#my guy is at the chapell tour hearing coffee for the first time and having a fucking anuerism over his situationship with his my

[jane-morgendorffer]

Give me Soap who can’t always be there for his family’s special events and celebrations, but does the best he can anyway. Who sends presents long in advance but always buys more nearer the time anyway. Who always chooses experiences over things because at least then, when something does happen to him, they’ll have something nice to look back on. Who takes his niece to concerts and his mum to the theatre and his dad to museums for things he’s never even heard of. Who could so easily drift away but makes the decision not to.

[malgal7777]

Hiking with Tracy 2021:  Put it on the board...YES!

I did it!!!!   Woo-Hoo!  I walked 100 miles - almost in the whole month of April.  Since the last weekend of April was a bit of a snow bust, I had to finish my 100 miles this past weekend 5/1-5/2!  And what a way to finish...

I was feeling defeated last week when I wasn’t able to complete the 100 miles up in Tahoe.  I ended up being 17 miles short!  Can you believe that?  17 miles!! And I have a friend, let’s just call him “Barry” who was going to give me the whole $1000 if I was able to do it.  So I really felt down knowing I had blown it.  Blown all that training and blown it for the Ride4Reason fundraiser.  But “Barry” said hey, finish it up this weekend and you’re still in the running.  So I went back to the drawing board to find another route that would push me over the finish line.  But it was Bob who suggested I hike San Francisco.  AND, if I hiked SF, he would be encouraged to join me.  Bob’s a city slicker.  If he goes too far from being able to purchase a newspaper out of a metal box, he gets hives.  So, we mapped out a 10-12 mile route (I had to go easy on the guy) starting from the Ferry Building and walking the circumference of the SF peninsula to Ocean Beach.  It was FAN-TAS-TIC!  WOW.  Just WOW. 

We started at Justin Herman Plaza and since it was May Day we were hoping to find a rally or march happening.  And in perfect SF fashion, we were not disappointed!  Sure enough a large rally was gearing up to head down Market.  I’m going to assume the march was for workers rights, but it was actually unclear to us what their message was.  Not a good sign for a march/rally!

This first stretch of The Embarcadero was a bit sad.  Covid and the lockdowns have definitely taken their toll.  I know it was early and a weekend, but a lot of these businesses are still shuttered and closed.  And there’s a couple of homeless encampments taking over the street car kiosks.  The homeless.  Sooner or later I have to go there.  I can spout my love for California all I want, but it’s California’s biggest shame.  It’s no longer a skeleton in the closet, it’s all out in the open for all to see.  And I have no answer for it.  It’s always been here, since I’ve been here.  And it definitely has gotten A LOT worse within the past 10 years.  And it’s not just one issue, it’s the perfect storm of multiple issues coming together:  not enough affordable housing;  not enough livable wages; mental instability; drug addiction; nomad living lifestyle - yes that’s a thing.  I don’t think California is doing nothing.  There’s just too many people.  And you can’t just throw them in jail or put them onto a bus to make someone else’s problem - like other regional areas have done, there has to be some compassion and humanity.  But these encampments are not humane.  They are breeding grounds for disease and despair.  What does that say about you as you walk on by?  Trying to ignore the garbage and filth these people are living amongst.  But I have no answer.  I don’t even know where to begin to help these people.  So for the time being, I’m going to continue to stick my head in the sand and hope that California will rise to the challenge and find some solution, sooner rather than later. 

The Embarcadero curves around and leads you to the touristy part of the city...Fisherman’s Wharf.  I personally hate this part of town.  It’s just too much:  too many people; too many lame chain restaurants;  too many cheesy chotchkie stores.  My parents on the other hand love it.  When they come to town all they want to do is come to Pier 39 and Alcatraz.  My dad would live on Alcatraz if he could.  One of these days I just may lock him in one of the cells.  Today though, things were different.  I loved seeing that Alcatraz tours are once again up & running.  AND not a lot of people yet...wink wink wink...for those of you who've tried to go but weren’t able to get a reservation.  It was early, so the area was just coming alive. The street vendors setting up their wares or street performers getting into character. Then there’s the abundance of colors of all the flashy stores and restaurants.  The sounds of the sea lions barking at the tourists watching them.  The marina with the famous “Rocket Boat!”  I was digging it.  Fisherman’s Wharf also has some great views of Alcatraz and the Golden Gate Bridge.  It wasn’t so horrible.  Bob showed me Scoma’s restaurant, a tiny seafood restaurant that’s been here for years and is supposed to be pretty darn good.  There’s even a chapel for the local fishermen.  Then of course there’s Musee Mecanique.  A museum of antique slot machines, animations, coin operated pianos and the like.  It’s pretty cool and I believe most of the games are still functioning, so you can play.  Unfortunately it is also closed because of the pandemic.  You can donate to help keep it open though.  Just go to https://museemecanique.com.  

Then we hit Aquatic Park. An interesting cove at the West end of Fisherman’s Wharf.  This is where crazy people swim in the freezing waters of the bay, most without wet suits.  On this cold, windy morning we found a group of children being taught how to acclimate their bodies to the water so they can grow up to be crazy people.  Horrible way to spend a Saturday if you ask me!  

We continued to go around Aquatic Park and up and around to Fort Mason. There’s a great trail that we’ve never taken that gives you an even better view of the GG bridge and Fort Mason below.  And once you get on the other side, you’re in local land of OZ!  Where the curtain is pulled back and the locals are enjoying the real SF.  Now for those tourists who spend their whole time at Fisherman’s Wharf and The Embarcadero, more power to you.  Just don’t say you’ve been to San Francisco.  Because you haven’t.  Once you get over the hump, one of my favorite scenes of SF...the buildings.  Squat, square homes of multiple pastel colors rolling like waves along the hills of San Francisco.  In other areas of the city, the hills are rolling with colorful victorians.  The colors are what I love best about San Francisco.  

It was here that I realized I was hiking with Cher.  We had to make yet another stop so Bob could make a wardrobe change.  It’s also kind of a production with him narrating what he’s doing.  I got to hear all about the ins and outs of why he rolls his flannel rather than fold.  Why he’ll wait to take off the thermal leggings.   Where to put his first UO sticker. Yada, Yada, Yada.  Good thing he’s pretty cute.  As he was changing, we noticed a statue of an older man in a suit but no plaque telling visitors who he is.  I thought he looked like Rodney Dangerfield.  But why would anyone put up a statue of Rodney Dangerfield in SF?  That would be the ultimate “no respect” though, a statue but no plaque.  Ends up it’s a guy named Phil Burton.  He was a US Congressman from California who is responsible for 87,000 acres of the SF Bay Area being designated as a National Park. I was basically ending my hike in a National Park thanks to this man.  He deserves a plaque god damnit!

So once you pass Fort Mason, you are now in the Marina district.  It’s where Cal Berkeley students go after they graduate. They mutate here on the hollowed grounds of Crissy Field.  Like yuppy gremlins. Working out or drinking Philz Coffee.  The homes along Crissy Field are gorgeous. Huge picture windows with a front row seat to the Golden Gate Bridge.  Each one is architecturally different and once again, the colors!  Beautiful. The only downside was the wind.  It was pretty darn windy along this stretch.  But Bob had his windbreaker and I had my knit cap.  I can endure the wind if I have my ears covered. 

It’s a long stretch from Crissy Field to the Presidio.  The old barracks of the Presidio on one side and the entrance of the Bay on the other.  The GG Bridge is the main attraction here.  It’s majestic. Great time to get over there.  Parking was plenty and not a bad way to have a picnic. There’s a climbing gym, a trampoline park and under the bridge is Fort Point.  I have been here before, took my parents.  I was able to slyly divert their attention from the bells and whistles of Fisherman’s Wharf with the chance to view history!  They are suckers for historical buildings.  And Fort Point is a National Historical Site.  It was built during the Civil War in 1861.  It’s been awhile so I don’t remember too many of the details, but definitely worth a visit.  

Now we began our assent to the Jewel of this hike...The Golden Gate Bridge.  It’s a National Icon and San Francisco’s mascot.  As you climb the hill and get closer to the bridge there are a bunch of tunnels and “hide outs” along the way.  Remnants of the military presence that once dominated San Francisco.  But the absolutely coolest thing about this hike was I had NO IDEA you can actually walk underneath the bridge itself...like right below the huge steel red frame!!  It’s literally a wind tunnel, so hold onto your hat!  But super duper cool!!  If you have any engineers or construction people in your circle, this would be a great spot to bring them.  

As you continue around the bend, you come to Baker’s Beach.  Not sure if it’s still a nude beach, but it used to be.  The unfortunate thing about nude beaches is the people who SHOULDN’T be nude are the first ones to get into their birthday suit. But that’s my problem, not theirs!  Some nice trails along this stretch, but nothing too exciting to report.

We soon came upon the neighborhood Sea Cliff.  Now this is where the really rich people live.  Like Robin Williams had a home here;  Nancy Pelosi I think lives here.  Mansions with a view of the Pacific.  Bob & I had to walk through right?  I am happy to report the other half live very well.  I stopped to smell the roses (literally) but I noticed that all the gardens actually smelled horrible.  The fertilizer was strong here.  Bob & I laughed that that was how they kept the riff-raff away, by surrounding their homes with a shit moat.  Worked for us!  We high tailed it out of there.  

Now we came to our last stretch...Land’s End.  A labyrinth of trails along the coastal edge.  We needed to stop for another wardrobe change.  This time his leggings were going back on.  Which meant he needed to get down to his underwear.  Let’s just say a whole group of people got a little more than they were expecting that day!

Finally we made it to Sutro Baths and the Cliff House!  Fantastic!  Unfortunately the Cliff House closed due to the pandemic and is not reopening.  I cannot imagine this space will be closed for long.  Fingers crossed.  We decided to head down to Ocean Beach and end our hike by having lunch at the Park Chalet.  We were both famished and Bob was getting cranky.  Needed to feed him STAT.  I have more to report here but Bob might get mad at me, so if you see him again, just ask him about our new friend Franklin!  

BTW, Sunday I did my final 4-5 miles back at my MacArthur Trail.  I brought Stella this time and she loved it.  It was as fabulous as ever!

I’m still going to hike y’all and write about it.  So check in to see where I go next.  I enjoyed writing my thoughts and feelings down.  Even if nobody reads it, it’s my journal to this wonderful life I’ve been blessed with.  Why not tell the world!

Thank You to all who have donated to the Ride4Reason fundraiser and have endured reading these ramblings.  But, That’s All Folks!  (for now).  xoxox

[familyvisionis2020]

Day 6 - The Drive Home

Today was the last day of tour. I wake up in the morning feeling guilty because I have a groggy memory of waking up around 8 to go to the bathroom, Paul was waiting to go, but when the person came out I just fronted him (a word I just now remember from elementary school, cut in line, but southern), used the bathroom and went back to bed. Rude. I am wiping the cold from my eye, taking in the undecorated walls of the apartment, and Jeremy comes from down the hall and says ‘Did you get the memo? Louisville cancelled. Tour’s over.” I said ‘fuck’ and processed it. I feel sad for Jeremy and John and Kabir because I know they wanted to play this last show in Kentucky. It’s not that I didn’t, but also for the last three months and for especially the last month I have been feeling a tremendous amount of anxiety about this tour, about feeling out-of-control, about being away from loved ones at home, about being available to show up for people in my life, about completing regular routines of hygiene and spirituality and task completion that make me feel boring and comfortable, both. Touring stirs up dredges of the tea leaves that I had let settle into a fine filmy sediment at the bottom of me. I manufactured a jello mold two years ago and poured myself into it: regular 9-5 in the legal field as a means and precursor to law school, then diligent study for 3 years, then a professional career, abandoning the party life, abandoning trespassing in abandoned buildings, abondoning the luxury of resentment and unproductive time, trying to cool and firm into something reliable, serviceable, dependable, available, a resource people could draw from for once, rather than a leech or slug. And when I go on tour I take that jello mold out of the fridge and it holds its shape but also it warms and the longer I’m out the more liquidy it gets and sloshes over the sides and so forth. So I’m ambivalent because I like what I have to offer to this band, I like the physical process of drumming and expressing myself in the context of music and being a member of a band, but also I feel like I’ve kind of chilled enough and it’s time to settle down. And I’m at a way different point in my life than the other guys in the band it seems like, for the most part. So anyways all this to contextualize the fact that the news of tour ending even earlier than early honestly makes me feel relieved, if not happy, and so then I work to temper that boosted mood for the sake of grim decorum befitting a tour taken before its time. 

All our stuff is locked in the venue from last night and we learn we won’t be able to pick it up until 1pm and so we have about 4 hours to kill in the apartment. Phillip puts on a pot of coffee that will turn out to be some of the wateriest on record, but still, a super kind gesture, and then he also puts on The Wire on HBO Go and we just settle in on the couch and watch for awhile. Some of the scenes are familiar, there’s something seductive about this show, and it brings me back to the precise moment of Summer of 2013 right before I moved to Philadelphia right after I got evicted from the squat/music venue I had been living in that winter and spring, I watched all episodes of The Wire on DVD on Matt Martin’s couch at 3 Pomroy and felt deeply depressed. It ranks up there with when I watched all released episodes of The Office in bed in the winter of 2009 after my girlfriend broke up with me, in terms of memorably devestating life phases offset by the amniotic fluid of full-series of TV. So we watch The Wire and I find myself not too inclined to sit and watch and I want to write so I sit at my laptop on the table nearby and write an email to a female (sorry) but I actually do and its purpose is to make her smile and bring some levity and play and purple prose to a moment in her life that, from how she tells it to me, is just so heavy, nightmares and waking horror and a future that feels like it hangs by a thread. so I’m glad to spend time showing up for her in this small way rather than watching The Wire, and also I write yesterday’s blog post, another activity that feels sort of like a pittance but also like: doing-writing is something I have been putting off, in phases and seasons, for my entire adult life, because to me nothing ever matters enough to write about, or if it does my perspective is deficient, or my research inadequate, or my skill incommensurate with the subject matter, or it won’t properly reflect my feelings, or any number of self-sabotaging excuses to not do this thing I so love doing, and love sharing. So for me, writing this blog is a very meaningful and special act of reclamation of a personal mode of expression that constitutes a break in my winter’s depression and what feels like a new phase of happiness, of believing-i-have-a-future, of feeling more authoratative and qualified to know and describe my own experience in a lifetime marred and dampened by dissociation, oblivion, amnesia, and fugue. So it feels like nourishment to get some paragraphs done and to move slow through my days, get them onto the page.

The Wire grows tiresome at some point and Jeremy fires up the PS4 and then the PS3 looking for games but none are multiplayer and so eventually he settles on Skyrim and starts from a new file. Me personally I love watching let’s plays and this is as good as TV. There was a moment last tour when we were in this strange small town in Connecticut called Torrington (the town all touring bands are required to go to, we also joked), in this town Jeremy was describing the sort of surrealness he experienced there and he said he felt like the townspeople in Torrington were like NPCs in a FPS RPG like Skyrim wherein you would go up to people and press A to talk, say ‘What news?” and that I thought was really funny then, I like his sense of humor. Really Kabir and Jeremy and Royal represent this sort of humor that is to me equal parts razor wit, cleverness, timing, accents, absurdity, and broad conceptual placticity, all for the most part very clean too, never or at least rarely blue (you’re gonna inevitably make a D’s nuts joke and that’s just that). And during happy times I am so grateful to be nearby this humor and during less happy times I get self conscious about how great their humor is and how I sometimes feel like I don’t measure up. But that feeling doesn’t weigh for long. Skyrim is fun to watch, it kills some time, we all take turns trying to kill wolves with swords before Jeremy finally does it, there’s a dragon, we loot corpses, discuss Bloodborne and Dark Souls and comparable games. A lot of the main media activity in this group is discussing how a given media relates to another media, Kabir and Jeremy and John know it seems like everything between the three of them when it comes to record labels, band narratives, artist’s hometowns, etc. So we play Skyrim for awhile, and then eventually it’s time to go to the venue and we drive back to The Salty Nut, load in all our gear, do a final sweep, and say our goodbyes and thankyous to Phillip. We return to the Bandido place one last time for one last round of free local Taco Bell which we absolutely scarf and are very vocally grateful to the people for giving it to us for free again, it’s clear they really put effort into being hospitable to touring bands here, at least through Phillip. His band, Thomas Function, was signed on Fat Possum Records, which also had bigger indie acts like Jay Reatard (who Phillip tells a story about him demanding $50,000 in cash for a show fee to feed his coke and heroin habit, Reatard died at age 29 from cocaine toxicity with alcohol also), The Black Keys, Andrew Bird, Wavves and Soccer Mommy, but which Kabir postulates has most of its success due to having signed octogenarian southern blues legends like R.L. Burnside and King Ernest and raking in royalties from what Kabir speculates is due to poor management of the estates of these dead leagends who each had more than a dozen children. It’s truly fascinating for me to hear how deep and complex the analysis of music these guys have is. When I feel insecure, which is often, I tend to veneer these sorts of expertises and shibboleths among music-heads as snobby, elitist, exclusionary, petty and asinine. But I think most of that comes from a fear that I lack the insight, cognitive absorbency, and passionate research skills to collate and catalog data about artists in the way these people do, the way my bandmates do. I feel inspired to take time to dig deeper into the musicans I love, to make them real to me, to get a sense of their story, their lived experience, for the sake of corroding the mediation between us somewhat, or at least polishing the media membrane. 

I volunteer to drive for the first half of what will end up being about a 10-hour drive back from Huntsville to Chapel Hill. We go to a Whole Foods in Huntsville upon Kabir’s insistence where I purchase a nootropic snakeoil energy affair in beverage form, Kabir gets hot coffee and a La Colombe Draft can of latte, Jeremy gets a kombucha made from yerba mate (“best of both worlds” he says), John black coffee as per, and Kabir also buys a slice of Tres Leches cake in a clear plastic to-go clamshell: “they can take away my tour, but they can’t take away my tres leches.” Later he’s eating it in the van and he accidentally spills some on himself and he says “shit…spilled some on myself. oh good, it was only one leche” which to me is so funny and perfect humor and just like kind of a paragon of the kind of joke I so treasure from this friend group. Another is when Jeremy and Kabir are recalling a favorite running joke from two tours ago, wherein they were in Philly, home to the famous Schuykill River (pronounced skoo-kill, at least when i lived there, at least around the non-indigenous people i knew), and while there they would affect this blaring Brooklyn accent, deployed heavily on this trip as well for basically any purpose, but back then they would say “UGH MY SKOYKL IS KILLING ME” like Schuykill was lombago or sciatica and also would say “YEAH LET ME GET A KWATA POUND OF SKOYKL ON RYE” like it was a deli meat, and they laughed and laughed. Also they liked doing rhyming jokes like last night there was a chair nearby the combo amp Tired Frontier was going to use for their set and Kabir goes ‘amp on the chair, tone everywhere’ and then I say ‘amp on the ground, makes a bad sound’ and then I tell Jeremy later how Kabir would put me in good spirits whenever I was describing to someone how my LSAT score is very competitive but my checkered past makes the acceptance process a little less than straightforward, and Kabir would see I was getting kinda down and anxious, and he would say ‘You gotta break the law before you make the law,’ and we all laugh and I love that, the function of humor as balm, salve. I want to wield my humor like that.

The drive back is fine, some sprinkles, nothing major, clear traffic for the most part, I feel like I have a good command of the van, keep it around 75 for most of the trip, feel smoth and confident switching lanes, passing, etc. We do another two NYT Wednesday classic crosswords together, Kabir is getting probably 40% of the clues, me maybe 30% Jeremy and John the other 30%, Kabir will just to YEAHHHHHHHH after getting a clue and I start doing that too after Jeremy says “X down, ‘on the table’ 15 letters,” and I say UPFORDISCUSSION after only a couple seconds and it fits and is correct and I feel like a damn genius and we’re all laughing and kind of praising each other half-jokingly for being strong beautiful geniuses who also we know songs. This is a great passtime and the drive flies by and before I know it we’re in Western NC just outside of Asheville and we make a stop to refuel the tank and get dinner. We decide on a Waffle House across the street, not wanting to venture too deep into Asheville for something healthier and better because of the time and money it would likely eat up, Kabir says that FEMA uses the closing of Waffle Houses as a bellweather to indicate the severity of a given natural disaster. We go inside, the waitress says ‘ya’ll aren’t from around here are you?’ in a way that I take to be hostile and I suggest that to the guys and they seem like maybe slightly offput but not very much and we decide not to abort and I later feel foolish because I think I am doing this thing where I become excessively vigilant or sensitive to a perceived slight to a friend who is brown for the putative purpose of interceding on their behalf against racism but what’s actually happening is if someone was racist to them they could just stand up for themselves and make their own call regarding their own comfort or lack thereof and I would do better to act less motivated by white guilt when avoidable. That passes, it’s fine, we eat hash browns and waffles and eggs and grits and toast and cover everything in tobasco and tip well and get back on the road, John takes over for the final stretch. 

I return a call from Marty and catch him up about tour being cancelled and we discuss our fears and hysteria and cancellations and reaction and so forth. Marty remarks that he is a gravedigger during the plague, which is the best possible job to have. It’s not a joke because he actually drives a backhoe working for a cemetary and digs actual graves, super weird and eminently punk/goth and kind of a curiosity but really perfect for the lead singer of one of the South’s premiere punk bands, especially after his being fired from the swish cafe he worked at in Richmond before that. I love Marty and catching up and it feels good to hear his voice. After I get off the phone it sort of becomes campfire spooky story time in the van with everyone proffering their take on the panic, market failure, the likelihood of Capitalism as a superstructure to require perpetual growth even at the peril or death of its working class, the superior response to covid that South Korea and Norway seem to have mounted, a lot of fear of financial insecurity. Eventually this digresses to talk of touring, and the guys discuss all manner of various routes throught the South, Midwest, Northeast, plains states, PNW, Mexico City, Jeremy says ‘I can get us a show in Colombia’ which he can, Argentina or Venezuela through a mutual friend, then Europe so long as the label foots the bill for the plane ticket, then Japan, setting up camp on Honshu would make it easy to hit TOkyo, Kyoto, Osaka and Nagoya no problem, except where exactly are people playing shows? there’s gotta be somewhere all these Japanese Noise and Hardcore bands are getting gigs, and then from there of course it’s not hard to get to Australia, John knows a band there, and they go all around the world and this is stressing me out a little bit, only because I wonder about how much they think I would be involved or want to go on such a theoretical tour, and the answer is I don’t 100% know. Part of me wants to say this is my last tour, lean all the way in to law school and leave behind this chapter. Part of me feels like it’s better not to make a hard and fast statement like that because what if the economy collapses and for some reason school is a no-go but being in the band becomes the most plausible source of income or something. I get anxious and psych myself out and quiet down and feel foolish and wish to be home. I fantasize about my future life of stability, but I second guess myself because I just don’t know for sure how my life will be, and want to be careful to work toward the goals I think will be the most fulfilling, self-actualizing, spiritually nourishing, healthy for me; I also want to not forsake the friendships and bonds I’ve forged in these weird intimate moments in the van with the guys. I have the wherewithal to know that nobody is requiring me to make a decision right this second, and that as time passes it’s likely that the best course of action will be revealed one way or another if I can keep from panicking. So I watch videos of the 2019 Classic Tetris World Championships on my phone, eat two candy bars, watch videos of a streamer named Wumbotize play the latest Tetris game, Tetris Effect (2018, PS4, PC), and am pleasantly awed by how crazily far the skill curve of that game has shot up. I have some time ahead of me that is completely free, which is so nice. Before I know it I’m back home in my clean apartment which is tidy like a tetris field at the beginning of a new game and I get into my bed and lay down flat and if my bed is the well than the line of me clears and the well is clean, smooth, primed, for whatever falls tomorrow. 

[chrysaliseuro2019]

A Bit Fishy

We headed off from Limeni village bound for Porto Kagio about 45 kms away with a few planned detours along route. Glorious day of course and the first stop was the Diros Caves only about 10 km away. Perfect set up with beach nearby which Liz headed for and I went to the caves given her dislike of all things subterranean. The caves were inhabited until 4 BC when an earthquake drove the inhabitants out. You do the tours by boat through very narrow passages with a guide (they only speak Greek apart rom rudimentary instructions like "sit there". The caves are about 14 kms long and continue still to be explored underwater as presumably they may actually be longer. I was fortuitous with my little boatload of tourists, were 7 of us + the Greek guide, because 3 Americans on there had either a friend (or their own guide) who spoke Greek and English and so translated what the boatmen was saying. It was interesting with lots of stalagmites and stalactites, different colours due to the pigmentation eg iron seeping through, very low ceilings where you had to duck even sitting down in the boat. Also larger spaces where the strands might be very thick or wafery thin. Growth rate of the stalagmites is typically 1 cm every 100 years and the caves are said to be hundreds of thousands of years old. The boat trip was about 20 minutes and then we walked the last 300 metres out of the caves. It was good to sea though probably now getting a bit "caved out" as have seen similar now a few times. English speaking guide might have helped more. I found Liz very happily stretched out on a beach bed having just been for a lengthy dip. We headed off down the West Coast of an area know as Mani. It's barren and dotted around everywhere are stone towers erected as family fortresses from the 17th century through to the 19 century. These were used as protection in family feuds over land. Today some have been turned into luxury hotels. Others are intact but not used and others crumbling. We went through a number of villages featuring old stonework, family chapels and often a tower or two and also sidetracked to a very attractive beach. Arriving at Gerolimenas it was time for lunch. We parked up, coincidentally adjacent to a luxury hotel. Very flash, people sunning themselves by a pool and the sea. Smart looking restaurant but we were looking for something more basic and earthy (and cheaper). Shade was scant and we walked the 150 metres or so into town feeling v warm. Found just the right place with that classic local Greek look, a table right by the water and ordered fried squid. Pretty good and just a chilling place to sit and contemplate. We aren't big eaters so the large entree size squid plus a salad washed down with some crusty bread does the job for us at lunch. We did though complement it with a couple of magnums. The Greeks have this immense chocolate cone like affair magnum. It's similar to a cornetto but with a sort of additional pyramid of chocolate ice cream at the top. Sensational and pretty filling. Why can't we get this in Oz? Back off again towards Porto Kagio this time heading via Vathia which is another old village with a cluster of tower houses perched on a little hill. One was occupied but the rest were pretty derelict and you could wander in and out of them which allowed you to see the layout. Some old but derelict kitchens and toilet facilities suggested they had been inhabited post the warring days of the various clans. Though we could hear voices this was an unattended site apart from the residents so we just looked around for 20 minutes or so and again thankfully got back into the car and enjoyed the aircon. Finally around 4.00ish we got into Porto Kagio. The town is set on a horseshoe bay and is favoured by the international yachting set apparently and certainly there were a few yachts in town. In truth though this was more working man's location than up-market, apart from the setting. A couple of basic tavernas and straightfwd accommodation. Talking of which we needed to find somewhere to stay. Liz had seen a couple of things on booking.com and Lonely Planet had a few pointers. We split up with Liz heading to check out one, possibly two places and me a third. Mine was easily accomplished - no rooms available though they pointed me towards where to go (which were the two Liz was looking at). We split up again - I took one, Liz the other. Again I was fastest mainly because the guy in my hotel arrived first to give me a look at the rooms. I was not enthralled, a little too stony and basic really for my liking though wouldn't be a problem staying there if necessarY. I headed back to Liz (we are talking 50 metres) and there were two rooms on display with two French ladies also looking at them alongside us. Luckily we jumped in first and got the better room. The second one was poky with the sort of stairs up to the bedroom that Aussies would swing down to get to their roof cavity. In! and we dumped our stuff and headed to the beach. Another 50 metres. The lady from the local taverna flogged us a beer and an iced coffee and we sat there very happily with a dip or two in the sea for a couple of hours. Wonderful and pretty location. That night we had dinner a further 20 metres down outside that same taverna at a table on the pebbled beach with the sea half a metre away. Black Snapper cooked to perfection. Rose wine was less perfect. We ordered a half bottle of the open (cask) wine. Think it had been open for a number of years. It remained largely in the bottle, still you don't get much for 5 euros. Wonderful tranquil night, the experiences keep coming and we continue to pinch ourselves.

[tonguetiedmag]

interview: Milkk

After making their way through a blizzard to play a house show with a last minute venue change, indie 3-piece Milkk sat down to chat with me about upcoming music, celebrity crushes, and the time lead vocalist Pat Kiloran was convinced to dye his hair yellow after a show. From the non-stop teasing between the trio to their effortless ability to finish each other’s sentences, the men of Milkk clearly share a light-hearted and special bond that only adds to their likeability.

Let’s kick things off with some fun. If you could have any celebrity star in your next music video, who would you choose?

Kiloran: “I love Ellie Goulding, she’s my secret crush. But.. on the other spectrum, I have my man crush on Jake Gyllenhaal, naturally. So let’s bring Jake in...and I don’t know what he’s doing in the video, but just looking great, being Jake. “

I love that! Strawberry milk, chocolate milk, or white milk?

John Ogelby(Percussion): “Chocolate.”

Kiloran: “Chocolate’s like a treat, I guess on a day to day [basis] I’m more almond milk. In my coffee I like to put oat milk or coconut milk.”

Jack Vondrachek (Guitar): “Strawberry.”

Kiloran: “Why?!”

Ogelby: “Comes out of nowhere, I love it! Right when you think you know him...”

What’s your favorite place to eat, on the road specifically? A roadside restaurant, if you will.

Ogelby: “Consistent, Chick-Fil-A.”

Kiloran: “Chick-Fil-A and Chipotle, probably.”And on Sundays its Chipotle, right?

Ogelby: “On Sundays we break into Chick-Fil-A. I love.. I think it’s called ‘Pok Pok’ in Portland?”

What kind of food?

Ogelby: “It’s like vietnamese fusion, but they have these wings that are just.. I don’t know what the secret is, but its amazing. The spices and seasoning, it’s like nothing I’ve ever had -- I don’t even like wings, but I love these.”

Kiloran: “There’s this tamale place in Indianapolis that I’ve been several times that I love.. There’s this deli in New York called ‘Katz deli’ that’s famous, but it lives up to the hype. It’s like twenty dollars for a sandwich, but it’s so worth it. There’s a place in Ft.Worth, Texas called ‘Joe T. Garcia’s’, it's this big patio mexican place and there’s like two things on the menu. You can just pay and they bring it to you, and it’s just a good vibe.”

Ogelby: “I feel like there’s a lot of places we’ve all hit up separately, but because this is only our second tour, we’re figuring it out. We’re pretty much on the same page though as far as food goes..”

Kiloran: “I don’t think anyone’s too picky. Obviously sometimes if we’re driving quick we have to get fast food, but we try to keep it relatively healthy-ish.”

2018’s almost over-- what have been your favorite album releases this year?

Kiloran: “I liked Lany’s new album, its good.”

Vondrachek: “I liked new Kanye. It was weird but, I liked that.”

Kiloran: “I love the Fickle Friends album. I know they’re a little smaller but it’s super good.”

What have you guys been listening to on drives lately?

Kiloran: “Senses Fail, Underoath, all the old crap that we grew up on. Hawthorne Heights, Silverstein, Chapel. We listened to One Direction today. We did a couple, mostly off of “Four”. We did ‘Steal My Girl’, ‘Where Do Broken Hearts Go’, ‘Stockholm Syndrome’, we did ‘Drag Me Down’.”

If you could set up your ideal tour, what bands would you want to tour with?

Kiloran: “That's a hard question because I think there are a few different ways to answer that. I think there’s ‘What would the DREAM tour be?’, and I think at the end of the day for me, the dream tour is, getting to the point where we’re the headliner and just doing headline tours. Obviously, I think a lot of people want that. But, if we were opening for someone, on the dream tour level... the last several years I got into bands in the more indie pop world -- some of the staples, like The 1975 or Lany, I just genuinely like those bands. Even though they’re so popular, I like them. Those are some I would enjoy as far as that, but then there’s the other level of next year, just on a realistic rise, ‘Who would we tour with?’ ...It would be really cool to do some co-headliner smaller support stuff with.. we’ve been talking to Chapel a lot and I’m hoping we can work something out with them, because I know we’re both interested in that. It’s kind of a hard question -- I think as long as..it’s artists that are similar in vibe to what we’re doing, and that make sense as a tour, and that are just doing something that’s cool...I think that’s what matters as far as touring with someone. We’re just kinda trying to do our own thing, and so if someone else is doing their own thing and it’s cool, and it fits together, then I feel like its a good tour.”

Ogelby: “It’s always awesome, too, when personalities just work out, ‘cause it just sucks touring with people that you don’t get along with.”

Kiloran: “We’re doing some on the west coast coming up, but we’ve done a handful of dates this year with that band The Stolen, its co-headline stuff, and they’re really nice guys. Musically they’re a little more rock than us, but it’s similar enough that it works and the hangs are good. So really, those are the things you look for.”

I know you guys haven’t toured much, but have you had anything particularly odd or funny happen to you while traveling?

Kiloran: “We did a show in upstate New York.. out in the mountains, and me and Jack ended up staying up til like 2am, and that’s when the yellow hair happened. Someone dyed my hair yellow and we just hung out by a fire pit and chilled. It was super cold, I was half asleep and had zero brain cells left -- it wasn’t odd or weird, it was just a non-traditional tour experience, because I feel like house shows, in general, are not as common in our genre. We just got to hang out with the people who came there to see us which was really fun and cool, and then it ended up..dying my hair outside and getting sprayed with a hose trying to wash it off, and getting bleach all over my pants and shoes...it was just a funny experience.”

Ogelby: “I thought of something. We played in Philly at this arts center, and it was a good point in the tour where we were hanging out with The Stolen a lot and it was good, it was friends. So we’re loading in and setting up, and the sound guy introduces himself..he’s pretty nice, but all of a sudden --

Kiloran: “--you could tell he was a little bit of an anarchist punk type.”

Ogelby: “--and I’m like ‘I don’t care, that’s awesome!’, but then he starts playing this music....I listen to a lot of music, but this was creepy, gutter-like--”

Kiloran:”--it was just like... weird groaning.”

Ogelby: “And it’s LOUD. It’s not ‘Oh, I’ll just play this in the background’. We were setting up and there were people there to help with merch and take photos, and other people outside of our band, and we’re looking at each other like, ‘How do we ask him if we can somehow play our own stuff?’ We literally had to do it right before doors opened because we were afraid people were going to get freaked out and leave.”

Kiloran:”It was in a mausoleum, so it was even weirder. That was pretty bizarre.”

On to more music related things, the phrase “welcome to my headrush” has been pretty prominent on your socials, and it flashed at the end of the “Thinkin’ Bout U” music video. Can you tell me more about the significance of that, or what it means?

Kiloran: “I guess all I can say for now is that you’ll ..see. Because it’s all part of the plan, it’s just a piece of the puzzle...We’re working on leading up to our first album so everything’s kind of coming to a head with that stuff.”

Should people be expecting another EP next or a full-length album?

Kiloran: “Full length.”

Very exciting!

Kiloran: “They can probably be expecting a couple songs from that album first.”

Do we know when we might be expecting new music?

Kiloran: “Some very soon, and some soon enough. The album won’t be till next year, that’s all I can say.”

Right --I’d be impressed if it was this year, considering it’s almost over.

Kiloran: “Plus music dies after Thanksgiving. No one in the industry answers their phones, it’s just done.”

Vondrachek: “Unless we do a holiday record..”

Kiloran: “Yeah, let’s do a Christmas album!”

Ogelby: “Cookies and Milkk.”

What would you say is different about playing house shows? (vs clubs)

Kiloran: ”I enjoy it, it’s a totally different thing. It’s not really the way you would necessarily expect to hear our music. I think what’s cool about it is it allows the songs to be played in their raw form because a lot of our songs have a lot of production, and stuff going on. I don’t think we’ll do much more of that [house shows], it’s just for this first year to get us from point A to point B. The thing I do like about it is that it does allow us the opportunity to connect with people on a little more laid back level -- there’s no venue, no other bands playing, no security, it’s just really laid back. We’ve had some that are small like this one where there are 10 people, and we’ve had somewhere 30 people show up to it, and it’s just fun in that way; it allows a more personal connection. If it’s just us, it’s most often people who came specifically because they like our songs. When you go play a club.. on a tour with someone else, some people are there for you, some people are there for them, and you never know what’s going to happen — if they’re going to dig what you’re doing or not --, but doing a show where it’s just a couple dozen people and they’re there for you, then we know they’re gonna be stoked on it, and it gets you into it, and then you can spend time with them after and hang out. It’s a good connecting point on both ends, I think.”

What’s it been like playing new markets?

Kiloran: ”It’s always nerve-wracking because you literally never know. We had played Chicago before and we did one of these house shows there, and we saw people come back, so that’s always cool. Sometimes you go in thinking, ‘This is gonna suck, I don’t know who’s gonna show up’. Then there’s a full room and you’re like ‘Oh, sweet!’. Other times you literally have no idea, and there are 10 people.. and you’re like, ‘Cool!’-- It’s just part of it. It’s definitely a little scary, but it seems like there’s been at least a handful of people everywhere, so as long as there’s that it’s like, ‘Ok cool. We’re here.’”

You guys aren’t all from the same place--what’s it been like for you guys’ creative-process wise, being separate but together?

Ogelby: “The internet. Lots of emails back and forth.”

Has it created any difficult obstacles for you?

Kiloran: “Jack and I are producers by trade, so we do what we need to do and send the files back and forth.”

Vondrachek: “It is definitely ideal to be together, though”.

How do you guys all know each other?

Kiloran: “Me and Jack grew up together..we’ve known each other since junior high in Minnesota. Then I moved around a bunch and met John just playing gigs in Nashville the past couple years. When I asked Jack to start this project with me, it was just going to be a duo thing-- but then John and I were on a gig together one time, back when I was doing solo stuff before Milkk ....and it just kind of organically fell together.”

What do you want fans to know about your music?

Kiloran:“I would say I’m probably the principle writer, especially as far as lyrics go...It started as a fun project, just writing songs that sounded cool, and as we’ve went it’s gotten more personal, and the stuff on the album is definitely very much more just straight from my own perspective.”

Ogelby:”Except for the one you wrote about the girl I dated but named it after—“

Kiloran:”-after a different girl?” *laughter* “Yeah okay, so there’s some mutual perspective, that’s fair. I think at the end of the day, as long as someone can connect with it and relate with it and it gives them some sort of feeling, I don’t really care what feeling that is, cause I think that’s the point. I think good music or art just evokes something. So when people are like ‘I HATE this band’, or ‘I hate that band!’, I’m like, ‘Well, sounds like they’re doing something right, they made you feel something.’ When people have told us that we suck, I’m like, ‘Cool1 It evoked something that stirred up a reaction in you.’ It’s better than hearing ‘Yeah, it’s fine.’ I love hearing ‘You suck’, or ‘You’re awesome’.

How has future music evolved from previous releases? What can people look forward to?

Kiloran: “I think it’s getting more and more unique; more personality, more personal. I think it’s steering away from the typical indie pop and some stuff is veering a little more pop. A lot of the stuff that’s coming together, I haven’t heard stuff like it that’s out there right now. I’m not saying it’s drastically crazy or different -- it’s not this weird avant garde thing --, it’s still pop music, but I think there is some sort of unique quality to it. It’s very song focused; song writing. We’ve been trying to write really good songs, and then take the production around that to fit the song.”

Where have you pulled inspiration from for unreleased music?

Kiloran: “Sonically and sound wise, we’re just trying to do what we like and not worrying necessarily about ‘this person’s doing this’, or ‘this person’s doing that’..It’s more of a.. ‘this sounds good to me. ’ ..I’d say the whole point of this album from a lyrical perspective is to open up the mind of an artist to a listener, in the sense that I feel like a lot of times bands or artists sometimes put up a persona, or have a wall there. What I wanted to do is..have this concept of peeling away those layers of the social media, and the photography, and the production and just let it be. ‘This is what it’s like to be a fellow human person who’s doing this weird career., the emotions that go along with that because of it, and also from other life things.’ It’s supposed to open up a little more of the humanity of the ‘glorified artist’ mentality, because I think ‘celebrityism ’ is so common and I think that’s really dangerous. ..What I’m trying to do is connect with people -- like ‘Hey, I know you like what I’m doing, but that doesn’t have to be blown up’. I hope a bunch of people like it, and I hope we can sell out a bunch of stuff, I wanna do all that , but I just like the aspect of that personal connection, and letting people see inside.”

And to close with Tongue Tied’s signature question, How would you describe your music to someone who’s never heard music before?

Ogelby: “It’s like you’re tapping your foot, but you’re wondering why you’re crying. A sad bop.”

Check out Milkk online:

https://wearemilkk.com

https://twitter.com/wearemilkk?ref_src=twsrc%5Egoogle%7Ctwcamp%5Eserp%7Ctwgr%5Eauthor

https://soundcloud.com/wearemilkk

https://www.facebook.com/wearemilkk/

Article by: Liz Holland

[heyyyharry]

The Boy Next Door - Part 1

Masterlist

A angsty/fluffy series in which you and Harry were childhood best friends who lived next door from each other, until he became Harry of One Direction and you moved out of town. Years later, you two meet again when you and Harry come back home for New Year.

He’s coming back to Holmes Chapel, they say. Everyone in this town is excited. Of course, why not? They all love Harry Styles, the man who made them proud. He comes back to visit his family often so it's not a surprise that he's back to celebrate New Year with them. But this time, you're coming back too. You don't live in Holmes Chapel, at least not anymore. You're back for a week to celebrate New Year with your mom and your brother. You haven't come back ever since your parents got divorced.

You don’t know why you’re nervous, it’s just Harry, you’re childhood soulmate, whom you haven’t seen since he left the old town to tour the world and you left followed your dad away from this place. The day you two said good bye, neither of you had thought it would be your last. He promised he would reach out for you but he never did. He’s probably busy, you keep telling yourself, or maybe you’re just not that important. You read every news about him, watch every interview, get updated on how he is and who he is with, just to feel close to him like you used to and keep your belief that to him you’re not a distant memory. This year, you both come back to this old town, where most of your memories together lie. And you’re nervous.

You used to live next door to Harry. Your window facing his. The first time you two met was through those windows, the last time you saw him was also through those windows. You said your hellos and goodbyes through those windows. When he moved out, you stopped looking at the window next door, because it saddened you knowing he’s not there anymore.

“The Styles are throwing a New Year's Eve party tonight. Mum and I are planning to go over there after dinner. Are you coming?” your brother’s question drags you back to reality. You blink your eyes quickly and realize that your coffee has got cold as you spaced out.

“I guess not.”

“You haven’t seen them in years, gotta go say hi to Anne, Gemma, and…” your brother’s voice fades out as she sees the change of expression on your face, “…Harry.”

“They probably don’t remember me.” He probably doesn’t.

“Don’t be silly. Anne keeps asking mum and I about you.”

“No, I’ve got things to do tonight anyway.”

“Oh you meaning like staying in your room watching Netflix?”

“No…other….things.”

“But it's New Year's Eve.”

You shrug, not saying anything. Your brother just rolls his eyes and stands up from the kitchen table, bringing his finished plate to the sink as he says, “fine, your choice.”

…

You can hear the sound of the party from your room, it’s hard to stay focused on the movie playing on your laptop when those people next door are so loud. You don’t know why you’re being so cranky about it, it’s probably because you secretly wish you were there. You stand up from your desk and walk to the window just out of curiousity, and you can’t help but notice that the lights are on in the room next door. Your heart begins to race, and when you see Harry, you feel like it stops.

He doesn’t see you, he’s buttoning up his shirt while looking into a full length mirror. He’s definitely different from the last time you saw him. He’s more matured, more "Hollywood", more unfamiliar. You should turn away now but you keep on staring, you cannot stop. And the moment you’re afraid is gonna happen, finally happens. He sees you. He's looking right at you. You’re still not moving. When Harry's eyes meet yours, you’re just completely frozen. Harry looks at you for what seems like an eternity, as if he tries to recollect his memories of you through that stare, or he's just trying to figure out who you are.

“Hi,” you mouth to him with a small smile spread across your lips.

“Hi,” he mouths back, dimples appear on his cheek. The look on his face tells you he recognizes you, which makes you really happy. You can't hear a sound or see anything else. Everything is blurred except for him. As you're thinking of what to do next, Harry immediately turns his head away as somebody knocks on his door. Then he walks out of your sight and then the lights inside his room go off. 

You’re still standing at your window, trying to figure out what just happened. You just saw your best friend again and all you said to each other was hi. He left without saying goodbye or asking you how your life’s been. “Hi”? That’s it? That is what you get after years apart? You don't know how you should feel. Glad that he's back? Sad that he acts like you're no big deal? Or disappointed that he's not as happy to see you as you are to see him? Letting out a heavy sigh, you pull down your curtains and close your window.

...

You are sleeping in your bed when you hear some noise coming out from the big tree outside your window. You don’t normally get awaken so easily during the night but this time that noise wakes you up. You lazily open your eyes and see a black figure climbing through your window. You must be dreaming, you think as you rub your eyes and reach out to grab your glasses on the bedside table.

“H-Harry?” you ask and Harry puts his forefinger to his lips to signal you to stay quiet. You are so confused right now, still thinking you’re dreaming about Harry climbing into your room in the early morning on New Year's day. But as he sits down in front of you on the edge of your bed, you know it’s real.

“What-Why are you here?” you ask, keeping your voice down. You don't want your mom or your brother to come and find Harry in your room.

“Some guy’s outside my house taking pictures of me, I don’t feel safe there.”

This is the first time you've heard his voice since  His voice is deeper now.

“And you decide that climbing into my room through the window would be more subtle?”

Your question makes him laugh. Hearing the sound of it causes your cheeks to turn red. Why are you blushing? It’s just Harry. Or is it because this man doesn’t feel like your Harry anymore?

“Nobody saw or heard me climb into your window. I’m surprised I’m still good at sneaking into your room. After all those years.”

After all those years, you repeat the words to yourself and your heart sinks a little.

“Were you sleeping? Did I wake you up?”

“Yes, you did, H. But don't bother, I'm not sleepy anymore now that I'm awake.”

“I’m sorry, petal.”

You widen your eyes at the nickname. It’s not the first time he’s ever called you that, it’s just been too long. He’s still Harry but he didn’t come back as the same person who left years ago. He’s changed, and so have you.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks cautiously when he sees the look on your face.

“The nickname.” You breathe out a nervous laugh and look away to avoid his eyes. “Feels kind of odd hearing it again.”

“Does it? I’ve always called you that.”

“The last time we spoke you were 17 and I was 16.”

The smile dies down on his face as if he finally remembers how long it’s been since you last saw each other, so long that he no longer feels familiar to you. Harry was probably too caught up with his career, the fame, the pressure of being in the public’s eye, to actually spend time thinking about his childhood friend. You wonder if the realization of that breaks his heart as badly as it’s broken yours. You hope it does.

“Right,” says Harry since it’s the only appropriate thing he can come up with right now. Then the look he's giving you changes.

“You wear glasses now, and your hair is longer.” He smiles at his discovery. His smile, it has a soothing effect, you feel calm when you see his smile. That hasn't changed. You're less nervous now and a bit more comfortable being alone with him.

“Yeah, and you're different too. Much more different. You look so…cool now, hardly recognize you anymore.”

“Thanks?”

“You're welcome.”

The silence follows after bothers you a lot. What should you say to him next? You know nothing about him (personally at least) and he knows nothing about you. Conversations with Harry used to be the easiest thing in the world, not anymore. Maybe you should ask him why he's never contacted you. Yeah, you probably should, you think to yourself. But when you open your mouth, the question comes out entirely different.

“How long are you gonna stay?”

“I...don't know.” He sighs. “If you want to sleep, go ahead. I won't make a sound.”

You roll your eyes but you smile anyway.

“But if you want to stay up with me, we've got...” He pauses and looks at the time on his phone. “...five hours until the sun rises.” Then his green eyes turn back to you. “...and a lot of catching up to do.”

“That sounds fine,” you say and exchange another smile with Harry. 

The two of you spend most of the time before sunrise to talk about each other's lives in the past years. You tell him about your parents' divorce, about school after he was gone, about your new internship, your grumpy boss, your first serious relationship which ended a year ago. Harry tells you about 1D's break up, his fans, his movie, the girls he’s fallen in and out of love with and the songs he's written for them (which bothers you more than you thought it would and makes you wish he had written a song about you too). You wake up the second time that morning, this time, wrapped in Harry's arm. As you see the first sun light of the new year, you also see him, sleeping soundly beside you. Something inside you has healed and you feel whole again. But how long is this feeling going to last before everything goes downhill again?  

“Happy New Year, H,” you whisper to a sleeping Harry, your best friend, the man you’ve convinced yourself so many times that you are not still in love with. “Please don't leave...”

Part 2

[t-o-a-l]

Quebec Day 1

(from yesterday)

Of course we were too early for our room as it was just 8am. But we left cases and are now having breakfast especially a bowl of coffee at Les Trois Garçons. It’s all very French here.

All the signs the streets the shops the maps the menus everything is in French with an English translation below where necessary. Announcements are French first English next. You expect to feel you are in France, but you’re not, it lacks that je ne sais quoi that chicness especially the people but it’s sure quaint especially here in old Quebec where some houses date back to 1600’s.

After being fortified by a big breakfast we set off to the city walls and a walk around to the Citadel.

Yes another Citadel, it’s all one side (French or English) seemed to do around here. This one was a working one (as in people worked here) and still occupied by an army regiment, the Royal 22nd. Consequently most of the Citadel was off limits unless you paid for a guided tour. You were shuffled in and out of the Museum area out into the rest of the place. As we were early we got there in time to see the changing of the guard. All up it took nearly an hour and a very grand if small event. Even the goat was paraded.

We then went straight onto the guided tour. It was all a bit quick even though another hour as you couldn’t really stop and read a lot of information on the wall plaques of the buildings nor even go inside the chapel, for example. However the guide made up for it with her enthusiasm and her ‘Ello ‘Ello accent. ‘I will sey zis inly wince’

The Museum was next. It was good but we had hoped for some history of the town as well as the Citadel but it was the history of the regiment focusing on the action they had seen. And to be truthful it was a struggle reading the English translations often in smaller print. But it was very well done and laid out.

Back inside there was no real cafe just machines so we left in search of coffee.

By this time it had heated up and being Saturday the crowds were out. We later found out it is Quebec’s summer festival - Festival d’ete de Quebec - it goes for 10 days. There are a lot of minor stages and the main one, on the Plains of Abraham where the brits (Wolfe) defeated the French (Montcalm) in just 26mins capturing Quebec for the English for ever and ever (amen)

Anywho we needed a rest and a shower before dinner. We had to wait for our room of course, but lounged in the a/c lounge as it was touching high 20’s outside.

Then we ventured out for dinner. Just round the corner we said like breakfast this morning. Exited the hotel into mayhem!

The place was teeming because it was Saturday and the first Saturday of the festival (Neil young was in main arena later that night for example)

Anyway after walking up and down looking at queues for every restaurant we chose ‘Chez Murphy’s Pub Irlandais’ and shared a pizza.

(And a couple of drinks much needed) We were also befriended by the table next to us especially by one guy. He asked me to take a photo of his group. Then began the battle of conversing as his English was as bad as my French but I had a go!! And we got on like a house on fire. I think.

At the end of the evening we think he invited us to go to a ‘Saturday Night Fever’ tribute show or something, with them. I think he was going to sneak us in. Told us to meet him ‘ up there’ everything seemed up there to him, and he would sort it out.

Well we did walk up there but not to meet him but to check out the stage up there. There was a Brazilian band Da Cruz knocking it out and they were terrific. Not sure if it was free inside the barriers but we stood with crowd just outside. At the end they asked for audience to come up and dance. And they did. Dozens. I think more than they thought including and old tramp who like to just dance hear the attractive singer. I just hope he didn’t smell as bad as he looked.

At the end of their gig we just had to go back to bed. End of a long long day.

Hooroo 👋👋😎

[restorerjourney]

Week 6: Discipleship and a special testimony

-Aloha~

This week we were supposed to have speakers who teach us about discipleship and identity but one of the speakers was not able to come due to the pandemic so we had a very special guest pastor speak to us instead about his time in North Korea.

We had Pastor Jay Park from Grace Covenant Chapel located in New Jersey come and speak for 3 days. Pastor Jay Park....I’m not gonna lie...at first glance looks like a gangster leader. He is a big man with a deep voice but he is so animated that when he impersonates a korean woman encountering a cockroach while on outreach, I burst out laughing. He really is a gifted speaker and I was so blessed by what he had to share. Here are some key points that I took away from the lecture

- There is a new 10-40 window we need to focus on and that is the age group between 10-40 year olds Christians who are losing their faith. This in effect is causing a decrease number of Christians that will ultimately affect our future generation. One of the key solution to this issue that resonated with me is the need for discipleship.There is not such thing as an “instant disciple”. Like the word, it takes discipline. Disciples are made, not something you are born with.Justification helps instantly with God’s mercy, but sanctification takes discipline, in community, and is a life long process. To make disciples, it requires obedience. 

““Only he who believes is obedient, and only who is obedient believes. You can only learn what obedience is by obeying. It is no use in asking questions; for it is only through obedience that you come to learn the truth” -Deietrich Bonhoeffer

When I hear of church planting, sometimes I wonder why we do it. Why is there 3 churches in the same intersection. Is it because they have their own agenda and they can’t seem to agree. Pastor Jay opened my eyes to see that church planting is one of the most powerful evangelistic tools God uses to advance His kingdom. Also he helped us discern that the struggles that we’ve experience in the church whether if it’s drama within members, financial issues, gossip, or leaders who abuse their power, they are not the church’s fault but those who are causing the problems in the church. He revealed in the bible that Jesus warned his disciples about those who are like weeds, wolves in sheep clothing, and infant believers who only complain about their selfish needs and not mature are those who misrepresent the true nature of what the church is supposed to look like. I have generalized the blame against the church without realizing and this truth really helped me to forgive, love, and fight for the church again. 

Thursday and Friday we had Pastor Kenneth Bae from South Korea come and speak to us about his experience being arrested and detained in North Korea for 2 years. If you guys look him up on the internet, you can find him in CNN because this happened a few years ago. It’s crazy that he was speaking to us. He is a fellow Ywamer back in the early 2000s and he did his outreach in China where he stayed for a few more years. He started a Ywam base there and started doing ministry to North Korea. While he was there he was caught with digital information of gospel work in North Korea by one of North Korean security guards and was detained in their concentration camp for two agonizing years. It was eye opening to hear his experience of how they tortured him, but also how God used him to share the North Koreans guardsmen who Jesus is whom they never heard of. The North Korea government is fearful of Christianity and call it a “virus” that can overrule their government. Even though there are a few “churches” there, the name of Jesus is never used and was erased from every document. So when they spoke with Pastor Bae, it literally was their first time hearing about Jesus. It was also amazing how God provided and held his hand through the difficult times. It is evident that through the concentration camp, because he feared for his life, he was desperate for Jesus’s comforting presence and has encountered Him daily. After he was freed, God gave him a vision to start a non-profit organization called NK relief and NGI ( Nehemiah Global Initiative). NK Relief’s mission is to rebuild North Korean refugees’ lives (nkrelief.org). NGI’s mission is dedicated to rebuilding the lives of North Korean refugees through holistic education. They are focusing equipping North Korean youths resettled in South Korea with the critical skills they need in their education to fulfill their path to a successful future as leaders and contributors in this world (https://ngikorea.org/eng). He also created a platform, pray4nk.org, where you can partner with them in praying for the nation and the people every day. His story made me really learn about North Korea and their struggles and how we as a body need to pray and advocate for them.

Work duty at the farm has been the same except we have our staff’s kids come and help! They don’t really have access to their phones which forces them to play outside but they are so bored they want to help out at the farm so it’s been a blessing. There are moments when they do get out of control, but it’s so refreshing to see such wholesome kids wanting to be part of something, even if it involved seeing a bunch of cockroaches, cleaning dirty rocks, or helping out at the aquaponics.

This weekend was something I was looking forward to. Pastor John and his wife Grace, who are two of the staff members in our team, offered to drive my roomies and I around the entire island and show us some cool places. We went to South point which is the southern most tip of the island. We went to Black sand beach where there are a lot of sea turtles. We went to a macadamia nut farm, the national volcano park, Hilo ( although it rained so we didn’t see much), Queens market at Waimea, and Akaka falls. We left at 9am and came back around 7pm. We mostly munched on macadamia nuts (they were so delicious and crunchy, homemade spam musubi, traditional and guava malasadas from Punaluʻu Bake Shop and apples which were all graciously provided by Pastor John and Grace. It was such a blessing to be served and loved by them as they sacrificially gave their time, energy, and finances to show us a good time. I hope that when I too retire, use that time to give back to the younger generation like them. 

On Sunday, one of our staff leaders, Pastor Sunny gave us a tour on the history of Kona, God’s sovereignty over the people, our Korean ancestor’s experience and hardship, and last but not least, some fun facts about Kona coffee. It was amazing to see how Christianity allowed the Hawaiian people here thrive and prosper. I love the Hawaiian culture here and their respect towards nature and what they have been given to steward. It was heart breaking to hear how our Korean ancestors that immigrated to Kona for work ended up being in the bottom of the food chain amongst the Portugese, Chinese, and Japanese immigrants especially when Korea were overtaken by the Japan during the Korean war. Many of our Korean ancestors had to do the hard labor not only in the sugar plantations but also building roads by using dynamite to break apart the lava rocks. When you buy Kona coffee here make sure to verify if it is 100% Kona coffee. To me it’s the smoothest coffee I’ve ever tasted. Technically if you have coffee that has 10% Kona coffee, they can sell it as “Kona Hawaiian coffee” so make sure to check the labels! 

After church, we had an ice cream party provided by one of our staff leader, Pastor Jimmy. Then some of us did zumba together and had a wonderful time. I picked up some of the other girls to go eat dinner while watching the sunset at Queen’s bath. It was so beautiful and vast! Something I never want to forget in my mind. Later when we got home, Pastor Timmy’s wife, Yina, made us rose ddukboki which is like a vodka ddukboki. It was so thoughtful of her because Pastor Timmy asked earlier if there was one thing we could eat, what it would be and he surprised us with our wish. 

I feel well rested and full. Time is going by too fast and I’m trying to take it all in. 

Praise report:

-Even without taking my medication for my hormonal acne, my skin did not breakout AT ALL. 

Prayer request

-My neck, back, and shoulders are still really stiff and painful in the morning.

-Endurance and strength to take in this upcoming lecture which is on freedom. I pray to have more freedom from my fears of the future, freedom from the fear of man, freedom to live the way that God has called me to live

Mahalo,

Alicia Kim

[denmarkduringthefall-blog]

Long Study Tour With DIS

 An important part of the DIS program is that students really take advantage of studying in a different country; they want us to “use Europe as our classroom”. To fulfill this goal, DIS takes students on two trips throughout the semester. For my first trip, I spent three days in western Denmark. You can read about that trip if you click here. This post is about my week-long study trip through Germany and Switzerland. If you are extra curious about any of the sites I visited, you can click their name, I have linked most of them to their respective websites. 

Sunday, Oct 29: Zurich

I overslept but managed to make it through the airport about half an hour before my flight boarded. Due to some issues with our plane, we ended up taking off almost two hours late anyway. When we finally landed in Zurich, we were too late to go to our first scheduled tour. Instead, we took a bus to our hotel. I always enjoy that first ride from the airport through a city, and this trip was no exception. Autumn is in full swing here and the orange and red trees looked lovely against Zurich’s old architecture. After dropping our stuff off at the hotel (probably the nicest place I’ll stay during all of my time in Europe) we went to the Swiss National Museum, which was designed to fit in with the medieval buildings in Zurich but was actually built in the late nineties.  Some of the exhibits were interesting, but they were all about Swiss history so, to be honest, I tired of them pretty quickly. The museum got a really cool modern extension in 2016. I really liked it. It was all concrete, set at odd angles and every once in a while there would be a perfectly circular window, reminiscent of a porthole, framing something nice outside of the museum. Here: the river, there: a stately old building. Again, I was wowed by all of the autumn leaves outside the windows, they made for some fantastic contrast against the dark, gray interior of the museum.

After that, I went for a stroll along the canal with some friends from my architecture studio. We walked through the city center, full of old architecture and narrow winding streets, until we stumbled upon Lindenhofplatz which is a park set up on a hill. It offers a really nice view of Zurich.

At that point we were getting pretty cold, so we managed to find a pub where we hung out and had a beer while we waited to meet the rest of our group for dinner at a traditional German restaurant.

Monday, Oct 30: Zurich

We had a breakfast buffet at our hotel where I drank probably five cups of coffee (and was still sleepy) then headed out at 7:30 for the Letzigrund Stadium. On our way there we stopped by MFO-Park. The park is a large plaza with almost no vegetation on ground level. No grass? Kinda strange for a park. Instead of a grassy area, the designers (Burkhardt+Partner and a landscape architect called Raderschallpartner) made a metal frame which looks a lot like the skeleton of a building. Then they added a bunch of different species of vines which will (eventually, hopefully) grow to cover the whole structure. There are also little "plazas" on the various different levels of the structure with wooden benches. There's even one on the top of the building, about four stories up. From this one, you can look across the top of the park/structure out and at the surrounding city. It was a really cool and unique design. I don't think I have seen anything like it on such a large scale.

Letizigrund is a new, multi-use soccer stadium in district 4 of Zurich. Apparently, district 4 used to be very industrial and was cut off from the rest of the city by the many many sets of train tracks. Now, like so many warehouse districts, it is becoming the hip area full of art galleries, concert venues, and new bars. The stadium was kinda cool but I think I may have been a little too tired to really appreciate it at the time. Our tour guide was a funny guy, he did not hesitate to tell us about some of the problems with the stadium.

Next, we went to Toni-Areal which was a milk factory before it was refurbished and transformed into a university for the arts. I loved the building. Designers retained much of the industrial feeling but added tons of big windows and garden terraces.

After the art school, we walked to the ImViadukt which is an elevated train track, that is still in use today but has been adapted for a few more uses besides travel at this point. One of the two tracks has been changed into an elevated walkway, and all of the spaces underneath the track have been walled up to create storefronts for shops and restaurants. Its pretty neat, and a great re-use (double use?) of a space most people might not think to utilize. I got lunch under the train tracks. There was a small market hall and I found a Japanese restaurant. I got a really tasty veggie steamed bun and some miso soup which was great to warm me up! We were really lucky to get lots of clear, sunny weather during this trip, but it was still October in Germany so it was pretty chilly anytime we went outside. 

After lunch, my little group walked along the top of the train tracks for a  bit. We went to the Freitag Flagship store which was cool. It was built by stacking shipping containers on top of each other, there is an observation deck at the top.

We wandered around that area a little more, then managed to figure out how to take the train back into the city center ( there are SO MANY different train lines in Zurich). 

We spent another couple hours walking around the old part of the city, along the edge of the canal, sketching a little and freezing our butts off. We went into Das Grossmünster, a large cathedral which had really cool "stained glass" windows made of thinly sliced agate. 

Eventually, we made our way to meet our group for dinner. We ate at a vegetarian buffet, which was super tasty. (Even the non-vegetarians enjoyed it). After dinner, we went to some thermal baths. This spa had a rooftop pool, which was fantastic. We got to look out at all of the city lights while relaxing in warm mountain spring water.

On our last night in Switzerland, our tour leaders asked us to make a drawing that illustrates our current understanding of Switzerland. The drawing above is sort of a response to that prompt in an abstract style. It includes the hills, train tracks, the canal, old buildings, and winding streets of Zurich. 

Tuesday, October 31: Ronchap, France and Weil am Rhein, Switzerland

We left our hotel by chartered bus bright and early Tuesday morning. Our first stop was the Chappelle du Ronchomp which is very famous among architects. Designed by Le Corbusier, the chapel is super site-specific and really beautiful. Le Corbusier was enchanted by the natural beauty of the mountainous landscape and wanted to work with it, rather than distract from it. He worked with light in some really fantastic ways, using lots of stained glass and soft building materials like wood and white-washed sprayed concrete. 

After the chapel, our bus took us to Vitra Campus. Vitra is a high-end furniture and lighting design company, Vitra campus includes their production halls, two design museums, and a showroom. Here is a link to the presentation that I made about it.  In 1981, there was a fire on the campus that destroyed practically every building on the campus. After that, Vitra decided to hire up-and-coming architects to design interesting buildings on their campus. They ended up with a Frank Gehry, a Zaha Hadid and lots of other works from now world-renowned architects.

The campus was awesome, especially the showroom  "Vitrahaus" and the enormous (like 4 stories tall) corkscrew slide. We had a lot of fun working our way through the showroom, testing out each of the different chair designs. It was also fun to be in Vitrahaus because the campus sits in this special spot right on the borders of Germany, Switzerland, and France. This means that you can see all three countries from the floor-to-ceiling windows of Vitrahaus. 

After Vitra, we headed to our hotel in Freiberg, Germany. This was a college town so my friends and I decided that we would try to go out for Halloween.

We found an Irish pub and spent most of the night there. We had bought wigs and other disguises the night before. I'm glad that I found some friends who appreciate Halloween as much as I do, even if most Europeans don’t. 

Wednesday, Nov 1: Basel

 Our first stop on Wednesday was the Beyeler Foundation, which had some fantastic art. I saw one performance art piece which I really liked. Maybe “saw” isn’t really the right word, because it took place in a very dark room. I think “experienced” is probably a more appropriate verb. Below I’m going to try (and probably fail) to recreate the experience for you from some notes I made in my journal afterwards. 

“After working your way through a small exhibition of dark, inky drawings, you turn a corner, then another, only to be confronted by a dark hallway. “Am I supposed to be here?” you think--but there are no signs that indicate you shouldn’t be. You work your way along the dark hallway, one hand on the wall to make sure you don’t lose your way. It just keeps getting darker, but you can hear music coming from the end of the hall so you push on. In time the wall you have been following falls away and you are forced to turn the corner. The room you enter is also very dark but its lit by a few barely-glowing lightbulbs, You can sense that there are other people in the room, but until your eyes adjust you can’t actually see any of them. Eventually, you realize that these people are performers. Each of them is making sounds which individually wouldn’t qualify as singing, but collectively form an acapella piece with no words. You walk into the center of the room and the music is coming from all around you, slowly building. Its beautiful, and when they finally fall silent you aren’t sure if you want to break the magic by applauding. You decide not to. You float out of the room and back down the hallway into the now overy-bright white museum.”

The piece was choreographed by a German artist called Tino Sehgal, who specializes in “constructed situations” (which feels like a pretty accurate label for the pice I saw). I was not the only member of my tour group who really liked this piece. If you ever get a chance to see one of his pieces, I absolutely recommend that you go for it. 

Afte the Beyeler Foundation, we took a train to the Kunstmuseum Basel, which houses the largest art collection in Switzerland. It recently got a modern addition, which is why we were there. The addition was cool, full of soft concrete and crisscrossing staircases. 

After the Kunstmuseum (Kunst means “art”) We headed back to Freiburg for one last site visit. We went to the Vauban neighborhood. I really liked Vauban because it is a neighborhood which was designed with environmental and social sustainability as top priorities. Vauban is full of greenery and is very walkable. There are almost as many parks as there are apartment buildings. All of the buildings produce some form of renewable energy and have some kind of rainwater-catchment system. On one edge of the neighborhood, an area which had been set aside for extra parking spaces has been turned into a huge community-run farm. It was seriously awesome to see a project like this succeeding. These are the kinds of areas I hope to see springing up in many more locations. 

Thursday, November 2: Cologne

The next morning we took a train from Freiburg to Cologne, Germany. We stayed right next to the central station and the Cologne Cathedral. Cologne had the most modern feel of all of the European cities I have visited so far (because most of the old buildings were bombed in WWII). After dropping our stuff off at our hostel, we walked over to the Kolumba Museum, which was designed by Peter Zumthor to fit into the ruins of a gothic church. There is a really cool area (open to the public) in which you can walk over some of these ruins on an elevated walkway. It was hard to get a good picture of this, but Zumthor played with natural light and the indoor-outdoor boundary by leaving some of the bricks out in the construction of the new walls. 

This museum was small, but I was okay with that. It had a nice mix of contemporary works and historical roman-catholic art. 

After the museum, we visited the Cologne Cathedral, which was nothing short of astounding (especially considering that the enormous building was built before cranes were a thing). It’s HUGE but still very intricate. It was built in the gothic style and though it was originally made out of light colored stone, it is now almost black with soot and pollution from the industrial era (we all agreed that it looks better black, anyway).

Thursday evening, my friends and I strolled along the Rhine River, which was especially lovely at sunset. We stumbled upon a fair where we ate kettle corn and played silly games. Good clean fun. 

Friday, November 3: Essen

We squeezed in two last site visits before our flight back to Copenhagen. The first of these was Brother Klaus Filed Chapel which was built as a sacred space for the farmers who live in Mechernich-Wachendorf, Germany. It is a small and simple structure which you can only reach by walking through some farm fields. Zumthor, the designer, paid a lot of attention to the materials he used. He had local farmers help him with the construction. 112 tree trunks from the surrounding countryside were set up in a teepee formation before having 24 layers of concrete poured over them. The trees were then set ablaze and slow-burned for almost two weeks. This fired the concrete and left a charred space inside the structure which is textured like tree bark. Some light comes through glass orbs embedded in the walls, but most of it comes from a large opening in the top of the chapel. This opening references the story of Brother Klaus (a 15th-century mystic who is special to German farmers) who, so his story goes, saw a starburst while in the womb.  I really liked this chapel. It was nice to see what a uniquely beautiful structure can be created using simple, local materials. 

Above: Photos of the field chapel

Below: A serial vision (drawing exercise) of views approaching the chapel

After the chapel, we went to the Ruhr Museum and the Red Dot Design Museum in Essen. The buildings used to be a coal washing plant, but now they have been repurposed. The Ruhr Museum is dedicated to the natural and cultural history of the area and the Red Dot Design Museum showcases products which have won the prestigious Red Dot design award. I really liked the Red Dot Museum. As a big fan of clever design, it was fun to take a look at the various objects, but I also thought that curators did a really good job in redesigning the space to display these products. The building is a World Heritage Site, so designers could not remove most of the machinery in the building. Instead of letting this space go to waste, designers built elevated walkways which wind through the machinery. They use the machinery itself as a place to display the Red Dot products. I thought that this was cool because instead of trying to hide or ignore the machinery, it encourages visitors to investigate the site as well as the exhibition. 

[coffeebreakstatement]

Poland Summer 2017 #2: Three Doors

There are three doors to get into the apartment I’m staying in. One from the street to inside, one from inside back outside to the private courtyard, and one to the apartment. Doors are different here though. It takes about three turns to unlock a door. There is no latch on the other side to close it once you are inside. You have to turn the key three times on one side to unlock it and three times on the other side to lock it. A one-way trip works out to about 18 turns of the key. I made this trip a few times today.

I made one poor decision to stay up late last night (read: I allowed jetlag to win) and I didn’t set an alarm (read: I allowed jetlag to win again). When I rolled out of bed at 3:00 p.m. I thought I must have forgotten to change my clock. No such luck.

Today was my day to exchange my money and get my phone set up. Part of why I stayed up late was because I was researching which phone company and plan to go with. I messaged my friend Julia probably a five hundred-word essay about what I had read about my options, including links to Polish pages because I didn’t know what they said. Like the angel she is, she responded with a message about as long as mine, but confirmed that I should go with the company I had originally planned on.

Last time I was in Poland getting my phone card set up, my host mom was able to help us translate the error messages it was giving us and in the end, we went to the phone store to set it up. When we were there, no one spoke English so with my limited Polish skills, I was elected to help us communicate with the workers in the store (which resulted in a lot of gesturing). When I got to the phone store this time (with a different company), the two workers were both young and though I started in Polish, the guy who was helping me switched to English pretty quickly. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize I needed my passport to register the phone card so I had to come home to pick it up before I could use it.

When I arrived back at the store, I started in Polish again and the girl there was able to get me set up very quickly. She asked me (in English) what I was doing in Poland and I told her I was going to study Polish. Her shocked expression made me understand her question more as “What are you doing in Katowice”. Her question made more sense later when the guidebook I had brought with me from my Airbnb quoted their previous edition saying, “Katowice is never going to win any beauty prizes” and “That the finest building in town is a concrete bowl that looks like a UFO should be an indicator of what lies in store”. The paragraph later reads “Now, dear reader, you find yourself in a city which has undergone a major, and badly needed facelift”. I would never have guessed that the city was so much less vibrant just ten years ago.

As I walked out of the mall (a new addition as part of this “facelift”), I could hear a voice yelling excitedly from a speaker. Nearing the exit, I could see many people crowded around a big screen. I got there just in time to watch the end of the Tour de Pologne, which was in Katowice today, and be a part of the excited cheers of the crowd when the first cyclists crossed the finish line. I had planned to go see the route earlier in the day because I had known it was here today, but alas sleep had other plans for me.

About two months before my trip, I had been looking at coffee shops in Katowice on Instagram (how I find most of the coffee shops I go to) and I found one that looked super cute and updated very frequently. I was super excited to go to this coffee shop, and my excitement was definitely not ill-placed. Vancouver coffee has NOTHING on a strong Americano at Synergia. I make visiting coffee shops my job and trust me, this Americano was perfect.

After my coffee, I knew I needed to start heading to the one church I had found with an evening Mass (there were probably more but this one had a site that I could navigate well enough to find Mass times). I wanted to go home quickly to drop some things off and in doing so, I left myself with very little time to make the short walk to the church. I knew it was close to my place but as I turned onto the right street at 6:30 on the dot, I hadn’t anticipated a giant brick wall surrounding the church, nor that I would be approaching from the backside. I was about 5 minutes late, but thankfully I was not the only one.

One of my favourite things to do when travelling (especially in different countries) is attending Mass. I love that even though I do not understand everything the priest says, I can tell where they are in the liturgy and I can still say the responses and prayers in English (though the Polish responses took much longer to say). To me, this is something so uniquely beautiful about the Catholic Church; the liturgy is the same no matter where in the world you go, just in a different language. It is in moments like these when the definition of “catholic”, meaning “universal”, is so obvious and special.

The brick wall should have been a warning. I almost got locked in that church today. After the Mass was over, the church was so beautiful and peaceful so I sat in the chapel for a while. The church was pretty much empty except for me and a teenage boy who was also in the chapel. When I went to leave, I tried to go out the same way I came in. It was a small entryway with a door covering each wall. The door was locked. I thought maybe I just wasn’t strong enough. The rest of the doors were locked. At this point, the teenage boy came into the entryway, also about to leave. I let him try the door. It was still locked. He laughed and said something in Polish to me. I laughed and pretended I understood because I assumed it was probably something about the door being locked. He looked like he knew where he was going so I followed him to the front door. Also locked. I kept following him. We walked all the way to the back of the church. One door on the side was open and we were able to get out. If he hadn’t been there, I would probably have never found that door.

At this point I hadn’t really eaten much because I woke up so late, but I found a place that had really great reviews just around the corner from my place. The place I went to specialized in pulled pork sandwiches and I got the “Classic” which was dressed in horseradish, purple cabbage slaw, and pickles: Polish-style. My parents will be rolling their eyes right about now because I don’t eat 2/3 of those foods. I don’t know why but pickles taste SO MUCH BETTER in Poland. I had seen some advertisements around town about this “John Lemon” so when I saw it on the menu, I had to go for it. It is natural, unsweetened lemonade mixed with tea made in Katowice. Just when you thought no more puns could be made, I got the “Matchbata” (“tea” in Polish is “herbata”). They also had options like “Rooibata” and “Yerbata”.

I always bring a book to restaurants when I am eating alone (the book I brought with me is about math, #nerd). I had finished my chapter and it was getting fairly late so I assumed the place was about to close. I went up to the counter to pay, but the waitress (who spoke really good English), told me they didn’t close for another 2 hours. I asked her for local beverage recommendations. She showed me their juice and let me sample some of their beers (all made locally). She was shocked when I asked for the coffee milk stout because “girls don’t usually like dark beer”. It was over 30 degrees all day today so the evening was the perfect temperature to read another book with fairy lights overhead and a local beer in hand.

Today more people switched to English when we were talking. I don’t think I had a full conversation in Polish today but I at least tried to start in Polish for each of them. I had a conversation with my friend a little while ago about travelling. She likes to have a plan and know what she’s doing every day and in some ways, I wish I could be more like that. That’s probably the “smart” way of doing things because you can fit more things in when you are prepared and get the most out of the experience. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good museum, but I am realizing that I am a “lazy” solo traveler. I am just as happy to walk around the city and read the signs and watch the people and try the food as I am actually “doing” things. Maybe it is also because I am travelling alone and I like just spending quiet time doing nothing but taking in the atmosphere. A true introvert at heart. One more morning in this city. There is still a museum I might hit up tomorrow.

[mye90]

Italy

Today I finish my very first trip abroad, 2 weeks of pure fun and loads of “firsts” where I toured Italy, the country I wanted to lose my travel virginity to. It all started when my awesome guy decided to team up with my equally amazing sister and parents to make this trip the cherry on top of my 26th birthday. He thought it was about time I check this off the list of things I wanted to do before I hit the big 30.. To be entirely honest I didn’t think I will make it, and to be even more honest I didn’t realize what’s happening till I found myself wandering around Milano streets.. I got support from awesome friends. Ones who gave me advice and help before I traveled and others who created a home for me in their places and made sure I enjoy this trip and gave me advice and tricks and loads of encouragement and good breakfasts going out of their way sometimes to make sure I am super comfortable .. With how this is my very first I learned couple new things:

1. I was always one to enjoy my alone time, I never thought I will miss anything back home the minute I step out of it. And for the most part that was true, I didn’t miss home or family or friends. But I missed him!! I missed the guy I love and with all the friends who would text or call to make sure I am enjoying my time and having fun and safe his calls and texts were the best part.. sending him photos to let him in on my day was so good. And imagining how much more brilliant that could have been with him around brought tears to my eyes on multiple occasions.. I chose a home to go to and even in the nicest country ever his arms were the place I wanted to be…

Lesson learnt #1: I want to share my life experiences with him and I no longer enjoy alone time as much as I used to

2. Meeting new people is awesome. In the 3 hostels and 2 homes I stayed in and in the random squares and trains I found myself at I met and talked to brilliant people of all ages 19-60+ and they come from shit load of different places.. apparently when you travel around a lot you don’t think headscarves or muslims or people from other cultures weird.. and what’s more enjoyable is that you can indulge in long talks about big existential crises and hopes and dreams and fears and future plans and world peace.. you talk music and languages and heart break and culture and society.. you talk to random strangers, leave all your demons and restless thoughts for the night with them as if throwing them all to the void then part ways. 

Lesson learnt #2: we are all the same regardless where and when we come from

3. We meet new versions of our own friends when we meet them away from our normal habitat.. with the ones who spent a lot of time away, trying to figure out their next steps and having new fears and hopes, we see them in new light as they see you as a connection to the world they left behind. We meet a super honest version of them and we have more late night drunken conversations or early conversations over morning coffee and between both we see people we wouldn’t have met other wise. 

Lesson learnt #3: connections are easier to make when you are living in what seems like an unreal world

4. Walking is the best way to see everything and acting like the super excited tourist is ok sometimes.. Take out your camera and walk while taking loads of photos.. take selfies, pay attention to details, pay attention to shop windows and people randomly walking and children goofing around and hear the language and sing out loud with street performers when you know the song and it’s ok to miss home and its own kind of streets and noise so sing some more of your own songs out loud.

Lesson learnt #4: it’s ok to be excited 

5. I love dogs and love people having dogs and Italy is the place to go if you want to raise a dog.

Lesson learnt #5: DOGS ❤️ 

6. We don’t have enough free public spaces back home, we don’t have enough gardens and user friendly streets. We are always stressed because a huge part of our energy goes in the effort of handling the messy and scary streets.. the harassment and traffic.. we need to be club members to run or walk around instead of having parks and trees and fun safe zones.. it's exhausting and when I was in the less safe south of Italy I had the same guards up and was reminded with how much I hate it. 

Lesson learnt #6: we need user friendly urbanism (spoken as both an expert and a user) 

7. When this trip was in the planning phase I had different expectations for each city (I visited Milan-Mantua-Verona-Venice-Bologna-Florence-Rome-Napoli in that order) I stayed for different periods in each one, some for merely a morning and some for days. and even though I wasn't disappointed at any point but they weren't always as expected either 

 7.1. Milan: Will always hold a special place in my heart. It was the city I landed in. First city to visit. First time I live all alone in an apartment. And it is so busy and old and modern all at the same time.. I didn't feel like a stranger there, didn't get weird looks and was welcomed at first by my friend and host there, and then by all the city and last by my friend and his super generous roommates when I spent one last night there before my flight back. It's an international place with fancy people everywhere. 

7.2. Mantua: A small town that felt like home, a good place to retire in and a soothing lake.. will always love it for the good company of my second host and awesome friend there.. 

7.3. Verona: A medieval center and a modern city around it.. felt like I am stepping in and out of reality somehow. It’s good for a quick visit and lovely as all of Italy but nothing special.

7.4. Venice: So romantic, so brilliant.. I love water, I love being surrounded by seas and canals and it is perfect for that. but it felt like a Disney land that has a closing time. and beautiful as it was it felt a little scary walking around it alone late at night. felt like the magic was gone. I would still want to go there with the right company for the sunset and lazy nights and early beautiful mornings.

7.5. Bologna: It was an unfortunate city for me. A Friday which is normally a weekend back home. I was missing lazy Friday mornings and the atmosphere surrounding it and the idiot I love was lonely and bored and I kept wishing I was there with him instead. I was pulled aside randomly by police officers for quick check on my documents and I was just walking around with nothing in mind but sitting there in every piazza. I was rewarded later with a good dinner by some lovely old ladies and the city was a lovely mixture entangled of new and old. I should give it another try next time.

7.6. Florence: The lovely Tuscany. I loved the greens and hills everywhere that welcomes you while on your way with the train. A lovely old city that you can easily lose yourself to. A place straight out of history. Should spend a week or so just there to make sure you see it all. It was one of the best sunsets I watched.

7.8 Rome: You can only think of gladiators and Gods and Goddesses there. busy and old and the one place that reminded me of Roman myths. The little geeky child who was always fascinated with archaeology was in tears there.

7.9. The Vatican: You look around and it is more of a city of the pope more than a city of God. you love seeing the big basilica and the lovely chapels and it was second best sunset, but it is not a holy place for me and I wanted it to be.

7.10. Napoli: It felt like the messy home. And everywhere you go you are reminded of how their pizza is the best. I was scared going there, tired and already wanting to go home, but it was lovely nonetheless. Every single Italian stereotype was made with Napoli in mind.

Lesson learnt #7: It’s ok to have new opinions, and enjoy different aspects you didn’t expect.

8. You can easily fall into the bad racist stereotyping when you are scared.In the south I would see someone who looks non Italian (funny because I am “non Italian”) and I would automatically feel worried. or I would see someone who looks on the poor side and I would automatically make assumptions. This, I know, was wrong. But I was really scared and alarmed with guards up high. So I wouldn’t be mean or anything but I would simply be more alarmed around them. It makes me feel bad and like some superficial idiot. But ignorance and fear and loads of “take care” advice can manipulate even the best of brains.

Lesson learnt #8: We can all be assholes when scared. I apologize though for it.

9. Italian food is GOOD and they know how to let you indulge in it.

Lesson learnt #9: FOOD  ❤️

So, Those are mainly what I had in mind. I loved how I realized I am strong, I am independent and one who can handle herself alone in a different culture. I loved realizing I am not weak and not one to be worried about. I choose not to be alone though, I choose having those experiences with others. Well, with just a certain someone. I loved realizing I can have a fun conversation with pretty much anyone. I can randomly start conversations and be friendly and super talkative. I can keep my limits and I can ride a gondola alone :)

Ciao 

[anavoliselenu]

Anchor me chapter 4

I know that my pitch is spot-on; I spent well over a week proofing the thing, and several more weeks before that doing the actual work of putting the proposal on paper and making sure I didn’t promise more than I could deliver, both in terms of technological prowess and manpower to make it happen. Right now, Fairchild Development employs exactly one person—me. And if I get this contract, I’m confident that I can handle the work. But Greystone-Branch is a multinational consulting firm, and with their business locked in, I’d not only make enough off the contract to hire at least two developers, but my little company would also be settled more firmly on the map. Which would mean more customers. Which means more employees. And more income. And on and on and on. Planning for the possibility of rapid growth makes me nervous, so all my projections on paper are conservative. But I’ve reviewed every nickel and dime and decision with Justin, and when a man like Justin Stark says that my overall plan for growing the company looks dead-on doable, then I’d be a fool not to at least be cautiously optimistic about my little company’s chances. I’m scribbling some bullet points on possible tweaks to the user interface I’ve designed when my phone starts to blare out The Dixie Cups’ classic Chapel of Love at full volume. “You are a such a brat,” I tell my best friend Jamie after I’ve dug my phone out from under my backseat pile of papers. “I told you to take that ringtone off.” “Why would I do that? It works, doesn’t it? You totally knew it was me.” I roll my eyes. She’d been completely wasted when she grabbed my phone and fiddled with my ringtones not too long before she and Ryan got married. “What’s up?” I ask, making a mental note to change the ringtone myself. “Not a thing.” Her voice is bright. A little too bright. I slump back against the leather upholstery and cross my arms over my chest. “Give it up, James,” I order, using the familiar nickname. “I know you too well.” She exhales. “It’s just that you’re in Dallas.” Her words are almost tentative. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” “I’m okay. Thanks.” “Oh, please,” she says. “That’s what best friends are for.” But there’s still something odd about her voice. “Jamie?” She sighs. “Sorry. I’m just having one of those days. But you’re really okay? It’s not weird being home? You’ve been so obsessed about your mom lately.” “I haven’t been obsessed,” I correct. Jamie’s been with me at least once when I saw my mother in Los Angeles. Except it had to be my imagination. Because there is no reason for my mom to be in Los Angeles without wanting something from me. Even when she’d arrived unannounced to supposedly help with my wedding, she’d really been angling for a chunk of Justin’s money. So I knew damn well that she wouldn’t come to LA to simply watch me from a distance. I’d told Justin after the first sighting. At the time, I’d been working on the Greystone-Branch proposal, and he’d suggested that I was worried about coming to Dallas if I landed the contract. A reasonable theory, and one that I considered accurate when weeks went by without seeing her again. The next time, though, the proposal hadn’t even been on my mind. “Well, duh,” Jamie had said when I’d met her for coffee and consolation. “I know exactly why you’re seeing her.” I’d almost choked on my latte. “You do? Why?” “Because you have mommy issues.” “Don’t be absurd.” “Oh, come on. You and Justin have been together longer than Sylvia and Jackson. They have two kids, you and Justin have a cat. You adore Ronnie, that’s obvious. But when you hold little Jeffery, you light up so much it’s blinding. Justin’s the same way. It’s like you guys are primed to procreate.” “He’s our nephew, and he’s adorable,” I’d said defensively because kids weren’t in the cards for us. Not then. Not yet. But she’d been right. About everything, really. And now I’m sitting here in the back of a hired car with my hand over my belly, wondering if my mother’s been in Los Angeles all this time, and thinking about why I was so nervous about having a baby when clearly Justin and I are more than ready to make this work. “—how did that go, anyway?” I straighten, realizing that I’d zoned out. “Sorry. What?” “Your mom,” she says. “Oh.” I exhale loudly. “I think I was right all along.” “You went to see her, right? How did—” She was speaking over me, but she cuts herself off sharply. “Wait. What?” “My mom’s not here. She sold her house. She’s gone, Jamie.” “So you really think she’s been in LA all this time?” I sigh. “I don’t know. But at least that would mean I haven’t been seeing things.” “Fuck.” “Yup,” I say, because honestly, that sums up the situation nicely. “Are you okay?” I hesitate because what on earth am I supposed to tell her? The news about my mom is all mixed in now with the news of the baby, and even though I desperately want to share that with Jamie, I don’t want to tell her from fifteen hundred miles away. “Nicholas?” Her voice is firm, and she uses her nickname for me in emphasis. “Are you okay?” “Yes. Yes,” I repeat more forcefully. “Honestly, James, I’m great. Justin’s here and—well, everything is fine. It’s good. I’ll tell you all about the trip when I get home. And, hey,” I say brightly, because I am totally changing the subject, “was there some other reason you called?” “I—what?” “You just sounded weird when you called. Like there was something else on your mind.” “Oh! Well, actually, yeah. Um, you’re still coming to the premiere on Friday, aren’t you?” Our friend Jane’s book has been adapted into a movie, and the red carpet premiere is Friday at the Chinese Theater. “Are you kidding? Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” “I don’t know,” she says vaguely. “I just wanted to make sure.” I frown. “You still sound weird. Is something wrong? There’s not trouble between you and Ryan is there?” “Are you kidding? I’m drowning in marital bliss. Apparently, to my husband, a wedding ring is an aphrodisiac. I mean, everyone said the honeymoon phase would be over by now, but they were so wrong. Seriously, I thought I was well-fucked before we tied the knot, but now I—” “Got it,” I say, cutting her off before I have a visual picture that I’ll never be able to un-see. “Ryan’s going early to oversee security, right? Do you want to share the limo with us?” “Normally, I’d jump at it. But this time, I’m turning you down cold.” “Really?” I can’t help but laugh at the tone of her voice. “Why?” “Because this girl is going to be on the red carpet interviewing celebs as they come traipsing into the theater. Live on camera in a seriously awesome dress.”

“Jamie! That’s amazing!” Jamie’s been working as the weekend anchor job for a local news affiliate, but she’s been gunning to get out in the field and do entertainment reporting. To actually be on a red carpet interviewing A-listers is pretty much her dream come true. Jamie’s got the kind of A-list good looks that the camera adores. If the industry hadn’t chewed her up and spit her out, I really think she could have made it as an actress. Fortunately, she got over the acting thing quickly, and she discovered she loves journalism. Especially if it involves reporting about Hollywood. But the fact that she loves it means she has something to lose. “I know, right? Totally amazing. And I didn’t even ask for this. I figured I had no chance—I mean, who starts with the red carpet? But they just plucked me out of the massive pile of desperation, dreams, and sweat.” I laugh. “I think they plucked you from a pile of talent.” “Pfft. You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend.” “Absolutely,” I say deadpan. “You really suck at your job, and I’m just being supportive by lying to you.” “Bitch.” “Love you, too. And, James? Congratulations.” “Thanks.” I can practically hear the grin in her voice. “Okay, I should let you prep. When’s your interview, anyway?” “I’m in the car on my way there right now.” “Oh, shit. I didn’t mean to interrupt you. Good luck. Are you pumped up? ’Cause I can pump you up. I mean, come on. High school valedictorian. Double major in electrical engineering and computer science. Four-time recipient of the Stark International Science Fellowship. CEO of Fairchild Development. Designer and engineer of over two dozen web and mobile apps. Amateur photographer, superior poker player, and all around awesome best friend.” She’s rattled all of that off at the speed of light, and now she draws a deep breath. “Whew! Did I miss anything?” I can barely talk, I’m laughing so hard. “You freak. Do you have my resume in front of you?” “Don’t be silly.” Her voice takes on an unnaturally high pitch, and I assume she’s still teasing me. “Why would I have your resume in front of me? You’re my BFF,” she says, now sounding much more normal. “Of course, I know your resume. I sleep with it by my bedside and pay homage to it every time I remember how much better your college grades were than mine.” “I love you, James.” “Back at you, Nicholas. Good luck, okay?” “Thanks.” I frown, still thinking of that odd tone in her voice. “And, James? “Yeah?” “You’re sure there’s nothing else?” “Not a thing. Why? Have you got something else?” I press a hand to my belly. A lot, I think. But nothing I’m willing to tell her over the phone. 8 After two hours of interviews and meetings, I’m exhausted but euphoric. Exhausted, because I’m pretty sure that I’ve now met every single person who works at Greystone-Branch, from the mailroom all the way up. Euphoric, because I know from Justin’s own policy that it’s only candidates the company is seriously considering who get the full-meal tour. Time is too valuable a commodity to waste precious employee minutes interviewing an unlikely candidate. In my case, I’m not applying for a job. I’d be an independent contractor. But the nature of the project—the creation of proprietary web and mobile software to link company communications and resources across the globe—will require access to not only the company’s network but also the employees. I need to understand how they currently work in order to make sure that I enhance their productivity, not detract from it. In other words, if I get this contract, I’ll be here a lot. In this office. And in Dallas. The memory of my mother’s house distracts me for a moment, and I miss something that Mr. “Please call me John” Greystone is saying. “I’m sorry? My mind was wandering. I was thinking about the architecture of your website.” “I only asked if you wanted some coffee. I thought we could talk for a few more minutes in my office, and then we’ll get you out of here.” “Just water, please.” Mr. Greystone’s assistant soon enters with a bottle of water, followed by the Vice President of Operations, Bijan Kamali. We settle in the sitting area, a corner of the large office set up with a small couch, two leather chairs, and a chrome and glass coffee table. The area reminds me of a similar section of Justin’s office, and I allow myself to relax a little, letting hope settle in. After all, they’ve taken a lot of time with me and paid a lot of attention to me. That has to be a good sign, doesn’t it? “I’ll be honest with you, Selena,” John says. “Bijan and I are very impressed, as was everyone you spoke with today.” “I’m very glad to hear that.” I keep my voice steady, but inside, I’m turning gleeful cartwheels. “I’m impressed, too. You have an incredible operation here. I’d love to play a part in helping you streamline your communications processes.” That’s not an exaggeration. Working with Greystone-Branch would be a huge opportunity for me. Not only in terms of building my business’s reputation, but also for learning how to organize and operate a business. Yes, I have Stark International as a model, but I don’t ever anticipate running a business with that many divisions. Greystone-Branch is considerably smaller, and yet still global. As far as corporate structure is concerned, I could learn a lot by working with this team. John glances toward Bijan, who nods subtly. John clears his throat and smiles at me, but this time the expression seems a little strained. “Frankly, we’re down to three candidates, and you’re all extremely qualified. At this point, we’re looking at additional factors.” “Of course,” I say, though inside, my heart is racing. What does he mean by “additional factors”? “We were hoping you could shine some light on the issue of proximity. We know you live in Los Angeles . . .” He leaves the question dangling, and I grab onto it eagerly. If this question represents the nature of their concerns, then I’m golden. “As you know, I grew up in Dallas, so coming back frequently is no hardship at all.” That, of course, is an exaggeration. But as I’m determined to exorcise the ghosts of my past, if I get this contract I’ll totally make that happen.

“Travel isn’t a problem either. I’m fortunate to have access to my husband’s personal fleet and pilot. I can be in Dallas within a few hours. And travel to other locations is just as easily arranged. Of course, if I get this job, I’ll also either buy or rent a condo nearby for the duration of the project.” I don’t usually flaunt Justin’s money—our money as he constantly reminds me—but in this case, I want John and Bijan to understand that my presence at their various locations isn’t subject to the timetables of the commercial airlines. And while it would certainly be reasonable for me to ask for reimbursement for travel costs in addition to my contract bid, because of the benefits to Fairchild Development should I land this project, I’ve already talked with Justin about not doing that simply because it makes my proposal that much more appealing. “That’s excellent to hear. And you know that we’re looking at a relatively fast time frame. You’ll be working with a team?” “I will,” I say, and I fight to keep my smile from faltering. I’d been hesitating to hire additional help until I found out about this job. Unfortunately, now it sounds as if I need the team in place in order to secure the position. “I’m looking at a team of three, including me.” I’m hoping they don’t ask for resumes of my two associates. While I’ve done preliminary interviews and have found a few promising candidates, I haven’t yet made offers to any of them. “And you’re confident about the time frame? Your recent news doesn’t change anything?” I frown, confused. “My news?” He glances again to Bijan, who slides him a manila folder. John opens it, takes out a single sheet of paper, and passes it to me. It’s a printout from a web page, and the moment I see the headline and the photograph, I freeze. “Oh,” I say stupidly when I’m once again capable of forming words. “This is—” I swallow and try again, but words aren’t coming. My head is too full of what’s on the paper I’m staring at. The headline is absurd—Soon a Starkling!—but the photograph is even worse. It’s me, passed out on the lawn of Misty’s house, my head in Justin’s lap. Suddenly, my whole body ignites as if embarrassment is a bonfire and it’s burning me alive. But what the hell do I have to be ashamed of? I know enough about photography to know that someone standing across the street took the picture with a long lens. That person should be ashamed—being nosy, selling private photographs. And the only people who know I’m pregnant are Justin and the staff at the clinic. I’m certain Dr. Cray isn’t the “unnamed source” identified in the article, but I bet the receptionist who didn’t meet my eyes when she passed me a pen to sign out yesterday earned a few extra bucks. Bitch. I swallow, draw a breath, and meet John’s and Bijan’s eyes in turn. “I didn’t realize any of this had made the papers.” “So it’s true.” The two men exchange a glance. “We’re concerned that your pregnancy may impact our timetable. Not the quality of the work,” he hurries to add. “But I’m sure you understand that we’re on a tight schedule. And with a pregnancy, things aren’t always certain. You could end up on bed rest.” “I won’t end up on bed rest,” I insist, but I see him glance down at the paper. At the image of me on the ground. You hadn’t expected to pass out, either, he seems to be saying. So how can you possibly know what’s to come? I stand, though I feel decidedly unsteady, and the fact that I’m so off balance pisses me off. Especially since when I entered this office, I believed I had the job nailed down. Suddenly, I wish I were applying for actual employment. Then they wouldn’t have even been allowed to ask about my pregnancy. But Title VII doesn’t apply to me, and if these men want to hire another candidate because my pregnancy lowers their confidence in me, then that’s their prerogative. “Gentlemen,” I say, lifting my chin. “You’ve seen my work. You’ve reviewed my proposal. I have every confidence that Fairchild Development can get this project in on time, under budget, and with exceptional quality. I look forward to hearing from you.” I nod my head, pick up my satchel, and stride from the office. If nothing else, I want the last goddamn word. More than that, though, I want to get out of the building before the tears come. Because I can feel them pressing against my eyes, and I jam my finger on the elevator button and hold my breath, praying that neither Bijan nor John follows me out. Only when I’m safely in the elevator car do I let my body sag and frustration take over. I cry all the way from the thirtieth floor to the lobby, and when I step out, I wipe away my tears, lift my head, and go to meet my driver. If he can tell that I’ve been crying, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he opens the door for me and says simply, “Back to the hotel, Mrs. Stark?” “Yes,” I say, then immediately contradict myself. “No, actually. There’s somewhere I want to go first.” I’m in a funk as the driver maneuvers the Dallas streets, and not just about the possibility of losing this contract. No, that’s only one tiny blip on a much larger radar screen. The truth is that even though I’ve been front and center in the press ever since I started dating Justin, I still haven’t developed the knack of knowing what’s going to trigger tabloid interest. And it never once occurred to me that this pregnancy would be news. Or, not news, but gossip. The kind of gossip that sells magazines, makes the rounds on social media, and has over-eager paparazzi gathering outside my office or trailing my car or lingering near the gate to our Malibu property. I made the decision to put up with it when I married Justin, and I’ve become much more adept at handling the press. For the most part, they don’t even bother us anymore. We’d been in the spotlight when the news leaked that Justin had paid me a cool million to pose nude for a portrait, of course. And then again when he’d been arrested for murder—and when the charges were dropped. Later, they’d been in our face yet again when Justin had decided to publicly reveal the history of abuse that his tennis coach had inflicted on him for so many years. That’s when Justin turned the tables and used the tabloids’ interest in him to drive sympathy toward the Stark Children’s Foundation, a nonprofit he set up to help abused and traumatized children through sports and play therapy. There’s been more press since our marriage, too, of course. Certainly, our wedding was big news, as was all the publicity and crises surrounding the Resort at Cortez, the island resort that Jackson designed for Stark Real Estate Development—and the project during which Justin—and the press—first learned that Jackson Steele was Justin Stark’s half-brother.

There’ve been blackmail attempts, too. Assholes who tell us that all we have to do to keep things like racy photos out of the public eye is pay. Justin hasn’t—not yet—choosing instead to use his resources to fight back. So far, he’s been able to thwart the threats. But one day, he might not be able to. One day, it might be our child at the center of a blackmail scheme. Our child that the paparazzi constantly follows. Our child who will be constantly watched. Constantly judged. Reviled for coming from money. Accused of being spoiled and out of touch. And as for Justin and me . . . Well, our every decision will be scrutinized, all our choices hashed out publicly. And God forbid our child ever does anything foolish, because the tabloids will eat her alive. I draw a breath, then sigh as I wipe my eyes once again. The press had shined the spotlight on Justin even before he won the Junior Grand Prix at fifteen. He was too young, too talented, and too good-looking. Perhaps they would have looked away once he retired, but then there was scandal. And after that, money and the empire he built. Every step in Justin’s life has drawn scrutiny, and I can’t imagine that will stop any time soon. Justin’s wealth is a blessing in so many ways. A concrete manifestation of his incredible talent and intellect. And it’s so damned unfair that what should feel like a boon—the ability to provide for a child in every way possible—feels so much like a curse. My phone pings, signaling an incoming text. I scramble in my leather satchel to grab it, hoping it’s Justin, but I can see immediately from the message on the lock screen that it’s not—What makes you think you can handle it? I stare at the cold, hard words and my insides twist as bile rises in my throat. I hesitate. My instinct is to just throw the damn thing back into my bag. But I don’t. I open the app so I can see who sent it. But the number is blocked, and all I have is the horrible text. I have no idea who sent it. I’ve never been particularly precious with my cell number. Mostly, I only give it to friends, but I also frequently use it for after-hours business or pass it along to important contacts. In other words, it could be anyone. Maybe it’s some bitch who resents me for having married Justin. For being pregnant with his child. Or maybe it’s one of the potential contractors for the Greystone-Branch job, pissed off after hearing the rumors that I’m one of the final candidates. Maybe it’s Sofia, and she’s not as healthy as everyone seems to think. I don’t know, and I don’t care. Except that’s a lie. I do care. I care too damn much. And as I fight back tears, the words of the text rattle around in my head, banging up against my own dark thoughts. You, a mom? You, jugglework and a family? What makes you think you can handle it, Selena? What makes you think you’re even remotely prepared for this? For any of this? “Mrs. Stark?” I jump, so startled by the driver’s words that I actually yelp. “What? What is it?” He’s turned around in his seat, facing me, and though he’s working hard to keep a professional demeanor, he can’t hide the concern on his face. He doesn’t comment on my distress, however, and I’m grateful for that kindness. “We’ve arrived,” he says as he gestures to the cemetery outside the car. “If you need me for anything at all, I’ll be waiting right here.” I smile in thanks, understanding the depth of his unspoken offer. Then I draw in a breath, grab my satchel, and step out of the car and into the Dallas heat. The cemetery covers several acres, but I know where I’m going, and I hurry along the stone path through the manicured lawn with an almost desperate determination. I don’t know why I’m so compelled to be here; all I know is that right now I need to be near my sister. I don’t realize I’m crying until I finally reach her grave and discover that I can’t read her headstonebecause my tears have blurred my vision. I brutally wipe them away, then collapse onto the damp grass right in front of her tombstone. Ashley Anne Fairchild, Beloved Daughter. I trace my fingertip over the words, a familiar frustration rising in me. I’d wanted the stone to say Beloved Sister, too, but my mother had flatly refused, saying it wasn’t appropriate. So that even now, after her death, my mother has come between my sister and me. “I miss you, Ash,” I say, as hot tears cut tracks down my cheeks. “I miss you so damn much.” I lean back, trying to control my breathing. “I’m pregnant,” I tell her. “Justin and I are going to have a baby. And you should be here, Ash. You should be with me when she’s born. You should be here to help me decorate the nursery and pick out maternity clothes for me, and tiny little baby outfits for her.” I choke on a sob. “You should be here,” I say again, my throat thick with tears. I turn away from the stone to wipe my tears, as if I don’t want her to witness the depth of my misery. And as I do, I see Justin walking between the graves toward me, his stride long and full of purpose. I say nothing. Just sit there, amazed and relieved, until he’s just inches away, kneeling on the grass in front of me. I know the driver must have contacted him, but even knowing that, his presence here feels like a miracle. “You’re here,” I say. “Where else would I be?” He brushes my tears away with his thumb. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” “Yes. No. I don’t know.” I lean against him so that his chest supports me. His arms around me give me strength, and my eyes on my sister’s grave give me purpose. And then, with a sigh, I tell him about what happened at the interview. “It was great,” I conclude. “Or it was great until they started asking me about the baby.” “Sweetheart, I’m sorry.” He kisses the top of my head, and I shift in his arms and lean back, wanting to see his face as I try to explain all the thoughts and emotions that are crashing around inside of me. “The thing is, when I left their office, I felt all twisted up. Like I was exactly where Mother wanted me to be.” I think about the text message and its suggestion that I’m not capable of handling anything now that I’m pregnant. I haven’t told Justin about it yet, partly because I don’t want him to worry, but mostly because I simply want to flush it from my mind. But the message is like something my mother would say. “Barefoot and pregnant,” I murmur. “That’s all she wanted for me. All she wanted for Ashley, too. No career. Just a husband to pamper, two kids, and a dog. So long as everything is picture-perfect on the outside, to her, the inside doesn’t much matter. All Mother cared about was the shine.” “I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but you’re not your mother.” “No,” I agree fiercely. “I’m damn sure not. And more than that, I really don’t care what she thinks.”

“But Ashley did.” I keep my eyes on the tombstone as I nod. “I loved her,” I whisper. “And I looked up to her. But she let the voice in her head get to her. She didn’t have the strength to fight it.” I turn back to face him. “I’m going to fight, Justin,” I say firmly, putting his hand on my belly. “I’m going to fight for us. For you and me and our little peanut.” “Peanut?” he repeats, obviously amused. I laugh, realizing this is the first time I’ve thought of the baby as a real person growing inside me. “Yeah,” I say. “Our sweet little peanut.” His tender smile tugs at my heart, and he pulls me close “Baby, I love you.” I sigh, content to lose myself in the comfort of his embrace. “You don’t have to worry about me,” I murmur against his chest. “Whatever it is you’re not telling me, you need to know I can handle it.” I feel his body grow tense, his reaction confirming my suspicions that he hasn’t told me everything about Sofia. “Justin, please.” But all he does is smile gently at me. “There’s nothing else, sweetheart. Really.” My stomach twists with disappointment. I know that’s not true. And I want to scream at him. Accuse him of being a damn hypocrite, because how can he say I’m strong when he’s still going out of his way to protect me? When he won’t let me share my strength with him. But I force it back. Time, I think. I just need to give him more time. And I need to get the hell away from this place. “Can we leave today?” I ask. “I want to be home. There are too many ghosts in this town.” “Of course,” he says, not quite meeting my eyes. “But there are ghosts everywhere. And we’re both going to have to get used to fighting them.” 9 I wake to the sound of running water, and roll over, groggy, to Justin’s side of the bed. It’s cold, and I sit up slowly as my fuzzy mind kicks into gear. We’re in the penthouse apartment at Stark Tower, one of our two main residences. We’d arrived home last night in time for dinner, and though I’d fully intended to help in the kitchen, I’d ended up on the sofa while Justin made us omelets and went over his weekend schedule while his assistant, Rachel, perched on a bar stool. Justin is a man of many talents, but I think what surprised me the most about him was his prowess in the kitchen, and last night, he managed to turn a simple mushroom and cheese omelet into a gourmet delight. “I’d be perkier if I could have coffee,” I’d griped, but he’d only chuckled and offered me orange juice. After Rachel left, we’d sprawled on the sofa, my feet in his lap. As old episodes of Law & Order played in the background, Justin reviewed notes for his morning meetings, and I worked on my laptop. I’d had every intention of scanning through the work emails that had piled up over the last few days, but I kept getting distracted by pregnancy websites. And why not? Until I have my first full-on doctor’s appointment next Monday, I’m all about educating myself. Even so, I managed to cull at least fifty emails—and order a copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting. All in all, it was a wonderful, domestic, comfortable evening at home. The kind of easy-going night with Justin that usually makes me smile, and then hug myself because I feel warm and safe and loved. The kind of night that usually leads to slow, easy love-making before falling asleep in each other’s arms. Not last night, though. Because sometime between the law and order parts of the program, I’d passed out completely, the bone-deep fatigue that comes with pregnancy drawing me down like a stone into a deep, dark sea. I remember Justin’s arms holding me, my body tucked against his chest as he gently carried me to bed. I’d snuggled closer, my desire to slip back under warring with my desire for this man. “Make love to me,” I’d whispered, my words slurred in exhaustion. “Sleep, baby,” he’d murmured. “I’ll find you in your dreams.” I’d curled up with my pillow, satisfied at the time with his answer. Then, it had made perfect sense. I was lost and content in this dreamy netherworld; of course, I would want Justin there with me. Now, though, I feel as though I’ve been cheated. I’m awake and alone and what had been a vague desire last night is now a raging, burning need. I want the feel of his hands on me. His mouth crushing against mine. I want him to tear off my thin nightgown and take me hard on the floor. I crave the feel of his weight upon me as he pounds inside me, taking me higher and higher until I explode in his arms, my orgasm so wild and violent it rips me apart. I need it—need him. And I have no idea if it’s because there has never been a moment when I don’t want Justin’s touch. Or if my hormones are making me so damn horny, I’m going to burst if he doesn’t fuck me hard right now. I don’t know, and I don’t care. All I know is that he’s not beside me. And all I want is Justin. I toss the sheet aside and get out of bed, then pad barefoot to the bathroom. The shower stall is probably my favorite feature of the entire apartment. For one thing, it’s huge. But it stays warm and steamy because the glass goes all the way up the ceiling. Right now, Justin’s inside, but the glass is so fogged that I can only see a vague outline of him. I stand there for a moment, enjoy the view and letting my imagination fill in the blanks. But I want more than imagination, and so I peel off the nightgown and let it drop onto the floor. I don’t usually sleep in one unless there are guests in the house, but I’d been wearing it on the couch last night, and Justin hadn’t undressed me when he put me to bed. Now, I stand naked and watch the shape of him move in the steam. I’d been aroused even before I entered this room, simply from the thought of him. But now, seeing him in this wet heat, my body is on overdrive. My nipples are hard, my sex clenching with need. I want his touch—and I damn well intend to have it. His back is to me when I open the door, his face in the pounding water. I’ve let a wash of cool air in, though, and he turns to face me. As he does, I see the heat flare in his eyes. More interesting, though, is the way his cock hardens, the immediacy of his reaction making absolutely clear that Justin has no objections to my joining him here this morning. He opens his mouth to say something, but I press a finger over his lips, then step closer. He’s almost finished his shower, so his body is no longer slick with soap. I consider that a good thing, because as I kiss his chest, he tastes fresh and clean.

one' Z�c

[matthewwilliamcharles]

Tour Journal 1/31 -2/7/2017

Hey all, here is the tour journal from my last tour.  Overall the tour was great, saw lot’s of old friends and met some new ones.  Most people I met at the shows had a positive attitude, always a couple bad apples but no major rock star ego’s. Mainly groups of artists enthusiastic about playing and supporting DIY music!!  

Tuesday January 31st / Driving day from Philadelphia, PA to Richmond, VA.  I packed up and left for tour Tuesday evening. No shows that night, I had four shows in North Carolina starting the next day. Richmond was an easy half way point for the first drive. My long time friend and ex band-mate Lewis let me crash at his place.  I got in around 10-10:30 pm. and we proceeded to drink beers and catch up through most of the night, although both of us were exhausted and cut ourselves off before heading into the wee hours.

Wednesday February 1st / Got up that morning and headed out to get coffee.  Lewis was going to run errands and meet back up with me.  It was only about 4 hours to Fayettville, NC were my first show was, and I didn’t need to be there until 7-8pm, so I wasn’t in a hurry.  I broke out my laptop in the cafe to catch up with emails.  To my dismay I got the early morning notification from the club, The Rock Shop, that the show had been cancelled.  The message was sent to my Facebook “Band Page” and stated “ What's up man? Are you good for playing Art Attack next week on the 8th. We have to close this week. Thanks”.  For those of you who don’t know, this is not how tours work. I had booked this tour months in advance, and had this show booked back in November.  I knew that having all my dates booked solid was too good to be true.  My first reply back to the club was, “ No, I'm on tour right now, I will not be anywhere close to Fayettville, NC on the 8th....I've been sending messages the last two weeks to get details, why am I only getting a message now?”  I didn’t receive a reply to this message.  When Lew met back up with me at the coffee shop I told him what happened.  He said, “Well I guess that means you don’t have to play tonight”.  But no, I had to look for another show, I take this time off to play music.  Granted a day lounging with my friends around Richmond sounds great, but there would be no way to ease my frustration than to search, and hopefully find another show.  I started researching online, first Richmond to see if there was anything I could likely hop on, but no luck.  I checked out surrounding areas, then in North Carolina.  It looked like there could be something I could squeeze on in Carborro, NC, possibly Chapel Hill.  I sent out some messages, we grabbed lunch and then I headed down to North Carolina.  First place I stopped was Carborro, NC, which for a small town it was extremely difficult to park on a Wednesday evening.  The venue 2nd Wind had a music showcase, but when I talked to the bartender it seemed like chances were slim and that the night was booked solid.  I went back to my car to regroup, I found a pop punk show in Chapel Hill.  I sped over there, basically the same town, and stopped at what I think was club 506.  I told the door guy my situation, and he was very sympathetic, having played music and been in the same situation before.  But the event was handled all by an outside promoter, and they had no pull.  I bounced around town for another hour or so and ended up a couple blocks down the street at The Cave.  I had heard about the Cave for years, and by the sight of the place, (dark dank punk rock dive) I thought my odds might be pretty good.  The bartender, who was a young punk kid, was super helpful with suggestions, but told me there was nothing he could do, if he had the authority to throw me on the show he would.  He was in charge of door and sound, no promoter in house, basically told me I was SOL.  I left and tried his suggestions, but nobody had any openings.  I returned to the Cave, basically having no where to else to go, hoping that maybe the situation in the Cave had somehow changed.  Same result, although he gave me some more ideas. I had found an open mic in Raleigh (45 min away) and he told me to try and hit up their sister bar Slim’s.  So I was off again, making my way to Slim’s, as that sounded like the best option.  I walked in the bar and struck up a conversation with the bartender..  I told him my situation, but there was nothing going on that night, but told me there was a show down the street at Kings.  Immediately though a patron that was sitting beside me heard my story and offered me a beer.  He said, “You lost your show, I know the road is tough, least I can do is buy you a beer”.  So I prolonged my attempt at trying to hit up Kings down the street and enjoyed a beer with my new friend.  After I took down the beer I walked a couple blocks to Kings, which for one had a $12 cover. I could also hear metal/hardcore bands playing in the distance, this was not a show I was going to be able to hop on.  I raised the white flag, and retreated to Slim’s.  I decided I would drink a couple more beers.  Money was tight this trip, and not having a show on the first day with no opportunity to sell my stuff or get some tips was a back breaker.  Granted I could have busked, I could have played my cards differently but this is what happened.  I moved on to my next game, which is known as “find a couch or floor for the night”.  I was in a bar with what seemed to be a friendly group, and I figured if I could start some conversation, make some friends that could offer me some hospitality.  I made some idle conversation with some folks, for the most part people were friendly but I could quickly tell this was going nowhere.  After beer number two I decided to find the nearest truck stop outside the city and set up there for the night.  After arriving at the truck stop and “settling in”, I started feeling frustrated about day number one of tour.  I decided to write the owner of the club one more time and make sure I let him know how much of an asshole he was.  Usually I don’t resort to this, not the first time it has happened to me, but usually I end up finding something!  Failing made me angry so I wrote,” Hey man, I have spent months organizing and putting this tour together. I spend hours everyday trying to piece this together, and have worked extra hours to finance this whole thing myself. To have a show cancelled the day of, without apology or any sense of regret is the shittiest thing you can do to a touring musician. I understand things happen, and that running a business, especially a bar/music venue is not easy and not always profitable. But to do this to me, without any time to throw something else together, and not even show sympathy is absolutely garbage. I discovered this message after driving hours towards Fayetville, exited to have the opportunity to play in front of some new people.  At the very least I deserved an apology or a legit explanation.”  Long story short he told me he had a death in the family and that’s why they closed, and then he somehow blamed me for cancelling the follow up gig.  He did apologize, and I apologized for giving him shit and showed sympathy for his loss, but said if he had just told me in the first place I would have never reacted the way that I did.

Thursday February 2nd / After waking up at a Raleigh truck stop I made my way into the city.  I had pretty much all day to kill and my next show was in Raleigh.  I didn’t do much, except walk around a lot, finding cheap things to eat.  Thought about busking, but didn’t want to move my car from the free parking spot that I had found, and didn’t want to lug my heavy guitar case across town to the prime busking spots (which it’s illegal to busk in Raleigh without a permit, not sure how strict the enforcement is). I was glad to see musicians at the venue early, ready to load in.  I met Mikka and the Nevernauts, my internet friends of the past year, finally meeting up with them in person.  The door guy for the venue was upbeat and positive, respectful to the bands, telling jokes and keeping things lively.  All the bands were on time, and no bullshit when we talked about the lineup.  Deep South the Bar was the name of the place, and I would definitely play there again.  The bands had promoted the show, certainly wasn’t packed, but there were people there. In other words it blew the previous nights experience out of the water.  Raw Dog played first, and then they all stuck around for the rest of the show, standing up front for all of the bands.  I played second, a little rusty and out of sorts. I hadn’t played since Monday and it showed. Still felt great to play and I got my shit together by the end of the set.  Born Again Heathens played next, awesome Celtic punk, bagpipes and all.  Then Nevernauts headlined and those guys are awesome.  We all took a group picture at the end of the night, it was a solid experience.  I made some gas money, I had a couple opportunity's for places to stay from people I met at the show, but most likely would have been subjected to an all night party, and I wanted to be able to wake up and drive the next morning.  So I headed back on the highway and hit the next rest stop on the way to Asheville and crashed there for the night.

Friday February 3rd / I woke up from a truck stop on route 40 just outside of Raleigh for the second night in a row.  Got an early start so I could visit my cousins in Hickory, NC on the way.  Left Hickory around 3-4 pm, arrived in Asheville and met up with my friends Tom and Lauren around 6 pm.  Pretty much took it easy and relaxed until I headed to the Burger Bar a couple hours later.  The Burger Bar is a super tight space, and by tight I mean comfortably cramped, especially when you have musicians setting up their gear next to the bar.  The guys from Skunk Ruckus were extremely hospitable and offered any help I needed.  Burger Bar is basically do your own show, no sound guy, basically set things up the way you want to.  Lilli Jean opened up, she had a sax player for accompaniment and the drummer from Skunk Ruckus sat in on their set on a last minute offer.  The whole set sounded surprisingly good, the drummer knew just what to do.  He offered to do the same for my set, which I was honestly tempted but I decided to go ahead with my regular setup.  It was a good set, and some folks in the audience tipped me in “burger shots”, which is a shot of bloody Mary mix, followed by a shot of whisky, followed by a pickle back.  Skunk Ruckus, which I could only describe as a mix between mountain music and psychobilly, started playing and brought tons of energy to the small little Asheville Bar.  There set was a lot of fun, old folks, hippies and punks were all dancing together.  I had a $25 bar tab, and a friend who offered to drive me back to his house if I got too drunk.  Either way I took full advantage of both offers and the remainder of my night was a bit hazy.  

Saturday February 4th / As I said before the remainder of the night was hazy, but I had awoke to see that I was able to make it upstairs and take advantage of one of the beds that was offered to me (I wisely choose the bottom bunk).  My friends made me breakfast, and we spent most the day watching Rocky III and trying to recover from what I had perceived as a mild hangover.  Eventually Tom gave me a ride back to my car, at which point I started to realize, from the uneasiness in my stomach, that I was going to have more trouble functioning than I thought.  Once I got to my car, I decided to get supplies for my drive to Wilmington; gas, coffee and snacks.  I almost decided I needed a bloody mary, but thought better of it and got a V8 instead.  Leaving the town of Asheville turned out to be a challenge, the driving was making me nauseous and I was trying to mentally overcome it.  I made it back to route 40, slammed the rest of my V8 and pulled over at the next exit I could.  My body was turning itself off, I just wanted to stay awake long enough to make it to the truck stop.  I parked, turned off the car, reclined the drivers seat and took a much needed power nap.  I woke up an hour later, feeling revived, thankfully without any vomiting.  Now I could drive, and I made the 5 hour trek to Wilmington, NC.  The show that night was at The Zoo, a house show venue.  I had never played there but stayed at the house the last time I came through.  My buddy Dirt from Poking Holes set up the show.   Sidney Dively opened up, playing originals on guitar and Uke, reminding me at times of Mazzy Star and The Smiths.  Poking Holes played next, old timey folk/punk.  It was the first show as a two piece, adding a washboard player.  I played next, this was probably my favorite show of the whole tour, not the biggest turnout but everyone at the show came for the show, not just to party!  Rumble Tramp from Boone, NC closed the show out, really cool set, reminds me of bands like Rosa and other Planet X bands of the era.  

Sunday February 5th / I got some much needed rest and headed out to Richmond, VA the next morning.  I arrived around 3 pm and I met up with my friends at the GWAR bar around to corner from the show, which was at Condemned Island (house venue).  My buddy Matt through this show together. After we originally agreed to set the show up earlier that month lot’s of road blocks arose, so we knew it was not going to be the most ideal situation. This was just one of those shows. It was on Super Bowl Sunday, and apparently you can’t compete with that.  At one point I had asked,”Wasn’t Jim Ramirez supposed to play this show”, and I heard somebody reply, “Oh yeah, I think I was supposed to pick him up”.  My buddy Mike Jones played, who goes by Aged Out.  He was awesome as usual.  I was told I would go after the next act, which it was over an hour later before they went on and a couple of my friends had left by that point.  I played for a few people, one of my drunken friends successfully alienated what remained of the crowd by screaming at me about fellatio and other un-music related topics during my set.  My set turned into a jam session with me and Mike, trying to remember how to play various cover songs and songs from our old band.  At one point I believe we were told we had to sober up and leave. Granted we knew the show had to be over early because Matt’s band had to play a show downtown.  Either way leaving was difficult, but we managed to succeed, not without my drunken friend taking a leak in front of their house and getting yelled at (Yeah, you were “that guy”).  I’ll go ahead now and skip to the end.  We all ended up at Mike and Kensey’s house.  After people either got a cab home or went to bed, I tried to sleep while Mitch and Kensey stayed up listening to country music until 4:30 am.

Monday February 6th / Mike took me out to breakfast at 821 Cafe, then brought me back to pick up my car.  I had managed to get enough rest, so the 6 house drive to Charleston, WV wasn’t too bad.  The show was at the Empty Glass, a venue that has been around for a long time.  It was actually an open mic night and I was the featured act, getting to play a full set at whatever the prime time of the night would be.  This was a great open mic, people were super friendly and energetic.  People danced for all the acts, I got tipped out well and people bought me more drinks than I was able to drink (my stomach was starting to rebel against me at that point).  I got offered a place to crash no too far from the venue.  I had to decline the whisky and beer nightcap and I passed out easily on a recliner chair in their living room.

Tuesday February 7th / I woke up in a sweat, not because I was sick but because it was 70 degrees outside, extremely warm for Charlseton, WV in February.  They had turned off the heat at some point during the night, but I was still sleeping in my sleeping bag.  It was almost 10 am., and I had a lot of driving ahead of me so I got my stuff together quickly, said my goodbyes and was off.  Fairly uneventful drive, other than I didn’t have any service on my phone until I exited West Virginia.  I’m proud to say that unlike many humans nowadays, I am able to read a map and do not require a GPS system to tell me where to go!  The show was in Ashland, PA at The Drunken Monkey.  My buddy Tyler from Condition Oakland put this show on.  A pretty great line up, Ace & The Kings played first, a mix of originals and classic punk covers. Churches & Trains, another one man band act, who I will hopefully do a weekender with at some point, played next.  He does a similar stuff to me, but much more towards a folk/country end of the spectrum. I played next, and was followed by Tedd Hazzard who has an extensive collection of catchy, screamy folk punk songs.  Tyler - Condition Oakland played last. Me and Tyler had played together a lot recently, and he gave me the ok to take off early, which I was happy to do, although I did catch some of his set.  I’ll just say that all of these guys are worth a listen, all have albums (save Ace & The Kings) that you can stream/buy on bandcamp.  This was the 3rd time in three months I have played this area of Pennsylvania, I believe Wyoming Valley is what they call the region?  Either way I am starting to feel like a local, so this kind of served as my homecoming show, only a couple hours from Philadelphia.  At this point all parts of my body and mind had gained some tour tolerance and the 2 hour drive at nighttime back to my house in Philadelphia was a piece of cake.  I managed to get to bed by 2:30am, although waking up the next day proved to be rough. 

That’s the tour journal, no out of this world crazy stories.  I don’t typically attract that kind of mess.  For me it’s all about playing music and making connections with people.  Things don’t happen for me when I stay in one place, it’s not how I work and not how I like to live. 

I feel bad, so many past tour journals I have slacked on and never posted. I feel I should go back and pick through them and post them up too.  Time is always the issue, I’m always involved with several things at once, and it’s always a struggle for me to get everything I want to get done, done...Anyways stay posted and thanks for reading!