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jokeroutsubs · 10 months

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Interview with Joker Out's member Nace Jordan, from Slovenian magazine Kranjčanka!

"Enriched by a special experience"

We caught up with Nace Jordan, bassist of Joker Out, a week or so after the Eurovision show in Liverpool, a few days after the show in Zagreb, and just before they left for the show in Dublin, where they sold out their first show in twenty minutes… On stage, they kept company to the Irish performers.

The fact that this guy, who is otherwise from Mlaka (T.N: small village near Kranj), is fully booked, can be confirmed by telling you that he moved into a new flat in March of this year - he has been living in Ljubljana for some time now - but he has spent less than 14 days there until it was time for the Eurovision Song Contest. He still returns to Kranj at least twice a week to visit his mother and to stay true to himself: he decided to get a personal trainer a while ago, so now he also goes to Kranj to train there.

Nace Jordan came into contact with music in primary school. He first played the guitar, which he soon replaced with the bass guitar. "Around the fifth grade of primary school (T.N: 10-11 years old), I became interested in instruments and a classmate and I decided to start a music group. He bought a drum set and I bought an electric guitar. Then we quickly saw that there were no bass players. So I sold the guitar and bought a bass guitar," he explains. He has no formal musical training, but says he has been lucky that wherever he has gone in life, there has always been a good mentor who has been able to guide him.

I: How long did this primary school group last?

N: In those days it was a well-known Kranj band called Success. We did a lot of gigs. It's interesting that all the band members from that time are now living off music. They are, for example, the guitarist Nejc Ušlakar, Tajda Jovanović - also from Mlaka - who is a top classical singer and used to sing at the famous Scala in Milan; if I am not mistaken, she is now teaching classical singing in Dubai. We just created an environment for ourselves and stayed in music. The drummer and keyboard player, Aljaž Bernik and Miha Petrovič, have, for example, a very successful wedding band, called Pop Deluxe.

I: What came after primary school? (* (T.N: In Slovenia, primary school lasts for 9 years, from ages 6-15)

N: I enrolled at the then Iskra University, majoring in mechatronics, but just before graduation I started working - actually playing on a cruiser. By some chance I found myself at a jam session open mind in Kranj, where the Kranj drummer Rok Rozman was looking for someone to go on the boat with him. He was impressed with me, I auditioned and of course they weren't very happy at home when I confronted them with the fact that I was going to take my final exams the following year. I was just 18 years old.

I: Was that a cruise ship?

N: Yes. We were travelling in the Baltic Ocean. I remember that we started in Germany, in a port north of Hamburg, then continued on to Gdansk, St Petersburg and to the Scandinavian countries.

l: That was probably the only time you've been on a cruise ship of that kind, a tourist cruise ship?

I've had a lot of people ask me if I would ever go on holiday on a cruise ship. Probably not. But I would go and have another look at the one I played on.

I: When you came back to Slovenia, did you graduate from high school? N: I didn't and I still regret it a little bit. When I came back from the ship, I started working with the singer Katarina Malo. During that time, I was also taken under the wing of two musicians from Primorska (T.N.: a region in the South-Western part of Slovenia) - that's what I mentioned: I found myself somewhere and then a mentor came along. I learned a lot from them. They were David Morgan and Denis Beganovic - Kiki. The first one is a top jazz drummer from the coastal area, he organises a lot of stuff, and he also plays with Avtomobili (T.N. slovenian band), I think he even played with Plestenjak (T.N. Jan Plestenjak, a famous Slovenian pop singer) at one point. Whereas Kiki is a multi-instrumentalist. He's an extraordinary talent. He has worked with Kanzyani and other famous DJs and musicians from abroad. He has made a lot of music, and he also led the Big Band from the coastal region. That was a really nice period for me. I even moved to the coastal region for a short period.

I: Why music, why not football?

N: Certainly not football (laughs). It's the sport I'm least talented in, or rather, all ball sports fall into that context - be it table tennis or football; and, even though my surname is Jordan, I'm the worst basketball player in the world (laughs). Just two days ago, I met my first grade teacher, and of course the topic of music and Eurovision came up. She told me that she knew even back then that school was not for me, but that I would definitely do something creative in my life. It brought back memories of how bored I was at school and how I would rather draw under my desk than listen, even though I was not a bad student.

I: You haven't been a member of Joker Out for long.

N: Since last year. Martin Jurkovič, the original bass player, felt at some point that music was not his main path. He is also an extremely talented programmer and is studying in that direction. He wants to study abroad and decided to finish that chapter. I knew the lead singer of the band, Bojan, from some mutual friend groups before, and the guys were looking for someone who was around their age, professional, good at what they do, and they thought of me. And Martin was in favour of me coming into the group instead of him.

I: And did you imagine that the band would continue the way it did?

N: From the beginning I went into the band with a bit of hesitation. I even suggested a test period. I had learnt that there has to be chemistry between the members. And if we didn't get along with each other the way we do, we wouldn't have performed on the Eurovision stage. We would have had a fight otherwise.

I: Do you spend a lot of time together?

N: First there were the Eurovision showcase concerts, and now there is the summer concert tour in Slovenia. We also have quite a few problems, because we get a lot of calls from abroad. It's logistically difficult, so we're looking for a solution to link some of the concerts to the tour. After the Eurovision Song Contest, we really started to get noticed abroad.

I: Was this your first Eurovision Song Contest?

N: Yes. But I have been to EMA (slovenian national selection for ESC) several times before.

I: Was it as you imagined it would be?

N: Even better. I can say that everyone who has been through this kind of experience has told us that it will be really tough: there will be a lot of work, but that we should also expect crazy parties. But in the end, it was much less exhausting than we expected. In fact, we had such a busy schedule beforehand that Eurovision itself was almost easier for us afterwards. We were practically in the Arena for five days, the rest was socialising, interviews and other commitments. In principle, we like that.

I: You seemed to be well received.

N: We were lucky enough to have connected with practically all the performers. We were always in a good mood, which was seen and felt both in the performances and in the interviews, during the statements. We came home really enriched by a special experience. And it was really nice to see how the people at home supported us. After the first semi-final, we got some footage of how they were watching us and we were just amazed how behind Bežigrad (Ljubljana district), let's say, they watched the first semi-final show in an organised way. The energy was crazy, like at a match.

I: What about Liverpool? Was there any time to "play tourists"?

N: During Eurovision, not really. We were in Liverpool before, because we were shooting a video. I think it was after Barcelona, and we did a lot of walking around the city then. For those who like the Beatles, Liverpool is great.

I : How did it come about that you went to Eurovision in the first place?

N : When I came into the group, the guys and I immediately started talking about whether we would go to this year's EMAs. We decided to go. We knew we would definitely be one of the favourites because we have a really big and extremely loyal audience. Well, then the EMA didn't happen. The jury decided to make their own choice, from the five entries who had the most songs of the week during that year. And I think only two of us ended up applying. There was no EMA, and they sent us to Liverpool.

I: You mostly use Slovenian in your songs.

N: Of course. We have a few songs in English, but we mostly sing in Slovenian. We were talking about how we would work going forwards, and we agreed not to bother with the language. We are proud of our Slovenian language. It's really something beautiful when you see an adult Peruvian man or a five-year-old Spanish girl singing our song in Slovenian. In that moment you understand the athletes and you are proud to be Slovenian.

I: How is it on the street? Do people recognise you? You often hear: is that the bass player of Joker Out?

N: Yes, quite. Most of the time it's people who say something nice to you, or want a selfie. Of course, there are also some "admirers" who stick gum all over my car or leave messages. There's a good side and a bad side to being a public personality. Sometimes it requires of you to spend three hours taking photos - but if you enjoy doing something, that's not a problem either.

I: Do you think that it is actually the fact that you get along well in a group that "pulls" in the audience?

N: The energy between us is definitely something that is contagious. I don't know if it's what makes the audience really like us, but it's something that puts even someone who is in a bad mood in a good mood.

Translation by @kurooscoffee (jokeroutsubs). DO NOT REPOST!

#nace jordan #joker out

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killersfool · 5 months

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You Might Get What You Want | ROBERT KEATING

PAIRING: robert keating x original f!character

GENRE: childhood frenemies to lovers

SUMMARY: lucia (luz), nieve ella’s keyboardist, has an estranged history with inhaler—especially with the band’s bassist, bobby. their fiery hatred for eachother rapidly blossoms into something sweet, especially when she learns that he wrote a song about her.

WORDS: 5.8k

WARNINGS: kissing, swearing, alcohol use, mild sexual content

Being Nieve Ella's keyboardist has completely altered the course of my life. Only eight months ago, I was doing my second year of uni, trying to get through a Music course and completely regretting all of my life choices. My favourite part of the day would be getting home and sitting at my piano, writing songs and posting them on Tiktok. Views racked up, followers kept coming in and I think I realised how well everything was going when Laufey commented on my cover of 'Like The Movies'. Then about two weeks later, an email shot through my phone—literally like a bullet to skin. I dropped the rectangular device to the ground mid-lecture, hand on my mouth, teeth in my lip.

Nieve Ella had asked me to join her on tour. With Inhaler.

At first I was laughing, then I was bawling with endless tears of happiness and now I'm on my final show still feeling woozy and adrenaline is banging through my brain. The whole band have become my best friends. And, quite shockingly, me and Inhaler have a weird shared history. I've known them since I was really young. I used to watch their first gigs at tiny venues where they'd run around in the crowd and hardly anyone knew the lyrics. I went to the same school as Bobby, Eli and Ryan who were a bunch of madmen. They'd let me hang out with them backstage or at practice and jam before they finally found a 'proper' keyboardist (Louis). To be honest, I'd always been slightly salty that I never got into the band. But I guess we were never close enough and I could be quite horrible to Bobby — but honestly, he deserved it. He was a whiny, teenage nightmare. Still is. Except he's not a teenager anymore.

Thankfully, Nieve Ella and the band take a train separate to Inhaler. I don't have to hear Bobby's jests 24/7. Today we're heading to Dublin. The final stop of the Cuts and Bruises tour. It's been a long ride but it's all been worth it. I've had the best time ever. I'm listening to the Strokes, a song Bobby recommended to me a few weeks ago. It's been on my mind ever since and I can't stop hearing the same chords and riffs over and over. Even when my headphones leave my ears. The song is 12:51 and funnily enough Bobby has a tattoo right on his bicep with those exact numbers. The lads gave us a rather enjoyable tattoo tour with reasons for each of their inked designs.

I lay back my head against the cushioned seat. I like this, I prefer it to what I was doing before. The constant stress, the exams, the structure. I like the freedom of doing shows and seeing new people and travelling to new places. Never sure what you're in for. Crowd after crowd with all different energies and enthusiasm. The adrenaline rush is the best part of the day but when you wake up the following morning, it's like the life has been sucked out of you. You feel like nothing. Human. A person with legs and arms. Flailing around with no thoughts in your head. A billion times worse than a hangover. Post concert depression. The lull after such a powerful high. It's nice to go through that hell with a group of friends who all feel the same way. Becomes a strange group therapy.

For the past hour, I've been begging Josh to tell me what is on the set list. I'm praying they'll add some different songs. Older ones. Seeing as it's the last show of the tour. Something to surprise the fans. Maybe 'Falling In' or 'There's No Other Place' or even my favourite 'You Might Get What You Want'. That was one that was written when Rob was the lead singer of the band. When I'd bang the keys in that garage. When we'd sing the lyrics together and sound like an awful church choir. I never got the chance to listen to it live, performed properly by the band. I'm still heartbroken they didn't leave it on the track list for the album. I have to resort to listening to illegal Spotify versions.

I feel like crying everytime I remember this is the last show I might ever do with Inhaler. The last time I might see the lot of them. They'll surely disappear off into the shadows once tour is over, making their next album, cutting off all contact to focus solely on their music. After spending so much time with a group of people, then completely losing them from your life, you just feel so very empty. Like a swimming pool with no water. Or a mug of tea left hollow after spilling it all by accident. Last night — I would never dare to admit this to anyone — I cried for two hours straight into the pillow of my hotel room. Tour is a glorious thing. Fun, exciting, terrifying all at the same time. But the thought of finality is what split me into pieces, broke me up and squeezed tear after tear from my eyes.

Fran keeps looking at me with raised eyebrows like she's about to ask a question. She's scribbling on her set list, making sure she knows exactly what's happening and when. Her earrings twinkle as she tilts her head, her eyeliner sharp and perfect. Her mouth parts the slightest bit to reveal white teeth, a small smile. "You alright there, Luz?"

God, anytime someone asks me that, it makes me want to cry ten times more. I look down the train compartment, stare at the bathroom and decide whether to make my move. Do I run and hide in there for the duration of the trip, two hours of crying into mouldy train toilet paper? Or do I try to brave it and tell her how I feel? Or just lie through gritted teeth? She's good at reading me. She'll know that I'm not telling the truth.

"Don't tell Nieve this but I feel like absolute shite." There it is. I said it. Fire sinks into my skin, blood rushes up to my head. I squeeze my cheek to make sure I am actually sitting here and that I'm not hallucinating. Lack of sleep had made me seem some weird shit. I need caffeine. Quick.

"We all do." Fran puts her hand on top of mine. "Look, one more show, then we can sleep for as long as we want."

"That's the thing. I don't want this to end."

Fran gets up from her seat and swivels around the table. She sits down beside me, arms opening up and embraces me until I think I see stars. No one has ever hugged me so tightly. My bones seem to audibly shift.

"Nieve's doing a few shows in February, remember? And I'm sure next time Inhaler tours, they'll be on their hands and knees begging for us to come back." She strokes my hair. "Although, Bobby might be telling us to bugger off instead. You two need to sort out this drama. It's driving us all mad."

"He started it." I sound like a three-year-old irritated at my brother.

Fran laughs to herself. "Fucking hell. I bet he did."

—

Arguing. It's happened again. Our last day together has gone to a great start.

First stop of the day—a random restaurant that Ryan dragged us to. Hugs were shared, kind words uttered, teeth glowing under dim lights. I sit down on a wooden chair, peel my jacket from my body and place it on the back. The cool wind is slamming against the windows. I'd forgotten how cold Dublin was. Especially in November. Some Christmas lights adorn the streets and pubs are lively with masses of people. We were stopped a only once on the way there by a group of fans—even our attempt at scuttling through empty alleyways didn't work when five friends with Inhaler-themed cowboy-hats impeded our trail. They were lovely. Photos taken and compliments exchanged. Sadly, Bobby was in a bad mood. When I say a bad mood, I mean a 'I want to kill everyone on this planet and throw myself on a train track' kind of bad mood. He hid away from the fans, behind me and Nieve. His height wasn't particularly helpful in that instant. The blonde, 'Amelie', had said in her thick French accent, "Is that Bobby? I was wondering where he was."

Caught. Found. He thought staying there for a while longer would make them think he wasn't there at all. Amelie was persistent, however, and said softly, "Please could I take a picture with you?"

Her friends all started whispering. Eli was tapping his friend on the shoulder to get him to move. He was frozen. Eli frowned and shook his head.

"Sorry but Rob's being a bit weird today," Josh explained. "I don't think he wants any photos."

Amelie nodded, but the sadness in her eyes was apparent. "That's okay."

I felt bad for the girl. I turned around, looked at Bobby. He was on his phone. Scrolling through Tiktok still crouched down. A quick look at his phone screen showed me that he was watching edits — edits of himself. I had to take a double take to actually believe what I'd just seen. He was staring at clips of himself, smiling, and wouldn't even stand for five seconds next to a girl who'd paid to see his band. He continued to swipe his thumb against the screen, blue eyes lit up by his bright phone.

Then his eyes caught mine and he closed the Tiktok tab. "You didn't see that, did you?" He worriedly spoke so unbelievably quickly, I had to scramble my brain to decipher the words. His smile flipped upside down. Shock written all over him. Blush rising right up to the tips of his ears.

"The hell is wrong with you?" I muttered. Nieve heard. She stepped away. She did not want to be involved in whatever the two of us were plotting.

"What's wrong with me?" He breathed. It's like he was asking himself the question but there was an unyielding harshness to his voice, raspy and agitated. I was sure that this argument was going to be just as bad as the Sid Vicious incident, or worse. Halloween Bobby was on a different wavelength — bordering on depravity.

"You're watching fucking Tiktok edits of yourself. Didn't think you could be that self-centered—"

"Can we not do this now? Please?" Bobby tried to get me to calm down. Amelie and her friends were still only metres away, asking Josh about the tour, about the next album. Fran was listening in. She was smiling to herself. Part of her definitely enjoyed the beef between us.

"Show me your Tiktok."

"No."

"Now."

He sighed. I grabbed his phone, opened Tiktok straight away. His whole 'For You' page was edits of himself. The account he was on was a fake user account. I couldn't believe my eyes.

"What the hell..." Was all I could manage to say.

"I can explain."

"Can you? Go on then."

He didn't say anything. Took his phone back and kicked the brick wall beside him. He shook his phone around like he was going to throw it as well. That wouldn't change anything. I'd seen the worst of it — at least I hoped I'd seen the worst of it.

"Take that photo with those girls and I'll shut up about this." I gave him an option. A way to let him get out of the hole he'd dug for himself.

He was so tall. Sometimes I forgot that. But there, back straight, no longer slouched and his neck craned to meet my eyes. I couldn't hold eye contact. His clenched jaw was making me nervous.

"Fine." He finally concluded the argument with a single word. His index finger then pointed towards me, just beneath my neck. "But you don't tell anyone about this."

I grinned. "I promise."

Stepping over towards Amelie, he smiled widely, put an arm over her shoulder and allowed Fran to take the picture of the group. Moments later he was complaining about his shoes. How they were too small. If Robert Keating had a chance to complain about anything, he'd take it and wouldn't shut up about it. I just knew at that point that we'd be hearing about his shoes for the rest of the day.

Tension is thick in the restaurant. I can almost taste it in my mouth. Rob sits beside me. I don't want to look at him, don't want to hear him talk, don't want to have anything to do with him. He's only the only person I won't miss once this tour is over.

Before anyone can get a word out, Eli taps his fork against his glass. All eyes fall to him. Grace is next to him, she's appeared out of nowhere.

"I just want to say thank you to Nieve, Fran, Lucia, Finn and Matt for being such great openers on our tour. We're so grateful for all of you. This wouldn't have been the same without you."

"Aw, Eli, I might cry a bit, please stop." Nieve shakes her head, holding her napkin to her eyes. "This has been such a dream. We should be thanking you for giving us this opportunity."

"We need to do this again sometime." Ryan pitches in. "Next time we tour, you're coming with us."

"Yeah. That would be grand," Josh exclaims, pulling up his pint of Guinness and crashing it against everyone else's.

Bobby, after all his hours of complaining, has gone back to silent, angry mode. Playing around with his fork, he stares blankly at the menu, fingers tracing the lettering. I watch him as the others melt into conversation. I just want to know what is going through his head. Why is he acting like this? Last week, he was fun to be around and we had a good time. Especially when he's drunk, he loosens up a bit and stops with the facade. He even kissed me once. As a joke. I think.

It was a mess of alcohol. A 'midnight tour bus party'. We were in London and instead of going to the hotel, we ended up spending the night in the lovely green tour bus. We all got so drunk we could hardly speak. I can't remember all that we got up to but when we were sobering up, Bobby dragged me outside of the bus. He gave me his jacket, placed it over my shoulders. We sat down on a random doorstep, hugging each other to keep warm. Two penguins. Two people who usually hated eachothers guts, finding comfort in the warmth that emanated from our bodies. I'd never thought his hair was nice until that moment. How it grazed over my neck. How the curls twisted perfectly and his overgrown mullet framed his face. Or how pretty his eyes were as they shone under streetlights. Dreamy, long eyelashes, sea-like waves. He'd kissed me. His long fingers over my cheeks. His pink lips slotting between mine. I pulled away, shocked. Electricity had sparked between us, my heart was pounding, my body was a torch. Then I ran away from him. I couldn't understand what If just felt. I had never seen him in that way. We never mentioned it again.

Maybe that's what has made him colder. I still haven't acknowledged what happened that night. I keep thinking that he was too drunk to even remember it, but maybe he does. I'm not going to bring it up. Especially now. Especially in this restaurant with everyone sat with us.

"I'm sorry, Lucia."

My heart drops. Bobby is looking at me. Downcast. Entire state is disjointed. His mouth just said that, his brain just formulated those words.

"What?" I must've heard him wrong. Imagining it. This time I must be hallucinating.

"I'm sorry about that night."

Mindreader. He knew what I was thinking about. What my mind has been lingering on. The weather reminds me, his scent reminds me, his hands remind me, his jacket reminds me. That night. London. The night after Troxy. The wind — cut-throat, sharp, steely — the rain, and my tear-stained bedsheets. The taste of his mouth and the dejction locked into his eyes as I left him. Like I'd made a terrible mistake. Like running into my hotel room, alone, was the worst possible option I could've chosen.

I'm wearing the same earrings as I did that night — these ribbon ones that a fan made for me. Bobby had pointed them out — which he shifted between his fingertips and said they suited me. He's eyeing them now, hands curving, resisting any urge to touch them again, to drag us back to that moment.

The waiter takes my order. Bobby's words properly forage the depths of my mind, the veins and the arteries circling around my body, the aching crevices of my heart. I ask for the first thing I see on the menu and a Fanta. I want to stay sober. I want to savour all that will happen beyond this second. Bobby also doesn't get alcohol. Shockingly. The Bobby I know would never turn down a pint of Guinness. But he gets a 7up instead and takes a long, hard gulp of it when the waiter comes back. I'm counting the cracks on the table, how squeaky the chair is, the coffee stain on the ceiling — trying to guess how they managed to get up there. Musicians like to occupy their brains. They don't like to think too much - just do.

"I'm sorry..." I whisper. Finally giving him a reponse after a long pause for thought.

He had been waiting for an answer. He catches it. Twists uneasily in his seat. Wood creaks. Rain patters.

"...It was wrong of me to leave you." The image of his despair still rings through my bones. I swear when my cells divide they keep trying to recreate that look on his face.

"I shouldn't have..." his voice lowers, heat pf his mouth glides by my ear "...kissed you."

I'm trying to drink my Fanta with no reaction. Sugary greatness. Cold, slightly wet fingers. Orangey flavouring. But his voice is so low, trickling, burning, goosebump-inducing. I can't look at him. He's too close to me. It's too hot in the restaurant. Soundcheck is in 20 minutes. I want to run away again. I always want to run away.

Down my Fanta, smooth my skirt, breathe in deeply.

"I liked it." I similarly glide my lips over his ear when he's least expecting it, returning the favour.

He coughs. Chokes a bit on his drink. Then he eats his Pesto pasta with the pinkest neck I've ever seen on a person. Jacket off to reveal long, tattoo-covered arms, and the muscles that have progressively been getting bigger over the months. I join Ryan and Matt's drummer conversation to stop staring. It's weird. Being attracted to him feels wrong. Teenage Lucia would be ashamed. She’d slap some sense into me.

Dinner ends quickly. We're thrusted back into Dublin air before we can even adjust to the complete switch in environment. Running to the venue, through alleyways, shooting splashes of water all over the place, we realise how late we are. I feel better than I did in the morning. That dreaded train ride. Bobbys giving me the silent treatment again. I hate it. I hate it more than when he's being downright horrible to me.

Our set was unbelievable. The best show I've ever done. The crowd was unreal, the size of the place was absurd. We had never sounded so great. Everything went according to plan. We're crying now that we're offstage. We need something to uplift us. Nieve's idea is to party in the back. Which is one of the best parts of the night.

We find a spot just before Inhaler goes on. Screams bleed through the room, adoration written in teenage faces, phones held up to capture the moment. The five lads on stage. One final time. I scream like I'm sixteen all over again, dancing as the first song 'These Are The Days' begins to play. Shouting along, throwing my hands in the air. I don't think I've ever been so happy and fulfilled before.

The setlist is the usual. I didn't expect them to change it. Eli gives a little 'thank you' speech, mentioning us at the end. Then suddenly encore starts and I'm met by a mildly unfamiliar song. The crowd seems just as confused as I am. Bobby is wearing that stupid black vest and I swear his bass has been lowered all the more. The next time they perform, it'll surely be grazing the floor.

Bobby doesn't normally speak to the crowd at shows. It's always Eli. But as they play the intro, he begins to speak, "Hi everyone. Hope you're all having a good time." Commotion, screams, chanting 'Bobby' as if it's a cult gathering, not a concert. His eyes are searching through the crowd. The party in the back turned into moshpits and luckily I got pushed near to the front. His eyes land on mine. I can tell he's looking at when he plays with his earring — like it's a code between us. He keeps playing the same few notes on the bass lazily as he grabs the mic stand. Everyone is silent and listening as he says, "This is 'You Might Get What You Want'.

I recognise it now. I'm sent back to high school. 6 years ago. Practice room at school. Instrument cases strewn all over tha place, broken drumsticks leant against the wall. I'm sat at the piano as Bobby announces, "This is a new song I wrote." He passes me the chords starts singing. My thoughts are quiet. The external world is too loud for me to think. I'm lost in the music. The song is beautiful — lyrics, chords, arrangement, Bobby's voice. That was the day when I wanted to ask to join the band. Then Bobby was horrible to me so I changed my mind. I even asked him what the song was about. He looked at the Jim Morrison poster on the door, hand against his buzzed head as he thought up a response. "A girl," was his final conclusion. I thanked him for his specificity. He told me, quite frustratedly, it was 'none of my business'. Then he was riled up and told me to leave because I was 'playing it all wrong'. One of the last times I ever played with the band. So when I hear the song again — I'm back, sitting at the piano with my school uniform, waiting for cues to play the next chord.

The crowd goes wild at the fact that Bobby is singing alone. This is unusual. The majority of the crowd don't know the song. Reminds me of their first gigs in tiny venues. I sing along, staring at Bobby as he stares back. I wonder which girl the song was actually about. At seventeen, he hung out with every girl in sight - parties, random town meetups, gigs. The way he is looking at me is shattering me down to my core — eyes painted with affection and how he keeps moving his earring. For some reason, I wish the song is about me. Then he sings, 'You Might Get What You Want' whilst pointing right at me. Has anyone else noticed his staring? Nieve and Fran seem clueless. It could all be in my head. His face appears on the screen. I stare. Not ashamed. Appreciating his beauty for as long as we have left. Only tonight. Then nothing. Only the possibility of seeing eachother once again. It won't be set in stone.

I'm a sweaty mess by the end of the show. Last goodbyes, last waves, last shocked stares at the extent of the crowd. I always forget how boiling it gets in the standing area. I'm almost at the point of suffocating. We leave with the crowd, taking a few selfies with fans along the way. I stand in the merch queue. I need something to remember this. Something I can keep and wear and just be brought back to this venue, to this atmosphere. I buy a black tour shirt with the bubbly lettering, slipping it over my tank top. I just know the change in temperature will murder me. The more layers I have on, the better.

We slip through the crowd. Thankfully, it's quieter after my long time in the merch queue. I'd never seen such a long amalgamation of people.

Back at the hotel, I crash straight down onto my bed. Don't even turn on the lights or take off my clothes. I just close my eyes and stretch out my body like a cat. It all happened too quickly. I left the band early to head back, although I heard the rest of them were going to the tour bus to get drunk. I've already had so much fun. I just need to relax. Alone time. Silence. Comfort.

A knock on the door.

I jump up. Still in my Inhaler shirt and lacy white skirt, I feel like taking a shower. But whoever just knocked has impeded any plans. I could just pretend I didn't hear them. I could fall asleep and they'll just walk away.

Another knock. I jolt up this time. It's louder.

This time I reach the door. Sliding the keyhole open, I see him. Of course it's him. Of course. Of all the people that could be here right now. His hair is wet, mussed up. He's holding his jacket under his arm as it's completely drenched. Looking from side to side, he seems to contemplate giving up and leaving me solitary.

I open the door. Let my guard down. I want to talk. Rant. Let out all the garble mixing up and stuffing my skull. He'd listen to me.

"What are you doing here?" I ask. I don't say it rudely. Make sure to keep my tone quiet and curious. The rise of his head to meet my eyes is almost film-like, tracing along my skin, photographic.

"I need to talk to you."

"Come in then."

Close the door behind him. He drops his jacket onto the floor. Slides off those shoes with a groan. They really are too small on him. He can hardly untie the laces without sucking in a quick breath. He looks at himself in the dodgy mirror, trying to fix any flying pieces of hair. His beard is growing a little — little moustache fading in above his mouth.

He sits down on a chair by the table. His lengthy legs reach up to the end of the bed where I'm sat. He picks up a tea bag, sniffs it then puts it back. I'm worried about what he's about to say. He looks like he's gone through hell and back to get here. I've never seen him so dishevelled.

"You were amazing today." I hate the silence. I fill it up. "You all get better every time."

He's been so serious since he came in but the ghost of a smile haunts his lips. They twitch then fall. "So do you."

“Is this about your weird For You page because I’m pretty fucking worried.” I’m trying to forget I saw any of those edits.

“It’s not that.” He shakes his head. He's hugging his chest, arms shivering. My eyes narrow. Each hair on his arm is stood to attention.

"Do you want a blanket?" I'm about to look for something to warm him up when his hand clasps around my wrist. He's stood up. I'm sat down, looking up at him. His thumb traces the inside of my wrist, over a bracelet I have. One that he gave me when I was sixteen. A friendship bracelet he'd brought to one of the rehearsal sessions. I wore it just to get a reaction out of him. This is the first time he’s noticed it.

I want to ask him what he's doing. But then he's sat next to me with his arms around my body and I forget what I was going to say.

"Robert..." I don't normally say his full name. It's the only word that's coming to mind. His wet hair is dripping all over my skirt, his head is against my chest, he won't look up at me.

When I pick up his face, stretch my hands over his cheeks, I find his crystal eyes glossed over. Tears. He's crying. I don't know how to react. He buries his head back into the crook of my neck like he's embarrassed. Then he's breathing heavily. Heaving. Sniffling.

"What is it?" I whisper. I stroke every inch of his hair, the nape of his neck, the thin material of his vest. I trace the tattoos on his arm. Finally landing on the music notation inked into his wrist.

"I don't want you to leave." He holds onto my waist, under my shirt, cold skin. "Stay here. With me. Please."

I wipe the tears from his face. I must look like a beetroot. I'm boiling.

"Really?" I think I'm crying as well. I can't help it. This is the first time I’ve ever seen him so unguarded, so helpless.

"I only sang that song so you'd hear it." He looks up at the ceiling, cogs turning in his brain. "It's not just about a girl. It's about you."

"You're kidding." I have to laugh.

"I'm not. I wrote it during the summer holidays before high school. I had some weird thought that you were going to call me and ask me out. I was always a prick to you so I don't know where that idea was coming from exactly. It's just when you want something so badly—I guess your brain manifests it into reality. Like every time I turned around a corner, I thought you'd magically appear. I thought you'd say that you liked me. But then you went off to Uni, the band got big. And now this. You're in fucking Nieve Ella's band. I thought I was going to throw up when I saw you get out of the train. Everything just came back. I didn't put the song on the album because every time I hear it, I just remember what an idiot I am for not treating you well and for not telling you how I feel. Singing it brought me back to the practice room, to that shitty piano with pedals falling off the hinges. How you made such a disgusting piano sound divine. I don't want to make the same mistake. If I let you go now, I'll be regretting it for the rest of my life."

"So you were looking at me? When you were singing?" I tilt my head, thumb below his eye.

"I might have been." He's not crying anymore. His voice is less rough. He sounds like normal Bobby again.

"I'll stay with you. As long as you want."

"Forever?"

"Bit too long. I can only deal with you for about three hours at a time."

"Then we should make good use of the—" He looks down at his watch. "—Two hours and 43 minutes we have left."

"What do you have planned?" I'm getting closer to him. His nose bumps against mine.

"What do you want to do, Luz?" He's challenging me. Thumb swirling over my lips.

"This." I kiss him. Lips to lips. Two notes in perfect harmony. Everything we've been through culminating into one simple kiss. It's a peck. A tease. I pull away as I feel him yank me closer.

His hands find my ears and it's like that night again. His mouth tastes the same. Sweet. Lukewarm. He still grazes my bottom lip with his teeth when he feels me shift back.

"You're an angel," he says.

At that, I'm kissing him again. This time with more passion. Exploding fireworks. Jumping into the ocean, water floating around you. The ringing in your eyes after an explosion. An earthquake. A tidal wave. So many feelings at once. He's trying to take my shirt off. I let him. Pulled it over my head so quickly I thought he might get my neck off as well. He throws it onto the nearby chair, looking at me, with those glimmering eyes and perfect eyebrows. Beauty spots and smooth skin. I attempt to take off his shirt too, although it's pretty much stuck to his chest. He helps me out, laughing at my stress.

"It's not that hard." He smirks, tugging at the top as I manage to unstick the bottom.

"Fuck off." I roll my eyes.

He pushes me down onto the bedsheets, helping me up until my head is on the pillow. I look over his frame. Long torso, large biceps, chain around his neck. It's too much to deal with. Hooded eyes, smirk on his lips, happy trail leading down to his belt. He knows how he's making me dizzy. He leans down, curling over me, scent hanging, cool skin against mine. I throw my head back. I've never been touched like this. So precise. So gentle. Like I'm his favourite bass guitar. I'd never noticed how long his fingers were until they were splayed over my bra, until the other hand was sliding up my thigh.

He kisses my neck, my shoulders, my collarbones, the valley between my breasts, tongue flat, teeth sharp. I hold onto his hair, then onto his toned shoulders. This morning, I would never have expected that this would happen. That the boy I loathed was admiring me and tasting me with unrelenting adoration. Now, the thought of leaving him makes me sick to my stomach. I pull him a little closer, kiss him a little harder and remember just how red teenage Bobby's face was after he'd sang that song to me. How defensive he was when I asked him about it. Now it all makes sense.

I won't ever leave him again.

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phantom-of-the-memes · 5 months

Text

It’s getting so scary in Dublin. Every other day there’s an attack. Last night there was a MACHETE attack caught on camera.

The perpetrators are all white Irish men, who think they own the city, of course. When they’re the ones actively making this city worse.

All there is to stay safe is to avoid going out late at night if possible. If you have to, walk with at least one other person.

Self defence tips are great and you can find loads of videos online. But it’s kind of hard to rely on them when you’re not trained directly by a professional. Not everyone can afford actual classes.

As well as that, a lot of the tips require you to have some form of strength training anyways to be able to put enough force into it. Which again, not everyone can go to the gym/ work out.

Also for people like me whose physical disability makes them much weaker than the average person. Like even with all the tips and tricks, realistically I won’t have the strength to fight someone off.

So weapon carrying can be the only thing to make you feel safe. I know this as a visibly trans and queer person, with other trans friends who do the same. Especially trans women. I swear if you need self defence tips go to them, because the unfortunate reality is they have to be ready at any moment for attacks. As a trans man it’s so much easier for me to walk the streets than them.

The issue with this however is that basically all weapon carrying is illegal in Ireland. Which I agree with, if it also came with preventing fascist white men from attacking people of colour/ immigrants/ women/ queer people/ trans people. If they’re attacking us with weapons, why can’t we attack back with weapons?

This is just what me and my friends personally do, so don’t necessarily take advice from me. But some of us carrying Swiss Army knives because they’re legal to buy. They’re really not designed for self defence, but it’s what we have!

I also have a fake switch blade that’s a “comb”. It’s pretty shitty as a comb. But yeah like it’s proper metal and heavy in your hand. And it flips up like an actual switch blade when you press a button. The comb is long, rectangular, and metal. It wouldn’t function as a weapon, but the point is it looks like one. Especially at night or if you just show it without flipping it up. You can get them on amazon, and they’re not too expensive.

The issue with carrying these things is that if you defend yourself it can be argued in court that you were a perpetrator looking to attack your attacker. But honestly if it means the difference between life and death, it might be worth it.

Feel free to add on with corrections or tips!

#ireland #irish #lgbt #trans #queer #self defense #Dublin #Dublin riots

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denimbex1986 · 2 months

Text

'In the autumn of 2021, Christopher Nolan knew just where to find Cillian Murphy. The director flew to Ireland with a document in his hand luggage, Hollywood’s equivalent of the nuclear football. It was a script for his top-secret new film, printed, apparently, on red paper. “Which is supposedly photocopy-proof,” Murphy explained. He wasn’t surprised by the in-person visit. The two had worked together on five previous films, and every Nolan script, Murphy said, had been dropped off by Nolan or one of his family members. “So, like, it’s been his mum who’s delivered the script to me before. Or his brother; he’ll go away and come back in three hours. Part of it has to do with keeping the story secret before it goes out. But part of it has to do with tradition. They’ve always done it this way, so why stop now? It does add a ritual to it, which I really appreciate. It suits me.”

Murphy met Nolan at his Dublin hotel room – and Nolan left him to read. He read and read and read. All 197 pages; the rarest kind of script, written in the first-person point of view of the film’s protagonist, J Robert Oppenheimer. All action, all incidence, swirling around this character – a big-brained, psychologically complex giant of world history. Murphy had never played a lead in a Nolan film before, but had committed to this role as soon as Nolan told him about it, before he’d even seen a page of the script. “He’d already called me and said he wanted me to play the part. And I had said yes, because I always say yes to him.” The afternoon ran out. “And he doesn’t have a phone or anything,” Murphy said. “But he knew instinctively when to come back.” Nolan in command of time, as ever. They spent the rest of the evening together, and then Murphy took the DART train home, and got to work.

The result was one of the most watched and most acclaimed films of 2023 – a nearly billion-dollar blockbuster about a tormented genius (and, yes, the father of the atomic bomb). The performance affirmed for many what has been quietly known for some time: that Cillian Murphy is, or at least was, one of the most underrated actors in all of Hollywood. In small potent roles in those other Nolan movies. As a shapeshifting bit player and lead in dozens of films and plays over the past three decades. And, of course, across 10 years and six seasons of Peaky Blinders – the hit series that made him truly known globally. “Some years ago,” Christopher Nolan said, “I made what was probably a mistake in some moment of drunken sincerity of telling him he’s the best actor of his generation. And so now he gets to show that to the rest of the world so everybody can realise that.”

Part of the reason that Murphy still felt like something of a secret until recently is that he lives, breathes and resides at a remove from the noise. This is by design. In 2015, Murphy returned home to Ireland from London, already some distance from Hollywood proper, to a quiet hamlet on the Irish Sea – not exactly off the grid, but one ring further outside the blast radius of his industry.

One evening this winter, I took the DART down the coast from Dublin city centre to Monkstown to have dinner with Murphy. We met at a restaurant where, he told me, “I have a usual table, would you believe it?” He sat there comfortably for most of the night, bouncing, leaning forwards, his floppy rocker-dad hair swept casually across his forehead, his famously light eyes drawing in passersby like two pockets of quicksand.

Murphy and his wife of 20 years, artist Yvonne McGuinness, live by the sea with their two teenage sons. In Ireland, the abundance of their creative existence is all around them. The art galleries all seem to be filled with work by his family members. The music on the radio is curated by friends – or Murphy himself. There are occasional pints with his elder Irish actor idols, Brendan Gleeson and Stephen Rea.

Life here for Murphy is filled with, well, life. His boys are approaching exit velocity. There are exams. Chores. Errands. He and his youngest were flying out in the morning to attend a football match in Liverpool. “I would’ve taken you elsewhere for some Guinness,” Murphy said, “except I have to drive to drop my boy off at a party tonight.” The brand of busyness felt quite far from the bubbles that typically cocoon the leading men in the film industry.

“I have a couple of friends who are actors, but a majority of them are not,” Murphy said. “The majority of my buddies are not in the business. I also love not working. And I think for me a lot of research as an actor is just fucking living, and, you know, having a normal life doing regular things and just being able to observe, and be, in that sort of lovely flow of humanity. If you can’t do that because you’re going from film festival to movie set to promotions… I mean that’s The Bubble. I’m not saying that makes you any better or less as an actor, but it’s just a world that I couldn’t exist in. I find it would be very limiting on what you can experience as a human being, you know?”

Cillian Murphy, at least on that weekend last winter, seemed to me to have something so deeply figured out that I spent the month after our time together unable to shake the experience of being in the presence of someone living so much the way that so many other actors – so many artists, so many people – claim to want to live. Away from it all, but in highest demand. Delivering Oscar-worthy performances while also seeming convincingly content to disappear for a long while, at any point, no questions. The stabilising forces at home seemed to work as an anchor point from which Murphy could go off and wander as an artist. “He has this rare blend of humility with this supercharge of creativity,” Emily Blunt said. “He’s just a lovely, sane person. He’s so, so sane. And yet he’s got such wildness in him in the parts that he’s able to play.”

He was the first of his friends to have kids, and thus will be the first with an empty nest. More time for films. (Maybe.) More time for music. (Certainly.) More time to go on runs at night, when the lights streaking by make him feel like he’s going faster. Even more time for sleep: “I sleep a lot. I do 10-hour sleeps.” He seemed immune to the need to be in the mix – of fame, of fashion, of free dinners, the titillating offerings of a scene. A lot of actors age out of that compulsion, but the thing is, Murphy’s not old. Forty-seven. At the height of his powers, entering his prime. Not exiting the industry, but just floating lightly beside it until called upon, which he often is, and will be more now than ever.

He tries to do one movie a year, preferably not in the summer, when he likes to spend most of his time on the west coast of Ireland, doing nothing much but finding new music for his radio programme on BBC Radio 6 Music or walking his black Lab, Scout. He is perfectly happy to be “unemployed” while he waits for the right new film to come his way. “There could’ve been a situation when Chris called me up that I was doing something else,” he said. “And that would’ve been the worst of all scenarios.”

In this way, Murphy seems to adhere to his version of Michael Pollan’s adage about healthy eating: “Make movies. Not too many. Mostly with Christopher Nolan.” Imagine the discipline, the confidence, the peace of mind, to not worry about missing an opportunity, a lunch, a party, a fork in the road back in one of the frothier Hollywood hubs, but rather to stroll along emerald shores, as the days stretch out until 10pm, knowing that they know you – and that, ultimately, they know where to find you.

In Monkstown. Probably at his table. Looking present. Clear-eyed. Like any local, but with more moisture in his skin. At dinner, he asked me just once not to put something in the piece: a nuanced take he shared on a local establishment. Nothing so dangerous as an unwelcome opinion in a small town. No truer sign of someone “just fucking living” there. The dream.

Nolan had first seen Murphy in 2003, in a promotional image for 28 Days Later that had run in the San Francisco Chronicle. “I was looking to cast Batman, looking for some actors to screen test, and I was just very struck by his eyes, his appearance, everything about him – wanted to find out more,” Nolan told me. “When I met him, he didn’t strike me as necessarily right for Batman. But there was just a vibe – there are people you meet in your life who you just want to stay connected with, work with; you try to find ways to create together.” So Nolan put him on camera just to see what happened. “He first performed as Bruce Wayne, and I saw the crew stop and pay attention in a way that I had never seen before, and really have never seen since. And it was this electricity just coming off the guy, it was an incredible energy. And so I called some executives, and they were impressed enough with him that they let me cast him as Scarecrow. Those Batman villains at the time had only ever been played by huge stars – Jack Nicholson, Arnold Schwarzenegger. So it’s just a testament to his raw talent.”

Batman Begins was the first of his smaller roles in Nolan’s three Batman movies, Inception, and Dunkirk. “I hope he won’t mind me saying, but when I first worked with him, he was all pure instinct, and the technical side of acting wasn’t something that had registered as important with him. We would literally put a mark down and he would just walk right over it,” Nolan said, laughing. But over two decades, “as I saw him develop his technical facility, it did not in any way distract or diminish the instinctive nature of his performance.”

For the lead in Oppenheimer, Murphy prepared at home for six months, focusing first on the voice and the silhouette (in other words, shedding weight to reflect the skin and bones of a world-renowned physicist who subsisted primarily on martinis and cigarettes during his years developing the bomb). On set, as the days of filming wore on in the New Mexico desert, the significance of what Murphy was up to started to spread across the set among the cast and crew “like a rumour,” Nolan said. “I remember the same thing with Heath Ledger on The Dark Knight.”

Blunt, who plays Oppenheimer’s beleaguered wife, Kitty, first got to know Murphy well on A Quiet Place Part II. “Cillian’s really kidnapping to be in a scene with. He pulls you into this vibrational vortex,” she told me. “He loves a party. But when he’s working, he’s intensely focused, and won’t socialise very much at all. Certainly not on Oppenheimer; I mean, he didn’t have anything left in the tank to say one word to someone at the end of the day.”

Matt Damon told me that when they were shooting out in the middle of New Mexico, he and Blunt and the rest of the cast would go down and eat at this one little café. “It was like a mess tent,” he said. “And Cillian was invited every night, but never made it once.”

Murphy was back in his room, preserving his energy, prepping for the next day, minding the Oppenheimer silhouette.

“OK, he’s losing weight, he can’t eat at night, you know he’s miserable,” Damon said. “But you know he’s doing what’s best for the movie that you all want to be as good as possible, and so you’re cheering him on. But at dinner you’re sitting there and you’re all shaking your heads, going, ‘Man, this is brutal.’

“The one thing that he would allow himself, his one luxury, is that he would take a bath at night. I mean he would allow himself literally a few almonds or something. And then sit in his bath with his script and just work. By himself, every night.”

The performance is so big, but so much of it is invisible to the audience, in the concentrated intensity of the interpretation. The nucleus towards which so many elements subtly draw us, closer to his character. Just one example: if it were period-accurate, Murphy said, everyone would be smoking and wearing hats, but he’s the only one doing either: “It’s emphatic, but subliminally so.” The author Kai Bird, who co-wrote American Prometheus, the monumental biography of Oppenheimer on which the film is based, spent a day at the Los Alamos set, watching Murphy play the scene where Oppenheimer talks to his team of scientists about the bomb while someone drops marbles into a fishbowl and a brandy glass. “At one point during a break, he approached wearing his baggy brown suit and turquoise belt, and I raised my arms and shouted, ‘Dr Oppenheimer, Dr Oppenheimer, I’ve been waiting decades to meet you!’ ” Bird said. “He especially captured the voice and Oppie’s intensity.” (At one point during our conversation, Bird asked me to confirm: “Those are his blue eyes, right? Or is he wearing lenses?”)

The film was released on Barbenheimer weekend, just after the SAG-AFTRA strike began, and despite enjoying some lighter time with Blunt, Damon and the cast, Murphy was relieved to cut short the promotion of the film. “I think it’s a broken model,” he said of red carpet interviews and junkets. Outdated and a drag for actors. “The model is – everybody is so bored.” Look what happened when they went on strike, he said. It all stopped. But the fact that the film was good, and Barbie was good, two at the same time, with people going crazy – it just shows you don’t need it. “Same was the case with Peaky Blinders. The first three seasons, there was no advertising, a tiny show on BBC Two. It just caught fire because people talked to each other about it.”

Murphy’s reticence in many interviews is palpable. “It’s like Joanne Woodward said,” he told me. “ ‘Acting is like sex – do it, don’t talk about it.’ ” Although I wouldn’t characterise his disposition on, say, late-night TV as gruff, he’s basically just incapable of going full phoney. He is, in other words, reacting the same way you might to being asked the same question for the hundredth time in a week. I’m curious to watch him suffer through his first Oscar campaign, where answering the same questions about his performance is essentially the point, for several months.

“People always used to say to me, ‘He has reservations’ or ‘He’s a difficult interviewee,’ ” Murphy said. “Not really! I love talking about work, about art. What I struggle with, and find unnecessary and unhelpful about what I want to do, is: ‘Tell me about yourself…’ ”

Nonetheless: He grew up in Cork. Went to a Catholic school better suited for a certain kind of athletic boy than an artistic soul. “I always fucking hated team sports. I like watching them. But I was terrible at them,” he said. That classic system for schooling was not good for him, “emotionally and psychologically,” he said. “But at least it gave me something to push against.”

Murphy played in a successful band with his brother, half-heartedly entered the local university as a law student. While at school in Cork, he stumbled into a performance of A Clockwork Orange and fell in with the stage scene there. He hadn’t trained in any way, but he got the first role he ever auditioned for, in Enda Walsh’s Disco Pigs, which travelled around the UK, Europe and Canada, and transformed his life. “It all happened to me in one month, in August ’96: we got offered a record deal, I failed my law exams, I got the part in Disco Pigs, and I met my wife,” he said. “I now look back and go, Oh, shit, I didn’t know then how important all these things were – the sort of domino effect that they would have on my life.” I asked Murphy, who has said in the past that he identifies as an atheist, if such a confluence ever made him wonder if there was indeed a higher power organising all of this. “Ohhh,” he said. “I love the chaos and the randomness. I love the beauty of the unexpected.”

That winter weekend, while walking around Dublin on a bit of a Joycean ramble, we passed a bookshop. “This was my favourite bookshop when I first moved up to Dublin. I didn’t have any money and I was living with my mother-in-law. And I would come in here and get a coffee for 50p, but then they would, like, refill it, you know? So, I’d sit in there all day and just read plays and then put them back on the shelves, and then go home and my mother-in-law would feed me dinner,” he said. “Just to educate myself. To catch up. ’Cause I didn’t go to drama school, so I’d read all the plays I should’ve read if I went to drama school. I’d ask all these writers and directors to tell me all the plays that I must read.”

“Theatre is the key to Cillian,” director Danny Boyle told me. “Weirdly, given that he is such an extraordinary film actor.” It’s the ability, from the theatre, to travel the great distance of an extreme character arc. “Everybody talks about his dreamy Paul Newman eyes. And all that’s to his advantage, of course, because behind is this capacity, this reach that he has into volcanic energy.” (The other key to Cillian, Boyle said, is that he’s a bloody Irishman: “He’s one of the great, great exports, and the homeland clearly nourishes him constantly.”) Boyle cast Murphy in 2002’s 28 Days Later, the first film of Murphy’s that made him known. It led, in its way, to the Nolan partnership, as well to working with Boyle again on 2007’s Sunshine. “When we did 28 Days Later, he was really just starting off,” Boyle said. “By the time he came back for Sunshine, he was a seriously accomplished actor.”

In the noughties, Murphy was working frequently. Some of the movies were better than others. “Many of my films I haven’t seen,” he said. “I know that Johnny Depp would always say that, but it’s actually true. Generally the ones I haven’t seen are the ones I hear are not good.”

I asked him if he’d seen Oppenheimer.

“Yes, I’ve seen Oppenheimer…” he said, rolling his eyes.

When Nolan finished the film, Murphy, his wife and his younger son flew to Los Angeles to watch it for the first time in Nolan’s private screening room. “It’s pretty nice…” Murphy said, trying to balance obvious enthusiasm with not giving too much away. “You know, he shows film prints there. The sound is extraordinary.” How many seats? “Uh, I’d say maybe 50?” So, Murphy did see this film of his – in perhaps the most dialled-in home cinema known to man.

In the summer of 2005, just a couple of months after Batman Begins came out, Murphy was back in cinemas with Wes Craven’s Red Eye. It was villain season. And the two roles, in close quarters, seemed to coalesce around a feeling: that guy creeps me out. When casually canvassing people about what they think of when they think of Murphy, I was shocked by the imprint that Red Eye had on an American of a certain age.

“Oh, I know, it’s crazy!” Murphy said. “I think it’s the duality of it. It’s why I wanted to play it. That two thing. The nice guy and the bad guy in one. The only reason it appealed to me is you could do that –” he snapped his fingers “– that turn, you know?”

“They say the nicest people sometimes make the best villains,” Rachel McAdams said, recalling her time with Murphy on the cramped aeroplane set of Red Eye. “We’d listen to music and gab away while doing the crossword puzzle, which he brought every day and would graciously let me chime in on... I think the number one question I got about Cillian way back then was whether or not he wore contact lenses.”

“I love Rachel McAdams and we had fun making it,” Murphy said. “But I don’t think it’s a good movie. It’s a good B movie.”

During that same stretch, Murphy starred in Ken Loach’s The Wind That Shakes the Barley, one of the best films he’s made, and one that Murphy is uniquely proud of. It’s a period epic that tells the story of a crew of Irish friends who find themselves fighting first the British, in the Irish War of Independence, and then one another in the Irish Civil War. The film is lush, harrowing, relentless and transporting. Murphy has a face that sits cosily at home in any decade of the 20th century. He is at his most vital in the ’20s, the ’30s, the ’40s – and that’s one of the factors that works so convincingly in Oppenheimer. Matt Damon, for better or worse, looks like Matt Damon. Emily Blunt, again for better or worse, looks like Emily Blunt. Whereas Cillian Murphy looks like a scientist from 1945.

Murphy and his filmmakers have run this play several ways in recent years. In Anthropoid (2016), as a Czechoslovakian resistance fighter in Nazi-occupied Prague. In Free Fire (2016), as an IRA member caught up in an arms deal gone horribly wrong. In Dunkirk (2017), as a British “shivering soldier” suffering from PTSD. And, of course, in Peaky Blinders (2013–2022), as a First World War hero turned gangster in 1920s Birmingham. With that face, he can play every side of the die of the embroiled conflicts of pre- and post-war Europe. “Cillian’s always laughing about how he’s perpetually playing people who are traumatised,” Blunt said. “There must be something about his face that sort of entices those kinds of offers.”

In the first frame of Anthropoid that Murphy appears in, a moonbeam strikes his cheekbone like it’s a plane of alabaster, and the question immediately pops to mind: are you a Nazi or the resistance? Are you the good guy or the bad guy – or both, that “two thing”? The stable and the wild. The duality. The pull within.

In Dublin, we found ourselves walking through busy streets, beneath abundant winter sunshine and caustic seagulls. We were approached by fans at a shocking clip – but also by sisters of friends.

“I’m not a stalker…” one said, politely.

“Oh, hi, Oona!”

I asked him if he’d sensed that his life had palpably changed in any way since last summer, given that a billion pounds’ worth of people saw him in practically every frame of one of the biggest films of all time. “To me, it always seems to go in waves,” he said. “When Peaky was at its kind of apex, you’d feel a different energy around, walking around, a little bit like I do now – but then it settles down again. It kind of comes in waves. And then you don’t have something in the cinema for ages, and people forget about it. So. It seems to be like that, and you sort of ride that, and then things go back to normal.”

With all due respect to the Peaky hive, this film did seem to go especially wide.

“Yes,” he said, laughing. “But you’d be surprised. Peaky is still the thing I get asked most about in the world.”

As if on cue, Murphy was approached by a fan on the street, who asked for a photo.

“Oh, I don’t do photos,” he said to the disappointed lad, who nonetheless got 20 seconds of Murphy’s time to chat.

“Once I started doing that,” he said, “it changed my life. I just think it’s better to say hello, and have a little conversation. I tell that to a lot of people, you know, actor friends of mine, and they’re just like, I feel so bad. But you don’t need a photo record of everywhere you’ve been in a day.”

“There is a culty, effervescent kind of wonder about Cillian,” said Blunt. “I think for someone as interior as he is, this level of kinetic fame is, like, horrifying for him. If anyone is not built for fame, it’s Cillian.”

To make it up to that fan, I asked Murphy what the status is of a potential Peaky Blinders film. “There is no status, as of now,” he says. “So I have no update. But I’ve always said I’m open to it if there’s more story. I do love how the show ended. And I love the ambiguity of it. And I’m really proud of what we did. But I’m always open to a good script.”

We passed some young people in dark dresses and heels, absolutely the worse for wear. “Look at these guys, out from the night before,” Murphy said, smiling. I asked him if he had his days of partying in Dublin, in London. “I mean, I did, but it was with my friends. I was never part of any scene – or went to, like, acting clubs. I would never go to the premiere... The idea of going to a premiere that isn’t your own, seems to me like…”

We passed Trinity College, an occasion to discuss the breakout Irish series Normal People and its breakout Irish star Paul Mescal. “He is the real deal. He is like a true movie star. They don’t come along that often. But,” Murphy said, serving the lightest and rarest touch of pride and swagger, “luckily, they seem mostly to come from Ireland.

“It’s a good time,” he added, “to be an Irish actor, it seems.”

We stopped in at the Kerlin Gallery to see the show of his sister-in-law, Ailbhe Ní Bhriain. She and Murphy’s wife were friends in graduate school in London, and Murphy’s brother met her while visiting Cillian there. This is his scene. He walked around admiring the pieces, which he’d heard about at family functions but not yet seen in person.

“Now this work immediately appeals to me,” he said, “because you can feel it’s pushing at big, big themes, and to me, that’s what I’ve always loved. I don’t really go for pure entertainment. I love when it makes you feel a little bit fucked up. Not in a horror-genre way, but in a psychological, existential way. That’s what I love in all the work that I enjoy and the work that I try to make.”

Murphy executive-produced the last three seasons of Peaky Blinders, but had been looking for a first film to produce. He secured the rights to Claire Keegan’s Small Things Like These, a Booker Prize finalist, and one night on the set of Oppenheimer, while they were just sitting there in the desert, Damon told him about Damon and Ben Affleck’s then unannounced new company, Artists Equity, whose novel financial model is based on profit sharing with the crew. Murphy sent them the book and Artists Equity ultimately financed the film. “Normally, you’re trying to put together all these different entities, and then you have all these points of view on the edit,” Murphy said. “This was just those guys.”

Small Things Like These centres on an average man about Murphy’s age in a small town in County Wexford, who, one Christmas, stumbles upon a horrifying secret in the local convent – the Magdalene Laundries, which from the 18th century to the 1990s held thousands of girls and women prisoner in Church workhouses. I asked Murphy if, with his new power, it was important to him to tell Irish stories. Not especially, he said. The only criterion was: what’s the best story for right now? “Still,” he said, “it’s a good time to be looking at that story, because we have distance from what happened with the Church and everything. But yet I don’t think we’ve still fully addressed it. So, if you can make something that’s entertaining and moving, but also asks a few questions about who we are as a nation, and who we were as a nation, and how far we’ve come – then that’s great. But, again, they should happen after you’ve gone and had a reasonably entertaining evening at the cinema.”

Murphy joked at one point that he spent the actors’ strike at home “eating cheese,” but what he really did was spend the strike editing Small Things and overseeing “all the lovely stuff that we actors never get a look in on.” (His production company, Big Things Films, would’ve been called Small Things Films, he said, except that Small Things suggests “a lack of ambition, perhaps.”) Small Things will premiere at the Berlin International Film Festival this month.

One film a year, control, restraint, a hand firmly on the wheel.

Murphy has a natural propensity to an analogue lifestyle that works well with Nolan, who doesn’t use email or have a smartphone. “I aspire to that life,” Murphy said. “I was just clearing stuff off my phone, but have to keep the apps for music and music discovery.

“I still have all my CDs and DVDs and Blu-Rays,” he went on. “I cannot get rid of them. I did get rid of my VHS, though. I just left them on the street because nobody wanted them. I went and brought them to a library and was like, Look at this pretentious collection of art films! and they were like, No thanks, man…”

I asked him if he saw the viral TikTok of Nolan showing a zoomer how best to project Oppenheimer. He started laughing. “My son showed me that. A clash of cultures.”

Working with Nolan can feel like a much-desired retrenchment from modern life. “When I’m on a Chris set, it does feel a little bit like a private, intimate laboratory,” Murphy said. “Even though he works at a tremendous pace, there’s always room for curiosity and finding things out, and that’s what making art should be about, you know? There’s no phones – but also no announcement: everybody just knows. And there’s no chairs. Because he doesn’t sit down. Sometimes a film set can be like a picnic. Everyone’s got their chairs and their snacks and everyone’s texting and showing each other fucking, you know, emojis or whatever, memes – which I do know,” he said, referring obliquely to the meme of Cillian Murphy not knowing what a meme is. “But why?”

Do you know what Nolan is doing next? I asked him.

“Nooo. But, like, I didn’t know that he was writing Oppenheimer. We don’t stay in touch that way.”

It’s like Mission: Impossible. Do the hard thing together, then sever communication. “Chris is the smartest person I’ve ever met,” added Murphy. “Not just the director stuff, but everything else.”

Nolan had told me that he’d wanted to give Murphy the role that he would be dogged by forever – that he would spend the rest of his career trying to crawl out from under. “And,” he said, “I think I’ve done it.”

When I put it to Murphy, he took a beat: “There’s a big, big body of work that I think people that know know.” I think it was his modest way of saying: I’ve got a few others too.

Murphy told me he’d heard that “one of the Sydneys” – Lumet or Pollack – once said that it takes 30 years to make an actor. He believed that. “I’m 27 years,” he said. “So I’m close.”

After Nolan hand-delivered the Oppenheimer script to Murphy and left him to read in that Dublin hotel room, he made his way to the Hugh Lane Gallery, and, more specifically, to the Francis Bacon studio there, a perfect preservation of the impossibly messy London studio where the Irish-born painter had lived and worked for much of his life. Murphy and Nolan share a love of Bacon – a towering figure of the 20th century, born in its first decade, dead in its last. Besides the reassembled studio, the museum has several paintings by Bacon – some finished, some unfinished. In all instances, though, the portraits of people – ghoulishly distorted figures – are rendered unsparingly. Never perfect representations. Never straight impressions. But rather an artist’s interpretation of another being, reconfigured into a stark image. You can see what might appeal to both a director of a biopic and his leading man.

That winter weekend, I made the same journey across the River Liffey that Nolan did, past a poster for Oppenheimer in a Tower Records window, past the Garden of Remembrance (for all who gave their lives for Irish freedom), and met Murphy at the museum. He had on a black puffer jacket, a black hoodie, and a pair of black Ray-Bans with that starburst that movie-star lenses do when subjected to a flash on a red carpet. He removed them inside and took the well-worn path back to the Bacons. “Most people don’t know about this place,” he said. “It’s kind of like a little secret. But I just come here when I have time to spare in town.”

We looked at Bacons. Bacons everywhere. We talked about the Bacon biography that came out in 2021. “I love the work,” Murphy said, “but just the life. That kind of unique relentlessness that he had as an artist.” I asked if he read actor biographies. “When I was starting out,” he said. “I always worry, though, reading them – because I can’t remember what I did last week... I often wonder about the self-mythologising.”

We peered in on the studio itself, every cigarette butt and crate of champagne archived and put in its place. “Chaos for me breeds images,” Bacon had said.

Do you have a room in your house that looks like this? I asked.

Murphy laughed. “No, I do have a man room, a man cave. But it’s incredibly tidy.”

In another room of the museum, we sat before a looped TV special on Bacon from 1985, an hour-long interview with presenter Melvyn Bragg, where the great painter spits off charisma and wisdom in pithy responses to the biggest questions an artist can be asked, all while wearing a perfect black leather jacket. We sat there quietly together, until Murphy interjected: “It’s kind of mesmerising, isn’t it?”

Before I’d arrived in Dublin, Nolan had told me that Murphy’s career tends to make sense if you think of him more as an artist than an actor – as you would a painter or a musician. That his filmography isn’t a line going up or down so much as filled with distinct periods of development. It helps explain the approach to the work. How patient and restrained. How clear the point of view. An act of accretion rather than explosiveness and volatility. So unshaken by the things that rock the boat for so many actors. It’s the clarity. The authenticity. The answer to the question: when you’re tested again and again, what is there? Who is there? Here is a man – a 47-year-old who could play 27 with the right light and 67 with the right make-up – who is probably going to win the Oscar for best actor, but whose mind couldn’t be farther from the chatter of his industry and the noise, the noise. At one point, I asked him if he feels like he’s uniquely well-positioned to play roles of middle age – if Oppenheimer feels like the first film of what could be the strongest stretch of his career.

“I really don’t know,” he said. “I really haven’t thought about it.”

Here, then, was another thing Murphy had seemingly figured out – consciously or not. Almost all religions, coaches, gurus, and enlightened friends tend to offer the same advice: don’t lose yourself in the past, don’t fixate on the future, but focus six inches in front of your nose, and on the Now that you can control. “I really am kind of like, pathologically unsentimental about things,” Murphy said. “I just move forward very quickly.” The past wasn’t a problem because he couldn’t remember it – or wouldn’t romanticise it. The future wasn’t a concern because he didn’t like to plan too far out. And so: the one film on the horizon; the one song on the radio or the one painting on the wall. He was, in this way, an authentic presentist. Or, less abstractly, just a good listener, a good seer, a good scene partner, a good person to have dinner with.

There, in the museum, we sat and we sat, watching the Bacon interview as though there was nowhere else to be (because there really wasn’t) and nothing else to think about (what more was there than how an artist’s life might be lived?).

Murphy broke the silence. “Did you ever hear this theory that [Brian] Eno has? About the farmers and the cowboys? There’s two types of artist – there’s the farmers and the cowboys. The farmers, like in his studio for example,” he said, gesturing to Bacon on the screen. “He’s mostly kind of doing the same thing, refining and refining and refining the same thing. And the cowboys, who go off, they’re like prospectors, that go off and do mad work. Eno puts himself in the second bracket, ’cause he’s such an innovator, with the music and the production and all of that. Or somebody like Bowie, constantly reinventing. Neither one is better, it’s just a different way of making work.”

Which do you fall into? I asked.

“Definitely the cowboy, I think. But there are actors that just play similar parts, versions of themselves all the time. Again, I don’t think either one is better.”

Do you think that sometimes an actor falls into the other category by accident, when their public persona intersects with – or eclipses – the work? I asked.

“Perhaps. Yeah. I’m sure that’s the case. Yeah.”

He sat back and sank into the film again, giggling at some of the things that Bacon said and did. “There’s a few things he says that I always think apply to our work,” he said. “ ‘The job of the artist is always to deepen the mystery.’ ” Provocative movies. Provocative performances. No easy answers – but perhaps a few new questions.

Don’t give it all away. Don’t even give most of it away. Retrench. Be clear. With yourself, but not necessarily with others. Let the fame wave pass. Live by the sea.

He said it again: “Deepen the mystery. That’s it, isn’t it?”'

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ladykinrannoch · 10 months

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Personal Reading #3

CG writes in from Dublin Ireland. CG moved jobs just more than a year ago and still feels unsettled in the new role. CG is not sure how long to stay, whether to go somewhere else or go back to the previous job. CG is looking for career insights through a celtic cross.

Celtic Cross - Luna Sol Tarot

Situation

The Emperor - dear CG you this is a strong situation card, because this is about power and authority and order. I think you are in the right job, you will see why with the rest of the spread where I try to interpret why you are feeling unsettled.

Challenge crossing the situation

The Hermit Rx - you are feeling unsupported and have maybe taken on a challenging role that you are struggling with I can see this because in the immediate past I have Nine of Wands. But this Hermit card also means in reverse that you are avoiding asking for help. Are you perhaps being a bit stubborn about doing it on your own in order to prove yourself? Take some time alone to think about this.

Immediate past

Nine of Wands - feeling battered and bruised and an injured warrior, so I can see that the reason you feel unsettled is that you are battle worn, everything seems to have been a struggle and you are feeling like you can't go on. This is also the mental stress card, but the good news is this energy is moving into the past.

Focus right now

Seven of Disks/Pentacles - you need to focus on your talents and see yourself as an asset to this company, but in this spread I am also getting the feeling that I need to tell you, it is okay to not be great at everything, and its okay to ask for support or development on the areas that are not your strength. Take stock and see where you need to perhaps go on a course/training, or ask for some supportive expertise and advice.

Underlying the situation

4 cups - I sense some health struggles here, it could be stress related, that could also be adding to you feeling unsettled. This image on this card makes me think that perhaps you need to give yourself permission to take a sick day and just have a duvet day to rest and recover. Everything seems better when you are not over tired and stressed. So I think what I am saying is 4 cups together with Hermit RX is that you need to gain perspective on the last year and ask yourself if the pressures have been from the job or your own pressure on yourself to perform? Are you holding yourself to unrealistic expectations?

What happens next

4 wands - everything gets better with a new perspective, this is the happy home and putting down roots card, so I think that you are in the right place and the right job, so this is not telling me you must go back to your old job.

Broader context

Queen of Swords - this is an independent woman, swords are also thoughts, anything of the mind. Either this is you and its saying that much of what you have experienced is the way you have thought processed it. But if it is not you, there could be a powerful woman, with great ideas who might move into your orbit and become a mentor, the reason I say this is the card in others views.

Others views

2 cups - this is an offer of support, possibly from the Queen of Swords, it is also a partnership, friendship or even a mentor relationship in a work context.

Hopes and Fears

3 Wands RX - this card is telling me that you fear that the current job has not quite fulfilled your expectations and although you hope it gets better you are not sure how to get there. So that ties nicely in with your original questions. Thought is powerful and it does shape our experience. Again I get the feeling you should give yourself a break, cut some slack, stop holding yourself to unreasonably high expectations.

Action/Outcome

4 swords RX - this card reinforces the energy of the previous card and the 4 cups. Take some time out to gain new perspective, get rest. It is about finding peace and rethinking your work arrangements. In this case I think it is rethinking how you approach this job and how much self-pressure you are putting on yourself.

Underlying energy to the reading

Knight of Disks/Pentacles - this is the slow and steady knight. And it is so funny, because this card is about setting realistics goals It's also about getting through the boring day to day achievement of small milestones and slow progress to a big achievement. This card can also mean a promotion or increase.

So dear CJ, I think you are right to give this job another year, you are not yet at your goal, you will settle and in the future there could be a promotion or increase. I definitely don't get leaving energy especially because 3 wands was in reverse, upright that could have been moving on to a different job, but in Rx that is a no. It feels to me you are right where you need to be right now, just be kinder to yourself and don't push yourself quite so hard.

#tarot by ladykinrannoch #personal readings

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george-weasleys-girl · 1 year

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Hey hey! 🌻 I'd love to ask you questions about your summer in England. Everything you'd be willing to share, but I think that's too much to ask for you to type haha☺️🪻✨️🩷

Skip any Q you'd like or pick and choose 🤗

Did you go with anyone? 🧚‍♀️

Did you plan everything extensively, or allowed for you to change your schedule if something interesting came up? 🗓

Did you take a lot of luggage with you? 🧳

What were some unexpected culture shocks?🚦

What cities did you visit? 🗺

What city/ place surprised you, and in what ways? 🏞

Did you buy a lot of souvenirs? 🛍

How many pictures did you take? 📷

Did you learn something new about yourself? 💭

Did jet lag affect you too much? 😴

What's some food that you tried and loved? And maybe some you wouldn't have again? 🍽

How was your plane ride? 🛩

How did you get around? 🚌

What are some things you did visiting the places that influenced the Arthurian legends? Museums, tours, workshops? 🤩⚔️

Is there something you wish you had brought with you? 🧵

Did you buy any books, or one you already have but in a special edition/in British English? 📚

Did you get sunburned? 🫠

Did you visit/do anything Harry Potter related? 🪄

Could you share something that's not in the questions above about your experience? 🤩

Thank youu~ 🎠👑

Of course! ☺️💕

I went with a small group of 14 people. One of the English lit professors and his wife arranged the trip every few years.

Yes and no. During the week, we had scheduled events in the mornings, but the afternoon/evenings and weekends were ours to do whatever.

Far more luggage than I needed. 😅

London, Glastonbury, Tintagel, Cardiff, York, Carlisle, Stratford-upon-Avon, Edinburgh, Inverness, Dublin

A lambswool sweater 🐑, books (mostly on history/arthurian legends, and a couple of Brian Froud art books). A few trinkets as gifts for others. I'm not much of a souvenir person. Pictures are my souvenirs and took a ton of them. I also mailed myself a postcard from every city we visited.

The trip made me realize how much I'd love to travel the world. Be a nomad for a couple of years.🧳✈️

We traveled by train everywhere. 🚞

Jet lag kicked my ass once I got home. I slept for three days straight. 😆😴

Proper fish and chips. Wrapped in newspaper and drenched with malt vinegar. Good stuff. 😋

The plane ride wasn't too bad. Long and a little cramped. But, I had a window seat, so that was nice.

Musuems, tours, etc. Oh dear, where do I start? We got to go behind the scenes at the British museum to see the original 9th century manuscript that mentioned Arthur for the first time. (Also got brief glimpses of other things rarely on exhibit, like original compositions by Beethoven and Mozart.) Tours at Tintagel, hiked up to Glastonbury Tor, Stonehenge, Hadrian's Wall, Richmond Castle in York

I'm happy to say that I didn't get sunburned.

Sadly, I didn't do anything Harry Potter related. Also, didn't manage to go see the Beefeaters at the Tower of London or Buckingham Palace. (Who goes to England and doesn't do those things? 🤷‍♀️). Next time, definitely.

A few non-Arthurian things we did: toured London on a double decker bus, went to visit Loch Ness (didn't see the monster), a few of us took a weekend trip to Dublin, visited Stratford and saw Shakespeare's birthplace, and a production of Macbeth. Saw Phantom of the Opera on West End.

I would've loved to have spent time in The Lake District, but I only got to see it as we passed through on the train. Breathtakingly beautiful. 🏞

That's all I can think of in one sitting. 😆💖

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nghtmqred · 1 year

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✧.* is that DECLAN O’CONNELL hanging around town ? I wonder if they want to know what the future holds, as for right now, they are a NEW LOCAL TO MCKINLEY ? i’ve heard they can be pretty OBSTINATE. how typical for a HUMAN (PSYCHIC). i guess they must rely on their CHARISMA side shining through. rumor has it they’re trying to hide THAT HE MAYBE HEARING PEOPLES THOUGHTS OR HES GOING CRAZY HEARING VOICES IN HIS HEAD ONE OF THE TWO, but that’s probably just noise…

Growing up in Dublin for Declan was a touchy subject. His mother left his father when he was around ten years old. Dad hit the bottle hard after that, and it was up to Dec to take care of his four younger siblings early on. He never blamed his dad for his alcoholism. He wasn’t drunk that got violent. He was the kind of drunk you felt sorry for especially when he could hear his harsh, critical thoughts of himself as a father and husband. Still, it was hard not to resent his old man having Dec become the man of the house early on; that was how his love of cooking started.

Mum had been the one to do most of the cooking, with her gone, and dad to instead stand on his own feet let alone cook his children’s food. The responsibility fell on Declan. He even had to go grocery shopping, gather up all the kids and make the trek to the farmers market. Doing his best to entertain and distract his siblings on the long walks to and from. Singing songs and telling stories, all to keep their thoughts off their situation. You know, typical big brother.

But when it was time to cook, Dec liked the kitchen. Even as his little sister helped him out - Maeve, his little sous chef. Sure, he got picked on when kids found out he was doing the mum’s job cooking the meals. In which case, they caught both of his fists. Declan was happy to take care of his sibling. Of course, he didn’t like it all the time. He didn’t like having to help his dad get up and out of bed daily and night. Didn’t like to cook all the time. He was a kid… he wanted to do kid things. But they were his family, and family was and would always be important to him.

Eventually, though, dad started drinking less. Became more present and aware that his children needed him. And Dec was grateful, at sixteen, knowing he needed the break, wanted the chance to enjoy his life, and boy, did he do so with gusto.

When it was time to figure out what he wanted to do with his life, he knew it would revolve around food. Yes, it may be cliche to say he was a foodie, but he genuinely was. He had no real training and couldn’t afford it, but his father knew some people in the states, his uncle, to be precise. Declan could go live there in New Orleans and study under some fascinating and exceptional chefs.

Even though he didn’t know or remember his uncle that well, Declan jumped. So he said goodbye to his father and siblings a hopped over the pond to the states. And was it a shock to his system! In particular, New Orleans was far from the life he knew. But he took it in stride. Too obstinate in believing anything was impossible for him to figure out. His uncle Kieran helped him get his foot in some doors, and Declan got to work.

It was funny; coming to New Orleans at eighteen seemed to do him good. The voices were so loud and so clear. It was like he knew what a person wanted to eat, knew what they were in the mood for, and he delivered tenfold. It was strange, and he never questioned it-- not till the day he heard someone screaming for help. He couldn’t understand why no one else seemed to hear her, but he could. Only he couldn’t find her, not till it was too late. The body of a young woman with punctured wounds on her neck and arms. That was the first time the voices in his head weren’t all good.

So he told his uncle and tried to keep them quiet as best he could. Some herbs a herbalist gave him said would help him out. And they did for a long time. For years the voice softened and quieted. Once arriving in Mckinley, though-- it seemed they were back and louder than ever. He isn’t sure why isn’t sure what it means. But he’s starting to think that if he isn’t crazy, he better find out exactly what is going on with him.

#sanguishqs.intro #tw alchoholism #╭ 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘 / 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙳 𝚄𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚈 𝙾𝚄𝚃𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙴 ! ↠ declan o’connell ╯#declan oconnell intro

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mandssisters · 1 year

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#marcusmumford #Brighton : #Chalk. The last leg 3.12.22

Well. What a few weeks it has been. Can’t really believe it’s all over. As per the end of any tour. Let the memories find their space and the joy live on.

Brighton by train on a Saturday. Not beyond the wit of man is it, but nearly beyond the wit of south western railways and then southern railways.

Can’t believe they cancelled the extra 5 carriages and at Bournemouth and made all those who got on for LONDON now ride cattle class standing up in the aisles riding shotgun behind the person in front. It was pretty poor. A change at Southampton saw chaos as another 100 travellers wanted to get on. But were turned away. Can’t believe my joy that after all these years I spotted entering Totton, on the side of a large building Peter Mumford and Sons flour mills 1885. Google it!!

Second leg, started well, but 8 stops were cancelled due to the training being late!!! I mean ok for me again but goodness me that’s poor isn’t it.

Brighton be still my beating heart. It’s been too long. The North Lanes. The graffiti / murals on the buildings, the winding lanes, the independent shops, the vintage shops. I was in seventh heaven. Kid in a candy store!!

Although only 4 degrees a walk on the pier, and the sound of pebbles under your feet is a must.

Lunch in the vegan cafe. So good. Pea and kale burger 💯 winner.

Chalk. The understated lost venue. Squint and you’ll find it in Brighton.

Only a short time queuing due to the extreme temperature outside. But always meaningful.

Passer by group number

1. Is this a strip club? Who you waiting for?

Passer by number 2. Who you waiting for ….. is he the comedian?

Met an amazing lady, visiting Brighton in memory and in spirit of her late daughter. I’ll say no more, but we’re thinking of you. And she would have loved every second of the show. Her spirit lives on. Xx #forever

Show time TBC on the tickets. 8pm ish on the email. 8.35pm in real time. Packed crowd. At the front was the photographer that has always been around Sussex, shaved head and impressive hipster beard. Many times I’ve seen him. Always remember seeing him at the Lewes stopover covered in chalk dust head to toe post colour chalk battle. I found the photo!! Look out for his pictures.

General summary. Soaking it all in as this is the last one. 🥹. MM Outfit change. Long black trousers and black boots. Gone are the white socks and pumps. Well it is 2 degrees outside. Wise choice.

We got 50 mins of Musial joy. Mixed in with good banter.

:Still operating as an elite squad since the band left them in Dublin.

:What day of the week is it. We were very quiet for a Saturday night in Brighton was it because the poppers hadn’t kicked in yet.

:Tour strap lines, “do you want a line”. As in Liverpool at the tour bus a Liverpudlian came up and asked them!!! Later during the show, you know who you are, a Liverpudlian shouted “do you want a line” sing I’m in fire… you don’t ask you don’t yet. To much hilarity for Marcus who said it made his evening!!

:Some crowd feedback that they couldn’t hear him. “Well you should have come earlier”.

:MFT: roadie talk for my first tour. Rookie error . The way the guitar was tuned for The Cave, (tuned by MM) was way too high, but once you’re in you’re in right??? :You still nailed it.

:C*nt chat

:Reincarnation…. ❤️

:I will wait , Mixing it up by asking if he could stand on the bar so that the back could hear him off mic. Only to find that the ceiling wasn’t that high so opting for sitting on the bar. Always a winner.

:Marcus catching a flight to New York today.

:Signing off with see you soon. We hope so.

:lady at end asking for the mug that MM had been drinking from…. Confirmation that it was Green Tea.

A joyful evening of course over too soon. Leaving the crowd wanting more. Back out into the chilly winter winds. Anyone for a five guys? 👋. Post Tour diet starts today.

Set list:

Only Child

Dangerous Game

Awake my soul

Go in light

Better off high

The Cave

Cowboy

Reincarnation

Grace

How

I will wait

(I think)

#mumford and sons #mumford & sons #marcus mumford #brighton #chalk

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jessifordhandsome · 1 year

Conversation

Wow! Thank you! Thank you. Thank you for responding to my email/ request to contact me using my private email once again; I know it was unusual for me to request that you email through my personal email when you do not even know me. I am glad that you did because I would have lost contact with you as my subscription has expired and I can no longer access my Match.com account. Anyway, that is by-the-way since I can still reach you via your private email. Once again, thank you.

I hope you had a long and nice weekend, mine has been a busy one as my office is relocating to a new building which is a permanent site. I have also been In and out of town this past week so it was really a long week till yesterday. I have sorted my busy schedule out and now free so let talk about love .Lol.

It seems I have been rambling instead of telling you more about me as I promised in my email to you on the site. I am a bit religious, affectionate, outgoing, active, energetic, positive, generous man with a healthy sense of humor who is rediscovering all that life has to offer. I'm a bit of a clown, and playful, I love to laugh even at myself. I am a Fun loving, humble man with the belief that a woman should be treated like a lady and that it is always ladies first. I am a Fund Manager by profession; a work I love to do the way I love to enjoy life. I am generally a happy, upbeat person who has achieved much in life professionally, financially and personally. I am fun to be with and can be very romantic. I am positive on everything that life brings me. I believe that I am where I am at this point in my life for a good reason. I am an honest and caring person who is very loyal to those I care about. I've traveled extensively in the course of doing my work. I am financially very okay. I consider myself to be a gentleman with good values. I am comfortable in suits and tie as well as a pair of jeans. I am neat and clean in my living and my appearance.

I cannot say for sure if you did view my profile before my subscription expired. If you did not, here are some information which were in my profile

I am 6ft2

Athletic and toned

Hazel eyes

I do not smoke

I am a social drinker, widowed for ten years

I have a son that lives away from home. She is

presently in France with her grandma

I am white/Caucasian

Christian catholic, had my graduate degree and speak

English and French fluently

I have dual citizenship, French and American.

I like and have a dog. I was born on 16 May 1954.

I don't want to sound over excited but I must confess that I am so happy to have come across you and I know that you would want us to take this slowly but I will try to be positive and consistent. I pray that you will not see me as moving too fast or being so direct. I know you will not understand how happy I am to get your response after going through your profile for 50 minute and I made up my wind to write you hoping that you will write back and you did. I have come to understand that I will need a serious relationship in my life.

People say that I play with everything except my work. But what they don’t know is that I can play with my work but not with my love for someone. This is why I prefer people that will appreciate my humorous attitude. I am fun to be with and believe in the saying, ‘the older the wine, the better” so I don’t believe in age being a hindrance in a relationship.

I like seeing soccer, movies and listening to music. I like going to the beach and climbing mountains thou I have only climbed once in Dublin. I am currently attached to Tincan Investment international as a Senior Consultant Fund Manager, but would want to be self-employed in near future. I am a trained educationist and learnt the Fund Management trade under Robert Kiyosaki. I worked with him for seven years speaking on investing, fund management and teaching on how to benefit from the content of his three major books, Rich Dad Poor Dad, Rich Dad's CASHFLOW Quadrant, and Rich Dad's Guide to Investing. It was while on a tour with him to Aberdeen Scotland that I was made on offer by Tincan investment International. I worked with them for 6 years before I returned to United States and now work as a Consultant Fund Manager.

I have to stop here so that I will have another thing to say in my next email. I have attached some of my pictures which I uploaded on the dating site but since my subscription has expired, I don’t know if you were able to view them. I took the pictures three months ago when my son came to visit me from France. He needed new pictures of me so we used his camera to take the pictures and he printed it on getting to France and sent these ones to me. All I can assure at this point is that you will never regret meeting me if it works out for us; my late wife never did, so you will not. I promise!!! Let’s see how it goes.

Regards

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imageftblog · 15 days

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How to Become a Certified Personal Trainer with Image Fitness Training

Are you also a fitness and health conscious person? So why don't you turn your passion for health into a fulfilling profession? Well, you can consider this possibility now. As you can see, people out there today are very concerned about their health and fitness. And thus, Image Fitness Training, a leader in personal training courses Ireland, is your one-stop solution. They can equip you with the right knowledge and abilities to end up as a sought-after private trainer. You will then be able to empower and help others achieve their health and well-being goals.

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totosite88 · 2 months

Text

Renaissance Revival: Wigs and Extravagance

The Renaissance period witnessed a resurgence of interest in grooming and personal style. Elaborate wigs adorned with ribbons and jewels became a symbol of status and opulence. Courtiers and noblemen indulged in elaborate coiffures, setting the stage for the modern concept of visiting a barber training course for a touch of refinement.

Victorian Virtues: Mutton Chops and Wax

The Victorian era brought about a more structured and refined approach to men’s grooming. Mutton chops and neatly waxed mustaches became the epitome of sophistication. The burgeoning middle class began to embrace the concept of regular visits to the local barbers open in dublin, setting the stage for the grooming rituals we know today.

Roaring Twenties: The Birth of the Modern Gentleman

Enter the Roaring Twenties, an era of rebellion and social change. The slicked-back hair of gangsters and the well-coiffed styles of the Great Gatsby era marked the birth of the modern gentleman. Barbershops transformed into social hubs where men gathered not only for a haircut but also for camaraderie and conversation.

Rock ’n’ Roll Rebellion: Pompadours and Quiffs

The post-war period saw the rise of rock ’n’ roll and rebellious spirits. Iconic hairstyles like the pompadour and quiff became synonymous with rebellion and individualism. The barbershop, once a place of tradition, embraced the creative freedom of expression, becoming a hub for experimentation.

Modern Man: Versatility and Individualism

In the present day, men’s hairstyles have become a canvas for self-expression. From the buzz cuts of military precision to the free-flowing locks of the bohemian spirit, the modern man has the freedom to choose his identity through his hair. Barbershops, like Choppers Barbers, the best barber shop in Dublin, have become sanctuaries of style, offering expert advice and personalized services to cater to every man’s unique taste.

As we conclude our journey through time, we see that men’s hairstyles are more than just a reflection of fashion trends. They are a testament to the evolving nature of society, culture, and personal identity. So, the next time you step into the Choppers Barbers — the best barbers in dublin, remember that you are continuing a tradition that spans centuries — a tradition of self-expression, transformation, and timeless style.

Ancient Civilizations: The Roots of Style

Our journey begins in ancient civilizations, where men used primitive tools and a keen eye for aesthetics to shape their hair. Whether it was the elaborate braids of the Egyptians or the warrior-like topknots of the Samurai, hairstyles were symbolic of one’s status, occupation, or even spiritual beliefs.

Medieval Marvels: Tonsures and Tresses

As we fast forward to medieval times, we encounter the iconic tonsure — a shaved crown worn by monks, priests, and scholars. Meanwhile, knights and nobles showcased their prowess through intricate braids and flowing locks. The battlefields were not only arenas for combat but also runways for showcasing style.

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ntcdotie · 3 months

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Advanced Fitness Trainer Courses in Dublin – Find Your Niche & Stand Out

The fitness industry in Dublin is more competitive than ever. With new gyms and trainers entering the market every month, standing out as a fitness professional requires dedication and focus. General skills and certifications, while important, are often not enough to sustain a thriving career in the long run. This is where advanced fitness trainer courses in Dublin come in.

Specialisation is key to surviving and thriving as a fitness pro in a crowded market like Dublin. Developing a niche and advanced expertise in a specific field —strength training, Pilates, athletic conditioning, senior fitness, and more — provides a major edge.

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Specialising in a niche fitness area can provide numerous advantages that enhance your career prospects and earning potential as a fitness instructor. Here are some of the key benefits to consider:

Increased Income Potential

Gaining qualifications in specialised areas like strength training, indoor cycling, or group fitness exercise equips you with more premium service offerings. This enables you to command higher prices and package premium training programmes and services.

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– Charge higher hourly rates

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Expanded Client Base

Specialising creates new client opportunities by positioning you as an expert in a niche field. For example, specialising in pre and post natal fitness enables you to market your services to pregnant and postpartum women. Meanwhile, qualifying as a senior fitness expert opens up avenues with the mature demographic.

Career Longevity

Continuing professional development through specialisation makes you more valuable in the dynamic fitness industry. Specialists have greater job security and career longevity than generalists. Staying up to date with the latest techniques and qualifications related to your niche ensures you continue to be an in-demand industry resource.

What Are the Popular Advanced Fitness Trainer Courses in Dublin?

Dublin offers diverse specialisation courses for fitness professionals looking to expand their skills. For one, trusted institutions like the National Training Centre (NTC) provide several accredited programmes.

Some of the most popular specialisation courses available in Dublin include:

Strength and Conditioning

Gain expertise in coaching athletes, sports teams, or clients looking to improve strength, speed, power, mobility, and conditioning. Strength and conditioning courses cover program design, techniques, and equipment use.

Pilates

Obtain comprehensive Pilates training to instruct classes or provide personal training focused on core strength, flexibility, and controlled movement.

Group Fitness

Learn how to lead and motivate individuals or groups in exercise activities, including cardiovascular exercises, strength training, and stretching. Through these courses, gain the skills to manage dynamic, large or small group fitness training, keeping safety in mind while injecting energy and fun.

Pre- and Post-Natal Fitness

Learn how to safely train expectant and postpartum mothers through tailored exercise programming and instruction during the prenatal and postnatal stages.

Older Adult Fitness

Gain expertise in designing exercise for older adults through courses focused on the ageing process, chronic conditions, functional mobility, and modifying exercise for this demographic.

With such variety, Dublin offers fitness professionals exciting options to advance in their chosen niche.

Choosing Your Niche: Which Fitness Trainer Specialisation Course Is Right for You?

When selecting a specialisation course, it’s essential to choose an area you feel passionate about and have an intrinsic interest in, as you’ll be immersed in the subject matter for an extended period during your studies. However, passion alone isn’t enough. It’s crucial to also research the demand and career prospects associated with your prospective niche.

Here are the factors to consider to determine the advanced fitness trainer course you should take:

Your Present Clients’ Needs

Look at the demographics and goals of your current client base. Does a specific specialisation align with the services they are seeking? Catering to your present clients can be a logical first step.

Market Demand

Research which fitness specialisations are growing in popularity and are likely to see strong demand in future. Pursuing a niche with ample career opportunities will maximise your potential.

Your Long-Term Career Goals

Envision what your ideal career looks like. Specialisations like Pilates training may lend themselves better to entrepreneurship if you wish to open your studio.

Your Interests and Passions

You’ll naturally excel and enjoy a subject that genuinely interests you. Make sure your niche aligns with your interests for optimal job satisfaction.

By objectively assessing these factors, rather than choosing solely based on passion, you can make an informed decision to find the ideal niche that complements your interests, goals and marketability as a fitness professional. This will set you up for fulfilling and successful career advancement.

Getting Started With Your Fitness Instructor Specialisation Journey

When you’ve determined your ideal specialisation, it’s time to take action by finding and enrolling in the right advanced fitness training course. Here are some useful tips for this process:

Do Your Research

Search online, ask for recommendations from peers and mentors, and contact course providers to learn about the syllabus, format, pricing, duration, registration dates, and any required prerequisites or qualifications.

Check Accreditation

Make sure the qualification you’ll receive at the end is accredited by a reputable body like REPs Ireland so that it will be recognised within the industry.

Sort Financing Matters

Confirm costs upfront and look into funding options if needed, like bank loans, payment plans, grants and scholarships. Some employers may also sponsor further training.

Fulfill Prerequisites

Certain advanced or CPD courses in fitness training require you to already have foundational qualifications, work experience, insurance, etc. So, ensure you fulfil these before applying.

Send Applications

Follow each provider’s application guidelines carefully. You may need to submit documents, test results, and proof of existing qualifications. You may also need to answer questionnaires or go through interviews.

Enrol and Prepare

Once accepted, prepare for the course by ordering the required materials, textbooks, and equipment. Also, make work and family arrangements to dedicate time to learning.

With ample research and planning, you can chart the optimal roadmap to enhance your fitness career via specialised qualifications from Dublin’s top health fitness course providers like the National Training Centre.

In conclusion, when it comes to fitness training, becoming a specialist rather than a generalist isn’t just an option; it’s a necessity. Choosing to specialise is choosing to commit to continuous learning, to set yourself apart, and to cater to specific needs with expert knowledge. This commitment is key to building a rewarding, sustainable, and successful fitness career.

Indeed, thriving in the Dublin fitness scene requires more than just a general training certification. The advanced fitness trainer courses in Dublin present a golden opportunity to rise above the crowd. Each course offers a toolbox of skills, waiting for ambitious fitness professionals willing to utilise them for their growth.

Ready to make your mark in the fitness industry? Begin exploring our specialisation courses today and take that next step towards becoming a niche fitness expert. Call us now on +353-1- 882 7777 or click here to learn more about advanced fitness trainer courses in Dublin.

#Advanced Fitness Trainer #Fitness Trainer Courses #dublin #ireland

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