#adrienne i hope you find this even the least bit funny | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

juniper-and-lamplight · 5 years

Text

2019 Femslash February Recs

It’s Femslash February! Which means it’s time for some RECS. Here you’ll find multifandom femslash fics, as well as a few not-quite-femslash fics that focus on female characters. My femslash reading is all over the place, and this list follows suit: some recs are new, some are collected from earlier rec posts; all are in alphabetical order by fandom, at least. Recs below the cut, and please remember to show your love with kudos and comments!

Code Name Verity Wind, Sand, Devotion - montparnasse, read by fire_juggler - 6k, 53min, T, Maddie/Julie "Empty spaces want for filling, and Maddie Brodatt is overflowing." A gorgeous, sensitive pod of a hauntingly lovely fic.

Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency A Moment of Clarity - electricteatime | @kieren-fucking-walker - 7k, G, Farah/Tina “Farah is saved from answering when Tricia promptly throws up on her own shoes. She would be more annoyed, but in the moment she finds herself too preoccupied to care. Girls with girls. There’s a thought." If you believe that Farah Adrienne Black deserves ALL the love and acceptance, from herself and from others, then you absolutely must read this fic.

real and okay and beautiful - embraidery | @blueandnoah - 2.8k, G, Farah/Tina/Amanda (but mostly just friendship) "Mona's feeling down in the dumps (body insecurities) and her friends try to help her feel better about it all!" Do you love awesome women supporting each other and feeling free? If so, read this!

Keep the Home Fires Burning - @flightinflame - 16k, M, Farah/Tina, AU "Bergsberg is a small town off the beaten track. For Project Vesta, a Blackwing runaway, it offers a fresh start and the chance of a friend in the town's sheriff." A painful, cathartic fic that gives Tina’s character some real attention, and gives Farah and Tina the happiness they deserve.

pray for the thunder and the rain - inkyfishes - 7k, T, Farah/Amanda "A Farah-centric slice of a possible future. Everything has gone wrong. Everything is broken. Farah works through her anxiety whilst beginning their lives on the run. Her place in the universe is, as yet, undecided." An excellent and all-too-brief glimpse into Farah’s psyche, with a steady undercurrent of Faranda.

i was born in a summer storm (i live there still) - janeseyre - 10k, G, Farah & Todd & Dirk "Farah confronts the vestiges of her past as she, Dirk, and Todd travel east to visit her mother. It turns out Farah isn’t as over her father’s death as she thought she was." A deeper look into Farah’s families, both biological and chosen; full of lovely little smile moments and Farah getting the closure she deserves.

Never Played It Cool - @lavellington - 1.8k, T, Farah/Amanda "Dude," Amanda says, squeezing her tight while her hair tickles Farah's face. "It's so good to see you." "You too," Farah says, meaning it, and when they break apart Amanda's hands linger on her shoulders for a second longer than they have to, and that's nice. That's enough to feed her borderline pathetic crush for a week, at least.” Short, sweet, a tiny bit steamy, and beautifully in-character.

Hold Her Fast - Lynds | @gold-from-straw - 11.9k, T, Farah/Amanda, AU "Farah Black is the new girl in Amanda's school, and she's captivating. Everyone has a story about her. Amanda just can't quite figure out why her entire being is so totally aware of her, why her skin prickles when she's around, why Farah looks more real than anyone else she's ever known." I’m not typically into high school AUs, but this one is funny, moving, angsty, and gloriously DEFIANT.

Firearms Proficiency 101 - @nekosmuse - 3k, T, Farah/Amanda "I can't believe you took me to your private shooting range on our first date. That is so punk." Do you enjoy awkward Faranda? ME TOO. Especially stuff like Farah saying: "I... I am... into you as well." These nerds <3

you will soothe my worried looks - orphan_account - 2k, T, Farah/Amanda “Farah sees a therapist. It's a strange journey, but not one she needs to take alone." I would read many thousands more words of Farah in therapy, honestly.

there's cell reception on this widow's walk - strix_alba - 2k, T, Farah/Tina "In which Tina sort-of-kind-of asks Farah to stay with her in Bergsberg, and Farah kind-of-sort-of wants to say yes." Clumsy flirting, Farina styles! Tina mentally describes the Jacket Team as a “bunch of hot, uptight weirdos,” which is p e r f e c t.

Coincidental - tastewithouttalent - 3.7k, M, Farah/Tina "It turns out that blue is a ridiculously good color against the dark of Farah’s skin, and also that that shirt fits her better than any shirt has any right to fit anyone, and also apparently Tina has more of a uniform kink than she realized she did." You just have to love a babbling, awkwardly-crushing Tina.

(Note: this rec list isn't meant to be About Me, buuuuut if you’re into DGHDA femslash, I’ve written a few Farina fics you might enjoy.)

Ghostbusters (2016) Celebrate the Me Yet To Come - Vera (Vera_DragonMuse), read by @revolutionaryjo - 6k, 37min, M, Jillian/Erin "She is deeply strange and strangely deep. She looks in the void and the void blinks first. This is how Jillian Holtzman makes herself." Holtzmann is such a fantastically odd character, it's so enjoyable to dig into her past and her passions.

i don't wanna give you up (i don't wanna let you love somebody else but me) - @notcaycepollard, read by RevolutionaryJo - 3k, 20min, E, Jillian/Erin "Erin Gilbert is not the second or even the fifth straight girl Jillian’s ever fallen for, and it’s kind of getting to be a problem, except when she sees Dr Erin Gilbert, she thinks, maybe, this woman might be a statistical outlier." Closely observed, funny, hot, and the narrative voice is perfect.

Gilmore Girls Suggestions (And Mallomars) - Mosca | @moscarific, 3.3k, T, Rory/Paris "Identity, chocolate, mother-daughter relations, and the importance of voting: scenes from the first 90 days." Hands down, this is a more plausible (and enjoyable) romance than any of the ones that actually occurred in canon.

Harry Potter Library Solicitation - @gracerene09 - 1k, G, Cho/Hermione "It's not as if it's unusual for a solicitor to spend so much time in the Law Library of the Ministry of Magic. Hermione has a lot of cases to prepare for, after all. It certainly has nothing to do with how helpful and interesting and surprisingly funny their newest librarian is." As a librarian, I'm verrrry picky about librarian fics, but this was adorable.

The violets and the bloodroot - @lbmisscharlie - 908 words, G, Hermione/Luna "Luna strokes the underside of one tentacle; the plant hums. Hermione’s skin feels warm, her breath humid. The Room of Requirement offers up many things." Short, but vivid and memorable.

Winter Like a Balm - Lomonaaeren - 2k, T, Ginny/Luna "The first winter after Fred's death, Ginny escapes into the Forbidden Forest with Luna and her unicorns." A gentle but deeply felt story about grief and loss that brings Ginny through to the other side, to the terror/joy of allowing herself to feel hopeful again.

Grazed Knees - montparnasse - 5k, T, Luna/Ginny "The war is over, except that it isn't, and Ginny is done fighting, except that she's not." The mood in this one is so evocative, and I love it so much.

Blood Magic and Rebirth (or, The One Where They Are All Feminist Academics) - notcaycepollard - 1k, G "Moon cups, Luna thinks. Moon cups and blood magic. And she remembers the old itch under her skin, and a music box fluttering into a flock of birds, and wonders just how powerful it could be." Not femslash, but this fic is 1000% headcanon for me now.

Trust A Few - @violetclarity - 13.2k, T, Hermione/Pansy "Hermione has a pregnant adopted sister, parents who don’t believe she’s bisexual, and a crush the size of the Great Lake on Pansy Parkinson. Taking Pansy up on her offer to be Hermione’s fake date to her parents’ Christmas dinner could solve at least one of those problems...but it could also make everything worse." Half holiday romcom, half character study of adult Hermione her relationships (both romantic and familial).

Independent Love Song - @writcraft - 6.2k, E, Ginny/Millie "Millicent Bulstrode is a tailor and Ginny is losing her mind over a woman in a tweed blazer and burgundy brogues." I saw the summary and thought “hell yes,” and then I read the fic and upgraded that to a “FUCK YES PLEASE.” I love dapper butch Millie, and just-out but all-in Ginny, and also I would like to own ALL of Millie’s clothes.

His Dark Materials Selected Moments in Introductory Symbology - @kaydeefalls - 5.6k, G, Lyra/OFC "Lyra in Oxford after the Fall, relearning the alethiometer and discovering a life of her own." A poignant yet hopeful follow-up to the original trilogy, with characterization that feels very authentic while still allowing for growth.

Merlin A Statue Strong Enough for Two - @theladyragnell, read by exmanhater - 39k, 3hrs 30min, E, Elena/Mithian "Elena is a street-level superhero. A visit from an old enemy forces her to step up and see what she might have to do with the Sidhe who invaded and were sent away twenty years ago. Luckily, she has fellow superheroes to back her up, and a new girlfriend in her regular life to make things feel more normal." I admit that I was skeptical going in, but the characterization and world-building in this AU is strong and absorbing.

Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries Rise and reprove the insolent daylight - lbmisscharlie - 3k, E, Phryne/Mac "Mac takes a breath; Phryne exhales. The trailing skirt of Phryne’s shining dress – starlight and sparkle – brushes the backs of Mac’s hands as she slides them up to Phryne’s knees. Her stockings are soft; her thighs fall open, softly, under Mac’s hands, which clench, just slightly, with the heat that sends to her gut." Lush and laden with sensory details and weighty emotion

Every Day's Most Quiet Need - @tiltedsyllogism - 22k, unrated, Phryne/Mac, Phryne/Jack "Doctor Elizabeth Macmillan does not traffick in regrets...if Mac occasionally longs for a time before her friend became somehow distracted by the stiff shoe that is Inspector Jack Robinson— well, one must always endure some bad with the good." I love everything about this fic, but especially the closely observed characterization, of both individuals and relationships. There's a moment where Mac recognizes that she and Jack share a certain kind of "well-tailored" intensity...I almost shouted "YES THIS" when I read it.

et faisons la grasse matinée - mazily | @ylizam - 1k, M, Phryne/Mac, Phryne/Jack "'I do love you,' Mac says. She's not fond of saying it." Quiet, atmospheric, and sensual.

Sherlock How the mouth changes its shape - breathedout | @havingbeenbreathedout - 132k, E, Sherlock/Johnnie, AU “1955. A hidden London; the clandestine love between women. To Sherlock Holmes, struggling private detective and mistress of disguise, it’s a realm she renounced. To Johnnie Watson, daredevil ambulance driver turned auto mechanic, it’s too familiar.” Not only is this a deliciously plotty mystery with complex characterization, it’s also well-researched historical fiction. (Also recommended: HBBO’s Femslash and sex-writing essays.)

In the palms of the hands, invisible - lbmisscharlie - 3k, E, Sherlock/Jo "'I touch myself here, in this room, stretched out on the sofa, when you’re asleep, or showering, or – or in the kitchen –' Sherlock's breath hitches, almost imperceptibly, when Jo’s hand skitters, startled by the deep, rumbling rush of lust that pools low in her cunt at Sherlock’s words." The voice and characterization in this fic absolutely destroys me. It’s so uncomfortable and fascinating and real.

Diversionary Tactics - ShinySherlock, read by @fffinnagain- 2k, 16min, E, Molly/Irene, AU "Oh. This could be interesting. Irene’s fingers moved to the third button of the dress and paused. 'Shall I just . . . check the rest of you, then? Make sure you’re quite all right?'" A brief, hot, historical PWP, Mollrene style. UNF. Finnagain's performance is very...impassioned--maybe don't listen in public ;)

Supernatural To know what's under the floor - beckaandzac, read by exmanhater - 4k, 21min, G, Charlie/Jo, AU "No one here is like me, Jo thinks, and she knows it’s what every eighteen year old on the planet thinks. And she also knows in her case it’s completely justified. But then she meets Charlie." A college sorta-AU in which Charlie and Jo get something a lot closer to the lives they deserved.

Wonder Woman (2017) be yourself my ally - imperfectcircle - 15k, G, Diana/Etta 'That’s all very flattering,' Etta says when Diana has finally run out of steam, 'but surely you have more qualified candidates than me?' 'You are of the world of men.' Diana looks a little embarrassed. 'But not a man.' Diana and Etta go back to Themyscira." Did you wish for more Themyscira in the Wonder Woman movie? Did you think that Etta Candy was delightful and underutilized? ME TOO! Hence, my love for this fic.

Etta Candy's Last Stand - sanguinity - 2k, T, Diana/Etta "This is the way Etta is going to die: trapped between a bed and Diana Prince’s breasts." Bless Etta Candy and her dorky, romantic heart.

Beyond Belief - thingswithwings - 14k, E, Diana/Peggy, crossover "Diana finds her for the first time in 1947, underneath a rather heavy pile of fallen masonry." An unapologetically sexy crossover fic about camaraderie (and attraction) between two badass women.

Further fic recs | Fic bookmarks

12 notes · View notes

robertisbisexual · 6 years

Note

horita prompt: will gets his memory, paul gets scared, will chooses him anyway

It’s on a otherwise boring Tuesday that Paul’s world falls apart. He probably should have known better than to be hopeful - even if the last couple months had been some of the best of his life - and he certainly knows he shouldn’t have let himself go and fall in love again. He most definitely knew he shouldn’t have fallen in love with Will Horton but Paul tended to lead with his heart and not his head and so it happened anyways.

But even knowing all of that none of it makes hearing Adrienne excitedly telling Justin how wonderful it is that Will’s got his memory back any easier and it certainly doesn’t make the view through the window of Sonny and Will kissing hurt less. But Paul’s already begged someone to love him once and he doesn’t think he can do it a second time. So he leaves the roses, gas station bought and a running joke between them, on a table in the square. Maybe someone else will find a use for them, he doesn’t seem to need them anymore.

It’s an pretty uneventful walk back to their - well his apartment. They’d unofficially officially moved into Paul’s room a month or so back but he didn’t imagine that would be a thing anymore. He’s grateful he doesn’t run into anyone though, he’s not really sure he could have handle the conversation this soon.

Stepping into the room though he’s knocked off balance at just how much it actually hurts to see the vivid reminders that he’s lost everything again, that Salem has taken another thing from him.

He thinks maybe he should leave it.

He packs together a quick overnight bag, figures he’ll stay in his car. Maybe rummage through the case files back at work see if he can find something or someone to stakeout, anything to keep him out of the building. He knows himself well enough to know he won’t be able to handle Will’s big sad eyes as he attempts to explain why they can’t be.

A small part of Paul had at least hoped when this day came that Will would dump him first but .. well perhaps he was naive to think they wouldn’t hurt him this way. It’s not as if Sonny had really give a shit about his feelings for the last six months anyways. At the door he pauses to look back at the orchid, still pride of place on his bedside table, and feels something crack opening inside his chest. It’s cold and it’s miserable and it’s almost funny to Paul - in a perverse way - but he thinks this might hurt more than when Sonny dumped him to go find apparently not actually dead Will.

Maybe this is his punishment for keeping Will to himself for those two weeks after he found him.

Maybe Salem just hates him.

The problem with a place like Salem is that no matter where he goes, he can’t seem to find a private or quiet moment. Everyone’s heard the great news and wants to celebrate.

And it is great news. Will being happy? Will remembering his family? It’s fantastic news. All he wants is for Will to feel loved, happy, and safe. It would just be nice if someone could be bothered to remember that Paul’s entire world just got shattered again. He’s not surprised by any means that they don’t but it would have still been nice.

Abby and Chad are the first people he runs into or more accurately run into him. He’d been carrying a beer back to a corner table in the pub onto to collide with Chad halfway there. They’re full of laughter and excitement, apologetic for the mess. He tries to wave it off. Tries to just keep going to his spot but their joy for their friends storybook ending outweighs their ability to see he’s hurting.

Chad even offers to buy him a drink in celebration and Paul figures it’s the look of absolute disbelief on his face that finally clues them both in.

“Paul - we’re sorry..”

It’s Abby who breaks the awkward tension and Paul feels whatever cracked open in his chest earlier twist inside him, eroding away and all the parts of Paul that would usually just accept this. It turns ugly.

“No, I imagine you’re actually probably not.”

He doesn’t bother to wait, just sets his empty glass on the table and weaves his way between tables and to the front door. He can heard Chad say something behind him but he doesn’t pay it any attention.

He tries the club next and in hindsight that’s a rookie mistake on his part. Lucas had been there gushing to Chloe about finally having his son back. That things can finally go back to how they’re supposed to be. It’s yet another reminder that Paul’s the anomaly. The interloper that ruined the epic romance that is Sonny and Will.

It takes them a few moments to realize they have a customer at the counter and Paul’s almost impressed at how little Lucas seems bothered that it’s Paul. Found his son and his girlfriend and he can’t even look sorry for Paul.

That thing inside Paul rears its head again. “You’ve had your son back for months.”

“l -”

He shrugs off whatever Lucas was about to say and gives up on finding somewhere in this hellhole of a town to drink.

He’s queued in line, wanting a coffee to take with him on the stakeout.

“Now they can finally be happy again. They can put all the bad behind them and look forward to the future, they deserve this more than anyone after everything they’ve been through.” Hope’s voice, she’s standing at the counter with Rafe and Ciara.

Her comments are met by a murmur of agreement and Paul manages to slip back out of the cafe without being seen.

It’s hours later when he finally finds himself back in front of the flower shop eyes tracing the closed sign on the front door. He’d been a dozen places today and it all ended the same way. Everyone celebrating for the happy couple and no one sparing even a single second of their time to him. He’d long since stopped interjecting though, what was the point?

“Son?”

He closes his eyes against the voice, and against the building that had meant more to him than he realized, before sighing and eventually turning around to face Marlena and his father.

“Are you alright?” John says gently.

“What.” its flat, less a question and more a statement of disbelief.

“You look upset” Marlena explains. Her smile tinged with sadness and Paul figures a bit of pity.

The hurt and the anger that had been trying to claw its way free all day is rattling around again and this time Paul doesn’t fight against it.

"You dont say.”

“Pa-”

“No.” Its louder than he meant, cutting his dad off. His pain breaking out in that one word. His shout draws the attention of other people in the square. Jennifer and Eric by the pub entrance. Hope and Ciara holding coffees and chatting. Gabi and Ari further back on the bench. They’re all looking at him now and he finds he doesn’t care. He’s tired of all of it.

“I don’t want anyone’s pity and I don’t want your fake sympathy. Everyone gets what they want right? What they’ve wanted for months now? So don’t - don’t offer words you don’t mean”

He trails off, drags a hand through his hair, and takes a step back from his family, needing the space like some sort of barrier against everything. His unhappiness on display for everyone to see.

“You’re meant to be my stepmom and you’ve never cared about my feelings over Sonny’s in this once. You’ve never cared about my feelings at all.” He turns his attention to the rest of them, his gaze flitting across from one to the next. “None of you did. Not even now. All anyone could talk about was the return of the epic love story and you couldn’t be bothered to shut up about even when I was in the room… if you even bothered to notice me at all. Because I don’t belong here so I? I’ll never truly be a part of this town and frankly? I don’t want to be anymore.”

He turned his gaze away and found himself looking at the flower shop again and felt his heart fracture again. It was nice, while it lasted, to have someone care back.

“Paul.”

He flinches at his name this time because it’s not Marlena and it’s not his father. In fact it’s not any of the people who stood and watched him start to lose it. This is worse because this time it’s Will.

He spares a glance and feels whatever small sliver of hope he had left wither at the sight of Sonny over Will’s shoulder. So he turns his attention back to his dad even as he starts walking backwards “I took a case from the pile. “

“Paul wait.”

“I’ll be back in a few days.”

He’s nearly to edge of the square, if he can make the park he can literally sprint away from his troubles.

So he does exactly that.

He’s gone for eight days. He’d solved the case in two, sent his dad the information, and then stayed gone. Will had called one a day, every day he was gone. Paul had ignored every call and deleted every voicemail without listening to it. He didn’t want apologies. He didn’t want explanations. He just wanted to forget everything about it. He’d known better, he had, and that was the worst part. No one was more to blame for the current situation that Paul himself.

He’d known anything to do with Will would have the potential for heartbreak. That it was messy and a stupid idea and he’d done it anyways. But there had just been something about Will so he’d let it happen. Running away in front of everyone like that had been melodramatic, especially when they’d never even said I love you, but facing it all head on has been too big a task in the moment.

So he’d been gone for eight days and come to the decision that he couldn’t stay in Salem anymore. Which was why he’d quietly come back to the town and quickly packed up the most important stuff he had into a suitcase and was making his way back across the square hoping no one would stop him. He almost made it too when the door to New Beginnings flew open and his name was shouted across the Square.

“Paul Narita if you take one more step so help me god.”

Pursing his lips he took a calming breath before turning around to look across the square at a visibly angry Will standing in the shops doorway.

“You disappear for eight days and then skulk back in and out of town? Ignore my calls? I don’t get the decency of a response?”

Will seemed to be offended and Paul wasn’t sure if the urge to laugh was general amusement of the edges of hysteria.

“We don’t have anything to talk about.”

“Liar.” Will snapped.

Paul could feel eyes on him. Knew they were causing a scene. So be it then.

“You kissed him.”

“So that’s it. You just give up? Superhero Paul rolls over and plays dead?”

Paul was almost always calm. Almost always controlled and the few times he wasn’t it wasn’t any big display of temper. It was a quiet fury he would exude on most days but not this time. This time it was loud and showy and he didn’t give a damn.

“Give up? Give up!? Why is it always up to me? Why do I always have to beg someone to pick me?” He slammed his suitcase to the ground and pointed a finger across the square at Will. “You can fuck off Will Horton. You made me trust you. You made me care about you and then you didn’t even have the decency to dump me before kissing him"

Will was already stalking across the square before Paul had even finished speaking only to pull up short at Paul’s accusation.

“I didn’t kiss him.”

“I saw it.” Paul shouted, his voice cracking slightly. “I stood there and I watched it happen through the window while listening to people gush about you two. I’m not going to beg for your affection. I’m tired of fighting for people who don’t want me.”

Paul hardened himself against the sadness Will practically radiated, the other man had made his choice. Snatching up his suitcase again he turned and started to storm off.

“I love you, you stubborn stupid idiot.”

It froze him in his tracks. He could hear the murmur of voice around his as the people watching them reacted to Will’s shouted confusion.

“He kissed me. He showed up so excited because he’d heard I remembered everything and I had but I’d been looking for you at the store and before I could explain that he’d kissed me. I told him no and we argued and I just wanted to find you but I couldn’t. I tried your room and the office and then I finally found you here and you just… left. Without a word.”

Paul turned back slowly, eyes wide, and a face of confusion.

“I tried calling you, I wanted to explain.”

“You told him no?”

The incredulous look on Will’s face was almost funny. “That’s your only take away? That’s all you have to say? You’re an asshole,you know that?”

“You really picked me?” For the first time in eight days Paul smiled. A smile so big and so pure it lit his whole face up. “You love me?”

Will’s irritation with him melted away instantly and he took a hesitant step towards Paul only for Paul to close the gap between them and wrap his arms tightly around Will’s waist. Will’s arms went around Paul’s neck as Paul buried his face in the crook of Will’s.

“I’m sorry I’m an asshole.”

"It’s okay, we all have bad days.”

Paul laughed happily before pulling back slightly so he could brush a light kiss across Will’s lips. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain.”

“I’m sorry you thought I didn’t want you.” Will leaned in and Paul took the hint kissing him him again, this time with more force.

Paul let himself be pulled back towards the flower shop unable to stop smiling as warmth chased away all the hurt he’d had for the past week. “Will.”

“Yeah?” he glanced back over his shoulder

“I love you.”

Will’s answering smile is beautiful.

42 notes · View notes

helloharani · 3 years

Text

the “big” age

Recently, my morning routines have been quite calm. Only recently, because I just finished my second last semester of university. ...

... CRISIS TIME!!! But even with classes during the last few months, my days have been generally filled with things to do. Over the year, I have built sort of a schedule. I think with everyone being at home because of Covid, we’ve been pacing ourselves a bit, “pacing” mean that there are things that happen throughout the week that make me realise how the days are passing. Back to the morning. I’ve concluded that I like having a good breakfast. I think it might be my favourite meal of the day, or at least the most impactful. Even if I wake up at 11 a.m., I find myself eating “breakfast” and then a late lunch. Breakfast is accompanied by coffee, which I have found important to my system. I learned to make my own milk coffee (I guess you could call it a latte under certain circumstances) over the holidays thanks to my mom and Uncle Wasy. He gave us some filter paper and good coffee powder. Haru takes her morning rounds - she walks in and out of the house, back to the food bowl and away. It gets funny sometimes, everyone wonders why she does it but we’ve just decided that she’s just a wanderer. She’s grown a lot fatter. Snowy would still be sleeping, either on the couch or in my room. Someone (usually my mom) would open the door to my room for him every morning. We have to give him medicine for the next few days. He looked a little sick, and after a trip to the vet we found out that he has a lack of teeth (sigh), and that he was probably sick from flu season. I got worried because he was losing weight. I don’t like thinking about my cats growing old. Or anyone I love, honestly. The days vary. I’ve been trying to exercise every one or two days, right now I’m trying to stick to this everyday Yoga routine by following a Youtuber named Adrienne. Without class I’ve dedicated all my time to reading, and throughout the past two weeks I’ve revisited an old book series that I hope to write about here soon. I’m mostly in the comfort of my coping mechanisms. When I have the energy I like to see my friends. The nights usually end with snow sessions with Firdaus through FaceTime. Uncle Wasy and Aunty Zura come over every Saturday for dinner. It feels different that they’ve been around so often, but a good kind of different. I’d like to think that it has always been this way. It feels like it would have been if they weren’t travelling so much every year. Unfortunately for them, Covid has bound them here for now. Aniqah, Kasih, Myra and I have picked up Girl Guides again properly by trying to achieve the Duke of Edinburgh award. I now see them every Friday for Capoeira class with Norma. Mia is there too. For once we’re all exercising together. I’ve also picked up bass and Ian teaches me through Zoom every Thursday. I thought I’d give it a try because I’ve been feeling disconnected from the keys. Hopefully this transition creates a new bond for music and me. Senja has been on a break for a while. We’re having our first show in months this Saturday. It’s not actually a show, it’s more of a pre-recording that will be up on YouTube. Our EP recording has been halted until things get better. I start my internship at MalaysiaKini tomorrow. I also turn 21 in a few hours. I think what I’m most scared about is throwing my life away. I don’t mean this by me giving up and becoming a slump forever. I mean as in forgetting. I’m not sure if I’ve told anyone this but I have a feeling that if I live long, I’ll suffer from amnesia and that will bring my demise. I wanted to write this to solidify what I know and what life feels like right now. Turning 21 feels different than turning 20, even though that was the year I left the teens. Who knew that I would end up wanting to be alone on my 21st birthday? I would like to laugh. I told my friends I didn’t want to celebrate in at all this year. I’ve had the privilege of being surprised and being thrown gatherings by them for the last few years, ever since high school and I couldn’t be more grateful. But I’ve cemented that I want a break this year to just absorb everything. Partly because on my birthdays, I usually end up feeling terrible. I’ve always felt that at the end of the day, when I see people, I feel the need to please them rather than do what I want to do. And I think this year I’ve become strong enough to actually WANT to do what I want, instead of backing down. I blame Covid. This year I’ve ventured into myself unlike any other year, and I know for a fact who really cares and who doesn’t. I don’t want my birthday to be just another reason for anyone to do anything for me. Do I sound selfish and whiny? I’m sorry. Anyway, I don’t know where this ramble is going to. Wake up! You’re 21 soon! I can’t see what is going to happen tomorrow, or the day after, or the next few days. For good or for bad, I just hope that my 21st year of being alive will be a year full of happy memories, both big and small.

From 20-year old me to future me. You are sad and you prefer spending time alone at home (a drastic change from pre-Covid Inarah). You don’t know why. You’ve been let down a lot, both by people and yourself. You’ve found a new sense of gratitude for your privileges, your friends and especially your family; although you have problems showing so. Everything feels mundane, sometimes you don’t even feel like eating. But sometimes you feel good, and you can laugh and cry without feeling bad. I wonder if everyone will still be living together in a few years. Will I move out? Will we move out? I kind of hope not. What will the politics be like then? Will we go back to living physically instead of virtually? What new items will I own, and what old ones will I let go of? I hope in the future you find a balance that works for you, and I hope you get to go to sleep feeling good instead of the opposite. I hope you embrace growing up instead of feeling bitter about it, and I hope you enjoy what you do. I hope you cultivate good and healthy relationships, and maybe a better lifestyle. Also, keep your room clean -

- and stay true to yourself. Sending hope and love.

Lepaklu 30th November 2020

#when #will #i #learn #how #to #handle #my #feelings #properly

0 notes

mothdogs · 6 years

Text

i was talking to a friend about lesbian poets today. just briefly i mentioned the ones i’ve read--adrienne rich, marilyn hacker, audre lorde, sappho--and, inspired by a tumblr post, i then checked out a book by mary oliver. oliver was 70 when she lived through the death of a woman who had been her partner for more than 30 years. thinking about that, the timespans of these women’s lives, made me think a little bit about my personal history and my sexuality. i was going to make this a comic - and i still might, some day - but for now i just want to put it down in prose. thanks in advance for reading, if you do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

one of the surefire ways that i know i have a crush on someone is that i daydream about seeing them while out and about. i realized this in college when i’d fantasize about running into my cute coworker while out buying groceries or at the bookstore, but i’ve done it for a long time. it’s always been one of those funny lurking thoughts--will i see X today, even in a place i normally wouldn’t? will i get a glimpse of X at random before they see me? will they come over and strike up a conversation?

after this understanding--along with many smaller pieces that have taken years to fall into place in my brain--reflecting back on my youth changes the landscape of my memories. when i was seven years old and in the third grade, my teacher, mrs. maugins, also went to my family’s church. i remember loving mrs. maugins’ class, and whenever i was at church i’d fidget nervously in the hallways and the chapel, wondering if i would run into her, wondering what she was wearing or if she’d say hello to me. at that age i was too young to understand what this meant, and as i grew further into adolescence i was too sheltered by my overbearing mother to know much about crushes or sexuality at all. i knew that jesus thought sexual thoughts were dirty and sinful. homosexuality was never discussed by either of my parents when i was a child, ever.

when i was thirteen, a butch girl named ashley joined my karate class. she was the first lesbian i remember meeting. i didn’t have a crush on her, i don’t think, but i was awed by her boldness. she was probably sixteen or so at the time, but she wore her dark hair in a buzz-cut and had one ear pierced and proclaimed that she was a lesbian without appearing to be concerned with how anyone whispered about it. i was fascinated by her. my karate school was held in a church, and all the teenage girls in the class used to have sleepovers and bible study nights with one of our female mentors. i remember our mentor driving me, ashley, and two other friends to the mall one day. our mentor tried to teach us about what the bible apparently says against homosexuality, but ashley rebutted her arguments and held firm. silently, from the back seat, i cheered her on.

timelines after that get a bit hazy. when i was about fifteen, a new russian transfer student moved into my math class. she was a year older than me and also claimed to be gay, and said she had a girlfriend who went to a different school. she wore her hair in a bob and had a beautiful button nose--i remember this because i used to give her sideways glances whenever i could. i think her name was anna. she transferred after that year--it was something to do with a mix-up in credits from her previous school, and i never saw her again. around the same time, i took an interest in a girl two years older than me who rode the same bus. she was a fantastic artist, and one day she saw my sketchbook and asked to look at it. i remember being surprised and awed that she would even speak to me, and i remember mentally remarking at how long her eyelashes were.

when i was sixteen, i took a gym class where the only people i knew were two bitchy gossip-spreading girls, one of whom was the little sister of my best friend. this girl was truly a vile person--racist, petty, mean-spirited, and more--but i felt like i couldn’t say anything to her that would upset my friendship with my best friend. one day when we were running laps and we passed the gym teacher, a bulldyke lesbian named coach b, my “friend” started making jokes about how coach b kept a dildo in her desk drawer, how her “partner” was rumored to be uglier than she was, and how she probably stared at our classmates in the locker room. this last especially was patently false--coach b didn’t go into the locker room unless it was to scold us to get started with class--but what did i do? i didn’t defend her, this lesbian woman who was being scorned and mocked, this woman for whom i felt an inexplicable kinship and pity. no, i joined in making jokes about her. the memory of it shames me to this day.

(i even tried to look up her email address to send her a letter of apology a few years ago, but can find no trace of her on my high school’s website. i hope that wherever she ended up is more open and accepting than my town is.)

throughout all of this time, in high school and into my first two years of college, i dated several boys. after breaking up with my first long-term (2+ years) boyfriend, i struggled to understand why i didn’t enjoy having sex with him. sure, it felt good--or at least the foreplay did--but i didn’t feel that deepness, the emotional connection that he claimed we had. ditto for the guy i dated a year later; i struggled to make him happy in the bedroom, told myself that if he was enjoying himself then i would just enjoy that and it would be enough for me--but of course it wasn’t enough, and we parted ways after a bit more than a year.

i don’t remember when i first thought the words “i am a lesbian.” i know it was after i started dating my first girlfriend. i was 20 at the time, and pursued her with a hunger and a passion that surprised even me. despite her hesitancy to date me due to age differences, we soon fell in together, and even though our relationship turned tempestuous and unhappy pretty quickly, i found in her arms the satisfaction and the depth of emotion that i’d never known with any boy before. things started to click into place--my secret adolescent obsession with “gay” media, which was forbidden by my parents and my religion; my hatred of girly clothing and my desire to dress in suits and binders; and all of the seemingly small instances that i’ve just laid out. somehow, unknowingly, i’d been forming my identity as a lesbian woman all along.

and now i’m looking ahead at what the future holds. my goal is to find a full-time job that can support me moving out of my parent’s house within the next two years; once i get my master’s degree i’ll have a lot more freedom to acquire a well-paying career. i’ll be able to start pursuing romantic relationships then. i’ll be able to start working towards my dreams--of being an archivist, a beekeeper, a wife who can provide for my future wife. i’m going to fucking get there.

i think the point of writing all of this was to articulate: i was a lesbian my whole life, even when i didn’t know it yet, and that’s a beautiful thing to think about.

#text #feel free to message me if you've had similar realizations or experiences!#lesbians #lesbian writing #wlw

15 notes · View notes

adriennescomingbacktolife · 4 years

Text

(I)

“So what do you do?”

The bartender kept trying. After all, Adrienne Levi had been nursing the same glass of Jameson’s he had poured her an hour ago. His question didn’t prompt a response immediately. She was lost in what led her to break the routine in the first place. Maybe this was celebratory. After all, she had just FedEx’d her signed contract to a small independent company in Maryland. It was a culmination of thirteen months of hard work and intense training. On the other hand, her cat died yesterday so maybe this was in remembrance to Jimmy - a former stray that had just showed up at her front door like a day after … well, she wasn’t really sure.

Her face was illuminated in the low lighting of the bar by her iPhone. She stared intently at a text conversation that hadn’t been replied to since last summer.

u want anything?

She looked up finally. He was attractive, sure. Blonde hair neatly combed over. Blue piercing eyes. Nice smile. He hadn’t shaved in a few days. His Rumba Island Bar & Grill polo complimented his broad shoulders …

Adrienne looked back down. It was checked Read.

“Kind of hard to explain, Charles.”

After all, it was on his shiny gold name tag.

“Charlie works.”

“Does it?”

Charlie laughed nervously as he served another customer a few stools down from her. Meanwhile, Adrienne considered the answer. What does she do? For the past decade, she’d been a mannequin modeling something picked out for her to wear. Usually a shiny vibrant number that rode up her thighs every time she climbed up into that ring to open the ropes. She had been a diversion. The reason why things went well or especially when they didn’t.

But that had dried up.

Adrienne brushed a lock of her dark hair from her face. She finally took a second sip, it went down smooth. And there Charlie was, still expecting an answer. So - she did.

“I call people who don’t pay their bills.”

Then Charlie got real brave.

“Those bruises on your arm from that?”

That would be a funny story. Easier to explain than it being the result of steel cords cutting in her flesh as she willingly ran into them for momentum. Her Led Zeppelin t-shirt, the one for a concert she was never at because she wasn’t even alive, covered up the matching ones on her upper back.

“What do you think?”

He shrugged his shoulders. There were plenty of other people he could dote on. She could settle up with the coins in her wallet and be on her way. She was morbidly curious however.

“You by yourself?”

There we go. She stifled a chuckle as the third sip wasn’t a sip at all. She emptied the glass and clinked it down on the bar. He was quick with the bottle but Adrienne’s hand over the glass was quicker.

“On me.”

“I’m good.”

“Fair enough. You waiting for someone?”

This close Levi could smell the contents of this very bottle on his breath.

“Nah, Danny’s overseas.”

She lifted up from the stool to retrieve her wallet from the back pocket of her jeans. The bartender, he really was easy on the eyes if one didn’t think about the type of person he seemed to be. Small sample size, sure. But that’s all it took for Daniel Levi. Danny was…

She bit her tongue.

Danny always has a way with words and Adrienne believed him. Always at the cusp of greatness. Just one more hurdle. Sometimes he got in his own way but she’d never say that outloud. It was always something else. It was the management here in Clearwater. Out west, it was the nagging injuries, she supposed. But in Japan? The sky’s the limit. Magnificent Danny Levi…

“Hey, that’s alright. My shift is over in twenty, how about we grab dinner?”

“Charlie.”

She palmed a fiver on the counter, her gold wedding band clear and present. Adrienne cast a glance over to the platinum blonde trying to balance a shot glass between her ginormous breasts.

“She’s more your speed.”

Adrienne left, popping in a pair of earbuds as she walked. His playlist came on immediately. After some of Pink Floyd’s usual ambience, Gilmour asked almost defiantly, “Where were you when I was burned and broken…”

She was a lightweight these days so after two ounces, she felt a little levity in this whole situation. A few more and Charlie and his whiskey dick could have made her forget about all of this for a little while. After all, fair's fair. However, the Levi apartment was only a few blocks away and the night air was cool against her skin. As Adrienne opened the front door, she nudged the bag of cat food just inside. She should probably cancel that subscription. She tossed the keys onto a table with an answering machine. One new message.

“Hey Ade, it’s your mother. Look, I don’t know how to say this but I’m gonna try again. Daniel. Danny, he’s--”

She deleted the message. Adrienne smiled flippantly. Everytime her mother talked like this, it was like being fifteen again. And Danny was seventeen but he was the only boy that got her. No, mommy, I love him, he’s perfect. But mommy and daddy didn’t like Danny.

The lights turned on automatically as she stepped into the living room. She flopped on the patch work couch and kicked her feet up on the coffee table, the sneakers sailing off her feet like a pair of awkward birds before landing on the carpet. She flipped through her social media feed. And while she tried to focus on her new employment status in Carnage Wrestling, a small part of her wished she listened.

For her entire adult life, Adrienne had stood in Danny’s shadow. But it was the twilight of his career - or maybe he’d come to the terms that he never reached the summit in the first place. And now Adrienne had a chance to show that she was more than what others assumed. What Danny assumed.

You don’t need that, he’d say. Why fix what isn’t broken?

Her fists clenched at that notion. The paydays had dried up. Six days a week, Adrienne was harassing folks about debts that had been purchased for pennies on the dollar with the intent to collect. In the bouts of being screamed at, some would like her supposedly sultry voice and … whatever. She had wiped away a joint savings account in the hopes of staking claim to just who she was. One of Danny’s friends said he’d train her but three grand didn’t amount to much more than the basics. Or how to work the stick. He emphasized those words as if she didn’t know what he meant.

And yet, CW reached out. Next month, she had her first opportunity to step out in front of a paying audience against an opponent that wasn’t sparring with her. Starburst, or Regina Del Gato, was intriguing to say the least. A multi-disciplined martial artist with uncanny aerial abilities. And yet, it hadn’t translated into much success.

Loser.

Adrienne scoffed. Danny had a terrible habit of deriding his competition. He never had anything positive to say about them so when he inevitably lost, he was absolutely enraged. She tried as much as she could with those soft suggestions. She sat back and closed her eyes.

And there they were. She’d get a private dressing room usually but Danny and Adrienne Levi were a package deal.

She knelt beside him, threading pink laces through the eyelets of his white boots.

“Who am I facing?”

“You aren’t facing anyone.”

He ignored that, snatching a match card from his bag.

“Look at the tits on this one, A. She must have terrible back problems.”

“Don’t take her lightly.”

“Gonna motorboat her.”

Danny’s skin was glistening with baby oil. It was for the lighting he claimed but he always thought it was clever to be slippery. Eventually, though, he was caught. She didn’t care. These moments of confidence were peaceful, though. And she’d be remiss if she didn’t find his toothy grin to be attractive as he ran people down to an audience of one. Not only that, when you thought of a professional wrestler, Danny Levi was typecast into the role. He looked the part. Strong frame, musculature fitting of a Greek god, and that damn mustache. She didn’t care that it belonged to a bygone era.

“No, really, it’s my turn.”

He laughed, causing her to miss the last hole.

“Not tonight. This could be it. This could be my big chance and I need you in my corner.”

That spotlight burned on him the brightest, glimmering off another relic of the past - a gaudy white and pink sequined robe. He’d spin around, reveling in whatever reaction he garnered and then … and only then, she would join him. With arms linked, they sauntered down to the ring. Up the steps, she stood on the apron as he reprised his braggadocious posing.

“Come on, open the ropes for me already.”

Her eyes shot open, she had dozed off.

“...no.”

That robe was hanging in the corner of the room, surrounded by other artifacts of his storied career. Some Orlando based championship he won in his rookie year. And lots of pictures of him. Some had her in them, too. She looked like a clown with smokey eyes and blood red lipstick. But anyway, that robe, he’d left it behind. Danny claimed that he could reinvent himself. That these Japanese crowds appreciate guys like him. Guys that put the work in.

That was a stretch, she admitted. Danny took shortcuts and sometimes they worked but most times, they amounted to little more than inspiring whoever he was fighting.

That’s a promise she made to herself. She wouldn’t overlook anyone. Who was Adrienne to do that anyway? There was no doubt that Regina was more than ready to get her first victory in CW. A brief glimpse into what she’s said and what she’s done would reveal the indiscretions of youth. There was a fine line between arrogance and confidence. Del Gato made bold proclamations. Her first of many great achievements was to not be the one pinned. Followed up by a middle of the pack elimination. Moral victories, Danny called them. Didn’t fail, but didn’t get it done either.

Adrienne suddenly felt overwhelmed. Up until now, Regina stood across long time veterans and this Starburst stood her ground. First ever professional match, that must feel like chum in the water for this young competitor.

Danny loved those matchups. It was always some rube that hadn’t seen through his tricks. He would grin and say that he was making a statement. The mark would have a long night and he’d celebrate by drinking a little too much and passing out in the hotel room. What always irked her is that he was always so complimentary to their faces. We’re going to put on a show, he’d claim. And that smile, she knew that smile. It never reached his eyes. There was one real smile he had and she saw it rarely. Maybe when she was reciting the wedding vows that he curated.

She was wandering around the point and that was what? It can’t be that. Just think of it as that boundless youthful exuberance. Or maybe it was insincerity.

Scrolling through Regina’s wall, she dismissed that. Adrienne Levi was not raised to think the worst of people. Twitter minimized and she started to record. The angle and lighting was unflattering and honestly, she didn’t know what to say. The camera framed her face as she looked down into the lens.

“So, hello, I guess.”

Her free hand waved at the camera.

“I’m Adrienne. First and foremost, I want to thank Carnage Wrestling for this monumental opportunity.”

Levi sighed, that same hand involuntarily twirling a lock of her thick dark hair. There was an extended silence as she carefully considered her words.

“So I’ve … been in this business since I was nineteen but never once as the performer. So thirteen years, right? Anyway, it’s a tremendous honor for me to be facing such a vibrant and dedicated talent as Starburst in my very first match.”

Another prolonged silence.

“What else?”

At first there was a positive lilt to her tone but her next words were solemn and deliberate.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for a very long time. And I don’t know what my future holds. I don’t know if I have many great achievements in store for me.”

She shook her head. Adrienne knew that sort of sentiment was self-defeating but she didn’t want to start building this on a lie.

“I’m ready. Yeah, I’m ready to defy that destiny preordained to me so long ago. So Regina, I can’t promise much more than my best. Just what that is?”

Shrugging her shoulders, the seemingly lonely woman pondered that.

“You know, I admire your outlook. You could have easily let a few mishaps define you. But you didn’t…”

Adrienne trailed off, but reaffirmed her stance.

“You didn’t. I wish … I could say the same. But think of it like this: this is sort of a fresh start for you. So if you don’t mind, a free bit of advice. Something I’ve had to level with myself. Heard it somewhere in the industry. Sometimes, you just need to step back and reevaluate your expectations.”

She clicked off the recording. For a moment, she considered deleting the video.

What the hell? Where’s the bravado? Where’s the big takedown?

Adrienne wanted to hear his voice, longed to even. She considered pressing that green button when she remembered that he never had his phone on him on show days anyway. The thirteen hour difference was havoc on their marriage and it felt like he was in a different realm altogether.

Summoned all of the courage she could muster, she uploaded the promo piece for the denizens of Carnage Wrestling.

Too late to stop now.

#firstmatch firstpromo carnagewrestling chaos93

0 notes

theseventhhex · 7 years

Text

Jenny Berkel Interview

Jenny Berkel

Photo by Justin Morabito

Since releasing her debut album, ‘Here on a Wire’, Canadian singer-songwriter Jenny Berkel has been intoxicating listeners with her evocative songs and voice. Born in the heart of Ontario’s lush forests and fields, Berkel’s music has drawn her from rural Ontario to Winnipeg to Toronto and now, finally, to Montreal. This constant shifting finds its rest in her songs: her lyrics are dreamy and piercing, shimmering with memories and glittering with the quiet solitude of a night sky. Jenny’s most recent body of work, ‘Pale Moon Kid’, sees the gifted artist excel with sparkling guitars, sparse piano, pulsing bass and percussion, this glowing new collection reveals writing that has grown even sharper and more lyrical… We talk to Jenny about truth in the political landscape, nostalgia and TV shows…

TSH: Since your last full-length, what would you say has been at the heart of your current songwriting sessions?

Jenny: Movement and memory. I’m a sucker for slow songs, but lately I’ve been pushing my songs into quicker tempos. I’ve also been writing longer, more verbose lines of lyrics in order to reshape and play with my phrasing. Thematically, I’ve been examining memory and its flexibility from different angles, both intimately and socio-politically. It’s hard not to think about the fluidity of truth in our current “fake-news” landscape.

TSH: Moreover, what’s impacted your thought process most in the last twelve months or so?

Jenny: The restructuring of truth that is rampant in the political landscape. It has been so surreal watching the news unfold day after day. When I first started writing the new album, Trump and Clinton were still campaigning. The reality that is our world now didn’t seem possible. I’ve been thinking a lot about how stories are shaped and formed (often by those in power). We had a big sexual assault case in Canada last year with CBC host Jian Ghomeshi. At the same time, the Stanford rape case was in the news. Then a farmer in rural Saskatchewan shot and killed a young Indigenous man (Colton Boushie) last year for “trespassing.” As all this was happening, a family member of mine was also battling cancer, which made me reflect a lot on the memories of her that I have stored up. So, I’ve been thinking a lot about memory, story, truth and the apparent fluidity of all three.

TSH: Knowing ‘Pale Moon Kid’ has been released for over a year now, when you overlook this body of work, what does it signify to you?

Jenny: Good question — I think it signifies a new boldness and confidence, both sonically and lyrically. The songs were written over a period of three years, during which I moved around from city to city. Consequently, the album feels like a collection of places.

TSH: Is the immediate release of tension still one of the aspects that pleases you most with your musical ventures?

Jenny: I think that feeling will always be the most visceral and immediate elements of songwriting, but as I get more and more connected with my voice, I think the part that pleases me most is when lyrics are fitted perfectly to the melody. There are little parts of songs that I look forward to singing every time, no matter how many times I sing them.

TSH: Also, do the harmony lines in hymns still affect and move you?

Jenny: Certainly. At least, the dissonant ones. I would say it’s less hymns and more the old sacred choral pieces that move me. For example, Miserere by Gregorio Allegri. It brings me to tears every single time.

TSH: The track ‘Winnipeg’ is so impressive from a compositional sense. What sort of energy were you looking to imply as this one was coming to fruition?

Jenny: Thank you! It’s interesting you comment on that one, as I was uncertain about the direction we took it in the studio. It’s a big sounding song. The chord structure really demands that feeling — we felt that the recording had to be big and climactic, yet still with a sense of quiet beneath because of the lyrical content.

TSH: Furthermore, with a song like ‘Tall Tales’, what part would you say you focused on most?

Jenny: Probably the guitar parts — the arrangement of this song came out of shows I did as a duo with my sister, Kay. It was my first time writing a guitar solo.

TSH: Does it remain key for you to solidify your unique voice as a writer?

Jenny: Yes. I think it’s so important. Lyrics will always be one of the most important parts of songwriting to me. The songs that I love are the ones that couldn’t have been written by anybody else. The band Big Thief is a really good example — her lyrics are so distinctive and pure. Leonard Cohen too…his lyrical approach is so recognisable.

TSH: Do you feel it’s more liberating to make your songs broad enough to mean something for all listeners?

Jenny: Definitely. It allows me to distance myself from my work. As a shy person, this is very liberating. I want people to be able to listen and connect in their own way. For that same reason, I don’t like telling everybody what songs are about before I play them at a show. I want people to be able to listen from their own place of understanding.

TSH: Does nostalgia inform your music quite a bit?

Jenny: I’m a very nostalgic person — I ruminate a lot, which can be both positive and negative. It does mean there is always something to write about, waiting to be uncovered. Poet Rainer Maria Rilke says in Letters to a Young Poet that “if your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself, tell yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its riches…even if you were in some prison…would you not then still have your childhood, that precious, kingly possession, that treasure-house of memories?” I love looking back for material.

TSH: Can you tell us about some of the non-musical elements that seep into your music…

Jenny: Sure - I read a lot of novels and poetry. This year, I discovered poet Adrienne Rich. Her work has completely absorbed me ever since. I also read Moby Dick for the first time this year and couldn’t believe how good it was. I love writing new songs after reading somebody else’s work. It brings new themes into my own songs. There are so many good shows these days — Master of None is one of my favourites. I watched Handmaid’s Tale recently, which is very pertinent to the themes of memory and truth that I discussed earlier.

TSH: What type of distractions do you want to steer clear of?

Jenny: Facebook comments on news stories. I try to ignore them but sometimes I get sucked into reading them. I guess in a way, it's a good reminder of the diversity of opinions out there. It’s so easy to get stuck in one’s own little echo chamber. But sometimes those comment feeds feel like a dangerous whirlpool.

TSH: What sort of TV do you watch in your spare time?

Jenny: That really depends on my mood — if I’ve been writing all day, I like to watch something light after. Brooklyn 99 is one of my favourites for that. Seinfeld too. If I’m in a brighter headspace, I’ll watch something more serious like the Handmaid’s Tale.

TSH: How cool is it to have your sister Kay to lean on for support and guidance?

Jenny: I feel tremendously lucky to have her in my life, both for her support and her musicality.

TSH: Speaking of your sister, are the empty cassettes that you recorded on when you were younger consisting of songs about curls, loops and nice shoes still around today?

Jenny: Haha, I hope so! They are very, very funny. I believe they’re somewhere in our parents’ place — I’d like to dig them up and share some clips.

TSH: As you look ahead with your musical endeavours, what is your biggest drive?

Jenny: Writing songs that feel true.

Jenny Berkel - “Wealth in the Country ”

Pale Moon Kid

#Interview #Jenny Berkel

0 notes