#this was fun--might have to do some more bleach-themed patches

[recurring-polynya]

I got this brushkit for making patches from my art club, and I knew immediately that I wanted to use it to live out my dreams, which is to say, make an embroidered version of the lieutenants' badge, like big-ass Girl Scout merit badge, and I did it. The only hard part was faking up the armband.

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 67: Home

Keith returns to his first home, and brings Lance to meet his father. But first, a tiny bit of fluff to soften(?) the blow

TRIGGER WARNING: This episode includes the themes of loss and grief, which be distressing to some readers. Please take care of yourselves <3<3<3

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Keith’s home is simple, four domes, one visibly newer than the others, and one with a new roof. The stove and fireplace have also been redone quite recently. There's also a little garden plot now, overgrown with unkempt flowering plants, lovely in its little patch of wilderness.

“Ah, Mom added a washroom. Thank fuck. Lake’s cold as shit for a bath… It was nice of her to fix the place up. I’d always assumed I’d come back out here when I finished my service.”

“I never really thought about your aspirations had you stayed,” Lance ponders.

“Mnh. Nothing special. Do my time in the military, maybe find a mate, come back here for a while, then travel the stars. Try to find Earth, where my name comes from. But I’m doing something different, and that’s okay.”

“Is it?”

“Being mated to you, raising our kits, and looking after the Altean Empire? It’s not what I imagined, but I like it well enough. I’m happy.” And, because Lance doesn’t quite look convinced, “Really, Lance. Our life together makes me happy. Come on. I’ll show you around. We’ll unpack, and then we can swim in the lake, and you can see the waterfall.”

Lance watches Keith carefully, unsure of how he’ll react now that he’s home. They carry their things inside, watching the breeze roll red earth over the red stone floor. The main room is simple: a small fireplace with a narrow chimney, a knotted rug, a pair of chairs, a stool. Draped over the newer-looking of the two chairs -the other looks rather weathered- is a thin, threadbare cloth blanket, sun-bleached red. Keith smiles, picking it up.

“This was my blanket when I was kit. I couldn’t sleep without it. I left it here when I went with Shiro. I thought it might get taken away… I wonder if we could use it for something.”

“What, like for a baby?” At Keith’s nod, Lance continues. “It looks pretty thin, but maybe Pidge could do something with it. They act callous about it, but they actually really like kids, and not as science experiments. Not exclusively, anyway. It’s cute that you’re thinking about that stuff already.”

“It’s not like we’ll have a lot of time to devote to that stuff once we get home. We’ve delegated pretty much all of our duties for now, but that won’t last long. I have to think about while I have time.”

“Well don’t think about it alone. I’m right here. I already told you: I’m not going to be like the ol’ sperm donor back home.”

“Ugh.” Keith rolls his eyes, turning to open the cellar by the table. “I don’t want to look, think, or hear about your sperm donor ever again. He will never be left alone with our kits.”

“Good idea. Given the chance, he’ll gift them weapons and tell them they’ll take a life before they’re twenty.” Lance sighs. “You are going to let him see our kits, right?”

“Of course! He’s their grandfather! If he wants to see them, and can behave himself, then I want him to. Under supervision. My mother on the other hand…” Keith frowns, stands, brushes earth from his clothes.

“What?”

“Nevermind. Just more family drama. We have enough already.” Keith huffs. “Come on. I want to go swimming.”

“Can’t say no to that!” Lance chirps, skipping after his spouse. He doesn’t believe it’s ‘just family drama’ at all, but he’ll let Keith tell him in his own time. Just like he'll let the young man stall doing what he actually wants to do.

So instead of pressing his stressed spouse, Lance serves to distract him, swimming with him, basking in the waning sun, shoving his head under the water, getting into splash fights, and not acting at all like the prince he is. Which is fine, because they’re alone, and this is a very short respite before their lives get even more complicated. Taking time to 'mess around' in a small alcove behind a waterfall doesn’t hurt either.

Later, settling back against the rock face to watch Keith float in lazy circles, he finds himself wishing, for the very first time in his life, that he weren’t who he is, and for only the millionth time that he could make every last one of Keith’s days exactly like this one.

Keith swam up to the ledge Lance was sitting on, fitting in between his legs. “You okay?”

“Mhm. Just watching.”

“Ah. See anything you like?” Keith rests his cheek against the inside of Lance’s leg.

“Many things… You’re being very cute.”

“Still riding the high of being mated to you. It’ll wear off in a few quintants.” Keith kisses the bare skin at the inside of his thigh, smirking when Lance jolts.

“Just in time for your season. Brat.”

“Yeah. I can’t seem to catch a break, can I?”

“You know we can change that if you want. And I’ll make it as easy for you as I can.” Lance’s stomach growls audibly, making Keith laugh, nuzzling against Lance’s leg, more sweet than sexy. They’ve been apart, physically, most of the day. He could probably do with some physical affection. The platonic kind.

Lance has caught on to just how important that contact is to Galra. When not working or in uniform, they’re a comparatively clingy species.

“Hungry?” Keith teases when Lance’s stomach growls again.

“I’ve been hungry since before we even got here!” Lance laughs, brushing dripping clumps of hair out of Keith’s face.

“You could have said something. We could have eaten already.”

“Yeah, well. I had better things to do. Like watching my husband have some fun for once.”

“Oh, come on, I have lots of-” Keith frowns. “You never call me your husband. Not unless you have to.”

“Yes, well.” Lance gazes at his husband, eyes soft. “It never really felt like you were. And you think gendering everything is stupid, so…”

“It’s fine.” Keith swims around, hauling himself up to sit beside his mate, cuddling up against his side, tail serving as an extra limb to hold him close. “I mean, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather call you my mate than anything else. That’s what actually means something to me. That's the word I choose for my life partner. And you should call me whatever means something to you. Whatever that is. Even if that’s just ‘my contracted roommate’.”

Lance laughs. “That’s… incredibly sweet. Sweeter than I expected, honestly.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I’m not sure. Perhaps a lecture on the arbitrary constructs of sex and gender?”

“Tempting.” Keith laces their hands together, nuzzling against his pointed ear. He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. “But I have something I need to do. I've stalled long enough. Will you come with me?”

“Of course.” If Keith doesn't want to go alone, Lance won't allow him to.

After grabbing a small bag from the den, Keith leads him through the last varga of light before sunset, weaving through trees like he still knows every root beneath his bare feet. BleepBloop eventually finds and joins them on their walk, presumably well-rested after sleeping the entire way there. The small primate remains mostly in the trees, leaping through the branches above, chittering and screeching at Keith to join him.

“We used to use the trees when we were out here,” Keith explains. “It tended to be safer than the ground. And most Alteans don’t tend to look up.”

“They really don’t. To be fair, it's unusual for fully-grown Galra to be hiding in trees. They don't exactly blend in.” The two laugh.

It fades quickly, when they stop at the edge of a ravine, Keith looking down. Without a word, t he Galra begins slipping down the side of the ravine, toward the water at the bottom. He moves with sure, practiced grace, aided further by familiarity with his surroundings, hyper aware of any changes. Lance is not so fortunate, slipping and sliding down the narrow ledges.

At one point, he loses his balance, falling back with a gasp. Fortunately, Keith manages to grab his arm, keeping him from falling to creek twenty dashes below. “You alright?”

“Fine. Just… struggling.” Lance does his best time hide how shaken he is. He can't imagine tiny, undersized Little Keith making this descent.

“Watch my feet. Put yours exactly where I put mine.”

With Keith moving slower, he’s more able to move safely down the side of the ravine. “This is much better. Thank you.”

“Sorry, I didn’t think about it before.” Keith settles his feet into the sandy bottom. “I’ll help you back up… We should have done this earlier. It’ll be dark pretty soon.”

“You weren't ready, earlier. Don't worry. I can make light for us if need be.”

Keith’s not really listening, Lance can tell. Tail swaying, ears pricked, the Galra stares at a pile of rocks, roughly the length of a grown, male Galra, and about two dashes high.

“Is that-”

“Yeah. I was only six, so I couldn’t exactly move him. The rocks kept scavengers off of him. It’s how we’d protect kills if we weren’t ready to clean them.” Keith wades through the shallow creek, ears drooped. “Some of his smaller bones have probably washed away. The rest will too, sooner or later.”

“I’m sorry, beloved.”

“It’s fine. He’d be okay with that. My dad… He loved it out here, feeling like a part of something natural, something alive and thriving, all while minding its own business. This is where he belonged. Becoming a part of it is what he would have wanted anyway. It was me that wasn’t ready.”

Lance has never really thought before about life without his parents. Sure, he’s never had his mother, but he’s grown up with two fathers. Even before Alfor officially remarried when Lance was seven, Coran was his parent. Lance has only ever called him ‘daddy’, and later ‘dad’.

Thinking about it now, Lance can’t imagine losing either of them. Sure, he doesn’t typically get along with Alfor, but Alfor is his father, and the king. He’s an extremely important figure in Lance’s life. And Coran…

Coran, with his permissive attitude and his terrible advice and weird anecdotes and random facts and always being there to soften the blow when Lance screws up- Losing either of them would be devastating. It’s a terrible thing to think about, and it’s Keith’s reality.

So when Keith says he wasn’t ready to let go, Lance says, “I wouldn’t be, either. I don’t know that I ever could be.”

But he'd be ready to be Akira in a heartbeat.

Keith doesn’t respond, very quiet as he finds a bit of dry sand. He pulls a clay bowl, the inside caked in ash, from his bag, pours in the rest of the bag’s contents. A feather. A few different stones. A glass bottle filled with several layers of different colored sediments, which he opens and pours into the bowl. Herbs. Another, smaller bottle of a fragrant oil, which is also poured out.

From his belt, Keith removes a pair of stones, striking them together until he creates a spark. Sitting cross-legged in the wet sand, Keith stares at the low-burning flames. He only has until the flames die before Akira's spirit is finally sent on. Krolia got to convene, and now it's his turn. After this, the gods will take his father away, and nothing but bones will be left.

It's part of the reason he was stalling. This is a final goodbye, and that's always a hard thing.

“Hi, Dad. I kept my promise. I’ve come home…” Keith sighs, looking up at the sky as his eyes immediately start to sting. Lance sits right behind him, rests his cheek on Keith’s shoulder. “But, uh… It’s not really home anymore. I’ve been gone a long time, and- I think it’s okay, don’t you? It’s okay for this to be my sometimes home instead Home home, right? I mean- Fuck, I’m bad at this.”

Lance’s arm curls around his waist from behind, gentle and comforting, just enough for him to know he’s there. “Just talk, beloved. That’s all you have to do.”

“What I’m saying is… You did it. You protected me, and- I survived, because of you. And now, I get to live.” Keith rubs tears into his fur, sniffling. He still really, really misses his dad. Every day, he feels that empty space where Akira used to be. “I have a new home, and a good mate, and we’ll have kits, and a good life, and I hate that you had to die to give me that -

"And it's fine. Everything will be fine. I'll rule Altea with Lance, and help Lotor honor your wishes for Daibazaal, and I'll be a good uncle for his kits, and I'll be a good father, and I'll help keep the peace and you don't have to worry, okay? I'll be just fine. Better than fine, even.

“And that's fine. Really! I just- I just wish you were here. More than anything, I wish you were still here. I miss you so much..." Keith practically falls against Lance, still heartborken. "There are so many things I'll never get to see. I'll never get to see you and Mom together. I'll never get to see you with Lance, or our kits. I'll never get to see you proud of me, and everything that I'm working for. And I know that you are, but I’ll never get to hear you say it and it sucks.”

Keith takes a deep breath. The offering flame is already fading, and with it, his time to convene. “I’m sorry you died, but I’m glad that I’m still here, and I’m grateful to you for that.” The last of the flames gutter out. “I love you and I miss you, Dad. And I’ll see you again. I'll tell you everything you missed.”

They’re left in the dark, Lance wrapping around him, holding him tight.

“Do you- Was it good enough?” Keith croaks, rubbing at his eyes.

“It was perfect, baby. It’s not a speech. It sounded just like you, and that’s good.”

“He was my whole world,” Keith whispers, clutching BleepBloop as the concerned primate climbs into his lap. “And then he was gone.”

“I know, beloved. I know.” Lance rocks them gently. “Are you ready to go back?”

“Can we- Can we stay here for a little bit? Please?”

“However long you want.”

Lance lifts his hands, forming a few tiny werelights to hover above them, pale, gentle light to keep the dark at bay. It’s a good change from being trapped alone in the dark, just Keith and BleepBloop. Now, there’s him, his mate, his pet, and the imprint of his father’s life and legacy. Beyond this little circle, there’s friends and family. A purpose. A home. A future.

A good life, all because of the thing that he lost.

That one, precious, irreplaceable thing.

[johnaleitner]

Tips for Painting Bathrooms

Bathroom painting tips

The bathroom is one of the essential rooms in a house. It’s where we get ready to face the day, and it’s also a place where we can relax and unwind at the end of a long day. So your bathroom must be a comfortable and pleasant space. You don’t have to commit to a complete bathroom renovation; you can make a dramatic change by just painting your bathroom. One way to make your bathroom more comfortable is to paint it a colour you love. Painting your bathroom can be a fun weekend project and a great way to add some personality to your home. Here are some tips for painting your

Before beginning, prepare the walls by cleaning them thoroughly with a DIY solution of three parts water and one part bleach. Begin by painting the walls in corners, working your way outward. Remember that ventilation is key to a long-lasting paint job. You can use painter’s tape to block off areas before painting and drop cloths to protect the surfaces and toilet.

Eggshell finishes work well in painted bathrooms.

While eggshell finishes work well in painted bathrooms, they are not as practical as satin finishes. Satin surfaces reflect more light, making application mistakes more visible. Errant roller lap marks and brush strokes are harder to hide,, and touch-ups are more difficult to hide as well. Eggshell, on the other hand, is very low-reflective and helps to hide application goofs. Therefore, if you’re unsure of your painting skills, go with Eggshell finish.

Paint with eggshell finishes is an excellent option for painted bathrooms because of its high-gloss finish. Eggshell finishes are easier to clean than flat paint and can help keep your bathroom looking its best. They do not retain water or moisture quickly and are less prone to mould and mildew than flat paint.

Bathroom Walls: white isn’t off-limits.

You don’t have to avoid white paint in your bathroom.  Neutral tones like beige, grey and off-white are best for your bathroom walls. They don’t add too much contrast and don’t change your complexion. However, white is great for a small bathroom.

Try another colour if you’re not ready to commit to a white bathroom. White is associated with self-care and cleanliness. Having an all-white bathroom can help you feel more refreshed and relaxed. But if you’re not ready for an all-white bathroom, try using white as an accent colour. You can paint one wall white and the rest of the walls a different colour. Or you can use white bathroom trim to add some contrast to your bathroom.

Wallpaper is a good option for most bathrooms instead of a paint job.

There are many ways to add interest to your bathroom walls, but wallpaper is a popular option that won’t break the bank. Unlike paint, which will need regular maintenance, wallpaper holds up well in bathrooms and won’t damage the walls, but the installation process can be tricky. Before installing wallpaper, ensure your walls are clean and smooth and patch any imperfections. Also, use a specific primer for your bathroom.

When decorating a bathroom with a classic theme, you might want to use textured wallpaper. Textured wallpaper will give the walls a unique look and add a layer of interest to the room. However, some designers don’t recommend using textured wallpaper in a bathroom because it can promote mould growth. Similarly, textured wallpaper can add interest without creating the same effect as actual textured wallpaper. For this reason, try a simulated texture wallpaper.

Anti-mould bathroom paint

If you’re looking for anti-mould paint for painted bathrooms, the best option is probably a 5-year warranty product like Perma White. While white may look nice, consider a pastel, off-white, or medium-colour paint. Darker colours aren’t as visible, making it difficult to spot mould problems. Luckily, several brands will protect you without sacrificing colour or texture.

One of the most popular brands is Zinsser Perma-White Mold and Mildew-Proof Interior Paint. This paint is water-based, which means it doesn’t require sanding. Add five gallons of water-based paint to one gallon of the product to apply this paint. Mix the two ingredients and use them on walls and ceilings. Then, let the paint dry completely. Benjamin Moore also offers their Aura® Bath & Spa anti-mould and mildew-resistant paint, which does similar things.

Painting behind a toilet

Painting behind a bathroom toilet is a simple yet effective way to transform your bathroom. Not only can it make the room look brighter and more appealing, but it also protects the wall behind the toilet, making it last for many years. The following tips will help you achieve stellar results. First, ensure sufficient clearance from the toilet bowl to the wall. Once you have painted and prepared the wall, you can reinstall the toilet tank.

The paint should be in a container or tray to minimize the chance of spills. Next, make sure that the colour doesn’t drip on your brush. Make small, even coats, as too much paint can cause a mess. Position the paint roller at a comfortable angle. The distance between the bowl and the wall will determine the angle and space you need to cover. A side-to-side approach is most effortless for people with limited mobility.

Choosing the right paint colour for your personality

Choosing the right colour for your painted bathroom is essential. The paint colour you choose will depend on your overall decor, the paint finish, and the lighting in the room. If you have natural light in the bathroom, consider a blue or gray tone. If you don’t have natural light, try a bright white colour to counteract the effects of artificial light. White paint also looks great with wood or brass accents.

Changing the paint colour in the bathroom can transform the whole feel of the room. The right paint colour can make an otherwise drab room feel larger and more inviting. Choose the right shade to reflect your personality. Choosing the right shade can reflect your style and personality while adding a sense of peace and calm. The right paint colour should also complement the flooring of your bathroom.

Quick painting tips:

If you’re using different paint on the ceiling, use painter’s tape to avoid painting the ceiling.

Permanently remove the soap scum around the shower or bathtub surround before painting.

Remember to tape towel racks, doorknobs, and other hardware before painting.

Start by cutting the corners of the walls for a smooth surface.

Make sure to wait at least an hour after the first coat to apply the second coat.

Remove all wall hangings and window treatments before starting the job.

 Frequently Asked Questions

 What do I need to paint a bathroom?

The right tools for painting a bathroom are as follows:

Paint tray

Plastic sheet

Painters tape

Paintbrush

Caulking

4″ Paint Roller

Mild detergent

Rubber gloves

How do I prep my bathroom walls for painting?

You will need to wash your walls with a mild detergent and let them dry completely before painting. You should scrape any loose paint and fill cracks or nail holes with caulk. Once you’ve prepared the wall, you can apply a primer if desired.

When painting a bathroom, What do you paint first?

You should always start from the most substantial light source and leave the ceiling last.

Should I prime bathroom walls before painting?

Yes, absolutely! It would help if you used a stain-blocking primer to prevent any bleed-through.

How long does it take to paint a bathroom?

It usually takes about four to six hours to paint an average-sized bathroom.

How many coats of paint does a bathroom need?

You need one coat of primer and two coats of your paint colour.

Do you have to remove the toilet to paint the bathroom?

You should, but you don’t have to remove the toilet. Just be sure to tape around it, so you don’t accidentally paint it!

How long after you paint a bathroom can you shower?

You should avoid using the shower for at least one day to allow the paint to cure properly.

Is semi gloss paint good for bathrooms?

Semi-gloss paint is excellent for bathrooms as it is water resistant and easy to clean.

How much paint do I need for a bathroom?

For a small space, one-gallon paint should be enough.

What’s the best paint sheen for bathroom painting purposes?

Well, it depends on your level of experience. A semi-gloss or high-gloss sheen is the easiest to work with because it resists moisture and is easier to clean. However, these finishes can also show imperfections more easily. If you’re not confident in your painting skills, we recommend going with an eggshell shell finish, as mentioned above.

Canadian Home Style is your family-owned and operated bathroom remodeler in North Vancouver, BC. We hold the highest standards in the industry and provide complete bathroom renovations across the Lower Mainland with an extended warranty. We always keep up to date with the latest trends and are proud members of the NKBA National Kitchen and Bath Association. In addition, we have won the Consumer’s Choice Awards back-to-back in 2021 and 2022 for our commitment to business excellence. We are considered one of the highest-rated kitchen and bath design and renovation experts in Metro Vancouver. Book now to visit our North Vancouver showroom, where you can get expert advice from one of our kitchen and bath designers. We’re happy to be a part of your journey with your next bathroom renovation project in Metro Vancouver.

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[toddmichaelrogers]

Letter to You

All in due time

I am obsessed with the concept of time. When I read an article about light moving across time and space to reach us from distant galaxies, and how...what we are viewing in those distances may have already passed into death thousands of years ago, it gets my dick “Super Mario 2 (Japanese Version) hard”.

I think about equations of time v.s growth on a nearly daily basis. I am obsessed about it.

Some may feel possessed

I myself obsess about it

My youngest brother was born twenty-two years ago. His name is Ben. This week, he came for a surprise visit by telling me he would be here and then allowing me to forget. The added bonus was we got to celebrate his birthday together. That night, I drove him and his friends and Kelsie around (they may all be kids to me, but Kelsie’s been my brother’s partner for longer than I’ve known my own). We spent the night at a false speakeasy, and a giant championship pool hall, empty but for a few of us. As the night ended I drove the kids up to a hill called love circle, where a year ago I had imagined killing myself (I had a concussion, it’s cool).

In the car Michael, this kid I had not seen in a decade, popped in a song that maybbbbe three people in the world might have known. It’s a B-Side which could only be known to someone such as myself, someone who cares entirely too much for a half-forgotten Scottish 1980s group. 

“Is this fucking Big Country?” I asked. And then both parties continued asking in astonished voices if the other if they enjoyed the same band, until Michael ripped his shirt open to reveal a 1986 tour tee. “What the fuck?!” I screamed. And then preceded to tell him that Spell Saga was inspired by this band’s music; there was no need to explain what Spell Saga was to the kids in the car, they had seen the card game and its stacks of packages sitting in my living room.

The game has continued to haunt me. The rest of the packages will be sent out sometime in the next 30 days, and the manufacturer will be paid up for services rendered in the next week. That is about 1500 days since I decided to pursue the project, and over 800 days since the Kickstarter worked and we knew it was going to go to print. 

Sometimes people write very frustrated messages online wondering where their packages are, but the comments that mean the most to me are the ones where people are nice hahaha. No, I shouldn’t laugh, it’s haunting. Trying to do something right and trying to handle your own mistakes in public is about as nerve-wracking and humiliating as anything since 7th grade.

In the meantime I’ve taken all those worries and embarrassments and pushed them into the next Spell Saga release (Deck 1.5 The Under Sky) which may or may not work, we’re about to find out in March. The concept and design are so ridiculous and in depth that I’ve been forced to finish the entire thing before playing it at all--something I have not done since Spell Saga 4.0 was finished to show at Gen Con back in 2011. The whole thing could be rendered nearly pointless if the game isn’t fun to play--but then again, how can you know? Countless hours of Photoshopping and weird little doodles for an unknowable outcome. If that isn’t the official theme of Spell Saga, or indeed, everything I make, then I don’t know what is.

Speaking of time, games, and 7th grade (and as was mentioned in previous correspondence) this Autumn, after twenty years of waiting, I will be releasing a card game I started making in 7th grade. The illustrator is my friend Weshoyot, who just sent me the final pieces this past week. This is after we began working on it together 9 years ago! My god, I know this blog has a sort of theme running through it but even that takes me aback, (it also takes me a-straight-back, to 2009, when I was getting married to my first wife, designing EPIOCH instead of planning a wedding, and about to start work on both The Novel & Spell Saga...what a fucked up year…)

The novel I started still continues, and work goes well, actually. Yes it’s been 8 years, but after forcing a second draft on New Years day of 2016 I have now arrived, one year later, into new territory. Most of last year was spent agonizing through a muck of the same few chapters. It was almost nerve wracking to pick it back up, after a month’s rest, and knock-out another two new chapters without a hint of friction.

I was talking to my brother while he was in town (we always have the same talk and he hates it, but I always push it) “why aren’t you making things” I ask him every visit. I know he wants to. And I can’t speak for him, or rather, I won’t but I think there’s this perfectionist thing that hits in varying degrees. (I’m speaking more about myself then him, right now) I’ve read that  perfectionism is linked to depression, and alcoholism--this idea that things need to be a certain way, or they aren’t worth it--when really, that’s not true at all. 

Things just need to be as good as you can make them at the time, and then finished. I spent most of last year stuck on the same songs, and the same chapters, unsure of how to move forward, yet sure they had to be brilliant or cool.

But, I’m not either of those things. I don’t know how many passes I think will bleach the uncoolness out of something, but it doesn’t work. There’s something to be said for taking one’s time--and of course putting something away and rewriting it is definitely in everyone’s best interest...but still, finishing things as best you can is important.

I was talking with Meagen the other day about this, about how we as human beings tend to think if something is not hard or time consuming that it must not be good--that a novel should take ten years and not, say two. See? I even wrote the word “one” there and had to erase it. A novel? In a year? How drab.

We as artists don’t believe in ourselves, and pretend that putting time into a project will make it that much more special--or even better, waiting forever to start it...Fuck the fuck outta that. Make it and be embarrassed and move on. Just make it as best you can.

I am afraid of many things, including the new chapters I just wrote, because they happened quickly. But that is how art appears! It boils up like feelings because that’s what art really is. The craft is in getting past yourself to sit down and start the thing past your own fears. The craft is in making it sound good. the craft is in finishing it. I hope my brother starts making things, and I hope I start making things quicker.

The last day he was in town, I put on the pants I bought when I was 22. They were my favorite pants to write in for years, lasting through a full marriage and into a new one. A pair of 2005 women’s jeans so old the crotch is ripped out (my dick hangs like a cotton bulge). I looked at myself in the mirror, decided against them, and picked out another pair of pants for the evening. It was President’s Day, and my band EFFORTS was about to play our first show.

I had spent three weeks wanting to vomit every time I thought about it. But the date on the flyer appeared and with it, our last practice before loading our gear. By the end of practice I was too hungry to be nervous, and Zach, Geoffrey and I arrived at the venue to drink.

Meagen appeared, worried about a friend of ours. We stood in a parking lot across the venue and I tried to console here, it had been a rough couple of days for the both of us.

Last week was Valentine’s. I spent the night before the holiday of hearts holding our dog, Ellie, as her heart began to fail. It had been three years since the doctor told us she would die any day, and now it seemed the curse had come to claim her. I whispered nice things into her ears as she melted across my chest, and then we both feel asleep. 

I dreamed she could talk, and she told me she was hurting. And then she transformed between a young girl and grown women, back and forth again as Meagen and I held her. At the end of the dream she told me to look up at the ceiling to see what death looked like for dogs; it was a dance of shadows and light that made no scientific sense, but I understood all the same. When I awoke Ellie was staring at me, alive and well, he heart has since settled to normal.

So Meagen and I were already wound up when some really bad shit went down for a friend. I tried to console Meagen across the street, minutes before the soundcheck. I was already hot in my leather jacket, but I kept it on because the homemade arm band was tied around my right limb. The arm bands were an idea I had floated by Zach months ago and, black for mourning, with our logo, the crucibolt emblazoned upon it. I had sat down sometime between my dog trying to die and the show to make the both wraps at home using ribbon, velcro patches and iron-on sheets cut carefully and branded by my wife’s straightening iron. (i. have. never. been. cool.)

Meagen asked if I was nervous, and I said yes. Then, we walked into the venue to smoke and drink some more, Geoffrey and I both having quit tobacco except for rare occasions and the first-show-ever exception.

I waited 32 years to perform music--it still feels like a daydream that was never actually supposed to happen, but at the same time, if I’m being honest, events were always leading to this. It feels like I pulled off a miracle that was always going to happen.

On stage we were surrounded by a dimly lit room, filled with lots of people we knew. I didn’t know what to do so Zach instructed me from his drum kit on what to say to the sound guy. Then we launched into our newest song, “6 pack, nice abs!(stinence)” and I immediately heard my own vocals for the first time ever. It was an awful shock. But that feeling was overwhelmed by the rush of sound screaming out from behind me as I stared down at what my fingers were doing and sang as well as I could.

It was Zach’s idea to start with “6 pack”. I had spent two years planning for this moment, certain (god-damn-it, certain!) that when I got to play this shit live, the band (whoever that would be, there was no band, barely any songs, a pipe dream), we would start the show with the opening track of the album “everyone will leave and you”, but two hours before the show Zach said we needed to open with  6 pack, it, and it was agreed. Plans are just plans, sometimes real shit needs to happen.

Here’s a video of it.

We got through the first pre-chorus, and then I was almost smiling as we launched into the second verse

Some may feel possessed

I myself obsess about it

By the end of the song I was already sweating from the stage lights and the leather jacket; and the way I was screamed, stooped with the guitar strap across my shoulder, I felt myself nearly black out several times, a moment that would continue throughout the show.

It occurred to me afterward the opening lyrics were written while driving down the very same street the bar was on, near-as-exact to a year ago as I drove to buy airplane bottle liquor while texting my Father in an AA meeting.

Dad’s on his way to a meeting

I’m on my way to the store

And there I was, holding the guitar I grew up pretending to play, the cherry-red-heavy my Father let me borrow as he left for California, a son who had never written a song, asking someone he didn’t know very well for a guitar they never used anymore. 

He used to write little songs

He don’t write nothin’ no more

Then, the song ended and I heard people yelling and applauding. without looking up, Zach clicked us into the next one and we slammed through another two minute punk song about feelings (the boys and I recently decided to call our genre mid-punk, as we are so damn old compared to ‘dem kids’). It was during this one my head started to get away from me, that I began to realize I was, somehow on a stage and not in my imagination, and I had to grip the guitar pick tighter and focus on what I was doing. That is how insane it felt. And then, at some point during the set, stage lights started to jump and bounce everywhere and the surreality lifted into some sort of mega-dise of everything I had ever wanted.

My favorite part of the entire show was turning to Zach & Geoff between songs and laughing before we launched into whatever was next. Here was the set list, lest we ever forget:

6 pack, nice abs!(stinence)

everyone will leave and you

may you absorb all evil

the bridge song

better off without you

I saw a pale horse

west coast

ash to dust

word waster

vera

Everything ended with me singing a song I had written about a time 5 years ago when Meagen and a friend--the very same one I was consoling her about--were playing Super Mario 2 (Japanese version).

I’ll never be as happy as I was

On those Winter nights

After the show ended, Ben walked up on stage to give me a hug and congratulate me. “I can’t believe you just watched me play a show!” I shouted. I hope he noticed how perfect it was not, as I sure did.

It is so important to just go for things, and fuck up, and not be perfect, and then try over, and over, and over again. When it comes to art, you can do anything you want (if you’re meant to do it). And why would you want to do it, why would you dream about it everyday, if that dream wasn’t meant for you?

Work hard. Fuck up. Fix it. Let go. And finish.

That’s my plan, over and over again, and somehow, it looks like it’s starting to work. If you’re waiting for a package, I hope you have it by the time you read this. And if you’re ever in Nashville, I hope you can see EFFORTS play a show.

-mE.