#the 3pm storm that would roll in every afternoon and my family would sit on the porch and watch the dark clouds move in

[toherlover]

it’s 2:30am in nyc and i just heard THUNDER. i missed that soft rumble so much:,) i was ticked i couldn’t fall asleep but then i heard that and suddenly its like i stayed awake for a reason

[typinggently]

I'm still obsessed with that Wincest scenario you came up, based on Coast to Coast, with one brother behind bars and the other free (esp if the one locked up is Sam? Wow)

babe thank you sm...🖤✨✨ honestly the concept is super intriguing to me, too — I love when they’re forced to interact with others independently from each other, I love how weird they are. Honestly, with that concept you could go serial killer AU (which was my first thought, very delicious), or just regular them? Weirdos. Either way, I hope you don’t mind that I’ll take this as an opportunity to, you know —

.🖤.

When you work at a prison, you see all kinds of shit going down during visitor's hours — break ups, reunions, first dates. Tears, laughter, fits of violent rage. You see a lot, you get used to it. And honestly, this here would be endearing.

Would be, if they weren't so fucking odd about it.

It's been about a month now, and the guy's been — difficult. Not like he's out to pick fights, no. Not him. He spends most of his time quietly doing a task or other, always silently busy with something. At this point, they’ve given up on trying to figure out what exactly he's been doing and how he keeps getting his hands on all these tasks and duties, but there's basically not a moment in time when the man isn't doing something. Silently, keeping to himself. But he's pretty, alright? He's got the tan, the handsome face, the trim waist. Guy like him at a place like this — well. So they, the guards, they kinda watch him, watch the way the others watch him. Placing nonverbal bets. Except —

Except, five days in he breaks Trooper's jaw, dislocates Anderson's shoulder and smashes Big Tiger's nose to bits. It's a fucking mess, blood on the floor, shoes slipping on wet tiles, men howling and stumbling, tripping over each other, and the guy at the centre of the storm, tall, pretty, dripping blood. Self-Defense, arguably. Definitely, actually, and by the looks of it, he could’ve done a lot worse but chose not to. So yeah. He's difficult.

It's been about a month now and the other men usually avoid him, let him be pretty and silent in peace. He doesn’t seem too bothered by it, though. Doesn’t try to rise through the ranks despite the fact that he proved he could, easily. Doesn’t open his mouth for more than two words at a time, in fact, letting attempts at conversation slip and drop from him like rain from a lotus flower. Except for Tuesday afternoons, that is. Visiting hours.

Because every Tuesday, 3pm on the dot, the brother will come in. Drop dead gorgeous, tall, summer-sweet ease in every move. Show stopper, that one. He'll sit down, hands folded on the tabletop, shoulders back. Right across from the glass where the guy waits, mirror image. He’ll sit down and open his mouth.

"Look at you," he'll say. "Fuck, I'm sorry, man. This is my fault, isn't it?" That's the usual, of course. Except this guy's pretty like a doll and just as cool, saying the words with the conviction of someone reciting a poem. One could think he’s doing it for an audience, except his eyes don’t seem to register anything in the room that’s not the other guy, hands folded on the tabletop, shoulders back.

"Fuck, baby, 's all my fault, huh?" Face cut from marble. "Let you play with those guns, they always say that oughta mess a kid up in the head. But how are we supposed to know, right? Hell, you never had anyone to teach you good and proper, just me.” Absent father, vet who brought guns and a history of violence into the family, then left. Tragic story, but one has to wonder how it only ever affected just one of them. And for all of those expressions of guilt, the brother is perfectly innocent. Never hurt a fly, apparently, which is at odds with what the judge had to say about the tall one, at odds with what he’s not quite saying now.

“Shoulda known, baby boy." And that's - it's a bit weird. Baby boy, Handsome, Sugar. He says Princess, once, and the other one cracks a smile. Exhales through his nose, flicks his head to the side and the corner of his mouth twitches. Not a word from him, but the brother's pink around the ears, sniffs. "Ah, Sammy, don't gimme that look. Make a guy blush." He doesn't call him Princess again.

"Was it the fuckin' shit you been taking? Break my heart, why don’t you? You said you were clean." - "Clean? Nah, not me." They stare at each other like it's a joke, except no one's laughing. And of course he was tested, right when he came in. The kid hasn't touched pills, syringes, powders in months.

"I'm glad they caught you, man. You were scaring me, baby boy, with the guns and the silver and the chanting at night. They'll fix you right up, I promise. Send you out as a changed man, do a better job of that than I ever could." And he never mentioned that in court, it kinda contradicts some of the other shit he’s reciting, but no one knows what it means. Chanting. The guy sits on his bed at night, sometimes, staring at thin air, a shadow in the dark with glittering eyes, but no one's been smooth enough to sneak a glance at his lips to check if he's whispering.

"Sugar, I shoulda done better by you. You're my baby boy, I shoulda seen it. Always too smart for your own good, baby, too sharp. Shoulda kept you on a tighter leash, kept you closer. Kept you away from those bad influences. Fuck, not like I don't know you like to put your dick where it doesn't belong. Call that nature and nurture, huh?" That’s — yeah, that’s another thing that doesn’t make sense. The guy worked alone, not a trace of any kind of influence to be found. No one but the brother, who’s got a spotless white vest, who’s doing nothing but prove his sorrow, two hours at a time.

And then visitor's hours are over and they get up simultaneously, mirror images, and turn to leave. Neither of them says a word of goodbye, never. As if it’s self-evident that next Tuesday, they’ll be back on opposite sides of that glass, hands folded on the table top, shoulders back. And they are, again and again and again, until one day, neither of them shows up.

-

("Next time," Sam says as he balls up his third wet wipe and drops it into the little trash bag with the others, tinted pink and smelling of iron, "you go in. The food fucking sucked."

"Aw, baby," Dean purrs, "I'll make it up to you. Besides - you look cute in apricot. Your colour, I say."

"Fuck off." Sam shakes his head, but the corner of his mouth is twitching into a smile and he melts into familiar leather seats. Hot with adrenaline, smoke in his hair and sweat shimmering on his cheeks, his temples.

Dean takes his eyes off the road to stare at him, his gaze heavy and greedy, like they haven’t seen each other in months. "So, you make any new friends?" Sam hums, drops his head back, undoes the zipper of his jumpsuit. Rolls his eyes, too, not that Dean would notice. “Yeah, lots.” Dean clicks his tongue, hums, deep and dirty in his throat. “That’s my boy.”)

-

Gotta be all that coco, ayy? Playin' too much of that GTA Playin' too much of that Dr. Dre Doom, Quake, where'd you get the gun from, eh? Really think that metal gonna make you safe? Playing peek-a-boo with the devil these days Black cap back with a trench coat, ayy Living in the valley cuttin' porno tapes

[bike42]

April 13-15, 2021 IAT Heading South

The funny thing about Spring in Wisconsin is it can be variable. After two weeks of amazing warm weather, we’re back up North in the cold. It’s actually “normal,” weather for April, but after what we’ve had recently, it’s kind of hard to go back. Actually, it was perfect weather for hiking, we just had to keep moving.

This time, we’re staying in the Holiday Inn Express in Antigo, WI (population 7780). I had a Waunakee Chamber Board meeting via Zoom early Tuesday morning, so Jeff and I drove up late Monday night so I’d be able to take that call before joining the gang.  The hotel experience is different than when we’re together in a cabin, but we can’t always have everything perfectly aligned.

Kent had shoulder replacement surgery about two weeks ago, so this hotel option worked out well for Kent and Lynn too.  He can’t hike “off road” for a bit (risk of falling), so he’ll hang out while Lynn hikes with us.  I will say it felt odd not having him along on the hike.  They arrived at the hotel early Tuesday morning, and Lynn rode with us to rendezvous at the start with Dan, Tam and Gary who had already left a car where we’d finish our Tuesday hike.

There were a few snow flurries in the air as we set off hiking just after 10am.  We all dressed in layers, but the 34 degrees with a high of 40 caught me a bit off guard and I had to get creative and layer in some clothes that I’d brought for hanging out in the evening!

Everyone started out in gaiters, which was good as it wasn’t long until we were detouring around or splashing through puddles.  In fact, as we were traversing around 4H Camp Susan, the road was completely submerged so we hacked our way into the woods, up a hill, and bushwhacked back down to the trail.

A little more than three miles, and we were crossing Hwy 45 – which marked the end of the Highland Lakes Segment and the start of the Summit Moraine Segment.

We came upon the Jack Lake ski trails area, and a nice little warming shelter with a porta-potty.  It had a stove and wood – we could have had a fire if we’d needed to warm up.  We were glad to have a picnic table and took an extended break there.  The terrain was like other cross-country ski areas we’d hiked before – nice wide-open trails, but hilly!

After a few easy miles, we came to a fancier warming shelter called the Spychalla Lodge.  We didn’t need another break, but we took one anyway.

From there, we continued on to Veteran’s Memorial Park. My folks had checked this out already, so I knew to expect cute little cabins and a nice campsite – I thought we were just a few weeks too early for camping, however – plus we needed Wi-Fi for a few conference calls.  Just outside the campground, we entered the Langlade County Arboretum, where all the trees were labeled – we found it to be quite educational.  The trail wound around several beautiful lakes:  Game, High, Low and Jack Lakes – said to be named by card-playing loggers that had previously inhabited this area.

Our guide book warned us of possible issues with floating bogs and beaver dams, but we had no issues.  We arrived at our end point for the day about 3PM – could have gone further, but Jeff and I had a Zoom call to be on at 6:30PM that evening so we’d planned for just over 11 miles today.

It was a windy day, but we were mostly protected in the trees – the sound of the wind in the high pines was awesome.  While it never got warm (although Gary was hiking in a t-shirt), it was a pleasant day.  The woodland flowers were just beginning to bloom, but they were advanced enough to use my “Picture This” app to help identify them.  The forest and lakes were alive with the sounds of birds including sandhill cranes, geese, several kinds of ducks and I really loved the sounds of the Ruffed Grouse as they were “drumming,” to attract females or ward off challenging males.

Back to the hotel, and we walked over to the Bowling Alley across the parking lot – always a fun experience and the place was hopping, and the food was ok.

Wednesday morning, we awoke to snow on the cars, and the temperature was 33 degrees as we set out.  I was the navigator, but wasn’t paying attention as Gary, Lynn and I were in a deep conversation about Waunakee’s Community Study on race ... so we missed a turn and saw a bit more of Langlade County!

We did the car drop, and at the start, there was a moss-covered stump that I’d photographed Tuesday afternoon – what a contrast to now find it snow covered!!

We set out at a brisk pace, and quickly finished the last 3.5 miles of the Summit Moraine segment.  The terrain was mostly wide, grassy rolling roads, but then it turned and climbed along a ridge.  Someone had built steps out of large rocks – the first time I can recall seeing that. I imagine it was a lot of work to build that, but made the climb easier. We skirted several beautiful lakes, and saw a beautiful DCA site.

The trail paralleled Highway A for a stretch, where we got a few honks from cars going past.  We crossed the highway and began the Lumbercamp Segment.  The trail went through the Peters March State Wildlife Area, and I expected it to be wet, but aside from an occasional large puddle in the low spot on the trail, it wasn’t bad.  No one got wet feet today!

We walked along lumber roads, mostly grass covered thankfully. We only came upon a short stretch where there was active logging with equipment present but no one working today.  The roads there were muddier, but nothing like the mud soup that we’d experienced several weeks ago on the Highland Lakes Segment!  

I slowed my pace a bit and immersed in the peace of the surrounds – enjoying seeing the new growth of the trees and flowers, and listening to the cacophony of the birds.

After six miles, we searched out a place to stop for lunch. We’d been spoiled yesterday coming upon several shelters and areas with picnic tables!  We finally spotted a downed tree, and Jeff got out his saw and lopped off a few branches to make room for the seven of us.  It made us all think about the lunch we had sitting on a log atop a mountain in Slovenia a few years ago!

We continued trekking, on the lookout for the “Hillbilly Hilton” that we’d read about in our guidebook.  Its all that remains from the Norem Lumber Camp which operated from 1920 to 1938.  The camp originally had several log structures, but the only remnant is the root cellar, which has been renovated (?) into a respite for hikers.  There were several sleeping platforms, a table and shelves with various things that had left behind.  Unfortunately, there was a lot of trash both inside and outside.  In the event of severe weather, it’d be a good place to take shelter, but I’d have been more comfortable in a tent versus sleeping inside there!!

We had another snack, and the guys kicked into turbo mode, with Gary issuing a self-challenge to finish the hike by 3pm.  Tam, Lynn and I hiked a more moderate pace, stopping to check out the ramps (wild onion, or wild leek) – the forest was full of them, and I’d never seen them growing in Wisconsin before.  Made us wish we were cooking dinner tonight!  

The trail left the primitive road and headed up of high-relief hummocky topography.  Once again, we found ourselves stumbling over roots and rocks, which actually was a welcomed change from the monotony of the forest roads.  We came upon the beautiful Baker Lake, with a steep boat launch and a wooden slide to launch a canoe or kayak – would be a great secluded place to paddle!

From there, we climbed up a steep hill to Hwy-52 and the endpoint of our segment (and the guys patiently waiting).

We hiked over 16 miles today, in just under 7 hours. Great pace, but not too challenging. Feels great to be able to put in these longer distances.  Gary commented that we had “rain, snow, sun, and wind; everything but locusts!”  All in all, a great day.

We picked up the car at the start and got back to the hotel about 4:30pm, where Kent was waiting for us.  He walked around Antigo, but reported it was much colder and windier than what we’d experienced in the protection of the forest.  Since we had a Zoom call scheduled with Donovan of Embark Explorations (our Kilimanjaro guide company) at 7pm, we decided to head out to dinner right away.  Tam found the Fifth Avenue Restaurant in downtown Antigo that had a good-looking menu and great reviews, so we headed there.  Like most placed up north, they’re a bit casual with COVID restrictions and masks seemed to be optional and they had no problem with our group of 7 people sitting at one table.

We had a great dinner, lots of food, my favorite Leinenkugel Creamy Dark beer, and Jeff and I got pie to go from the Dixie Diner next door (same ownership – same family operating both places for 75 years).  

After dinner, we went back to our “suite” at the Holiday Inn Express and huddled around Jeff’s laptop for our call with Donovan (and George Sanchez, our BrightStar colleague from Austin TX who will be joining us in Africa).  Donovan and his wife have a pact to live somewhere else in the world every five years. They’d lived in Tanzania at the base of Kilimanjaro, and are now living in Guatemala so he was logged in from there. The call went well, but a storm was approaching there – we could see the lighting in his background window, and as he predicted, he lost power towards the end of the call.  We learned enough to get super excited for our September trek! I’m so thankful that Gary suggested this IAT adventure to help get us so comfortable with multi-day trekking and test out our cold weather gear in preparation for all the weather we’ll encounter on our 9 days on the mountain in Tanzania.

Thursday, we woke to clearer skies, but still cool – the sunshine makes all the difference, mentally as much as physically.  An easy car drop, we found ourselves at the start of Kettlebowl and hiking down into the bowl by 7:50AM.

The road opened up at the base of the Kettlebowl Ski Area, a nice little hill with some short, steep sections, served by several rope-tows, so that made me think of the nearby Paul Bunyan Ski Hill where I learned to ski!

Kettlebowl is a segment I’d read about as one where people had trouble getting lost so I was a bit nervous. It was rated a 4 / 4 so that got our attention as well.  In reality, it was mostly wide forest roads, with numerous intersections.  Perhaps in full leaf out, some of the signage is obscured, but we had no issues.  We did have over 1000 feet in elevation gain, but easier to do with wide grassy paths versus narrow rocky trails.

 Our group set off fast, which helped warm us up on the cold morning. After a mile, the layers started coming off.  After about 3 miles though, I backed off a bit to enjoy the hike a bit more.  Most of this area had been logged long ago, and has a successional forest of aspen and birch.  Without leaves, we could really see through the trees – lots of hills, kettles, large rocks.  We didn’t see wildlife, but I’m sure they saw us!

After about 5 miles we had a break – I went into the trees to find a large rock to sit on while I enjoyed the coffee I’d brought along with a fig bar.  I really enjoyed the tranquility of being “alone” in the forest, knowing Jeff and my friends were just over the ridge – not exactly out of ear shot, so I had my “adventure with security” moment.  I honestly cannot imagine doing these treks alone, but many people do.  Our group is so compatible too, its ok for some to head out fast and work on cardio, and for others to linger back and talk or just enjoy the solace of the hike.

We completed the nearly 10-mile trek well before noon.  We’d left two cars there, so Gary and Lynn headed back to Antigo to pick up Kent at the hotel, while Jeff and I drove Dan and Tam back to their car.  We all met up at the Dixie Diner in Antigo for a hearty lunch.  I was thinking cheeseburger of course, but their special today was a Pastie – either beef or chicken variety.  My love of dough led me to choose that option – it was good, but very different than what I was used to.  It had large chunks of beef and potatoes, while I’m used to more of finely diced version, more like a hash stuffed in a pastry.  

After lunch, we drove back to the cemetery where the Kettlebowl segment ended to begin what’ll be a 30-mile connecting route (CR) – through the end of the Guthook West portion and onto the Central portion of the app!  Since we had a great day and we were all feeling good, we decided to knock off 5 miles of the CR, and Kent walked with us – we felt complete as a group again!

I’d developed a small blister on my right heel yesterday, that was unusual.  This morning’s hike, even though I’d had a Band-Aid on it, expanded it to quarter size.  It didn’t prevent me from hiking; I hardly thought about it.  But I’ll need to work on route cause (probably will have to give up pedicures and my foot softening lotion and build up my calluses before September)!

We had a fast 5 miles back to the tiny village of Polar, then a shuttle back to the cars and we were all on our way home.  We’re still a 2.5-hour drive to our home – getting closer as the “crow flies,” but its still a remote location with small county roads to drive to get to our locations.  After our 4 days next month, we’ll be within two hours – still too far for day trips, but that will come this summer.

[magdathemadam-blog]

What a day

Today was, well, something of a mixed bag. It began as it usually does, I woke just before my alarm and pop out of bed. I keep it on the other side of the room so I have to get up to turn it off.  I stumbled around for a few minutes, awake but unwilling. Since I didn’t have class until 1, I decided to go back to sleep until 9. This is always a mistake. I wake up ready to meet the world (usually) and should stay up until nap time. (I only sleep for a few hours at night and few more hours in the afternoon) I slept until 12:40, make up with a raging migraine, the kind that wraps around your head, telling you that sleep is your only option, but the more you sleep the worse it gets. My eyes feel cloudy, my throat and mouth are dry. Part of me wants to skip my 30- minute singing lesson, but the word Dicipline is printed across my white board in all caps. Its the one thing I lack and what I wish to gain. I throw myself together and make it to class, 5 minutes late but there. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining but it isn’t hot. A soft breeze carries the scents of new life, melted snow and pine. Every inhale is a pleasant bath that washes away all impurities. My headache is gone within a minute of being outside. I have an urge to stay outside, to cling to the free air. Still, Discipline. I go inside.  I love my professor. A wide hipped, small chested woman with curly amber hair, cut into an asymmetrical a line. She has a pure, sweet voice that I could listen to all day. We spend the first ten minutes chatting, laughing about our lives.Then, we practice. The first time is always the roughest. I struggle to stay on. It’s the change in note, from deep to high or high to deep. If the change is gradual, I can do it. If its sudden, I struggle. This is the reason we’ve chosen scarborough fair. The key is higher than I’ve ever done, but my professor insisted that I could do it. After three weeks of practice, I can hit all the notes and my lungs no longer struggle to hold them.  I love the way she encourages me. Tells me that she’s impressed, admits whens she does things wrong. She tells me when I’m wrong and gently moves me back to center. I can’t help but think back to every other music instructors I've had, to the man who made me hate my voice.I don't do so with the bitter scorn I used to. I smile. Shes never told me I sound like a rodent or compared me to a dying animal. Instead, she there to adjust my voice, tells me that its like an instrument, with fine tuning anyone can sing well. With fine tuning, my voice can be great. She points out the things she likes, what others will like,. We end with a reminder that next week I’ll perform. I’m looking forward to it, but I do feel a bit of nerves stir in my stomach. I’ve sang in front of people a few times, I love to be in front of an audience.  I wander down to trio, the best place to get lunch and feed myself. Chili cheese dog on a slice of wheat bread. I spend some time down there, shooting the breeze with the instructors and some of my fellow students. We talk about graduation, what we want to do afterwards. I give one of them my 60-second sell on AmeriCorps. Once socialization draws to a close, a find a coloring page and doodle. At 3pm, my dicipline alarm goes off. Its time to do my homework. I feel inspired, I’m ready to do it, so I head back to my dorm. Again, the air makes me want to mess off, spend my time outside. Spring fever has begun to set in. I can hardly wait to finish my work so that I might frolic in the fresh grass. When I get into my dorm, my calico Luci Fur, greets me with a trill and rolls onto her back. She loves to flaunt her belly and I’m the only one aloud to pet her there. My laptop rests on the bed, open and playing her favorite playlist. A Dethklok song, Murmaider, thrums its heart beat sound. I spend a fw minutes rubbing her belly and bumping my head along with the beat before I slip the computer onto my lap. I get some work done, not as much as I should, before I take a small cuddle break. Luci is being too cute not to snuggle. I put the laptop next to me and lay down across the bed. I wiggle, trying to find a comfortable possition. Luci purrs and extrends her claws into my face. She pulls me closer. One of my legs is still folded underneath me, the weigth of my body cutting off blood. I pull it out, trying to do so without having to move anything else. My foot pops free and strikes into something hard with the full force of my strength. I feel my laptop fly off of the bed and hear it land. I cant look. I know its broken. I dont need to get up to look. I shielf my face in lucis chest.  I dont want to look.  I force myself and find that, infact, the screen is destroyed. The upper right corner is a mess of sprider webs, fracturing out across the screen. The rest of it is a chalk white, struggling to blink back on.  It’s ruined. I’m such an idiot.  Immediately, I look at the time, its not past 5, which means that the IT guys will probably still be in there office. WIthout wasting another second, I shove the technology into its case and rush it to the hospital, like it was my loved one. My voice is tight while I explain whats happened. He doesn’t laugh, he looks quite sympathetic. He explains that theres little he can do, but hooks it up to a spare monitor anyway. He gives me a flash drive and helps me move my files. He tells me I’ll need a new screen but he’ll put it in for free.  The screens range from 50-200$ and I have all of 4$ in my account. Once I get what I can onto a flash drive, I wander back towards my dorm. Texting my bestie, I find comfort in her sympathy, though we both know theres nothing to do. My family is not well off but I reach out to my mom anyway. Without my computer, I’ll fail.  I tell her what happened and she tells me, regrettably, she has no money. Her voice is sullen and a little defensive. My other siblings would be quick to rage about this. Im sad, but I tell her its ok. It’s my own damn fault, anyway. We spend some time trying to brain storm. I consider taking another loan from the school, but on top of being that much more owed, it’ll take over a week to process. My brother has a computer that he connects to his tv and uses for nothing else. I consider asking if we could switch until the semester is over when my mom intturupts. She’s been struck by genuis. She can bring me her old television and an HDMI cord. The tv was destined for donation; what better way to rehome it then giving it to her child? She excitedly tells me she’ll come over as soon as she’s had her evening coffee and hangs up. Despite the over reaching cloud to depression, I find my sunshine. This will be like a desktop, in some ways better than what I had before.  I spend the next hour or so chatting on the phone with my bestie. She reads me her story, teasing me with the unfinished chapter. She finishes just in time, my mother has arrived. She brings me dinner and we spend some time enjoying each others company. Its been several weeks since the last time we got to hang out. She doesn’t feel great and heads home.  I set up the television and connect my computer. Ready to finish my homework, I push the televisions on button. It shifts awkwardly under my finger. Nothing else happens.

I meddle with it.

Its broken.

For the first time I feel the cascading wave of defete crash into me. It hurts. My eyes begin to sting, filling with tears. Who the fuck did I piss off? I want to scream, jump up and down and cry.

Of course, I dont want to bother any of the little snow flakes, so I just stare at the two screen. One blank and emotionless, the other a twitching, shattered mess. With a deep breath a turn the tv towards me and examine the button. I fiddle with it for several minutes. I will not let this happen. 

Mark me, if I have to tear this apart and rebuild the entire thing from bolts, I will.

The tv lights up, a dim blue-grey glow. 

It works!

I take a picture, send it to my mom and bestie before I sit down and finish my homework.

It’s after midnight. My day is finally over. My head has begun to hurt again, but I’m not ready for bed. Instead, I get on tumblr and blog about the day I’ve had.