#darlene cohen

[nycbirdenby]

Happy Carrie the Musical 1988 Stratford opening night!!!!!!!

Even if it was delayed and didn't actually open then it's still very exciting!!!

It's been 36 years of Carrie the Musical and 2 years of the master cut!

This musical means so much to me and I'm so glad that it's so easily available online.

I highly recommend watching the master cut if you haven't already!

[alliluyevas]

Overall, the bluest names with at least 5,000 major-party voters are Imani, Latoya and Tamika for women and Jermaine, Darnell and Malik for men. On the other side of the political divide, we find Brayden, Colton and Tanner for Republican men and Darla, Misty and — ironically for the party of Lincoln —Dixie for women. Incredibly, some names switch parties depending on whether you give them to a boy or a girl. Most women named Laverne are Democrats, while most male Lavernes register Republican. Tyler, Dylan and Toby see similar splits. Jean and Shelly swing in the opposite direction: A female Jean is more than twice as likely to register Republican as a male Jean would be. The politics of a name also depend on the era in which it was chosen. For older Democrats of both genders, Willie is one of the bluest names, as are Roosevelt (for men) and Hyacinth and Queen for women. For younger women, the equivalent names would be Imani and Ayanna. For younger men, they’re Malik and Jermaine.

For young Republican men, the most partisan names are Brock or Colton, while their retirement-age friends see a strong rightward lean when they meet a Galen or a Brent. For Republican women, young Gracie and Bailee give way to older Leann and Jolene. A select few names have also changed their political polarity over time. The most obvious? If you meet a woman named Reagan age 45 or older, when the name was rather rare, she’s probably a Democrat. If you meet a Reagan age 44 or younger — and therefore born after GOP phenomenon Ronald Reagan won the 1980 presidential election — she’s much more likely to register Republican. More often, though, the trend runs in the opposite direction: Older folks register Republican more often than their younger buddies with the very same name, presumably because younger voters lean left. We see old Republicans and young Democrats all named Terrell, Dwayne and Darrell — names that further analysis shows either belong to younger Black men or older White ones. We also see that pattern with women’s names that lost popularity among White people: Janet, Darlene and Karla have grown more Democratic as they’ve grown more Hispanic. Similarly, Joy has moved left as it has been adopted by more Black women, and Kathy followed suit as its popularity grew among their Asian and Hispanic friends. Among women, only Mattie and Gracie shift left among older voters. Further analysis shows both tend to belong either to older Black women or younger White ones. For men, we see the same trend in Old Testament favorites such as Levi and Seth. In perhaps related news, the most common surname for a Seth in his 5os or 60s, when they lean left, is “Cohen.” The top surname for a Seth in his 20s or 30s, when they lean right, is “Johnson.”

this is very interesting. I'm assuming that most female Jeans are old white women and male Jeans are likely Haitian or from French-speaking African countries. Hyacinth is also interesting as it's an extremely uncommon name in general and I don't think associated with any particular ethnic group.

[nirvanaiscool]

Most people, the “temporarily abled,” get to face it a little at a time rather than in one swift irreparable blow. But if you live long enough, you will know this suffering. We all have to give up our bodies someday. The sick among us get in practice.

- Darlene Cohen, The Only Way I Know of to Alleviate Suffering, from Being Bodies (1997)

[bowiewashington]

Drabble: Joint Custody

Title: Joint Custody Rating: PG-13 (for language) Word Count: 1000 Characters: Bennett “Bowie” Washington Cohen Rosewood, Olivia Jackson-Cohen, Avery Jackson (mentioned), Maxwell Rosewood (mentioned). Relationships: Bennett "Bowie" Rosewood & Olivia Jackson-Cohen, Bennett “Bowie” Rosewood/Maxwell Rosewood (mentioned), Bennett “Bowie” Rosewood/Avery Jackson (past, mentioned). Triggers: Casual references to healthy religious practices (Judaism) for those who don't like any talk of religion, vague implications of child endangerment, mentions of mental health issues. Yiddish/Hebrew words: Bubbeleh, little doll/darling, Abba, dad/father. Prequel/Companion Piece: You filed for full custody?

“Which ambient wall light that is definitely not a nightlight do you wanna keep here and which one do you wanna take to your mom’s?” Bowie asked from his spot on the floor where he was surrounded by boxes of Livvie’s stuff. She was on the other side of her room, sitting in a brightly colored chair and staring at the mezuzah she painted at camp and had already stuck on the doorpost. Her room here was smaller than her room in Charlotte had been, but she got to pick everything out. She'd been in awe every time Bowie bought her something. Technically he and Avery had 50/50 custody, but he knew how this song and dance went.

He was supposed to only see her Fridays through Sundays, but it always worked out where somehow he got to see Livvie a lot more than 50% of the time. Avery wouldn’t be able to pick her up from school or she wanted to go out with her friends and couldn’t Livvie just spend the night? He didn’t understand Avery’s parenting style, but he wasn’t going to bring it up. Instead he was focusing on Livvie and making the transition easier for her. That was the important part: making life easy for Livvie. So what if he and Avery didn't always see eye-to-eye? The important thing was that Livvie was happy.

Livvie didn’t say anything. Instead she was kicking her feet back and forth in the chair. She’d been quieter since moving. One of her main concerns was that she got her own room when Max’s kids were sharing a room. She didn’t think it was fair, and he didn’t know how to tell her that it was because she was likely going to be over more than they were. They’d compromised by putting in a trundle so they could sleep in Livvie’s room, too, and there was an extra bed in their room so she could stay with them, too. Still, he knew everything was bothering her. 

He put the nightlights back into the box and crawled over to where she was sitting. “Wanna talk about whatever’s going on in that smart brain of yours?” He asked, leaning against the chair. Wanting to put a smile on his (adopted) daughter’s face, he nudged her side with his head like he was one of their cats. “I’m a good listener.” He mewled out, continuing to nudge her until she started scratching his scalp. “Wanna tell BoBo about your troubles?”

It was quiet for a couple of minutes, but Bowie had a feeling that she was thinking about what she wanted to tell him. “I’m a bad daughter.” She whispered out, sounding far older than eight years old. As much as Bowie wanted to look up at her, he knew she didn’t respond well to direct eye contact when talking about serious things. Her fingers went from scratching his head to playing with the ends of his hair. “I don’t wanna live with Mommy. I just wanna visit her like me and you used to do before the babies died.”

His eyes closed as he processed her words. What the hell was he supposed to say to all that? Fvck. He swallowed. “You’re not a bad daughter.” He said slowly. “You’re the best kid I’ve ever could have asked for. It’s been a really hard year, Bubbeleh. I loved that I got you all summer, but your Mommy really missed you when she was sick. She wants to spend time with you, too.”

Livvie made a sound like she was pushing air through her nose that she definitely picked up from Darlene. She scrambled out of the chair, taking a little bit of Bowie’s hair with her. “Why does everyone keep saying that?” She yelled more than asked, as she started pacing in front of Bowie. “Mommy was sick.” She pulled a face. “Mommy didn’t mean to leave you.” She huffed out another dramatic sigh.

“You’re so nice about Mommy. And Maxxie doesn’t say anything bad ‘cause he loves you. And Mommy always tells me not to listen to anything you say about her, but you don’t say anything bad, Abba!” She ranted. “Mommy says mean things about you ‘cause you didn’t marry her and married Maxxie. She doesn’t mean it but-” And she dropped onto the ground, tears sliding down her cheeks. Whatever she said next was drowned out by her sobs.

Immediately he scrambled over to her, and pulled his daughter into his lap. She called him abba. He didn’t even know she knew what abba meant, let alone ask her to call him that. She must have picked it up from one of her friends at camp. The feeling of being called dad was overwhelming and all encompassing, but he was pushing that to the back of his mind to instead focus on Livvie. “Oh, Bubbeleh.” He crooned out, not knowing what else to say.

“She was sick, but she left me, Abba. She left me like my other daddy did. She left.” She sobbed into his chest. “And- and- and… I picked you!” She pulled back to look at him. “I didn’t like kin’da’garden and then… you were there like Lilo & Stitch. And I got to pick you to be my BoBo. And you loved Mommy and you took care of me even when Mommy didn’t love you, and you kept loving me when the babies went away and- and- and-” She buried her face back into his chest. “You stayed. Everyone leaves, but you stay, Abba. You stay.” 

His face felt wet. He didn’t even know when he started crying. “I’ll always stay. It’s you and me forever, Livvie-girl. You and me.” He murmured out, rocking her from side to side. “You and me.”

Livvie hiccuped, and turned her head to the side to mumble: “And she smells funny all the time. Like stinky flowers.”

And, fvck. He knew that Avery was still smoking pot but she promised it wouldn’t affect her time with Livvie. Fvck. “I’ll do what I can to see if you can spend more time here.” He promised into her hair. “It doesn’t mean you will, but I’m gonna try, okay? I’m gonna try for you.”

[nityarawal]

February 7, 2024

"Networking At Bars," - Melody Gray New Year Text To Ranch

#50ShadesOfGold #Merci #BarayeNotBeret 

Morning Songs

Charly Had 9 Babies

Yesterday

What's More Creative

Than That

A Dog Has Her Baes

But What About Mom

She Was Raped

By Intelligence

Mr. Alexander's Dog

Again

I Gave Him Back

The Airforce

Knife

From Berets

He Said It Still

Had It's Blood

On It

Someone Special

Carved Him Up

Left Him With

A Token

His Roomate

Must've Tossed

In Front Of My House

Mr. Alexander

Got Bonked

On The Head

A Shovel Did Him

Under

When His Dog

Attacked Cyrus

Already Stitched

Up

Nearly Gave Us

A Heart Attack

When His Bandage

Dropped

At The Waist

But Cyrus 

Suceeded

So Did The Neighbor's

Mutt

For Bright Eyed

Charly

Has A Mixed Lot

Sometimes Owners

Are Angry

Hope He Doesn't

Neglect The Pups

We Know What

It's Like To Nurse

And Birth

So We Bring

Her Water And Tuna

Fish

But Why You Rape

Our Dogs

Why You Rape Our

Banks

Why You Think

Man's Like Doje

And Has No Needs

For Finer Physicists

Wives

You Think A Physicist

Can Be Appeased 

With A Curly Q

And A Harem 

Of Jewish Men

What Did You

Do

We Love Elon

We Love Eloning

We Have His Back

But No Chowmilla

May Not Have

A Robot

Of Him

Or Any Of My

Knights

She Shall Wait

18 Months

While Nonce

Charles

Builds

A Junk Art

Border

With All His

Marshall Law

Men

From Iowa

Get The Marines

All the Chris's

Mark Hitmen

We Don't Want 

Them

We Won't Date

'Em

Get Vivek's Kids

Infected With

Covid

Vitamins And

The Correct

Remedies

Give Nonce Charles

Some Vitamins

For His Junk

$500 Trillion

Charged

For Every Secret 

Service Incident

Need My Kids

Back

Now

Cybertrucks

For Moms

For What US

Government 

Has Done 

We're Lucky For A King

Who Won't Touch

Shivon

Zillis

We're Lucky For A King

Who Called Off

Israeli War

Neuralink

AI

Invasion

We're Lucky For

A King

Rewind The Old

Restart

Rainchecks

He Needs A 

Queen

For We Can't Trust

Any Man

Exposed

To Prostitution 

Rings

Want To Keep

Eloning

Want A Better

Life

Than Recall

These Jewish

Attys

Giving Us So Much

Strife

You May Not Have 

A Nanny

To Triangulate 

Nonce Charles

If You Really

Want A Transvestite 

Then Take One

Of Yours

But You May Not

Have A Nanny

If You Killed Your

Starter Wife

Second Gentleman

Doug Emhoff

Jarrod Cohen

Bush Administration

#Trumpleberry #Political

Headhunting

You Failed My 

Family

For A Dime

Bean Counters

Recall Your Cons

You 'Ain't Got A

Robot

To Sell

I'm Tellin'

You

Recall Your Optimus

Rewind AI

Bank Fraud Failed

My Mommies

Over Holidays

Even Though

Melody Gray Took

A Bribe

Her Anjali

Still Raped

So Is Mine

Her Nurse Mamma

Darlene

Confessed

To All 3 Daughters

In Text

She Says She Smears

Idyllwild Health

Patients

With Dr. Natalya

From Ukraine

Won't Give Them

Lymes

Or Covid

Medications

And Terrorises

Rockstars On Pedophile

Rape

Smears

Targeting Mothers

Everywhere

Melody Took A Bribe

From Her Big Pharma

Sugar Daddy

Not A Cybertruck 

With Honors

But A Black Mercedes

Like  Gothic

Coroner

Melody Took A Bribe

She Lost Her Song

She Left Me A Painting

Of Buddha

She Could've Done

So Much More

For Her Mother

Her Lineage

And Sisters

Me

Moms'

If Addiction

Didn't Sell 

Her Out

On Plea

Bargains

Peace,

Nitya Nella Davigo Azam Moezzi Huntley Rawal 

[true-person-of-no-rank]

[krispyweiss]

Murderer Phil Spector Dead at 81

- Killer also produced a lot of records

Phil Spector - the murderer who as music producer created the vaunted “Wall of Sound” and whom Steven Van Zandt called “a genius irredeemably conflicted” - has died at 81.

Spector died at a hospital Jan. 16 of “natural causes,” the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation said.

The one-time record producer had been serving a 19-year prison sentence for the 2003 murder of Lana Clarkson.

Former Black Crowes drummer Steve Gorman summed up Spector’s legacy as well as anyone could, tweeting:

“Phil Spector, like OJ Simpson, is a murderer who did other stuff before he started murdering.”

That other stuff is producing acts and albums including Darlene Love, the Crystals, the Ronettes, Let it Be, All Things Must Pass, Plastic Ono Band, Imagine, Dion, Ike & Tina Turner, Leonard Cohen, Ramones and countless others. All this music, like so many guns, has Spector’s fingerprints all over it.

“Travel on well, Phil Spector,” the Waterboys’ Mike Scott tweeted. “Thank you for your genius record production. I guess your maker will need a little word with you about the other stuff. Good luck.”

Writing on Facebook, Love tried to untangle her complicated feelings about her former collaborator.

“I feel a sigh of relief but emptiness, too,” she said. “Another chapter in my life has come to an end. A truly sad ending to a brilliant music pioneer.”

1/17/21

[greensparty]

Phil Spector 1939-2021

Groundbreaking music producer Phil Spector has died at 81. This remembrance is a little difficult to write, because the fact is, he was a convicted murderer who was in prison and by several accounts he was volatile and intimidating. However, something I stress frequently is that you need to separate the artist from the artist’s work. As ex-wife Ronnie Spector of The Ronettes said “He was a brilliant producer, but a lousy husband”. 

He produced countless classics in the early 60s, especially for the Girl Groups of that era. He became known for his own sound as a producer. His Wall of Sound was revolutionary! The list of songs he produced is like a perfect mix tape: “Then He Kissed Me” by The Crystals, “Be My Baby” by The Ronettes, “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)” by Darlene Love, and “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’” and “Unchained Melody” by The Righteous Brothers. 

Lennon and Spector

As a lifelong Beatle fanatic, credit has to be given to him for his work with the Fab Four. John Lennon had him produce “Instant Karma” in 1969, which lead to Spector producing The Beatles’ final album Let It Be (read my piece about it from last year). Paul McCartney was not a fan of Spector’s production and in 2003, Let It Be...Naked was released, which took away Spector’s sound. Still a great album, but not as good IMHO. 

Spector and Harrison

Lennon worked with Spector again on his albums John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band, Imagine, Some Time in New York City, and Rock ‘n’ Roll. All solid releases, especially Plastic Ono and Imagine. Spector later worked with Yoko Ono on her Season of Glass album too. George Harrison worked with Spector on All Things Must Pass, The Concert for Bangladesh live album, and Living in the Material World. All Things Must Pass is the greatest album by a solo Beatle IMHO. 

In the years that followed, Spector worked with Leonard Cohen as well as The Ramones, who talked about recording End of the Century (considered by many to be their best album) with Spector in the documentary End of the Century: The Story of The Ramones. 

The link above is the obit from Rolling Stone.

[heartodaygrowntomorrow]

1,507.) Sun Jan. 17, 2021

#RIPPhilSpector (1939-2021) The Song of the Day is: The Crystals - “He Hit Me (and It Felt Like a Kiss)”(1962) #SongoftheDay #music #parenting #crystals #PhilSpector #oldies #WallOfSound #journal #HearTodayGrownTomorrow Support the Blog - Click Below

RIP Phil Spector (1939-2021) The Song of the Day is: The Crystals – “He Hit Me (And It Felt Like A Kiss)” Released as a single in 1962, available on many compilations Yes, he hit me And it felt like a kiss. He hit me And I knew I loved him. And then he took me in his arms With all the tenderness there is, And when he kissed me, He made me his. Carole King – Gerry Goffin Let’s get one…

[bongianimuseum]

“Marginal Artistamps History”

72 ARTISTI PRESENTI  A QUESTA  RASSEGNA INTERNAZIONALE DI  ARTISTAMPS

Giacomo Balla, Italia I  Karl Schwesig I Germania I Michael V. Hitrovo, Russia I Ives Klein, Francia I Ray Johnson, USA I  George Maciunas, USA  I Lamberto Pignotti, Italia I Guglielmo Achille Cavellini, Italia I  E. F. Higgins III, Usa I  Clemente Padin, Uruguay I Enzo Benedetto e Giulio Lotti, Italia I Guy Bleus, Belgio I  Edwin Varney, Canada  I Mirella  Bentivoglio, Italia I Paolo Scirpa, Italia I Shozo Shimamoto, Giappone I Ruggero Maggi, Italia I Jas W Felter,  Canada I  Ben Vautier, Francia I John Held JR, Usa I  Anna Banana, Usa I  Piermario Ciani, Italia I  Ryosuke  Cohen, Giappone I Irma  Blank, Italia I RCBz, - Usa I BuZ Blurr, Usa I Carl T. Chew, Usa I Darlene  Altschul, Usa I Chuck Welch, Usa I Marcello Diotallevi, Italia I Matthew Rose, Francia I  Vittore  Baroni, Italia I Ruud Janssen, Olanda I  Pascal Lenoir, Francia I Otto D  Sherman, Usa I C. Mehrl Bennett, Usa I Anna Boschi, Italia I Dmitry Babenko, Russia I Crackerjack Kid, Usa I Greta Schodl, Austria I Alexander Kholopov, Russia I Marina Salmaso, Danimarca I Bobo Bianchi, Italia I Giovanni Bonanno, Italia I Michel Della Vedova, Francia I Mauro Molinari, Italia I  Natalie Lamanova, Russia I Willie  Marlowe, Usa I  Daniel Daligand, Francia I Domenico Ferrara Foria  Italia I On Boy Mailart, Usa I Ko De Jonge, Olanda I Giancarlo Pucci, Italia I Gyorgy Galantai, Ungheria I Picasso  Gaglione, Usa I  Jurgen O. Olbrich, Germania I John  M. Bennett, Usa I Valery Shimanovsky, Russia I Michael Leigh, Gran Bretagna I PtrziaTictac, Germania I D.C. Spaulding, Usa I Remy Penard, Francia I Ferrari Ezio, Belgio I Fernanda Fedi, Italia I Gianni Romeo, Italia I Gino  Gini, Italia I Emilio Morandi Italia I Claudio Grandinetti, Italia I Serse Luigetti, Italia I Antonio Sassu, Italia I Alfonso Caccavale, Italia I Pablo Dorico Sempere, Danimarca.

[tsultrimpawo]

Respecting Pain How do we develop this appreciation of things just as they are, especially if we are sick and in pain? We must treat our pain gently, respectfully, not resisting it but living with it. —Darlene Cohen, “The Practice of Nonpreference” (at New Haven Zen Center) https://www.instagram.com/p/CT4m2V8Lx4Z/?utm_medium=tumblr

[panatmansam]

More on Pain

Physical pain and illness are part of samsara. It is expected and not to be feared. Meditation techniques can be very useful in easing physical pain as well. The Buddha himself in his old age suffered from terrible back pain and near blindness.

The monk and teacher Bhikkhu Bodhi, who sufferers chronic nerve pain in his head and neck commented that when he stops worrying about or struggling mentally with the pain, it becomes more tolerable.

He uses contemplation to observe the pain dispassionately, without attaching to it. He also said, “The most powerful tool I’ve found for mitigating pain’s impact is a short meditative formula repeated many times in the Buddha’s discourses:

‘Whatever feelings there may be-past, present, or future- all feeling is not mine, not I, not myself.’”

The Zen teacher Darlene Cohen who lives with severe and crippling rheumatoid arthritis has a free talk on Audio Dharma “Moving Through Suffering”  I recommend it,

[bowiewashington]

Drabble: Scenes from a Weekend

Title: Scenes from a Weekend Rating: Mature-ish? Word Count: 2400-ish

Characters: Bennett "Bowie" Washington, Olivia Erwin Washington, Benjamin "Benny" Monroe, Ruth “Bubbe” Goldstein Washington, Ezra Cohen, Kenny the Bodyguard, Daniel Radcliffe (yeah, you read that right), Darlene Cohen,  (mentioned), Avery Erwin (mentioned)

Relationships: Bennett "Bowie" Washington/Benjamin "Benny" Monroe (implied), Bennett "Bowie" Washington & Ruth “Bubbe” Goldstein Washington, Bennett "Bowie" Washington & Olivia Erwin Washington, Bennett "Bowie" Washington/Avery Erwin (past)

Triggers: Religion (Judaism), use of a kind of derogatory word for non-Jews, use of Yiddish/Ashkenazi words by reform Jews, references to sex, domestic violence, spousal abuse, emotional abuse, non-consensual free use, victim guilt, child loss, infant loss, over medicating, references to canon underage sex, age difference, #metoo vibes, child marriage/grooming, and a vague reference to a canon suicide attempt.

Notes: So even before the show aired, I told myself that whatever Jonathan Groff won, that’s what Benny would win. Somehow this turned into Merrily We Roll Along being the show Benny was in on Broadway. I have no regrets. Feel free to imagine Benny as Jonathan Groff for now. I have more I want to add, but that’s going to be a next-week project.

Yiddish/Hebrew words: Shabbos - Sabbath, the Jewish day of rest (Friday sundown to Saturday Sundown), also the formal Friday night dinner. Bubbe - grandmother, fondly. Bubeleh - a term of endearment for a grandchild. Goy - a non-Jewish person, can be offensive.

FRIDAY

Friday nights in Brooklyn at Bubbe’s house were always chaotic, and every time Bowie forgot just how popular his grandmother was. She’d owned her apartment in Brooklyn, just outside the Jewish Quarter, for longer than Bowie had been alive. Everyone in the building knew who she was, and he swore everyone stopped by her apartment before going up to the roof for Shabbos. It was making Kenny, the bodyguard that Benny hired for Bowie earlier this year, extremely nervous. Of course, not a single person was paying him any mind.

“A Jewish actor nominated for a Tony dining in Brooklyn?” Bubbe’s neighbor, Gilda, rolled her eyes before shoving a casserole dish into Kenny’s arms. “Throw a rock. You’ll hit another one. Take that to the roof, handsome.”

Kenny shot Bowie a helpless look, and all Bowie could do was laugh, before waving him off. As much as Charlotte was home, so was anywhere Bubbe was living. It definitely felt like home tonight, and for the first time in weeks, Bowie actually felt alive and not like the walking corpse he’d been since the twins were stillborn. 

“Bubeleh.” And that was the only warning Bowie got before Bubbe grabbed him by the elbow and guided him over to an older woman and a guy his age who he assumed was her son or grandson. Aw, shit. “There’s someone I want you to meet. This is Peggy, and her grandson, Yoel. This is my Bennett.” She introduced, and fuck. This was definitely a set up. “He’s an actor with his own little show and everything.” Please don’t let her pinch his cheek. “He just got out of a long term relationship, but she was a goy. So she doesn’t count.”

And fucking ouch. “Bubbe, let’s not call Livvie’s mom that. People really don’t use that word any more.” He shot Yoel a small smile. He seemed nice enough, but he also was about Bowie’s age, which meant he could probably chase him off without Benny getting involved. Actually someone must have been distracting Benny because he hadn’t seen him in awhile. “Livvie is my seven year-old.”

Those were the magic words. Almost immediately Yoel and his grandma were moving along to talk to someone else. “Well, I didn’t like him for you anyway.” Bubbe dismissed. “Have you seen your brother? There’s a girl who’s in her last year at Columbia that I want him to meet.” 

Happy to pass off her scheming to someone else, he pointed in the last direction he’d seen Ezra in. Almost as soon as she was gone, arms wrapped around his waist. He tensed, until the familiar scent of Benny’s cologne calmed him. With a sigh he relaxed into his ex-husband (partner again?). “What did you say to her during Passover?” He asked. “She’s bolder than normal tonight.”

Benny buried his face against his neck for a moment, just breathing Bowie in. “You’re telling me. She roped little Washington into making me braid her hair over and over. It took me far too long to realize she was purposely distracting me.” He admitted, sounding sheepish.

Well, that answered a couple of questions. “If they really wanted to, I think they could take over the world.” Before Benny could reply, Bowie was dragged off by Olivia to rescue Ezra.

SATURDAY

“Uncle Ez.” Today it was just Bowie, Ezra and Olivia. Well, and Kenny, but he was sitting in the corner while they got manicures and pedicures at the little hole in the wall place Darlene swore by when she lived in Brooklyn. And… okay, Ezra wasn’t getting a manicure. Even though his cuticles were disgusting. “Can I pick the color for your toes?”

A smile worked its way onto Bowie’s face. Much like the night before Bowie was feeling a bit more like himself. He was still in mourning, but he felt like he could breathe. Or maybe it was because he stopped taking the medications his therapist prescribed after the twin’s passing. His head felt clear. 

“Is it going to be pink?” Ezra asked skeptically. 

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Nooooo.” She drew out the ‘oh’ sound for as long as she could. “BoBo’s letting me pick his colors. No pink for him either.” She giggled as her feet were lifted out of the basin by the nail tech. 

“Want to look at colors?” They asked her.

Immediately Olivia looked at him for permission, and wasn’t that something. It made him feel like a dad, which he theoretically knew he was, but it still felt novel every time she did something to remind him. “Go on. I’ll try to talk your uncle into getting his fingers done, too.”

As soon as Olivia was out of earshot, Ezra turned to glare at him. “I thought the whole Ben thing was because of the studio.” He hissed out. “Yeah, I know he’s your longest relationship so there’s that safety and comfort thing, but I didn’t actually think you were back together for real until last night.”

Bowie closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the spa chair. “C’mon, Ez. I thought you were gonna lay off until filming was done.” He whined out. “It’s complicated.”

Ezra glanced around to make sure that Olivia was still out of earshot. “His hand was down your fucking pants. That doesn’t look complicated to me. It looks like you’re screwing your ex again.” And yeah… Ezra was a kid when Bowie and Benny were married, but he saw just how much Benny put him through the first time around. 

“We didn’t do anything. I wasn't gonna let him do anything in Bubbe’s bathroom.” He whispered back.

His brother’s eyes narrowed. “And when you’re staying in midtown tomorrow night?” He countered back. “You’re going to let him bend you over the closest surface and fu- FEED you all sorts of different delicious new foods.”

Wait. What? Bowie frowned, but then he saw Olivia bounding over, cradling nail polish bottles in her hands. “I got all sorts of options!”

SUNDAY

Bowie had never actually been to the Tony Awards before. Sure, he’d been to award shows, but he almost felt like he was sitting in tech rehearsals or something. There was a certain vibe in the air. Bowie wasn’t sure if he was excited or if he was going to throw up.

“You okay?” Benny asked him as he gave Bowie’s hand a squeeze as they went down the paparazzi line. And fuck. His brother was right. Sure, he’d announced to the world that he and Benny were back together, but he never actually felt like they were together. Until now. Benny pressed a kiss to Bowie’s knuckles. He’d been obsessed with how soft Bowie's hands were after the manicure. He had no idea what the other man was going to do when he felt his feet.

It was right there, with cameras flashing, that Bowie realized his mistake. He knew Benny was a good shield from people asking probing questions about the loss of his twins, but he didn’t have an exit plan. Now that he wasn’t taking the meds the therapist had prescribed, he realized he’d taken his abuser back. What was that scary statistic Bubbe sent him when someone told her what he’d done? People who went back to their abusers didn’t get out of the relationship alive?

Fuck. He was going to have to actually stay with Benny through filming, and the media shit, too. If he tried to end things with him sooner than that, it was going to cause issues with Death After Life. But if he stayed with him too long… would a repeat of the sex tape happen? How long until Benny started whoring him out again? How long until he tried to convince him to get rid of Olivia? Fuck. He knew he wouldn’t actually hurt Olivia; as long as he could use her to control Bowie. 

“I’m fine, baby.” Bowie cooed out when he realized there were cameras on them. He leaned up and pressed a kiss to the corner of Benny’s mouth. “Just a little overwhelmed.” 

Benny smiled at him before kissing him properly. “Why don’t you go inside? Go grab some water, and take your anxiety meds. I have to do a couple more interviews.” He suggested.

He forced a smile, and gave him another kiss before disappearing into the Lincoln Center. Instead of taking his meds, he slipped up to the bar and grabbed a whiskey sour. He was three drinks deep, and chatting with some producer Bowie was pretty sure he’d slept with when he was still underage when Benny reappeared. 

“You’re not supposed to be drinking on your meds.” He reminded him, stealing his drink.

Bowie rolled his eyes, but nuzzled into him anyway. “I stopped taking them a couple days ago so I could drink tonight.” Sure, he’d been off his meds for a couple of days, but it had been a total accident.

A kiss was pressed to the side of his neck. “That’s my smart boy.”

-

Seven nominations. Somehow Bowie didn’t realize that Benny’s show had seven nominations. For so long he’d purposely avoided everything Benny related. Now that he was back in his orbit he supposed he should have been paying attention. Seven nominations meant two things: 1) their section was pure chaotic energy and 2) Benny was out of his seat more than he was in it. He couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not.

As soon as the first award was won by Benny’s co-star, Bowie knew it was going to be a wild night. Even if Benny didn’t win his award, Dan did, which meant they were definitely going to the afterparties. He could feel Benny grip his thigh as Dan thanked him and started crying. Instinctively, Bowie leaned into Benny’s side as his ex-husband sniffled. There was definitely a camera on them, and he knew what it looked like. Darlene was gonna say something when he got back to Charlotte.

Most of the night from there was a blur. Benny had to go backstage for a costume change and to perform. He knew there would likely be a camera on him for his reaction just in case something happened. And sure enough, right there on live television, Benny accidentally sang the not for live TV lyrics to the song they were performing. Bowie felt his hands covering his face, and he knew the slightly time delayed air version would be showing his reaction as the entire line was muted out. And then… he was clapping and cheering as the number finished.

It took awhile before Benny was back in his seat. He pressed a kiss to the side of his head as he slid back into his seat, still slightly sweaty from running around on stage. “You said the wrong liiiine.” He whisper-sang, nudging him. Oh yeah, those drinks had hit him hard.

Benny was laughing into his shoulder, but they didn’t have too much time together before Merrily We Roll Along won Best Revival of a Musical. There was a roar of noise around them, and Benny was kissing him before running up on stage with the rest of the cast. Bowie could feel the fond smile on his face. Fuck. He really was too deep in it now, wasn’t he?

He didn’t have too much time to think about that before Benny was back, and they were reading the nominees for Best Performance by an Actor in a Leading Role in a Musical. The cameras were definitely on them now. As they said his name and showed a clip from Merrily, Benny was holding onto Bowie’s hand, his lips pressed against his knuckles again. And then… then it was pandemonium. Benny won. Benny fucking won. Somehow he was standing and Benny’s arms were around him, and there was a firm kiss pressed to Bowie’s lips and then Benny was off to the stage.

Disconnected from reality. That was the only way Bowie could think to describe how he was feeling, and he wasn’t even the one who won. He watched as Benny stopped to hug Dan on his way to the stage. People were grabbing Bowie’s hands nearby and congratulating him on Benny’s win as the announcer stated that this was Benny’s third nomination but first win. It was bizarre, but then he was being pushed back to sitting, and Benny was at the podium.

“Wow. Uh, okay. Paper, paper.” He was crying as he patted down his pockets for his speech. “Victory!” He straightened out his speech. “Live theater has always been my first love. My second love is sitting over there.” There was laughter and Bowie knew there was a camera on him again. Bowie couldn’t tear his eyes away from Benny. Fuck. He didn’t think he was actually going to win, and now… now whatever Benny said on live television was going to be true. Just like how Bowie blurting out that they were back together when they weren’t had instantly become the truth.

“There are so many people I need to thank, but I’m in disbelief. I remember being eighteen, and telling my brand new costar that I was going to be an EGOT winner one day. Now I just need a Grammy. It blows my mind. And that’s not on my paper.” He shook his head to get back on track. “But I told that same costar I was going to marry him one day, and look at us now.” There was more laughter and then Benny was reading out his list of people to thank. Bowie zoned out for a minute until Benny got to the end. “And last, but definitely never least, Bee. Happy Father’s Day, baby. I know it looks differently than you imagined, but I’m so proud of you for getting out of the house and coming with me tonight. I love you, Bowie Monroe. Everything I do is for you. You make me want to be a better man, a better person. This award is for you.” He blew an air kiss towards Bowie and then he was being escorted off the stage for interviews.

Tears were streaming down Bowie’s face. He fucked up. What had he been thinking? Benny wasn’t going to let him leave again. Bowie had barely got out alive the first time around. Something told him it wasn’t going to be as easy this time.

[techfeels]

Up there with our favorite drugs and distractions from facing the terror of loneliness and existential emptiness is our current national pastime, “busyness.” People brag to each other about how busy they are, with the clear implication that they are valued and indispensable to the unending projects that fill their waking hours. … The substance abuser’s overall feeling is unpleasant enough — frantic, uneasy — but he does manage to avoid the real lows: the grief, the anger, the disillusionment.

— The One Who Is Not Busy by Darlene Cohen

[true-person-of-no-rank]