Well, For Starters...
Well, for Starters...
Amy and Mark had several reservations as they entered the establishment. A tray of champagne glasses bubbling over with resentment glided by them as they were approached by a well dressed man. "We have smoking or non-smoking seething. Which would you prefer?" Mark looked at Amy. "Well her constant smoking is a factor so put us there in smoking. We wanna make a real meal of this." The well dressed man smugly added. "That's our job, Sir. Welcome to Bickerings, known throughout the country for it's fine quizz-ine." "We could have just had this out at home, Mark," Amy sternly said. The couple were being led to their table. "If we're going to have a proper argument we might as well do it in a five star row-staurant which is what Bickerings is, "Mark retorted. "Let's just try and have some fun here." Amy sighed as she pulled up her seat. Looking around she noticed a number of sobbing couples and a few others completely in silence. "Spend all this money to just sit in silence. That's a good thing?!" Mark didn't reply as he was already perusing the menu. Amy picked up hers and began to scan it. "Hmm...infidelity is never rare...that's sort of funny..." Mark saw a chance for first blood. "But it can be well done!" Amy glared at him. "I'm not sure I have the right appetite tonight. Destruction doesn't look all that appealing," Mark was wondering aloud, not really addressing his dinner date. "I'm going to have the salad," Amy flatly said. "I hear they use some of the finest olive vitriol around for it." A waitress walked over to them. "Hi, my name is Tiffany, Tiff for short. I'll be waiting on you this evening. If you'd care to look at our specials. We have fresh recriminations, chicken bones of contention and of course our famed Fracas bar which is located to my left or if you wish to argue with me, to your right." Mark addressed her. "I know revenge and all that serving cold stuff, but I'd rather it hot. Any suggestions?" "Well, we could bring it out when your conversation is getting more heated or we could have the meat roasted on a spat!" "Hmmm...I don't know," Mark mulled. "I do have a real beef with this woman but I don't want it overdone. Ro-Misery cooking doesn't do it for me. I'll stick with plain revenge. Straight up." Tiff smiled and handed another menu. "The resign list?" Mark took it while Tiff looked at Amy. "Salad was it?" "Yes, with some rude barbs." Tiff corrected her, "Do you mean Rhubarb?" Amy nodded. "Just a pint of Bitter for me then." "And a drink for you Miss?." "Faultless to a tea, thank you." Their first (dis)course were some insults they skewered each other with. Amy was unhappy with the belittle portions but didn't make any more of a scene than the two were already making. Their main coarse was intense. Mark had to send back his first piece of revenge as it was raw. He settled with the second piece even if it was a little undercooked. Tapping a nearby table he asked. "We got some wounds here, but no salt. Could we trouble you for some of yours?" Over the meal a lot was aired but this was no mere food fight. This was Dinner breaks all. The sort of argument that chews up a couple and then spits them out. They scoffed at one another before they scoffed down some more food. During a break in the hostilities and as a palate cleanser they decided to engage in perfectly civil chat. Mark laughed."I've heard such good things about this place. It's way nicer that that old dump we'd go for a little bite, I mean fight. What was that placed called?" "Oh yeah Quarrels. I don't know, it had a nice in your face quality. The Anger-biance there was second to none." It wasn't long, though it felt like an eternity like most arguments do, before they had im-gibed enough drink and devoured enough food for thought and were onto their just desserts. Having had their fill of each other they got up to leave Bickerings and as they were making their way out, Mark noted, "It's a bit steep. But we've had too many disagreements tonight. We won't dispute the bill." Amy replied, "I hear they like when people do that though!" As they neared the door they came across the well dressed man once again. It was clear he was the Haître d' of the place. "Finest fight we have ever had! Thank you! My compliments and complaints to your staff." The Haître d' just sneered. "Well, what else would you expect from a 5 Star location such as Bickerings? We're hardly Fast Feud!"
More Posts from Emiguess and Others
A Sweeping Narrative
Leonard was frustrated with his job. Confetti and glitter were strewn all around the street, the after effects of yet another towering crescendo that may have brought the house down, but he knew someone had to clean that house afterwards.
Every night another big song and dance number on the street and he’d be left to pick up the pieces, literally, and prepare the street for the next melodic go around. He had long railed against the injustice of the world he lived in.
“Musicals are no good for folks who can’t hold a note!” he would complain closing his bedroom window on some starlets nasally solo number. “You can hold a broom though so get to work!” his wife would bark at him, her tones anything but dulcet.
He could see the vocalists and background dancers heading off to their narrative cut off points, another day, another decibel. As he was sweeping away the debris on Gilbert Avenue, his boss Sullivan approached him with a stranger in tow.
“Len, this here is Bernie, he’s new to musical celluloid and eager to work the streets.” The stranger spoke, “I just wanna see where the big numbers happen!” Len barely saluted the new arrival.
Their work went slowly. Last night had seen sixty distinct performers strut their stuff and leave behind their waste. Neither hummed while they worked as any musical activity from custodians was rather unfairly frowned upon.
“Can’t believe I’m working on Main Street.” Bernie beamed, his naive optimism as annoyingly catchy as any ditty.
Len gave a non committal grunt.
“This is where it all happens. Ballads belted out, where happy endings are gloriously choreographed. I worked on stage before. That’s easy to clean. You just collapse the backdrop!” He looked around as he spoke, dazzled by his surroundings. “This is a real back-lot...”
Leonard interrupted Bernie’s prattling with a long drawn out sigh. Bernie took this less than graceful hint and the duo continued to sweep in silence.
It was outside the Busby Theatre when the new recruit piped up once again, his voice softer and more measured this time, the giddy cadence of his previous patter now absent.
“I actually work two jobs. But my dream is...Well it’s...”
Leonard snapped. “ Let me guess! To make it! To duet with Margaret Byrne on some lavish show! I get it. You’re here, but you haven’t even started singing and I’m already sick of your voice! We just clean the place for all the pompous High Notes, all right?!”
Bernie was stunned. After collecting himself for a few moments he launched into the most beautiful a capella version of a song Len had never heard before. Everyone in the complex, nearby workers, the Silent Union as they were called, stopped and took notice of Bernie’s undeniable talent. After this haunting rendition had ended a humbled Leonard remarked, “Wow”.
He looked at Bernie. “Where else did you say you worked?”
“Down the street,” Bernie replied with a smile, “at a barbershop.”
Chilly
The smile in the dark Of the potential dangers the safe shores framed by your beacon glow the sun gilded sheen And your rhythm chimed like the heartbeat of stones along that country walk The blue of the sky softening to something chilly above us . Some narratives I would never cling to, ghost stories in the teeth of fiction The touch of a hand in that false night grants an audience to such things. Shoo away the onset of heavy dusk til the song of morning sounds.
Left
the first time we hold
on this earth
was to the most perfect
flirty dirge
and blessed are the mixed
signals
because it's where false hope
does flourish
in dreams to the left
and in the most solid gray
the amber eyes of the past
with flies out my mouth when i
should have something to say
I can not speak for too many of
this times so called men
but I echo the thwarted
when I say
get me something sharp that I can wield
again
The Smoking Pun
Conversation was dead. His body was slumped over his chair when the the lights came back on. Silence was in his element, grinning but despite him enjoying the situation, it wasn't clear if he was the murderer. The last thing anyone remembered before the black out was a heated conversation about a burning issue, that of smoking. Cigar had piped in with his view while Pipe tried to get the last word. He was close but no Cigar. As master of ceremonies Conversation had been trying to be fair to all parties. He kept the language clean since Nico was still a tine-ager but when it came to the issue of Cigarettes all the relevant parties were lacking the proper social filters. "Smoking kills," Theory proclaimed,"And there lies the proof!" "Any idea who the murderer could be?" Query was concerned. She had been asking a lot of questions lately and nobody liked that very much. Theory flailed around the room while pontificating loudly. "What we need to do is find out the final quip before Conversation died. We track down that sense of humour and we find the culprit!" Everyone stayed quiet. The scene had been a mess of people shouting their views and trying to come across as more important than they were by blowing smoke. "We never should have invited that man Tobacco and his 'Lobbyists' to this get together," Count Finite, the Lord of the Manor sighed, speaking to his trophy girlfriend, a model by the name of Tally Marks. "I believe Tobacco is involved in organised crime!" Tally was all set with her rich paramour but couldn't resist some idle gossip. "Well honey, I've spoken to Tobaccos wife InHayley and she seemed very passive in general, even the fact that she heard second hand about this party tells you something. I'm not so sure she knows what her husband is up to. Total smokescreen." Theory was concerned about his ability to solve this crime. He was just a layman, a working Theory, not a definite Explanation. He had failed those exams, because he could find any references or cite himself. "Everyone had a reason to kill Conversation, the guy never shut up," he wondered aloud. "Slip of the Tongue had tried to slip out earlier but that was just cause she was having an affair and was afraid she'd incriminate herself. Why she ever left Schtum is beyond me but I guess she didn't like being a kept woman." Suddenly the lights went out again and Theory was stabbed. "That's one theory eliminated," came a chilling voice from the darkness. His body dropped to the floor but this time the killer had been less careful. His first smoking pun that had killed the conversation had been said in a mysterious tone. The exact line was "That's just how Mr. Tobacco rolls..." followed by Conversations final gasp. No-one could figure out the identity or even the gender of the voice. But happy with his quip about Theory, the murderer had let a slightly grand accent come through and a tone which was distinctly snooty. As the lights came back up, the whole crowd turned to the same person. It was such a cliche, they were annoyed with themselves that they hadn't thought of it already. Who was always being picked on by Conversation when he was making jokes? Who had, due to his past been led ashtray and had definite loyalties to Tobacco and Smoking in general? It was so obvious, the evidence could match nobody else. The Butt-ler had done it.
Emmet O'Brien takes on Superman.
Here is my review of Man of Steel. I've made it pretty much spoiler free but still approach with caution if you're trying to stay uninformed before the film is released!
Tweeting Action Films With Respect
I don't understand Twitter. Well I understand how it works and the purpose it serves but I guess I find it hard to utilize it or get too swept up in it. Thinking about it as a new phenomenon, here are a few classic Action film characters if they had been tweeting about their famous adventures. Die Hard- John McClane @yippeekiyayroyrogers
You could say I had a pretty "Hans on" weekend. My wife took me back but only after some serious bloodletting on both our parts. #sockittomeplaza Terminator- Sarah Connor @skynetsucks Met a great man but unlike my usual type, the no hopers who have no future, this guy was the only hope from the future. Why are the all the good ones from an alternate timeline? FML. #judgementdaze The Matrix- Neo @theone55 Stressful few days. Had a lot of trouble with my Agent. Face Off- Sean Archer @wooingdoves I'm glad I have my original face back..but man Castor Troy had some good cheekbones. Predator- Major Alan Schaefer (Arnie) @notpredator2
Never going back into the jungle again. The mosquitoes are murder. Met an...out of towner. We had words. #wtfwasthatthing?
Kill Bill- The Bride @bridalpower I know, I know. Volume 2 kind of sucked. And Bill was totally wrong about Superman #buddandellesdeathsaresodisappointing Aliens- Ripley @ripleybelieveitornot @alienqueen4realz @Newt says hi! I hope there's no hard feelings about that whole blasting you into space thing. #INSPACENOONECANHEARYOUTWEET
Suburban One-trick Blues
I love Bob Dylan and decided to write a sort of potted history of key moments in his career using "Subterranean Homesick Blues" as a template. For the record any ribbing is meant as utterly affectionate. It's Alright Bob (I'm Only Teasing).
Bobby's in his element making a new precedent he sure as hell isn't thinking about the protest movement man from Newport
Wire cut, pissed off
Said Bob's a traitor
Now Judas gone and kissed off
Look out Bob it's something you distort God knows why But the folkies sure got hurt better crash your bike down an alley way looking for time willing The fans in the Royal Albert Hall
wanted folk Zimmerman they got Bob Dylan Bobby in his neat suit Fans full of what the fuck? feeling in a rut
take amphetamines to strut Many later say, they were never that nay in how the band did play but that's retroactive hearsay Rumours from back in the day! Look out Bob next few years gonna be rough going do bad country stuff domestic bliss, you going to bluff but we will get the basement tapes stuff
you don't need the Jokerman to tell you that's more than enough Get married, get divorced Idiot wind such a force Ring them bells, ride that horse Some gospel stuff to endorse Try out Lanois, then Au Revoir Get burnt out, before really fail Fall ill, but then prevail Jack Frost produce, big sale Mumble in theatres, never ending tours in thousand seaters Get medals from world leaders Scorsese film makes him cool Bob then playing the Christmas fool Dylanologists, silly believers Watch the phrasing of his meters Now Tempest, far from his best Dylan shuffle, enunciating trouble Cowboy dressed, some verses he guessed but he's really trying "Aw Bless" Please the die hard, even when he don't try hard Don't download, buy the damn record 50 years of performin' he must be bored Look out Bob, they keep making you hip Better jump into self parody Masked by some senility give the audience mild hostility Keep on keepin' on while you still got mobility And rally against the censors On your never ending tour adventures The man will always work til the end of his mortality...
N. E. W. S. Conference
The four of them were sitting uneasily around the conference table, eyeing each other up. Two men and two women. It was obvious from the body language that none of them wanted to be there but were compelled out of duty...and also...a geomagnetic field was keeping them in place. There was a heavy silence but a mumbling could be heard outside the door. One of the men piped up, "That Sun of a bitch. I have things to be doing. I just want this meeting over with." One of the women sighed. A bookish fair haired man entered the room looking at a clipboard. His hair was bright gold and despite his well kept official appearance, it seemed to want to escape the pony tail it had clumsily been tied up in. It seemed that any second this man would go supernova and shed his accountant-like guise and go up in flames. He sat at the top of the table and was humming as he flicked sheets over on his board. "Hmmm...I see...Yes...Yes...." He warmly smiled as he looked up and in a jovial tone began "So...How are we all doing today?" The four figures looked at each other with a mixture of boredom and incredulity and said nothing. "Fine. We'll get straight to business. I'm happy to report that your yearly reports have been filed and totted up and you've all compassed with flying colours! You must be all very relieved and proud!" Another beat of heavy silence. "Of course it's only regulation that I'm here for a final look see. And to make sure you're all happy in your current positions and well directions...ha...in life." One of the men shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The blond haired official noticed this and said "Ok, East. Tell me what's wrong?" East began first addressing the fair haired man before generally looking at his three other colleagues. "Well Mr. Sun, I'm not happy for a number of reasons. As the direction the Earth rotates on it's axis...I feel I should have more...well...axis in general. Certain levels of clearance are being denied to me and I have to wonder why. I can't help but wonder do people have a problem with my...orientation?" North scoffed at this. East continued. "You know Mr. Sun, we do the morning shift together and I really enjoy our working relationship but as the day goes on I feel frozen out." North interrupted. "You don't know anything about being frozen.." "Mr. North," The Sun chimed in, "You'll get your chance. Go on East." "That was pretty much all I had to say." "Ok...How do the rest of you feel?" North was a cool customer and assumed a leadership role as soon as he began work. "Look, I say it like it is, I mean I'm not called "true north" for nothing and I think East is overreacting. We all get our jobs, and some are better than others. I'm sorry if you're not a morning person but that's just the way it's gone.I mean back me up here South..." South didn't know if she agreed with North but could understand his point of view. She had once been attracted to him but chalked that up to his magnetism. "Well..." she muttered, "I do think as positions go, East gets sort of the short shrift and it's only now...dawning...on him..Ha. Sorry, couldn't resist!" East looked generally unimpressed but was at least grateful South seemed to side with him a little. She spoke on "Let's give him some latitude here to air his grievances." West grimaced. She picked up a glass as if to drink from it but instead used it to motion while she made her point. "To be honest, I'm with North and I usually don't like what he has to say but come on! We all studied our ass off for our 90 degrees and came to work here and we knew what we were getting into. Let's not deviate too far off course!" North took charge once more."I know I'm not that popular with the rest of you because of my fame. And for working on a fixed scale, "he smugly said, "Look I don't need to map it out for you. I'm the name here and I know it." "What is wrong with you?" East spluttered. "Do you not hear yourself?" South took the chance to comment "I think it's some times a case of 'the northern lights are on but nobody's home'." West groaned. South added. "I know conversations always go...South...when I get involved." She giggled.
"SHUT UP!" shouted the other three in unison, peeved at all the punning.
"That's another thing." East was angry now. "He not only gets all the fame, he gets perks like the Northern Lights and he's an aurora boring-ass as far as I can see." North was incensed."Hey! You get sunrises, you get majestic beauty on a daily basis. My perks are seasonal!" "I know I'm seen as the 'Wild' one, here" West announced "But may I make a suggestion. Maybe we should do something where we all like I don't know...switch around jobs or something..."
Mr. Sun looked very worried at this. "I was just talking to Mr. Earth outside this room and I don't think he'd sign on for such a major overhaul like that. Things like that require polls...and well poles. It's very complicated." "So what can we do then?" North sneered as he sat back slovenly in his chair. The Sun looked back down at his clipboard. "I will take all of this under advisement and you all know just how fair I am." East still looked unhappy but after having made his point conceded that there was no immeadiate solution. Mr. Sun stood up. "But now it's time to leave. We're way over time here. The Seven Days of the Week are eager to get in to this conference room and work on their various scheduling conflicts!" North sauntered out giving a mocking wink to East as he left. He and South soon filed out behind him leaving West and Mr. Sun in the room. "So.."Mr Sun whispered, looking around to ensure they were indeed alone, "Your place again tonight?" West smiled, "Of course, no-one has ever gone down on me quite the way you do. Well...maybe South..." "Sssh...no-one can know about our relationship! They'd think it was awfully inappropriate!" Somehow she had made the Sun go even redder in his cheeks. West wrapped her arms around the bookish star "Actually boss, that reminds me. Can I get a rays?" "Sigh...Fine, I'll see what I can do." He leaned in for a sun-kiss before saying "Oh the things I do for some Wild West action..." (Authors note: This piece was inspired by the Song No Aurora by The David Nelligan Thing. Check it out here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FwwlSATDJUQ&list=PL898AB4410575448E&index=6 and their tumblr here: http://davidnelligan.tumblr.com/)
An Overview of the Cork French Film Festival 2013
For fans of classic French Cinema this years 24th Cork French Film Festival provided a wide array of delights ranging from hugely influential New Wave films to more recent examples of monochromatic mischief.
Making a virtue of its “Noir et Blanc” theme the programme emanated that elusive and trademark kind of cool that we associate with Franco film-making, the expressive shadows concealing what seemed like a million askew narratives. Whether it was dealing with a straight ahead Film Noir, surely the province of such dark pools and austere skies, a matinee type serial fare or tackling social and economic pressures in far flung countries it never failed to, at its heart, entertain with wit and flair.
Godard, one of the most iconic of the French New Wave lot was well represented in the screening of “Alphaville”, an odd fusion of dystopic science fiction filtered through a gumshoe detective story, the influences of this seminal film providing templates for future hits such as Blade Runner. Featuring a brooding central performance by Eddie Constatine, admittedly never the most versatile of actors but his granite like face and natural stoicism put to good use and when set against the luminous presence of Goddess (and Godard muse) Anna Karina the films hypnotic gaze remains hard to resist. A science fiction film bereft of any real special effects, the sleek architecture of Paris stands in for the distant future and it’s metropolitan beauty is given an ominous and menacing sheen here. One of my favourite Godard pieces even with some of its odd storytelling lurches.
Keeping with the New Wave for a moment, “Shoot the Piano Player” was screened, Truffauts follow on to his stunning debut The 400 Blows, it’s easy to see why on it intitial release, the reception was so muted. Following 400 Blows would be a daunting task for anyone and a genre fusion of gangster farce and existential musing must have puzzled the audience first time around. Seen from a distance there is no doubting that it’s a minor work for the director, its attempts to marry disparate threads never quite cohering as much as you like. For every well observed, tense moment you get a throwaway gag that is quite jarring and the film prides itself on being almost wilfully obscure from an exposition point of view. Tyring to figure out the relationships becomes gradually less important as the more farcical elements get amped up. Best to just forget it and enjoy some of its well staged scenes, an awkward fight sequence gets special attention for its attempts to convey a really messy scuffle and how something like that might go in real life. For all its comedy moments that don’t quite work, the film has a chilly unsettling air that is interesting when contrasted against its on the surface fluff. Not essential to be seen but diverting enough while it lasts.
A highlight of the festival was a multi-media event in which La Jetee was screened alongside an exhibit of photographs from the film in the Wandesford Quay art gallery. This evening was completed with a performance by electronic musicians I AM THE COMOS. La Jetee itself, is an undisputed masterpiece, directed by Chris Marker (his only foray into Sci-Fi alas) and its tight story of fate and time travel mechanics is a disquieting creation. Filmed using only still photographs and voice over it shows that when a concept is strong enough,like Alaphaville no special effects are required and the clipped nature of its production adds intriguing layers to the piece. It makes the audience feel that we are, less seeing a narrative, than unearthing a horrific document of sorts that outlines a terrifying temporal cautionary tale. With language that finds an elegiac balance between technical and poetic La Jetee has earned its place as towering science fiction and it’s no surprise it gave a template to the still most satisfying film of Terry Gilliams career, “Twelve Monkeys” (sorry Brazil fans).
Persepolis, one of the most contemporary films at the festival this year, is an utterly charming coming of age tale about a girl named Marjane living under a strict Iranian regime and her curiosity about the world at large. Based on a graphic novel which had a distinctive look, thankfully retained for its cinematic translation, the story is an fascinating insight into the conservative traditions and violent past of Iran. Following Marjane’s attempts to explore the wider world, it encompasses a great many tones, the comedy is sweet natured and truthful but the film isn’t afraid to show just how bleak things can get for the central character, not just within Iran's borders but beyond in Europe as she makes a number of mistakes and ends up homeless. What emerges is a truthful, touching story that if played straight might not have been anywhere near as poignant. The cartoonish presentation allows many inspired flights of visual imagination, the narrative strains at the leash of standard storytelling devices and it’s this fluid integration between reality and the more abstract dreams and thoughts of its central character that makes it so affecting. For anyone who feels a stigma with regards to animation, this should be seen as sophisticated and mature film making.
Maturity was in short supply in the best film of the festival, Aki Kaurismäki’s 1992 take on the famous novel La Vie de Bohème, it follows three Bohemian artists, a writer, a painter and musician and their strange meandering adventures chasing fortune and romance. Rodolfo played by Kaurismäki regular
Matti Pellonpää gets the meat of the story, his relationship with a woman named Mimi giving the film its main emotional hook. Pellonpää had this ability to essay a perfect man child, an emotionally stunted adult who with just one laconic expression could convey a depth of feeling, be it love or longing. His awkward courtship and the genuinely sweet relationship that springs up contains some of the films best gags but it is in the unusual formation of bonds between the characters that the film really takes hold. There’s just no reason we should be so charmed by these individuals but each actor brings a sort of lived-in nuance to the role and it makes their interactions very effective. While episodic in nature and a bit too over long, it is surprising how much this gets under your skin and it’s all down to the subtlety Kaurismäki brings to the affair. Nothing is overstated, and while some longeurs are heavy with melancholy it never gets too grim and even at its bleakest the film has a winning edge and many laughs. It certainly wouldn’t suit everyones tastes but as an exercise in bohemian whimsy it packs a pretty big emotional punch.
A festival then which covered a myriad of tones all coated in eternal monochrome cool, it showed most definitely who indeed was hue when it comes to the possibilities of classic French cinema.
Mountain Dew- An Invite Only Modern Fable
There once was a Mountain Dwelling Recluse whose close friend was a little wolf named Cole. At some point every day he turned on his old fashioned, stained gramophone and would listen to beautiful music. Reverberating around his hovel, he would think about the joy of music in its endless variations and styles. Despite being a Recluse he had not always lived his life this way and in his past he made many good friends and after so long tasting the sweetness of solitude he decided on a change. It was long past time he brought the beautiful music he had loved so much to a selected crowd of friends and well wishers. And people from the far off land of some area named “Google". His noble wolf however would not be able to stay, as his dalliance with a Bear named Claire had produced an offspring. The little wolf went to mind his little cub. A talking and walking series of Fishbones offered his services on sound, this bony aquatic anomaly seemed to float between joints providing music and aural expertise. Crafty Canty, a local from a nearby territory where people went to feel good lost also pitched in to get this eclectic event off the ground. A fair Maire-den who is a SuperBlonde, was on hand for whatever else needed doing, while her father the legendary Jerry (whose Moustache was rarely stained with Latte) and her two other brothers, Ciaran and Shane, turned the location from family setting to festival ready. A Great Balloon Race was undertaken by various parties but the first to arrive got there far more quickly,Toby honest, by Karr. A Jollins Green (Cack-ie green) Giant also appeared, while a Chameleon came back to Life for the soiree. This was the power of the mighty mountain dew on the location. Ominous rain threatened on the day but spirits refused to be dampened as people travelled far and wide to the Mountain, led by an array of Grave Lanterns the Recluse had dug up to ensure no-one got lost in the silent musical darkness. Despite the presence of actual relations, the Recluse also extended his family to include more distant Relatives who sang sweet folky harmonies to all and sundry. Some other Man dola-ed out more harmony driven delight to the audience and it was clear looking at everyone, both Hymn and Her were Shaking and dancing in this case. Signal(s) were lost on phones (no-one could Ring Ian) but could be found on stage and is it any Young Wonder no-one cared about being without coverage, sealed off in this strange place? Next up was a sleepy rubber-band and like Elastic, oh Snap, they were good. Their inspired cover of You Only Live Twice resonated with the Recluse. He had now lived two ways, a solitary life and now one blessed with many new friends. "(Stevie) Gee, " he thought to himself, " Plenty of Mac-room in my life for many more of these events." The night was a huge success, a sort of watershed moment (when Water was still on that is) that united a disparate group in some rural excess. One band many looked forward to, in the end, could not play, one of its driving forces still loomed large over proceedings, lending his diverse talents to a few of the other performers. The band of his that didn’t play? Well I won’t make a Stink about it either way. It certainly didn't Alter any of the Hours the crowd had in a negative way. The final thought of the Recluse was that if he kept this sort of event going, year in and year out, well, he'd be on a pretty Sweet Jelly Roll. Authors Note: Congratulations again to Colm and his family on a great night. To many more!
