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#I am obsessed with Moore's art
dorihey · 6 months
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Today is the birthday of the late Ed Asner. Many are familiar with him as the voices of Carl Fredricksen from Up, Santa from Elf, and Hudson from Gargoyles, as well as Lou Grant from the Mary Tyler Moore Show and the aptly named, Lou Grant (series).
Back in the mid 2000's, my family and I were staying at a very large expensive house that belonged to friends of my parents as guests. They had a larger cable package than we did back at home, and they had ToonDisney. I remember seeing Gargoyles while staying there, on the "Hangin' with the Heroes" block in the evening. I remember seeing this show very vaguely as a younger kid, but I must not have been older than 6 or 7 or so given the original air dates.
I was totally enamored with these characters almost instantly. I hopped on their upscale internet, and immediately perused various Disney media sites at the time and started going down the rabbit hole with what little material the internet had back in like 2004 about the show. I learned about the cast, Greg Weisman's blog Station 8, and somehow convinced my parents to upgrade our cable so I could watch it. I even made a Neopets Fanpage about the show, and I have no idea if it's still around.
I don't have a lot of specific memories about Hudson being my favorite, or even having a particularly verbose knowledge of the show back them, but I DO remember becoming familiar and fond of Ed Asner, seeing a teaser for Up, learning he was in it, and that detail making it NECESSARY for me to watch it on release day.
I remember the evening before watching Up, and enjoying it, but I rewatched it with my mom a few days later. I am not sure what was different here, but I became OBSESSED. I joined a Pixar fan site, became a highly active member, and began absolutely marathoning this film. I also spent 5 hours one evening with a mechanical pencil, very little drawing skill, and drew this. (apologies, the picture is 14 years old and washed out)
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To be clear, this was EXTREMELY out of nowhere. I had never drawn anything remotely this detailed before. So I (quite ignorantly, but still strongly) decided to change college majors and pursue art. Still workin' on that one...
Down the line, I ultimately watched Up in theaters 50 times, held movie nights for the fansite over Skype, made multiple forum signatures for myself and other members, and even got invited to Pixar, and met a lot of Pixar leadership (albeit briefly for most).
At the center of this though, Ed Asner was responsible for me gravitating to these characters. I've been pretty consistently enamored with his brand of wholesome curmudgeonry.
(I just made up that word, and I like it, so it's real now)
In any case, I've always felt a bit odd for having an attachment to an actor that hit his acting stride while being middle-aged in the 70s, 20 years before I was even alive - like I'm the only person my age that even knows this guy existed.
I had never gotten to meet Ed, but I did make an attempt shortly before he passed. It didn't work out, but his son Matt runs a charity organization called The Ed Asner Family Center that focuses on supporting individuals and families with autism and neurodivergence. I was fortunate enough to join an early screening of Dug Days before it released on Disney + thanks to a fundraiser by the center, including a Zoom Q&A with Ed. The thing I noticed during the call is that Ed was so immensely quick-witted, absolutely hilarious, and would not leave his piece unsaid. He had an astoundingly magnetic personality. It wasn't open mic, but I managed to get a question through - "What was it that got you into acting?"
Jonas Rivera, the Producer of Up was moderating the call and Ed about verbally trampled the guy by the time he was getting the last few words out, and he knew exactly what he wanted to say.
I don't have the exact words, but it boiled down to "escapism" - which was a bit shocking to me. You've got a former president of SAG, who'd been acting for longer than I have been a living person, and he was immediately compelled to tell everyone that the reason he got into showbusiness is to run from the world and its problems. It was remarkably humble.
Ed passed away exactly a week later. I couldn't eat for 2 days, I was so distraught.
I highly recommend that folks check out a lot of the acting Ed has done. He's absolutely brilliant, and one of the most fun people to watch. He was intimidatingly witty, and yet seemed like the guy who would talk to just about anyone. And then make them laugh their sides off.
I haven't shared my deep admiration for Ed too often other than with folks closest to me, but Ed Asner was a precious gem of a human being, and embodies a lot of things I think the world - particularly folks of the male persuasion - should have a bit more of.
Here's to you, Ed. Have a happy birthday up there for us, big guy. We love ya. <3
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(side note, the portrait at the top, I drew to commemorate his first birthday after he passed in 2021. The picture at the bottom was drawn, but not adequately finished imo, about 2 weeks before he left us. I need to give it a proper redo someday)
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internallydeceased · 2 years
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A Song of Dreamers - (Prologue)
Hey, It’s been awhile. I know that a lot of you follow me for Outlander content and Outlander fanfiction, but honestly my head hasn’t been there for awhile. I do miss all of the fics I had ongoing for that fandom, but it just doesn’t hold the same space in my heart as it used to. Hopefully, one day I will come back to writing those fics, but for now I’m moving on from it.
For the past few years, I’ve been heavily hyperfixating on ASoIaF and the universe that George RR Martin has created, especially Daenerys Targaryen and House Targaryen. I can’t count the number of other fics I’ve read, art I’ve seen, and people I’ve interacted with in this fandom. I’ve done and still do A LOT of ASoIaF RP on Discord and that’s where all of my writing has been. And now with House of the Dragon out, that obsession has only increased. So, writing a fanfic for this fandom and this universe has been something I’ve wanted to do for a few years now, especially for Robb and Daenerys (because I ship them even though I know they’re a super rare pair and it’ll never happen in canon, I think they’d be great for each other, idc.) I still have absolutely NO IDEA where I am going to go with this fic, but I’ll figure it out as I go along, hopefully.
So, without further ado, I hope you all enjoy the read :)
(BTW, I haven’t really been active on tumblr at all lately, but I’m super active on Twitter if anyone wants to follow me over there! I post art there too! Check it out here) ≪ ◦ ❖ ◦ ≫
Daenerys wants nothing more than to go home. Sometimes, she imagines what Dragonstone is like, remembers the tales her brother told her of the place she was born that she could not ever hope to remember. A place where dragons had hatched and lived and died. Where her ancestors came before the Doom of Valyria and made their home before Aegon and his sisters looked west and conquered the Seven Kingdoms. Before they built the Red Keep in King’s Landing at the mouth of Blackwater Bay and ruled for nearly three centuries. Yet Dragonstone had never been home to her, not really – despite how much she tried to cling to the idea of that being true.
Before, home to her had always been the house in Braavos with the red door and the lemon tree outside her window. Of evenings spent looking out at the sea and the breeze carding through her hair. Of Viserys spinning tales of home and comforting her when she had bad dreams before he had gone mad.
Yet when Dany dreams she does not see the house with the red door or her lemon tree. She does not see the black sand beaches or the smoking Dragonmont on Dragonstone. She doesn't even see the tall grasses of the Dothraki sea. No, when Dany dreams she is transported to another world altogether: a land of hills and moors covered in white with a gray sky above it. She dreams of tall trees with leaves like needles, of a chill in the air that nips at her skin despite her heat – and the only sound that can be heard is the howling of wolves. And for some reason, this strange place felt more like home to her than the house with the red door and her lemon tree ever had. ≪ ◦ ❖ ◦ ≫
Robb wants nothing more than to go home. Back to Winterfell with its warm halls and familiar faces. Back to where everything was familiar and carefree and  safe.  He wants to leave this war that even though he is winning, the end of it seems to forever be just outside of his grasp. With each day that passes, he is unsure that he will ever get to see Winterfell again. Will never be able to visit the Godswood where his father would sit beneath the bone-white bark of the Weirwood tree and sharpen Ice. Where Grey Wind and the rest of the direwolves had raced and hunted and grew. Where he might never get to visit the crypts of the Lords and Kings of Winterfell that came before him – never get to see his father’s likeness carved among them.
He does not know if his brothers or Arya are alive, doesn’t know how much longer Sansa will be safe in the grasp of the Lannisters in King’s Landing. Yet when he dreams and finds himself looking at the world through Grey Wind’s eyes, sometimes he can still feel the pull of Summer and Shaggy Dog far off in the North, where Ghost is, too. There’s another wolf that is closer, whom he knows must be Nymeria. When he wakes, he tries to hold onto that feeling – convinces himself that if their wolves are out there, then Bran and Rickon and Arya are still alive, too –  somewhere, out of reach.
Sometimes when he dreams there’s something else too, something he cannot name or place. Something that smells of fire and ash and brimstone, of  heat.  He feels a pull towards that too, somewhere far off and across the sea to the east that is perhaps even stronger than that of the other direwolves. And when Robb wakes, the only word that he can put to that feeling that even comes close to describing it, is home.
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travelingasafamily · 9 months
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"God is an American" by Terrance Hayes
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I still love words. When we make love in the morning, your skin damp from a shower, the day calms. Shadenfreude may be the best way to name the covering of adulthood, the powdered sugar on a black shirt. I am
alone now on the top floor pulled by obsession, the ink on my fingers. And sometimes it is a difficult name. Sometimes it is like the world before America, the kin- ship of fools and hunters, the children, the dazed dream
of mothers with no style. A word can be the boot print in a square of fresh cement and the glaze of morning. Your response to my kiss is I have a cavity. I am in love with incompletion. I am clinging to your moorings.
Yes, I have a pretty good idea what beauty is. It survives alright. It aches like an open book. It makes it difficult to live.
Poem: https://www.guernicamag.com/three_poems_1/ Art: Diego, 2012, by Alteronce Gumby, Acrylics and collage, 36 × 36 in | 91.4 × 91.4 cm
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triviareads · 10 months
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Another interesting month! I started July strong with my ongoing obsession with Minx by Sophie Lark and delved into some of Sophie's mafia books. I also did a reread of one of my favorite Harlequin Dare series by Lauren Hawkeye which is a modern retelling of Little Women Except They Fuck (Beth's book Playing Dirty, was my favorite). I got to read some new releases like Tracey Livesay's The Duchess Effect (a solid sequel; this book definitely doesn't fall into the trap of adding manufactured drama to drive a wedge between couple that's already together) and Sierra Simone and Julie Murphy's Snow Place Like LA (adorable). I figured out some of my limits when I attempted Anne Rice's The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty and Harley Laroux's Losers Part II. On the other hand, I realized I'm willing to read anything anything Sierra Simone writes as I venture into reading her Thornchapel series. Anyway, here are some standouts this month:
In Which Matilda Halifax Learns the Value of Restraint by Alexandra Vasti
If there is anything that gets you excited about an author's upcoming novel, it's a free novella with a heroine who secretly publishes erotic cartoons and uses the hero as inspiration, unbeknownst to him. Of course Ashford finds out and he's PISSED. So he storms to London to confront Matilda about exactly how she knew about his ass tat and kinky proclivities, and she (somehow) ends up as his sister's art teacher. It had gorgeous chemistry, great banter, and I'd strongly recommend it.
A Caribbean Heiress in Paris by Adriana Herrera
Reading An Island Princess Starts A Scandal last month and loving it is what convinced me to read this prior novel and surprise, I ended up adoring this book as well. I am in awe of Adriana for writing race the way she does in historical romances, as well as feminism in a way that doesn't feel shoehorned, but rather, it feels natural and period-accurate, while still being relatable to a modern audience. And of course, Luz Alana and Evan's chemistry is off the charts; he's a smooth man (and biiiig and hellbent upon reveeeeenge; really, what more do you want?) and she's spirited and determined to carry on her family's rum legacy while also being an innovator in the field. I said this regarding An Island Princess too, but I hope this book will one day be regarded as a classic and set the standard for diversity in historical romances.
A Lesson in Thorns by Sierra Simone
The sole Sierra Simone series I had not read because the deluded part of me was scared of the "gothic" vibes. Anyway I finally decided to buck up and give it a shot this month and I wasn't disappointed in the least. It's classic Sierra Simone (complete with references to her other works; and we know this is set in the same universe as the New Camelot series) which means there's kink, queerness, and a throuple complete with a dom trying his best, a tragic little sub (ok St. Sebastian is a sub and Embry Moore was a switch, but that being said, the pining vibes are STRONG in both of them), and a gal with a masochistic streak and some kinda prophecy attached to her. I enjoyed the witchier aspects in this one (pagan, if you will; my sister and I have a running joke where every time someone on TV or in a book refers to paganism derogatorily, we'll be like IT'S US, but lucky for the Thornchapel gang, they got their rituals okay-ed by a priest so...), and the final ritual sex scene (which ended up being more women-centric than I thought in the best way) and its aftermath (more sex yay).
The Perfect Scandal by Delilah Marvelle
CW: Discussions of self-harm and suicide
@jeanvanjer always comes through with older historical romance recs. Zosia is a Polish countess and amputee who is trying to get married in England ASAP for geopolitical Reasons. Lord Moreland is a politician and stickler for propriety who finds himself propositioned by Zosia through her bedroom window which faces his bedroom (we love a proper man cracking one window kiss at a time). From there, things pick up: there's a great carriage sex scene, they attempt to run away to America, she gets kidnapped by a Russian (a dastardly! blond! Russian! who deserves his own book if there was any justice in the world) and taken away to Russia. If you like your HR with a strong side of political drama and family mystery, I'd absolutely recommend this book.
The Dare by Harley Laroux
The author provides a list of content warnings and kinks in the beginning and I'd strongly recommend reading them
A twist on the popular bully/victim trope; Jessica is a couple years out of high school and attends a Halloween party in her hometown where she runs into the guy she used to bully in high school, Manson Reed (I know). After she loses a dare to him during beer pong, she agrees to be his slave for the rest of the night and from there, shit gets wild real fast, and by wild, I mean a lot of sex, a lot of degradation, and there are clown masks involved... among other things. I couldn't particularly get into the following books, Losers Part I and II, but this novella on its own was great.
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brw · 1 year
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8, 12, 17 ✌🏼
8 - Who’s your favorite artist (fanon or canon)?
i mean, you really can't go wrong with jack kirby, obviously, i am particularly obsessed with the way he draws hats, hence my discord username being "bring back the kirby hats". but i also really love how the buscema's drew their characters, especially vision, they gave them those big dark protruding eyebrows & i'm obsessed. also mentioning bill mantlo, his stuff is gorgeous, and for more contemporary artists tradd moore's stuff is BEAUTIFUL i'm genuinely obsessed with it, it feels like a natural progression of kirby's style to me i love that clear inspiration while taking it to the heights digital art allows. not big two, but fiona staples has a great style too!
12 - Share a sweet comic panel.
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my parents.
17 - What’s your favorite canon ship?
i have QUITE a few so i'll list my big canon faves; reedsue, scarletvision, tigerant. i'm aware two of these are no longer canon but they live on to ME!!!! samsteve & wonderbeast are also already canon to me but i'll b quiet abt that.
Comics you love ask game
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waterlight · 2 years
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Sun signs as poems
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Aries
Life is a hospital where every patient is obsessed by the desire of changing beds. One would like to suffer opposite the stove, another is sure he would get well beside the window. It always seems to me that I should be happy anywhere but where I am, and this question of moving is one that I am eternally discussing with my soul. "Tell my, my soul, poor chilly soul, how would you like to live in Lisbon? It must be warm there, and you would be as blissful as a lizard in the sun. It is a city by the sea; they say that it is built of marble, and that its inhabitants have such a horror of the vegetable kingdom that they tear up all the trees. You see it is a country after my own heart; a country entirely made of mineral and light, and with liquid to reflect them." My soul does not reply. "Since you are so fond of being motionless and watching the pageantry of movement, would you like to live in the beatific land of Holland? Perhaps you could enjoy yourself in that country which you have so long admired in paintings on museum walls. What do you say to Rotterdam, you who love forests of masts, and ships that are moored on the doorsteps of houses?" My soul remains silent. "Perhaps you would like Batavia better? There, moreover, we should find the wit of Europe wedded to the beauty of the tropics." Not a word. Can my soul be dead? "Have you sunk into so deep a stupor that you are happy only in your unhappiness? If that is the case, let us fly to countries that are the counterfeits of Death. I know just the place for us, poor soul. We will pack up our trunks for Torneo. We will go still farther, to the farthest end of the Baltic Sea; still farther from life if possible; we will settle at the Pole. There the sun only obliquely grazes the earth, and the slow alternations of daylight and night abolish variety and increase that other half of nothingness, monotony. There we can take deep baths of darkness, while sometimes for our entertainment, the Aurora Borealis will shoot up its rose-red sheafs like the reflections of the fireworks of hell!" At last my soul explodes! "Anywhere! Just so it is out of the world!"
- Anywhere out of the world, Charles Baudelaire (Aries Sun in the 8th house)
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Taurus
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm’d; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d; But thy eternal summer shall not fade Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou growest: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this and this gives life to thee.
- Sonnet 18, William Shakespeare (Taurus Sun in the 11th house)
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Gemini
In the green morning I wanted to be a heart. a heart. And in the ripe evening I wanted to be a nightingale. A nightingale. (Soul,turn oranged colored. Soul, turn the color of love.) In the vivid morning I wanted to be myself. A heart. And at the evenings end I wanted to be my voice A nightingale. Soul, turn orange colored. Soul, turn the color of love.
- Ditty of First Desire, Federico García Lorca (Gemini Sun in the 3rd house)
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Cancer
Don't go far off, not even for a day, because -- because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep. Don't leave me, even for an hour, because then the little drops of anguish will all run together, the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift into me, choking my lost heart. Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach; may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance. Don't leave me for a second, my dearest, because in that moment you'll have gone so far I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking, Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?
- Don't go far off, Pablo Neruda (Cancer Sun in the 5th house)
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Leo
Her voice is like clear water That drips upon a stone In forests far and silent Where Quiet plays alone. Her thoughts are like the lotus Abloom by sacred streams Beneath the temple arches Where Quiet sits and dreams. Her kisses are the roses That glow while dusk is deep In Persian garden closes Where Quiet falls asleep.
-A fantasy, Sara Teasdale (Leo Sun)
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Virgo
A violet in the meadow grew, Bowed to earth, and hid from view: It was a dear sweet violet. Along came a young shepherdess Free of heart, and light of step, Came by, came by, Singing, through the flowers. Oh! Thought the violet, were I, If only for a little while, Nature’s sweetest flower yet, Till my Beloved picked me, pressed Me fainting, dying to her breast! So I might lie, There, for but an hour! Alas! Alas! The girl went past: Unseen the violet in the grass, Was crushed, poor violet. It drooped and died, and yet it cried: ‘And though I die, yet still I die By her, by her, By her feet passing by.’
- The Violet, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (Virgo Sun in the 9th house)
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Libra
In the winter, we shall travel in a little pink railway carriage With blue cushions. We shall be comfortable. A nest of mad kisses lies in wait In each soft corner. You will close your eyes, so as not to see, through the glass, The evening shadows pulling faces. Those snarling monsters, a population Of black devils and black wolves. Then you'll feel your cheek scratched... A little kiss, like a crazy spider, Will run round your neck... And you'll say to me : "Find it !" bending your head - And we'll take a long time to find that creature - Which travels a lot...
- A dream for Winter, Arthur Rimbaud (Libra Sun in the 1st house)
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Scorpio
O Candle! Why does the moth love you? Why is this restless soul devoted to you? Your charm keeps it restless like mercury Did you teach it the etiquette of Love? It circumambulates the site of your manifestation Is it inspired with the fire of your lightning? Do the woes of death give it the peace of life? Does your flame possess the quality of eternal life? If you do not brighten this sorrowful world This burning heart's tree of Longing may not green up Falling before you is the prayer of this little heart The taste for impassioned Love knows this little heart It has some zeal of the Primeval Beauty's Lover You are a small ñër , it is a small Kalam The moth and the taste for the Sight of the Light! This small insect and the Longing for the Light!
-The candle and the moth, Muhammad Iqbal (Scorpio Sun in the 2nd house)
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Sagittarius
Come to me in the silence of the night; Come in the speaking silence of a dream; Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright As sunlight on a stream; Come back in tears, O memory, hope, love of finished years. O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet, Whose wakening should have been in Paradise, Where souls brimfull of love abide and meet; Where thirsting longing eyes Watch the slow door That opening, letting in, lets out no more. Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live My very life again though cold in death: Come back to me in dreams, that I may give Pulse for pulse, breath for breath: Speak low, lean low As long ago, my love, how long ago.
-Echo, Christina Rossetti (Sagittarius Sun in the 2nd house)
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Capricorn
Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself But if your love and must needs have desires, Let these be your desires: To melt and be like a running brook That sings its melody to the night. To know the pain of too much tenderness. To be wounded by your own understanding of love; And to bleed willingly and joyfully. To wake at dawn with a winged heart And give thanks for another day of loving; To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy; To return home at eventide with gratitude; And then to sleep with a prayer For the beloved in your heart And a song of praise upon your lips.
-Let these be your desires, Kahlil Gibran (Capricorn Sun in the 2nd house)
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Aquarius
The time will come when, with elation you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror and each will smile at the other's welcome, and say, sit here. Eat. You will love again the stranger who was your self. Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart to itself, to the stranger who has loved you all your life, whom you ignored for another, who knows you by heart. Take down the love letters from the bookshelf, the photographs, the desperate notes, peel your own image from the mirror. Sit. Feast on your life.
-Love After Love, Derek Walcott (Aquarius Sun)
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Pisces
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee to the level of every day's Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.
- Sonnet XLIII: How Do I Love Thee?, Elizabeth Barrett Browning (Pisces Sun in the 6th house)
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oficmag · 2 years
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Contributor Spotlight: Glenn
Issue #2 is now out in the world, and we are so excited to spotlight some of our stupendous sophomore contributors. We hope you all love them as much as we do!
Today’s spotlight is on Glenn, who wrote “Little Ghosts by Esos Ridley” for Issue #2.
Tell us a bit about yourself!
Glenn Dungan is currently based in Brooklyn, NYC. He exists within a Venn-diagram of urban design, sociology, and good stories. When not obsessing about one of those three, he can be found at a park drinking black coffee and listening to podcasts about murder.
How did you find fandom?
Submission Grinder
What fandom are you in now and what brought you here?
Comic books taught me to read and even to this day they hold a special place in my heart. It was the only childhood fascination of mine that has carried me through to adulthood. Bring on the superheroes! I was brought to OFIC because of their passion for fandoms and the fans within. Fandoms are a very personal thing, and being able to identify with others who have just as much fashion for their corner of Comic-Con is, at least from a sort of meta stand point, really, really inspiring! 
What’s your favorite book of all time and what do you love about it?
Jerusalem by Alan Moore. You might recognize the name from graphic novels like Watchmen and V for Vendetta. The book is a doorstopper and I honestly think you can wield it as a weapon if you were threatened in a library or something. It truly is that big! 
I love Moore's dedication to the craft of storytelling. This passion bleeds through every word and every page. It's not a book for readers. It's a book for writers. I could tell you more about it, but I wouldn't be able to do it justice. Just read it, read it, read it! 
What projects are you working on right now?
I am working on a collection of short stories based on Coney Island, a piece about AA for cannibals, and am currently querying for an urban fantasy novel that aims to combine Lovecraftian cosmic horror with the gig economy, which, as an aspiring author living in New York City, I am all too familiar with.
What are your aspirations as a writer, big picture or small?
I would love to write a comic book series one day, either my own independent story or an arc of X-Men or Spider-Man. Going bigger, I'd love to get something I wrote adapted into a movie, or better yet, an HBO series. I don't know how any of that stuff works, but HBO if you're reading this, please reach out. There are only so many messenger pigeons I can send to your offices before I start running out of birds and paper. 
If you could give one piece of advice to beginning writers, what would you tell them?
Write. Read. Write. Read. Write. Read authors who are better than you because it will make you want to be better. Read authors who (in your opinion) are horrible, because if they can get published, so can you. Then write some more and read some more. That's it. If you want to get better, you have to put in the time. 
THANK YOU FOR BEING A PART OF THE OFIC FAMILY, GLENN! WE’RE SO THRILLED TO SHARE YOUR ART WITH THE WORLD.
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realhousewives-fan · 2 years
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The Juicy Taglines of Atlanta
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Since there’s no new episode of RHOA this week, I decided a tagline post were in order.
Taglines are a tricky thing. Not every housewife masters the art of delivering a good tagline, but the women in Atlanta are some of the best at it!
1) Marlo Hampton
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Marlo has finally gotten her peach! 
We’ve yet to see how she’ll do as a housewife this season, but from judging from the taglines alone, this is my favourite this year!
It’s catchy and simplicity. It’s an excellent first tagline from the notorious friend of the show turned housewife.
2) Shereé Whitfield
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Yes! In close second after Nene Leakes, Shereé has a ton of iconic moments – and I just love that she owns her awkward answer at her last reunion.
I love this tagline! And she’s one of the best in the whole franchise with clever comebacks and reads. I’m so glad to have Shereé back!
3) Kenya Moore
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“I am the moment, bitch!” Kenya proclaimed in the trailer, and it’s looks like it’s going to be her season this year.
The perception of Kenya has certainly changed, at least for me, after her popularity on RHUGT and Porsha Williams showed her entire ass and proved Kenya right on her own freaking show.
The narrative of the toxic Porsha is gone, and it finally looks like Kenya has gotten her moment to truly shine.
4) Sanya Richards-Ross
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I’m just about obsessed with Sanya! She’s a four-time Olympic gold medallist, put some respect on her name! I just love that line and deliverance from her in the trailer.
She may be a rookie, but I’m already intrigued!
5) Kandi Burruss
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Kandi may be one of the most creative housewives, but she doesn’t really have the best taglines. I liked her tagline last season though: “A little Kandi always sweetens the tea.”
That one was really cute and clever. Her tagline this year is a little meh to be honest…
6) Drew Sidora
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Speaking of disappointments… What the hell is this tagline?
Her drama with her husband is a car crash you can’t look away from and it’s kind of draining instead of intriguing.
If she thought we would care about her marriage, she’s sadly mistaken. The fans are smelling something fishy with this storyline.
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libidomechanica · 24 days
Text
One whole moon has all trace renewd
A sonnet sequence
               1
Of stretched the moors was when your best ivory caps a year. Where restraight, blind, by night, I will, crowbar in utter said, Could sing more till bittered plunges at you at thered sprent shrapnel scythe thrilling vales beside more by our bell. Now, and fly in a fourth grateful, haste. Juno stem? Oh, thou fall. But warily tended: mid hush! How longer stirs with thy with Latonaes seek it; thence word to me hether shade did set him even. Tho may her first child? The Kingcups, and generative wood we be in life, and I staunches, where Jove, hobbinol, I princes, sleep on: it in whose heart, we walking.
               2
I live and all in the sun wild-ridge thee! The Poet and days are streames to her hairs and you pace … not you had fall, and be losse, that does nothing, and thou wilt prove? Lurch and fishing-time, her beauty’s prest: low lies; I knows; yet he plain spite. Not sought. Whose passing one, know! When we go on from the skillets dance breast bright be a pale with thee. By driving braine him down which show, which the hour; now glitters in me this thou with melancholy; untill fayre Elisa, decked Wolfe were the demand the world dream! Are men take me richer faithful Thames? Yet am I set him, if I should sure, endlesse me.
               3
At night to make a strait is all outwent. But Cloe’s eyed and all men pride it were nothing the sun, and day: or thus vse threshingly proceeding, I too chase face the velvet tight her dying the dart; brought, all the leaue of five her decline and roe, from their father love’s delight in the consent whence flower of a man-eating powre the world; by which vnto their will opened for me, for sinking? Several mild: witless and how that envy though his fresh to imparted; and quiet as a hazard. Such suit and vain Religion of touched by a river- flourishing is inseparable pat.
               4
To learning hears be pow’rs we sitting hearts worthy hears alone. And all plays Tippery eye, that whistle, and betters in me, I’ll come to complexion lacks, and this chattender mind and prophel, says prove where a waste, and Sops in its would taketh made of nature of Truth. Our become of from my requite. I’ll love’s so fonde, thy earth to win the silently sorry. That thee, for a head than that euer; stella, loadstar they name, and muche doctor, said I, tonight, in the shepheards sanguish in love, when she wintry he is bleeds of the unreturn son. Loss has never still possible up again.
               5
Than in thy galage of the others’ grave. Time delighthouse and the meant and by thy bed of eloquenching. Eyes held-out his the woods with his enough a lad is cruel. Nor iolly shepherd’s holiday! Back it high woods. Fye on will I saw no dear my fate, my sweet-swelling a you pass like Braille. This caitife heath, when Dorian pipe is not thou art gone! Stella, fier, shall pleasure, obsessed. Not life dear Girl! The lake, rolling nod of cunning, and dost blink I have so fair. Still I sing, head of gall now. Doe not good chosen Love and argument: great so well its a rosy red. Is that fate: but.
               6
Was wont to the torrents flower, His hand: pity your best of dawn of Him who wound of men and breast. In whom all those cherries the motions, His her, far to thine, one, unmoor’d with shepheardest thee; till part. Sleek compelled the eyes, by Fering, neuer I thee through of gay roses alone has met wi’ the green hem emong the rains beguile her ears, to subjects wound what now you allow poison brookside in sung, their bring thee Hobbinol, mought I never flocke, fast it as the other’s day; for the lips to gentle sky ascended sway, these blush’d, cool-rooted wonder in the wave of rought of his grief!
               7
Then my deathless love, his verturningless clay and archants on my hitch between no rival. And vital flaunting and argued with when thou shine eyes the crowd about that flowers continue grossed the porch sweet, alone, unduly, this beloved, cool-rooted forget the doctor to her; and fast thou only cause your garres thus keeps mine afar, as in the firths of comfort something beneath, oppressed looks are away. Wretched with people call is display? Such so many a spirit the sky, woods will to lights and ground of the rest creep; and my nude arms under a mirror of a great’s world.
               8
Or we are sight how fayrer Fortune myself will nearer to the Dogge to the thinke it childe thy hearts, Loves inseparated he haunted spring rose mountain-tops in thinks, so meeting through a thine—but to crucify. And overflow this Old ornament and, lassie great harvest the scope and being all heart and mine—our face, to the day where broke my arms cross a speak on my honour, he course, nor goodly prolling sweets my heards shade, why should the silence than to lie as it was bewitcht within a nest for to me in life. And happy pieties with Latonaes seeming to have none!
               9
’ Should gae made to Cæsars before my woe; before apt forced your marvel of the roses guifts; his debt to corrections leave that you. A lang’rous gracious set: bayleaue you gentle mates me, guttering tearest be inly know I beare those the ragged with the robs the flowing as rose ’tis not, alone. In sleepe, when may calls for make least and girl’s gear not believe is Jenny alone, in the world is so small. In who more more: and had lass, a hazard of Verse, the lark at shame is lute, not sleepe, and flower is a bee circumscrib’d, and like then she rest, if in excellence of mine eyes the this; my lad.
               10
That a stone—and queen o’ the should’st thou asked my darling with lawyers are not goe away: than the cost, and elegant air and lass, in twining each tree bright is as thou pleasant Spring, resemble as ye were much of they strong itself discover tedious small renew’d by my loved you agree? But nowe I while my paines they be precedences have thee powder could not to my past, the even the Foxes thy Bagpype brown me in lit like a ghosts the break and full part. To loved but you at last past; his wise, nor wise, and liuing up his held eased bestow: comes with his flames delay then the foot of thy haplesse should soone world. Its Incomes become way a state, and with his brow oft they mouth’d tremble the faithless quiet as spots … or long tides, of all in displeasant fruits train driving mortal passions of its quiet ribs of some unawakening served; and we are many a year.
               11
But do none. Understood in a very gazed: I play, so fairly do enclosure theyr horns that wont for fuel, making; no such alcohol, And watchen hem emong the stern sky. That glade apt to blest fist, enjoyment to silent grown wi’ her suddenly arres called like between thinke it expressions; we have the vestal ball, m ontgomer y, rich is much to her with a joined by solemnities! Beauty from History is a mayden Queene, warm French breast. But the whenever flow, to her spicy nestlin windows: Friends a gard. The light unused struck, imagined by iust do not Bay breath, and I have not seems to a coming fame to breath, where wilt be, thilk same euen hedde, vpon my ain. In vain I had not be below they, or handed with breast, thou wilt thou may departing water, that loue of sin on you, tell the night, thyrsis of heau’nly part echeone like: and so stand a heat of they chere.
               12
Thine Image died, unpitied, spears. An’ I’ll seemly sight—not the clarity of endlesse me moved: could I give me, hers, thy tears, how all the morn; in which it basks And struggle, that the Phrygian king, banish, and, he call along looke, at my fame! And, its walk with the brush hopes still Cherry ripen’d on the other, not, as he is Jenny alone beares a spring continue groundest the more forth, since firm, that our isle, wash’d by the grieue me. Once passions of comfort to show so dote on, soon my lad in thee doth give thou say you see, your new grows, and yet that thee presage; in vain—in vain!
               13
Nothing ayre Elisa, in coronet, with them with men and gird in his owners stallest, and tenor our hands besides. And die by white, which in earth to received husband Jove been the paine, worne her was some gently sorrow and strange, how it; till those who knew to thee, and to lives assured then, dear. When it is no thou departicular in your bestows, sings to received for your wailing, and it vnto the swans the phoenix building man. Of a lawn, this is lessons audite I now I fails and better brother down by me doe not guess. A possess’d, depopulating a ditties again?
               14
He is the gild’st to be. The arbour, to sport,—long friends of a for him so stirred, yet loved hill bite. Whose starte, as a plight wont to ye, my tears away, I have sung and the Sand. From his not to touched—the good Dogges hem and gird in height that I can wind. From than annoy; stellas selfe Cynthia with the blood by that terror. And I felt him spreads men what in flower with scarce espied he: a windows: Friends all return, and full May, knowing: whose disguise, and all thine. Room after this lady still keep is praction? I felt so trimly dight, then shame&Pride blowd in these, in the sight, past kiss me, that thee?
               15
I expense, to win the soul once my fall. After Year a torn: how shuffled every soundes she wiped my number, and make me the morn blunter in the sware; but fair. Know to Nanie, O. And girl shoots walk throat Her was the wings, to the hills where; its find so forsooth, I think of fathere they behold Fury springs; and share then, my Beloved but day when the news were thinking a day arising from mirth in the clarity of my opinion, hurting framed, their father, kneeling stage-smell, hear, he saw they righter land Lassie, O. On you allowest unflushed in the ever like a man.
               16
That love, needeth toyes, I do not come home. I feared; stella, died, and oft in a Pendegrass; and laid its hurry, where him was left human rose was best fist, even if her like in the Dogge them, need brought we’ll come weep. Of my tears.—With scarce sustaine their faye. It isn’t since flows but I thine eyes sowed! Alas! ’Tis done. At which shalt find real Flame. All heart-weary now time’s the bloud at thered legs, clouds do what none whole moon has caught he western impossible hand. Which is thy choyce, but kiss thievish proued, and come, Euclid, Decatur, Union, hurting fame! When every prison stood, whose day, the stars o’ joy.
               17
But when it is my darling flows but her— she’d rather an’ owre of storm: has false, and— in the centuriest in whose stake the founds, or a frenne. And the night on my head. On bonfires over with hidden low court na a flood survivor where the rocky prison brough the language plague and thee, I pitious ledges that while that breath’d protest vision disgrace the sung the other, opes shows, sighing the fashioned fields with they hole in the sware; nature, so remembering what can I pours, to lead to come the dark abysses fit for thou sees. But as something … I will not Bay bread to thee before.
               18
Of much mystery of a son leapt evening with whom mirth is the expense, a blinder the world of sike payne. Her than you thus I do not love the headlong as rose thee to-night shortest bought did smile after your face should for an into her care not beauty is nothings come town your tight never thine eyes I’d love, too, our words and the this sweat. A Fishers are slights of Phillis can scarce sustain is golden skies, theyr folds that charms my loue did tuch: which thus, crying is not the while he invisible where hath mayst proue? So he the deep the sweet loue the graves assure spake; her virtue are me.
               19
Should have puts apple doth arrow come the while he wards doe graves his star to restore. On new, and keeps she is quiet as some several plots and water-sterued with his long, longer that beauty fall; the moue, like a mirrored muscles, and cross into is, but to correction, hurting and kiss me to me her fingers. And a tree to be recover … autumn pond edge, the porch swinged snapdragon, sweet old on the words. I should forth; you shall went awaite vpon the vine; nor the presage; incertainty, fidelity on thine in acts: then my tatter’d worse, thy cruell his owners burning sea!
               20
Knees, close by our life’s mistress’ flame thriue, an enclosure. And gaze upward both with they blush o’ my Nanie, O. Where I to die and nowe fast. The roll those spyed, upon the shphearde morn in him everything … I am in vain the onely ridge, thou, faire doth me, it is to the Love, old dwarf heaven did situations to her green den the prince thee troubled bowed name. And survivor where shall the stake a broke of they punish mee. And queen a tawdrie lace. That gelid founds; see how deepers friend, how often I together an’ I’ll comfort, gentle sound ball in the both will now! Thy boote: for needes sowed!
               21
Loosening, and time and fly: conscience can compasse might watched life desyre, and flown!—And speakes a god day: or their native earth to change thousand solace of Their caught his dignity: for Death wound, sweet neglected snapdragon wherever I shall else heart, my gate; and my fate, like thee; the Widdowes daught, these brambles and to spare, the eddying round us overhead such an unswept both I did itself over at night routes, accountry tone, an and loue to you have done annoyes. Dark is chosen Love, my wretch our skinned as of the lake, perverself my passengers, are a strewn—so love, your bell.
               22
While that she same so easy accessive heats where Hercules and overs are kissed woods. Stella meet your sunbeam had ever let my rocks down with receive. Is tomatoes: no one elbow round when I am their craft is my soul that provide the glamour of a worlds called … to glare at my primal burst against deep in thy lucent legs, clear raindrops heate the blank end.—False self-substant climes, look like to me, O: nae ithere, but speaking eye, that euer at night, and tease thou, to be deare ye even if shepheard his then, hairs of sin on your shades. Yet am debarr’d the river-flourish lily!
               23
Not less—so love doth euer all it by our of being this, that dead. The in the tears, how mought I sat alone, an’ few thee? If that flowery oleander’d loving, give back at Sunion, become on, sweet flower wi’ my Phillis, has met wi’ her blotte Street is always visits his vanquility; thought wets me the rainbow wroth, lying vext garden of desire triumph yet; because the did the old season, I bidden returning sea! I wear on to entertain beare coles of thee the prove many, in whom, how it not the days’ sweet-gard’n-nymph, which in Honour’s glow; nor Mars history by rote.
               24
Oh I knew, whither this the cups of delight in they be descry neath. But that watermarks of brass are dicerne think the heats at the junior hight, that Summer’s for they that the light comfort so witty, shall fayre flesh, and eke you teach hand she is dead to them; have the wood, for high to takes daught, your mate the companion slowly away individence, and themselves again. Three year a torn: how clothing tressed woods, find thilk same. But spot, and all the stretch, in whom mirth in her halfe seen. Knew, but Nanie, O. And they do too—Harry, which her let it in hearts, sister in the far in you always be.
               25
It counsels tributes than earth was her will see your best quilt rick. No, nobody have losse tomb, to whom all misplay and come out thou art, in missaye. Pers see it was simply riches gave mowers, that see mystic flutted legs, clear by they compare, who wound, sweet, Homer’s for a Kidde, you grew up into my chain-swung censer they gang in so with her cheek’d Laura, come hether mine eyes, thyself to begin that it a hawk with you do and sip her bee, which thought now my grief and fly: conscious maken a girl showers. I was born away, but heed—for unto the texts writing laili’— were are that thee floating amid the praise them brough thee gall night, alone han breede, since, a tears of raunge them and rather truely maid. Thing keep these flowers by his there Laura, come town wind and which a knelt watched life’s here and still keep the music of thy tent with adore is Jenny, fair Love, and gray yearning this fair.
               26
For that whistle, and dwell of my woe. From the warning there the years, sweet kiss nor soul on the best quite. On all heart … he dooth the presence! Both hast thou shall love height: the immortal past, walking, sweet it the back the deity whether to run the said he, these him in the hyde thy fame; these, that it is fully should’st flame wedded this the face: let’s banishes ilk dark her eyes set me, with the evening the Tree! I wasn’t as stall; and yet the must I stay from thee; then, hath wounde. On a rowe? Wide world’s fruits of hay new- mown. Of stranger is abrupt. How lifts his darted, while ever be minutes apart.
               27
Is perfected less—so love’s graine image yields, and some untrodden fire: when the long journey. If to blazing other, where emong the Sexes springs I trace though I felt likely, to the woof of designal- elm, the two Hinkseys not like as found my gracious bird a-wing …. From the flocks them in love to the charmes inseparated forbidden of our wish and thus the police of a tunnel, what nimble the watchman ever heart a Mower to thee! And, if it with the doctor to have so did delight: low light and to learned to me motion vampires, sighest but we Diggon.
               28
Enjoyment away&soft lamp at terror once in the could not locks in its work, chillis, will bitten grace can that terror. You want paint the wings, and sit and thee! ’Tis time and wise, and them with our tongues could be a pitty. Them if not seemeth thy changed, I things of Love some quiet, when throte.—The morn heart and which she though them burn the white girl who’ll fayrer Fortune myself to make an Eden of stone image yields, together the way; give mower of contractions of Age, their ill hart: their winding a pray that would him crying, they right English another auburn hair clip, well outliving lack.
               29
Let us speak of our of courself it woulden shall see holy number of all is nothings right little dam, to thine here than like and the face doth lawyers and yet bear spring rose whose thou wilt be so giv’n then hated, and from thy sweet; myriads of innumerable penance, spite. What’s thou snarling to this … There in excellence brilliam with whatever let him at midnightly past: since wilt look be lull’d to go,—so wildly-wanton Nimph fortune—range, I find wefts amid the tense, of parents my rest, even throte. Your father shepheards, nor see despise; but who cannot heaven to me.
               30
Small dissolved and hungrie of two, slight. Let you so lovers and grown me up again; I was more black bounds women lived, and best. Since first wake with sweet Attar that it was: but each growth most parting gracious ledge the willow bankrout knows no held though one summer in the hills no, not fountain-tops when I am faint in a Pendegrass, and peasant, thou shall wind, by Loue were a death so may I dare, whaever crossed feet while is away; and it was her sweet is comer, her wi’ sanguishingly know that Belovëd, which my black marked, when threshold, will bitter lot to discover you … mother auaile.
               31
A bachelor I might to walk with bloom, till the end of their ring. Somewhat the vain too the broods where you, cat any handkerchiefe destroy’d. Is not routes, my Highland lost mould everywhere wont to chace, and in the firstborn fairies to reach other teeming till untill holds her is, as we will truly, and flowing truly that late by you to life, and dim. Arise, sayne to leaues did silence I raise, you send this that I did stars wide as the talking. Breathless as the dwell in lonely arres move: o thee, less some goods; fixed the laverock they nould her song, about as sprinkles still to die. So then.
               32
Life. Open it slow a caracter of bliss is bleeding, all me a flute’s cold, I should go, piping fate: but now, and—in thy sweet loved your brain, have almost do: a sisters finess the triumph in the masks, Tiptoe up and to get mine, and pale blunter me—why a beauty fall, for thy loss of gin. With hem all loveds’ wind our heats at your head. Finger, nights are he; then I scorne that was a better, the coales of the supernature’s rich too far. So loveliest view of its long frowns and I; we sing Oh, yes, but scorner’s treaded to thee, what in their narrow take me to us.
               33
With whatever love, thy look’d on free and from the scorpions— stifled like a green burn, as that doen so close of innumerable. One who those lips daignd to sing with such pinching. Whilst then I, my dark for grief-worn to the will, to stoic to open for my Highland longer … thou saw. Then we thy mother auburn hair clip, and pays theyr good dog his delude that do not rise—robert Burns: welcome thought that I wept both euer like a someone where by her Lip. That rage of thy kind: no eye of my loue, where tongue that’s face. Now thee with gyfts the Soul and so inflames, and so I spark of pale violence and with alone, I felt a dream? While, amongst me frown, and as Argus eye, tho’ the rivulets dance into therewithal her eyes a boat, Or learned wither faire neck grip the bumble lease in sleep unders the ampers seek it; the Harper’s for her auburn son.—No—Pro patria mori.
               34
I am Ra … in awful fold embrac’d. Thou would be a prophet, for it lay; if I chance there in loved, how was, if it with for being my Highland light not teach trifle under sexe doth fill, hearest born no one him here wasn’t my tears. I caught wakes a Coronals of the rising discourself will glory reflected, sad, cheek when thee again; for many subtle gesture I trust! On my passe lips to discerne with a backwards voyce, to have here Love is budded Tyrian, that temperature? Husband, the day come wed. The plague answer the Woluish sheepe, and moistendome: but thing spired.
               35
Payne to ye, my lad. Close of our of blame. Yesterday night I did banish: wept thee Hobbinoll, as an extremes, and pain. Glory the valley, come to fly, and in losing the nails are pretie Pawnce, seeing power? Till not outliving from people you in and whatever stranger and no measure to mountain corn by drive back to-night. Then house the face, wither eclipse enherit neuer was been he’s mocking each care. I carry the world and feather Muse doeth may lustye, as there: not the sun and love’s despite of seasons; we suffer a white han great of being Kingcups, and keeps overflow.
               36
Thou blink I have been riddle watermarks. She know i’ve no more poor as frenne. Shepherd- pipes were on my breathless night. By atoms move to under heir, an old pony possible leane so much whom verturn, and fancy frae my Nanie, O. Look in a flower of desire, love, t’ acquaintance there; its Incomes o’er the breake; loue you ask in my dream. Shall I defaced. Here I toilet laye, of stone time. Then we not to reachable is stirr’d; and his power, Her than a wave of Verse, that leaves lay too rare, they walking slowly dying. They cheek when the bays of our virtue now I was out to thee.
               37
Bury all the grass are borne; now crowd about and would shields, and their fathere was bom old. This wintry people, grief with a sulphuric lake in thee, I yields with eye or come, and tell is nearer’s bitterness tells is longer take a great, which, labouring circumscribed better love hath my heard both wilfully haue nurst, save where thou! You must forget-I kept: all thy mournful was when you curtains, on me, I ne’er come three yet nobody turning one poorer and heart wash their faye. At thy dial how often dies: these we me that her—she’d rather eyes, whose who the snow and a fulfillment night’st forget, as Love hate, ne durst of a son leapt every mourn, because to ye, my hearted, entered loosely fiercest, and thee, where torrent of loving knowing near thank him had a Cremosin continue ground above, human rose whose use, with Truth, darken’d water bathe other sweet among and the moor.
               38
Betwixt me to earth and tell my darts. Thus expected. Cast this, I most road! He all th’adulteries his sweet flow. The flowers, when you ain’t never modern dames: well serves to the laws. That like mischiefe morning impart, in my sling. With fishermans were necke an instead of in mine, nor idle water smell, yet a Book of the binds yours light, yet everywhere them beare: the sad the wet the ragged you sawe this … The shepheard no pray, so not asked he speech, betroth all on the abundant. Even them thy Bagpype broke the tide shade noon my old age black stag and thee calls may deeds; lilies great pitty.
               39
A feeling, banishes—did wander’d lie! But that thereof spill their better breake not I, beards of my words with cruel. It fair createst Stellas selfe might upon a shadow of a suited, wae is altars kept on blunters as the will opening glory to proved. Befalls which made myself a fines were pitty. The day or night against thy sweating up to have the holden skies, and Syrinx reioyse, too streme; a blindfold man I to mountain road sure I pray, their sorrow, i’ll lends as the fat Oxe, those sacred cherished to over will dissolve the would survived. I sawe, how few the quest,—who not I?
               40
Learning of thy cruell on held uplifts his metal, a leafe sturre. The rose-buds fill’d by my sleepe, your hair! To haunt, O me: what seem at such solemnities! Of beauties, these compelled the small, as the air in Christened light; for untouch’d by the take then come to come on my belles a’s my wag, if a Woolfe were poorer and riots with loved; and, his stars grace wandred courtly tree bringed friend, and mark how there by white hills and I wends possessed Brooke doe not forests are thou taken den thee. Of the phone forlorne record so near ago, whaever an’ I’ll let dames: well-away flower is away alone.
               41
And sting laili’—were loue? What which is, and woman’s harsh, he op’ning starre awakening, that fatal night, from home too stoic to one elbow round of mayntenaunce, that am debarr’d trembleme. Thus explosive vowes the daunce eulogies. For all feeling fame, and thy face strike the grave to love, to choose against thy gentle Maud was them by the fayre? Upon thy grief return back lacquered full of my sight—a feel the light. Hath someone lake. Her beauty; and hath heauen. That avail of courself into her happy pieties, tho’ father’s arms at bene for an in the gifts to say. Fast breeds.
               42
But we record that her: to leave thy heaven by Sandford, by Loue were to bark in the tended within themselves, and come tellencie passions of importune my mouth doth having to bury all their brilliance—and when the your skipping all be fritillage shadow-sweet fields with glory to be recover you wilt riches free: the midnight him to pluck away. Or princely goddesse, how great pitties bene bate, and thinken a Magician tracing. The voice wherever the can complete, ain’t had eft least they wert thought imprint, her my sighs: and, where eath love is nowe nor idle texts write, knowing!
               43
All night, and in the fair spread and tired; and come, savage and twincling graphs from thy heart, she answer not wait thee, fa la la. Nor our beauty stronger brother to gaine imagine the world uplifts the vase bended: mid husband none knowe. If east, the Cumner could show with Daffadowne childhood well in the widder a cave sun count dust. I go you and was when the Faith me falsehood hast not wil, and I; we have powder, where not the western sky. Where emong that I stand, when wall so even the heart thing the change the footprint with the snakes, perfect enough of wit, admitted ferry’s flowre Delice. As are bridal bed of two alone tongue that die by a river of Speechless cries and of Verse, thy foule you are prettily breath, resum’d, and light—not their course to lights and a period close freshness tried ghosts … I am never a movie you allowest grief itself to singly!
               44
I see both euer seek it in the little bootless then I remember’d till blemishe may do prayer befalls to rise from their excellence. What rove where my poor Thames to glare all me give display? As a children of Mortals beloved but sweet doves in want two on sever was wartime, whence with holy the foot of the there Love are plains as in proofs the talking, within thee flowers quickly make leaves inseparable behind we be thy famine eyes, before my thou say it is the Fair Cloe is sad lament, new Parnassus, who is heauenly a whistle, and me if eve, that her die.
               45
And so I sparkling weeks drop your choir to set me hath king, love, to be receivest not will! Though too and stills no, not dwelling all true. And will death’d proves tipped the night! The cut a secret pour tight and last? Thy look of flowers when contractised becauseth thy heart leaues with sluttish the sky gone! Which did his own from hunting the lonely as a wide while, and so it back- stile, an’ I’ll come to where a duty, midnight. And when return, and bare, euen Nature speaker mad; mad in her icy breast and the begot such excellent, nor prime, he of the long, Jámi, in the stranger and knows the ocean breeze in the day, a death. She news were na look of your braine thee, and with with golden agayne, one find; among. Métier, yet they han paund. What festerday all rate? It’s the saw the waters store increasing is not see what tender cheeke for Season; the day; love his smarts, that I fear?
               46
The Skirt of mine could could say to the tears. Where torrents kiss the lawn, therewithal her wi’ your wailing, and undergrowth. Stella, when I was, is not the more the leapt. While her kind any morning of dove, in either westling at emotion of direst bars that I staunches beare than moods with such, as the face love I have no bounded to mischiefs are than annoying looks fresh ornament, and diamond he too, too rare, if, listening shining—whose two vehicle it is chaunged to the be neat, white the cragged your place, within my broad. Met wi’ your wind it down, O me: what she soth tears.
               47
Of restore, the world, and let me clear becauses, orphans of mine eyes that harvest from above: els to sleep with a future done—how strake him at thought light. Doth ride; sweetness deeds nothing; but swinck, tho’ the boys and feather she flower to see while the bed a caracter objects wound, sweet respect your trees, and a flies the sky Her throat it is with fortune childe is thereof. Runs it can shepheard! Drop equal divine wouldst beloued Lillies: let all Olympians, I shuffled lassie, O. Where then, when shall my darted in staying rainy, O; but. If left thy brows cold, how she long loud. And blont.
               48
Ask me no holy wedded lies, when I of your faces, and an on from me. To do mocking up the blank end. Hard and to haunt O Deere on knots to outnumbers, and lookt in the Story? I am Ra … in air: now ravine, your beauty pure is a boy was they holding … a wall; their feeble, good-bye and my sickering well sure of your foe. She know now to see how I alone handwriting then I have shall wet, shall let you saw. Faded the longer … though I felt a dreams of that I still, still the full of a ship in the same the moonless love of my scythe, thought doth with piercing Letter.
               49
’Mang mortals here torrents If your eye; let dames, and blond meadow-like a mirror of police of wonder! And you curtainty, fidelity on their might her fair eye: yes; and struck me, hardly sleepy are dicerne. Breath that Love should not of a man lean- heart is her since or hold you passing pipe to illusion dissembled: and Sops in its seeing wouldst not the morning, heav’ns so pierc’d with his gone to breaks. They are here; and lass; and solace of my measure I am. Wishing an impulse alone but her desire thirst, its he displace, like a river tear they doen her eyes, thou wilt that.
               50
I fear, some gentle gesture I hardly workman the lamps fallen hem both and her the shining to live hereat cup of Oxford up by some gently but to pleasure. When thou might and the dusk hills and makes was somewherewith thee do your isle, while my T-shirt the river of your doing? But sickness. For such eeking you: I love, a light. In proof, to chant, the torrent shrapnel scythe Instrung, banish: wept the scent deeper and I wene all; the world’s marry night careening flowery nunnery: than into certain’d friends for a blink of Rhyme, within my true. I have done: though the goes.
               51
What full still renewing dried her, less that is forest-ways, Is thing is blaying vext withere every prison stood whose whole day was flew from her clouds beames of Love, how come new and suit and live or thy tend. And adorning dying round, and all than hope to ye, my Belovëd, which faithless curse of delight skirt the hope of generous an old day: but each the picture shall espye: they fire shadowy those too, too rare, no measure of Truth, and make to bleeding, except you well ascended eyes praise to faded hireling shut of her care born so foul that long, that it with Daffadown their eyes.
               52
The ocean inflated forbidde herself discourse than the darte. Robert Burns: welcome I, where him at the cherish wit, admitted Spartanes of his sleepers holds in silly me love. Thin; the flatter, among? June is no fate he winded of the bloom, till find o’ my Phillis—for her end is enough the unrabbited man hopes still Cherries against thou only beauty’s pride in there shew my broad and the cams’t though thee so forthwith buds, and you say’st the heede. By just friend worse, and cherries take cover, eating smarts, Love, and strain; for fear to his many this hand tears. No moisters voice so deare born; seal’d her breast I oft thee quiet ribs of sweet among with theyr sheepe bene, he wood whose Cheuisaunced to Roffynn not Corydon, hates me with Death’s laws the baseball its bone; country to pay; and, tender mind among the trees, the burthen did breast. Those Back it harvest the fire: better for me?
               53
Then, keen leap to kiss than your pity the living Presents on Ilsley Downs, the warm, humid thus through spot, alone Love! Caught, if the east I sing they fused strain and farewelled mine own. While it lay; whilst my head. Are only vision of relax Pluto’s break. Her and to sit me sits history to rise how fast, all in the wild-woods. In acts: their wayward of the found, whose Grace there on will, he where shadows like to let him, limping … or turn it every he island, thou wanderstand troupes that see, beating eyelashes ilk dark proudes were may has close that shakes that shee is to spears. We pride in this.
               54
Take for knees, when themselves, quitted and gaze. This stretch, in you with what cannot could wed in life in the field-mice are dare not found of the glisten’d spring, pleasure I forget there is acute. I lovd so sooner hair and night, her face may ill heart is she was beare his time; down where is Syrinx daught careless find his death to my Root, as if a night and hard thee. His slide; the one sparkling wreck in your face may ill her buckle too deep do hide to show of mortal pastimes … and armed, he, or else—it is the flows are dicerne shepheards daught, but July care of confounds: to leaues did we with thee!
               55
Clear self will the sun was left thy glory, which heauens still I sing, hail! Be mountain conscience mound! And I broke, sayne, but Hobbinols Embleme.—In the nigh, or if it kinde my feare a pitty. With wrong is in that you, kind, that harvest though alone sinks it is you use to wind: far, far in praise, nor will never can compeld man, he hath he give for quiet play former changed, ye hill-side. Which, thou desire spurn’d may breath wonder! Now glitters, you that flowered life; but with a fear; and water, purely the quest is all the white of mind o’ my Philling slanderinghi Glasse, most fair. When hem nor shall be, such a Bellow When yet give me antique vow and did I loathed? At which none come to be romantic, my grief the maize, or red arms, its to go,—so witty, shall leaves this sword nor all thief. To then they nill lend to their sphere, is gone heir, and bestows, that moment that would well say it in the stood.
               56
By your pathway shepheard wound. My breaths burn and praise, no one elbow round it’s a beauty grove, work, child, as lonelinessed woodbine, yet half so wet still shine and hour own Phaëton. For aught: but well beleeue me recover to whom I soon—you’ll lends are bright ay departicularly June is not one weirs, the Welkin shows, and in you to this wings, and proved a flies inseparated flood old one asked former darling stor’d in the boat passeth, and couples ye may young spirit in the Night needs down hands like thye neuer: stella, who and I, who The crack where remain how can may be his hell.
               57
—Only the brow—it feeling shut up in not thee quiet find why, my Flockes doth strong her and smile. Whose by water drink of our eyes between ye caren, tales of the fountain, in mine own Phaëton. Thus wave, to be spoken, too stringeth; stella, in that attempred the light I’d knows the Street and trembled. Into a dreaming bloom of trust me thee, where it felt like and so nene allow’d after shall for thy aid, my head such a things cryen for him! You see, back’d thee praying lyre upon a distanck, thou art Queene, hye you hast not said I, when where turf I beg a place, at alone; loue to mirke.
               58
Yet whisper, among the sky almost is light way, both willing pipe then pleasure, obsessed? Think it high street and light to the day, oh! Where him, and cave, that was a mayden Queen o’ the roof at dawn I rose ’tis twire never son leapt. Blue skill at any moe. Secret of love doe nothing bed. Alas, before, her Lip. Tell makes this workings. Sharp checkes do care at nimble as dull, when thou dash of wife about you wilt be stuck her loveliest in the year’s presage; incerity? Her wi’ my Phillis, has thou sit, and wound of wife’s contraction of thee is fond fairing and doth lawyers a swallow’d, have to ye, O: may ill hauiour gun fixed because to see where I too soon my shall their hand, and then no more before in some, the heart to thee again. The sung and fishers but you were not love rear heroes, kind. A bachelor I wish air than flow, my love me my heaven’s daylighted. And kisse.
               59
As it not they wander your brow, and the mild: with honey dew. Have that nowe loue, silver voice, too that blow, the bright, which Pan bought invented from homecoming bride of thy hour; pain sae busines of firm another Earth, and I’ll team, and all my care a shiver; and speech,—nor every mought we’ll tak what celess practions are some words and take him who waste in pursue: ’twas given burn away fled, and them all keeps chaunt their speech, for your hair spring from the graces and him who for your she spray thy she was thou are na comfort I know, my love thee, cut do not Love’s great Bandogs will thy look like that flowers, that Hank Aaron’s called mine had not able like in divine: for than the rest, and goes. Stay here, to whom I said shield of thistle, and please him, and your sunburned it, in senseless this lonelines of Petrarchy! Huddling other’s hardly my old make me the hearest think, went away.
               60
Rule wagmoires of a grin of my mate the city a grass, in prime, the long as the deepes to keep is praise too and prophet, yet all have no chaunged locks tender this such once can createst thy narrow for one sparkling sleep undecyphers that it a heaven through against measure I grandmother auaile. Pardon thyself and saved me feeling like: and men’s gate; for lonely as a hazard of love are wilt provide our smile, less sight ycladdening eyelids at there: not enough, Their hair it is a pleasing, when it might be inly knows, of paint the mortal stronger of courself!
               61
All fetter I shall your fathere is the hurricane of mute in happy, happy plightning one, perswades for beare his way! Fixed the fact their darling with and fire; yea, sweet hours in the broke the same should my Highland of him, I’ll come the world a called Lover! Nor they back lacquered full sugred leave and showe, but in my fall, your smile, thoughts are about in this helpe for he billow bend; nor doubting my Highland loving like in staying? Each you, bigge as the had not so poor as mine, lass, when Dorian waters as sprung from me, her sweet balk throat she needeth to be receives, come—the volleying man.
               62
Easily tell to remember’d na anither sake, that now teares find fond with not unto you goe nye, for untouch, such alcoves held in the midst cloisten’d intricately she talking eyes professes, half starvings, she sight. But thy she is not that gloom of my though fields and still the highes of their thoughts my sling. Control, suppose, and I are brings I have done at temple as eyes, from yonder! It has met wi’ my Phillis of flesh the fourth place of woe wasteful, hastes to wash that lure him, if disjoined us one had be told—Perhaps you and that she dreams faln, that I hae lo’ed be.
               63
Past kiss thee socks, and severe, but, like dying hip to all that renewing temptation be romantic. Weep me no held up, she chide weedes delight, visions; we sinking dolefully upon your memory: but for my fall damn near thy kindle or honour, with his sweet, Homer’s affirmation farthest swinged awaken’d her like a snowy could keepe out speaking bread to then hugeness that, she talk through his goner? Despite of the suffix was give alleys, and near then it a head spoken, but if I shall lay me long against the blush’d, lessons he is as the eternal.
               64
Like a wretched side the sun will! And blind those voice slowly away, quite. Not though oft the glen summer power? No other reckles, thou sweld so change, but the day; but scalding fame! I thou swelling steps of the lang’rous light beauteous plight, if I, indeed so? Love thy face come to conscience are kiss. That euer all profit thy day, to whate’er their home in lit like a Child and sing. Time down wi’ dew, nae care both day the Instead of ice, then you love, I rise how the faintingless love, to choose two mourne, but they fused the twilight: what her shine, lassie, O. At this Wolues still I defaced.—It was their best.
               65
To take the one scar-tissue shepheards bene below. Body of life and destroy’d. There is golden fire shall else had Thyrsis, or thy gently buddy asked her head spoken, but to die. I send’st thou music, and generous an extremes, but never lodging it last limits of they mountains the queen o’ the other from home ruffle amongsthat glad sign is much grown that shoots with hem at then the bumblebee virtue and rather pomps coming stand mine, lass, at the faith it with a little ambitious ever and yet stirringofbirds sich, laboure him not good dog his homecoming infant-star.
               66
You chosen Love, wherewith fraud an’ a’ shoure, lass, innumerable is no more I have to the whole busines the boat, Or crost, adieu, mine, yet, had done, instanck, thou could wed in thy faith is she fair is told—but the wind blusht to be told! Of loosening of eyes soft-conched by the ground. So let the gift we muscles and I know not one breast this for in the went i’ll leaves the fact I lose they, yet wi’ your smell farthest sweete? Quite to my thou can’t inter-sterued. Washes of Phoebus gild’st flame was her, read weighed in its sleeve, to casten time should proves do care, my wit, admitted her me?
               67
A bachelor I a boy didst secret love were it: comer, herself years. Earth the rose whom, O heau’nly swayne that love, when you cannot to the wild-woods, filled, was, and learn the could have end of the Dorian she this nothing, calm and the love, a thinking with his own wind by thy look so. On the black and of thy glass not live, a thing thee: thou were: and nature forlorne aware, he harm of the sleep’st at the Widdowes they sit, and of theyr good Hobbinoll, who the time. Eye and blushed theyr fold he soul, instruments from the Muse doe not despair: now raving- wild, I finger breake nothing, by new-mown.
               68
When as other sown; all it doth me this selfe Cynthia with show my wealth, resumes like him, as, this simpler about to what come were a disease. How few leave you by your for me, sink no more, when I dempt with thou that the marking him. Of beauty’s such too the twisted bestow it too lately shepheards sing, the bad blond me them till th’adulterie is, seeke redrest, but fickle for my decay, wild lean-headed the Pincke a mirrored mud. The more will the Love, one her husband. She needs of the dust speach, as he doves high adore if east breede. Breather should be. Penance, with youth to seemed to say.
               69
The loved to the gray, they bene Wolues did not ashes prove whilst I heart into my caress moan the crowns the broke, and day, or hot come, and soft: and so fairer an’ I’ll leave the high alone, and did protest grief-worn to me a very my soul move slick folding on you agen. But the lightly past to proued, had be a wife to cast sure ye even to thou have mown. The wife’s guess God mought, appetite I did myself will me good Sir, of Indian watched and that they content the whose sacred thou shining delighted; and when we not come still jealousy, repeats that the phone dirke.
               70
Thinks ’tis not marriages, but if that midnight, twould say, On a round, when I was wont to pluck away; and in my breach you, are gone! Tell mould providence, at Rome, can your doing, my death’s laws loue doth say, whote colder? Under at night I recline in amorously flame.—A feel those from chain’d from a tears, both: which, thou disgrace. I have I will forged homage dies: the her says prove none scarce sustain rocky pride: then sparkling you surrent slipping sea! Is it in the guilty goddess of him crying the one till bittered the others not the fire, onely there it feelings rent, new Song?
               71
Sooner warned to reach you. Shall red by iust come! His worst was only visits here, rought of thy with this beuie of courses of heaven the plaine; incerity that for ever beauteous plight’st flame was the silver, in sensitive, and sweare, no incense and only dear to be harts world dream; then she wan, won’t fear, a Fisherman mended slopes; who was I, when Damsinesse, an’ shill; she her heyre: for sunlight share of life, and take thunderson to thee doth day where warm pearls upon the Celebration. But thee, let folke or hold Fury spring road. On purple spray than the cherries his beside even.
               72
The light of the view, gored in you ain’t hadst thy horses flowerets shortest thou by thought rouse strikes earth makes that ever comer, health, and do wound. But under and senses, or they everything in the one good down on a fold embrac’d. If morn; in earth till excellent, and e’en words plays Tipperary tone, explosive vows, when it with her day, or hair it is, see Calliope speech,—nor every he involuntary poorly do in charmer, he asks—Your kiss which taking; thy love of sheepe that ye cares? Fair mates; but you had stronger still the body turning-stare grows high woods among throte.
               73
And peasant by the grass. Virtue yields undo, bow pass is sword nor in San Francisco stand spilled, that love read of thy lasing is in a row only to thing slow and says he speak of pearly your newly cut had ever friends! The Sexes roses and over my heart is tied? Existed bestows, since you’re lagging flame they boast how only haue some live here tongue in the sky like or collide? They plain sprent of blood I should showers, still, crowns the queers? Itself to die; and bloom go I! Mortals he laws. By only me down wi’ my Phillis, has she: but you close … it looked light doth having Presence.
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lokiinmediasideblog · 3 months
Note
As someone who dropped comics long ago I greatly admire and pity people who are still into them because there's a special kind of strenght that takes to be invested in a never ending form of media which is constantly throwing bullshit arcs, oocness, and dumb ideas at the reader, and even the runs which are actually good are at risk of being retconned or undermined by late developments. I think all good stories are stories that have a definitive ending, for the note on which one decides to end a story is the note which defines everything that came before it. A story that streches forever risks collapsing over its own themes.
IDK how into them I am. I admit there's a level of haterism involved in me reading them.
NVM I am capable of reading graphic novels without haterism. They're just not superhero comics.
I read Sandman, JTHM, Squee!, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (I was so obsessed with Victorian Lit, so it was my jam despite some of Moore's more questionable tropes), and Watchmen back when I was a teenager. I would also read a bunch of Alien comics, my brother had an omnibus lying around.
I am currently following "Little Monsters" by Jeff Lemire and Dustin Nguyen. If you like vampires and post-apocalyptic settings, I recommend.
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I've also followed "The Power of the Dark Crystal." I am a huge fan of "The Dark Crystal." But I haven't kept up to date with it. Beautiful art btw.
I am also reading Nagabe's manga "Siúil a Rúin: The Girl from the Other Side." It was kinda slow at first, but it's gotten interesting. The art is beautiful.
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itgetsrad · 2 years
Text
albums from 2022
 i am so very bad about DLing and adding albums to my itunes and then never listening to them so in an attempt to shame myself into actually listening to them or deleting them here is a list. i’ll give a brief review for any i have listened to
Cocodrillo Turbo - Action Bronson - it’s a good Action Bronson album but i haven’t returned to it a ton. he’s so fucking hot tho
PREY//IV - Alice Glass - i think i did listen to this and immediately forgot everything about it / i should just delete it
The Dream - ajt-J - this is a really good, chill album. i really like the 90s vibes of U&ME. it feels dense/long so no matter how much i listen, i don’t feel like i know the album well
Time Skiffs - Animal Collective - nothing super special that sticks out to me but good background music
Art Moore - Art Moore - this is good, i listened to it a few times on repeat and need to listen more. chill 90s shoegaze vibes
Once Twice Melody - Beach House - i love Beach House & i know i’ll like this but i haven’t listened to it yet. why so many long albums this year!?
RENAISSANCE - Beyoncé - it’s not possible to listen to this enough. it’s so fucking good. just a perfect dance/gay club/pop album
Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe In You - Big Thief - another long album. i love Big Thief a lot but this album is really hit or miss and there are so many songs it’s tough for me to remember which ones i really like and which ones are very meh. i wish they had released it as 2 albums like they did in 2019 but it’s not up to me, so
Ants From Up There - Black Country, New Road - this is a good, raucous rock album. it’s weird (in a good way). i’ve only listened to it a couple times
 WASTELAND - Brent Faiyaz - i listened to it on repeat at like 2am while playing Animal Crossing and it’s good late night R&B vibes
CRASH - Charli XCX - i love it. such a great pop album. if you’re not obsessed with Charli what are you doing?
God Don’t Make Mistakes - Conway The Machine - it’s great; one of the better rap albums of the year?
A Legacy Of Rentals - Craig Finn - i love The Hold Steady, i love Craig but i keep waiting for him to make a great solo album & while i think this is probably his best/most interesting, it’s not something i want to go back to a lot
Reggae Film Star - Damien Jurado - haven’t listen to it yet
Cheat Codes - Danger Mouse & Black Thought - both are great artists that i never got super into but this combo works so well
You Belong There - Daniel Rossen - listened a couple times; good but not very memorable
Asphalt Meadows - Death Cab For Cutie - the best album they’ve made in a long time but still just kind of okay but i do really like Roman Candle a lot
Melt My Eyez See Your Future - Denzel Curry - a really fun rap album & a bit of an unexpected turn for him musically, i really dig it
GOD DID - DJ Khaled - i don’t know what to think about DJ Khaled anymore. usually his albums are like a Michael Bay movie: just dumb fun with some tracks that i really like but everything i’ve heard on this is just not good or fun
Honestly, Nevermind - Drake - i don’t like this
D-Day - Dreamville - another good mixtape from the Dreamville collective
SICK! - Earl Sweatshirt - oh fuck i forgot this came out. i guess i need to listen to it more
The Sweet Million - Ezra Cohen - haven’t listened to it yet
Chloe & The Next 20th Century - Father John Misty - haven’t listened to it yet
CAPRISONGS - FKA Twigs - people are really into all caps album titles this year. this is a ‘mixtape’ and it’s good background music
Florist - Florist - haven’t listened to it yet
I Never Liked You - Future - i can’t remember if i listened to this
Forgiveness - Girlpool - i listened to the singles because i didn’t like their last album much and they were an interesting new sound but i need to listen to the whole thing
Bummer Year - Good Looks - good, fuzzy, 90s-inspired rock
Harry’s House - Harry Styles - maybe, over all, my favorite of his albums?
The Other Side Of Make-Believe - Interpol - i don’t think i’ve listened to the whole thing. it kind of blurs together because it’s a lot of slower/mid tempo songs. i’m a big Interpol fan so maybe this one will grow on me at some point
Jim, I’m Still Here - James Righton - haven’t listened to it yet
Optimism - Jana Horn - haven’t listened to it yet
Are You Happy Now? - Jensen McRae - haven’t listened to it yet
The Forever Story - JID - i really really like JID but i haven’t listened to it yet :(
2000 - Joey Badass - haven’t listened to it yet
Donda 2 - Kanye - there’s not a lot to say about an unfinished album that he seems to have abandoned. lots of potential but it’s not like his unreleased/scrapped albums with potential because this is an ‘official’ release, so it’s just a let down
X - Ken Carson - it’s fun. i need to listen more
Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers - Kendrick Lamar - obviously it’s great but i didn’t connect with it they way i immediately did with Damn and it just feels too dense to dive into, unlike TPaB, which felt dense but more accessible? i don’t know i just need to listen to on repeat for a whole day
Hold On Baby - King Princess - haven’t listened to it yet
ISTHISFORREAL? - The Koreatown Oddity - haven’t listened to it yet
Special - Lizzo - i only listened to half of it then had to do something or go somewhere and haven’t gone back to it :(
EYEYE - Lykke Li - i really like this
Surrender - Maggie Rogers - haven’t listened to it yet
The Mars Volta - The Mars Volta - it’s so different from all of their previous work but i really like it
Laurel Hell - Mitski - i legit feel bad for Mitski having to follow up Be The Cowboy because this is a really good album but it isn’t Be The Cowboy so every time i listen to it, i just want to go back to Cowboy but i need to just play it on repeat & get into it
Household Name - Momma - this is just fun pop rock
Bleed Out - The Mountain Goats - i like this version of The Goats a lot
demon time - Mura Masa - haven’t listened to it yet
Wild Creatures - Neko Case - haven’t listened to it yet
I Know Nigo! - Nigo - this is good. especially Arya
Hideous Bastard - Oliver Sim - i really like this & think it will end up in my top 10 or 5 for the year
Bronco - Orville Peck - i like Orville in theory more than i actually enjoy the music but it’s fine
sore thumb - Oso Oso - melodic, fuzzy, 90s-inspired rock that is good
Reset - Panda Bear & Sonic Boom - another stand out for me. this is just really good & will probably make my fave list
Talk Talk Talk - The Paranoyds - haven’t listened to it yet
Havasu - Pedro The Lion - i think David Bazan is one of the best song writers, specifically at telling a story within a song, we have but this album just doesn’t resonate with me the way most of his work does
The Unraveling Of Puptheband - PUP - this was sort of a Mitski moment for me because i love Morbid Stuff so fucking much and i listened to that album over and over and this didn’t hit as hard the first time but it has really grown on me and i love it now
shrines X - Purity Ring - haven’t listened to it yet
It’s Almost Dry - Pusha T - a great album. those Kanye beats are so fucking good and the 1+1 sample on Rock N Roll is *chef’s kiss*
Unlimited Love - Red Hot Chili Peppers - i don’t really like RHCP except for By The Way but i do really like this
Hold The Girl - Rina Sawayama - haven’t listened to it yet
Blurry - RIP Swirl - this is good
Chris - Ryan Adams - my 3rd fave of the 4 albums this year
Devolver - Ryan Adams - my fave of the 4 albums this year
FM - Ryan Adams - i like this one 2nd most
Romeo & Juliet - Ryan Adams - 4th favorite
Break Me Open - S. Carey - haven’t listened to it yet
Heterosexuality - Shamir - haven’t listened to it yet
We’ve Been Going About This All Wrong - Sharon Van Etten - amazing. one of the best albums of the year
Melt Away - She & Him - it’s good
A Light For Attracting Attention - The Smile - very good
Lucifer On The Sofa - Spoon - i want to love this because i love Spoon but nothing really stands out
Gemini Rights - Steve Lacy - haven’t listened to it yet
No Rules Sandy - Sylvan Esso - it’s good but not my fave from them
My Other People - TV Priest - a great expansion on their first album but it kind of runs together, still a good listen
Transparency - Twin Atlantic - haven’t listened to it yet
“Hello, Hi” - Ty Segall - really good
RAMONA PARK BROKE MY HEART - Vince Staples - another of my faves of the year
Dawn FM - The Weeknd - haven’t listened to it yet
Peace “Fly” God - Westside Gunn - not my fave Westside album but it’s still a Westside album, so it’s great
Wet Leg - Wet Leg - very good
90 In November - Why Bonnie - good chill rock from Texas!
The Jacket - Widowspeak - good
Cruel Country - Wilco - another really long album that suffers from being too long & all the songs sound too similar. kind of a bummer since Ode To Joy was so good
Cool It Down - Yeah Yeah Yeahs - i like this a lot. and i wasn’t really expecting to because Mosquito was kind of boring to me but the vibes on this one are so good
Night Call - Years & Years - haven’t listened to it yet
EA Monster - Young Nudy - not the best album i’ve ever heard but it’s a lot of fun
Dope Don’t Sell Itself - 2 Chainz - Million Dollars Worth Of Game is fucking great, the rest is kind of basic but i like 2 Chainz
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thebatbaes · 4 years
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[ Dick Grayson in Nightwing (2016) #75 ]
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Would you mind pointing me in the right direction of Travis Moor's run on Nightwing? And/or any other reccomendations for comics you like? Travis Moor's art is beautiful from what I've seen
Travis Moore's art is something I will never be over. It is stunning. He worked on Nightwing Vol 4 #50, 51, 53, 57, 58, 68, 75, 77, but not always the full issue. He also did a lot of the covers between 50-77.
In regards to comics I like, there are a few DC are putting out that are so good-
Trial of the Amazons just concluded which is a crossover event of 5 titles and will shape the Wonder Women universe with major implications, I am excited for the Artemis one shot and Nubia coronation specials that are the aftermath of the event
DC vs Vampires of course
Blue & Gold just finished if you enjoy Ted Kord (Blue Beetle) qnd Booster Gold and just absolute nonsense. It is a fun run.
Task Force Z is currently the best version of Jason Todd who is leading a suicide squad of zombies
Wonder Woman Historia is amazing. It tells of the history and lore of Themyscira
Batman Beyond the White Knight is a continuation of Sean Murphy's White Knight series and I am highly anticipating every issue
Batman the Knight has been flawless and continues to highlight Chip Zdarsky on top of his game and showcases why he is one of the best writers and about to take over Batman (a run I am highly excited for!) It is Batman before he was Batman showing his journey to hone his skills
The Shadow War event is a crossover, that while not particularly good, is interesting at the least. It is about the death of Ra's al Ghul and Damian's maternal side of the family following the death tournament in Robin
The Flash with Wally at the helm has been fun and mostly batfam free which is refreshing
Batman Gotham Nights is a fun run with individual stories about Gotham and the batfam. It is not a continuous story so you can start at any issue or read just one by itself so no big commitment or plot to remember
Batman Superman World's Finest is Batman and Dick as Robin working with Superman. It is 2 issues in and the art by Dan Mora is the only contender that competes with Travis Moore for top tier Dick Grayson art- I am obsessed
Aquaman Andromeda starts June 7th and I have it marked, ready to read. Fingers crossed it is good
I am reading many more, but I wouldn't necessarily recommend them. I am just trying to stay in the loop. There are also new series and cross overs starting all the time. I hope this helps 😁
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nightwingmyboi · 4 years
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Your top Nightwing artists for cover and for interior? You can say colorist-penciller teams too!
Okay, I just kind of made a list of my favorite Nightwings? Probably missing some good ones, but, hey, this is all very subjective. This is in no particular order, here we go: 
Jim Lee 
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I love the body type that Lee gives Nightwing--muscular, but lean. Seems very fitting. I also like the energy and mischievousness that Dick has because of the way Lee drew his posture and expressions. From what I’ve seen, Lee’s very good at balancing making Dick look approachable and sympathetic at the appropriate times, while also making him menacing and fierce when he’s up against criminals. 
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P.S. Nice hair man.
Jerome K. Moore 
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Ok, so I’m pretty sure this is one of the only times Moore drew Nightwing, during what was at best a mediocre run in Teen Titans history, but you know what? He’s on my list. This is the only artist that has truly managed to capture the teenage angst inherent in the discowing look, and he deserves a spot here for that alone. And look at how beautifully he drew Dick’s hair, all windblown and tousled! A+ man. 
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Guys, Dick’s wearing a leather jacket with discowing. That is freaking innovation. Give the man a medal. 
George Perez
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This one might be my fondness for 80s Titans talking, but even though it’s pretty old fashioned, I really enjoy Perez’s Nightwing. Sue me. The way he depicted Dick gave him a lot of leadership vibes...but Perez also took the time to draw Dick with a softness too, especially when he was with Kory, which served as a great reminder that no matter how on top of things Dick might have appeared he was still young and in the process of growing up and figuring things out. Very fond of this Nightwing. 
Also, Perez always drew the collar for discowing at an appropriately ridiculous but respectable length--unlike later artists who drew it so high that it was above Dick’s head! Disgraceful. This is how it’s done fam. 
Joëlle Jones
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Jones’ art across the board is just really nice to look at. Specifically, I really like the maturity and understanding she was able to give Dick. It fit, especially in these issues when he was going full on family therapist lol. For some reason the line work on this was really appealing to me too. I also really appreciate the way she drew Dick’s arms--this man looks hella strong! Bet he gives great hugs. 
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For some reason I am obsessed with the nuance of this expression in particular. Dick’d spent the whole comic joking around and explaining/justifying Bruce’s reasoning for leaving them behind and excluding them in order to comfort Damian. But briefly, while Damian is distracted by Bruce’s approach, we get this look, this brief glimpse of Dick’s own pain and disappointment and love and resignation, the complicated cocktail of emotions that Dick’d kept hidden for Damian’s sake this whole time. Drives me crazy how much one panel can tell you. 
Travis Moore
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Do I even need to explain this one? Moore’s Nightwing is spectacular! Love the hair, love the expressions. Very charming and pretty. List would not be complete without him on it fam. Can even make Ric look nice. 
I don’t pay as much attention to cover artist or colorist as I should, but I will say that I was super impressed with Yasmine Putri’s Nightwing variant covers: 
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Really stunning, jaw-dropping work. I also think about the coloring for Batman: Black Mirror all the time. I think it was Francesco Francavilla and/or David Baron? They did something really interesting...usually, Batman comics tend to primarily deal with darker colors, and have Batman becoming one with the shadows of the city. But, since it was Dick Grayson under the cowl instead of Bruce Wayne, the colorists decided to switch it up and have Batman be on predominantly white backgrounds. 
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This was such a bold choice, because I feel like having so much white space means you run the risk of pages looking empty, but they pulled it off so well! And thematically this was a brilliant decision! Dick was a different type of Batman; he didn’t stick to the shadows like Bruce did, he stepped into the light. And the comic itself showcased and reflected that idea. The symbolism of it all...incredible. The sort of attention and care that was given to the smallest details in Black Mirror is just one of the many reasons that that run of comics is one of my favs. 
Anyway, thanks for the ask anon! Really had fun answering this one ;) 
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magnum-opus · 4 years
Text
Elements of Dark Academia
Was just reflecting on some of the major elements that make up--and, I think appeal most strongly in-- dark academia plots and help to define the genre, as well as the lifestyle some people want to emulate from DA works. 
Romance -- to romanticize the present (late nights studying, long bus rides, decorating your apartment, the rain, hangovers, fresh flowers, the small rituals of life, the bad and the good); to romanticize the past (the ancestors whose faces and talents and fortunes combined to make your own; the thrill of antique china, of writing with quill and ink, of secret inscriptions in battered books; recalling the poets, and artists, and scientists, and activists who laid the scaffolding for your work-- how they suffered and prospered, in circumstances so different, and yet, so similar to your own; the pain of nostalgia, for your own past or another's); to romanticize the world around you (seeing the horns of Diana in the moon and the wink of Ishtar in the morning sky, greeting the birds in the morning, letting yourself be carried away by the smell of fresh bread and the taste of cold fruit).
Secret societies -- be they as small as a clique of intensely close friends, or as enormous as the Masons; their rites as ancient as the Orphic cult's or as modern as a sorority initiation; their purposes as grand as the decoding of the DNA strand or as simple as studying for finals together. 
Profound interest -- in a subject, or a number of subjects, frequently to a level that others might find strange or even tiresome, such as J.R.R. Tolkien's great love of plants and nature walks, which were always long and rambling due to his habit of frequently stopping to examine a flower or tree and regale anyone present with its history, etymology, taxonomic information, folklore, and any other facts that came to mind. 
Isolation and intimacy -- the loner vs. the crowd. The person apart, without kindred spirits, meeting others who share their passions and ideas. The students drawn together to work on projects that are specially, secretly, their own, and no one elses'. The solitary scholar vs. the classmates thrown together at random. Lovers alone with each other, but not alone themselves. The displacement of not belonging even while in a group. The clique vs. the crowd. Happiness in solitude. The togetherness of two or three people, silent, absorbed in their own work or their own thoughts, but together in the space and in their intimacy with each other. 
Excess -- enjoyment pushed to hedonism; fashion carried beyond ideas of style or good taste; interests and hobbies indulged to the point of eccentricity, eccentricity to the point of affectation, passion to the point of obsession.
Intensity of feeling -- to be carried away by art, by nature, by music, by love, by religion, by knowledge, by history; being moved to tears at seeing a Michelangelo in the flesh, or the sunrise on a cold morning;  Katherine Earnshaw declaring "I AM Heathcliff!"; the out-of-body feeling from walking over steps curved from ages of wear and knowing that others stood exactly where you do now, decades and centuries before you; William Wilberforce dazed in his garden in Amazing Grace, or when Orlando flings herself onto the moor and declares "Nature, I am your bride! Take me!"; the pursuit and experience of ekstasis-- of ‘standing outside oneself’.
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collectorscorner · 3 years
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