#Boston Beer Co.

[auraeseer]

Truly a hard sel . . .

[ofstoriesandstardust]

the one with the dress, the dinner, and the drinks

note: i found this dress on a pinterest (in the yellow color, if the link doesn’t work) and after talking to @gretagerwigsmuse (and subsequently @struggling-with-delia) i felt like i wouldn’t be doing Sunshine justice if i didn’t write this. enjoy. 

warnings: implied body insecurities, food mentions, alcohol mentions, mentions of financial insecurity, i had to do research on beer for this, this got away from me

In hindsight, you understand how Maverick had missed all the signs, had missed all the holes in your story. 

How, given the way you had behaved all night, Maverick had mistaken your nerves for butterflies, commenting how it was so nice that even after years of being together you and Bradley were still chasing each other, still falling in love with each other everyday. 

You pad down the stairs, tan heels in hand as you try not to think about the sweat on your palms. 

Tonight, you were meeting Bradley’s Uncle Ice for the first time. In the days since you’d first come to San Diego, Bradley and his friends had described Tom “Iceman” Kazansky to you as nothing short of a legend. Tom had been the one to make the reservation, a nice restaurant by the beach. 

You’d Googled it beforehand, eyes scanning the menu to figure out what you’d eat. You hadn’t missed the 3 dollar signs by the name, the 4.5 stars. You hadn’t missed how it was seated beachfront, inside one of the more expensive hotels in the area. You hadn’t missed how the cheapest thing on their menu, all their sides, started out at eleven dollars. You certainly hadn’t missed that the most expensive thing on the menu was the prime rib steak at sixty-nine dollars. 

If you hadn’t been so nervous about this dinner, you probably would’ve mentioned it to Bradley, expecting a joke about the number amount like he was 13. Still, you were both adults now, and you knew he’d question why you were even looking at the menu in the first place. He’d probably tease you for over-thinking it so much. 

You didn’t even dare click on the tab that would’ve taken you their cocktails and the beers they had on tap, knowing you’d just drink water. Alcohol tonight was probably a bad idea, with all your nerves, never mind the fact that if their sides were eleven (that still sounded absurd). 

And then, just after you’d gotten out of the shower, you’d looked hurriedly, wondering if it was expensive as you thought it was. Your jaw had dropped when the prices started hitting sixty dollars and you’re pretty sure you stopped breathing when the prices started creeping up towards a hundred. 

You had still yet to unlearn the anxiety around spending money, knowing you could afford to go eat at nice places like this once in a while. You’d still yet to unlearn mentally counting every penny you spent, unsure if you’d be able to pay your bills for the month. You’d still yet to unlearn the fear that came with living paycheck to paycheck, knowing everything counted. Even years later, you still feared something breaking, something needing a repair, having to buy a new outfit, never knowing if you had enough money in the bank for it. 

Your co-workers still teased you thrifting your clothes, saying you must be environmentally conscious to search for business causal in places like Goodwill. You didn’t know how to explain to them that it was because you still couldn’t bring yourself to step foot in a store more expensive than a DollarTree, afraid of the price tags.

How do explain the anxiety of going shopping, knowing you’ll have to put everything back on the rack? How do you explain the years of having to turn down invites and being left out because you couldn’t afford it?

Which is why, when you’d bought this dress for this dinner, you were nervous. You’d paced the floor of your apartment back in Boston as you thought about buying it. It was 50% off, you rationalized, and you wanted to make a good impression on these people. You could afford it, despite what your inner 19-year-old was screaming at you, and selfishly, a part of you hoped that maybe a nicer dress would finally catch Bradley’s attention. 

And it had pockets.

Bradley’s sitting on the couch, eyes trained on the Padres game on the television. He’s wearing a nice polo with blue jeans, his arm resting on the back of the couch. You don’t miss the way his biceps look in this position, bulging against the seam of the sleeves. You have to admit that he looks good, you’d be a fool to miss it, and there’s every part of you that wants to turn around and lock yourself in the guest room. 

It wasn’t that Bradley made you feel small, because Bradley Bradshaw never made anyone feel small, at least not intentionally. It was just that he looked so... good, and you looked so... you. A stable job and income didn’t change the fact that you still didn’t really know how to dress yourself, how to put on make-up, years of not being able to afford it making it feel silly to learn. 

It felt silly to try, knowing what kind of girls Bradley could get. 

Girls like Natasha. 

You cleared your throat and Bradley’s attention shifts to you. His eyes look over you and suddenly, you want to shrink back. Too much?

Always too much.

“I can go get a cardigan if you think-” 

“No.” He interrupts, shaking his head. “No, you look great.” You nod, swallowing. 

“Do you think- do you think you could tie the straps on the back?” You ask quietly, stepping a little farther into the living room. He nods, standing up from the couch. You turn, pulling your hair over one shoulder. His fingers brush against your spine as he laces up the back of the dress, fingers nimbly tying the bow. You hold your breath as he works, trying not to think about how intimate the moment feels, how much you want Bradley to pull you close. 

-

Pete, Maverick he insisted you call him, beats both you and Bradley and Tom to the restaurant. He’s quick to stand up from their table as the hostess walks you to it to give Bradley a tight hug. You hold yourself back, debating if you should sit down as you take in the beachfront view. 

As the hostess patiently waits for the two to finish up their greetings, you decide to sit, figuring Bradley will follow when he’s ready. Pete seems startled you sat before he could greet you but he doesn’t mention it as Bradley sits down next to you. 

“Welcome to JRDN at Tower23, can I get you anything to drink while you wait for the other member of your party?” She asks, handing Bradley a menu. He tries to share it with you but you just smile at the woman. 

“Water for me will be fine, thank you.” 

Bradley’s eyes flicker over to you in surprise. “I’ll start with he uh... Stone Buenaveza, please.” 

If you recalled form the three different Google searches, that was the salt and lime lager.

“Okay, and will that be a pint or 20 ounce for you tonight?” 

“Let’s start with the pint.” He says as the waitress writes it down. 

“Alright, Stone Buenaveza and the water. That’ll be right out.” 

“Where’s Uncle Ice?” Bradley starts as he closes the menu, leaning back in your chair. You’re attention is drawn from the two men to the people on the beach as the waves crash on the shore. 

“Work meeting ran late and then he hit traffic.” Bradley nods as his arm moves to rest on the back of your chair. 

“Don’t I know it? Crossing the Coronado bridge out of North Island is always hell.” 

Maverick shakes his head. “Only gotten worse over the years.” 

“How long were you waiting on us?” 

Pe- Maverick shrugs. “Not long, maybe only a couple of minutes.” 

The hostess appears again. “Here’s the Stella Artois here for you sir,” She says setting the glass down in front of Maverick. “-and the Stone Buenaveza for you, and then the water for the lady.” 

The woman has barely disappeared around the corner when another hostess appears, a man following behind her. Both Bradley and Maverick stand, and it feels like the wind is being knocked form your lungs as you realize this is Uncle Ice. 

The man is much more intimidating in person, although you aren’t sure if that has anything to do with the stories Bradley and his friends have told you over the last couple of days. 

He smiles as he brings Bradley into a tight hug. “Hey Baby Goose.” 

“Hey Uncle Ice.” Bradley’s voice is muffled into the man’s shoulder. 

Tom lets Bradley go and pats Maverick’s shoulder as he passes. “Pete.” He says with a fond sigh as Mav shoots him a grin. Tom sits down in the chair next to Pete, closest to the railing that separates your group from the beach. You wipe your palms on your dress, suddenly nervous again, as Tom looks to you. 

“Uncle Ice, this is my wife.” 

“Sunshine.” Maverick teases, a shit-eating grin on his face that suddenly disappears with a wince. 

You think Bradley might’ve kicked his uncle under the table.

Tom offers you a firm smile, reaching his hand out. “Nice to meet you.” You extend your hand, shaking his. 

“You too.” He turns your hand over, eyeing the ring you’d stuck on. 

“Surprised you didn't give her Carole’s ring.” 

You freeze, eyes flickering over to Bradley as Toms till holds your hand in his firm grip. 

You didn't even know he had his Mom’s ring. 

“It was a family heirloom.” You say suddenly, the words coming out of your mouth before you can stop them. “It was my grandmother’s, before she passed. My grandparents didn’t have a lot of money when they got married, so this was the first ring they were actually able to afford. It was important to me that it was the ring I wore because Bradley and I didn’t have a lot of money when we got married.” 

It’s all bullshit that’s coming out of your mouth but it seems to satisfy Tom, who lets your hand go. Bradley reaches out underneath the table to squeeze your knee in a silent thanks. 

He hums, opening the menu. He orders a chardonnay you wouldn’t even begin to be able to pronounce. Pete nudges him, offering him a grin. “Same old Tom Kazansky, always getting the most expensive drink on the menu.” 

“Is it?” Bradley asks, looking through his menu as the hostess leaves. 

“It’s a hundred and fifty dollars.” You recite, knowing exactly where on the menu the wine had been. All the men turn to you and you resist the urge to sink down in the chair. “I’m guessing.” 

“You Googled this place before we came, didn’t you?” Bradley asks, narrowing his eyes. You shrug. “Little miss picky eater over here always did that in college, searching up any place before we went there.”

You had always let everyone think you were a picky eater, especially towards seafood (which for some godforsaken reason seemed more expensive then everything else), because the alternative was explaining to them you couldn’t afford to go. You had only let one person know that in high school, the night of prom, and you wouldn’t deal with the shame and guilt that came from someone else paying for your meal out of pity and obligation ever again. 

You know that if you say anything now, Tom will see all the holes in your story and understand. 

He’s looking at you like he already knows. 

“Well, I’m sorry Tom made the reservation for a seafood place.” Pete jokes and Bradley laughs as you try to let the tension release from your shoulder. Tom’s still watching you carefully and you try not wither under his gaze. 

A waitress appears, cutting off the conversation. “Hi all, my name is Rebecca and I’ll be your server for tonight. Do you guys need more time with the menu or do you know what I can get started for you?” 

Tom hums again. “I know what I want. I’ll have the prime rib eye steak.” 

Pete snorts, probably because it is once again, the most expensive thing on the menu. “I’ll have the pork chop.”

“I’ll have the ahi tuna nachos.” Bradley says, closing his menu and handing it to the waitress. 

“I’ll just have the caesar salad.’ You say, handing the waitress your menu. 

“Okay, and would you like grilled chicken or salmon on that?” 

You shake your head. “No thanks.”

“Picky eater, I told you.” Bradley mutters and your heart clenches, not having the heart to tell him that chicken would’ve been another six dollars, the salmon an extra twelve. The salad was already sixteen dollars, the cheapest thing on the menu. 

The conversation falls silent at the table. Bradley nudges your knee with his own and you look over at him as the two men watch you both. He leans closer to you, lips hovering over your ear. “Relax, you’re doing fine.” He says, right hand coming out to squeeze one of your hands, in assurance. 

Pete clears his throat. “So remind me where the two of you met again? UVA right?” 

[jerzwriter]

No Cure...

Book: Open Heart (Book 2 "Reset" timeline)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Kaycee)

Rating: Teen

Words: 1037

Summary: Ethan leaves work early one day and runs into Kaycee at an unexpected place. He's impressed with a project she's undertaken, but when he walks away he realizes, there is no cure.

A/N: Thank you to @kyra75 and ananon for these two prompt requests (one two). I combined them and was SO happy to get out of my Ethan/Kaycee slump! So appreciated guys!

Yeah, I sort of mixed in my TLOU obsession lol it doesn't fit the timeline, but I only mention the fungus outbreak, not the show, so I'm going with it. lol I hope you enjoy it! I did not have a chance to edit extensively - so be kind :)

@choicesmonthlychallenge Prompt: Slow Burn, Holding Hands

Stepping out onto the busy Boston street, Ethan Ramsey took a deep breath. A self-professed workaholic, he would never admit how refreshing it felt to leave work a little early today. Not that he was truly leaving. Heading home to pack for an early flight, he knew his evening would be spent preparing for a keynote address he’d be making tomorrow at Perelman. Still, seeing the sunshine without the benefit of the thick glass windows between them was a pleasure he knew he didn’t enjoy frequently enough.

It was a lovely day, and he was delighted to live close enough that his commute home relied solely on his two feet. The crowds didn’t seem to bother him today. In fact, he may have nodded and smiled at a passer-by or two. Catching himself, he decided to reel that in. It could be a co-worker or, heaven forbid, an intern with whom he wasn’t well acquainted. He couldn’t have news of him being pleasant getting back to the hospital. He did have a reputation to uphold.

He turned down a familiar street and opened a rackety old door, the sound of the bells on the hinge announcing his arrival didn’t turn a single head inside Donahue’s, but it all but said welcome home to Ethan. His eyes blinked to adjust to the dark bar; mid-day stops here while the sun still shone brightly in the sky weren’t all that common, but this was the time he was leaving today. There was no way he was skilling his ritual that divided his work and personal lives.

Sitting on his regular stool at the nearly empty bar, he lamented that he couldn’t get here at this time more frequently. The familiar scent of stale beer was almost enjoyable when partnered with the low hum of soft jazz emitting from the speakers in the nearly empty room. A pleasant departure from the raucous crowds and their heinous jukebox selections that were present on a typical night. Maybe he should make leaving work a bit early a more common event?

“Hey, hey, hey!” A familiar baritone sang as Ethan’s regular drink was placed before him. “Not used to seeing you here so early. Don’t tell me you got fired?”

Ethan chuckled at his old friend, an only partially facetious smirk on his lips. “As if they could survive without me, Reggie.”

“You never know,” his friend snickered as he wiped down the mahogany bar. His neck stretched toward the back of the room, where a lone figure sat hunched over a pile of books in a corner booth. “I think some of these young ones may just be able to replace you one day, Dr. Ramsey.”

Ethan’s eyes followed Reggie’s motions, and his face went pale when he saw a tuft of blonde hair buried in books, her hands feverishly taking notes as the glass of ginger-ale at her side sat woefully neglected. 

“It’s her day off….” Ethan said, not realizing he was talking out loud. “What is she doing here alone at this hour?”

“Got me,” Reggie shrugged with a shit-eating grin. “You know her much better than I do, after all.”

Uncomfortably clearing his throat, Ethan returned to his drink, ignoring the bartender’s comment. He already knew he was lying when he told himself he wouldn’t interrupt or acknowledge her at all. She was clearly busy, and he was there for one drink before he went home to prepare. He wouldn’t so much as make eye contact, he swore. Which only made him feel more like a fool five minutes later when he appeared at her table, fresh ginger ale in his hand.

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” he smiled sheepishly, “but the ice in your drink looks like it melted an hour ago, and it’s barely touched. So, I thought you could use a fresh one.”

Kayce knew his voice at the first syllable he spoke, but she still couldn't contain her delight when she looked up from her book, and her eyes confirmed what she already knew. Her eyes were bright, cheeks rosy… she looked like a child who was just offered their favorite treat before dinner. As lovely a sight as she was, Ethan diverted his eyes. Partly because seeing her this way warmed his heart more than he cared to admit, partly because he didn’t feel he warranted that reaction… not from Kaycee… not after all that had transpired between them. 

But where Ethan felt troubled, Kaycee felt none of that at all. She happily accepted the fresh drink, pushing the now stale earlier version to the side.

“Thank you, Dr. Ramsey. What a pleasant surprise! I wouldn’t expect to see you here at this hour of the day.”

She gestured for him to sit on the bench across from her, and even though he swore to himself he wouldn’t, one motion of her hand had him succumbing to her will without thought.

“I’m leaving a bit early today… I have the speech at Perelman tomorrow….”

“Ah! My alma mater!” Kaycee beamed. “I almost wish I could go.”

“That’s right, you graduated from there,” he pretended that was news to him as if he didn’t have every bit of her history he was blessed to know committed to his mind. For all the engagements he had turned down this year, deep down, he wondered if Kaycee’s connection to Perelman hadn’t subconsciously led him to accept this invitation. “Perhaps if I go again….”

He started, but Kaycee smiled and cut him off.  “Perhaps.”

She knew it wasn’t true. He wouldn’t be extending an offer for her to join him, not after the last time he had and how disastrously that had gone. Miami alone might not have precluded it, but everything that followed did. This whole reset was his idea and his alone. He knew how she felt about him… at least, she assumed he did. He was the best diagnostician in the world, after all, he had to be able to read her like a book. She was nowhere near as astute as he, and she could tell how much he was fighting his feelings anytime he looked her way. What Kaycee didn’t know is Ethan still had the edge on her for all things medical, though she’d catch up to him in time. But regarding matters of the heart, Dr. MacClennan was light years ahead of her medical idol.

“Why are you here? Buried in books, no less.  It’s your day off, and I would have expected you to be doing something more pleasant.”

“What’s not pleasant about this?”  She asked.  “I wanted to continue a project I’m working on, but the apartment is a little noisy, and I didn’t want to be in the hospital.  Donahues… it almost feels like home… and when it’s quiet like this, and I have Reggie here to watch over me, it’s a delightful place to spend my afternoon off.”

Ethan tried to contain a slight, approving grin.  He understood exactly what she had meant, and Reggie had looked over him many a day when he was a resident.  Sometimes it amazed him how much they…. No…. he pushed the thought from his head. 

“Ehrm, so what is it you’re working on? Something for the team?”

“Not exactly,” she corrected.  “Remember that group of kids that came in from the McKinley School the other day?”

“Yes, the ones who left gum wrappers all over my desk?”

Kaycee rolled her eyes.  “It was one gum wrapper Ethan, left by one child.  And tell me you wouldn’t have done that in third grade.”

The sheepish grin on his face was all the confirmation she needed, and now she diverted her eyes, uncomfortable with the warmth rising in her chest.  

“Continue,” Ethan encouraged.

“Well, a couple of the kids were talking about that zombie movie that’s all the rage right now.  They were terrified, thinking it could happen.  I told them science fiction is always more fiction than science, but they weren’t convinced, and a few were genuinely scared.  So, I’m putting something together that their teacher could incorporate into a science lesson showing cordyceps cannot transfer to humans.”

Ethan was impressed; he stared at her in awe of her innovation, her desire to keep children grounded in science, and mostly, her compassion at wanting to put their minds at ease.  But when words escaped him, Kacyee assumed he thought it was a foolish idea.  Swirling her pen nervously in her hair, she returned to her work.

“Anyway, I guess you could say it’s silly, but….”

“It’s not silly at all,” he insisted. “Honestly, I’m impressed.”

“You are?”

“Yes! You’re increasing your understanding of the topic. It’s helping improve our woefully underperforming science educational programs… you’re showing how science can be applied and maybe inspiring some bright young minds to pursue a future in the field in the process.  That’s not even considering how kind it is of you to want to alleviate their fears.  Kids today have enough to worry about and don’t need silly stuff to add to the plate.”

“Aww, Dr. Ramsey! You do care!” She teased.

“About you? Always… er, eh.. your medical career and innovation… that is.. of course.”

“Of course,” Kaycee said, hiding a smile.

“We have a budget to assist with local school programs.  Perhaps you could work with Baz and create a lab project  – something the kids could do hands-on.  I’d happily approve time off for the two of you to oversee that.”

“We could! That would be incredible! I’d love that!”

He nodded, smiling brightly at her enthusiastic response.  “Then consider it done. We’ll make it happen.”

“That’s such a great idea! I’m really impressed,” Kaycee joked. “You know, you’re smarter than you look, Ramsey!”

“Oh, really,” he laughed. “This is what’s convinced you of that?”

She raised her eyes to his bashfully with a little shrug. 

“Now, was that a compliment for my intelligence, or an insult for my looks?”

Kaycee lifted the ginger ale Ethan had brought to her lips, taking a long gulp.  You would have thought it was much more potent as it gave her the confidence to answer his question.

“Honestly, I think it’s abundantly clear that I’m highly impressed by both.”

Ethan’s eyes flickered over to hers, the air charged between him, and he felt his inhibitions slipping.

“Careful, MacClennan, it sounds like you’re flirting with me.”

Kaycee bit her lip, then smiled… what’s the worst that could happen?

“Well… I have been trying to do that for a while now,” she said, reaching over the table and placing her hand on his.  “I’m happy to see you’re noticing.”

Ethan opened his mouth, but words failed him as Kaycee's eyes refused to look away from his.  She smiled softly. He may have been silent, but he didn’t retrieve his hand, allowing them both to sit and basque in the overwhelming pleasure that simple gesture brought them both.

“I… I just think that….” Ethan fumbled, but Kaycee did not.

“What I wouldn’t do to have you on that FMRI now,” she purred, satisfied with the bashful grin he offered.  “In fact, maybe that can be our next lesson… for the kids?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” he cleared his throat loudly.  He looked around the bar, and when he was confident Reggie was the only other person there, he consciously decided to let his hand remain. Emboldened, Kaycee squeezed his hand tighter, hoping that small gesture would convey all the emotion she carried for him in her heart.

“It’s OK, and I wouldn’t want to subject the children to… us. Med school students, perhaps, elementary school, nah.  Let them keep their innocence.”  

The look of longing on Ethan’s face was palpable, and Kaycee knew precisely what would come next if he just would say the word… then, he pulled his hand away.

“Anyway… I should head home and begin to pack.”

 “Of course,” she sighed, finding it impossible to hide the disappointment on her face.  “But when you’re back… maybe you can help me with the project… for the kids… it could be… fun?”

“I’m sure it will be,” he said, standing up from the booth.  “But you should work on it with Baz.  Why don’t you reach out to him about it tomorrow?”

“I will,” she swallowed, lifting her glass once again.  “Safe travels tomorrow, Ethan, and thank you for… for everything.”

She watched Ethan until he walked out the front door, never once catching Reggie shaking his head with disappointment.  It took some time before she could gather her thoughts and return to her work, only one thought on her mind as she did.

No, fungus won’t take over your brain, kids.  You don’t have to worry about that. Fungus won’t take over your heart or your mind, but love… I make no promises about what love might do to you… and it seems once you’re infected, there is no cure.

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[moochilatv]

MOTHICA presents: Another High

Great storytell and the music video feets perfectly

“Another High” is a poignant and relatable narrative about the cycles of addiction. She shares, “When I stop one habit, I find new vices to indulge in to keep my mind busy. Some are definitely healthier than others. And I always joke that I wish I was addicted to exercising and sunshine instead of the things that are bad for me.”

MOTHICA is known for her confessional songwriting and genre-defying musical releases that blend dark pop with rock, synthwave, goth and electronica for a mesmerizing sonic fusion.

New album KISSING DEATH

KISSING DEATH is a testament to MOTHICA’s artistic evolution. The album’s release is accompanied by an official music video for the song “Another High” which will be the focus track around the release. “Another High” is a poignant and relatable narrative about the cycles of addiction. She shares, “When I stop one habit, I find new vices to indulge in to keep my mind busy. Some are definitely healthier than others. And I always joke that I wish I was addicted to exercising and sunshine instead of the things that are bad for me.”

Tour 2024:

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UK/EU

September 16th - Kavka, Antwerp, Belgium (Low Tickets)

September 18th- Melkweg, Amsterdam, Netherlands (Low Tickets)

September 19th- Reeperbahn Festival, Hamburg, Germany (Low Tickets)

September 20th- Hole44, Berlin, Germany (Low Tickets)

September 21st- Luxor, Cologne, Germany (SOLD OUT)

September 24th- Backstage, Paris, France (Low Tickets)

September 26th- The Dome, London, UK (SOLD OUT)

September 27th- Gorilla, Manchester, UK (SOLD OUT)

September 28th- King Tuts, Glasgow, UK (SOLD OUT)

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USA Tour:

October 12th- San Bernardino, CA @ Glen Helen Amphitheater MAYHEM FESTIVAL

November 4th- Crescent Ballroom, Phoenix, AZ

November 6th- Antone’s, Austin, TX

November 7th- Club Dada, Dallas, TX

November 9th- Masquerade Purgatory, Atlanta, GA (SOLD OUT)

November 11th- A&R Bar, Columbus, OH

November 13th- The Sinclair, Boston, MA

November 14th- The Foundry, Philadelphia, PA

November 15th- Songbyrd, Washington, DC (SOLD OUT)

November 17th- Gramercy Theater, New York City, NY

November 20th- Loving Touch, Detroit, MI

November 22nd- Bottom Lounge, Chicago, IL

November 23rd- Delmar Hall, St. Louis, MO

November 24th- Beer City Music Hall, Oklahoma City, OK

November 26th- Meow Wolf, Denver, CO

November 27th- Soundwell, Salt Lake City, UT

November 29th- Mission Theater, Portland, OR

November 30th- Neumos, Seattle, WA

December 3rd- Goldfield Trading Post, Sacramento, CA

December 4th- Bottom Of The Hill, San Francisco, CA

[mattnben-bennmatt]

Matt Damon's interview w/ Film Scouts (November/December 1997)

Matt Damon on "Good Will Hunting"

By Henri Béhar

-

There's a unique freshness to Matt Damon. Fresh face, fresh voice. Strong impact. Made you lurch for the Courage Under Fire press kit to find out who this guy was who stole every scene he was in from Denzel Washington. One should have known when Francis Coppola gave the lead part in John Grisham's the Rainmaker to Matt who? Think of the Godfather, think of the Outsiders and Rumble Fish; if anything, Coppola has the keenest eye in the business for budding talent.

With best pal Ben Affleck, Boston-born-and-bred Matt Damon, 23, comes to Gus Van Sant's Good Will Hunting as a double-threat: lead actor AND scriptwriter. Having just wrapped Steven Spielberg's Private Ryan, he recently took some time off from his preparation for John Dahl's Parameters, which co-stars Edward Norton, Martin Landau and possibly John Turturro, to sit down and chat with us. Excerpts.

On Fame. I like it. I don't think I'm addicted to what is involved with it. I really could take it or leave it. So far, I'd have to say I don't quite know what you're talking about. Honestly. I haven't met a single person, I have not walked down the street where somebody stopped me and said, "Oh, you're Matt Damon." Not for a movie, not for a magazine cover, not for nothing. Which is normal since not that many people know my work, and which works fine for me: I want to be in a position where I can go wherever the character I'm researching is supposed to be from. That's what I'm doing in New York right now. The nice thing is I'm in a position now where they're actually paying for me to do it. I mean, they're putting me during the time when I research, which I used to have to go out of pocket. Courage Under Fire I did and The Rainmaker I did.

What was great about The Rainmaker was when I was bartending, people didn't know who I was. It would have gotten in the way if they knew who I was. So yes, in that sense, if both movies do well — that's a lot of if's — my job might get hindered. But I hope I can find a way, 'cause that's what's most important.

But it also affords you a lot of opportunities. When we did Courage Under Fire, Denzel Washington was allowed to lead tank battles. They really gave him command of these mock tank exercises and strategy lessons. I don't think he would have gotten that if he wasn't who he was. So there's a trade-off. But worse things can happen, you know, there are worse injustices in the world than my not being able to research anonymously.

On getting almost emaciated for Courage Under Fire It evolved essentially because there was a light at the end of the tunnel. There was a time limit. Given that, the person that outlined the diet for me didn't think I was going to be able to stick to it: it was too difficult. When I stuck to it, people got worried. "You have to eat, you have to be fit, you really have to be prepared." And I refused to do so. "Why eat? I've come this far, I'm not going to stop now."

At the end of movie I started eating chocolate cake. That's how I got sick. Literally, the day after I shot the scene with Denzel Washington walking on the lake, I started eating four or five chocolate cakes, twelve beers, four steaks, tons of pasta. And my stomach expanded... I had to go on medication, for dizziness, lightheadedness, stress, post-traumatic stress disorder... I've been off the medication for a couple of weeks now - after two years! That taught me a lot about what I can and can't do, what I should and shouldn't do. But I liked the role and I worked for the role. It cost a lot to get there and I'm glad that I stuck with it.

On his performances. I'm always pleased with my performances because I know that I couldn't do it any better. I always try my hardest, give it all I've got. If people don't like it, then they don't like it, that's totally up to them. But I'll never have a regret about it. And Good Will Hunting is a lot about that, about not having regrets in life. If it's putting on a lot of weight, if it's going to bar-tend or.., whatever it is, fine if you don't like it. You just do whatever it takes to get to the truth of the character. I don't think there's any length that you should not go to do that. That's what we do for a living.

On being best friends with, but also in constant competition with fellow actor-writer Ben Affleck. Well, we've had rises and falls that weren't necessarily meteoric but the word was "Us". If one of us was working and we had enough for both of us to go through life, great. The money was basically there to be shared. Ben would be in a series, like eight episodes, he made a little money, great. I did something, I made a little money, great. We're always looking out for each other. We go out for the same parts all the time but it's never really come down to a director saying, "It's either you or Ben." It would be more like, " It's Brad Pitt or you." But you always root for your own guy. I hung out with a bunch of actors and I always felt that if I don't get it, I hope someone in the group does, because I thought they were the best guys around and they deserved it.

On co-writing, part one. There are a bunch of different ways to do it. We really didn't have a formula. There were a lot of times when Ben and I just improv'd. We'd take a tape-recorder, put it down and just start improvising. Eventually we might come up with for a half-hour improv out of which we might have fifteen seconds that were good. And we'd be looking through the tape and "Yeah yeah yeah! That's it! That one! Write that down." And maybe a scene would start from that line.

It also depended upon our work schedules. At one point, I ran out of money and I took a job that ended up being a wonderful job, a TNT movie called The Good Old Boys that Tommy Lee Jones directed. The bad part was I was stuck in Alpine, Texas. There was one fax machine in the entire town run by this Iranian guy named Rajou. I used to go and he would send my fax away for me. He drove a Lexus and it was the only Lexus in West Texas. And his license plate read "Rajou". Anyway, Rajou was our middle man for our script for a few months there.

So Ben would fax me scenes, I'd look at them and I'd make notes. It would give me ideas, I'd send that back to Ben, Ben would read it... You know what I mean? And then we'd call each other on the phone and say, "Okay, that worked, this didn't work. — All right, now I see from this scene we needed this other scene... — Okay, I'll work on that. I'll take a shot on the set tomorrow, they're shooting a scene I'm not in, I'll have a couple of hours to do just that and I'll fax it to you at the end of the day." That's basically how it went.

On co-writing as opposed to going it alone. Well, two things: In the first place, writing came out of frustration, 'cause I didn't get a job. Two: co-writing was the only option. I had written forty pages for a class and I didn't know what to do with them. Didn't know where to go, didn't have the discipline to sit in front of the computer and wait for something to happen.

I showed it to Ben who, I think, is one of the brightest guys that I know, we have similar sensibilities — and he had the same reaction: He liked it but didn't know where to go with it. We sat on it for a year. And then it started coming. And it was through conversation that the movie kind of came out. Had I written it alone, it would have never gone beyond the forty pages.

On Gus Van Sant. Oh, man. Just that edge that we see in his films! All actors want to work with him because of the moment-to-moment honesty that he gets out of interaction with people. Whatever they are, he always has a great idea as to where to put the camera, and he gets good performances out of the actors because he shoots around them. He rehearses them, then very calmly decides where to put the camera, in a very unobtrusive place. It's just amazing. I felt like my acting process — whatever you want to call it — was nurtured by him. I would very much like to work with him again.

The fact that Ben and I had written the script didn't interfere at all. As a matter of fact, when it all started, there was almost a ceremonial handoff of the project. We said, "Look man, you are the director. This was our baby, it's yours now, go and do whatever it is you have to do." Despite the fact that Gus is a very communal director in that he wants everyone's opinions, which makes you feel you're part of the team, there can only be one chef in the kitchen when it comes to making a movie. Movies are the last great dictatorship. They need that. They need a strong voice, and a decisive voice, and the director is that voice. It has to be. Ben and I were very conscious about our place. As actors. When it started.

Before that was something else entirely [he laughs]. Gus and Ben came down to Memphis while I was shooting The Rainmaker. As we were working on the script, Gus said, "I want Chuckie (the Ben Affleck character) to get flattened on a construction site. — What do you mean? — Killed. Crushed like a bug. I want somebody to say, 'Chuckie was killed, he was crushed like a bug.'" Ben and I said, "That's a terrible idea! You can't kill him! — No, man. It'll be cool. It'll be the Act II climax. — That's a terrible Act II climax."

Anyway, we wrote a draft where Chuckie got crushed like a bug. When Gus read it, he said, "It's a terrible idea", so we threw it out. We probably have it on our hard drive somewhere. We also have Will getting killed on our hard drive somewhere. That was an original ending: Carmine came back with his boys and a baseball bat to kill Will Hunting, who deep down actually wanted to be killed. It was his way of getting out. You can kind of sense the movie is going that way. You know: "Will drives off into the sunset to find the girl he lost — except for that 18-wheeler that he didn't see." [laughs]

What will happen when - if - Will gets to California? You have to ask Minnie Driver... I think Skylar, her character, will whip his ass. That's it: Good Will Hunting the sequel, scene one: " Will gets whipped." But I don't really know where we would go from there.

[racmune]

a sweater - scout x pauling fic

general audiences, 2,195 words (jan 10th, 2022)

ao3 mirror here

Plastic curtain rings rattled as Scout pushed aside the blinds to peer through the kitchen window.

No sign of her yet...

It was only around five o’clock and the streets were already cold and dark. The only light in the streets was the snowflakes being blown around, carrying the artificial glow of a porchlight; which had been turned on, eagerly awaiting the arrival of Miss Pauling.

She had made plans for dinner with him and his family earlier for her Christmas off.

Scout propped himself up against the wall and crossed his arms. Miss Pauling was late, which was unlike her...

The decor and the smell of peppermint scented candles (Ma’s favourite) had everyone in a festive mood. Jazz softly played from an old forty-five. Scout fixed his eyes onto the spinning record in hopes that it would take his mind off the wait, but it drifted easily.

The doorbell rang and Scout rushed out of the kitchen, anxious to check through the door’s peep-hole. Miss Pauling stood nervously on the porch, fixing her hair and toying with the strap of a small pleather purse slung over her shoulder.

Scout licked his fingers and attempted to slick back his hair.

.

The lock clicked and the door opened. “Uh, hey Miss Pauling!”

“Hey Scout.” Miss Pauling said, letting her hands fall to her side.

Scout let her in and closed the door behind her.

Miss Pauling’s glasses fogged as she came in.

It’d been a while since they were face to face. At least that’s how it felt. It had been a little over two weeks that Mann Co. gave the mercenaries time off for winter break. ..It was surprisingly lonely at work without his constant pestering. She sighed and leaned in to tightly hug him, to his surprise. Her body was cold from the outdoors and her jacket crinkled as he squeezed it.

Miss Pauling sighed, pulling apart from him.

The journey from Teufort to Boston was long and treacherous, especially on a tiny moped during a blizzard...

Miss Pauling rubbed away a tear that had somehow welled up in her eye. “..Sorry about that.”

 “Ay, anytime, Miss Pauling. I missed you.” I missed him too, but I can't say that out loud, he'd probably annoy me even more at work..

Scout looked down. “Hey, your hands look cold.”

“Oh, that’s okay, I could just—” Miss Pauling sputtered as Scout grasped onto her hands.

Her chest tensed up at the innocence of the gesture.

His hands were a lot bigger than Miss Pauling’s. They looked even more so while wrapped around hers like this. She warmed up quickly. Scout looked up at her and grinned.

Miss Pauling’s eyes widened. “Oh, I almost forgot. - My moped’s still outside.”

“Don’t worry about it, Pauling! I’ll get it.”

Miss Pauling rolled her eyes and tossed him the keys. Scout almost lunged out the door, barely keeping from slipping off the porch.

She unbuttoned her scratchy jacket and hung it up. Small specs of ice caught in the loose fibres began to melt and disappear. She pulled off her purse and stared at it for a moment. It contained her Dillinger and extra ammo. She probably won’t need this either.

She heard laughs and inaudible chatter and walked further into the foyer. 

Scout’s family was seated at a long table which was adorned with red cloth and white table-runners, along with intricate embroidery which depicted snowflakes and wind on the ends. Empty plates accompanied half-emptied glasses of wine and beer and untouched cutlery in front of the men loudly exchanging stories.

Miss Pauling pulled out a chair from the end of the table and sat down. Everyone quieted and turned to her.

“Hi, I’m Miss Pauling.”

An old man at the back of the table took a sip from his mulled wine and cleared his throat. “Ay, you work with Jerry, right?”

Scout’s grandpa spoke in a gravelly undertone, as if he was gurgling from the alcohol clinging to his throat.  

“Uh, yeah.”

“Well it’s a pleasure to finally meet ‘cha! I’m Jerry’s grandpops!” The man grinned, holding out his hand, which was as big as Scout’s... I guess it runs in the family...

Miss Pauling leaned in and shook Scout’s grandpa’s hand.

I wonder what Scout’s said about me... It’s against protocol to talk about jobs off the clock, but it’s no use trying to stop Scout’s big mouth.

“So, you need anything? Coffee? Water? .. Wine? ” The old man asked.

“Coffee, please.”

The man got up and walked into the kitchen to flick on the coffee maker and the rest of the table went back to drunkenly conversing and Miss Pauling’s mind wandered.

The kitchen had black and white checkered tile and it was where Scout’s mother and his brother were hard at work preparing dinner. A Christmas tree was lit up beside the counter, complete with ornaments and trinkets, along with a moderately sized plastic nativity scene which sat at its foot.

Scout came back into the room and straddled an empty chair to the left of Miss Pauling.

 “Thanks for the help, Scou- Err... Jeremy . ” Miss Pauling said.

“It’s no problem!”

“Hey, if we’re on a first name basis, does that mean I can call you Fa-- Mmph!”

Miss Pauling clasped her hands over Scout’s mouth bashfully. 

Scout sighed as she took her hands off him. “Alright I geddit..”

Snowflakes had gotten caught in Scout’s eyelashes and his cheeks were red from the cold. Miss Pauling shook her head, shifting her gaze back to Scout’s grandfather - who was walking toward her with a coffee pot and mug in hand.

The pitter-patter of the hot drink hitting the bottom of the ceramic cup was refreshing to hear. Miss Pauling couldn’t make time for coffee at work these past few weeks, and made do with syrupy energy drinks found in Mann Co. brand vending machines across Teufort.

“Thank you.” Miss Pauling said, holding the filled mug.

The heat rising from the coffee rolled along her face.

“D’you take it as is?” The old man asked.

“Eh, yes, thank you.”

Scout’s granddad lowered himself into his chair.

“Well, looks like dinner’s just about ready. Hope you’re not a vegetarian.” He said, chuckling heartily.

Miss Pauling hid her smile behind her coffee.

This was nice.

Scout’s ma stepped out of the kitchen, holding a roast turkey, and then set it down on the middle of the table.

It was garnished with parsley and lemon and the skin was brown, crispy and shiny.

Scout’s ma and brother laid out the rest of the meal. – Bread pudding, mashed potatoes, boiled vegetables, gravy... It smelt delicious. 

Scout’s mom sat at the side of her father, gently caressing his hand, as one of Scout's brothers sat down next to her.

.

Scout picked up the utensils laid out before him, cushioned with folded napkins underneath. He’d spent a lot of time setting everything up fancy tonight, thinking Miss Pauling might notice.

Joey had been working on the turkey with Ma for most of the afternoon, so figures he’d want to do the honors. He leaned over and began carving the turkey with a bread knife.

Ma covered her eyes and laughed.

Everyone got up to grab a plateful of turkey and mashed potatoes and sat back down.

The turkey was soft and sweet. Scout expected nothing less of his ma and Joey.

Previously everyone was talking but now everyone's heads were down and the only sound that could be heard from the table was screeching forks and knives against ceramic. Scout liked the take-out in Teufort but it could never compare to Ma’s cooking.

“Uh,” Miss Pauling blurted out.

“Mmph?” Scout replied; humming through the soft mashed potatoes he was stuffing into his mouth.

“...I actually shouldn’t stay too long if I want to get back to Teufort before midnight...”

Ma lifted her head from her food. “Oh... but don’t you want to stay for dessert?”

“I really can’t. My job is...”

Miss Pauling averted her gaze. “...demanding.”

Her hair fell into her face and she tucked it back behind her ear.

Ma stood up. “I’ll box up a slice of cake.”

Ma went to the fridge to take out the chocolate cake she’d prepared the day before.

“Uh, hey Miss Pauling, there’s actually something I wanted to give you...” Scout said.

“Um, sure. Just make it quick.”

Scout guided Miss Pauling up the stairs to his room and closed the door behind them. Emptied Bonk cans littered the area. Scout tried to reassure himself that Miss Pauling wouldn’t notice or care, but it didn't work.

Miss Pauling sat down on Scout’s bed and folded her hands in her lap, looking around at all the music posters on the walls.

Scout rummaged through his things and pulled out a box wrapped in sparkly Mylar and ribbon. He spent a lot of time trying to make the package look presentable, so he hoped she'd like it.

Scout sat next to Miss Pauling and handed her his gift. “Uh, here.”

Miss Pauling held the present and studied it.

“Can I open it now?”

“Eh, yeah, sure. Totally.”

Miss Pauling unwrapped the box and took off the ribbons. She was completely methodical. Scout kinda liked how serious she took this, like how serious she took everything else. She was always so determined and hard-working.

Miss Pauling took the gift out of the box silently and held it in front of her face.

 “It’s a sweater.” Scout said, stomach filling with butterflies.

...

“Uh, sorry, d'you not like that kinda crap? Sorry. It’s stupid. I...”

“I like it.” Miss Pauling said.

“You do? Yeah, I knitted it myself. My ma taught me how to do it a couple years back so I figured whadda-heck, right? Uh, she actually knit me the one I’m wearin’.”

Miss Pauling looked away. “Your mom seems.. nice.”

Something about her seemed different than her usual detached demeanor.

Scout sat awkwardly in the silence.

He looked around for something, anything , to talk about.“Um, so, uh...”

“Hey Jeremy?” Ma’s voice came from behind the door.

“Come in!” Scout said.

Ma came in and handed a Styrofoam box to Miss Pauling.

“Here’s that cake by the way, didn’t want to forget it before you left.”

“Thank you.” Miss Pauling said.

Ma waved and went back downstairs, closing the door behind her.

Miss Pauling sat the cake aside and put on the sweater. It was baggy and fell just below her hips. They were Scout’s measurements, but it seemed to fit her alright.

“It’s a little baggy...” Miss Pauling said.

“Hey, it’s cute!”

Miss Pauling stood there smiling for a few seconds but quickly looked away.

…

“Uh... I should probably get going now.”

“Oh, yeah sure.”

Scout opened the door and waited for Miss Pauling, who was picking up the cake Ma gave her.

“Thanks for dinner, guys. It was really good.” Scout said, walking down the stairs.

Ma waved cheerfully. “You’re welcome! And Miss Pauling, feel free to come by anytime!”

Miss Pauling nodded and went to the coat-hanger and put her things back on, leaving her coat unbuttoned. Scout picked up his bulky jacket and they both went back outside to the freezing cold.

It was snowing really hard now. Gigantic flurries clouded view of the pitch-black streets.

Scout looked over his shoulder. “You sure you wanna go all the way back to Teufort with weather like this Miss Pauling?”

“You could stay the night here if ya-”

Miss Pauling shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”

“Honestly I shouldn’t even be here anyway… but for what it's worth, it was actually kind of fun.”

Scout smiled.

“Hey, As long as you’re happy, Pauling.”

“Oh! Right,” Scout said, rushing to get Miss Pauling’s moped from the garage.

Scout grunted, struggling to pull up the garage door by its handle until it flew up.

He rolled the moped out and handed Miss Pauling the keys.

“Thanks again, Scout.” Miss Pauling said, putting her cake away in a spare compartment.

Scout smiled. “Anything for you.”

Her eyes had a glint in them he'd never seen before, but she turned her face out of sight.

 “By the way, since you're going you might need this. It's pretty dangerous out here at night.”

Scout handed Miss Pauling a knife with 'jeremy' engraved on the handle.

Scout snorted. “Boston represent.”

“I actually got it for my birthday, so maybe you could give it back once I get back to work?”

"Of course."

It fell silent again. It was as if the snow blocked out any sound.

Miss Pauling moved forward and gave Scout a quick kiss on the cheek.

She pulled back with her eyes widened.

“Uh, well, bye then!” Miss Pauling said, waving and hopping on her scooter.

Her silhouette quickly disappeared from sight and Scout stood still breathlessly.

Her lips were soft and warm. Though it was awkward and only for half a second, it made him want to do anything he could to feel that again. He'd travel to the ends of the universe if he had to.

Scout took a deep breath.

I love that girl.

[kinetic-elaboration]

May 28: Return

Traveling days are so surreal. You start one place, you end up somewhere else. I woke up at 5am in S's guest room, and now I'm on my own couch.

The day was very straightforward, really easy traveling. Really encourages me to take more trips where I just pop up there and then come back down.

We got to the airport super early and then I sat around for a long while because the plane was late in a lackadaisical way. Like oh we were supposed to leave 15 minutes ago, and it's just now showing up... whatever. ADK time for sure. I didn't care; my layover in Boston was long anyway. The plane itself was a full house, all 8 seats full. I was right behind the co-pilot. I slept the whole way.

In Boston, got food and coffee and then just sat for a long time in the rocking chair looking out the window and thinking. I am full of excellent thoughts. Kept scratching the peeling skin of the dumbass boat sunburn at the very top of my forehead where I missed putting on sunscreen like a total fucking rube. The flight itself was fine; on time, not too long; I did stay awake the whole time though.

I checked my bag because I no longer trust TSA not to steal my stuff after they confiscated my host gift on the way up--something that was my fault but I'm big mad about it anyway. So I had to grab that, and I had weird anxiety about it. But it was fine. My ride was there, and I got home about 5, I'd say.

I have literally been on my couch chilling, scrolling, watching TV... shameless. I can't believe it's 10. At least I took off work tomorrow. I have these ideas that I'll clean... mmmmm, we'll see.

I just... loved being home. I've been thinking a lot about my total lack of Home recently but I think, even without family there, this is sort of it. Why did I cry when the flight attendant at Boston said 'for those of you from the Boston area, welcome home'? Even though that was just my layover? S and I still talk as if we were elementary school BFFs. I still feel so comfortable around her and her family. I love her son, I miss him so much already, I just want to hold him as he wiggles around. And I want to play with her dog. And I'm usually scared of dogs.

It's nice to be around people who've known you for a long time and share a certain set of memories and references with you. It's also nice to be around people who have the same vocabulary and scale as you. Like no upstate NY is not the fucking Hudson Valley and it's not Buffalo either (that's Western NY). No 40 degree is not cold. And yes 80 is sweltering and 90 should be illegal. I like being around grocery stores that aren't chains and local-branded soda and beer and ice cream. I like chains like Grand Union, Kinney's, and Stewart's. The shades of green in the trees and blue in the water are the most beautiful colors in the world. I just love this area so much. I'm not even kidding when I say I want to have property up there which is fucking WILD given I don't even have property HERE. L M A O, self.

I'll go up again for Carnival. I have to start acknowledging my November trip (hadfakfaksfa) and then after that, we'll start planning for February. Excellent, excellent. Keep looking forward to things, keep looking on.

[nwbeerguide]

Harpoon Brewery announces the latest in their Life if Good series, Summer Style. A hazy blonde ale, available through August!

Press Release

BOSTON ... Harpoon Brewery – the maker of New England's Original IPA – and Life is Good – the positive lifestyle and apparel brand – announced today the release of their new hazy blonde ale, Summer Style. The beer comes ahead of summer, widely available now and will be sold through August.

...

To further celebrate the people who make good times great all summer long, the two born-and-raised Boston brands are launching a line of exclusive merchandise to complete your summer style and a Good Vibes of Summer Sweepstakes, starting now, where consumers can win Good Vibes of Summer prize packs – loaded with iconic Life is Good and Harpoon summer items - and thousands of other prizes all summer long.

"We know that our customers look for the perfect sipping companion for their various summer activities – whether it be cracking a cold one on a warm Friday evening, a cookout with friends or a trip to the beach on a summer day. Summer Style is exactly what consumers want to be reaching for in warmer months – a refreshing, light blonde ale that is approachable for all," said Dan Kenary, CEO and Co-Founder of Mass. Bay Brewing Company. "Life is Good is another iconic Boston-based brand that shares our mission of making good times, even better, making them a great partner as we ramp up for summer."

Beyond the beer, Harpoon Brewery and Life is Good are launching the Good Vibes of Summer sweepstakes packed with prizes. The sweepstakes can be found at www.HarpoonSummerSweeps.com for consumers 21+ to enter now through August 1st. Customers can enter to win a variety of prizes, including a Harpoon branded Yeti cooler, Life is Good branded beach chairs, co-branded Harpoon and Life is Good merchandise and rebates or promo codes for both brands.

The co-branded Life is Good and Harpoon merchandise will start summer with good vibes offering a collection of new products. The unique merchandise puts a fun spin on the classic Life is Good and Harpoon Brewery favorites with t-shirts, hats, Sea Bag ® beverage buckets and more. The merchandise will range in price from $29.50 - $75. Consumers can find the merchandise shop starting now on the Life Is Good website at https://www.lifeisgood.com/collabs/harpoon/ and Harpoon Brewery website at https://shop.harpoonbrewery.com/collections/life-is-good-x-harpoon.

"The Harpoon Summer Style is the perfect complement to our laid-back, Life is Good vibes," said Life is Good president Tom Hassell. "We're proud to collaborate with Harpoon, another Boston-based company that prioritizes craftsmanship and quality. This beer is for people who love to be outdoors and embrace the best that summer has to offer, making it perfect for our community."

The Summer Style beer is a 5% ABV hazy blonde ale with a refreshing and approachable taste and a soft, light and crisp finish. Summer Style is offered in 12- and 6-pack 12oz bottles, a 12-pack of 12oz cans, and will be available on tap at select locations.

Harpoon's Summer Style is available now starting today. To find the brew near you, check out the Harpoon Beer Finder: https://www.harpoonbrewery.com/beer-finder/.

About the Harpoon Brewery The Harpoon Brewery was founded in 1986 by beer lovers who wanted more and better beer options. When the Brewery was founded, Harpoon was issued Brewing Permit #001 by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, since it was the first to brew commercially in Boston after a dormant period of about 25 years. Since then, it has expanded to a second brewery in Windsor, VT. Harpoon's line of craft beer features its award-winning IPA and seasonal beers, along with special limited releases. In 2014, Harpoon became an employee-owned company.

About Life is Good Life is Good is the original positive lifestyle brand dedicated to spreading the power of optimism through art and message. The company donates 10 percent of annual net profits to The Life is Good Playmaker Project. Through this work, they are able to help over 1 million kids in need each year. Life is Good® is a registered trademark of The Life is Good Company. Visit LifeisGood.com for more details, and follow Life is Good on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and TikTok.

[armpirate]

UNDER YOUR SKIN || JJK || Ch. 3

Pairings: tattoist!jk x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, friends to lovers, tattoo au, virgin reader.

Summary: You were awful on anything related to flirting, guys and sex. He was the perfect ladies man. You wanted to get rid of your virginity. And he was there to help you with everything you needed. You didn't have the best start, but that didn't mean you wouldn't have the best of the endings.

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

I drag the humid rag over the counter, cleaning the stains that -at some point in the evening- started being part of the decoration of the wooden surface along with the few empty glasses Tammy, my co-worker, kept gathering next to the beer tap. 

I hate being behind the bar right after Tammy because of this.

She throws the empty metallic tray before both of her elbows rest on the counter. It doesn't take her long to move them back up, just as soon as she realizes I've been cleaning up what she didn't.

—I swear if one more asshole touches my ass... 

—Kick him —I shrug—. Isn't that why you've been boxing?

—That's why I started —she corrects me—. The reason why I'm still going though...

—Oh, your boxing crush —I nod—. Gotcha. 

Tammy is still standing there. Probably waiting for me to go on and ask her a thousand questions about that crush she has talked about non-stop. 

—And that's it? You aren't going to ask if there's something new?

—No —I answer, moving to the beer tap so I can start picking the empty glasses up—. It's not like you need me to ask anyway. 

—You're right —she laughs—. He might come with his friends tonight —I nod, she already told me this earlier today.

And just like she told me, her group of friends show up half an hour later, when we are about to close. It's not a big group, and they don't look like the people I'm used to seeing Tammy surrounded by. They look... normal.  Don't get me wrong, Tammy is great, but her friends have always been the type of people you would love to kick for being too loud next to you. Yes. Definitely that type.

She's laughing and talking to two girls, while the other guy is just looking at his phone. And, right at the same time I'm eyeing them, Tammy spots me and waves at me to join them. I don't really want to, but she insists.

"Take any change you can to meet new people. Get out of your comfort zone" I roll my eyes when that phrase pops up in my mind. I'm annoyed, but at the same time, that dude wasn't wrong. How am I supposed to meet new people if I keep closing doors? 

And since the pub flirting didn't work two days ago, I should stick to meeting people that are friends with my friends -or coworkers in this case.

I look around, and confirm there aren't a lot of customers left before I start walking to the table where Tammy is more than comfortable now. She just sat right next to the blonde girl like she isn't on her shift at this exact moment. I'm about to turn around and go back to the counter, but Tammy's warning gaze just tells me she'll be a pain in the ass if I end up doing that.

—Guys, this is y/n —she introduces me to her friends as soon as I reach the table.

Everyone there greets me and assures me Tammy has talked a lot about me. And that makes me feel bad instantly, for the thought I had earlier of her not being totally my friend -at least, I don't think we've been around enough to be considered as such. They all introduce themselves: Melanie is the blonde girl with a white charming smile -and by her accent, I'd assume she isn't from here, maybe Boston-, Lucas is the blond guy who only lifts his gaze from his phone to look at Tammy every once in a while, and Jungsoo is the asian girl, brunette short shoulder length hair, that welcomes me to the conversation, although it's the first time she's ever seen me. 

They tell me both Soo and Lucas met Tammy in one of those kickboxing classes, and Tammy met Soo's boyfriend when she got that butterfly tattoo she got on her shoulder, while Melanie was already friends with Soo because they both went to the same college. And just that way, the conversation swifts to a topic I don't like and that reminds me why I'm working in a shitty bar this late into the night. 

—Fine Arts —I try to suppress the usual annoyed tone that comes with it.

—Really? —Soo asks surprised— My brother also studied that degree, but he wasn't lucky finding a job he liked.

Well, at least he was lucky enough to find a job and quit only because he didn't like it.

—He started working with my boyfriend on a business he opened, and just stayed there —she mentions—. Have you ever considered doing something on your own?

I know the question is genuine, I know she's just being curious since she found someone who was just as unlucky as her brother. But unlike him, I don't have the resources of opening anything on my own. Imagine thinking I had them, but I'm still working here by choice? I'd kick myself to death if I ever did something like that.

—No —I shake my head—. I'm sure there will be something out there for me sooner or later. I have the gift of patience, so...

And that's probably why I still haven't found a proper job as a designer. Fuck, even a simple job in an art gallery would make it for me. At the end of the day, it's what I studied for. 

Soo moves her hand up, moving her locks away from her face, and I can't help but notice a familiar tattoo on her wrist. But before I can think too much about it, I see her pointing at me before asking:

—Are you working next weekend? 

—Hmm no.

Which always translated to me as: waking up at three in the afternoon, doing the laundry, maybe grocery shopping... Adult things, basically.

—We rented a cabin —she sips her beer before looking at me again—. It's Melanie's birthday, and we usually go to Lake Seneca to celebrate it.

What does that have to do with me?

—Tammy is coming, too. And a few other friends —she continues—. My brother's ex-girlfriend was supposed to come, so now we have space left. If you want to join us...

—I don't know —I doubt—. We just met and it's your birthday —I point to Melanie—. Having a stranger around...

—That's how we all started —she shrugs—. Also you're Tammy's friend, so you're fine. The more we are, the better. We all were strangers at some point.

—If it's fine for you.

Melanie nods right away, assuring everything is fine and I shouldn't be worrying. Soo talks again, trying to comfort me when she realizes I'm still not totally convinced.

—My brother is in a similar situation. He started going out with us not that long ago.

The difference is he is your brother. While I've just learnt today I'm close friends with Tammy. 

In one of those trips my eyes make all over the bar, I spot one customer waiting in the counter, resting both of his arms on the surface while he's looking around for either of us. Warning everyone that I'm going back to work, I start heading there. 

While I'm busy with the customer, I hear the door opening and closing almost instantly. And that only causes me to beg people stop coming.

It's late. They all should be going to sleep. I want to go back home and let the mattress absorb me. But doesn't seem like that's what Tammy wants me to do, when she waves at me again once the customer leaves.

[arixwrites]

Marcus Baker x OFC Pt.3

Pt 1 Pt 2

Marcus Baker x Allison Littman (OFC)

words: 2k

I didn’t want to go too cliche with their first kiss, so I made it a bit more fun. Hope you enjoy. 

The group hangout is back at the Baker house this weekend. The Baker parents are in Boston for the weekend for some reason, Max never elaborated. The farthest she got was, ‘My parents are gone this weekend. Party at my house’ No one cared enough to ask why, as long as they had a house to get drunk at. They were all excited to have a chance to let off some steam. 

Allison didn’t want to let on how excited she was for the party since she wasn’t excited for the same reason as everyone else. She was looking forward to the chance to hang out with Marcus Baker. She had some classes with him and saw him here and there in the hallway since the last MAAN and co. hangout but this would be different. It would just be him and her all night. Allison had some plans for the night and she couldn’t wait! 

The party was going along very similarly to the last one. They were in the freezing cold playing some drinking game just like last time. And once again Allison was babying the same drink just long enough until everyone was too drunk to notice her sneak upstairs. 

Marcus is scrolling mindlessly on his phone because he can’t focus on anything at the moment. Allison was on his mind and she wasn’t going away. He couldn’t help but hope that she wandered up into his room again. After he unconsciously watched the same Tik Tok four times in a row he couldn’t take it anymore. He decided that he would go downstairs, grab a beer, and invite Allison upstairs. If she refuses, hey! It’s cool. He’ll just play Smash Bros by himself (like that’s not depressing at all). He really hopes she doesn’t refuse.

They got drunk a lot faster than Allison expected. They must really suck at this game or are really good at it, she thought. Although she wasn’t paying enough attention to them to be able to tell which conclusion was the right one. Allison was too busy mindlessly playing some candy crush-esque game on her phone. She was trying to keep her mind off a certain Baker who was just upstairs. She would 100% rather be up in his room with him than outside with MAAN and co. but she honestly was a little nervous now that the time came. She didn’t want to just assume that he wanted to hang out with her. Maybe he had other plans for tonight. Plans that did not involve her.  

Marcus quickly scanned the backyard as he stepped through the sliding glass door. The music was loud and there was screaming and laughter coming from the game being played just steps away. He found Allison sitting on a camping chair off to the side. Completely forgetting his “cover” of grabbing a beer, he strode over to Allison with as much confidence that he could muster. No one even noticed he was downstairs, but he honestly couldn’t care less. All he cared about was getting to hang out with Allison tonight (such a sap!). He placed a hand on her arm. He could tell that he caught her off guard with how fast she whipped her head up. He leaned down to speak directly in her ear, ‘Want to come upstairs?’ Allison smiled and nodded in agreement. Marcus couldn’t keep the small smile off of his face. Allison and Marcus tried to stealthily make their way into the house without being noticed. 

Not too far from Allison, Samantha was sitting in a lawn chair of her own. She, Abby, and Max got in a bit of a fight earlier in the night so the girls decided to ignore Samantha.They weren’t even really mad anymore, they just thought it was a fun game at this point. Samantha was the only person on the deck to see the interaction between Allison and Marcus. Honestly, it stunned her. She had never seen the two really interact. She sensed something between the two. Max and Abby could be bitches sometimes, so she figured she could file that information away to use another time.

__________

‘Thank you for coming down there and saving me,’ Allison smirked. ‘Any longer and I probably would’ve died of frostbite’    

Marcus laughs, ‘You are very welcome, but you know I’m starting to think you’re more dramatic than my sister.’

Allison gasps dramatically, ‘You take that back! She could probably hear you’ Allison looks around Marcus’s room in mock fear.

 Marcus plops down on his bed, ‘Ready to lose at Smash Bros again?’

‘Actually, no. I was thinking we could do something else tonight,’ Allison pulls out a small ziploc bag of shrooms, ‘I mean if you’re open to it’ She adds this quickly so he knows he has an out if he wanted to.

‘Yeah, I’m down, but I thought you didn’t like that stuff. Like partying.’ Marcus really hoped she wasn’t just doing this for his sake, ‘It’s a lot of fun watching you lose.’ 

Allison gave him a fake smile, ‘Yeah I bet that is super fun for you,’ Marcus grinned. ‘I just don’t love getting wasted all the time. Either way, this isn’t “partying”. This is more like a spiritual experience. Have you done them before?’ 

Marcus leaned forward, ‘No, I haven’t. You’d be popping my figurative cherry.’ He couldn’t help himself. She had just set it up so nicely. Allison tried hard not to smile (and failed) at the corny/suggestive joke and keep a deadpan expression.  

Allison sits in front of Marcus on his bed ‘Well, thank you for allowing me to guide you on this journey,’ she said in a serene voice. ‘But seriously, it’s gonna be fun. I’ve done them twice before with my cousin so I am basically an expert. During both times I made some pretty great art.’

Marcus claps, ‘Alright! Let’s trip’

______

Marcus went downstairs to gather snacks and water for the trip (per Allison’s request). Meanwhile, Allison set up some chill music on a speaker in Marcus’s room along with paper and pens if they felt like drawing during the trip. She really wanted Marcus to enjoy himself. When the shrooms kicked in Marcus became weirdly obsessed with the music playing. Currently, it is playing a nature sounds playlist. He felt like he was transported to the babbling brook that he could hear through the speaker. He placed his hands on the speaker and felt the vibrations move through his hands and up his arms. In his tripped out mind, he wasn’t Marcus Baker. He was the babbling brook. 

On the other side of the room, Allison was in a starfish position on the fluffy rug beside Marcus’s bed. She had never felt anything more soft in her life. It was like each individual thread was giving her a warm hug. Allison wanted more little hugs though, so she set out on a search in Marcus’s room. The “search” being touching every possible surface, fabric, and object in the room. This led her to start comparing and contrasting the different physical sensations she received from everything she touched. What really caught her attention were the walls. She wondered if each piece of art was unique in texture. In Allison’s tripped out mind, they really all were unique. The marker felt different from the paint and the paint felt dramatically different from the pencil (Allison preferred the hugs from the markers). ‘Marcus! Come here! Feel your art on the walls. I feel like I’m getting millions of little tiny hugs from your art,’ Marcus jumped up and came to stand next to Allison. She turned to look at him, ‘Does that make sense?’

‘Completely!’ Marcus stuck out his hands and began tracing the clock he drew on his wall just a couple of weeks ago. ‘Wooahh. I think I feel it. I feel the tiny hugs!’ Both of them were mesmerized by the drawings on the walls for another good five minutes until Marcus remembered the babbling brook. He had to show Allison the babbling brook! ‘Allison, you need to come feel-’ he placed his hand on her arm and froze. ‘Oh my god. Your sweater is giving me way better hugs than this wall. Oh my god. The hugs!’ Marcus couldn’t stop himself from rubbing his hands up and down the side of her arms. 

‘Really?’ She turned and started doing the same motions as Marcus. ‘Marcus! Your shirt too!’ They beamed at each other while caressing each other’s arms. Allison moved her hands up and ran them through his long dark hair. It was like silk. 

Marcus reciprocated this action. He started twirling her hair around his fingers. It was like water the way it moved so freely. Marcus looked up in realization at Allison, ‘You’re the brook too!’

Allison had no idea what he was talking about but went along with it anyway, ‘Cooool.’ 

Their eyes roamed each other’s faces. Studying every feature like it was the first time they were seeing each other. Marcus places a hand on Allison’s cheek, ‘Allison… Can I feel how soft your lips are with my lips?’

Allison smiles, ‘Did you just read my mind right now? Yes, of course you can.’ Marcus wastes no time and softly presses his lips against hers. The hand that was resting on her cheek moves up to cup the back of her head. Her hands find the sides of his arms. She uses them to steady herself and pull her body even closer to him until it feels like every physical part of them is touching. Allison decides, Marcus Baker’s lips give way better tiny hugs than his fluffy rug ever could. 

Monday Morning…

Back at school, Marcus and Allison are both anxious about seeing each other again. They haven’t talked since the amazing kiss(es) they shared on Friday night. However, they both knew that they wanted to see each other again and not just at some MAAN hangout. 

Just before the end of lunch, Marcus spots Allison at her locker alone. He hadn’t been able to find the time to speak to her since now because they were either in class or MAAN was hanging around. She was in the middle of unloading her books into her locker when Marcus strolled up to her, ‘Hey, Allison’

She placed her final notebook in her locker and turned toward Marcus, ‘Oh! Hey Marcus’

Marcus leaned against the locker next to hers, ‘I just wanted to say that I had a good time with you on Friday. I will never look at my walls the same again.’

She covered her face in embarrassment, ‘Ugh.. the tiny hugs. Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be able to look at your walls the same again either.’ They both laughed thinking of the weird shit they got up to on that Friday night This also reminded them of the climax of that night. The kiss.

Marcus ran his hand through his hair, ‘Do you want to hang out sometime? Like really hanging out, no party to hide from, no hard drugs or alcohol.’

Now it was Allison’s turn to fiddle with her hair, ‘Yeah! I’d really like that.’ 

Marcus grinned, ‘Cool.’ 

The bell rang marking the five minute warning until their fifth period started. Allison closed her locker, ‘Alright, I’ll see you later,’ she placed her hand on his arm before she started walking away from her locker. A few steps away she stopped and turned back around, ‘Oh yeah, and I need to know where you got that rug in your room! That thing was so damn soft!’

Okay, I really got carried away with this but I had fun :)))  (also i have never done shrooms lmao so this is literally just off of movies and books ive read)

[brewyork]

The 2023 Guide to Beer at Citi Field

While the Mets are in the midst of an utterly miserable early-season slide, the situation on the field leaves about as much to be desired as the beer situation at Citi Field. While for the past several years, there were dedicated kiosks to local craft beer at the stadium, the beer selection has devolved to be a mile wide and an inch deep — more availability across the stadium, but far fewer selections, and even fewer local ones.

Citi Field’s beer selection is largely dominated by Mets major sponsor MillerCoors, with the macro beers, Blue Moon original and Moon Haze, and the Vizzy and Topo Chico-branded seltzers all regularly available throughout the stadium. Boston Beer has a dominant presence this year, with both Dogfish Head (60 Minute IPA and SeaQuench) and Coney Island (Merman IPA, Mermaid Pilsner, and Beach Beer) widely available, but seemingly the only Sam Adams-branded product on offer is their N/A IPA, Just the Haze. Montauk Brewing, which got a big boost when they were acquired by cannabis company Tilray last year, is widely available, offering the Wave Chaser IPA and Summer Ale. Brooklyn Brewery, which has been available in fits and starts at Citi Field since its inception, has Lager, Summer Ale, Pulp Art IPA, and Pilsner this season — though the Pilsner was a hard find, spotted only on draft at Pig Beach behind section 135. Sloop Juice Bomb is one of the few returning craft beers this year, and there’s one new entrant: Glen Cove-based Garvies Point Brewing, who’s got cans of their Crescent Kolsch.

The big reason for the dearth of indie craft options this year: 16-ounce cans are gone from the stadium. It appears that Aramark, Citi Field’s concessionaire, required that any local or craft beer be sold in a 19.2-ounce can. Putting aside that 19.2 ounces is more IPA than I really want to drink, it’s an unreasonable ask for small breweries that would not typically have both the supply of cans and capability to can in that format. In past years, the Empire State Craft stands would exclusively offer 16-ounce cans at a fixed price point. And despite the average length of games being notably shorter this year, the beers are now sold to last longer (and, on hot days, probably get warm before you can finish them).

As far as pricing goes, not too much has changed. While the $14.25 16-ounce craft cans are gone, the handful of 19.2-ounce cans last season from Dogfish Head and Brooklyn were priced at $15.25 — the same price as this year. 24-ounce macro beers are still $15.50, and 24-ounce cans of Blue Moon and Leinenkugel Summer Shandy will continue to set you back $16.50.

Anyway, if you’re looking for the best beer selection on each level, here’s a quick and easy guide:

Field Level: Montauk Brewing stand behind section 128

Excelsior Level: the beer stand behind sections 301/302 on the Coca-Cola Porch

Promenade Level: the beer stand behind section 418 (where the Empire State Craft stand was in past seasons)

One notable omission from the beer list this year: EBBS Brewing Co., beer that’s quite literally brewed under Citi Field’s right field stands. Of course, you can still have their more reasonably-priced beers before and after the game at their taproom.

[whartonists]

1896 Ginger Punch

Happy first anniversary of 1.03 airing! Though I didn’t make anything last week because I was ill (story of my January, unfortunately) I am back this week with a recipe for Ginger Punch, from the 1896 Boston Cooking-School Cook Book, better known simply under its author’s name, The Fannie Farmer Cookbook.

This was, I think it is not too much of an exaggeration to say, the most influential cookbook of the early twentieth century; Farmer is credited with standardizing measurements and introducing the “modern” cookbook format (a list of ingredients in precise measurements, followed by specific instructions for how to create the dish). In reading a bunch of late 19th century cookbooks, as I’ve been doing lately, it’s interesting to note the ways in which these innovations had already started to be implemented by other authors; indeed Farmer’s cookbook was actually a significant update and expansion of the 1884 Mrs. Lincoln’s Boston Cook Book. (Which sports the amazingly straightforward subtitle, What To Do and What Not To Do in Cooking.) But Farmer used this standardized formatting and measurements systematically and lucidly in a way that clearly spoke to American cooks, and it has never gone out of print.

Ginger Punch.

1 quart cold water. 1 cup sugar. 1/2 lb. Canton ginger. 1/2 cup orange juice. 1/2 cup lemon juice.

Chop ginger, add to water and sugar, boil fifteen minutes; add fruit juice, cool, strain, and dilute with crushed ice.

Still much more terse than we’d expect from a modern recipe, but look at those exact measurements! Look at that precise time! It doesn’t give specifics about how to chop the ginger--but also, it doesn’t really matter, since it will be strained out anyway. The detail is selective, but there’s enough of it that the recipe is straightforward to follow.

(Some further ramblings about how I made it below the cut.)

This seemed like way more punch than I wanted (she doesn’t give a serving estimate, though the recipe above this one on the page, for “Fruit Punch II,” ends with the note that “This quantity will serve fifty,” which unnerved me)--so I ended up quartering the recipe. I only got what is in my glass in the photo, though, so while that worked out perfectly for me, only halving it or making up the full recipe wouldn’t have been overwhelming.

Canton ginger is evidently just another name for culinary ginger; I got roughly the proper amount by weighing it on my co-op’s bulk foods scale, and peeled as well as chopped it before boiling it with the water and sugar. The lemon and orange juice I squeezed fresh, though if I’d had open containers of juice for either I’d have just used those; the sugar was regular white sugar. I made crushed ice using the expedient method of putting some ice cubes in a dishtowel and then whacking them with my cast-iron skillet a few times.

I think it is extremely tasty; I cooled it down in the fridge, so it’s extra chilled and very refreshing. It is also very gingery--think ginger beer levels of ginger as opposed to ginger ale. The ice to dilute it was a good call, Ms. Farmer.

(Sources are once again the wonderful Food in the American Gilded Age, edited by Helen Zoe Veit, and this belated obituary by the New York Times, from 2018; the image of the recipe is from a scan of the original 1896 cookbook hosted at the Michigan State University’s Feeding America project, which I can’t recommend highly enough.)

[skateboardmarketing]

Machine Head Announce Slaughter The Martour North American Tour With Fear Factory as Direct Support.

In an electrifying announcement that will cause anticipatory convulsions through the world of metal, Bay Area icons MACHINE HEAD have announced the first leg of their 'Slaughter The Martøur Nørth America 2024’ tour. Forgoing their “An Evening With…” format for the first time in a decade, MACHINE HEAD will have LA’s cyber-metal masters FEAR FACTORY, Sweden’s ORBIT CULTURE, and Louisville, KY’s GATES TO HELL in tow guaranteeing your 2024 starts off as heavy as humanly possible!

'Slaughter The Martøur Nørth America 2024’ will kick off with a “hometown” show for MACHINE HEAD, their first since 2020 in San Francisco on January 19th. Then the tour heads north with shows in the Pacific Northwest as well as eight shows in Canada. Other stops include Chicago, Orlando, and Houston before concluding in Los Angeles on February 24th at The Bellwether.

MACHINE HEAD’s founder Robb Flynn states, "Head Cases! This will be the greatest metal tour on earth! So stoked to be getting back on the road in America/Canada with 4 masters of soul-crushing heaviness and an absolutely earth-shattering bill. Fear Factory has long been our brothers-in-arms, pioneers, and innovators of a sound that had yet to exist. Orbit Culture are the fast-rising Swedish modern metal maniacs bringing their unique spin to the world, and Gates To Hell absolutely blew my mind at Milwaukee Metalfest with their sheer savage brutality. North America, we’re ready to crush skulls, crush beers, and crush everything in our path!

Confirmed dates for MACHINE HEAD's'Slaughter The Martøur Nørth America 2024’with direct support FEAR FACTORY as well as ORBIT CULTURE, and GATES TO HELL are:

01.19.2024 US   San Francisco, CA - The Warfield 01.21.2024 US   Portland, OR - Roseland Theater 01.22.2024 US   Seattle, WA - Showbox 01.23.2024 CA   Vancouver, BC - Commodore 01.25.2024 CA   Edmonton, AB - Midway Music Hall 01.26.2024 CA   Calgary, AB - Grey Eagle Casino 01.27.2024 CA   Saskatoon, SK - Coors Event Centre 01.28.2024 CA   Winnipeg, MB - Burton Cumming Theatre 01.30.2024 US   Minneapolis, MN - Skyway Theatre 01.31.2024 US   Chicago, IL - Concord Music Hall 02.01.2024 US   Pittsburgh, PA - Roxian Theatre 02.02.2024 US   Northfield, OH - MGM Northfield Park 02.03.2024 US   Detroit, MI - St. Andrews 02.05.2024 CA   Toronto, ON - The Opera House 02.06.2024 CA   Montreal, QC - M'Telus 02.07.2024 CA   Quebec City, QC - Theatre Capitole 02.08.2024 US   Boston, MA - Paradise Rock Club 02.09.2024 US   Bethlehem, PA - Wind Creek Event Center 02.10.2024 US   New York, NY - Palladium Times Square 02.12.2024 US   Silver Spring, MD - The Fillmore Silver Spring 02.14.2024 US   Atlanta, GA - Masquerade (Heaven) 02.15.2024 US   Orlando, FL - House Of Blues 02.17.2024 US   Austin, TX - Emo's 02.18.2024 US   San Antonio, TX - Aztec 02.19.2024 US   Houston, TX - House Of Blues 02.21.2024 US   Englewood, CO - Gothic Theatre 02.22.2024 US   Albuquerque, NM - Sunshine Theater 02.23.2024 US   Mesa, AZ - Nile Theater 02.24.2024 US   Los Angeles, CA - The Bellwether

Tickets & VIP: 

www.machinehead.vip

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Sunday 6 March 1836

7 ¾

11 ½

no kiss fine morning but dull - F34 ½° at 8 at which hour breakfast - A- off to the school at 8 55 I sat reading downstairs till 10 10 the latter ½ (had the former part on Friday) of ‘Six months in a convent: the narrative of Rebecca Theresa Reed, late inmate of the Ursuline convent mount Benedict, Charlestown, Massachusetts 2nd London edition, Reprinted from the American edition, with an Introduction London: Thomas Ward and co. 27 Paternoster Row 1836. William Tyler, printer, Bolt-cont, Fleet street’ 18mo. (or very small 12mo.) pp. 100 + viii pp. of Introduction  25,000 copies sold in Boston in a very few weeks - ‘which sale tended to increase rather than to lessen the demand for’ this little book - a lawless mob ‘has since demolished the building in which Miss Reed was confined’ no wonder! this little book, which bears the stamp of truth, as surely [?] to hold up the convent of Mount Benedict to the hatred of all honest men - ¼ hour looking into travelling books - out at 10 ½ to meet A- met Greenwood - he says something must be done about the Northgate hotel - some beer or something must be sold there, or the licence may be taken away - told G- to make inquiries and see after this - he wants me to let Carr have the hotel - I said C- had neither character nor money and the yellows were all against him saying he was such a party-man - gave Greenwood the key of my walk to look about him and asked him to come up some evening and talk matters over - we met A- at Mytholm and I turned back with her and left G- to look about having told him I hoped to have 18 horse-power to spare after pumping up the coal-water - came in at 11 20 - A- and I a minute or 2 with my father - at accounts till 12 ¼ -then A- and I read prayers to my aunt (in bed) and Oddy and Mary and John in 25 minutes - then sat with A- a little read the 1st 18 pp. of Whewell’s notes on German churches - at the school at 2 ¼ - waited 12 minutes in church till 2 ½ - Mr. Wilkinson did all the duty - preached 14 minutes from Ephesians v.14. called and sat an hour at Cliff hill - Mrs. AW- in good humour and spirits - home at 5 ¾ - dinner at 6 - coffee - read the first 20 pp. of a tour in Germany published in London in 1826 till 9 50 then 10 minutes with my aunt - dull but fair and finish day till 12 at noon - then rain and rainy afternoon - fair now at 10 20 pm and F38°

[brookstonalmanac]

Beer Events 11.10

Events

Rene Descartes had the dream that inspired his famous line "I Drink, Therefore I Am" (1619)

Robert Mullan, owner of the Tun Tavern, was commissioned by Congress to create the U.S. Marines (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; 1775)

Carlsberg brews their 1st beer (Denmark; 1847)

1st beer brewed in the Western Mining Territories, now Colorado, by Solomon, Tascher & Co. (1859)

Joseph Gecman patented an Improved Beer Cooler (1868)

Conrad Zimmer patented a Process of Brewing Beer (1885)

Hamm's trademarked (1894)

Broadway play “Light Wines and Beer” opened (1930)

Adolf Heck patented a Beer Lacquer (1936)

John MacDonough patented a Process of Clarifying and Stabilizing Beer (1953)

Edmund Fitzgerald sank in Lake Superior (1975)

Joe Owades patented a hop extract sunscreen (1981)

Miller Brewing patented a Keg Cap (1987)

Idaho Brewing made their 1st barley wine (Idaho Falls; 1997)

Boston Beer Co. patented a Method and System for Producing a Malt Beverage Having a High Degree of Fermentation (2011)

Pacific Coast Brewing closed (2017)

Breweries Opened

Carlsberg Brewery (Denmark; 1847)

Erie Brewing (Pennsylvania; 1994)

Lexington City Brewery (Kentucky; 1995)

Bill King Brewery (England; 2001)

[breakrockbrewing]

You only have 13 days to try our October Food Menu! What will November bring? 🏽 PRETZEL BITES BRB Co. Beer Cheese | Hot Honey Sauce TRUFFLE PARM TATER TOTS House-made ketchup BRB CO. DRY RUB CHICKEN WINGS Buttermilk Ranch | Hot Honey Sauce BOLOGNESE NACHOS House-made bolognese | Sour Cream HOPPY HARVEST PIZZA Butternut Squash | Bacon | Honey Glaze | Arugula Available all day and night at the taproom! #breakrockbrewing #quincy #boston #beersofboston #southboston #southie #quincyma #bostonbeers #marinabay #bostonbrewery #bostondatenight #quincydatenight https://bit.ly/48czRFS