#i went back and looked at the adidas party at the open and lo and behold

[thirdpartied]

shoutout to my roommate who pointed out that tashi has two younger brothers

[maliby]

Hard | ty (m)

↬ Pairing: sub idol!Taeyong x fem dom idol!Reader | idol!Jaehyun x idol!Reader (if you squint) ↬ Story Genre: smut, pwp, tiny bit of angst, idol!au ↬ Warnings: explicit language, explicit sex scene, improv kinky shit (when the urges call and you ain’t home, you gotta work with what you got lmao) ↬ Word count: 4K ↬ Summary: Jealousy led you to spy on your boyfriend Taeyong at Music Bank. Jealousy also led you to fuck the shit out of him in NCT’s dressing room so everyone could hear who he belonged to.

“So, Jaehyun-ah, who’s your ideal type?” 

NCT 127 was in the midst of their ‘Kick it’ comeback, which meant endless promotions. The show currently airing on the TV in your dorm’s living room was a new one called ‘Glossy Gossip’. You didn’t particularly like this show or the nosy host, but it was really popular amongst fangirls and thus NCT 127 was on it. This time though, only Jaehyun and your boyfriend Taeyong had been invited.

“Mmmh, I’d say Y/N from Pixies.” 

Jaehyun’s crush on you was no news for you, in fact, even everyone in NCT 127 knew of it. The surprising thing was that he was admitting it on national television right in front of your boyfriend. You would be lying though if you said you didn’t enjoy watching Taeyong trying to hide his jealousy by clenching his jaw.

Before you met your boyfriend, you had made out with Jaehyun at Seulgi’s birthday party. For you, it was just a fling, which was why you convinced Jaehyun not to tell Taeyong. Ruining their team dynamic because of an old fling just wasn’t worth it. 

The whole situation changed when Jaehyun decided to out the both of you on a game of truth or dare. He asked you between him and Taeyong who was the better kisser and after assuring your boyfriend that it was a meaningless fling from before the two of you had met, you answered Taeyong. 

“I love it! Keeping it in the SM family! She is very beautiful, you two would make a dashing couple!” The MC said, making you immediately cringe at her words.

“What about you Taeyong-ah, who’s your ideal type?” 

You thought he was going to say your name, after all, you would definitely say his, but your world dropped as soon as another woman’s name fell off of his lips.

“Lisa,” he said nonchalantly, as he plunged a metaphorical dagger into your heart.

“Ohhh, last time she was here she said you were exactly her type! Can I be invited to your wedding?”

You picked up the remote and immediately turned off the TV, not being willing to hear his response.

How could he say that without an inch of hesitation? How could he say fucking Lisa’s name and not yours? Was he that petty because Jaehyun had said your name? Or were you just that insignificant to him?

That day you ignored all of Taeyong’s messages and calls. You even skipped practice and stayed home so you wouldn’t run the risk of bumping into him at SM. You thought that that would be enough to make him understand that you didn’t want to talk to him but as soon as you heard him knocking at your door you realized how stupid you were to underestimate his persistence.

“Y/N let me in, I know you’re in there.”

“You must be mistaken, Blackpink’s dorm is 100 meters from here,” you yelled back at him in a petty tone.

He stopped knocking, a sigh being the only thing you could hear through the door. “Y/N I’m sorry, I was being petty about the whole Jaehyun situation and him saying your name…”

You opened the door and saw him standing there with these sad puppy eyes that tugged at your heartstrings, but you were still fucking hurt.

“You really fucking hurt me, Yong.”

“Fuck, I know,” he ran in to hug you but you were aching so much that you couldn’t even hug him back. “I regretted it the moment I said it, that’s why I said that thing after.”

“What thing?” You broke off the hug, curiosity getting the best of you.

“You didn’t watch it?”

“I turned off the TV. As you can imagine, I wasn’t exactly eager to watch you talk about your future wedding with Lisa.”

He got closer to you and placed his hand on your cheek wanting to comfort you, “I said: ‘I’m sorry, I meant pizza’.”

There was a brief moment of silence before you broke out laughing.

“You really told her your ideal type was pizza?” It hurt that he said her name, but the fact that he regretted it right away and tried to mend it made you feel a lot better.

“Yes, you should have seen her face.” 

The smile on his face was one of relief, a smile so sweet you couldn’t help to stare for, after all, you loved him with all your heart.

Taeyong gave you a soft kiss after a while of just staring, sighing against your lips. “I really am sorry baby, I wish I hadn’t caused you pain like that.”

“It’s fine now,” you leaned into the hand that was caressing your cheek so you could feel his warm touch.

“Will you forgive me?”

“I will.”

You promised Taeyong you would forgive him, but when it came to forgetting it was a whole different story. Especially when you learned that Blackpink was having a comeback and, therefore, going to the same music show programs as NCT 127.

You trusted Taeyong, you did, but the truth of the matter was that Lisa had confessed your boyfriend to be her ideal type, and now with his little slip up on national television you were sure she could get the wrong fucking idea and mess with what was yours. Taking all that into consideration, you decided that you needed to go to Music Bank to spy on them.

You knew your members would never cooperate with your dumb idea, especially your strict leader, so, taking advantage of the fact that your period was due tomorrow you made up some excuse about cramps so you could ‘stay home and rest. It was all a bunch of crap, of course, but something inside of you was telling you that you needed to be there, so you pulled up a favour with your manager and voilà, you were in.

You pulled up your face mask, tugged down your Adidas hat (to try and cover up your identity as much as possible), and went on exploring. 

In reality, there weren’t that many places Taeyong could be in but, knowing your boyfriend’s appetite, you’re almost sure he’d be at the cafeteria. So, with that in mind, you turned right and followed the line of hungry idols to the cafeteria. 

So far, none of the idols you walked by had recognized you, but in all fairness, none of them were your friends. The true test came when you saw Yuta speaking with Yuto from Pentagon near the entrance of the cafeteria. Yuta saw you practically every day, thus it would be highly likely that he would recognize you. So, you turned your head in the opposite direction, sped up your pace, and prayed to the Lord he wouldn’t recognize you. 

What you didn’t expect was, after successfully passing by the two Japanese friends without being recognized and preparing to open the cafeteria doors, going face-first to an exiting Johnny and falling backwards, dropping your hat on the floor in the process.

“Oh, I’m so sor-” he reached for your hand but stopped in surprise as he recognized you, leaving you to stand up on your own. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“Y/N?” You heard Yuta also ask behind you.

“Fuck.” You whispered to yourself as you tried to think of an excuse that wouldn’t make you look like a crazy person. “I- Oh! I’m here because Taeyong asked me to bring him something that he forgot,” you smiled, feeling proud of your lie.

“Oh, ok,” he answered, “not like him to forget things though.” 

“Yeah, he must be stressed with this whole comeback thing, you know how he is. Is he in the cafeteria?”

“Yeah, he’s grabbing a snack with-”

“No!” You heard Yuta interrupt him, immediately ditching his friend and coming into your conversation with Johnny. “He left 5 minutes ago, don’t you remember Johnny?”

“Oh, yes, right. I’m so worried about the stage performance that I totally forgot.”

Johnny was a terrible liar, one of the reasons why you loved playing poker with him, and one of the reasons why your heart was beating so fast right now. You knew he was lying. You knew they were lying, and if they were lying, that meant that Taeyong was definitely in the cafeteria and probably doing something that you wouldn’t like.

“Let me through,” you passed through Johnny and Yuta and walked right in the cafeteria, immediately spotting Taeyong and Lisa giggling while they filled their stomachs with sandwiches. You should feel better at the fact that they were in the company of Jennie, Mark and Jaehyun and not alone but in reality, you didn’t.

Taeyong had his back to you so he could never have predicted the way in which you were about to storm into their conversation. You marched towards their table, pulled out the empty chair right next to your boyfriend and stared right at Lisa.

“Is this seat taken? Thanks” you sat even before she could answer.

“Oh Y/N!” she interjected as you took off your mask, “I didn’t know you were promoting,” she innocently smiled at you, not having a clue of the shit storm that was about to happen.

In truth, not even the idols knew of your relationship with Taeyong, only your group, NCT and a few SM people but that’s it. So, you couldn’t really blame Lisa for taking advantage of one of the hottest fucking guys on this planet saying on television that he’d be down to fuck her. Of course not, that would be irrational of you, but see, irrational was all you could manage to be right now.

“Can I join in?” You asked Taeyong, his eyes in shock as he looked at you, “it sounds like you were having a very lovely conversation.”

“Baby, it’s nothing I swear,” he immediately said.

“Oh, it’s not?”

“Ok, we need to get back to the dressing room. Let’s go, Jennie,” Lisa got up and left with her bandmate, fully understanding what was happening.

“Fuck, Taeyong, why are you doing this to me?” Tears were pricking at your eyes and you had the full notion that everybody was staring at you right now but you didn’t fucking care.

“Y/N, I wasn’t doing anything we were just talking about our comebacks I swear. Mark and Jaehyun were here the whole time they can tell you,” he desperately looked at his friends.

“Y/N it’s true, everywhere else was full so I asked them if they wanted to sit with us, it’s my fault,” Mark said. You had always loved Mark, you treated him like a baby brother, and you trusted him completely but, even he couldn’t make you feel better about this whole thing.

“Baby, I love you, I only want to be with you, trust me when I tell you this,” Taeyong grabbed your hand to calm you down, but you were so sick of this Lisa situation that you could only think of one thing. You grabbed Taeyong’s hand, pulled him up, and dragged him to his dressing room.

He tried to talk to you on your way there, to calm you down, but you completely ignored him. Talking wasn’t what you needed right now. You needed to make him yours and make you scream your name and no one else’s. 

When you reached the dressing room you noticed the unnie that did their makeup sanitizing all the products to use on the members. Luckily, she also did your makeup from time to time and was your friend, so you didn’t feel awkward when you asked her if you could talk to Taeyong alone. She kindly conceded to your request and you followed her to the door, making sure to lock it after she left.

“Y/N?” He slowly got near you, testing the waters. When he moved to touch your cheek you blocked it. You placed your hands on his shoulders and pushed until he sat on the nearest makeup chair.

“First, you say another woman’s name on national television, and then, you decide to make friends with her, behind my back. Do you want to fuck her? I know her dressing room is right next to this one, manager unnie told me. I can go in there and fetch her for you to fuck her, how’s that?”

“No! I only want you, you’re the only one for me, I swear!”

“Then don’t you fucking forget that,” you grabbed him by his sharp jaw and made him look right into your eyes before you straddled him and violently kissed him, like a wild animal marking its territory.

Taeyong’s hands promptly grabbed your ass but you swatted them out. “Do you want me? Do you want it? First, you have to be a good little boy, got it?”

This wasn’t the first time you dominated him. It all started with an innocent question: ‘Baby, do you have any kinks?’. From looking at Taeyong’s stage persona alone one would be miles away from imagining that he liked to be a sub from time to time. Everything about him screamed ‘raw dominating sex’, so to say you were a little surprised when he asked you to dominate him in bed was an understatement but the truth was, you liked it far more than you could ever have imagined. So, since then, dom Y/N was a common occurrence in bed, and she definitely was about to make an appearance at one of Music Bank’s dressing rooms.

“Yes,” you pressed harder on his cock to make him realize he was missing a little something. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be your good little boy”

“That’s my baby boy,” your hand slid down his chest and abs which were exposed thanks to the revealing outfit he was wearing for the ‘Kick it’ promotions.

“I need you to do something for me baby,” you got up from on top of him, already missing the way his hardening cock was pressing against your centre, and placed your foot on top of his dick, applying a little bit of pressure. “Untie my sneakers and take out the shoelaces.”

While he worked on your shoes you made sure to massage his dick, you needed him to be nice and hard for what you had in store for him. Once he was finished you picked up one of the shoelaces and placed the other on the vanity right next to you. You then moved to his back and tied his hands behind the chair.

“Taeyong, Taeyong...why are you so misbehaved? Why do you have to make me look like a crazy bitch in front of everyone?”

“I-I don’t know ma’am.” You straddled him once again, the pressure on his cock making him choke upon his words.

“You don’t know?” You reached for the other shoelace and slowly ran it over his body, making his nipples perk up. “I think your problem is that you’re way too damn handsome.”

While your left hand moved between you two to cup his hard cock your right one grabbed his bleached hair to expose his neck to your starving mouth. “You drive me fucking crazy Yong.”

“Fuck,” he moaned.

Your hand slipped through his pants and squeezed his cock, wanting to feel him raw and hard. “Is this all for me baby?”

“Yes, just you. I can get hard just by looking at you-” and then your lips were on his, kissing him like nothing else mattered, like you two were the only ones in the world.

The handjob you were giving him and the making out session were getting you so turned on that you started to ride his thigh. 

Wanting to make you feel even better, Taeyong flexed his muscles and that extra bit of hardness made you pick up your pace, your kiss now becoming a mix of pants and lip bites. You let go of his cock and grabbed the back of the chair to help you ride his thigh better and in no time you were coming undone on top of him. 

“Shit,” you said once you were able to catch your breath. 

You looked into his eyes and noticed he was frustrated because you let go of his dick. “Are you frustrated baby boy?”

“Yes,” he whined.

“Then I’m sorry to tell you, but it’s only gonna get worse,” you took off your shirt and bra and started massaging your breasts right in front of his face, just out of his reach. “You want to touch them, baby?”

“I’d love to ma’am,” he proclaimed, his eyes completely fixated on your moves.

“Beg for them.”

“Can I please suck on your tits, they’re so beautiful.”

You raised yourself a bit so your boobs would be at the same level as his mouth and moved forward so he could kiss them. Instantly his skilled mouth picked up one of your nipples with his teeth and tugged on it, making you moan. The combination of him lapping his tongue around your nipple and then sucking on it was starting to rile you up all over again but, as much as you’d like to make him suck on your tits all day you couldn’t waste much time because the rest of the group needed the room to go on stage. So, after letting him play with your other nipple a bit more you got out from on top of him once again, a string of spit connecting your nipple with his mouth, and pulled his pants down, exposing his hard cock to the air.

“Look at that handsome cock, all hard for me.”

“C-can you please touch it ma’am?” his eyes were glazed, lost in lust.

“Since you asked so nicely baby…”

You got on your knees in front of him, grabbed his cock and proceeded to lick him all over, the moans escaping his sweet lips acting as a soundtrack to your dirty acts. You kissed and sucked, just like you were savouring a delicious lollipop. 

In truth, you just wanted to make his dick nice and wet for what you had planned next for him, but you loved sucking his cock so much that you totally got lost in it. You knew he was getting close to releasing because his moans were getting more aggressive, so you sped up and once he was about to cum you stopped, leaving him a frustrating mess yet again. He tried to get his dick close to your mouth but it was no use.

“Are you getting irritated, baby?” You teased while you dragged the hard tip of your shoelace on his chest again.

“Fuck, yes.”

“See, this is how you made me feel.” You gave a teasing little suck on the tip of his dick before you took the shoelace and tied it tight at the base of his cock, behind his balls, to act as an impromptu cock ring. “Irritated.”

Taeyong loved overstimulation, and you loved teasing the shit out of him. You also loved the way a cock ring would make his cock extra swollen for you and how it delayed his orgasm, a fact that you were definitely gonna use to punish him.

“Get up baby,” you pulled him up so he wouldn’t fall and made him lean on the vanity table full of makeup. You then turned around and started rubbing your ass on his boner rolling down your leggings and exposing your lacy panties to him.

“How are you so fucking hot?” he hissed.

“Wanna feel how wet I am for you baby?” You started rolling down your panties even before he hummed in response. You grabbed his dick from behind you and started rubbing his tip through your drenched folds.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.”

Suddenly someone knocked on the door, making your heart almost stop.

“Y/N leave our leader alone, we need to get ready for the stage!” Johnny’s voice said from the other side of the door.

“Just 5 more minutes!” You answered.

“Fine, make it quick!”

You turned around and searched the vanity for the scissors the makeup artist used to cut the fake eyelashes, rapidly finding them in her little kit. 

“Are you ready to fuck me, baby?” Taeyong had no idea what else you had in store for him, but he sure was about to find out.

“Fuck yes, free my hands please ma’am.”

“I will, but first, call for Lisa.” You were aware that with the scissors in your hand right now you probably looked like a psycho bitch that could cut out his wiener if he didn’t comply, but oh well.

“What? Why?”

“I know she can hear us if we’re loud enough, so you’re gonna call for her and then you’re gonna fuck me like you never have before, are we clear?” You grabbed his dick and spread the bead of precum that was leaking from his tip with your thumb.

“Fuck. LISA!” His eyes were closed in pure bliss as you teased him. “CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

“Taeyong? Yeah, is everything alright?” Her concerned voice sounded from the other side of the wall.

“You’re such a good boy, and good boys deserve treats,” you cut the shoelace that was restraining his hands and in a blink of an eye, he was taking control and bending you over the vanity to fuck you raw.

He didn’t ease into you, he didn’t need to, you were so fucking wet that he slid right into you, your name immediately slipping through his tongue.

“Fuck Taeyong, you’re fucking me so good.” You were sure to moan loud enough so everyone in the area knew what was happening.

“Fuck you feel so tight.”

He was pounding into you like a fucking crazed animal, like he had been starving in a cage and someone came, left a nice juicy steak in front of it and opened the door. In a matter of seconds, you were cumming undone on his cock, your pussy tightening around him even more.

“Oh Taeyong, fuck,” you moaned as he slowed down his pace.

“M-ma’am, I can’t take it anymore, I need to cum. Can you please remove this?” Suddenly he was back to sub Taeyong like he hadn’t just bent you over a table and fucked the shit out of you. That was why you loved him so much.

You slipped out of him, gave him a gentle kiss and led him back to the chair. “I will, but only on conditions: I want the whole floor to hear you scream my name…”

“And the other?”

“I want you to cum inside me.”

He smirked, seemingly happy to comply with your demands. “As you wish.”

You carefully snipped your other shoelace, relief apparent on his features, got on top of him and eased down on his cock all the way to the bottom. Wasting no time, you grabbed onto his shoulders and started fucking him.

“Fuck Y/N you feel so good.”

His praises were like fuel for you, serving to make you go faster and harder. You wanted to make him scream your name. You wanted Lisa to hear how good you made him feel. You, and no one else.

Getting irked by the thought of her, you grabbed onto his jaw to make him look you straight in the eyes. “Tell me who does your cock belong to?”

“Fuck, you Y/N, only you.”

“Then say it. Louder.”

“My cock only belongs to you Y/N, no one else.”

You didn’t need to hear anything else, his confession was enough to make you cum for the third time today. With the combination of your pussy trying to milk him and his edged out dick, Taeyong came inside of you, his seed filling you up. 

You were so fucking spent that you immediately fell down onto his chest panting. 

“Well, next time I’m the one who’s gonna piss Y/N off.” 

For a brief moment, as you snuggled in with your boyfriend, you almost forgot about the world outside, but Johnny’s stupid joke made the both of you break out in laughter.

“Backoff Seo, she’s mine and I’m hers.”

© maliby, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

a/n: hey guys! feels so good to be back to writing filthy smut! this is my first time writing for NCT so fellow NCTzens please accept me <3 Hope you guys like it!

[paradisobound]

I Want It, I Got It: Chapter 17

Summary: Phil Lester was a worker for the BBC in London. Working in the advertising department, he was content being alongside his friend and fellow coworker PJ during every shift. However, the BBC is temporarily being used as a film set for a new movie staring Hollywood ‘It’ star, Daniel Howell. Being stuck as an extra on the set, Phil finds it’s hard to ignore the famous star. And maybe, just maybe, Dan finds it hard to ignore Phil as well.

Word Count: 3.5k (this chapter)

Warnings: Occasional swearing and sexual themes

Rating: Explicit

Updates will be every Sunday around 1pm EST

**MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3 | WATTPAD**

For a split second, Phil thought that maybe this idea wasn’t the smartest. It wasn’t exactly the most fool proof and he was sure that something bad was bound to happen. For one: he had no idea what it even meant to arrive to an airport and have a private jet waiting for him. 

That in itself was quite over whelming. 

For two: he had no idea how it even went to ride on a private jet. All he knew was that Dan’s bodyguard and a few other people who neglected to introduce themselves were also on the same plane and he felt a bit…out of place. Especially so with his Adidas bag as his ‘carry on’ luggage. 

His brother Martyn was watching Spike for the week and Phil had dropped him off before running to the airport after being stuck in traffic. Dan had reassured him that he plane would not leave without him―contrary to every other commercial plane. But Phil still felt like he had to rush to get there. 

But it was an entirely different feeling stepping off from the plane and being in sunny Los Angeles with the warmth kissing his skin. He’s escorted away to a private car by Joshua which should feel weird but Phil honestly finds it comforting knowing he had Dan’s bodyguard to protect him from any weird paparazzi or people. 

Phil gets into the back of the car and relaxes into the seat as the driver pulls away. He opens his phone and sends a text to Dan saying that he was here and on his way to his house…his house. Man, Phil didn’t quite know what to expect knowing he was about to see Dan’s house. Should he be nervous? Should he be excited? What is the proper reaction to seeing someone famous’s house for the first time? 

Nothing is said by anyone in the car the entire time they’re driving. If Phil wasn’t so overwhelmed by the entire ordeal, he might have used some of his abilities to start small talk with the driver but instead, he’s left speechless. 

It doesn’t take long for them to get to where they need to be and soon, Phil feels his breath leave his body as he gets to see what Los Angeles is beginning to look like―minus the heavy traffic that was currently holding them up. 

He took some photos for himself to keep as a memory and he added a snapshot to his Instastory so that way he could brag to his friends back home where he was. He knew that they would all be waiting and watching over social media for anything that he may say or post. 

Not to mention, he’s sure his name is going to be on some news sites by the end of the evening anyway. He can imagine it now. DAN HOWELL’S NEW BEAU ARRIVES IN LOS ANGELES or something like that. He feels a bit exasperated even at the thought of it. 

They crest up a steep hill and suddenly, they’re heading towards bigger and bigger mansions and Phil feels his heart stop a bit in his throat. He knew that Dan’s popularity and celebrity status would obviously mean that he would have a massive house but he was sure that the house they just passed was one of the Kardashian’s. 

“Excuse me…” Phil found his voice ringing out in the dead silence of the car. The driver turned his head slightly in recognition of Phil getting his attention. “Where are we?” 

“The Hollywood Hills.” The driver answers calmly. 

“Dan’s house is up here?” 

The driver nods. “Mr. Howell’s house is right up here. Just have to turn here and ring through the gate.” 

Phil sat back and watched as the driver took a right turn and suddenly was confronted by a gate with a code on the side. The driver put in the code and the gates shuddered before they began to open slowly, allowing for the driver to pass through. 

The drove down the straight road until they reached a semi-circle and the driver pulled around. In full view was Dan’s home, sat back away from everything else. It was pristine white with a beautiful fountain in front of it. It wasn’t nearly as big as all of those mansions that Phil had seen but it still blew his mind when the driver stepped out and opened his door for him. 

Phil grabbed his bag and stepped out onto the pavement of the driveway. He took in a deep breath and reached up, anxiously pushing his glasses further on his nose in a nervous habit. He began to walk forward, not even sure where to go in when he sees Dan, stood on the steps of his house with his arms crossed loosely over his chest. 

Phil had the overwhelming urge to run over and pick him up, squeezing him tight and just hugging him until they can’t breathe. But he didn’t. Instead, he tried to, as calmly as one could when they were shaking, walk over to Dan. 

Dan flashed his massive blinding smile at Phil and Phil flashed it back and suddenly, his bag was dropped to the ground as Dan wrapped his arms around him in a hug and held on tight. This was the first contact that they’d ever had but Phil honestly wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Dan’s hug was genuine and warm and all Phil wanted to do was never let him go. He felt Dan’s face press into his neck as his grip tightened for a moment and then loosed. Phil let go and Dan let go too and they just looked at each other. 

Phil could kiss him. He really could and maybe he will? 

It would be so easy to lean in and just do it. 

He begins to lean in and Dan looks like he’s going to lean in too but…

“Dan? Where did you go? We’re not done going over what we’re setting up for the party tonight!” 

Marianne, Dan’s manager, came rushing out the door after them and whatever moment they were sharing was gone just as fast as it had came. 

Dan rolled his eyes and waved her off. “Tell Jess and Morgan that I’ll be back in a moment. Whatever they’re setting up can’t be that important anyway.” 

Phil furrowed his brows and when Dan turned back, he sensed the confusion that read on Phil’s face. “I’m sorry. I’m hosting a party tonight here at my house because apparently that’s what I have to do and my team are just busy setting up the decorations and everything else now. The caterer and the musicians will be around a bit later and this is all a bit of a hectic day, isn’t it?” 

Dan laughed nervously and Phil nodded because he really just wanted to spend the day with Dan. He wanted to be alone with Dan and just…he just wanted to be with Dan. No one else. Just him and Dan, cuddling or doing something more in Dan’s bed as they indulged in lost time. 

Phil really wanted to ask Dan on a date…and even better, maybe ask Dan if he’d like to be his boyfriend. But that’s a bit hard if Dan’s going to have hoards of people over tonight for a party. 

“I’m so sorry.” Dan repeats. “The timing was just pretty shit if I’m being honest but they wouldn’t really budge for the date since invitations went out for it like three weeks ago. I promise that the rest of the time you’re here, there will be no one else around. It’ll be just us.” 

Phil nods and forces a smile to Dan who just smiles back gently. 

“I’m really glad you’re here.” Dan continues. 

“I’m really glad I’m here too.” 

“Do you want something to eat? Or would you like a place to rest for a bit? I know how jet lag is so I can show you my room and you can take a little nap?” 

Phil nodded because he would love to take a nap for a few hours to try and catch up on sleep. He would absolutely love to just lay down in the plush comforter and pillows that he sees every time Dan Skype’s him. 

Dan motions him inside and Phil follows him, immediately feeling his breath hitch at the sight of the inside of Dan’s home. There is a grand staircase front and center when you walk in, and behind that, Phil can see an open area with what looks to be a TV and a living room set up. And in the distance, just past the windows, he can see a pool overlooking the valley. 

Dan takes him up the stairs and Phil follows as they head towards Dan’s bedroom. Dan pushes the door open and when Phil walks inside, his jaw drops. A massive king bed took up majority of the wall but that didn’t account for the rest of the stunning decor that laid around the room and on the walls. 

His bed was covered in a black grey duvet with big fluffy pillows and an ottoman in the front held a brand new sparkling suit and a pair of shoes―obviously for the party. Phil walks in further and looks out the left side, seeing a balcony with sliding glass doors and those billowy white curtains that Phil always thought looked cliche in romance novels. 

“It’s a bit of a mess.” Dan says, rubbing his neck. “But I haven’t really had the motivation to clean it up or anything.” 

“Dan, this is stunning.” Phil says, turning around and dropping his bag. “Everything about your house is just stunning.” 

Dan bites his lip and flashes red. “I personally think it’s a bit much but…it’s nice every once and a while to indulge in the perks, I guess?” 

Phil walks over to the bed, his feet carrying himself before he can even comprehend where he’s going. He presses his hand on the duvet and pushes down, feeling the feathery weight under his hand. He takes a seat and toes off his sneakers, hoping Dan won’t mind, and feels himself sink into the mattress. 

“You look like you’re in heaven, mate.” Dan says with a laugh. “But you’re welcome to sleep here for a little bit. I have to go back downstairs to make sure Marianne and the team aren’t fucking anything up but I’ll come up and wake you up if you start sleeping too long.” 

Phil nods and turns to him. “Thank you.” 

Dan nods back and smiles before he turns on his heels and leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. 

Phil lays down on the bed and feels his body sink into it. He closes his eyes, taking off his glasses and setting them to the side, and just relaxes into it. He could get used to being here, sharing this bed with Dan. 

He doesn’t know how long he sleeps for, or really know even when he falls asleep. But when he wakes up, Dan is laying beside him in bed, his own eyes shut in a peaceful slumber. 

Phil gets the urge to reach over and stroke a stray piece of his hair off from his eyes. But he doesn’t. He just watches as Dan’s face crinkles up a bit in his sleep and then relaxes. He finds himself rolling closer, wanting to experience what it’s like to cuddle with Dan―and especially one who is sleepy. 

He reaches out and arm and puts his hand on Dan’s side, feeling the warmth travel through his touch. Dan stirs and Phil jumps, immediately thinking that his was a mistake and he’s breached some line that he shouldn’t have. But instead, Dan’s eyes open just a little bit and he smiles gently at Phil before he throws his arm over Phil’s chest and scooches forward. 

Dan’s head comes to rest on Phil’s chest and Dan’s body is practically covering Phil’s at this point, but he doesn’t care in the slightest. Dan’s weight and warmth is grounding for him and he wraps his arms around him, holding him just the way he wanted to, and lets his eyes drift back off into sleep. 

When he wakes up again, Dan is sat on the edge of the bed, stretching his arms up and then reaching down to unwrinkle his shirt that had gotten wrinkled as they slept. Dan scratches his side and then turns his head and his lips curl up in a smile as he sees Phil awake. 

“Hey, didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

Phil shook his head. “You didn’t.” 

“Is it okay that we cuddled?” Dan asked, his voice getting a bit more airy and serious. “Because I know I can get a bit clingy when I sleep but I didn’t want to cross any lines.” 

Phil quickly shook his head. “I really loved cuddling with you actually.” He smiles wider. “I really would like to do more of that actually.” 

Dan laughs and lets out a snort as he stands up. “Maybe later. But my party begins in a few hours and I need to get ready and I’m assuming you will have to too. And I also want to eat something before it begins as well.” 

Phil nods and begins to sit up, putting his glasses on as he swings his legs out to the edge of the bed and begins to stand on wobbly limbs. He’s still a bit jet-lagged, nowhere near as bad as he was before. 

He’s about to walk to his bag and pull out some clothes when he’s hit with the sudden realization that he did not pack anything for a party. Nothing he brought would be suitable for Dan’s party. 

“I don’t think I have anything to wear.” 

Dan looks up from where he’s stood at the end of his ottoman. “You can just borrow something of mine?” 

That is how two hours later, Phil ends up in the middle of a party that is definitely in full swing with a small plate of Hors d’oeuvres in his hand. He’s not quite sure where to begin or even how to begin. 

Dan is by his side but it’s been hard to really know what he’s supposed to do in these situations when Dan is currently downing his third cocktail of the evening and Phil isn’t even sure where his went. 

There had to be over 300 people in Dan’s house. It felt like people were packed like sardines inside the walls and Phil felt a bit overwhelmed. But at least this part was classy compared to the university parties that he used to go to as a student. 

These people were all dressed in fine and fancy dresses and well groomed tuxes. They sipped Champagne and ate finger foods and mingled with everyone else. There was no crazy lights or music or really anything that would scream a crazy party to Phil. 

But it’s just that these were all high profile celebrities and here was Phil, trying to find his way through the crowd to follow Dan, all the while trying to not spill his plate of food on the floor. 

Dan tried to introduce him to some of his friends. Many of them he did recognize from TV shows and even other movies. But a lot of them he didn’t know and he wanted to remain polite so he just nodded slowly and smiled as if he did know who they were. 

But it was hard for him to navigate all of the people and to find people he actually felt like he could speak to. A lot of them weren’t even the same social class as Phil and it was quite obvious in the way they held themselves in comparison to Phil who, frankly, had no fucking clue what he was doing. 

Within a few hours, he was a bit exhausted already and he could tell Dan was as well. But everywhere Dan went, he went, and when he find himself getting too claustrophobic, he walked out the sliding glass doors onto the patio with the pool where less people were mingling. 

He found a seat on a bench by the poolside and set down his plate and cursed himself for losing his actually really amazing cocktail. But it felt good to take a break away from everyone and not feel like he was fighting through the crowds. 

He’s not even entirely sure where Dan went either. 

Phil sits in silence all by himself as he eats the rest of his food and then gets out his cell phone to scroll through social media for a few. He’s still scrolling through his phone when footsteps enter his thought and he looks up and sees Dan stood in front of him with two glasses in his hands. 

He hands one to Phil and then he takes a sip of his own before sitting down. 

“It’s all a bit much, isn’t it?” Dan says, setting his glass onto the bench next to them. “It’s all a bit crazy actually when I look inside my own home and see everyone here. Like, I don’t even know a quarter of these people.” 

“What is the party for?” Phil asks. 

Dan shrugs his shoulders. “Literally not even that sure to be honest. I think something to do with my film.” 

Phil nods slowly and brings the rim of the glass up to his lips as he takes a drink and sets it down. “I’ve never been to a party like this before.” 

“I know.” Dan says. “I never had either prior to me actually becoming a well-known somebody.” He pauses. “They’re just so overwhelming. Funnily enough, you snagged this bench to break away which is the same bench I go to when I’m feeling overwhelmed.” 

“It’s a beautiful view, sitting here.” Phil comments, pointing out to the valley that you see just beyond Dan’s fence surrounding his pool. 

Dan nods. “It’s one of the few perks of owning this house.” 

Phil doesn’t know quite what to say, so he brings up his glass and takes another sip of his drink. Dan beside him finishes off his own.

“I’ve felt something for you since we saw each other for the first time in London.” Dan suddenly says. “And I feel like if I don’t say anything now while I’m a bit buzzed than I won’t. But I just wanted you to know that.” 

“I’ve liked you since we met.” Phil admits. “I knew it was more than just a silly crush when I couldn’t ever get you out of my head. I thought about you all the time.” 

“All the time?” Dan asks, raising an eyebrow. Phil feels his cheeks flush and he reaches out to swat gently at Dan’s arm. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“I really like you, Phil.” Dan says, turning his head to face him. 

Phil feels himself smile at the declaration before both them begin to lean in. 

Their lips collide and Phil feels how perfectly they slot together, almost as if they were made for each other. Dan’s hand comes up and his fingers weave through Phil’s hair as he holds him close for the kiss. 

Phil feels Dan’s tongue swipe against his bottom lip and he opens his mouth to let Dan in as their kisses deepen. He feels his breath shorten and his hands move up on Dan’s blazer, grabbing the lapels and pulling him closer. 

It was like fireworks going off in the distance. Dan’s lips on Phil’s felt perfect and natural. They were soft but also a bit dry but Phil didn’t care. He pulled back from the kiss and looked at Dan, his lips red and swollen. He dove back forward and connected their lips again like their lives depended on it. 

He doesn’t know how long they actually kissed for and frankly, he doesn’t care. When he pulls back for the second time, he looks at Dan and just smiles and laughs and Dan does the same. 

Everything feels spectacular and right. Phil can already feel the fondness for Dan climbing higher and higher the longer that they sit together on the bench. Dan intertwines their fingers and Phil hold his hand close to his body as they sit. 

The party continued behind them as they spoke the rest of the night away. They stole a few more kisses before they headed back inside as the party began to fizzle and people began to leave. 

By the end of the night, they were back in Dan’s bed together and Phil held Dan close, pressing little kisses on Dan’s hair as they fell asleep. 

Everything about this day was more than Phil could have ever asked for and he’ll never forget it as long as he lives. 

[disappearingground]

The Jenny Lewis Experience

The New York Times July 24, 2014

A version of this article appears in print on July 27, 2014, Page 18 of the Sunday Magazine with the headline: The Jenny Lewis Experience.

By Jeff Himmelman

“They’d put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on,” Jenny Lewis said. We were sitting in a restaurant in Laurel Canyon, not far from her home, and she was describing her early childhood with parents who made their living performing as an itinerant Sonny-and-Cher-style lounge act called Love’s Way. “We lived in hotels,” she said. “My sister and I, they would just keep us in the hotel room, and they’d go down and play.” When Lewis was born in 1976, her parents were doing a stand at the Sands. They split up when she was 3, and her mother — herself the daughter of a dancer and a vaudeville performer — took Jenny and her sister to Van Nuys, in the San Fernando Valley, where she worked as a waitress and struggled to keep her family afloat. “We were on welfare,” Lewis said, before describing the day their fortunes changed, when an agent picked young Jenny out of a crowd at her preschool. “I think mostly because I was a redhead,” she said. “And I was a weird little kid, a weird little tomboy.”

She soon landed her first commercial, for Jell-O, and came under the wing of Iris Burton, an eminent children’s agent who represented River and Joaquin Phoenix and Fred Savage. Lewis started working steadily in commercials, television (“The Golden Girls,” “Growing Pains,” “Mr. Belvedere”) and film (“The Wizard,” “Troop Beverly Hills,” “Pleasantville”), living the surreal and somewhat communal life of a child star in the ‘80s. She spent her days being tutored on set and her evenings at places like Alphy’s Soda Pop Club in Hollywood, which catered exclusively to kids in the industry. At a party there when Lewis was 10, the actor Corey Haim handed her a cassette tape with Run-D.M.C. on one side and the Beastie Boys on the other. “There have been a couple of cassette tapes that have changed my life,” she said, “and that was the first one” — the tape that got her hooked on hip-hop, which eventually led her to songwriting.

I asked Lewis when she first fully realized the role she played in her family, the depth of their dependence on her. “Eight years old,” she said. “I remember the moment. That’s a pretty big thing for a kid to realize. And I remember the power in that.” By the time she was 14 or 15, with nobody to answer to, she could be as wild as she liked as long as she showed up to work and hit her marks. “I was up for it, honestly,” she said. “I loved the work and I loved the people, and it kind of prepped me for what I do now.”

What Lewis does now, the music she makes, is hard to characterize. She is often compared with Joni Mitchell and Emmylou Harris, and there is a kind of timelessness to the way she writes and sings. But the throwback stuff doesn’t quite capture her. Among some music fans — including many other well-known musicians — Lewis is considered a kind of indie goddess, a stylish performer who defies genre and salts her songs with a sly and off-kilter intelligence. Her first band, Rilo Kiley, signed a major-label deal with Warner Bros. Records in 2005; her first side project, the Postal Service, led by Ben Gibbard of Death Cab for Cutie, sold more than a million copies of its debut; and she has released two well-received solo records since then. Next week, she will release a third, “The Voyager,” her first solo effort in six years. It has been a battle to get it out. Among other things, she has dealt with the death of her father, writer’s block and bouts of insomnia so severe and debilitating that she said they left her almost unable to function for nearly two years.

You’d never guess that from meeting her, though. She talks like a true child of L.A. — the “bro"s and “dude"s flow freely, without affectation — and her go-to traveling costume is a vintage Adidas track suit, Adidas shell-top sneakers and, on the day I first met her, hot-pink lipstick and oversize sunglasses. She lives with her longtime boyfriend and collaborator, the musician Johnathan Rice, up a long canyon road in the hills that separate the San Fernando Valley from downtown Los Angeles. Her house (called “Mint Chip” for its brown-and-light-green exterior) is set into the hillside, looking out over a ravine. There is a rehearsal space with a drum kit, a P.A. and some vintage gear, an old piano in the living room and a vinyl edition of James Taylor’s “Sweet Baby James” propped up beside the fireplace. Beyond the small pool in the back yard there’s a windowed gazebo that Rice uses as his songwriting space. Whatever you are imagining of the California light and the laid-back lifestyle: yes.

Historically, nearby Laurel Canyon has been synonymous with a certain kind of lush ‘60s acoustic-and-multipart-harmony sound, but Lewis’s musical roots spring from the ‘90s and the smart indie rock of Elliott Smith and Pavement. When she was 20 or so, her acting career wasn’t where she wanted it to be, and she saw that she needed to make a change. “I was the best friend,” she said. “I was the friend, forever. I wanted the big, juicy roles, and they didn’t come to me.” (She read for the part of Bunny in the Coen brothers’ film “The Big Lebowski,” for one, but didn’t get it.) She had known Blake Sennett, another former child actor, since she was 17, and they began writing together and eventually formed Rilo Kiley.

She and Sennett dated and broke up and kept playing together. The relationship was always fraught (Gibbard remembers Lewis screaming at Sennett over the phone during the first Postal Service tour), but Lewis said it gave her the confidence she needed to become a real songwriter. “Through my partnership with Blake, I found a voice within myself that I didn’t know I had,” she said. “It sounds kind of cheesy, but I figured out who I was.” From the first lines of the first song on Rilo Kiley’s debut record, a track called “Go Ahead,” you can hear the DNA of the musician Lewis has become nearly 15 years later — a floating, distinct voice, an unpredictable melody, a wryly subverted rhyme.

The link between songwriting and autobiography is a tantalizing but tenuous one, and Lewis prefers to preserve as much mystery as she can. But she affirms that she has never written anything more personal than “Better Son/Daughter,” one of the strongest tracks off Rilo Kiley’s second record, “The Execution of All Things.” The song is about waking up in the morning and being unable to open your eyes or get out of bed: “And your mother’s still calling you, insane and high/Swearing it’s different this time.” Eventually it opens into an anthem of wounded fortitude, the kind you can imagine cars full of young women screaming along to. The actress Anne Hathaway, one of Lewis’s close friends, told me that she still turns to that song whenever she’s struggling. “It’s become almost like a prayer,” she said.

Outside whatever veiled references she makes in her music, Lewis doesn’t talk much about her mother. She acknowledged that it was a “difficult relationship” and that she didn’t have a “traditional upbringing,” but that was about it. At one point, I referred to a report in The Boston Globe in 1992, when Lewis was 16, noting that she owned a house in Sherman Oaks and a townhouse in North Hollywood. “We lost all of that,” she said, with a blankness I hadn’t seen from her before. I asked her why. “We just lost ‘em,” she said. “I achieved a lot as a child, I supported my family, but in the end we lost it all.”

In 2004, Rilo Kiley toured with Coldplay, but Lewis was still scraping by, living in a small apartment in Silver Lake with an Iranian rockabilly musician she found on Craigslist. In her bedroom, when she wasn’t on tour, she wrote the songs that would become “Rabbit Fur Coat,” her first solo record. The idea for it came from Conor Oberst, the songwriter (also known as the frontman of Bright Eyes) who helped form Saddle Creek Records, which had put out “The Execution of All Things.” “I encouraged her,” Oberst told me. “You know, why don’t you step away from this thing that is obviously causing you a lot of distress and make a record on your own?” Sennett had already made a solo record, which upset Lewis. “I was so jealous if someone else got Blake’s musical attention,” she told me. “I was shattered by it.” She made “Rabbit Fur Coat,” she said, in part to prove that “I can do it too on my own — I don’t need you.”

The songs on “Rabbit Fur Coat” are ethereal and haunted, rooted in deep Southern and gospel-inflected melodic traditions. On the record’s title track, Lewis’s lyrics again invite comparison with her family life:

Let’s move ahead 20 years, shall we? She was waitressing on welfare, we were living in the valley A lady says to my ma, “You treat your girl as your spouse You can live in a mansion house.”

And so we did, and I became a hundred-thousand-dollar kid . . . But I’m not bitter about it I’ve packed up my things and let them have at it And the fortune faded, as fortunes often do And so did that mansion house

Where my ma is now, I don’t know She was living in her car, I was living on the road And I hear she’s putting stuff up her nose . . .

After the record was done, Lewis went on tour with Rilo Kiley. When the band played the Showbox in Seattle in 2005, Gibbard picked her up after sound check. They’d become friends during the Postal Service tour a few years earlier. As they drove around in Gibbard’s car, Lewis played the new songs for him. “I just remember, all hyperbole aside, being completely blown away,” Gibbard said. “It was undoubtedly the best thing that she had done.” The press shared Gibbard’s reaction, and Lewis got more attention on her own than Rilo Kiley had ever gotten as a band. “Everything was so easy for the first time,” she said. “It just unfolded so naturally. And then going out on the road and touring was the most fun I’ve ever had on tour. There was no tension for the first time.” Rilo Kiley would put out one more record, but it soon became clear that it would be their last.

“I want to show you something,” Lewis said. We were talking in her kitchen about her second solo release, “Acid Tongue,” which she recorded over three weeks in 2008 at the legendary Sound City Studios in Van Nuys. The record had a bunch of special guests on it — Elvis Costello, Chris Robinson of the Black Crowes — but the most meaningful one was Lewis’s dad, who died in 2010. In the living room, she pointed out a glass vitrine on top of the piano that held one of her father’s chromatic bass harmonicas. Before the “Acid Tongue” sessions, she hadn’t spoken to her father in years, but she felt comfortable enough with the musical family she had created around her — Rilo Kiley’s drummer, Jason Boesel; Johnathan Rice; some other musicians from the Laurel Canyon set — that she thought she could handle having him around. He played on the track “Jack Killed Mom,” and the reunion helped Lewis forgive him for leaving the family all those years ago. “He was playing lounges in Alaska,” Lewis said of when she tracked him down and asked him to play on the album. “That’s why I never saw him. It was not a malicious thing. My dad was a savant. He never drove a car, he never had a bank account,” she said. “I don’t even know if he realized that he wasn’t around, you know? I think he was just playing his gigs, trying to make a living.”

“Acid Tongue” was also a step toward recording everything all at once, live, to an analog tape machine — instead of in pieces to a computer. It’s a process that Lewis has developed a devotion to, and one that the songwriter and producer Ryan Adams would push to an extreme on “The Voyager.” (After “Acid Tongue,” Lewis and Rice released “I’m Having Fun Now” in 2010, an underrated duo record that failed to get the kind of traction they hoped for.) For the last few years, Lewis had been sitting on many of the songs that would make up “The Voyager,” battling insomnia and struggling to get them down. She ran into Adams in Los Angeles and told him she had some songs she was working on, and he invited her to come by his studio, Pax-Am, on the Sunset Strip. She played a few of the tunes for him on her acoustic guitar.

‘My dad was a savant,’ Lewis said. ‘He never drove a car, he never had a bank account. I don’t even know if he realized that he wasn’t around, you know?’

“My initial impression was there were some really minimal but necessary things that had to happen,” Adams told me. “I could tell that she had sat with them a little too long.” (Lewis agrees: “I was like: ‘Dude, go for it. Help me.’ ”) On the first song that they worked on together, “She’s Not Me,” they changed the key to relax Lewis’s voice, and then Adams and his production partner, Mike Viola, strapped on electric guitars and rolled through the full song, three times, with Lewis playing and singing live with a backing band. Adams pronounced the track finished for the time being and said they would move on, without even listening back to what they’d done. “For Jenny, revisionism wouldn’t have worked,” Adams said. “The version she would play on the couch in the control room, we would just stand there, like, ‘Wow, this is classic songwriting.’ Every time. So that was sort of my mission. How do we get an ‘unmind’ vibe here and then go back later and look at these beautiful raw takes and just splash a little bit of watercolor on them.” Lewis ended up recording the bulk of the record with Adams over 10 days. (She worked on the single, “Just One of the Guys,” separately with Beck before she and Adams went into the studio together.)

“The Voyager” is an older and more direct record than her previous two. Her characters are still drinking and doing blow and cheating on each other, but there is a kind of weariness to it all. One line in particular has caught the early attention of some of her many female fans, during the bridge of “Just One of the Guys”: “There’s only one difference between you and me/When I look at myself all I can see/I’m just another lady without a baby.” She has been hesitant to acknowledge what that line specifically means to her. “I wanted to communicate some very basic things,” she told me, without saying what they were. She was already starting to regret having talked about some of her other struggles while making the record, including open discussion of the insomnia that plagued her. “Now everyone’s asking me about insomnia, which I’m terrified is going to happen to me again,” she said. “You can’t think about it too much, and everyone’s asking me about it, and I’m like, ‘I’m fine, I’m fine.’ But, [expletive], am I not going to get to sleep again?” You could hear the fear in her voice. “It’s my fault for putting it out there,” she said.

The video for “Just One of the Guys,” which got more than a million views in its first 24 hours online, was made with the actresses (and Lewis’s friends) Anne Hathaway, Brie Larson, Kristen Stewart and Tennessee Thomas. It’s an entertaining video, part Robert Palmer, part Beastie Boys, with the women spending half the time playing a sleek female backing band and then switching into male roles, clowning around in Lewis-inspired Adidas track suits and fake mustaches. Lewis, as herself, holds up a positive pregnancy test, to which Lewis-in-drag-and-fake-goatee responds, “It’s not [expletive] mine.” When she gets to the “just another lady without a baby” line, she smiles at the camera and then dances. It’s a house of mirrors, a romp through emotionally treacherous terrain.

When I visited Lewis in June, she and Rice (she calls him “Rico”) showed me an early cut of the video in the bedroom of their house, with Lewis calling out “bra shot” whenever we caught a glimpse of her cleavage. Driving down the hill toward dinner later, we got to talking, if somewhat obliquely, about the expectations of her female fans and the sexuality that is inseparable from who she is and the music she makes. She didn’t like to talk about feminism, she said, and in particular the trend of women criticizing one another for not being feminist enough: “What does it matter what I think of Lana Del Rey?” In the months before the release of “The Voyager,” Lewis has taken to wearing airbrushed suits for her live shows, rather than the sexier get-ups she used to wear onstage; she has said she feels “androgynous” these days and wants her costume to reflect that. But not always. As we made our way down the ravine, she told a story about the day President Obama came to visit a compound not far from Mint Chip. She wanted to go out for a run, but a Secret Service member stopped her and told her she needed an ID if she wanted to get back through the security cordon. “I was like, ‘Dude, I’m wearing short shorts,’ ” Lewis said. " ‘You’ll remember me.’ ”

After recording and touring mostly with men in the early days, Lewis now consistently seeks out women for her band and even tried to put together an all-female crew for the “Just One of the Guys” video, which she also directed. She said her desire to work largely with women was a response to the dissolution of her relationship with her mom. “The more I surround myself with women, the easier it is to reconcile my past in a way.” It seems to be serving a kind of psychic need, to replace the female relationship that once dominated her life with a kind of surrogate family of her choosing, a family that has stood behind her through the struggles of the last few years.

“I’m happy to see her making records,” Beck told me. “I just feel like music needs her. It needs someone doing what she’s doing. She’s got a special voice, as a writer, and then as a musician. She’s this great combination of so many things.” Conor Oberst shares that view, describing Lewis as one of the most important songwriters and performers in contemporary music. “Go see her play,” Oberst said. “Because we should all feel lucky to be around while she’s doing her magic.”

On a night in early June, at a sold-out show at the 9:30 Club in Washington, Lewis had her magic all lined up and ready to go. Backstage, she was relaxed, joking with her band and casually doing her makeup in the mirror on the wall. Just before show time, one band member disappeared, but Lewis was unperturbed. “It’s O.K.,” she said with a smile when he showed up, apologizing, just as they were about to go on. “You made it!” She took a sip of red wine out of a plastic cup and then walked up the steps to the stage.

‘I just feel like music needs her,’ Beck said. ‘It needs someone doing what she’s doing. She’s got a special voice, as a writer, and then as a musician.’

To watch Lewis perform live is to understand what Beck and Oberst and other musicians admire in her. “She turns into this other person on stage,” Gibbard said, “this unbelievably powerful performer” — and it’s true. Lewis is both a natural and a pro. Throughout the night, she had big middle-aged guys and teenage girls — “teeny little chickens,” as she called them later — singing along to every word. During the encore, Lewis sang the ballad “Acid Tongue” accompanied only by her acoustic guitar and the rest of her band grouped around a microphone behind her. “To be lonely is a habit,” Lewis sang, her voice ringing out in the near-silent room, “like smoking or taking drugs, and I’ve quit them both. . . . " The audience and her band belted along with her as she finished the line: “But man was it rough.”

It was one of those lovely moments you hope for in live music, when everything in the room connects. But it was also a kind of emblem of where Lewis has been and of where she is now. She has overcome all kinds of obstacles to get here, often with great style, but it hasn’t always been pretty. Whatever demons stole her sleep for these last few years, they’ve surely been with her forever, in one form or another. But they are also what gives such depth and soul to what she does. “I’m not looking for a cure,” Lewis sang, and as she stood in the spotlight at the 9:30 Club, nobody there would have thought she needed one.

[seoulfulcity]

July 7, 2018: A Humidity and Noraebang Cocktail

안녕하세요,

This week started off really wet with 100% rain and thunderstorm and a humidity that never went below 95%.

Sunday, July 1, 2018: I had to shower multiple times in the day because I could not even walk down Anam-dong without being drenched in both rain and sweat. Although, all my pores opened up and I had good skin for a few days.

The day was pretty slow - I met up with Anthony, Bonnie, Valentino, Sophie, Matt, Jason, Joyce, and Thai and was introduced to Bonnie's roommate Deedee and her friend who showed us that you eat raw spam in China. We ate at a barbeque place next to Chicken Bus called Seorae (서래 갈매기).

Later that night, Valentino, Matt and I met up at Valentino's room to watch Train to Busan (Busanhaeng/부산행) on Netflix; but since we're in South Korea, it did not give us the option of English subtitles so we watched Taegukgi: Brotherhood of War (Taegukgi Hwinallimyeo/태극기 휘날리며) on YouTube instead.

Monday, July 2, 2018: It was a regular night that started with Minki-hyung (민기형) taking me, Matt, Florence, Wendelyn, Sophie, Thai, and Joyce to have chicken galbi in a place called Chuncheon Dakgalbi (춘천닭갈비) where the owner called me "greedy" for setting up two side dishes (banchan/반찬) for each table and claimed that it was too excessive and we wouldn't be able to finish it. Culture shock, I guess? Since, Korean barbeque places in Los Angeles give us a set of banchan (반찬) per person, rather than per table, most of the time. Hyunjic-oppa (현진오빠) joined us towards the end of our dinner.

We went to a karaoke (noraebang/노래방) place nearby ending our night at one in the morning. There were nine of us for a total of ₩14,000, so we decided to have two people not pay and have the other seven of us pitch in ₩2,000 each. Hyunjic-oppa (현직오빠) had a bright idea and asked the worker at the noraebang (노래방) to draw two of our school IDs from a hat to decide. Minki-hyung (민기형) and I did not end up paying for noraebang (노래방) that night.

Tuesday, July 3, 2018: The sun started shining and puffy white clouds filled the sky. Everybody decided to go outside to enjoy Seoul without the rain for the first time. I walked the entire Anam-dong with no idea where to go or what to do just because I only wanted to be outside. The humidity was still unbearable though. It stayed within 90% throughout the day, so I gave in to the Asian mini fan culture and bought myself one from the nearby Daiso store.

Walking back from Daiso, I saw a really attractive worker in Baskin Robbins, so I bought a Puss in Boots milkshake and stayed in to study for my Korean class enjoying my view.

I was getting over budget very fast so I did nothing special that night besides another soju night with Valentino, Matt, and Cara in a place called 88. Valentino finally got around and visited Myeongdong to buy his sim card and his Korean starter pack that included a black face mask, a hat with the South Korean flag (Taegukgi/태국기), and a white pair of Adidas shoes.

Wednesday, July 4, 2018: My actual ISC buddy never had the time to meet with us until this week, so he scheduled a lunch with each of us individually to get to know each other. His name is Hyungki-hyung (형기형) and it was his first time being a buddy for the summer program. He had a part-time job for the summer, so it was difficult for him to find the time to meet with us as a group. He asked me what I have not tried in Seoul yet and suggested bossam (보쌈), spiced belly pork in a restaurant that specializes in it called Ssago (싸고). I enjoyed it so much I later dragged Matt and Valentino to the same location later in the week.

After my lunch with my actual buddy, I decided to skip my only summer class to tour around Seoul and visited SMTown Museum in COEX mall with Sophie. Luckily, my Korean professor did not give out any paperwork or homework that day so I didn't miss much. Sophie and I walked around COEX mall before going into SMTown Museum and just missed the 3 PM EXO show in the theater. The next show was going to be at 7:30 PM with SHINee, and I was not willing to wait four hours and pay an extra ₩10,000 to watch a live concert.

The SMTown Museum ticket was only ₩18,000 and it had areas for each SM artists. At the main lounge were bookshelves of all the albums and an entire timeline for each SM group, such as EXO, Super Junior, TVXQ!, NCT, SHINee, Red Velvet, Girls' Generation, and f(x). Then they have an entire section dedicated to each SM group which includes the outfits they wore in their music videos and concerts.

We returned back to Anam later in the afternoon and met up with our friend group to spend the night together again. Florence showed me a machine in Daiso that dispensed customized stickers with your name on it. So, I got one with my name (크리스) and Korea University (고여대학교) in Korean. I also introduced Florence and Valentino to my favorite restaurant in Anam-dong that specializes in chicken steaks (Dakgup Neunshin/닭굽는신), which is near the KU entrance by Anam Station (안암역) on the second floor of Namu Playstation Console Game Room. If you ever get to visit Anam-dong, make sure to visit this place. It's a regular and casual hangout for the KU students, if you want to be surrounded by local Koreans and not by foreigners and tourists.

In South Korea, you decide if the restaurant is good or not by their kimchi - so my kimchi tasting skills have been really improving.

The kimchi at the chicken steak restaurant was still my favorite one though. I ate at that place the second day I arrived in Seoul after orienting myself to the campus with Tommy, and met two girls from Venezuela and Romania who have studied in Korea University for four years, and told me the fun fact about kimchi being the deciding factor on how good the restaurants are. They both agreed that the kimchi at my favorite chicken steak restaurant was one of the better ones.

Since it was Fourth of July, the Americans in our group (Valentino, and Matt, and me) dragged the group to a coin noraebang (코인노래방) to sing American songs, especially "Party in the USA". It was ₩500 for two songs, so we did not pay by hour and worry about wasting time finding songs. We stayed in the coin noraebang (코인노래방) for five hours and only spent close to ₩9,000 the entire night.

We tried looking for fireworks or sparklers to light up by our dorm or even the Han River, but to no avail. Our friends back in America were posting fireworks snaps and celebrating Fourth of July with American and Mexican foods, and it made me feel a little homesick; I still did not want to go home though.

We ended the night at McDonald's, since what was more American than McDonald's anyway?

Thursday, July 5, 2018: Another regular day. My Korean professor still taught the class in full Korean, cafeteria food was still filling, and my wallet was still trying to take a break from all the spending.

After class, I went to the CU convenience store next to Frontier House to grab a quick snack and bumped into Simi! We haven't seen each other since orientation day, so it took us a while to catch up with each other. I invited her to the Seoul Summer School Festival in a club in Itaewon called B-One Lounge Club Friday night, which was a huge club party for all the international students from the big universities in Seoul - Yonsei, Hanyang, Ewha, Seoul National, Korea, Hankuk, Sungkyunkwan, Hogang, Chung-Ang, Ajou, and many more.

After the conversation, I met for dinner with Davy, Sophie, Thai, Matt, and Joyce for some budae-jjigae (부대찌개), which is a sausage stew with gochujang (고추장), red chili paste in a place called Biya, which was basically next to the Frontier House stairs. Thai and Sophie could not stand eating spicy food, so they both settled in for the unlimited tater tot side dish. Thai also drowned the jjigae (찌개) with water and ramen to hide the spicy taste. Thai and Davy were disappointed since they asked Minki-hyung (민기형) for a hotpot location, and Minki-hyung (민기형) suggested to eat at Biya (비야). I guess he had a different idea of what hotpot is because jjigae (찌개) did not end up satisfying Thai and Davy's hotpot cravings.

After the dinner, we went around Anam-dong and settled in a restaurant, which specializes in seafood, called Shingshing Oring Eobada (싱싱 오링어바다), just under O-Bar Whiskey and Beer, to drink some apple-flavored sojus since the previous bars we checked out did not offer it (apple-flavored soju is our favorite drink).

Matt bought a 1.5L Milkis bottle from a nearby GS25 store and brought it in the the restaurant to mix with the apple-flavored sojus, since he wanted us to taste this easy-to-make cocktail.

Matt ordered shrimp tempura in horrifyingly-embarrassing Korean that our cute Korean waiter was laughing the entire time Matt was talking. It's funnier since Matt is Korean but does not speak a word of the language, so everybody he interacts with here in Seoul expects him to be fluent with the language. They start laughing or let out a sigh of disappointment whenever he says a Korean word in a heavy American accent. He had an experience with an Uzbek worker in a 7/11 store nearby where he asked for a cigarette in terrible Korean and the Uzbek worker laughed at him and spoke to him in fluent English to stop Matt from further embarrassing himself.

After mixing our first round of apple-flavored soju and Milkis, the cute waiter came over with his translator app and told Matt to not bring in outside drinks to the restaurant "from now on" so he mixed the Milkis with our sojus under the table throughout the rest of the night.

We went to the same coin noraebang (코인노래방) right after.

Friday, June 6, 2018: I was running on a few hours of sleep since we got home very late from the noraebang (노래방) and I had to wake up at 7:30 AM for the K-Pop flash mob hosted by the school. After getting home, Sophie asked me to help a drunk student she ran into back to his room in Frontier House since only guys can enter the building. The guy was very stubborn and I was very exhausted and needed to rest. I dropped him off after a good hour of him drunkenly eating his ramen and told his roommate, who was surprisingly still awake at that time, to knock on my room if he needed any help.

We learned the choreography to Red Velvet's "Red Flavor" in the Tiger Dome (Hwajung Cheyukgwan/화정체육관) from 9:30 to noon to perform the flashmob three times on camera at the main plaza in Korea University. The school gave away BT21 goods, signed CDs from Blackpink, SHINee, BTOB, and ONF, and four tickets to see KBS “Music Bank” live that afternoon to those who participated in the flash mob.

After the flash mob, I napped until it was time for us to go to Seoul Summer School Festival. I met with Matt and Valentino for a quick dinner at the bossam (보쌈) place I had lunch in with Hyungki-hyung (형기형) earlier in the week.

Valentino had both his phone and wallet stolen from the night before when he went out with his fraternity friends in Made bar in Itaewon. He fell asleep and woke up early in the morning with only his phone case left. So, both Matt and I have been helping him out paying for things and offering our phones so he kept up with our group Kakao Talk conversations, etc.

We met with Minki-hyung (민기형), Thai, and Sophie at Anam Station (안암역) after the dinner and headed to Itaewon just in time for the event to start at 11 PM. Bonnie, Joyce, Florence, Wendelyn, Lina, Simi and her roommate Edan, Salli, and Carolina were going to catch up with us later in the night. Hyunjic-oppa (현직오빠) and Hyungki-hyung (형기형) couldn't join us because they needed to study and do homework.

Valentino was initially denied entrance to the club because he was wearing his Adidas jogging pants, so he had to take the subway back with Sophie to change to a more acceptable pants. We left the club to drink some soju by the GS25 store next to the bar and met up with Bonnie, Wendelyn, Florence, and Joyce who were in line. Just behind them were Lina, Bruno, and Davonte, who I was meeting for the first time.

Lina actually messaged the group chat saying she wanted to get to know and hang out with us more, so that was why I was familiar with her - although, we didn’t see each other for the rest of the night after that. Not long after that at midnight, Simi and Edan came, while Salli and Carolina arrived around 2 AM.

Every time I went outside, I always took the chance to get some chicken skewer (dakkochi/닭꼬치) from the ahjumma just next to the entrance of the club - so much that she knew which sauce I wanted spread on my skewer. Hint: it’s teriyaki sauce.

I introduced the non-Americans to the cocktail called Adios Motherfucker (AMF), which is known in the US to black people out. Minki-hyung (민기형) finished the drink in one sip and Florence had to take him home at midnight - an hour after entering the club.

We left B-One a little past 5:30 AM in broad daylight. We had more skewered teriyaki chicken outside the club and headed back to our dorms.

It's currently 6:32 PM and I woke up just four hours ago, basically sleeping through breakfast and lunch; so I'm writing this blog waiting for the cafeteria to open for my first meal of the day at 7:30 PM. Luckily, I did not wake up with a headache, although my legs and feet are currently sore from seven hours of standing up and dancing.

Recently, I've been wanting to take a break from Korean foods, especially chicken and every form of soup. Every single restaurant around here serve mainly those two and I just wanted to eat something different - perhaps Japanese or Mexican food? I aimlessly walked around Anam-dong to look for a non-Korean restaurant to eat at and came across a tonkatsu place where they served a Japanese-Hawaiian fusion plate in Eunhwasu Sikdang (은화수 식당). After the filling meal, I bought a pack of banana milk and sweet bread from a convenience store and sat down to eat at the Central Plaza overlooking the Main Hall of Korea University that was beautifully lit up at night.

Michael (Inseok/인석) messaged me to meet Valentino at the Frontier House stairs since Valentino lost his phone and had no way to contact any of us since Kakao Talk wanted verification from his phone number attached to his account. Jordan and Matt joined us a while after and had banana milk and bread together.

It is Nay's birthday and they're all planning on going out to a bar in Hongdae tonight. Jordan was headed to Itaewon in a bit to visit some gay clubs also.

I think I might sit these down to take some time to recuperate. The night life here in Seoul doesn't stop, apparently. Until then!

고마워요, Chris 「크리스」

Update: I just met up with Thai, Davy, Hyunjic-oppa (현직오빠), Hyungki-hyung (형기형), Wendelyn, Matt, Valentino, and Florence for chicken and soju in Chicken Bus (치킨버스) and to watch the World Cup match between Sweden and England. I left earlier in the night to sleep, while Thai, Davy, Hyunjic-oppa (현직오빠), and Hyungki-hyung (형기형) stayed in the place to finish the game. Wendelyn, Matt, Valentino, and Florence headed to Hongdae for to continue drinking for Nay's birthday.

[theconservativebrief]

My parents were in New York City this month visiting two of their four children. Given that my mom enjoys shopping and air conditioning but bemoans walking, we have developed the strategy of taking her to areas where we can maximize the shopping and the distance in between.

During one of our excursions, I noticed that J.Crew had a rainbow flag in its window. So did the new Nordstrom’s men’s store. Bloomingdale’s has a pride section. The SoulCycle I visited earlier in the morning had a rainbow sign proclaiming “All Souls Welcome.” McDonald’s has rainbow french fry containers. And H&M, Nike, and Lululemon all had signs or merchandise, too.

The symbolic support for the LGBTQ community is ubiquitous, particularly during Pride Month. The list of causes with more visible support is short.

But what exactly are these stores and brands supporting? More important, what happens to the money we spend in these stores? Does brand support for LGBTQ issues have any real impact, or is it just, well, branding?

Take, for example, Adidas, which has a special section of its site called the “pride pack” selling rainbow merchandise to honor Pride Month. But it’s also one of the major sponsors for this year’s World Cup, which takes place in Russia, a country with anti-LGBTQ laws that make it unsafe for fans and athletes. That contradiction throws into sharp relief the emptiness that can lie at the center of corporate gestures of “support” for the LGBTQ community.

Boys kicking Adidas Telstar 18, the official match ball of the 2018 FIFA World Cup, during the opening of the 2018 FIFA World Cup Park in Moscow’s Red Square. Alexander Ryumin/TASS via Getty Images

As the general support for LGBTQ rights grows, so does the corporate incentive for brands and companies to position themselves in sync with that growing sentiment. But in that commercialization lies the disconnect: Brands promoting gay pride and the LGBTQ community may not always be consistent in actually supporting the LGBTQ community, but they still capitalize on the help that people want to give that community. It brings into question what Pride Month means, where it came from, and what we really commemorate when we celebrate it.

Pride Month, pride celebrations, and pride marches are how LGBTQ people and allies address the ongoing work for acceptance and equality, which ultimately brings us to the Stonewall Riots of 1969 in New York City. Fed up with being harassed and targeted, LGBTQ patrons of the Stonewall Inn, who were predominantly people of color, fought back against the police. It resulted in four nights of rioting.

“Before Stonewall, gay leaders had primarily promoted silent vigils and polite pickets, such as the ‘Annual Reminder’ in Philadelphia,” Fred Sargeant, one of the original organizers of the march, wrote in the Village Voice. “Since 1965, a small, polite group of gays and lesbians had been picketing outside Liberty Hall. The walk would occur in silence. Required dress on men was jackets and ties; for women, only dresses. We were supposed to be unthreatening.”

Stonewall, spurred by the frustration of being targeted and harassed, worked where polite and civil protests had failed. The first Pride march took place in 1970, a year later, to commemorate — loudly and without a dress code — those who fought for their rights.

Thanks to those Stonewall patrons and generations of LGBTQ people who fought for the rights of the community, the world is now an easier place to live for LGBTQ people than it was 10, 15, or 20 years ago.

E.G. Smith (left) and his mother, Norma Isaacs, 88, ride past the site of the original Stonewall Inn in New York’s Greenwich Village during the annual Gay and Lesbian Pride Parade on June 25, 1989. A record 150,000 people marched down Fifth Avenue, commemorating the 20th anniversary of the Stonewall Inn riots which gave birth to the gay rights movement. Sergio Florez/AP

But those advances in LGBTQ acceptance create an odd dynamic, since pride celebrations were originally a strongly political act born of a time when tolerance still hadn’t been won. The ostensible goal of the Stonewall riots and pride events is to make the world a place where LGBTQ people don’t need to fight for rights. Subsequently, one of the biggest criticisms that’s grown up with pride celebrations across the country is that they’ve become more about the party (in part because of the progress made) than the politics. And it’s a hell of a lot easier to commodify a party than it is a political act.

For example, in New York City this year, the Pride Island celebration — featuring musical guests and Skyy vodka sponsorship — is selling a cabana package for $3,000. And as the New York Times reported, in 2016 Los Angeles pride was referred to as “gay Coachella” — and this year, Los Angeles Pride organizers got into trouble for over-selling tickets to the festival and had to turn hundreds of paying celebrants away.

That’s not to say pride events have been completely stripped of politics. In fact, due to the Pulse nightclub shooting in 2016 and President Trump’s anti-LGBTQ policies, 2017 was actually considered one of the first years in recent memory where politics became a central message of Pride celebrations across the country. As with the Stonewall riots and the first Pride, the twin threats of violence and oppression toward the LGBTQ community underlined the ongoing necessity of Pride Month as a political act first, a party second.

To grasp the dilemma of the commercialization of pride events, it’s worth examining a very similar case: the “pinkwashing” of Breast Cancer Awareness. The phenomenon of any kind of pink object coming to represent “awareness” of breast cancer created a context where purchasing pink anything and everything allowed people to feel like they were contributing somehow to a cure for the disease.

But the problem with Breast Cancer Awareness, as Jezebel and many others pointed out, is that all this commercialized support was ultimately pretty empty. In 2015, the New York Times explained that for all the awareness, “breast cancer incidence has been nearly flat and there still is no cure for women whose cancer has spread beyond the breast to other organs, like the liver or bones.”

“What do we have to show for the billions spent on pink ribbon products?” asked Karuna Jaggar, the executive director of Breast Cancer Action, an activist group, told the Times. “A lot of us are done with awareness. We want action.”

This is the problem with commodifying “awareness”: While it may serve to raise money for a charitable cause, there’s no guarantee that money will result in any sort of tangible outcome. It’s nominal activism divorced from real action.

The same goes for much of pride merchandise. Companies, including H&M, donate a portion of what their customers spend on pride merchandise to LGBTQ charities. The amount going to charity varies by the company and product: J.Crew donates 50 percent of the purchase price of its pride T-shirts; H&M only donates 10 percent of the sales from its “Pride Out Loud” collection. Nike’s website doesn’t say how much of the proceeds from its Be True campaign the company donates, but it does say that Nike has donated almost $2.7 million since 2012.

So money going to LGBTQ charities is a good thing, right? In the abstract, yes, but taken in aggregate, this consumerist donation structure creates a context of so-called slacktivism, giving brands and consumers alike a low-effort way to support social and political causes.

People wait to watch the Pride in London parade in front of an H&M shop window on July 8, 2017. Jenny Matthews/In Pictures via Getty Images

But the money that companies make selling goods to people looking for an easy, straightforward way to help with a big, complicated issue rarely has tangible results, outside of the profits for the companies selling those goods. Similarly, some companies who are promoting LGBTQ Pride — and ostensibly cashing in on Pride merchandise or retail — aren’t doing much for the LGBTQ community beyond contributing to this vague notion of “awareness” around the issues that affect that community.

Los Angeles Pride selling more tickets than it had space for is just one example. The rainbow-festooned H&M having a manufacturing plant in China, a country with a history of anti-LGBTQ legislation, is another.

Perhaps the most pertinent example is Gilead sponsoring New York City Pride. Gilead is the pharmaceutical company that makes the pill Truvada for PrEP, or pre-exposure prophylaxis, a medication regimen that, when taken daily, can reduce the risk of HIV from sex by over 90 percent. Without insurance, PrEP costs me $2,110.99 per month; with insurance and a coupon card from Gilead, that goes down to zero. The problem is that the communities where PrEP can have the greatest effect aren’t getting the drug, because the people in those communities often cannot afford insurance that covers it.

“While the HIV epidemic has not had a broad impact on the general U.S. population, it has greatly affected the economically disadvantaged in many urban areas,” the CDC wrote in a study of poverty-stricken urban areas.

Further, gay and bisexual black men have a higher HIV rate in the US than in any country in the world. But they’re not the people using PrEP: According to Poz magazine, an estimated 136,000 Americans were using PrEP as of the first quarter of 2017, but a large majority of those users are white men who are 25 and older. Gilead Sciences estimated in 2015 about 75 percent of men who had filled a PrEP prescription were white, while black men only comprised 9 percent of those prescriptions.

Generic versions could change that, but Gilead won’t release its patent. Furthermore, as activists have pointed out, research and funding that went into Gilead were provided by taxpayer money, not money raised for “awareness”:

Imagine a pill that has the ability to reduce #HIV transmission by 99%. And what if you were told that all the funding that went into researching this preventative drug was actually by tax-payer money? #BreakthePatent (1) pic.twitter.com/Q6fbhrCbid

— Jason Rosenberg (@mynameisjro) June 18, 2018

Gilead publicly supports LGBTQ rights at one of the biggest LGBTQ celebrations of the year, but in practice it has not adequately served LGBTQ people who run the highest risk of contracting AIDS, a disease its drug could help prevent.

It’s also important to look at this phenomenon from the consumer perspective. If consumers who want to do more to help the LGBTQ community scrutinize and talk about what companies are doing with that money (e.g. the percentage given to charity versus what’s kept), or those companies’ inconsistent policies, it could help change the way companies — like Gilead — choose to “support” LGBTQ issues. Or consumers could do the work to research and seek out organizations themselves, making their donations directly and bypassing the retail element entirely.

But that raises what’s perhaps the most complex problem with supporting the LGBTQ community: knowing where to lend support. The ideal goal of Breast Cancer Awareness is to find a cure; all that pink stuff is bought with that goal in mind. But the “goal” for LGBTQ community isn’t one central thing, it’s a lot of different things.

The 2017 Gay Pride Parade in New York City, New York. Dennis Van Tine/STAR/AP

Supporting the LGBTQ community is more complicated, since it’s not a monolithic entity, and there are myriad issues that affect different cross-sections of LGBTQ people. LGBTQ youth homelessness is an issue that persists and hasn’t gotten proper attention. Certain LGBTQ people are more at risk for being the victims of hate crimes (fatal violence disproportionately affects transgender women according to the HRC). LGBTQ people also face unique problems in the criminal justice system. And in some cases, the LGBTQ community itself hasn’t figured out how to come together to address and raise awareness for these causes.

And as Vox’s German Lopez pointed out, since the election of Trump and a Republican-dominated Congress, all kinds of anti-LGBTQ — and particularly anti-trans — actions, from trying to ban trans people from the military to rescinding Obama-era memos that protected trans workers and students from discrimination, have been introduced.

Perhaps the most frustrating thing about showing support during Pride is that there really isn’t one cause to support — blurring all these disparate issues under a one-size-fits-all rainbow means some are inevitably going to be overlooked. (See: how same-sex marriage dominated most conversations about LGBTQ rights prior to its passing.)

The commercialization of Pride Month adds another complicating layer to that, further flattening out the complex landscape of LGBTQ issues into an easier-to-support — and therefore easier to sell — concept of “awareness.” No doubt, the visible support from all these brands is welcome, especially in our time of Supreme Court cases over same-sex wedding cakes.

But it’s hard to shake the feeling that this commercialized mass appeal has helped further dampen Pride Month’s fiery political roots, and helped obfuscate the less-pleasant, less-talked-about issues that matter for many people in the LGBTQ community — and will continue to matter long after the rainbow T-shirts, socks, water bottles, and cute retail disappear from store windows.

Pride participants advocate for LGBT homeless youth during the 48th annual LA Pride Parade on June 10, 2018, in West Hollywood, California. David McNew/Getty Images

Original Source -> How LGBTQ Pride Month became a branded holiday 

via The Conservative Brief

[ruthgabyguerrero]

A Graffiti Artist Is Not A Street Artist

Wes opens the 10-gallon plastic storage box to expose it full of MTN 94 spray cans. He grabs the color orange, and sprays lines. Just orange lines. They cross each other, abruptly making a right or a left turn, creating multiple “V” and “L” shapes on the “buffed out” baby blue background in the space he paid for in advance this time around, because, “it’s for a good cause. It’s to keep the event alive.” No one knows except him what he’s doing. Like a kid with a crayon in hand. Except a child’s scribbles are often with vacuous intent. Wes’ lines, however, have a specific motive. You can just tell. 

So the only thing graffiti enthusiasts at Calwa Recreation Park can do, is watch and wait.

Father and husband, Wes Abarca, 40, is quick to correct that he is not a street artist. Nor is he just a “tagger.” He’s a graffiti artist, assuring that “letters” is what differentiates Graffiti from, say, today’s trend of street art comprised of murals or in some cases just patterns on walls.

An act unknown to the graffiti world, Wes today isn’t spraying his writing-name--which also happens to be his first name--and crew. It’s the word “Zeal,” with the shape of the letters hinting at some serious cubism and abstract art. There’s a cartoon-like Captain America replacing the letter “A,” an addition that would only make sense to a trained (graffiti) eye making his piece otherwise completely unreadable. And sealing the piece is a “Wes 77” signature on the bottom right-hand corner, and his wife’s writing-name of “Opia” below his.

“Zeal” isn’t written just because it’s a nice looking word, with it’s sharp edges lending themselves aesthetically. It’s the message defining a contrasting passion that Wes, a tall, medium-built man whose edgy comb-over is dark and beard is white, now lives by. Originally with graffiti or tagging, the goal for enthusiasts has always been to acquire some form or fame, first locally then globally.

“Graffiti is literally the most self-fulfilling, self-centered, egotistical thing a person can do...you put your name on a wall, you want everyone to see it, you want it to look dope, you want everyone to give you props. It’s self-glorification.”

But in 2005 Wes quit exalting himself the way graffiti and tagging is truly all about, and began exalting God and a positive message. Three years later he helped create ISI Crew--standing for Iron Sharpens Iron Crew--a group of Southern California graffiti artists with a passion for spreading the gospel though graffiti.

*

On this breezy Saturday morning Abarca arrives at Calwa Recreation Park in the city of Fresno, California with fellow graffiti artist Adam Hageman, 26. The huge park with its long brick wall on its west side, is the location for the annual Bizare Art Festival honoring the well-known graffiti artist known as “Bizare.” Initially it was an event put together by “Rain,” Bizare’s sister, as a way to honor her brother’s artistic legacy. Artists from all over California would attend, and do their usual unbelievable pieces on the perfect brick wall. Today in its 5th year, though, it’s become somewhat of a networking event as well, where graffiti artists fangirl over other artists they admire but have never met. Piecebooks are getting passed around, plans of visiting each others cities are made, and lots of pictures are being taken on cell phones. It’s become a festival complete with Bboys, MC’s, a few after-parties in the area, and a dinner the day after the event put together by Rain for the artists who participated and their families. Abarca is excited to finally be able to attend this legal form of graffiti where he can not only mingle, but spread a message of hope through graffiti the way he desires to.

*

Wes credits his older brother, ten years his senior, for introducing him to graffiti. He’d spend his summer vacations away from Wes and his immediate family in West Covina, and go to his grandmother's house in the city of Bell where the L.A. River became his backyard and the perfect location to practice graffiti. The 80’s were the breeding ground for Hip-Hop and everything it entailed-- rap, break dancing, DJing and graffiti--things his brother embraced and taught little Wes to do likewise. One afternoon in the garage of his parents house Wes recalls a distinct event that bred his fondness with graffiti. His brother and his friends were breakdancing on a plexiglass sheet big enough to headspin and “kick up.” While tagging and graffing the sheet, one of his brother’s friends handed him a marker.

“Color that in, just like you do your coloring books.”

Wes admits he didn't know what he was doing at the time, but pursued the art and the street fame ever since.

In Middle School with films such as Beat Street, Wild Style, and the graffiti documentary Style Wars serving as heavy inspirations, Wes became more serious with graffiti. He remembers imploring his friends “to come up with names so [they] can go tag,” and assigning names such as “Bane” and “Soot” to one another. This fascination was temporary to his buddies, however, but Wes’ artistic improvement only drew him in all the more.

High School proved to be a more tangible pivotal moment. Not only was he refining his skills, but he did not get to attend the same high school as his junior high friends, which meant he found himself alone, angry, but with more heart.

“I was just upset about it, so much, that I didn't want to make friends. And that’s when I started tagging more.”

This lack of friends, however, also led 14-year-old Wes to friends from the White Fence gang, a violent gang that originated in East Los Angeles in the 1930’s that is still active today. Luckily, these gang members’ did not share with him the same passion for art.

“The dudes I was with were always scrapping...so I was constantly like ‘dude I can’t be hanging around you guys.’ This is dumb, I don’t wanna be a gangster.”

Wes tried to find connection through another love he had, sports. He’d play in his high school Baseball team, but somehow still could not make friends to relate to. And so the loneliness continued.

Sophomore year in 1993 Wes and his family moved to the city of Walnut and he found himself, yet again, attending a school where he knew no one. One day during math class as Wes was writing inside a “Black Book” (or often called a “Piece Book,” which is a hardcover sketch book with blank pages for writers from all types of crews to unite and share “pieces” with each other.), a classmate approached him and asked, “what do you write?” Wes remembers fondly that this was the first time he was ever asked what he wrote, what his writing-name was, and that he hadn't quite chosen one at the time. The boy told him he had a younger brother, a freshmen, that did graffiti too and that they should meet. He was indifferent to his classmates motion, but the boy grew eager day by day to introduce them and eventually invited Wes to his house. Chris, whose writing-name was “Krome,” was the freshmen younger brother. The two brothers lived in a mobile home park where a big brick wall divided the homes and the train tracks. They jumped over the fence to the wall that featured all of Krome’s work, ten giant pieces that astounded Wes. The pieces featured characters, letters of all styles, and a full range of color that encouraged 15-year-old Wes to catch up to the artistic skills of his new friend. Krome and Wes from then on practiced almost everyday after school, in broad daylight, free from anyone’s interruptions.

Wes had finally found a friend. They shared a new inner confidence in their capabilities that caused the three boys--with the addition of an Ontario newbie who went by “4ser”--to worry very little about a large clique and affirmation from the rest of Walnut High. They shared a secret love for this rebellious art form which they continued to master on Krome’s wall, public street walls, and his favorite freeway, the 60. After some time they joined well-developed crews, such as OCP from the city of Ontario, and YNK, a branch from OCP, and attended meetings where hundreds of members met in parks to encourage each other. The number of members, their devotion, and their protection of each other when any form of “beef” arose, continued inspiring Wes who by this time had finally decided on his own writing-name.

“I would go in the dictionary. You see, some writers pick letters that flow well, that they can put together nicely, and they create a name. I was opposite. I wanted a meaning. So I saw the word “Dower” which meant “a natural talent,” and I was like ‘there it is.’ ”

Junior year of high school Wes’ parents decided to send him away with his uncle, an ex-military man who’d spent two tours in Vietnam, to Salt Lake City, Utah in the hopes of straightening out, what they thought, a graffiti-obsessed teen. His grades and a toxic girlfriend he’d acquired at the time didn't help his case either. But interestingly, 17-year-old Wes did not resist. He felt he wanted something new and was stressed with adolescent issues that crews, secrecy, and “beef” only accelerated. Salt Lake City, however, did not decelerate anything. A city where Whites primarily inhabit, Wes being a Mexican-Native American from Los Angeles became a popular dude alongside his cousin of the same age.

He’d discovered the graffiti scene was different than Los Angeles’. There wasn't the same type of violence that accompanied graffiti back in L.A. High-schoolers here dealt with beef through graffitti where the best piece won the rights to the writing-name, as well as a duffle bag full of spray paints. The sense of style, Abarca noticed, seemed to be stuck in the 80’s too, with Run DMC Adidas seen everywhere. And the “Straight Edge” trend, which was a large group of punk rock teens who purposefully abstained from alcohol, tobacco and recreational drugs, surprised Wes.

Generally, he liked Salt Lake City and his love of graffiti did not by any means slow down. In order to fund their writing without asking adults for money, Wes and his cousin began “racking,” meaning, they stole from large, expensive stores in bulk. Racking became a routine practice where they’d wear black hoodies, bring with them all the backpacks they owned, fill them, and walk out. The bedroom closet they shared was overflowing with cans, consuming their clothes, and making their names easily spreadable throughout Salt Lake City since supplies never became a factor.

Wes remembers introducing his cousin and the Straight Edge boys the methods of writing on freeway bridges; a custom they weren't used to doing or seeing. He remembers climbing on moving trains, doing his pieces, then jumping off. And remembers sneaking out of his uncle and aunt's house while they slept at two, three a.m., regularly.

“And then we got in trouble.”

One night when Wes and his cousin were climbing back into their bedroom through their window at 2am, per usual, his aunt was sitting in bed waiting for them. She had seen all the spray cans in their closet, and told Wes’ uncle, who mostly scolded his cousin. That same week the boys went into a local Kmart for a routing racking session, but got caught for the first time via undercover employees. Police officers were called, and Wes was on the next flight, literally, back to Los Angeles.

*

Wes didn't get to graduate high school. Instead, he acquired a GED through an adult-school oozing with troublemakers he didn't feel he belonged with. After high school, however, he didn't stop graffing, which eventually led to an arrest for violation of penal code 594 (prohibits maliciously defacing, damaging, or destroying someone else's property), followed by a DUI, and a fine for carrying spray paint tips, defining the ultimate low of his life.

He went to court and was certain he’d go to prison the way many of his friends, and truly many graffiti writers had gone at a time when the government was its harshest towards graffiti and tagging in the late 90’s. To his surprise the charges were dropped. Instead, he was given house arrest complete with an embarrassing ankle monitor, a few fines, was required to attend DUI and drug & alcohol classes, and was on probation for three years.   

Wes was grateful, relieved, and determined to no longer walk the path that led him to the disappointment he was currently feeling. He describes seeking some form of spirituality afterwards, visiting buddhist temples trying to find some form of inner peace and hope. Finally he was invited to church by a girl he began dating. At church he described feeling a sense of pride, abstaining from openly participating, but feeling at home with everything the pastor said. After a few visits, he gave his life to God privately, not wanting to go to the altar like others were doing, but instead closing his eyes and talking to God on his own, vowing to never practice Graffiti ever again. He began bad-mouthing the art, promoting its corruption, but still somehow craving the markers he would use on Black Books as well as the gratification he felt seeing his dope ass piece complete. One day, laying on his side on top of his bed, he began drawing on a piece of paper with a pen.

“Why did I ever stop doing this?”

*

In 2005 Wes decided to stop running away from what he felt was his calling--to use graffiti as a tool to reach guys (and girls) just like him.

“[There’s] Guys who dont wanna be made fun of, and are putting up a persona, like ‘yeah I’m down, I wanna do something illegal,’ but in reality they’re struggling because they know it’s not right.”

He hadn’t quite figured out the orchestration of this ministry since graffiti was/is relatively viewed as vandalism. Trying to use something tabooed as wrong to uplift a people was something not many in his milieu believed in. But Wes still participated in the creation of ISI Crew in 2008. Popularity regarding their ministry spread, and suddenly the members--made up of guys from Hawthorne, Crestline, Chino, and Guatemala City, among others--found themselves being sought after to display their art live at art walks and art events, at local churches and well-known Christian Universities, for no compensation at first but now almost always for a compensation. Early years proved fairly successful both internally in the self-confidence of the members, and externally with the many gigs emerging. Contrary to Wes and ISI’s initial fears, it seemed conservative believers were accepting graffiti.

Even among the secular graffiti community Wes states that he and ISI began to gain respect.  

“The whole motive behind graffiti is self-glorification and if we’re not doing that, then what are we doing?”

Glorifying something higher is what they began doing.

This acceptance, though, quickly seemed to give birth to accustomation for Wes and ISI  and even amid these events and the Christian community. A new perspective of graffiti widely accepted as “cool” and no longer a rebellious form of art discouraged Wes for a long time, making faith-based events mundane, boring, but most importantly contradictory to the belief of winning the lost.

The way Jesus ate with tax collectors and so-called sinners, Wes wanted in. His method had evolved as he was no longer interested in a cookie-cutter ministry.

“If we’re going to a lot of Christian events...they may or may not need encouragement as much. There’s so many ministries and outlets for people that are believers to be edified and be lifted up...but our work is really, really effective towards other graffiti artists. ”

*

The Bizare Art Festival Wes and Sythe were on their way to, in Wes’s family car, a Subaru Outback, is a representation of this new path. The path he and Sythe are yearning to tap into once again where men in love with graffiti can guide other men in love with graffiti to a relationship with God.

“Our crew was birthed off of street painting. And i'm not talking about illegally. Im talking about when we started doing things legally and for a positive reason. And I wanna go back to the street.”