eilonwyhasemu: Image of pre-Raphaelite woman with dark hair. (Default)
Part 2 of wedding fluff based on Kiera Cass' Selection series, featuring three possible choices for Eadlyn Schreave. Inspired by the song "Nobody" on Nick Fradiani's album Hurricane. Part 1 with a different suitor is here. To protect you from spoilers, we'll start with the song.


Chef’s coat in heavy white satin is uniform. Shoulders pull back as Prince Gustav of Swendway is straightening blue sash, my chest across.

 Pysykää paikoillasi, teidän korkeutenne,” whispers new valet, my hair brushing hard. Stay still, your highness.

 Familiar words comfort. Your highness is not familiar.

 Your highness is not yet. Another few hours, Henri Jaakoppi is all I am being.

 <><><><><> 

 Pysymme yhdessä,” says Prince Gustav when I stumble over thanking him in limo. We stick together.Enter your cut contents here.

 Even in native language, speaking with princes is new. Valet, his gift is. Man-in-waiting, his gift is. Tutor, his gift is. People cannot be given, literally, but to me they would not come without his finding. Winning heart of Queen Eadlyn, I need one helper only. Being husband of Queen Eadlyn, I need army.

 Gratitude fills me. Tutor, valet, man, sunny day in Angeles, cheering crowds outside limo, beautiful bride—gifts overflow my heart. I only wish Eikko was here to be sharing.

 <><><><><> 

 Bishop pausing, halfway across sanctuary, hand raised. Prince looks to me. “Pysytkö mukana?”

 I answer before thinking if he means I follow his feet or his words.

 <><><><><> 

 Smile returns smile, almost always. I smile to parents in front row, each with translator, gift from Prince Gustav. I smile to Prince Ahren and Princess Camille of France, holding hands in other front row.

 I smile to Queen—no, Princess America, dabbing eyes, her son beside. She smiles but still is crying. “Pysytte lujana,” I want to say. Be strong. Joy gives strength but also demands it.

 In days since Queen Eadlyn proposed, my heart is swelling with joy, and my head sometimes is bursting. Names of royalty, easy. Major products of provinces of Illéa, not too hard. Stand for fittings, easy and boring. History of Illéa, not so easy, much excitement. Politics of Illéa, more difficult, with many words meaning almost same thing, but not quite.

 Kissing Eadlyn, easy as easy, yet making knees tremble and head swim.

 <><><><><> 

 Music always I know: Ode to Joy of Beethoven. Words are different but I hear more than I speak. Blue sky, green grass, all birds and creatures sing with joy to heaven.

 Cathedral doors open and little at end of aisle is Josie Woodwork, sister of Sir Kile, in blue. Solemn she is, starting. Lady Brice, wearing red, follows, then Eadlyn’s lady-in-waiting Neena, yellow dress glowing, her dark skin against. Josie skips, a hip-hop from one foot to another. Pysy tahdissa, I think to her. Keep the beat. Yet her joy I would not slow.

 When all three ladies on steps like Swendway flag, music is silent. So long silent, I count in heartbeats.

 Eadlyn comes.

 White she wears, like maiden, hands overflowing with daisies of Swendway. Father-prince in uniform, I barely see until he is putting Eadlyn’s hand in mine, for my bride is lovely as dawn and creation rejoices with trumpets as her eyes meet mine through lace veil.

 <><><><><> 

 Rising and kneeling, I follow touches on my elbow from Prince Gustav. Too distracting to translate every word, we decided, Eadlyn and I and bishop’s secretary. I do not wish guests to lose joy in forest of unknown words. There are many words—more than in my village, but in my village, church has no gold, no paintings, no statues.

 Bible I know in Finnish. In Finnish, I help choose words read. Jos minä ihmisten ja enkelein kielillä puhuisin, ja ei minulla olisi rakkautta, niin minä olisin kuin helisevä vaski tai kilisevä kulkuinen.

 If I with tongues of men or angels speak, but I do not have love, so I would become like sounding brass or clanging cymbal.

 <><><><><> 

 The words I must say, Eadlyn’s hand resting with trust in mine, I have in memory and in practice.

 “I, Henri Noel, take you, Eadlyn Helena Margarethe, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.”

 Veil-behind, her eyes are bright like stars.

 “I, Eadlyn Helena Margarethe, vie Henri Noel on mieheni. Lupaan olla totta sinulle hyvinä aikoina ja huonoina, ja sairauden terveys. Minä rakastan sinua ja kunnioittaa te kaikki elämäni päivinä.”

 Grammar limps like mine in English, vowels are hard not liquid, but I hear voice of angel.

 <><><><><> 

 Pysyä polvillaan,” Eadlyn my wife whispers as she rises from where we kneel together.

 Bishop speaks. “Are you, Henri Jaakoppi de Schreave, willing to take this oath?”

 “Am.”

 “Do you vow to uphold the laws and honor of Illéa, at home and abroad, with justice and mercy, in accordance with the will of our queen and the people?”

 What I know of Illéa is so little. Principal products of Midston are natural gas, goats, and cotton. Best maple syrup comes from Hudson. Legal age of adulthood is sixteen. Gregory Illéa funded revolution against Chinese occupation. Good King Maxon abolished castes and gave all education. Queen Eadlyn’s birthday is April sixteenth. Million facts crowd my brain, ten million still to learn.

 First time I am driven through streets of Angeles, people threw fruit at Eadlyn and usack.ect. They smile at me when I smile at thempalm trees, her. Lace falls, her face across. Her . Later is better. I see palm trees and sycamores, shiny towers and pink houses. In market, so much fruit, so many people at work. I smile at them and they smile back.

 “Promise to raise laws, I do not know them.” My words come out wrong, yet they are right. “All I promise, I have in my heart, to love Illéa’s people as I love their queen.”

 Eadlyn takes crown from bishop’s hands and sets it on my head.

 <><><><><> 

 Crown sits heavy by end of photos. Cheeks ache from smiling, yet every time I look at Eadlyn, I smile.

 In limo, she rests head on my shoulder. “We’re married, Henri.”

 Torrent of words follows. I know one in three, but I feel in hands and heart what Eadlyn means. “Aion pysyä ikuisesti,” I say. I will stay with you forever.

eilonwyhasemu: Image of pre-Raphaelite woman with dark hair. (Default)
 For over a year, I’ve been intermittently obsessed with the painting in the background of this photo (from 19′s Kristin Collin) from when Nick Fradiani's video for “Get You Home” was shot. 

It’s a cheeky twist on the “sweetheart sipping” trope, which usually involves sharing an ice cream soda. But this painting is at Virgin Hotels Chicago, where everything is required to be cheeky. That’s… not a complaint. I sort of want to live there (in a pet-friendly room, of course).

The painting is called “Love Drug,” and the artist is Nina Palomba. In an interview on the Virgin Hotels site, she talks about creating art… let’s see…

1. She’s from Wyoming.

2. Yes, she does a lot of “street art,” but it’s not graffiti because the property owners want it there. (But she does paint with spray cans!)

3. The Virgin Hotels paintings are about “asking someone you’re swooning over on a date.” This is so cute and very much in line with the Virgin Hotels’ ethic that its dining, drinking, and hanging-out spots are supposed to be a (cheeky) fantasy about having the best date ever.

4. She listens to pop music while she paints. She mentions the Spice Girls, so I think we’ve got to include the song that Nick has mentioned in an interview as a guilty pleasure. <=things I know off the top of my head

BUT WE’RE ALL WAITING FOR THE “GET YOU HOME” VIDEO, are we not?

Well, not literally waiting, since it was released in the spring of 2016. But waiting for me to get around to including it in the post. First, check out Nina Palomba’s Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/theninapalomba/

Now… the “Get You Home” video, shot entirely at Virgin Hotels Chicago, so you get tons of glorious hotel design (this place is chic, as well as cheeky – did I mention that I want to live there?). If you’re off-put by a teeny bit of Nick’s bare shoulders or the gorgeous Michelle Hicks in lingerie, this is not-safe for you (and if you’re looking for Nick-flesh than a flash of bare shoulders… just follow his IG, as sometimes he swims, that’s all I got for ya).

 


This is a re-post from one of my Tumblr blogs.

eilonwyhasemu: Image of pre-Raphaelite woman with dark hair. (Default)
 

As I am, at this moment, crazy in love with Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness’ “So Close,” so as part of the New Music Friday thing of giving some space to acts that are associated with Nick Fradiani in some vaguely plausible way… look, AMcMitW discovered himself to me when he played the Big Summer Show in Modesto, California, in June/July 2015, on the same bill as Nick. <=things I know off the top of my head

Three big reasons I adore this song:

1. The airplane metaphor. The VISUALS of just the first verse are awesomely bizarre and striking, and then it sticks around for the “so close to taking off, so close to going nowhere.”

2. The angsty electronic dance track. I love this kind of thing with Yaz and Erasure and the lighter Depeche Mode and Pet Shop Boys and basically everybody who was moody yet danceable in the late 1980s, especially if Vince Clark was involved. Pure anguish – yet with a beat you can dance to. Oh yes.

3. The wordplay, which was tantalizing enough that I had to look up the proper Greek scheme that applies to the bits I like. There are two, and I lucked into both being in the A’s. Anadiplosis is the repetition of “so close” at the end of the phrase “we were so close,” followed by the beginning of the phrase “so close to taking off.” Antanaclasis is using “so close” to imply emotional closeness, then using the slightly different sense that means “almost happened” or “so proximate in time.”

Antanaclasis (repetition of a word but with different meanings) is a big thing I like about Nick’s “All on You,” where the meaning of the key phrase shifts from “all your fault” to “all over you.” Here we go, and then I’ll chatter a little more about Andrew McMahon.

Anyway, the Modesto show – and a whole bunch where McMahon was on the same bill with Nick, to the point that I really wanted them to tour together – was in the era of “Cecilia and the Satellite,” which came off an album I liked immensely. My favorite song seems to be “High Dive,” which is just the essence of a certain kind of California autumn night, both for the imagery and the lovely distant wistfulness of the vocals on “headlights in the driveway.”

 

The essential Californiosity may be the line about “going 80 in a 45.” But I’d still argue that “headlights in the driveway” is vocally at the temperature of a warm September night when the leaves on the trees haven’t quite turned yet. “Dancing to someone else’s song” is arguably the saddest summary of a non-attainable or no-longer-attainable person from a musician’s POV.

Anyway, I was looking for video from that Modesto show (there never was much for the early acts, IIRC) and came across this curiosity from way back in 2009, when Andrew McMahon and Matt Nathanson got the urge to cover Bruce Springsteen’s “I’m on Fire” as a duet, with smoky vocals and inexorable piano.

I suppose if we’re going to be fair, I’ve gotta include Nick’s Springsteen cover, “Because the Night.” Unfortunately, I can’t find the really excellent, intense version from the 2016 Guilford Fair (if anybody ever gets the notion of selling soundboard recordings from full-band shows, I am so “there” that I’m drawing the damn map), so we’ll have to settle for the less-developed but still pretty compelling American Idol performance… as a video of someone’s TV. We’re rockin’ it low-fi here.

This is a repost from one of my Tumblr blogs.

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