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rgr-pop · 6 years ago

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I need an ENTIRE afternoon wall of noise. 4/3 music library on shuffle until I hit a killdozer song.

the thermals - “god and country” reset - "double cross" nirvana - "polly" (1986-88 home recording) nirvana - "radio friendly unit shifter" (2013 mix) peterbuilt - "sateliteyes" the dickies - "got it at the store" apocalypse hoboken - "box of pills" fiona apple - "slow like honey" tex & the horseheads - "big boss man" everclear - "the drama king" anti-flag - "america got it right" neil young - "tonight's the night, pt. ii" everclear - "brown-eyed girl" noooooooooo oh my god no please millencolin - “israelites" listen you know that i'm p tolerant when it comes to this subject but why specifically did you boys do this. specifically you useless id - "note" never accuse me of pop punk nationalism again! that's three of global pop punk the selecter - "selling out your future" built to spill - "some things last a long time" holidays - "proof" let's wrestle - "bad mammaries" radhos - "one breath" ween - "boing" bracket - "g-vibe" local h - "'cha!' said the kitty" sublime - "40oz to freedom" failure - "saturday saviour" blink-182 - "don't leave me" (tmtts live take) why did they make this live album, they were so bad live shrimp boat - "melon song" interpol - "not even jail" the ataris - "angry nerd rock" 50 million - "superhero" skankin pickle - "violent love" the breeders - "put on a side" all - "honey peeps" the commandos (suicide commandos) - "weekend warrior" suicide machines - "friends are hard to find" the eclectics - "laura" good ska block! love this band pansy division - "jack u off" rocket from the tombs - "ain't it fun" dynamite boy - "devoted" young pioneers - "downtown tragedy" the breeders - "so sad about us" fenix tx - "jean claude trans am" fuck i love this song nofx - "bob" hickey - "happily ever after" bob dylan - "tangled up in blue" (bootlegs vol. 2) gas huffer - "king of hubcaps" tullycraft - "crush this town" atom and his package - "goalie" faith no more - "the real thing" carly rae jepsen - "tell me" bis - "listen up" one direction - "still the one" mtx - "she's no rocket scientist" eugene chadbourne - "roger miller medley" grouvie ghoulies - "carly simon" white town - "thursday at the blue note" gas huffer - "moon mission" rx bandits - "sleepy tyme" everclear - "rocket for the girl" failure - "kindred" blood on the saddle - "johnny's at the fair" the distillers - "red carpet and rebellion" cruiserweight - "dearest drew" stp - "plush" everclear - "wonderful" (live, from the closure ep) (don't hate it) new found glory - "sonny" everclear - "otis redding" (impure white evil demo) (BEST song) stp - "adhesive" incubus - "have you ever" cub - "tell me now" everclear - "short blonde hair" i simply do not hate it letters to cleo - "happy ever after" amazing transparent man - “the ocean is a fuck of a long way to swim” nerf herder - “(stand by your) manatee” kitty kitty - “ab tokeless” osker - “the mistakes you made” perfume genius - “hood” radhos - “shut up & deal” (welcome to the jungle take) osker - “the body” gas huffer - “the sin of sloth” the fall - “bombast” excuse 17 - “code red” mad season - “lifeless dead” unwritten law - “differences” hanson - “two tears” the eyeliners - “anywhere but here” moby grape - “lazy me” brian wilson - “wonderful” 88 fingers louie - “something i don’t know” sicko - “wisdom tooth weekend” the replacements - “love you till friday” suicide machines - “green world” midtown - “another boy” hickey - “cool kids attacked by flying monkeys” the roman invasion suite - “carnations” the beat - “tears of a clown” local h - “24 hour break up session” okay i’m awake i want to end this now toots & the maytals - “funky kingston” local h - “strict-9″ his name is alive - “her eyes were huge things” nirvana - “frances farmer will have her revenge on seattle” slapstick - “almost punk enough” urge overkill - “bionic revolution” janet jackson - “you want this” piebald - “long nights” small brown bike - “now i’m a shadow” the story so far - “left unsaid” crj - “more than a memory” tracy + the plastics - “my friends end parties” liz phair - “6′1″“ fastbacks - “555, pt. 1″ this mix is feminist now swindle - “one track” shockabilly - “burma shave” temple of the dog - “say hello to heaven” amazing transparent man - “shove” cool soul asylum cover from dekalb illinois :)) the vindictives “eating me alive” midwests only!! the judys - “radiation squirm” gulfs only!! frogpond - “sleep” flipp - “rock-n-roll star” throwing muses - “red shoes” everclear - “santa monica” throwing muses on summerland??? mekons - “atone & forsaken” holidays - “take me home country roads” this is a good tone to lead up to killdozer... true believers - “all mixed up again” prince - “adore” beulah - “queen of the populists” eveclear - “rocky mountain high” (99x live acoustic--I don’t have a date for this actually) of montreal - “dustin hoffman thinks about eating the soap” heatmiser - “stray” rickie lee jones - “woody and dutch on the slow train to peking” tar - “viaduct removal” common rider - “carry on” the frogs - “u bastards” mudhoney - “this gift” hammerbox - “outside” fuck my mom would have loved this song if it had gotten the airplay it deserved in 1993... hammerbox on summerland!!!! letters to cleo - “little rosa” kay hanley on summerland!! nine pound hammer “wrongside of the road” hanson - “with you in your dreams” (3cg demo) hamson on summerland!!! fastbacks - “555, pt. 1″ again... fastbacks on summerland!!! face to face - “sensible” soul asylum - “happy” soul asylum on summerland!!!! television - “see no evil” pinq - “careful not to mention the obvious” the dickies - “nights in white satin” tar - “mel’s” truly - “chlorine” babes in toyland - “deep song” hole - “berry” hellbender - “half driven” hammerhead - “new york? ...alone?” everclear - “malevolent” guzzard - “last” archers of loaf - “tatyana” hum - “stars” hum on summerland die kreuzen - “don’t say please” this is not fair joanna newsom - “sadie” down by law - “peace, love and understanding” nirvana - “aneurysm” (1990 demo) hovercraft - “endoradiosonde” modest mouse - “cowboy dan” rage against the machine - “born of a broken man” skatalites - “scandal ska” pylon - “driving school” the vindictives - “babysitter” jimmy eat world - “ten” the get up kids - “lowercase west thomas” oh we’re doing this now? hot rod circuit - “knees” fine triple fast action - “the rescue” FINE full disclosure i do skip emo diaries tracks at my discretion the amps - “bragging party” everclear - “am radio” this is not fair mxpx - “middlename” MXPX ON SUMMERLAND chokebore - “your let down” bob dylan - “you’re a big girl now” helmet - “primitive” pond - “filterless” blink-182 - “all the small things” local h - “ralph” tar - “over and out” pearl jam - “black” the gits - “sniveling little rat faced git” local h - “eddie vedder” >:) tar - “flow plow” i always misremember this as a subpop single so i’m like “i’m not amphetamine reptile biased?” but it was an a/r release, lol. brad wood produced it. lake michigan as hell unicorns - “jellybones” this song makes me sad ever since i didn’t get to adopt the jellybones cat oblivion - “clark” desmond dekker - “jeserene” veruca salt - “one last time” veruca salt on summerland!!!! dead moon - “dead moon night” extremely dead moon on summerland fishbone - “i like to hide behind my glasses” dead moon - “on my own” paw - “sleeping bag” tar - “goethe” doc dart - “casket with flowers” smashing pumpkins - “zero” i don’t want billy corgan on summerland and i am sorry for that kicking giant - “&” kicking giant on summerland lmao shockabilly - “pile up all architecture” ween - “sorry charlie” sublime - “april 29, 1992 (miami)” heatmiser - “blackout” the clash - “pressure drop” hellbender - “pissant’s retrospective” the queers - “i won’t be” the vindictives - “circles” the beat farmers - “selfish heart” screaming trees - “end of the universe” 7 year bitch - “second hand” bourgeois filth - “above” nirvana - “scoff” the breeders - “cannonball” saturday looks good to me - “save my life” cara beth satalino - “good ones” communique - “dagger version” soul asylum - “sometime to return” sublime - “jailhouse” tullycraft - “twee” nuns - “wild” beyonce - “countdown” the replacements - “sixteen blue” living colour - “what’s your favorite color” britney - “why should i be sad” mdc - “church and state” alice in chains - “junkhead” rage against the machine - “mic check” everclear - “nervous and weird” soundgarden - “fresh tendrils” helmet - “army of me” the gits - “it all dies anyway” pansy division - “smells like queer spirit” mtx - “i’d do anything for you” 5 year sentence - “just a punk” pennywise - “nothing” mudhoney - “thirteenth floor opening” yesterday’s kids - “eighteen” mxpx - “punk rawk show” small brown bike - “zerosum” incubus - “trouble in 421″ hanson - “speechless” incubus - “circles” dead moon - “my time has come” (!!!!) first of all is this killdozer blink-182 - “here’s your letter” everclear - “electra made me blind” (nervous & weird take) saves the day - “through being cool” groovie ghoulies - “don’t go out into the rain (you’re gonna melt)” babes in toyland - “never” husker du - “target” guzzard - “biro” fairweather - “next day flight” mcr - “house of wolves” broadcast - “until then” liz phair - “never said” the dicks - “rich daddy” quasi - “the iron worm” mustard plug - “not again” janitor joe - “boyfriend” snapcase - “new academy” neil young - “someday” blindsided - “spaceman” placebo - “without you i’m nothing” the creeps - “lakeside cabin” solomon grundy - “time is not your own” the clash - “the card cheat” silversun pickups - “common reactor” lagwagon - “leave the light on” denali - “where i landed” system of a down - “highway song” sprinkler - “personality doll” the vindictives - “structure and function” unplugged” the queers - “ursula finally has tits” we’re entering no repeats territory buffalo springfield - “expecting to fly” hit squad - “pictures of matchstick men” cows - “almost a god” hop along - “young and happy” pixies - “i’ve been tired” the fall - “spoilt victorian child” camper van chadbourne - “knock on the door” queens of the stone age - “tension head” choking victim - “war story” cool that we have gotten to drop by the greatest song ever recorded :) guttermount - “happy loving couples” audio karate - “nintendo 89″ tad - “pork chop” the kelley deal 6000 - “where did the home team go” colorfinger - “hateful” :} man or astroman - “evil plans of planet spectra” pere ubu - “arabian nights” accepting repeats for new found glory - “my friends over you” cool moving on american steel - “optimist” tom petty & the heartbreakers - “even the losers” meat puppets - “another moon” black cat music - “wine in a box” wallside - “ready” crucifucks - “pig in a blanket” the bananas - “my charmed life”

KILLDOZER - “EARL SCHEIB,” UNCOMPROMISING WAR ON ART UNDER THE DICTATORSHIP OF THE PROLETARIAT, 1994. KILLDOZER ON SUMMERLAND

#music

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argotmagazine-blog · 6 years ago

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Dear Worrier Princess: On Polyamory Pickles and College Coming Out Conundrums

Queery #1: Last summer I (32, queer) met someone (26, baby dyke) at the farmers market near my house, she lives in a town 2 hours away near the farm she works at. We started hanging out as friends and realized we had giant crushes on each other. We saw each other on & off through the winter. Now it’s April, & we really like each other, and have had fun sex a couple of times. The thing is: she says she doesn’t want a relationship—she’s busy farming, working 60+ hrs/wk and can’t commit to being in touch or making time to visit me. She also says she’s still processing her last relationship (5 yrs! her first queer relash!) so she needs to figure some stuff out. I totally get it. However, her actions are different from her words: she stays in touch a BUNCH and when we are together, she says a lotta stuff that feels VERY girlfriendy to me.

We both have established that we love hanging out, we feel fun and comfortable, we care a lot about each other, and we learn a lot from each other. I feel a lotta love between us although we haven’t said ILY but rn it doesn’t feel like we need that. For me, I really like her, I love hanging out w her. At the same time, I DO want to be in a relationship, but I don’t think a monogamous long-distance relationship would work for me. If I’m going to date someone I have needs! and want to have a lot of sex!! And only seeing someone like every other week *at most* doesn't feel enough, and if we’re monogamous, maybe there’d be a lot of pressure on those times to have a good time.

She is not comfortable with polyamory, specifically with me having sex with other people in the same time period as with her. My question is about ethics, tact, care, and timing:: Should I break up with her now, knowing that inevitably I will be boning some local person? There is no one else in the picture right now but I would like to be dating people; I also really don’t want her to feel like a “placeholder,” you know? That would feel like a shitty dynamic. Or, should we continue to “love each other while we can”? We’ve tried being just friends before and it was sad, there’s like this string that keeps wrapping each other together. Should I keep hanging out with her until it gets to a point where I am seeing another local person and want to bone them too? I’m feeling stuck between a rock & a hard spot, & it feels like an ethical decision which i don’t have the answer for. I want to be responsible and not be a douchebag.

I did not expect to see the words “she lives in a town 2 hours away” followed by “long-distance relationship.” As a lesbian from the Midwest, I have driven two hours for really good beef jerky and that is NOT a double-entendre. Two hours is not long-distance in my book, but I digress. We’re talking about you, not me and my horndog travels.

You’re in a pickle—an organic, free-range pickle from the farmers market, but still a pickle. You want an open relationship. Your farm boo does not. You want to spend more time together, but she’s overwhelmed by a semi-recent heartbreak and intense farming schedule. Neither of you are willing to compromise. This is a situation I see all the time here at Dear Worrier Princess: two people recognize that fundamental aspects of relationship aren’t working, but they stay together because the relationship is familiar and has redeeming qualities like good sex, rapport, or mutual love and care.

To be honest, it sounds like your farm boo is someone who wants what she wants when she wants it. The following sentences set off some alarms for me: “she can’t commit to being in touch or making time to visit me” followed by “she stays in touch a BUNCH and when we are together, she says a lotta stuff that feels VERY girlfriendy.” This is a boundaries issue and it’s 100% something you should discuss with her. Say something like, “It’s confusing for me when you say our relationship is one way, but then you text me frequently and say things like [EXAMPLE 1] and [EXAMPLE 2].” Similarly, you keep deciding to be friends and sliding back into romance-territory. This doesn’t mean you’re fated to be together, it means you need better boundaries and a solid chunk of time without any contact. I’m also wondering, during these stretches when you’re supposed to be friends, who escalates things? Who sends the first sext? Might be something to think about.

Is it wrong to date someone you don’t want to be with forever? No. I think most relationships fall into this camp. As long as you’re mindful not create a placeholder dynamic (which I interpret to mean becoming a dismissive or callous partner), it’s fine to see an end on the horizon. However, it’s never as simple as, “we’ll just date until things naturally end.” Even in the best of circumstances, breakups are hard. What if you meet someone available and local, but you’re still raw from the breakup? What if you struggle to establish post-breakup boundaries with your farm boo and this causes tension in your new relationship?

My advice is to set a course towards friendship, though I also understand how difficult it can be to end a relationship without the solid impetus of a fight or someone new. Ask yourself: if I end this relationship now, will I regret not spending more time together? If I keep seeing her, will my feelings become stronger and make it more difficult to separate? Is the agony is worth the ecstasy? Only you can decide.

Queery #2: Last semester (my first semester of college) I was pretty into this girl I thought was straight or at least very closeted. Almost immediately after returning to school after winter break we both got very drunk and ended up hooking up that night. Since then we've continued to see each other and the relationship seems to be getting more and more serious; however, only as long as we are in very private spaces. The only people who know about it are my friends and her friends all seem to believe that I am tragically in love with her, a straight girl. I have never been in any sort of serious relationship, I only first hooked up with a girl last semester but I've been out and open about my sexuality with those close to me for the past three years. I've tried to initiate conversations with her about this, which is hard as she freezes up with any sort of difficult topic that requires talking about ones emotions. We've gotten a little better at these conversations lately and it seems like she also wants a more serious relationship and wants to be able to be more public about it. In the past few weeks she has told one of the people she is living with as well as a close friend but it still seems like we're stuck in this strange place. I don't want to pressure her to do anything she feels very uncomfortable doing and I also recognize that feeling like I am, in a way, going back into the closet to be there with her is unhealthy for me. How do I keep my frustration for our current situation from clouding the good parts, if that's possible? Lately this is about all I think about or want to talk about and I find myself often getting stuck on these negative aspects. How can I best support her without damaging my own wellbeing?

While reading this queery, I realized that my first semester of college was TEN YEARS AGO. My mom drove me to Staples to buy an ethernet cable because my my dorm didn’t have wifi—that’s how we lived in 2009. I can confirm, in extreme retrospect, that your first year of college is overwhelming. It’s no small thing to leave home for the first time, make new friends, and balance coursework/relationships/a job. And then, on top of all that, your girlfriend is smacked with her own queerness and everything it entails. It’s a lot!

It doesn’t help that “coming out" is one of those those terms like “hooking up” or “middle class”—we pretend it’s this definite thing, when it actually means something different to everyone. As a femme lesbian, I come out to new people when it feels safe and pertinent. My butch friends, on the other hand, rarely get to come out on their own terms. Some people take years to come out, others make a snap decision and tell the world via Facebook. I have friends who are openly gay in the United States, but are closeted to their parents and extended families in their countries-of-origin. Sometimes I get DMs from women who say Instagram is their only queer outlet because marriage and other life circumstances make coming out impossible. On the opposite end of the spectrum, I meet a lot of young people who grew up in affirming homes and were exposed to queer adults and culture at an early age. All this to say that I totally agree with you: you can’t pressure your girlfriend to come out before she’s ready. I applaud you for recognizing that her life and decisions are hers and hers alone.

None of this changes the fact that your relationship makes you feel Bad. When you’ve escaped the deep closet, dating someone who’s struggling with self-acceptance can dredge up all sorts of insecurities and painful memories. It feels shitty to be someone’s secret; it implies that your sexuality is shameful and wrong. Like, have you ever had a friend who body-shamed themselves constantly and said stuff like “I’m so fat and disgusting”? Even though their comments aren’t directed at you, you come away feeling self-conscious and weird. Shame is contagious like that.

All relationships require compromise, but how do you know when you’re compromising too much? What do you owe yourself and what do you owe your partner? I ask myself these questions all the time. Kind of recently, I dated someone who habitually snapped at me. Like one time, we were walking dogs in a snowstorm and I joked that I could kick snow over the poop and it would be the perfect crime. They were full-on like, “THAT WILL CONTAMINATE OUR WATER SUPPLY.” It stung. Despite all this, I liked them a lot. I was in extreme cuffing mode and really, really wanted to be in a relationship. We talked it over and I left the conversation feeling hopeful. They acknowledged their outbursts and apologized, but the snapping kept happening to varying degrees. I could still feel the worst part of our relationship wearing me down. I kept second-guessing myself: “am I annoying? Am I difficult to spend time with? Is everything I say stupid and destructive to Wisconsin waterways?”

I turned to a friend for advice. L, who recently ended a complicated and bittersweet relationship, had the perfect response. I’m going to leave you with the text she sent me: “It’s your choice to stay in an imperfect relationship. Just make sure you’re staying because y’all are communicating openly and making the necessary changes. Stay cause you have a plan and solid reasons to believe things will get better, NOT cause you’re afraid of hurting her or afraid of being alone.”

dear worrier princess answers your qs about love and strife in relationships in this complex and modern queer world.

shoot an email to [email protected] or fill out the form below.

Maddy Court is an artist and writer based in Madison, WI. Keep up with her on Twitter @worrierprincess, or on instagram @xenaworrierprincess.

All illustrations for this column are done by Sid Champagne. Sid is a freelance illustrator based in Baltimore by way of the Gulf Coast. You can find them on Twitter @sid_champagne, or Instagram (more cat pics) @sidchampagne

#dwp #dear worrier princess #maddy court #sid champagne #advice #advice column

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katana-no-neko · 6 years ago

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#34 & #62

34: Who/what was your last dream about?

Hmm… I rarely remember my dreams, just lemme think back…

Oh yeah, a couple weeks ago, I dreamed that opening scene of the first episode of Friends where they’re kinda introducing the characters, they’re all hanging out at the coffee house, but with my IRL friends in their places. It’s actually a recurring dream and I think it means I watch too much Friends.

62: What makes you happy?

A summer breeze through soft, green grass. Dandelions. The sounds of a babbling brook or a water fountain. Bare feet digging their toes in the soft mud of the creek at my grandpa’s farm. Helicopter seeds. The four deer that hang out behind my building at night. The colors of a deep sunset. The night sky on a clear evening.

My grandma’s chili. Going to her house to eat it and spending time with my family watching whatever sitcom my grandparents have been watching. Playing board games with my family and friends. Opening a good bar of dark chocolate and getting that first whiff of the rich flavor that awaits. When someone buys a treat specially because they knew you liked it. Bonfires and s’mores.

Having one of my great grandma’s scotcharoos at every family or church event because she makes them for every single one. Playing the white elephant gift exchange with other relatives even though we all end up with crap we don’t want except for the two people that managed to snag alcohol or beef jerky or candy.

My cats - Ninja, the sweet and soft fattie that’s kind of a dick to other cats but lovely to every person ever; Siz, the orange stripey asshat that Mom wouldn’t let me name Kyo; and Nixi, the black-and-white little lady that was temporarily named Mootah but didn’t have near the personality to fill that name.

Watching anime with my mom. Obsessing over Nalu. Getting praise for the things I’ve created, be it fanfiction, artwork, or what-have-you. Listening to music and doing nothing at all. The satisfaction of beating a boss or figuring out a puzzle after the longest time of being stuck on it. Watching Jack and Mark and Pewds freak out at stuff. The excitement of seeing a long-left fanfiction get updated. The comforting feeling of watching a sitcom or movie for the umpteenth time. Watching a Ghibli or Disney movie and getting caught up in the absolute magic even after the hundredth viewing. Buying a new piece of merch and being able to yell about how awesome it is.

Impromptu Disney karaoke. Singing in the car with friends. The joy of finding a new song to add to the playlist. Hearing a song you love and bursting out into singing no matter how tone-deaf you are.

Playing Barbies and My Little Pony with my little sisters. Getting construction-paper cards covered with scribbles and oblong hearts and whatever stickers they had laying around.

Playing video games with one group of my little brothers and my dad. Trading Pokemon cards with the brothers even though I’ve stopped caring as much for a couple years now. Beating my youngest in that group of brothers at Smash Brothers and wiping the smug look off his face. Having in-depth conversations about games we like that make us seem like maybe we spend too much time on screens.

Talking to my almost-same-aged sister about anything and everything when she’s actually online for once. Having her tease me about corn because I live in the midwest.

Reacting to my stepmom’s random Facebook tags of pickle popsicles because she knows I love pickles. Seeing a fresh jar of pickled okra and a big tub of Nutella in the fridge and cupboard every time I visit for the summer because she knows I love those, too.

Coloring and playing with stickers with another chunk of my little brothers. Watching one of them suck at Mario but get so excited because he managed to get past the piranha plant in the first level of Mario Bros. 3. Watching the other one walk right off a cliff and say “Uh-oh!”

Playing Dr. Mario with my mom because she’s been obsessed with that game since we got the NES Classic for Christmas. Watching her get frustrated at me when I beat her and then force me to play again so she can win and then have her frustrated if I purposefully lose because I’m sick of playing.

Seeing my stepdad pose whatever new action figure he’s gotten last on his shelf that doesn’t seem like it can hold a single one more.

My irl friends’ group chat, where I can yell about whatever anime thing is going on that nobody understands. The memes we share. The comfort of having a group of people who care about me gathered in one place where we can share our grievances, excitement, and despair.

Seeing my Tumblr friends appear on my dash. Being tagged in some mundane post or tag game. Having random conversations in the notes of a post. Using asks to be weird and fun with each other.

Having something to be happy about.

#wow the second answer got really long #sorry #asks #answered asks #haleigh answers an ask #katana-no-neko #kaycha1989 #happiness #family #friends #f.r.i.e.n.d.s #thank you for the ask!#too many things to tag

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sandwichbully · 6 years ago

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Cajun Boiling, 24 November 2018

Let me tell you about white women from the Midwest. That got your attention, didn’t it? There are a few things you should know. Such as all white women born between the Appalachians and the Rockies in the years from nineteen seventy eight to nineteen eighty four know all the words to Sir Mix-A-Lot’s “Baby Got Back”. Don’t believe me? Do you have a white woman in your life? Go over to her right now and say, “Oh, my god, Becky, look at her butt,” and then stand back because shit’s about to pop off. Trust me. I know lots of white women born between the Appalachians and the Rockies in the years from nineteen seventy eight to nineteen eighty four and I have been trapped in the car with two sometimes three of them for hours at a time. Sometimes, they break into it totally unprovoked. The women I know born in, say, California? No idea what I’m talking about. Women born in London? No idea what I’m talking about. But you pull some forty year old HR senior coordinator aside, find out she was born in Chillicothe? And I’m talking Chillicothe, Illinois; Chillicothe, Iowa; Chillicothe, Missouri; Chillicothe, Ohio (represent); or even Chillicothe, Texas. You tell her you like big butts and you cannot lie and she’ll finish the fucking song for you. AAAnnnddd another thing about white women that is absolutely one hundred percent true and not at all a stereotype - As though I would ever dream about casting stereotypes! - is that they all, at some point, make a pilgrimage to Jerusalem New Orleans, Louisiana to visit the Wailing Wall French Quarter. And then all these white women come back home and something is different about them, something you can’t quite put your finger on, something that’s first exhibited when you ask said white woman, “How was New Orleans?” And she answers with, “Uh, no, it’s pronounced ‘Nawlins’.” And she’ll go on and on about the architecture there and how cool it was to drink in the streets and yeah yeah yeah, the whatever of the depth of humanity and warmness or whatever but (here it comes), oh, my god, the po’ boys. This is where life and conversation as you know it have each officially twisted into something altogether different from their original forms because now everything is tied to chiding you for having never had a po’ boy. “Oh, my gawd, how have you never had a po’ boy!?” exclaims the white woman who had one for only the first time last week. “I can’t believe you’ve never had a po’ boy!” “You have got to try a po’ boy!” “Oh, my god, I would literally kill for a shrimp po’ boy!” “The best shrimp po’ boy I ever had was in Nawlins!” “It’s not a real po’ boy unless you get it in Nawlins, you know. I mean, that’s just my opinion but still. Just saying.” A white woman goes to New Orleans one time and comes back changed forever. That forty year old from one of five possible Chillicothes? She went to New Orleans when she was nineteen and she will, to this day, insist that you are an amoral dilettante brute because you’ve not had a po’ boy specifically from a place pronounced Nawlins. And if you’re one of my white woman friends and you think I’m singling you out, I’m singling you out with at least five other white women. You are indeed not the only white woman I know who has this thing about po’ boys from Nawlins.* Well, today, I wasn’t in Nawli- shit, now they got me doing it. I wasn’t in New Orleans but I figured I would give Cajun Boiling a try because it’s almost forty degrees out, still warm enough to ride two blocks to grab - wait for it - a catfish po’ boy. Which isn’t a real po’ boy, keep in mind, because it’s not from Nawlins. Whatever, I just needed lunch. So with 60mL of CBD oil in me, I headed down to Cajun Boiling, in the space that used to be home to the Reverie and, before that, the Acadia.** I walked in and the place was dead. Two servers both on their phones, one kid working the counter, one guy in the kitchen, and I was literally the only customer. OK, I know it’s chilly out today but it’s Saturday. It’s going to get to almost forty (4.4°C), guaranteed over thirty five (1.7°C), this isn’t cold at all except you won’t find me biking recreationally in this.*** And I look over the joint and, yep, we got our misogyny out of the way, make wwwaaayyy for the racism: It’s staffed completely by... Asian... people. At a Cajun restaurant. Which, yeah, sounds racist but, no, no, it just, no, yeah, it, it just sounds racist. That’s my bad. Nothing says Asian folks can’t make Cajun food but... Well, if you were to walk into an Indian joint and you saw it was staffed by me and all my white women friends, wouldn’t you be like, “Huh.” Nothing says our little alabaster coalition can’t make tandoori chicken and palak paneer but aren’t you going to be a little more critical of it? I mean, face it, you’re racist, too. [I have just been informed that New Orleans has a large Vietnamese community, thus it proves I am ignorant.] The nice kid at the counter took my order - catfish† po’ boy to go - and I take a seat and blow through all my lives in Toon Blast and then I kind of wait and wonder what’s taking so long. I am, after all, the literal only customer.

Anyway, I get my sandwich after another couple minutes and bring it home. I am in the middle of doing laundry during this. Well, serving size? I guess it seemed a little skimpy for ten dollars but then not every po’ boy can be the Google Images Po’ Boy Model, which, now that I’m looking at it, I can see, no, this was the right size. Cajun Boiling’s po’ boy comes fixed with lettuce, mayo, mustard, pickle, and tomato. None of those things were particularly stand-out-ish save for that the pickle was sweet rather than dill but that was noticeable, not stand-out-ish. The catfish could have been cod for all I know. I liked the crispiness of the breading but the fish could have used some seasoning. This probably falls on me, though. See, I grew up on smoked catfish and that’s still what I have a taste for to this day. I like the taste of smoked catfish, that’s the draw for me and, unfortunately, my expectation. I can’t knock Cajun Boiling for their breaded and deep fried catfish not tasting like smoked catfish. However, some seasoning might have been nice.

Trust me, aside from the one time I used Dave and Laura’s Lemon Pepper Mrs. Dash, this is the only seasoning I used until I was like twenty nine. But the real... Wait, we might have used the best one yesterday when we thought that was the last one for the year. Hm... OK, let’s try... But the real time travelling member of the Hashtag Resistance attempting to go back in time to “woke” baby Hitler instead of murdering him because “when they go low, we go high” was the bread. I know I don’t often praise the bread which is funny because this is a sandwich blog. If it weren’t for bread, there would be no sandwich, I get that. But I think I take it for granted, even bitch about it sometimes, or I just give it fleeting praise. In this case, however, this was the component that gave me pause as I was eating the sandwich. It had a hint of fermented sour to it but not enough to be sourdough and had a similar gluten elasticity and a rich brown crust... I mean, this bread outshone all the other elements of this sandwich. On the whole, rating this sandwich fairly, I liked this sandwich but it wasn’t a $9.99 sandwich. Like $6.99. And you can’t argue to me that it’s because catfish comes at a premium because the sandwich costs the same whether you get it with catfish, chicken strips (chicken strips), crab, or shrimp. (It’s an extra dollar if you want oysters, though.) The veggies were unremarkable and the catfish could have used some seasoning but, yeah, I know, it’s not from Nawlins so it doesn’t count anyway. I’m looking at their takeout menu and I’m not seeing fish & chips, which I know is an entirely different animal that I shouldn’t expect to see on a Cajun menu but that’s my primary expectation for a seafood joint: To get some fish & chips. So that’s on me. This menu, however, does offer among its sides some of the fixings you’d find at a New England clambake.

Corn on the cob, potatoes (no word on how they’re prepared), hushpuppies... You can even bundle these together into a combo meal with crawdads and crab legs and such and I think that that would be the way to go: Get a one pound crab leg meal or something. The po’boy, however, I wouldn’t recommend but I wouldn’t advise you against it. It’s not bad but I’m sure there are better. Like in Nawlins.

* If you’re one of the two white women who gushed to me about the muffuletta from Nawlins, don’t worry, I have not camped you with the po’ boy crowd. You’re still a little weird but you’re my kind of weird. We’re cool. ** Went on a first date at their new location with a prison shrink once who showed me her dirty selfies and I was like, “Cool.” Only other time I was there was to use the ATM. *** Which pisses me off. Almost sixty yesterday but it rained all day. Now it’s dry and it won’t hardly hit forty. † Even as I’m trying to transition into my pescatarian / pollotarian phase (*snort* yeah, right, and give up pastrami), I’m really over the shrimp phase in my life. There’s nothing appealing about paying a premium for a dead animal whose carcass you get to labor over pulling its shit from.

#2018 #Stevens Square #Po' Boy #The Big Easy

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sentrava · 6 years ago

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Oklahoma City’s Art Game is Strong: Check Out These Creative Stops

I didn’t used to consider myself as an artist. Even though I’ve been writing and dabbling in photography for more than 20 years now, I think of others as creatives and myself as analytical (I started out as a math major after all!). But then I find art in places Oklahoma City, which are brimming with color and driven by creative spark, and realize that these trailblazers and I have something in common: We all create. And by mere definition of the word, I suppose that makes me an artist, too.

And whether I choose to photograph murals and sculptures rather than paint and mold them myself, I’m still a seeker of beauty, which is one of the many reasons I adore OKC and its diversity of offerings. There’s art everywhere you look, from the angular buildings to the many museums and attractions designed to appeal to both visitors and residents.

If you’re heading to Oklahoma City for the first time, you’ll be surprised to find this metropolis—a fusion of Southern, Southwestern and Midwest culture—has a distinct art scene all of its own.

The hotels

Let’s start with where you should stay. While I have nothing against big chain hotels and stay in plenty of them through my travels, if given the option of a boutique, I’m going to choose it every single time. And 21c is more than a boutique; it’s an actual museum that invites and encourages you to become a part of the art.

My first experience staying at one of the hotel collection’s properties was in Louisville many years ago, and the industrial-style setting punctuated by bold art and those iconic colorful penguins made me an insta-fan. Nashville also got its own iteration last year, but neither of those can compare to the 21c Museum Hotel Oklahoma City. From the moment we stepped foot inside the 21c, I knew it was going to rank up there as one of my favorite hotels visited ever.

To start, it’s located in an old Ford Motor Company assembly plant. One thing you need to know about the founders of 21c is that they take old spaces and fit their hotel to match the building and its history; even the permanent installations like the Mechanical Magic and the River of Time, designed to channel a conveyor belt, follow suit.

Fittingly, the hotel opened on the 100th anniversary of the building two years back. Whereas they could have easily chopped up the 135 rooms and added double the accommodations, the hotel designers instead opted to use the lofty ceilings and wide-open spaces to create a dreamy stay for every single guest, no matter what level of room you book. There are rooms as low as $183, too—or $95, if you work for the federal government!—which is a steal for this caliber of property and this much space (deluxe rooms range from 400 to 600 square feet, while suites are anywhere from 655 to 1505 square feet).

It’s fitting that the 21c Museum Hotel OKC is located in the Film Row district, which was once a distribution center for major Hollywood studios (Paramount Pictures, MGM), as it shares that flair for the dramatic. The owners rotate works from their own permanent art collection into their various hotels, swapping out the exhibits every eight to 12 months. During our stay, Pop Stars! was on display, with depictions of many of my favorite icons like Oprah, Lady Gaga and Britney Spears lighting up the 14,000 square feet of exhibition space. This exhibit will live at the Oklahoma hotel through next February.

There’s also a hotel restaurant and lounge, Mary Eddy’s, that channels this unique, creative vibe with dishes such as a watermelon and popcorn creation with avocado, herb puree, feta and sprinkled with tasso spice, or an avocado toast tower comprising tomato, mizuna, pickled shallots, buttermilk vinaigrette and pepita. We ate both dinner and brunch at Mary Eddy’s, and it’s not your average hotel restaurant, that’s for sure!

Summer months bring a number of fun, often free, events at the hotel, and like the museum itself, they’re open to the public. We were there for the summer film series, held on Friday, and the place was swarming with locals. For those who want to do a deep dive into the art collection itself, there are also free docent tours every Wednesday and Friday throughout the year.

If you’re looking for something a bit more traditional by way of a hotel, on our first visit to OKC last year we stayed at the historic, Art Deco-style Colcord Hotel downtown, which is equally swoon-worthy and bears the distinction of being the first skyscraper in Oklahoma City.

The murals

We spent our first two visits in Oklahoma City photographing more than 30 murals, many of which we found tucked away beneath underpasses and down hidden alleys out of plain sight while wandering aimlessly, and there are still plenty we didn’t get. I love that in a city right smack in Middle America has such a devotion to the arts that neighborhoods like the Plaza District have walls that rotate with the seasons, meaning you’ll always find something new.

The museums

From the moment I walked through the door of the Oklahoma Museum of Art and saw a massive 55-foot-tall Chihuly sculpture fashioned from 2,400 pieces of glass stretching from the floor to the ceiling, I knew this place was my style. On our first visit, we oohed and aahed over the Dale Chihuly: Magic & Light exhibit in the main gallery—the OKCMOA boasts one of the largest Chihuly collections in the world—while on our return last month, Isabelle de Borchgrave’s Fashioning Art from Paper exhibit was the big draw for us. No matter what’s traveling through the museum, you’d be wise to pop in for an hour and peruse the 11,000 square feet of modern art.

I’ll admit when I first heard about the National Cowboy & Western Heritage Museum, I assumed it was going to be, well … not my speed. I’ve never seen an old-fashioned Western (guilty!), and not growing up in that part of the country, my art tastes lean more contemporary. I quickly realized why you should go into every experience with no preconceived notions as this massive sprawl of a museum whose collection spans 30,000 items is riveting and has something for everyone (including a recreation of an old Western town for the kiddos). If you only have one day in Oklahoma City, the National Cowboy & Western Heritage Museum should get a coveted spot on your itinerary.

Of course, OKC has plenty of other noteworthy museums, in particular the incredibly poignant Oklahoma City National Memorial & Museum at the site of the former Federal Building where the 1995 bombing took place. The American Indian Cultural Center and Museum is also going to be a huge deal when it opens in 2021.

The architecture

Devon Energy Center dominates the skyline of OKC like a shard of cobalt, reflecting the blue-bird skies and puffy clouds whipping in the wind over the city with a clarity that is stunning to the eye. The oil and gas company anchors the legacy of the early 20th century when the black gold was discovered across the footprint of the state capitol and extraction businesses were a dime a dozen. The architectural aesthetic is grand, and the company made sure to use an interesting mix of sustainable wood, modern energy efficiencies and exotic stones throughout to achieve LEED-NC status. The main floor is open to the public—and worthy of a stop because the acoustics in a few particular spots are akin to sound magic, with effortless renderings of whispers reflecting back from the 13-story rotunda. For a ride to the top, either visit the Vast OKC restaurant or take one of their guided tours.

The view from 49 stories up peers down upon Myriad Gardens, Cox Center, Bricktown and the land being revitalized into the new MAPS 3 Downtown Convention Center and adjacent Scissortail Park, which will almost immediately connect to the over 50 miles of city-wide loops and paved running and bicycling trails. The MAPS program is one of the most fascinatingly successful, community-driven improvement projects we’ve ever seen. If you’re a nerd on smart urban development (and SVV is just that), you can read more about it there.

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Right across the street from Devon in the heart of downtown, the 15-acre Myriad Botanical Gardens is a true oasis with gardens, a playground, off-leash dog park, splash fountains, walking paths, restaurant with counter service and more. But the focal point is the Crystal Bridge conservatory, which houses waterfalls, a skybridge and 750 species of plants.

If you’re looking to see some of the most stunning homes in the city, hop in a car or a Lyft and head due north from downtown into Heritage Hills, the city’s first Historic Preservation district and inevitably where SVV and I would manage to find the good bones of a home to renovate were we ever to relocate to Oklahoma City (I’m not ruling anything out at this point). As its name implies, Paseo Arts District also has a certain artistry to its homes, galleries and businesses thanks to its Spanish revival architecture.

**********

What I’m saying is this: There’s no shortage of pretty things to look at in Oklahoma City; it’s a city of shapes, color and surprises. Bonus points for creating an environmentally-conscious, smart, activity-focused and mobility-driven city, to boot.

Need more travel tips to OKC? Start here:

The Best Murals in Oklahoma City

Urban Whitewater Rafting in Oklahoma City

11 Reasons We’re Obsessed with OKC

This post is part of a long-term content project with Visit OKC. All opinions are my own.

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Oklahoma City’s Art Game is Strong: Check Out These Creative Stops published first on https://medium.com/@OCEANDREAMCHARTERS

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deannawads · 6 years ago

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Meet Michael from MURDER MOST LOVELY, a book co-written by Hank Edwards & ME!

I’m so excited to officially announce that Hank Edwards and I wrote a book together!!!

It will be coming out early next year! It’s entitled:

MURDER MOST LOVELY

Lacetown Murder Mysteries: Case One

It’s weird and awesome how things turn out sometimes, and when you least expect it. I’m so happy that I’ve had the chance to go on this fabulous journey with the super talented Hank Edwards. Writing with him has been so effortless that it’s a bit surreal. Our styles mesh so well, sometimes I can’t remember which of us wrote what sentence LOL

It all started on February 3, 2018 at 9:26 PM, I sent Hank these DMs on Facebook:

“Full disclosure: I’m drinking tonight lol…..but I think we should write a book together #justsayin”

“It would be EPIC!”

Hank thought it would be epic fun too, though he’d never co-authored a book together. I have, though it still remains unpublished. I’ve long been a fan of Hank’s books and our humor is so similar, I thought it seemed like a grand idea to co-write something together.

And it wasn’t just the whisky talking LOL.

We both belong to the Michigan LGBTQ Writers—though I’m the Michigan-born Ohio-raised exception in the group, and we see each other often at local Pride events. We always have a ton of fun when we are together, so I assumed we would easily be able to write together.

But what to write?

That it would be a gay romance was a no-brainer, but the sub-genres were endless. We’ve both written YA, historical, contemporary and paranormal, so our options were broad to say the least. I suggested even writing a book based off Billy Joel’s song Uptown Girl and calling to Uptown Boy, LOL

Through a few more chats, Hank had this pearl:

“I think, just knowing our writing styles, we could write the ever-loving fuck out of a contemporary rom-com. What do you think?”

Well, I totally agreed!

So with a genre decided, we needed a game plan. Thinking we should come up with a central setting, I spewed off a laundry list of settings—gay bar, funeral parlor, casino, a sexy house cleaning service with happy endings, a real comic book super hero. Hank narrowed it down and I loved the idea!

“Hello! And I like the idea of a central setting. Would be awesome if it became a series. I like your suggestions, and I think the beauty salon idea is great since you’ve got some really good knowledge about that area. I know nothing about it, but funeral parlor really jumped out at me and made me laugh. What about a beauty salon AND a funeral home in a small Midwest town, like OH or MI? Like, would someone from the beauty shop be hired to work on the bodies at the local funeral home?”

And so MURDER MOST LOVELY was born….

We have had a blast writing our Lacetown Murder Mysteries that we would like to involve you in a part of our writing process. With our setting decided, we needed to create our mortician and our hairdresser. I thought it would be good if we each just created one character then we put them together and see what happens. Though my day job is a cosmetologist, Hank created our hairdresser hero and I happily made up the mortician.

It was so much fun making up a character then sending it off to Hank as I excitedly waited to see whom he had created. It was almost like I was a matchmaker for my character but I had no idea who Hank was sending on his blind date!

Meet Michael Fleishman, age 42

Michael is a mortician who runs the Fleishman Funeral Parlor in Lacetown, Michigan, and he has been the county coroner for 13 years. He is quiet and awkward Jewish man, and he doesn’t date a lot or have many fiends besides his gregarious grandpa who still calls him Mikey, and his fat black-and-white tabby cat Mr. Pickles Furryton the Third—the latter goes with him to the funeral parlor every day.

I envisioned Michael looking like a geeky version of Luke Wilson, but with glasses. He is fastidious in his attire, and always polite yet very reserved. He’s awkward in his own skin, but as we all know, still waters run deep. That’s why I made Michael a Virgo, the most uptight of all horoscope signs IMO, but also the biggest freak between the sheets. Which you can imagine, led to some fun options for our—at the time—unwritten MSS.

Michael is an avid mystery reader and often fantasizes about solving a mystery like his favorite fictional character Brock Hammer. Not that such a thing would ever happen in the sleepy Lake Michigan village of Lacetown. The most exciting case Michael’s ever been called on to work was when Mrs. Briarwood caught her husband in bed with Abigail Smithers from the Marathon Station, and shot him with a crossbow in the scrotum.

Please enjoy the first half of chapter one of MURDER MOST LOVELY—Lacetown Murder Mysteries Case One. For the second half of the chapter and a chance to learn how Hank created Michael’s soon-to-be paramour visit this link: https://www.hankedwardsbooks.com/2018/10/06/murder-most-lovely/

Murder Most Lovely

Lacetown Murder Mysteries: Case One

Chapter One

Mr. Pickles will be so excited when I get home, Michael Fleishman thought.

Well, he wasn’t really sure if the taciturn cat would care if he had ten of his Brock Hammer novels signed by the author, but Michael would be excited.

He parked his tan Camry in the last available angled parking space on Main Street, unable to believe his luck finding a place to park. He ordinarily would’ve walked, living so close, but he wouldn’t risk getting any of his paperbacks or the two hardcovers wet in the rain.

Lacetown was crowded for the Great Lakes Literary Fest. Today was the first day of the three day festival, and sadly the tail end of a late-spring storm front. The festival kicked off the busy tourist season for their lakeside village and, despite the rain, the streets were busy with fans and visitors hunched under umbrellas visiting all the authors at the afternoon signing event. The lesser-known authors were trying to stay dry under tents in the town square, but most of the big name authors had been moved indoors for their signings, the bars and restaurants serving as makeshift bookstores.

And in Michael’s mind, there weren’t many big names in fiction that he wanted to meet more than Russell Withingham.

He’d checked the festival website before leaving the house and knew Mr. Withingham would be inside Kelsey’s Bar & Grill. There was a small line forming outside already so Michael grabbed his bag of books and his umbrella, and then hurried to join them.

A woman he didn’t recognize in line in front of him smiled and he nodded politely. There were always strange faces in their little Lake Michigan lakeside town during the summer. Tourists mostly, and this weekend literary fans.

The crashing sound of waves drew Michael’s attention behind him. Main Street ended at Route 412 and on the other side a boardwalk overlooking their unswimmable portion of Lake Michigan. Large waves crested, crashing in places over the spacious boardwalk stretching the length of town. He spied a few unfortunate tourists who didn’t have the wherewithal to see the obvious safety hazard of being out there when the lake was unhappy.

Hoping no one would be hurt, he adjusted his bag on his shoulder and tried to keep his umbrella from poking the lady’s in front of him. Fleishman Funeral Home only had gigantic golf umbrellas for services, and he was glad for it when the rain picked up and a gust blew mist onto his glasses. He shoved them in his front shirt pocket, knowing there would be no use keeping them clean until he was inside.

“Shit, I thought this rain was supposed to let up this afternoon,” a deep masculine voice from behind Michael said.

Michael turned and drew up short.

“Whoa there, pal, you could take an eye out with that thing.”

For a heartbeat Michael froze and just stared.

The man in line behind him had a long face and wheat colored hair swept back from a low brow and into a ponytail. Eyes the color of cognac had just enough sparkle to make Michael smile and conjure thoughts of mischief and long summer romances.

And you’re staring at him like a ninny!

Michael hastily stepped back so as to not poke the gorgeous man in the eye with his umbrella. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, watch it,” the lady in front of him snapped. “You’re soaking me!”

Michael jumped when he realized his big umbrella had slipped beneath hers and was funneling water right onto her.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” he said at once, stepping back the other way.

“Whoa, whoa,” ponytail guy said again, reaching up to take hold of the eye-level pin on Michael’s umbrella. “How about I just join you?” And then he stepped under the huge umbrella with Michael.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Michael managed, squirming a little. “There’s plenty of room.”

The man used both hands to brush a few wayward strands of blond hair off his face, his tanned skin glistening from the rain. He wore a ring on a long well-manicured index finger. Smiling, he held out a hand. “I’m Jazz Dilworth.”

What a strange name. Sounds like something in a mystery novel.

He quickly shook the proffered hand. “Michael Fleishman.”

Jazz flipped a thumb behind him. “I work across the street at Misty’s Makeover Palace.” He furrowed tidy brows. “Fleishman, like the funeral parlor?”

“Eew,” the lady in front of him said with a distinct Valley Girl attitude.

Michael maintained his polite mortician smile. Sadly, he was used to the reaction.

Hence his lackluster love life.

Expecting Jazz to make some equally grossed out remark and leave the safety of the umbrella, Michael looked back at him.

But Jazz was smiling, his white teeth radiant and even. “That explains the planet-sized umbrella. Only ever see those at funerals and on golf courses.”

Michael’s facial muscles softened, and the smile he gave Jazz was more genuine, relaxed. “Yeah, they come in handy.”

Jazz grinned, “I bet they do.”

This man was gorgeous. He had to be younger than Michael. But more importantly, he had the potential for being gay since he was a hairdresser. Well aware of his stereotyping, Michael was nonetheless hopeful.

Michael wasn’t the best flirt, but sharing an umbrella with an attractive man in front of a bar acting as a makeshift bookstore felt like the opening of a rom-com, so he was ready to give it the ol’ college try.

“Are you a fan of the Brock Hammer novels too?” he asked, glad his glasses were in his pocket. Jazz stood so close Michael didn’t even need them to clearly see his handsome face.

Jazz scoffed. “Used to be.”

“Oh.” Michael’s heart fell. So much for common interests. “Did you know this line is to meet him?”

“I know, all right. The fucker’s been ducking my calls for weeks.”

Michael flinched at the man’s crass remark. “You know Russell Withingham?”

“Married to him,” Jazz said. “Separated.”

So he is gay… Michael shook his head. “Wait, what?”

Those warm brown eyes met his, and Jazz smiled. “Separated,” he said again. “Permanently. He’s supposed to still be making my car payment, and I just got a call from the bank. He hasn’t made the last two payments.”

Michael didn’t know if he was more disappointed to find out his favorite author was a jerk, or excited to know the man under his umbrella was gay and single.

Well, possibly single.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Michael offered.

Jazz shrugged. “Nothing for you to be sorry for,” he quipped. “In fact, I should be thanking you for sharing your umbrella with me. Nothing worse than running into an ex with your hair all soaking wet, looking like a hot mess. I wanna look good when I tell him off. You know, make him regret losing me.”

Michael couldn’t help his involuntary head-to-toe sweep of Jazz’s solid body. Any man who would give up all that hunkiness had to be nuts.

Oh the things Michael would do with him if he could. I’d drip hot candle wax on each of his nipples while I rode….

Awkward, Michael cleared his throat when he realized Jazz was staring right at him. Michael’s face heated. Thankfully the guy couldn’t read his thoughts. “I’m sure he’ll regret it. You look great.”

Jazz’s grin widened and he tugged a little on the vest he wore over a white V-neck T-shirt. “Thanks.”

Still feeling warm in the face—among other places now—Michael smiled back. “You’re welcome.”

“I used to love Russell’s books. Was totally a fan girl.” Jazz leaned in and spoke softly. “The first dozen were great, now they’re crap, if you don’t mind my saying.”

While Jazz was only whispering closely so the other fans might not hear, Michael relished his nearness. “Yeah, that’s why I only brought the first ten to get signed.”

“Ten?” Jazz’s brows shot up.

He worried his upper lip. “Is that too many?”

Jazz laughed, a free, easy sound. “Oh, Russ will be thrilled. Trust me.”

Granted Russell Withingham might be a bad husband, but Michael loved his books and didn’t want to annoy the man.

Looking for something to discuss besides Jazz’s ex, Michael said, “Your boss Misty does work for me sometimes. She took care of one of my clients for her funeral yesterday.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“She doesn’t like it,” Michael confessed.

“I know,” Jazz agreed. “I heard all about it.”

“You did?” He had no idea Misty disliked styling his clients so much that she might be complaining about it.

“Yeah, creeps her out,” Jazz said. “I don’t know why. You stay in this business long enough, eventually you get a call to give a client their last doo. I don’t know where they’re going in the next life, but I’ll be damned if any of my clients get to the other side with their hair a wreck.”

“You’ve cared for the deceased before?” Michael asked, pleasantly surprised. Most people were freaked out by what he did for a living. Running the largest funeral parlor in the county, and being appointed County Coroner, should have brought him prestige and respectability, and he supposed it did in some circles. But working with dead people left most folks unsettled, rather than endearing anyone to him.

“Sure,” Jazz said with a casual shrug. “I don’t see the big deal.”

Grinning wide, Michael fished in his pocket for the leather business card holder he never left the house without. He flipped it open and withdrew a card. “If you’d like some extra work, I’d love to have you.” He heard how that sounded, and quickly added, “Um, have you do some styling for me. I mean, for my clients.”

Jazz smiled as he took the card. “I know what you meant. And Misty will be thrilled.” Then he dug in his front pocket, the jeans just tight enough in all the right places, that when his hand filled the denim it accentuated his nice package. “Here’s my card. You can get my references from Misty, if you want.”

Michael was still smiling as he took the card and carefully placed it into his card holder. “I’m sure that you’re more than qualified. You said you’ve been in the business a while.”

“Knocking on thirty years.”

Michael scoffed. “Did you start in preschool?”

“Hardly,” Jazz laughed. “A good hair colorist and access to the finest beauty products all culminate for the perfect illusion.” He leaned in. “I’m forty-one.”

“Me too,” Michael said. “But you don’t look a day over thirty-one.”

Jazz put his hand on his chest. “Oh, you flatter me.”

The line inched closer to the door.

“Jazz, is that a nickname?”

“Short for Jasper. I can be a little jazzy, and I love music, so there you go. But I can’t play or read music.”

“Me neither. No artistic talent whatsoever.”

Jazz frowned. “Your work has a bit of art to it.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m rubbish with the hair. That’s why I need Misty for my female clients.”

“Good thing you met me today.”

Now he was grinning like a fool, but he couldn’t help it. “Yes. Good thing.”

Far too soon for Michael’s liking, they reached the door and stepped inside. He had to close and shake off his umbrella, which sadly ended whatever private and possibly flirtatious moment he’d been sharing with the gorgeous Jazz.

Jazz scanned the bar, jaw set.

Helping him out, Michael pointed to the back corner, where a middle-aged man with thinning blond hair, a black velour blazer, and burgundy ascot sat behind a table with mounds of books. “He’s over there.”

“Thanks,” Jazz said, his shoulders relaxing. He gestured to Michael’s umbrella. “Mind if I hold that till I get up there?”

Michael realized Jazz wanted it to hide from his ex until he got closer. And while not wanting to get involved, Michael liked the idea of having a chance to spend more time conversing.

Jazz held the umbrella over one shoulder and turned so it blocked his profile from Russell’s view. Michael stood behind Jazz and watched as drops of rain ran down the side of his neck. He longed to let his tongue follow the rain down beneath the neck of Jazz’s T-shirt. But that wasn’t something he did, and not only because he was a Lacetown business owner. He needed to work on relaxing and letting go of his inhibitions. At least that’s what all his exes had told him. One even went so far as saying Michael’s clients had more warmth than him.

Ouch.

“So you’ve lived here all your life?”

Michael blinked. “What? Oh. Here in Lacetown?”

Jazz grinned. “No, here in the bar.”

A blush heated Michael’s cheeks. “Sorry. I was woolgathering.”

“I like that.”

“What?”

“Woolgathering. It’s not used that often anymore. I like it.”

“Oh. Well. Thank you. And, yes, I was born and raised here.” Michael cleared his throat and looked away, then back. The bag of books suddenly seemed very heavy, and he switched shoulders. Jazz held his gaze, warm brown eyes locked onto Michael’s.

“So what happened between you two?” The words were out before Michael could run them through his mental filter to see if they were appropriate.

Jazz’s forehead furrowed. “Me and Russell?”

Panic zinged through Michael. “I’m sorry. That was a very personal question, and we just met. Forget I asked.”

“No, it’s okay.” Jazz took a step closer and lowered his voice. “Russell likes his side dishes.”

“Side dishes?” Candied yams popped into Michael’s mind.

“You know.” Jazz glanced at the woman in front of them who seemed to be leaning back and listening. He moved fast, putting a hand on her shoulder and easing her forward and away from them as he said, “Careful there. Looked like you were about to tip over. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself before you get to meet Russell Withingham.”

“Oh, no… I wasn’t… I wouldn’t…” The woman’s cheeks flushed and she took a step forward.

“There you go.” Jazz turned back to Michael with a grin. “Where was I?”

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Chapter One

Mr. Pickles will be so excited when I get home, Michael Fleishman thought.

Well, he wasn’t really sure if the taciturn cat would care if he had ten of his Brock Hammer novels signed by the author, but Michael would be excited.

And in Michael’s mind, there weren’t many big names in fiction that he wanted to meet more than Russell Withingham.

“Shit, I thought this rain was supposed to let up this afternoon,” a deep masculine voice from behind Michael said.

Michael turned and drew up short.

“Whoa there, pal, you could take an eye out with that thing.”

For a heartbeat Michael froze and just stared.

And you’re staring at him like a ninny!

Michael hastily stepped back so as to not poke the gorgeous man in the eye with his umbrella. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, watch it,” the lady in front of him snapped. “You’re soaking me!”

Michael jumped when he realized his big umbrella had slipped beneath hers and was funneling water right onto her.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” he said at once, stepping back the other way.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Michael managed, squirming a little. “There’s plenty of room.”

What a strange name. Sounds like something in a mystery novel.

He quickly shook the proffered hand. “Michael Fleishman.”

Jazz flipped a thumb behind him. “I work across the street at Misty’s Makeover Palace.” He furrowed tidy brows. “Fleishman, like the funeral parlor?”

“Eew,” the lady in front of him said with a distinct Valley Girl attitude.

Michael maintained his polite mortician smile. Sadly, he was used to the reaction.

Hence his lackluster love life.

Expecting Jazz to make some equally grossed out remark and leave the safety of the umbrella, Michael looked back at him.

But Jazz was smiling, his white teeth radiant and even. “That explains the planet-sized umbrella. Only ever see those at funerals and on golf courses.”

Michael’s facial muscles softened, and the smile he gave Jazz was more genuine, relaxed. “Yeah, they come in handy.”

Jazz grinned, “I bet they do.”

“Are you a fan of the Brock Hammer novels too?” he asked, glad his glasses were in his pocket. Jazz stood so close Michael didn’t even need them to clearly see his handsome face.

Jazz scoffed. “Used to be.”

“Oh.” Michael’s heart fell. So much for common interests. “Did you know this line is to meet him?”

“I know, all right. The fucker’s been ducking my calls for weeks.”

Michael flinched at the man’s crass remark. “You know Russell Withingham?”

“Married to him,” Jazz said. “Separated.”

So he is gay… Michael shook his head. “Wait, what?”

Michael didn’t know if he was more disappointed to find out his favorite author was a jerk, or excited to know the man under his umbrella was gay and single.

Well, possibly single.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Michael offered.

Michael couldn’t help his involuntary head-to-toe sweep of Jazz’s solid body. Any man who would give up all that hunkiness had to be nuts.

Oh the things Michael would do with him if he could. I’d drip hot candle wax on each of his nipples while I rode….

Jazz’s grin widened and he tugged a little on the vest he wore over a white V-neck T-shirt. “Thanks.”

Still feeling warm in the face—among other places now—Michael smiled back. “You’re welcome.”

“I used to love Russell’s books. Was totally a fan girl.” Jazz leaned in and spoke softly. “The first dozen were great, now they’re crap, if you don’t mind my saying.”

While Jazz was only whispering closely so the other fans might not hear, Michael relished his nearness. “Yeah, that’s why I only brought the first ten to get signed.”

“Ten?” Jazz’s brows shot up.

He worried his upper lip. “Is that too many?”

Jazz laughed, a free, easy sound. “Oh, Russ will be thrilled. Trust me.”

Granted Russell Withingham might be a bad husband, but Michael loved his books and didn’t want to annoy the man.

Looking for something to discuss besides Jazz’s ex, Michael said, “Your boss Misty does work for me sometimes. She took care of one of my clients for her funeral yesterday.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“She doesn’t like it,” Michael confessed.

“I know,” Jazz agreed. “I heard all about it.”

“You did?” He had no idea Misty disliked styling his clients so much that she might be complaining about it.

“Sure,” Jazz said with a casual shrug. “I don’t see the big deal.”

Michael was still smiling as he took the card and carefully placed it into his card holder. “I’m sure that you’re more than qualified. You said you’ve been in the business a while.”

“Knocking on thirty years.”

Michael scoffed. “Did you start in preschool?”

“Hardly,” Jazz laughed. “A good hair colorist and access to the finest beauty products all culminate for the perfect illusion.” He leaned in. “I’m forty-one.”

“Me too,” Michael said. “But you don’t look a day over thirty-one.”

Jazz put his hand on his chest. “Oh, you flatter me.”

The line inched closer to the door.

“Jazz, is that a nickname?”

“Short for Jasper. I can be a little jazzy, and I love music, so there you go. But I can’t play or read music.”

“Me neither. No artistic talent whatsoever.”

Jazz frowned. “Your work has a bit of art to it.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m rubbish with the hair. That’s why I need Misty for my female clients.”

“Good thing you met me today.”

Now he was grinning like a fool, but he couldn’t help it. “Yes. Good thing.”

Jazz scanned the bar, jaw set.

“Thanks,” Jazz said, his shoulders relaxing. He gestured to Michael’s umbrella. “Mind if I hold that till I get up there?”

Michael realized Jazz wanted it to hide from his ex until he got closer. And while not wanting to get involved, Michael liked the idea of having a chance to spend more time conversing.

Ouch.

“So you’ve lived here all your life?”

Michael blinked. “What? Oh. Here in Lacetown?”

Jazz grinned. “No, here in the bar.”

A blush heated Michael’s cheeks. “Sorry. I was woolgathering.”

“I like that.”

“What?”

“Woolgathering. It’s not used that often anymore. I like it.”

“So what happened between you two?” The words were out before Michael could run them through his mental filter to see if they were appropriate.

Jazz’s forehead furrowed. “Me and Russell?”

Panic zinged through Michael. “I’m sorry. That was a very personal question, and we just met. Forget I asked.”

“No, it’s okay.” Jazz took a step closer and lowered his voice. “Russell likes his side dishes.”

“Side dishes?” Candied yams popped into Michael’s mind.

“Oh, no… I wasn’t… I wouldn’t…” The woman’s cheeks flushed and she took a step forward.

“There you go.” Jazz turned back to Michael with a grin. “Where was I?”

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