posts, why are you writing a recurring series and not tagging the posts)

24 June 2017

42) "Down," by Fifth Harmony ft./Gucci Mane

"It's like Bonnie & Clyde just walked in/A gangsta and his bride just walked in." ...Okay, well, I didn't think "But it's real" would be topped QUITE this quickly, but I mean, how is Bonnie... not... a gangsta? Like she didn't rob AS many banks as Clyde, but just because she was late to the party, doesn't mean she wasn't a gangsta, she still robbed hella banks. Also, "We on the same team and we ballin'/Got me showin' off my ring like I'm Jordan." Michael Jordan had six rings. Like I know your prison time didn't coincide with Michael Jordan's amazing run of six NBA titles in eight years dude, come on, get it together. Anyway, this song, it's OK. It bleeped and blooped pleasantly, and everyone in Fifth Harmony is at least OK at singing. It was a song I listened to and have on the longlist for year-end Top 50 Or So.

53) "To the Max," by DJ Khaled ft./Drake

this is a song most aptly described as another one. it's another song where dj khaled memes at the top. it's another song where drake sings poorly about some bullshit. it's another drum track i'd rather hear performed by a drummer. it's another one. dj khaled also memes at the end. i apologize for starting this review before the song ended but, as dj khaled just intoned, it's another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, another one, anot73) "4 AM," by 2 Chainz ft./Travis ScottThis was also okay, but right now, I'm like nine songs deep, and the best two have been the seventeenth-best Rihanna song (unscientific ranking, don't @ me) and a rip-off of a much better song, and I just, Travis Scott's fine. I like his particular brand of trap music. I like how the song goes out-of-tune here and there, it's a really interesting touch, it makes the song feel like you're awake at 4 AM and jumping every time something flickers in the window because you don't know what's supposed to move at 4 AM. At least I don't need to listen to the next one, he says, realizing this means the true next one is goddamn bro country with the words "small town" literally in the fucking title.

82) "Whatever You Need," by Meek Mill ft./Chris Brown & Ty Dolla $ign

I think it's admirable that Meek Mill has come back from being owned by Drake. It must be really brutal being the only rapper Drake could possibly ever own. I'm sure he has made delightful pop/rap garbage, and I'm not going to listen it 'cuz, hey, look who's there!, but I'm glad he's here, and I hope to listen to one of his songs eventually.

85) "Small Town Boy," by Dustin Lynch

The worst three seconds of my life were the three seconds after I forgot what this song was called and thought Dustin Lynch had another song called "Smal Town Girl." I was going to throw my computer out the window. It's... It's a less dramatic gesture than it sounds, I live in a garden-level apartment, there's a chance Bertha 2.0 would survive. Let's listen to the song! "I'm a dirt road in the headlights/I'm a mama's boy/I'm a fist fight/Kinda county line/Kinda cold beer/Little hat down/Little John Deere." There are 27 words in this verse and 15 of them are used to create cliches, and that's just, that's just efficiency. You're busy. This song understands that you don't have time to sift through a dictionary to read those words you love, so it gives them straight to you, no fancy city metaphors or adverbs, just prepositions and dirt roads. It's a bad song.

87) "Know No Better," by Major Lazer ft./Travis Scott, Camila Cabello & Quavo

Look, what happend to "Run Up" is one of the greatest injustices of the 21st centuries, but I am relieved that this is the song seeking to right that wrong. Two of 2017's most ubiquitous stars and, for some reason, Travis Scott being gentler and fluffier than he's ever been, making a song that's a nice place to be for a few minutes. I don't love this as much as "Run Up," I love few things in life as much as I loved "Run Up," but it's a neat song! Major Lazer is a rather good popsmith, and I might just be holding on to this song just a bit too tightly because ah geez y'all can see what's coming I'll need these memories to be my light in the dark.

94) "It's Everyday Bro," by Jake Paul ft./Team 10

If this is a joke, it's a bad one, and if this is an actual attempt at music, it is not worth acknowledging much farther than this sentence.

97) "Somebody Else Will," by Justin Moore

...OK, the intro was legit. Like, for the half-minute or so that this was a lightly-funky song, I was down, and then it Borchettad and I remembered that this song always had a ceiling, but yo, whoever wrote this and gave it that smooth-ass intro -- I'm looking at Tebey Ottoh, seeing as he's the only credited songwriter with a Wikipedia page, Tebey Ottoh! I'm picking up what you're putting down, and I'm kinda stoked to hear what you do when you're not working with a big machine. (It's really interesting how there's literally a country music label pumping out shitty song after shitty song called Big Machine, and we're all OK with it. Like, a business called Big Machine that puts out a popular product that actively worsens the minds of its consumer base is like a thing out of a Mystery Science Theatre movie. We don't talk enough about how Big Machine does exactly what you'd think a company called Big Machine would do.)

99) "Nobody Else But You," by Trey Songz

I haven't calculated how many artists from 2007 have had songs chart in 2017, but it can't be too many, right? It's hard to stay relevant for a decade. Even if you're a country dude, like, Rodney Atkins and Craig Morgan are fixtures in 2007, and I would be stunned if I saw those names in the next few months. Fall Out Boy and Foo Fighters released new songs that didn't chart, and Paramore only qualifies because "Hard Times" was big enough to last for a week. Lily Allen didn't last, Fergie's nowhere to be seen, Jordin Sparks made a respectable go but isn't showing up anytime soon. Two of the young women with 2007 hits ended up being contestants on The Voice. Akon might as well be dead. You know who has endured? You know who has survived, while countless others have fallen? Trey Songz. I can't think of a single live performance Trey Songz gave that showed the world how talented he was. I have never heard anyone on the street have a discussion about the latest in Trey Songz news, now can I remember the last thing Trey Songz did that could be considered newsworthy. I couldn't name any Trey Songz songs, and I am literally staring at the YouTube video for the Trey Songz song I just listened to. It is directly within my line of sight. I think it was called "Nobody Needs to Know" or something? How. How has Trey Songz survived this long. Who is listening to Trey Songz. Trey Songz has released seven studio albums. I don't know if I'm going to listen to them all, because there's music I'm more certain I'll like that I can listen to, but I have to figure this out, 'cuz man, I'm stumped.

again, no top twenties, let’s just get to what sort of matters but doesn’t, at all

Who Won?

...No one? I wanna say no one because I’ve been here for three hours and it’s a heat index of 92 in Minneapolis and my air conditioning unit is three rooms away from the room in which I keep Bertha 2.0, and none of these songs were worth calling winners. I guess 2007 had “Shut up and Drive” and “Paralyzer.” Those were solid Bs, plus you had the B- I gave “Nobody’s Perfect.” 2017 had at least three Cs, depending on how charitable I wanna be with the grade for that Justin Moore song with the cool bass line. But -- ah, I don’t wanna reward mediocrity, 2007 had the high points, let’s reward the songs I can honestly say I enjoyed. I guess 2007. I guess we’re gonna tie it up.

2017: 12 2007: 12

Next week, 2007 gives us Jack Johnson, My Chemical Romance, and Piles. Like that’s it. I should’ve waited until next week to procrastinate, three is much less than six!

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