#very very sad because I used to live right near there and got beer delivery during the pandemic

[necromancy-savant]

Played the weirdest show today: I was expecting a porchfest where we’d be on a porch in a city but it was in a suburb with really expensive houses. The audience was full of kids of all ages and old people with little to no young adults, and we were definitely the heaviest band at the whole festival. Also it was rough cause we got only one practice in with the drummer filling in and hadn’t played together in a while. And my voice still isn’t back to what it used to be. But on the other hand, we met a fan who came just to see us (I actually recognized him from the crowd at our last porchfest), I sold two cds and am finally almost out of them, and I pet like four dogs

[iamyoursinblog]

Nuna[END]

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: fluff, smut

Word Count: 6,7 k

Part: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [extra]

LIST

________________________

POV Jungkook

He went into the elevator and rested his forehead against the wall. So long it can't last. His breathing was heavy, and his heart was beating too fast. He barely stopped himself today. But you were too sexy. He won a small victory. But why was it feel so sad deep inside.

You were right in everything. Now it’s clear why you saw the child in him. He only thought about his feelings. Why didn’t he think about the reality in which he lived. What was he hoping for. He could not date with anyone, and if someone take a photo of him with a girl, the group would have problems because of him. He is such a fool! That's why he gets into all sorts of troubles. He cannot even come to you when he wants it, only when they have free time. “See you tomorrow” - he doesn’t even know if he will be able to leave the dorm tomorrow. But he must take a chance, not for that he went so far as to surrender so easily now. He must do everything possible. You agreed - that was the only thing that mattered. You watched a movie while you sat in his arms. He smiled. He must tease you, you must feel that need him. If while he can’t win your heart, he must at least conquer your body. He knows that you always played with guys, if he wants to be with you, he should become the main one in this game.

He quickly got home and went into the apartment. The party was in full swing. For a long time he had not seen hyungs so drunk.

“Kooky !!! Where were you my favorite, maknae. I missed you so much. ”Jin hugged him, kissing him on the cheek.

"Hyung, you're drunk!" he tried to break out of hyung's steel grip.

"Have you got a girlfriend?" asked Yoongi

“Of course, I have a lot of free time for this. What is the reason for that party? ” he quickly changed the subject.

“It's just that when you meet friends you no come so earlier and you are always drunk. And now it’s not even midnight and you are sober” Hoseok said with suspiciously.

“Reporter Kim Namjoon, Bangtan TV. Comment of this situation, Mr. Jeon” approached him Namjoon, using a bottle of soju instead of a microphone.

“Hyungs, you are all drunk. I have a photoshoot tomorrow morning. So I didn’t drink much and returned early” he made excuses.

“Okay, okay ... Justified!" Hoseok tapped with a spoon on the table.

Everyone began to laugh. He joined them, and taking a beer. " Do you like _________? Why do you constantly write dirty stuff to her all times.” asked Jin to Yoongi.

Jungkook choked a beer. ‘Why are you asking him this, hyung’, he thought. So he need to calm down. It is impossible that they all recognize on the first day.

“Yes, I like her” Yoongi replied, and Jungkook felt a growing worry inside. “We are sex friends” Namjoon dropped a can of beer, Hoseok was sitting with his mouth wide open, and Jungkook could not move from what he had just heard. He laughed out loud. “Wow ... It was worth it! This is a reaction! Daebak! She and I are friends in sex conversations. She knows everything about me and I about her. We give advice to each other, etc. There is nothing between us except friendship ”

“So you know all her boyfriends?” asked Jin

"Yes I knew"

“And do you know which idol she date?” sat closer Hoseok

"Yes I knew. But only they did not date, they just had sex. He does not have time for a relationship, she too. So they met together”

"Who is it? Who?" Hoseok bounced from excitement on a chair

"I will not say. If she wanted you to know, she would tell you herself” Yoongi replied, taking a sip of whiskey.

"But we are so interested" whined Hoseok

“I even have no doubt that you are interested”

“At least tell me from which group he is?” Yoongi shook his head, “Okay! At least tell me what agency he is from? ” did not give up Hoseok

"Okay, nevermind. Who cares who he is. This is her own business, it does not concern us. You don't want go to the barbecue? Long time we not ate grill meat ” said Jungkook

He tried to change the topic several times, but Hoseok still did not give up, and tried to find out who you were meeting. 'I wonder ____ will tell Yoongi about me,' he thought. While you were talking, the front door opened, Taehyung and Jimin came very drunk.

“Weren't you in the spa? Why the hell are you so drunk, and most importantly where? ” asked Namjoon

“We met a hubaes, they were going to a barbecue. They invited us to join them "said Taehyung, staggering

"Our maknaes are so grown" fell on the table Jin

Everyone laughed because of Jin' dramatic behavior. The rest of the night was a lot of fun. After everyone went sleep, he stayed with Yoongi in the kitchen.

"What's going on?" Yoongi asked, passing him a new beer.

"What are you talking about, hyung?" he asked him

“Do you like ________? That's why you are acting like this? ”

"Why do you think so? All is fine, hyung, I'm just tired, that's all! ”

“That you can tell others. You practically stop breathing when we talk about her. What happened at the last party? ”

"Nothing happened. Everything as usual"

“You don't want to talk, okay. I want to give you friendly advice: don’t start what you’re not sure about and don’t ruin everything because of a second desire ”

“What if I'm sure?”

Yoongi raised his head and looked into his eyes for several seconds studying his face. He got up and went up to him. Putting a hand on his shoulder, he said, “Sometimes, one-sided confidence may not be enough. Just be careful, otherwise it will hurt you in the end.” He squeezed his shoulder lightly before headed for the bedroom.

He sat and looked at the wall. Why does everyone say that he should be hurt. Is there really no chance that everything would be fine. Even your consent is more a way to show him that nothing will work out than a chance to be with him. “My confidence is enough for two,” he whispered, taking his last sip of beer. Throwing to bin empty can, he went into the bedroom. Having taken a shower, he put on his pajamas and lay down in bed. He checked the phone, there are no notifications from you, although you wrote a lot in group chat. You were still online, everyone is already sleeping, maybe you are texting with Yoongi. he opened a private chat with you and wrote

'Good night, cutie. It’s a pity that you are not near me. I want to fall asleep next, hugging you'

A minute later, the answer came: 'Didn't you say that you should get up early? Why aren’t you sleeping yet? '

'Do you worry about me? I am pleased to'

'Good night' he smiled at your answer, or rather that you did not answer his question.

'I like you, nuna. Fall in love in me'

'Crazy' he laughed after reading your answer.

Putting the phone under the pillow, he fell asleep with a smile on his face. For the first time in a long time, he slept very well. No thoughts disturbed him. Although he did not oversleep so much, in the morning he felt completely rested. He quickly packed up and went to the parking lot where the manager was waiting for him. “You look well rested, apparently you slept well.” Said the manager as soon as he saw him.

"Truth? Today I really slept really well.” He smiled as he got into the car. The first half of the day passed calmly. He could not stop smiling when they did makeup, because he was thinking about you all the time. He was wondering if you want to become their makeup artist. No, it was a bad idea. He would not be able to control himself, and all the staff would know about you within 5 minutes. While he was getting ready to shoot, he quickly wrote you 'Good morning. Have a good day. Do not strain your hand' a few minutes later he received the answer 'Good morning. Aren't you in the photoshoot? Don't be distracted from work.'

‘Oh dear, what a little grumpy. It's so cute’, he thought.. A few hours later it was all over. He hoped that their schedule was not very busy, and he could see you at least for half an hour. He got into the car and plunged in search of online flower delivery, it would be difficult for him to do it personally. He hoped that after 10 pm he would be free, so he made an order for this time and immediately paid back. He is also ordering a bottle of good wine and your favorite cake with the inscription 'Demo cake in honor of the first day of our demo relationship' While he was looking at the phone, the car stopped. He looked out the window, they were in the home parking lot. He saw other members near their group's van.

"Have you packed your stuff? If not, then hurry up”said the manager while getting out of the car.

“What, which stuff? What are you talking about, hyung? ” he asked, not understanding what was happening.

“What? Didn’t you hear yesterday? We are leaving for Busan to shoot a video, until the end of the week. Hurry up” said the manager. He stood in the middle of the parking lot, not believing what was happening now. To Busan? Until the end of the week? Stop. If this was known yesterday, Jin could tell you that they will leaving until end of the week. Really ... No, this cannot be ... You agreed to be with him because of you knew that he was leaving, and this only shows that he cannot do what he wants and date with someone he wants? The reality was too cruel.

He went into the elevator and dialed you.

“Did you know?”

“And hello to you. What are you talking about?" you asked.

“Did you know about this? Is that was your plan? ”

“I'm of course smart enough, but now I don’t understand what you’re talking about. You can calm down and ask a normal question. What exactly did I must to know and what plan are you talking about?”

“Did you know that I was leaving for Busan today until end of the week? Jin told you that yesterday? So thats why you agreed to try to be with me? To show me that nothing will happen the way I want? ”

You sighed heavily, “If you are going to make such teenage tantrums, then let's finish everything right now” you said in a calm voice and hung up. He was practically seething with anger when he reached his room. He threw things into the suitcase with force. Having collected all that is necessary, he went down to the parking lot and got into the car to the others.

"What happened? The photoshoot was a bad? In the morning you were in a good mood, ”Jimin asked when he sat down beside him.

“You're right, the mood was even too good.”

“You wrote _______ that we'll leaving until end of the week. Didn’t you make a meeting with her for tomorrow? ” asked Yoongi to Jin.

"Oh heck!!! I completely forgot. Because of our party, it completely flew out of my head. I'll write to her now” Jin took out his phone and started writing a message.

Jungkook dropped the phone from his hand. Damn, he screwed up. Again. He ruined everything without even having time to start. For an hour he could think of nothing but how stupid he had acted. Looking at the phone, he remembered the order he was doing. He went into the confirmation of the order, and sent a request to change the inscription on the cake 'Forgive me. I'm really not a mature child. Please give me one last chance.' Upon reaching the place, they had dinner and arrived at the hotel. He was settled in one room with Taehyung, but he was lucky because Taehyung went out for a walk with the rest of the members. He lay on the bed, and continued to look at the phone. He madly wanted to write or call you. But he could not. Not after what he made this afternoon. He received a notice that his order had been delivered. But you didn’t write anything ...

The next few days he did not even understand what he was doing, he just did everything that was told to him. He very often caught the worried glance of the members. But he didn’t care. On the last evening, he alone lay in the room, because everyone had left to a nightclub. Tomorrow morning they were returning home. They had a few days off.

He heard a knock on the door and got out of bed to open the door. On the threshold stood Yoongi. He had several bottles of soju in his hands. He walked by and sat on the floor between the beds. He put down two glasses and poured them. Jungkook still stood by the door.

"Sit down" said Yoongi

He went to the bed and sat on the floor opposite. Yoongi without a word handed him a glass and taking his drank it to the bottom, maknae did the same. Yoongi again poured them a full glass and they drank again. This went on several times. After the fifth glass, Yoongi finally broke the silence. "Talk" he said, filling the glasses again.

"There is nothing to talk ..."

Yoongi interrupted maknae not letting him finish the sentence. “If you say that 'everything is fine' or start talking about how tired you are. I swear I'll kick your ass. Therefore, stop lying and tell what is happening.  Or  should  I  call  and  ask _____?”

No, he certainly didn’t want it. He has not talked to you since that day. You haven’t written anything to him. You were right, now he really was hurt. He drank a glass, and tell his story. He told absolutely everything in detail, without hiding anything. He could no longer keep it into himself. He could not raise his head, he was too ashamed to look at hyung in his eye.

“God, you fool. Moron. How could it be so screwed up in a few days.” Yoongi sat and shaking his head. “Didn't I warn you that it will be so? Why didn’t you listen _______, when she told you the same thing. Of course, I understood that something goin on, but I did not expect that you had already managed to ruin everything ”

“Hyung, I know that I’m an idiot even without you. What I screwed up. This is not what I want to hear from you. ”

“No, you really listen. Another thousand, tens of thousands, millions of times how exactly you screwed up! ”

"What should I do now, hyung?" How can I fix it? ”

"What to do? To fix? Forget it, until you make the situation worse. It's not have enough for you of suffering, do you still want her to suffer because of you? Do you think I was not falling in love with her? ”

“Hyung ...” he was in shock.

“You are such a child. How could I not fall in love with her. It was as soon as we met. But unlike you, I reallist at things. Therefore, I put my feelings to hell until they grew. I have no regrets, we are good friends. But if I then tried to do something, I would ruin everything. That's why I advised you to think carefully about what you are going to do. Did you really think she set it up? ”

“Yes, I thought so. I just could not believe that she agreed. And it was easier for me to think into something bad, than to hope for sincerity on her part. When I heard in the car that she knew nothing .... Hyun, I thought I was going to die at that moment. It hurt so much for what I told to her. She is right that I am a child who is driven only by feelings. But I'm not ready to give up so easily. I will make any decision, but I can’t live if I don’t even try to fix it.”

“On the one hand, I envy you, your romantic hope. But on the other hand, I'm afraid you’ll hurt yourself even more ”

“It can’t be more hurts than now. So at least I will know that I did everything I could. And I won’t imagine every night "what could happened!"

“I won’t stop you, but I won’t help you either. The only help I can give you is to pretend that this conversation never happened. ”

They drank the last glass, and Yoongi went into his room. He sat on the floor and looked at the ceiling. He took the phone out of his pocket and wrote you the message 'Forgive me. Good night'

In the morning, absolutely everyone was tormented by a terrible hangover. On the way, they stopped at a restaurant for a portion of hangover soup. He liked that everyone was silent and no one paid attention to him. In silence, they returned home. Having taken a shower, he was lying in his room thinking what to do. He quickly dressed and drove to you. On the way, he bought flowers, he scared the seller with his appearance. She probably thought he was a robber. After a while he stood in front of your door. He looked at the bell and did not dare to ring it. Have you been home? Have you been home alone? Thoughts revolved in his head. Taking a few deep breaths, he rang the doorbell. After a moment he heard a noise after the door, it's good. You were at home. Opening the door, you examined him from head to toe.

“You're not from the delivery I ordered. What are you doing here?"

"Can we talk? Please"

You took a step back by letting him into the apartment. Turning around you went to the living room. You turned off the TV and sat on the sofa. He was following you, his head was empty. He laid flowers on a coffee table, went to you and knelt.

"What are you doing? Get up"

"Please forgive me. I will make any decision of yours and do everything as soon as you want. But please give us another chance. The last chance. Please” he was kneeling looking at the floor. He was unable to look you in the eye.

“Isn't it you who made the decision. You made it clear enough that you think of me. So why are you now kneeling in front of me and talking about some chance there” you got up and wanted to go past him. He took your hand stopping you. He rose from the floor and turned you to him.

"Forgive me. Sorry ... I just could not believe that you gave me a chance ... What did you give a chance to someone like me ... Therefore, when I heard about the trip, I could not stop my thoughts that you only wanted to play with me ... And only then I learned in the car that Jin didn’t tell you anything ... I felt like the last bastard. Forgive me."

“If you didn’t trust me from the very beginning, what the point to discuss something now. What the point was to start something at all”

"I trust you. Forgive me"

“So you made a tantrum because you trust me? So you said that I set it up everything because you trust me? You thought that I was just playing with you because you trust me? Have you even thought about me for a second? Have you ever thought for a second that I really want to try something with you? But I'm more angry  for myself. I was wrong. It hurt me too. It was too painful to hear this from you.” You turned your back to him.“ Go away ” you whispered ...

Everything inside was broken. You gave him a chance because you really started to like him. But he only hurt you. He came up and hugged you from back. You took a step forward breaking out of his arms. He hugged you again. You turned around pushing him away “I said, go away” he came up and kissed you. Again pushing him away, you hit a slap in the face. He took your wrists and pressed against the wall. He held your wrists over your head while he kissed you again. Your quarrel only excited him. The fact that his feelings were mutual, removed any fear in him. He pressed you with his body, preventing you from moving. After a couple of minutes your attempts to break out completely disappeared. He looked up from your lips and said, looking into your eyes, “I want you! You have three seconds to stop me. 1,2 ... ” before he said '3' you kissed him. This time the kiss was very hard and painful. His fingers stumbled forcefully into your body leaving traces. He could not control himself now. Everything that happened over the past week, all the feelings and pain, everything was reflected in this kiss. He lifted you up in the air so that you would wrap your legs around his waist. He went to your bedroom without breaking the kiss. Throwing you on the bed, he took off his hoody and T-shirt before kissing you again. Your fingers pressed into his skin. He practically tore off your clothes. The excitement was too strong to delay or be gently. After your kiss at the door, he woke up every night from his moans, because he dreamed of you, how he fucks you. He was lucky what Taehuyng sleep very soundly, and did not catch him when he woke up from the fact that he was moaning your name in a dream. He quickly took off the rest of his clothes before returning to bed. He sharply turned you on your stomach and bent your leg up.

You were also very excited like him, so despite the fact that you squeezed his cock inside, he was able to enter the entire length. He came out of you abruptly. And he made a harder jolt, making your body tremble. He lost the remnants of control over himself. He fucked you with hard, deep jolts. Sensations sent electric charges through his spine. The way your body trembled under him from the pleasure and your moans grew louder, covered him with a wave of pleasure. He won’t keep so long because you squeezed his cock with your pussy. He ran his fingers through your hair, squeezing them tightly. His teeth left marks on your neck and shoulders. He wanted to show everyone that you belong to him. There was nothing civilized in this sex, only animal passion. “I'll cumming now” you moaned when his jolts became too fast. He was glad, he barely held on. It was too good. The sensations were so strong that it seemed the heart would now stop from enjoying. He moved his hand to the clit and rubbed it. Your body trembled under him while you cum hard. His dick would be squeezed by your pussy so tightly that he could hardly move to make a few jerks. His dick twitched filling you with sperm. His whole body was chained by an orgasm, that fell upon him.

He was lying on you. He could feel how your and his hearts beating fast in unison. He was breathing heavily while recovering. He had never experienced such a strong orgasm in his life. He felt his cock pulsating inside you. Despite the fact that he just cum very hard, he was still completely hard on. He flipped you onto your back and entered you again. He hugged you and rolled over. Now you was lay on him. He continued to make slow, shallow jolts. Pleasure rose in waves, spreading warmth through the body. He wanted more. He felt his jolts make his sperm flow out of you. Every push made your skin goosebumps. He again felt very excited. He began to make deep jerks. Tougher than before, although they were still slow. His fingers dug into your hips, pushing you as deep on him as possible. Your hands moved to his wrists. You squeezed his hands hard enough, push him out to the bed. You kissed him hard by biting his lip. Pain pierced him, but why did it only make him more excited. “Now it's my turn,” you said. You ran your hands over your body, squeezing your breast. The sight of you swinging on his cock, and your hands playing with your breast, made him as excited more. When you descended on his cock, he raised his hips making jolt harder. Your one hand moved to his stomach, digging his nails into his abs. The pain made his cock twitch in you. He abandoned his attempts to move and lay calmly, accepting everything that you give him.  

You was put your hands on his chest. It made you change the angle of penetration into you. Your movements have become faster. His glans rubbed against the wall of the vagina. His body was trembling with pleasure. Each of your movements sent a discharge through his body that made him arch his back. “If you continue like that, I’m not enough for even 5 minutes,” he whispered, breathlessly with pleasure. You lowered and ran your tongue over his nipple. 'You want his dead', he thought when you did the same with another nipple. He was on the verge. He sat abruptly, making you stay kneel again. He wrapped his arm around your waist to control your jolts, slowing them down. He sucked your nipple in his mouth. Your breast drove him crazy all this time. He played with his tongue with your nipple, sucking it. He clamped your nipple with his teeth and felt how tightly you squeezed his cock, he repeated the same thing to another. He lowered you to cock forcing you to do hard jerks. You pushed him down again so he lay down. He was lying looking at you. Just your appearance could make him cum right now. Your body was wet, he could see red marks on your hips and neck that he had left, and your eyes were covered with pleasure. You looked very lecherous. He lost count of how many nights he spent imagining you that way while jerking off. Your pace has accelerated greatly, and your fingers have moved to your clitoris. He kept his last strength so as not to cum first. His fingers caressed your skin. He ran across your stomach, rising to your chest. Your skin was so hot. “Damn it, fuck, fuck.. I’m cumming ... Oooh, this is too fucking good.." you said and tightly squeezed his cock inside, which made his body tremble with pleasure. He gripped you tightly in his arms as you fell onto his chest. He continued to make quick hard jolts reaching his orgasm, he could not control the loud moans that burst from him when he cumming. It felt like whole his body was breaking. As if he were drawn into a hurricane, and his body just hung in the air. He could neither hear nor see anything around. He felt like in heaven.

It seems he lost consciousness for several minutes, but you didn’t even notice this, because you also came to your senses after an orgasm. His whole body was trembling. He rolled onto side when he was able to feel his body again. He lay in an embrace you and he left a tender kiss on your lips. He pressed you closer to his body, he wanted to completely dissolve into you, what was this moment never ends. Now in this world there was nothing but the two of you. He did not want to return to reality without knowing what awaited him there.

“We need a shower, but my body refuses to move,” you said, resting on his chest.

“I don’t feel my body, let's forget about the shower. I like being dirty. ” you laughed at his words. The sound of your laughter, the fact that you were lying embracing him made his melt, from the tenderness that he felt. Despite the fact that this was the first time, the feeling was as if you had been dating for many years. After a while, you still got up and went into the shower. He leaned against the wall, clutching you to him, while hot water flowed down your bodies. He did not want to lose even the slightest opportunity to feel you. Leaving the shower, he gently wiped your body while your fingers played with his wet hair. He pulled you and kissed you. Your lips are so seductive, he wanted to kiss you every second. Back on the bed, you pulled out the bedspread to the floor and were light at a clean bedding. It felt so natural. You two were cuddling in your bed. After a long time, you asked him, “Don't you have to go back at dorm?”

Reality brought you back from heaven to earth. But he did not want to let go of his, even a short, moment of happiness. He reached into the pants that were lying on the floor and pulled out his phone. He quickly printed a message saying that he would stay with friends today because they were going to drink all night, and sent it to Jin. Without waiting for an answer, he threw the phone back into a pile of your clothes. “No, don't. I want to stay with you tonight. I want to sleep with you and hugging all night. And I absolutely do not care if you do not want it. If you’ll be indignant, I’ll just bind you” he said with a grin.

"Look at you, how you talk" you answered laughing.

“And by the way, looking ahead, I want to say right away. I regard all of this as your positive response, in to give me one last chance. ”

“Okay” you raised your head to meet his eyes. "The last chance. The conditions remain the same: no jealousy, no commitment and no demands. ”

“This time I will not spoil anything”

“You didn’t forget that in a month you’re going on tour, and next week you start preparing for the concert? Just clarifying just in case”

"I remember". But he did not want to think about it now. He will simply rejoice at every moment that you can spend together. Now he was happy and you were in his arms.

[The day before leaving for the tour]

He was happy that he had the opportunity to break out to you, albeit not for long. All this time you managed to meet only for short moments. You came to the hostel several times. He remembered how quickly dragged you into the bathroom while everyone was busy in the kitchen. He left some quick slaps on your ass becouth you were changing into Jin clothes again. “I want only my clothes, my hands, my lips and my cock on or into your body. You understood?” he ripped off the shorts from you and made some hard jerks. He abruptly stepped out of you, straightened his clothes, and stepped out of the bathroom. He left another slap on your bare ass before leaving you choking on excitement. He practically laughed when he remembered that he had paid for it, because you seduced him all evening, after what you left without giving the opportunity to even touch you.

He got to your door and rang the bell. You opened the door, "Hello," you said, and he froze. You were only wearing a transparent lace cape on a naked body. A grocery bag that was in his hand slipped down. He didn't care. He began to take off his clothes while closing the door behind him. He pushed you against the wall, unfastening his pants. In a second he was already deep into you. He fucked you maybe too hard, but he couldn't stop. Each jolt into your tight hot pussy felt too good, he could not restrain loud moans. He did not care if the whole house heard his moans. He kissed you. It was a kiss saturated with lust, desire and debauchery... He could no longer endure, he put his hand between you, covering your clitoris with your fingers. He quickly rubbed it to make you cum. As soon as you squeezed his cock with force, he could no longer restrain his orgasm. You have cum at the same time. His fingers pressed into your skin while he was lost in his pleasure. Your moans mixed up filling the apartment. After a few minutes, you were still standing motionless. He hugged you, holding your body to himself while he was still inside you. “And hello to you” he laughed...

“Usually people kiss first each other at the meeting, rather than fuck hard at the door” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“Didn't I kiss you? As for me, this is the best greeting in all times”

“Didn't you left the grocery bag behind the door?”

“Heck, food” he gently stepped out of you. He took some napkins and wiped himself off. Putting his pants back on, he reached for a T-shirt that was lying on the floor. “Go to the shower, I'll prepare everything for the barbecue for now” he said, turning you towards the shower and slightly slapping you.

"Crazy". Before you could take a step, he slipped fingers into your hair. He turned your head and kissed you passionately. He ran the finger of his second hand over your pussy, playing with your clit, he made your body tremble. He tucked his head away to run a finger across your lower lip before sticking it into your mouth. Your soft moan made you tighten his grip on your hair. He removed a finger from your mouth and kissed you again. He groaned when he felt your and his taste on your lips. His fingers gripped your nipple, making your moan loudly. “You and me are perfect mix” he said with a lustful smile. He turned you and took the second nipple in his mouth eagerly sucking it. He put fingers in your pussy, stretching you. He used sperm as a lubricant to fuck you. He quickly jerk his fingers inside you, each time hitting your clitoris. While your hips not started trembling with an advancing orgasm. He felt you squeeze his fingers. “Wait. Please ... I’ll cumming now ... Fuck!” you gasped at the combination of his mouth on your nipples and his fingers with the force of fucking you. He kissed you again drowning out your moans while you hard cum on his fingers. He slowly drove wet fingers over your clit, stretching your orgasm ... He stepped back, inspecting you from head to toe. Raising his hand, he licked his fingers. His lips glistened with your juices, and he drew his tongue over them, “You are so tasty,” he grinned.

“I think I’m influencing you badly” you said, shaking your head, turning to the side of the bath. He pressed you to the wall, leaving a bite on your neck.

“I like how you influence me” he kissed you once more before letting go. He opened the door and laughed, seeing a bag around which groceries were scattered. He quickly assembled everything and went into the kitchen. He took out a grill and washed the leaves of lettuce and perilla for your barbecue. He chopped vegetables and then set the table. You went into the kitchen just when he had finished arranging everything. You easily patted his ass, “Such a good boy.” He smiled broadly when he turned and saw that you were in his T-shirts and shorts, which he left with you. “You look just unrealistically sexy in my stuff” he left a light kiss on your lips.

You laughed while preparing a barbecue. He did not want to think that he was leaving tomorrow, and would not be able to see you for a very long time. He enjoyed every second spent with you.

“I have homework for you while I am gone” he said.

"Homework? I’ve already left that age when I doing homework, plus I’ve never been a diligent student.”

“For some reason, I am absolutely not surprised at this. Bad girl. Wait you distracted me ”

"Okay, I'm listening to you."

“I want our relationship to become real, and not a demo version. I do not ask you to answer right now. Just think about it while I'm gone. If you'll miss me hard enough, answer me yes. If my absence will be not noticeable to you, I will forget about this conversation, and our relationship will remain at the same level, and this conversation will never happen again ” he tried to sound calm, despite the excitement that made his heart beat at a frantic speed.

“Okay, I'll think about it.”

Having finished dinner, he had to return to dorm and pack his things. The first time I felt sad when going on a tour.

 •…•…•…•…•…•…•…•…•…•…•…•…•

A month and half later...

He was lying on the bed in the room. He liked that the schedule was full. Constant repetition and preparations did not let him lose his mind on how much he missed you. They changed another city. You often chat with him, he told you how their tour goes, telling funny stories that happened to them. Your communication was the same. But he still haven’t answered the homework he gave you. He could not ask you, because he promised you to make any decision, but why he was so sad about it. He took out the phone and wrote to you, sending some photos from their rehearsal. Despite the time difference, you answered quickly enough. He call you, wanting to hear your voice.

"How are you?" he asked as soon as you picked up

"I am pretty good. There is a lot of work now, so I’m practically not comming back at home. ”

You talked discussing who was doing what the last days. Half an hour later, you said goodbye, wishing each other good night.

He went to the shower when he heard a notification sound. He went out and looked at the phone; he was sure that it was either one of the members or a manager. He was surprised when he saw your name on the screen. He opened the message

'By the way, Jungkook. I finally got the answer to your homework. ' His heart skipped a beat. He was worried too much because of which he did not can put at the right letters. After a third attempt, he was finally to write the message correctly

“And what is the answer to your homework?”

His heart was beating hard while he waited for an answer. It seems time has stopped going for him. Waiting seemed like an eternity. Finally got a response

'I miss you!'

He practically squealed with joy. He climbed onto the bed and jumping with joy, like a child who was got best Christmas present. He absolutely didn't care about Jimin, who went into the room and froze in the doorway.

"Are you crazy?" asked Jimin

He ran to Jimin and hugged him, lifting him into the air. He left a kiss on his cheek before releasing and going to the bathroom. Jimin was still standing in the middle of the room and was in deep shock from what just had happened. He went into the bathroom and re-read your message.

“I miss you too, so badly!!!” he quickly sent you an answer.

Now he was completely happy.

_________________________

Part: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [extra]

LIST

[noobsomeexagerjunk]

Left Undone

Ted didn’t want to babysit Bill’s daughter. He didn’t like Bill, and Bill didn’t like him. Why did he have to be the only one in the office who was free for the weekend? Alice didn’t exactly want to be babysat either. She’s too old for that!

Little did Ted and Alice know how much fun they were going to have.

(AU wherein Alice has not dated Deb yet, Bill hasn’t divorced yet either; MASSIVE SPOILERS for BoJack Horseman Season 3 and Moulin Rouge! are discussed)

Friday Prologue | Saturday Chapter | Sunday Chapter | Monday Epilogue

Alice woke up fairly well-rested Saturday morning, forgetting for a second that she wasn’t in her own house.

Ted Spankoffski’s house had 3 bedrooms. One was a master bedroom where Ted slept and also did any other non-CCRP related work. Another was a room where Ted’s nerdy brother stayed for the Summer; ever since Ted got himself a house, his younger brother would stay over at his place during holidays and academic breaks.

Then there was the spare guest bedroom Alice was in where Ted had to set up for her the previous evening. It was very plain.

She went downstairs, explored a little, then found no one. She went back up, knocking on Ted’s bedroom door. No response.

Alice then decided to wash up instead, to feel fresh in the morning. She did all the work in the downstairs bathroom (Ted specifically told her to use that particular bathroom), leaving it as neat as it was before she came to the house.

She tried to knock on the door again, the increased strength of her rapping revealing to her that the room had not been locked, or closed properly for that matter.

She peeked in to find Ted who was still asleep, clutching a laptop like a stuffed toy. His shirt, boxers, and socks tied together with his slumped figure, which also seemed intertwined with the bedsheets. There were used tissues all over the bed, some on the floor making a trail to a semi-used paper towel roll. There were an empty bowl and two empty beer bottles on the bedside table. It reeked of Corona and clearly imported Honey Butter Chips.

Alice stepped in to try to wake Ted up, but the floor creaking below her was enough to make him jolt awake.

“Who the fu-“ Ted calmed down from the shock of waking up so suddenly, “A-Alice?!  Shit, I forgot you’re here,”

“I-Is there anything I can eat?”

Ted rose from his position, sitting upward on his bed, “...are you allergic to eggs? Milk?”

“No, I’m not allergic to either.”

“Good,” Ted yawned, getting up and stretching, “because my fridge is fucking empty.”

“I noticed.”

That was hyperbole...sort of. The only breakfast that could be made from Ted’s pantry was egg toast and cereal. There was enough for both of them to finish all of said egg toast and cereal.

“What were you watching last night?” Alice asked Ted, playing with her fruit loops a little.

“Hm?” He swallowed the last bite of his toast with instant coffee.

“You were crying for about thirty minutes; I couldn't sleep-”

“I-It was a sad episode, alright?!” Ted was slightly embarrassed, hesitating to take another sip of coffee, “That fucking baby seahorse will never know...”

Alice raised a brow, unaware of the reference. She ate some more cereal.

“Don’t give me that look, Alice!” That was Bill’s glare, alright, “BoJack Horseman is a very good show!”

“And you binged the whole thing last night?”

“It’s the new season. I’ve got two episodes left before I finish.” Ted then proceeded to chug down what was left of his coffee.

“My laptop died during my binge but it was late and I was just,” He blew a raspberry, “...I needed to sleep.”

“I’ve done that before, not gonna lie,” Alice place down the spoon, done with her breakfast, “Though, the show I watched was kinda...yeah, it was kinda shitty,”

“Let me guess: you’ve watched it because someone hot’s in it,”

Alice blushed, “I-It’s not just that!”

“Hey hey hey,” Ted chuckled, “I’m guilty of that, I ain’t judging.”

Alice hmphed, “Should I watch that—what’s that show?”

“BoJack Horseman?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm,” Ted then began cleaning up by taking Alice’s utensils, stacking them with his, “it starts weak but gets so much better, like real fucking better. Dunno if you’re old enough to watch it though,”

“I’ve seen some pretty adult stuff! Mom makes me watch Tarantino movies with her, at least whenever Dad's not around sometimes,"

Ted nodded at Alice’s mother’s taste in film, “Aight, but that show just...it just hits somewhere really hard when you’re in your early thirties full of regret and with no discernible life direction but, hey! If you can take it, I’d be impressed.”

Alice blinked, “What? Is it like, psychological horror? The kind rooted in some comedically timed socio-political commentary?”

“Well, arguably.” Ted then got up to bring the dishes in his hands into the kitchen.

“...where can I find it?” She asked with mild interest.

“Netflix,” The sound of dishes landing in a sink was heard from Alice’s seat, “It’s a cartoon too, and like, about a bunch of animals, if those kinds of things float your boat.”

Alice never made it past Episode 1 when she tried to watch it herself, convinced Ted’s taste was shit. Personally, she will regret that.

The rest of that morning left Alice and Ted to their own individual devices. Alice typed away some interesting plots and ideas on her phone. Ted went to finish the last episodes of that sad horse show.

An hour before the time Alice would usually eat lunch, she had been cycling around various plotlines for a potential...well, something. Alice knew she just had to write something.

She was in the living area of the house when she heard Ted sloppily walk down the stairs. His eyes were teary.

"Are you alright, Mr. Spankoffski?" She looked at him with concern.

Ted shakily neared her, hesitating to sit on the couch next to her. He instead placed a languid hand on one of the couch's armrests.

"Please don't die on me, Alice, oh my God..."

He broke into sobs. Alice could only stare at this behavior in confusion.

"Did something bad happen in the show, or...?"

"Fuck, it got worse!" He sniffled, "A-And not, like, n-not in a bad writing context--that show's writing is the shit, Alice! But fuck! F-Fuck!"

Sarah Lynn was not supposed to die, but she did die and the fact left Ted devastated. A part of him knew it was gonna happen as he saw the old man, er, horse, and the poor girl in the motel, missing the Oscars. (Then again, that show had a penchant for hollowing, tragic endings per episode.)

Even in entertainment, in his favorite shows to watch, Ted Spankoffski knew better than to hope. It was more realistic for him.

"You can sit down," Alice moved aside to give Ted space to sit.

Ted cried as he sat next to her, "God, I'm sorry y-you had to see me like this,"

"I've...I-I've had worse breakdowns over a show. I-It's all good."

TV and Movie homophobia still haunted the teenage girl.

It's things like that, whether extravagant or subtle in delivery, that prompted her to write and clarify in any way that she could if only to fight. Alice Woodward was the kind of girl who refused to despair.

"Yeah, A-Alice?"

"Mhm," She nodded, quickly writing "character gets sucked into a tv show???" in her phone's Notes app.

"What if we watched something less depressing instead? You can watch it with me, Alice!" Ted breathed, "You're not bored, are you?"

She added "literally? figuratively? ehhh let the watchers decide??? kshfukdhivg" then kept her phone.

"No! N-No, I know how to keep myself, um, b-busy," Alice then shifted herself into a more comfortable position, "What movies do you have?"

Ted paused before answering, realizing he was hungry.

“You pick,” He said, getting up, “You want pizza with that?”

Alice nodded eagerly, watching Ted head for his phone.

“Wait, what am I supposed to pick?”

“There’s a bunch of CD cases in the drawer under the center table—it’s right in front of you!” Ted's voice decrescendoed as he headed upstairs.

“Drawer?” Alice wondered to herself, bending down to inspect the described center table. There was in fact a drawer.

She pulled it open to find bunches of CD cases, charging wires, and what clearly seemed to be unusable gadgets or “e-junk” as her father would, in a terribly corny way, put it.

Alice noticed a notable amount of movie musicals in one bundle of CD cases. The one that got her attention was Moulin Rouge!, unfamiliar with the title and very taken by the red-haired beauty printed on the cover. There was Jesus Christ Superstar, West Side Story, Rocky Horror Picture Show, and a bunch of Disney Princess movies. Upon further inspection of the non-musical movies, Ted had a diverse taste in film, though it was primarily pretty basic in Alice's opinion, minus a few exceptions.

She closed the drawer, further inspecting the Moulin Rouge CD cover by reading the synopsis on the back. An aspiring writer falls in love with a courtesan but other things get in the way? Alice could not blame the writer, in fact, she was quick to identify with him, even if she had not seen the movie yet.

“Alice?” Ted called from upstairs, “Are you allergic to anything I should know?”

“No,” She called back, playing with the CD cover.

“Good! I’m getting us a Bacon Surprise,”

“Alright,” Apparently Ted chose to order from that  Witchwood Ovens Shop downtown.

“What movie do you wanna watch?” Ted asked as he went back down. Alice showed him the CD cover.

“Moulin Rouge?” He mispronounced, “I actually have that in there?”

Alice handed the cover to Ted as he approached her, “I don’t think I’ve seen this one,”

“No shit, Alice. This movie’s got prostitution; if I know your Dad enough,” He stared at the cover, trying to remember when he got it, "he would make sure you'd never see it. God, I remember seeing this in the theater, like, when I was about your—h-how old are you again?"

"Fifteen, but I'll be sixteen later this year,"

"Eh, close enough," Ted then placed the CD cover down, ready to set up the television set in the living room.

"Nicole Kidman, man..." Ted dusted the CD player, plugging the TV into it, "She was the fucking best in that thing."

"Do you even know what happens in it?" Alice asked as she watched Ted at work, "Or were you just hoping Nicole Kidman would step on you?"

"Don't you fucking shame me, Alice!" Ted gasped back as he blushed, "If you had any taste in women, you'd want the same Goddamn thing."

Ted guessed correctly, keeping the girl from returning his snark.

It was around the Elephant Love Medley when the pizza arrived. Ted was kind enough to pause for Alice as he went to get the pizza. Alice was still recovering from the exhilaration of the past few songs, overwhelmed with the crowd-like effect of the cheesy-Jukebox mashups that introduced Christian to that infamous dancehall, the gratuitous use of slow-mo effects, and the ridiculous use of that Can-Can. It was "Spectacular Spectacular" indeed!

Alice almost choked on her pizza during the Like A Virgin scene. It was also very clear to her, as they watched, that Ted must've forgotten a lot of what had happened in the film given some of his reactions. Ted cursed The Duke repeatedly, particularly at that scene when he found out about the true nature of Christian's play.

Ted believed that he should've seen Satine dying coming. He saw this movie before. The movie literally said so right at the start!

Why, as he watched, did he want that happy ending when the opposite was inevitably going to happen?!

Something about Satine charmed Ted, in a particularly nightmarish way. The idea of further thinking about it was repressed repeatedly, refusing to confront the roots of it all. Surely it was just him being a horny bastard, right? Right?

This totally had nothing to do with the fact that Satine had vibrant red hair, cerulean eyes, polished milky skin, and a beautiful figure.

This totally had nothing to do with how familiar this fictional character seemed to be, resembling someone Ted remembered with intense, bittersweet longing.

This totally had nothing to do with the sight of Satine breathing her last breath on a bed of roses reminding Ted of a memory that he swore hadn't happened yet.

Or it did happen?

Why debate when it happened when it shouldn't have happened at all? It wasn't supposed to happen, whatever that thing was that Ted didn't need to remember at the moment. And yet...

She didn't make a sound. Heartbreak was never so loud.

Alice's sniffling brought Ted back to reality. Ted put a hand on her shoulder.

"God, I-I look so stupid," Alice chuckled out from her tears, rubbing her teary eyes, "they literally say it in the beginning, ugh!"

Ted coddled her closer to him so he could hug her but Alice recoiled back.

"T-Thanks, but we both smell like pizza," Ted nodded back in response.

As he cleaned up the living area, he asked Alice, "How was the movie?"

"It was pretty cheesy," She pulled out her phone again, inspired to write, "but kinda fun? Like, you don't get fun movies with this much energy, at least, when I try to compare, well. You know what I mean."

"Yeah," Ted replied absent-mindedly, "It certainly brings back memories of, well,  certain times."

"I think it kinda comes off as an epic-like piece,"

"No need to wax academic, Alice,"

"You asked for it!"

"I asked about how it was, not for an essay about its themes and shit!" Ted straightened himself up with a chuckle, "It's just a movie, after all."

"It hits different though," She spat back, focused now on her phone.

Witchwood Oven Shop pizzas were notably heavier on the stomach compared to their competitors. Any leftover pizza the two had for lunch that day, Ted proceeded to reheat for dinner. He scavenged his refrigerator for any packs of instant lemonade, which were thankfully there, and prepared two glasses for the two of them.

It was a shitty excuse for dinner, but Alice didn't seem to mind. She was very concentrated on her phone.

"What'cha writing about?"

Alice tilted her phone as to hide it, "It's not really much yet. It's all a bunch of prompts so far."

"You can pitch me stuff," He swallowed a bite, "Which ones really get to you?"

"Well," She hesitated.

"Well?"

"I-I've got a traveling adventure in a fancy, cultured but mysterious new town..."

"Anything else?"

"Still deciding whether I should make it a horror or a comedy. Besides that, it's all gonna rest on a foundation of romance between our main character, and, well..."

"Who?"

"I don't know! It's all I got so far!"

"Hey, it's not bad," Ted sipped his lemonade, "You know, I bet with enough time, it can become something really fucking great. I'd be invested if this was a movie or a staged production of sorts, I don't know,"

"Y-You think it's good, Mr. Spankoffski?"

"Oh hell yeah," He placed the glass down, "Not to be cheesy, but romance really gets me."

"Yeah, same."

"Have you considered making it some sort of horror-comedy romance? I would love it if you could pull it off."

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 55

~*~Sebastian~*~

I stared at her. Stunned. I'm not sure if it's how the conversation went or she wants me and whatever comes with me. Emma is so intentional. Her words carry meaning. She wants to be clear and asks for clarity. This is heaven for my overthinking brain. I’m not stuck wondering what she means nor am I afraid to ask. Because I know she'll answer. Really answer.

"I've got eight years on you, how are you the more mature one?"

"Stabilizing influence and frighteningly direct communication of my second dad."

The expression on her face and deadpanned delivery had me laughing. "I can see that. I'll be the emotionally reactive one and you can be the calming one." Then I remembered. "Although, Eli did tell a story about you laying into some guy in Hawaii at a volleyball game. Ed dumped you in the ocean. I wish there was video."

"There is. You'll have to get dad to send it to you."

Tuesday was a good day. Workout was hard and my abs were already sore, but we'd laughed a lot. Good phone call with mom. The house had come together, she was enjoying some time in the pool, and she'd picked up some piano students. My afternoon was spent in my manager, Emily's, office. Mostly she and I, but a few conference calls. I was about to be busy. The next six weeks I was more gone than home. I was excited about the work. Excited to see friends.

Admittedly, the timing wasn't the greatest, new relationship and all, but I was confident we'd figure it out. This is different. I'd like to say it was because my previous experience is whining and bitching about me being gone so long, knowing I was going to pay for the distance, and trying to front-load my leaving to make it more palatable. While all of those all true, the actual difference is I care. The emotionally unavailable hot and cold thing comes into play here. I put up a wall to block the whining and bitching, not really listening, because it's my job. Bitching at me isn’t going to change anything and I’m not going to feel guilty for doing my job. Well, I do, but it just pisses me off because I shouldn’t.  The expectation of gifts, dinners, or a vacation to make up for being gone made those a lot less fun. And I was never successful at cramming a bunch of stuff in before I left, because my work didn't start when I left. It starts weeks before. I don’t leave for filming for a month, but I’m already prepping: gym reading, watching things, research, and studying the script. I get pretty singularly focused. I don't know any other way. And when pushed I shut down. I don't respond. I brood. And I appear cold. None of this is right. Some just is. Some is my fault. Getting to where I didn't care about her (any of the previous hers) feelings and concerns with me gone was a side effect of shutting down and I regret doing that. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about her feelings. It was feeling ineffectual to do anything about it and my self-protection kicking in. Looking back, saying effectively “deal with it” was incredibly insensitive. Not proud of it.

But now, sitting here looking at my schedule I’m finding places I can find some time for us. We’ll figure it out. I can tell you what won’t happen. Emma won't whine where I block her out. She's not going to emotionally blackmail me for things, which will make me want to give. And she’ll leave me alone to prep, let me bounce things off her, or cook something to remind me to eat. I need all of those. I care how Emma's going to feel about me being gone. I care about what we’ve begun and how we'll keep in touch. I also know that while I'm away she will carry on living the life she had before she had me and be just fine.

Emma had practice tonight and a game tomorrow. It was after eight when she called. She was in a tank top and her hair was wet from her shower. I caught up on her day before leading into mine. "I have good news and bad news."

"OK." Emma drug out the word, wary of my response.

"When I get back from Canada, I've got some time to spend with you. Then I’m gone for the month of July. Fashion show, audition and meetings, comic con, then filming in Rome." Playing off last night’s conversation, I added. "I'm not expecting a bad reaction."

"Well, that's good." Her hand moved toward the screen and I chose to believe she was touching my face. "I'II miss you, but I’m excited for you. And me getting to hear about what you're doing. Living vicariously."

I'd had some time to think. I had a lot of thoughts on plans. This was the soonest.  "You get back Tuesday, doubleheader Wednesday, and I get back late Thursday. What's your weekend look like?"

"Empty. I'll come to you. You'll barely be home if you come here. I can come anytime Friday. I'll be done with work except maybe packing up my room. I can do that whenever."

"Early Friday. Thursday night." I wanted to maximize our time. "I have to do some work."

"I can amuse myself."

"Maybe the shop you liked so much will be having a sale?" I laughed at the way her eyes lit up. "July fourth weekend I'm at a fashion show. Wanna go to Paris?"

"What?" Her face moved closer to the screen. I’d surprised her.

"Not necessarily Paris, but near. The third is the show. Have you been to Paris?"

"Family spent the summer in Europe when we were thirteen. Then Pearl Jam tours. Love Paris."

"Not much more than a long weekend, but museums and I'm sure we can find some romantic Paris shit to do."

"I would love to go to Paris with you."

That was good because I'd already made reservations. "California for about two weeks then straight to Italy for at least that. Depends on how long shooting takes. Hopefully back in time to join you in Chicago. Then nothing until the end of August. Will and I had been talking about a group of us going away. We were waiting for my schedule. What do you think about a group trip and we stay a little longer or go off alone? It would be a beach somewhere."

"You going to rub sunscreen on me?"

"Um yay, part of my volleyball job. Beer bitch and sunscreen applier."

“I’m in."

"End of August is a Disney thing. Labor Day weekend is the Toronto Film Fest. Little stuff in there, nothing big. No idea past then."

She laughed, eyes wide, and moving her head in all directions "It's crazy like a tour schedule. I'm jealous. I love touring."

"I thought about Rome, but the schedule's tight. You wouldn't see me."

"I wasn't trying for an invite. I'll get some of my summer PD hours done so I won't have to worry about them. Make sure I've got time for us."

I leaned back on the couch, "That was easy."

She glared at me. "I thought you weren't expecting a bad reaction?"

I shook my head, "No, no, I wasn't. Just an observation. Thought I might have to talk you into the beach." I held it a second before smiling, "Not really. I do know it’s a lot."

"I will always go to a beach."

"You’re not allowed to play volleyball."

"Did you get the video from dad?"

"About an hour ago." I'd enjoyed it several times. "You're a feisty little thing."

Wednesday was a day of pictures and texts. After the gym, I settled in my extra room to prep. I had my laptop on the table, a stack of books on top of my script, and a huge bottle of water. I took a picture and posted it to Instagram along with one of me with a pencil between my teeth and pulling my hair.

Emma ~ How'd you get a picture of your expression during your last blow job?

Sebastian ~ Hidden camera in bedroom. You should see the other things I have. Coupling Season 1. "The Cupboard of Patrick's Love."

Emma ~ “You really don't have enough blood for both ends of your body, do you?"

Sebastian ~ Very good, Sally.

 Love that she can quote one of my favorite shows.

After lunch, Emma posted a picture of her in the middle of a group hug with her students. "I'll miss my munchkins.”  I sent a sad face emoji.

Then I fell into a hole. I got pulled into my research and reading and the next time I picked up my phone it was one a.m. I need time like this and put my phone on do not disturb. The only thing that comes through is two calls from the same number within a few minutes. Anyone important knows how to reach me. Emma knew, but she didn't. Not even when the Demonic Crickets won their game. She posted several pictures, but I got a much better one in a text. Emma with her back to the camera in her team tank, arm up flexing her bicep, and her looking over her shoulder smiling at me. The gold flecks in her eyes were sparkling and the darker ring made the green more intense.

Emma ~ Hope you're getting a lot done. Internally anyway.  XOXO

Sebastian ~ * 12 hours later * Yeah, I did. I'm hungry. Congrats on the win. Picture is beautiful.

Sebastian ~ You're beautiful

 Her thank you came while I was working out. After a shower, I fell back into my hole until it was time for therapy.

I'd been seeing Celie for a long time. Frequency varied. She had a dark brown bob, glasses, and a round face. At this point, I could read her as well as she could me. If she was looking at me over her glasses, she thought I was full of shit. No words needed. She was about ten years older than me and her style worked for me. It was a great one-sided friendship.

I took my regular spot on the blue couch, "How are you today, Celie?"

Celie smiled. She had the unconditional positive regard thing down. I say that, but she does genuinely like me. Most of the time. I can be a pain in the ass. "I've had a good day and after you I get to go home. You seem to be in a good mood. Tell what's going on with you, Seb."

I was always her last client of the day. Sometimes I needed more than an hour. "I am in a good mood. I met somebody. Last time I saw you I was going to help my parents move. I met Emma there. In a grocery store, if you can believe that."

"Sounds like you can't."

"I asked her to dinner in under fifteen minutes."

She widened her eyes in disbelief. Exactly my point. "Did you? Good for you, Seb. A complete stranger. What led you to ask her out?"

"I was all covered up and she tells me I looked like a rehab patient checking into the clinic up the road. But she was kind to me. A sketchy stranger. She didn’t know who I was until we were outside and I introduced myself. She helped me find the things on my list and we chatted." I put my hands in front of my chest, fingers splayed. "She felt good. I didn't know why, just enough that I knew I wanted to know more.”

“And what do you know now?”

I spent the next several minutes telling Celie the salient points. We’ve been doing this long enough that explaining isn’t necessary. She’ll recognize why things are important. My face hurt from smiling after I was finished talking about Emma. I stopped short of the whole conversation on Sunday.

“Besides the obvious early relationship high, how are you feeling about all this?”

“Good. Happy. Hopeful. The only concerning thing was Saturday I woke up from a night terror, panic attack. I got myself calmed down pretty quick, wrote for a while, and once Emma got up I went for a run.”

“Even with being happy, there’s been quite a bit of emotional activity. I’m pleased that you’ve only woken up once. Much better. What do you suspect triggered you?”

I took a deep breath, “Emma and I wound up in this conversation Sunday afternoon. A couple of my friends at the party had told her I wasn’t acting like I normally do with women, but more like I am with friends. This led to a conversation about my relationship issues. I’m not the same with her. She really doesn’t know that version of me. I think that’s why I had the anxiety. It was the night after the party but before the conversation. First time we’d been around my friends. I think it was not because I’m scared, but because I’m not. Like you said, there’s been a lot of emotional shit going on and I’m good. Remarkably good.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Emma is different. She’s incredibly kind and is . . . gentle. Not weak though. She’s strong.”

Celie shook her head, “When I think of gentle people it’s a combination. They can be painfully truthful, but their manner makes others able to listen. They have a compassion for others.”

“Exactly! I noticed she knew everyone. She talked to everyone and used their name. I asked and she said she looked at their nametags and you never know what someone’s day has been. That might be the first nice thing that’s happened all day. I know it’s a little thing, but it’s her. She’s like that with me. She doesn’t try to talk me out of being anxious or overthinking. She doesn’t think my insecurities are stupid. They’re all just part of me.”

“She accepts you.”

“Right. The more we got to know each other, the more we talked, I felt safe. She doesn’t do those things I usually shut down over. I don’t feel the need to protect myself. She’s very different.”  Celie was looking at me over her glasses. Uh oh. “You’re giving me the look.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Why?  I thought I was doing good. I asked out a stranger and got this amazing woman.”

“Sebastian, as quick as you are to fault yourself, you’re slow to take credit.”

“Take credit?” I didn’t know what she was talking about.

She leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees. “You think this relationship is different because of Emma. You lucked out and met an accepting, kind, gentle person.”

“Yes. No. Both. Emma is different and she makes me different.”

Celie made a loud, jarring beeping noise. This was new.

“Ok, I guess I’m wrong.”

“You are. Not completely. You’re not giving yourself enough credit. Any credit. You’ve worked very hard. You’ve read. You’ve journaled. You’ve talked. You’ve done things I’ve asked you to even if you didn’t understand or want to. I’ve seen you grow. To give responsibility for this relationship being different all to Emma is dangerous. What’s going to happen when she falls off this pedestal you’ve put her on? Is that going to be an excuse to shut down and protect yourself? Fall back on old habits.”

I could feel my eyebrows pulled down and the scowl on my face. “So you’re saying this isn’t as good as I think it is.”

“Not at all. I’m saying it’s got as much to do with you as it does her. Previously you would have never asked out a woman you met in a grocery. But that seems to be the furthest you’re going with how you’re different. I do not believe for one second that no other woman you’ve gone out with has been kind and accepting. Or would have been if you would have been able to show them you.  You used to do things to test them. You’d say or do things to see how they’d react. As we’ve talked, you weren’t being real, so you don’t know that their reactions were.”

I nodded then looked down, “I know. Pretty manipulative.”  I felt Celie’s hand on my arm and looked back up. Her face was very soft with a smile.

“Stop, Seb. You need to be proud of yourself. You are doing things differently. You have learned from your past, grown, and come a long way in accepting yourself. Warts and all. You have shown Emma who you are, even the parts you don’t like so much. She can have credit for how she’s responded to you, but you deserve the credit for being brave enough to show her in an honest and authentic way. That allowed her to respond in an equally honest and authentic way.”

I grabbed a tissue from the ever-present box on the table and wiped the wet from my face. Neither the first nor the last time I’d cry in this room.

"If you had met her even a year ago, with her exactly as she is now, this relationship would be very different."

"The wedding."

"Excuse me?"

Yeah, non sequitur. "I was supposed to go to a friend’s wedding last summer but didn't because there was a change in my shooting schedule. Emma was at the wedding. You're right. Had I met her then," I shook my head. “I wouldn't have been ready for her and now could have never happened."

Celie shrugged, "Probably not."

I sniffed and wiped my eyes, "How do I get her off this pedestal I’ve put her on?"

"You seem pretty smitten. Maybe not take her off, just lower it a little." I laughed and she went on. "What you do is own your part. You have been making choices to improve yourself. You have been making choices to go out of your comfort zone. And you have been making choices to let her know you. Emma's been making similar choices to be with you. I'm sure you know what she's come through to be where she is. It seems like you complement each other. Recognize this is both of you waking up and choosing to be with each other. Talk and negotiate what that means. Tell her what you want. And when you're not talking you listen. Listen to what she needs from you. The most important for you is to keep processing the feelings with her. She's the only one who can help those make a picture. And you need to give her the same gift. She has things she’s not so proud of and afraid for you to know about her. We all do. You will need to accept her and treat her with gentle kindness she gives you.”

I was crying again. "She told me. I told her she was different than the others. She asked if maybe I was different."

Celie snickered, "I like her."

"You would. She speaks therapy."

"I want to be very clear, Seb. She sounds wonderful and she may make you better. You sound wonderful and I bet you make her better too. That’s how it should work in a relationship. You help each other along. It takes two people with self-awareness making choices to do what it takes. You both have to choose growth, honestly, humility, vulnerability, and sacrifice. I hear you holding up your end. I’ve not heard you do this before. And while she may be the right woman, you've become the right man. Please, please, do not underestimate how much work you've put in to become the right man for another person.”

"I want to go home and cry for an hour or so."

"I wish Emma was here for you."

I shook my head with a grimace, "It's going to be ugly until I get it out."

"Yes. I think Emma would want to be there to hold you and you'd find more acceptance and comfort in that than you can imagine."

At home, I grabbed a beer, sank down in my favorite chair, and cried. I felt everything all at once but fought to untangle the threads. Sad was remnants of the past and dissipated quickly. Its friends regret and shame fought a little harder to stick around, but they were toxic and needed to go. Pride and relief were together too. Celie was right. I had worked hard. An infinite number of hours had gone into figuring myself out. There have been so many times I thought I'd be stuck forever. Sometime in the last two years that I've been without a girlfriend, all the work must have come together. In the last two years I've been filming almost nonstop. Five movies have come out. Two of which were Marvel circuses. It's like all the therapy (and the work that goes with it) knitted me back together while I was busy filming and living my life. Celie had told me to trust the process. I couldn't rush it or make changes happen before it was time. Patience. I am inherently impatient. Pride was for the work. Relief was for seeing results. Finally.

Next was happy. I’m in a good place. I'm excited about the movie I’m making. I have supportive, fun friends, and a loving family. I don't need a girlfriend to be happy, but one does bring everything together. I like having a person who is mine. Mine in the sense of us experiencing life together. The good and bad. I like that. I want that. And now I have it. The beginnings of it, anyway.

After I pulled my shit together, I wanted to talk to Emma. I wanted support. Maybe not support, but I felt raw. I wanted someone to soothe the raw nerves, to sit with me while all this new stuff integrated. I wish she was here. What I needed was a hug.

Sebastian ~ Can you talk?

I don't like that I asked. It feels insecure and I have zero reasons to feel insecure. I quickly decided to cut myself some slack.

My phone rang and I connected to FaceTime. "Hey." Her bright smile and obvious happiness to see me did wonders to soothe those raw nerves.

Emma's face went from a smile to wide-eyed concern. "Sebastian, what’s wrong? You look like you've been crying. What happened?" Before I could answer, she jumped to a correct conclusion. "You had therapy. Good, bad, or cathartic tears?"

"Mostly the last one."

Her hand went to her chest, "Ok." She picked up what I assumed was her iPad and crossed to the chair in her bedroom. I could see her pull her knees up when she put her feet on the ottoman. She rested the iPad on her knees.

"Mostly a repeat of what we talked about Sunday. Celie said I wasn't giving myself enough credit for the work I've done. My growth."

As Emma had alluded to the same thing, I expected a smile or some acknowledgment of her asking if I was different. Instead, I got, "What do you think?"

"I think I still need to work on not being so hard on myself." I smiled because that statement was me still being hard on myself. "When Celie pointed out how I've changed I could see it and was proud of myself. I can’t see it on my own yet, but I'll get there. I never thought anyone would get past my walls. It wasn't someone getting in, it was me getting out." More goddamned tears.

Emma reached out and touched the screen. "I‘m so happy for you. Proud of you too."

Her words felt like a hug. Close enough for now. "Thank you."

"I know you're a grown man, but I wish I was there. Crying alone sucks."

"Oh," I laughed a little, "the chances of us having a messy reunion are high."

"Why?"

"A lot of you and I talk today. I know me, it's gonna hit me when I see you."

"I should warn you. I have a strict policy that nobody cries alone in my presence."

I smiled at her exaggerated southern accent with the "Steel Magnolias" quote. "See ... gonna be messy."

[eleanor-writes-stuff]

a language that i never knew existed before - Day 18

Here’s a modern AU for AO3′s valeriacatulli, who requested “something involving Reylo being musicians or arty filmmakers”.

This one took some time to figure out, but I hope you enjoy this little snippet of Patreon-funded documentary filmmaker Rey and Human Disaster™ rock star Kylo Ren. Thanks for the prompt, and happy holidays! 🎄🎁❄️

If anyone else would like a little Reylo ficlet for the holidays, here’s your chance! I’ll be filling requests until Boxing Day, so be sure to drop by and select a prompt!

25 Days of Reylo Also available on AO3

It really is a beautiful night for an engagement party.

The Cantina’s warm, welcoming glow reaches across the street, beams of golden light coming to a stop right before Rey’s feet where she leans against the window of a closed health food specialist. The night is surprisingly cool for once; not cold enough to necessitate a jacket, but nice enough that her hair isn’t plastered to the back of her neck. The streets are quiet save for Cantina and the club down the street, since everything else in the area closes by eight at the latest on a weeknight.

Rey leans against the window with a sigh, tips her head back to look up at the moon. It really is a beautiful night, perfect for Finn and Poe and the thirty family and friends they’ve chosen to share their happiness with tonight.

From the window Rey spies Poe’s father standing up and carefully clinking a spoon against his glass. Time for speeches, apparently, and Rey knows she should get back in there, knows that it’ll be too obvious if the maid of honor stays away from the party any longer, but–

“Was Cinderella not invited to the party?” a voice asks from somewhere behind her, somewhere in the darkened alley between the health store and the club.

With her heart racing and her body poised for flight, it takes Rey a moment to place a voice she would recognize anywhere in the world. She peels herself away from the window, carefully ventures closer and squints into the darkness until a low chuckle reaches her ears, accompanied by an achingly familiar figure stepping into the dim light of the sidewalk.

“Hello, Rey,” Kylo Ren slurs, half his body weight supported by the brick exterior of Silencer, the club he must’ve just emerged from. “What’re you doing out here, creeping on those innocent people?”

She is not creeping, but Rey finds she can’t quite be bothered to deny his allegation when there’s a much more pressing matter to attend to. “Are you…” she steps closer, takes in Kylo’s glazed eyes and slumped posture with slow-building incredulity until– “Are you drunk?”

He shrugs, the motion clumsy and almost comical on his alcohol-loosened limbs. “So what if… if I am? You’re not my mom, you can’t tell me what to do.”

Rey doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry or turn her back on him and leave him to fend for himself. “So what if you–” she echoes with a faint note of hysteria in her voice. “Oh my god, Kylo, what the fuck is wrong with you? I’ve heard the rumors, but I never thought–” never thought I wouldn’t recognize the man you’ve become.

The Kylo she knew – the Ben she knew – would never have gotten drunk. He’d seen what it had done to his grandfather, seen what it had done to his father, and vowed to never, ever lose control of himself to such an extent that he could not be held accountable for his behavior, that he had an excuse to be an asshole.

That was the man she fell in love with. This childish, clumsy, lumbering oaf of an idiot? This one she doesn’t know at all, hasn’t even spoken to since the day she walked out on him and their life together.

“Aww, you kept… kept tabs on me,” Kylo hiccups, clapping a hand over his mouth about ten seconds too late. It’d be funny if it didn’t feel so wrong to see him this way. “I kept… kept up with you too, you know? Saw your new video, the one where you said the city is gonna fall into the sea. Boosh,” he purses his lips, attempts to mimic a crashing wave with his mouth and his hands.

Rey crosses her arms over her chest. “It doesn’t fall into the sea, the sea rises over it,” she explains with a roll of her eyes even as she realizes how pointless it is to have this conversation with a drunk man. And not just any drunk man, but this particular drunk idiot. “Why’d you even watch it, anyway? I thought you said they’re a waste of time – mine, yours, and everyone’s,” she spits, throwing his words back at him four years too late.

Kylo gives her a silly, lopsided grin. “They are,” he says brightly, as if he isn’t insulting her documentaries to her goddamn face. “S’a good way to waste time when I’ve got five minutes before I go on and I miss you and I wanna hear your voice.”

Ice sneaks into Rey’s veins, causing all of her muscles to tense. Is he seriously– now? After all this time? After everything he did? Really?

“I… I don’t have the time for this,” Rey mutters to herself and makes to cross the street. Trust Kylo Ren to show up and present himself as an even more uncomfortable alternative to celebrating her friends’ engagement in the very restaurant where she’d once planned to celebrate her own.

“Rey, wait–” he calls after her, suddenly sounding more alert than before, and she’s not going to turn back, she’s not she’s not she’s not, but then there’s an awful racket and a trash can clatters to the ground and a pained cry rings throughout the street.

“Oh my god, Ben!”

She runs to his side without consciously deciding to do so, drops down to her knees and pulls him into his lap before she can process what it’ll be like to hold him again after all this time.

“What the hell did you do, you drunken idiot?” Rey demands, sweeping hair out of his face to find a bright red gash on his cheek. There are scrapes on his hands too, little cuts on his palms and scratches on both his arms all the way up to his short sleeves, and a quick glance at the overturned trash can finds shards of broken beer bottles everywhere, the biggest one even slightly bloodied by the cut on his cheek.

“Fell,” he manages to force out through gritted teeth as Rey’s hand hovers uselessly above his wound. “No surprise there, right?” the idiot laughs, only to hiss as the movement of his face aggravates the pain. “Always falling for you. Right from the beginning, remember when you walked into Poe’s house and I tripped over my own fucking feet like a complete loser–”

“Oh my god, will you shut the fuck up?” Rey commands him with a voice that’s thicker than she’d like. She swallows the lump in her throat, uses her free hand to reach for her phone. Thank god for dresses with pockets.

Rose picks up on the fourth ring. “Hey, can you come out here for a bit? Discreetly, please, I don’t want the guys to worry.”

“Snap’s in the middle of a speech, I’ll try to sneak out as soon as I can,” Rose whispers back before she hangs up and leaves Rey to deal with a lapful of idiot on her own for the next few minutes.

“Close your eyes, I need to see how bad it is,” she barks harshly, turning on her flashlight without waiting to see if he’ll comply.

“Ah, fuck,” Kylo grumbles when she shines the light in his eyes, rushing to obey her order. She focuses on the cut, but when Rey starts tracing it with her eyes from one end on his jaw to the other right beneath his eye, she finds herself catching sight of the worst dark circles she’s ever seen.

From there it only gets worse: he’s so pale his skin is practically translucent, his lips are chapped and bleeding, and if she were to look up the word gaunt right now she’d probably find a picture of Kylo Ren in the dictionary. And that’s just his face, Rey realizes with a sinking feeling in her stomach as one hand reaches down to wrap around his bicep.

She hadn’t noticed it from afar, not in the darkness and with him in his leather jacket, but he’s so much skinnier than she remembers him being, so much weaker.

“Ben,” she breathes, and her voice is thick with tears again. “Ben, what happened to you?”

Had he really fallen in his haste to follow after her? Or had he just collapsed, a result of whatever this is rather than the alcohol in his system? And he doesn’t even smell heavily enough of alcohol for him to be this far gone; Rey lived with this man for years, knows that it takes a small distillery for him to get anywhere near tipsy. None of this is adding up.

“How long can you spare?” the smartass mumbles, still squeezing his eyes shut. “Because the answer is a lot.”

She’s missed that, Rey realizes with a pang. His awful sense of humor, his deadpan delivery, him.

“Give me an itemized list,” she manages to croak out, tucking her phone back into her pocket.

Kylo opens his eyes, looks up at her and makes no move to shift from her lap. “Haven’t eaten in days, haven’t slept properly in months, started drinking to forget and now I have to keep drinking to keep forgetting, didn’t really think that one through–”

“But why?”

He blinks at her, a slow, confused movement of his eyelids. “Because I’m a rock star. S’what rock stars do.”

This is what rock stars do, Rey. We go on huge tours and we’re always on the road and yes, if a groupie asks me to sign her tits after paying hundreds of dollars for our shit then I’m gonna fucking sign her tits and smile at her while I do it–

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Rey says, choking on a sob as she does. She’s done here. Rose will be out any minute now, and then they’ll call an Uber or something to drive him to the hospital and get him fixed up. He’s a big boy, he’s a rock star, he can handle himself while she goes back to the party and pretends none of this ever happened–

“Yeah, I know,” he whispers, and before she knows it he’s raised one hand to brush away tears she hadn’t even realized she’s crying. “But it’s too late to change that, isn’t it?”

You have the saddest eyes in the world, Rey had once told him, laughingly at the time. Now he pins her in place with those sad eyes and something in her breaks and against all common sense Rey leans down to press her lips to his forehead.

“Not too late, it’s never too late,” she assures him in a fevered whisper. “You’re doing to yourself what I watch people do to the planet every day, Ben, but if there’s still hope for earth then there’s still hope for you.”

Do you really think any of this is going to make a difference? Grow the fuck up, Rey. You’re throwing away your future to save the fucking trees? Everyone wants to work with you, fucking Luke Skywalker is willing to come out of retirement for you, and you’re choosing to go film oily birds and stuck turtles and whatever the fuck on your own dime instead? You’re choosing to leave me for some hopeless crusade that’s never going to amount to anything?

Ben looks up at her with those sad, sad eyes.

“You really think so?”

“I know so,” she tells him as noise spills out of the Cantina from the open door and the click of Rose’s heels grows closer. “You just need to choose, Ben. Choose to walk away from this. Choose to change your life. Please, please, I don’t want to see you like this anymore–”

He reaches for her hand, laces their fingers together. “I can’t do it alone, Rey.”

Rey squeezes his hand, gives him a smile. “You’re not alone.”

She holds his hand the whole way to the hospital, and never leaves his side again.

This is two thousand words long and completely off-topic. Moral of the story, kids: always come up with an outline, even when you think it's just going to be a short ficlet.

As always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! Please don't hesitate to like/reblog/comment; I'm on a mission to write seven more ficlets today and feedback will help fuel my mad man's quest.

[champagnememoirs]

Previously on Soft as a Rose, Sweet as Wine

Lexa walked through her front door and hung Aries' leash on the hook next to her keys. She heard noise coming from her living room and walked in to find Anya sitting very comfortably on her couch with her feet propped up on the coffee table. There was a bag of chips beside her and a soda can next to her feet.

"Why did I think it was a good idea to give you a spare key to my house?" Lexa moved through her home picking up Anya's shoes and setting them by the door and then moving to the kitchen to get a coaster to place under her drink. "Ever heard of coasters? Oh wait, of course you have! Every time you come over and I tell you to use one."

Anya simply rolled her eyes and kept her focus on the TV. "Whatever sis, you know you love it when I come over and brighten your day with my presence," Anya took a handful of chips and handed them to Aries who was sitting on the floor looking up at her adoringly.

"Oh my god! What are you doing? You know I am training him! He's never going to learn to behave if you keep spoiling him and sneaking him junk food!" Lexa called Aries over in an attempt to get him away from the contraband snacks. Instead, he just gave a quick bark and finished his chips before moving over to where Lexa was waiting. "You two will be the end of me."

"Relax sis, a couple of chips won't kill him" Lexa just rolled her eyes, knowing there was no use in continuing her chastising when Anya was never going to listen. Besides, Aries loved her and she couldn’t really blame Anya completely for giving in to his adorable puppy eyes. Instead, she just grabbed a handful of chips for herself and settled into her couch. “Why are you even here?"

"Mom called. She wanted to know if you were coming over for Aiden's birthday next week. Said you haven't been answering your phone, and you better call her back before she comes here in person." Anya loved delivering messages from their mother. She always put on a smirk and never hesitated to tell their mom when Lexa rolled her eyes during her delivery.

Anya and Lexa were not biological sisters, but blood could not make their bonds any tighter. Anya had come into the Wood's family when Lexa was seven and Anya was ten. Lexa's mother wanted more children, but when the doctor told her she wouldn't be unable to have any more, she decided to become a foster mother instead. Her father loved kids just as much as his wife and was always happy to go along with anything that made her happy.

Anya had bounced around from family to family since she was three and she was a little hardened and mistrusting by the time she came to live with the Woods family. But Lexa always wanted a sister and she quickly bonded with the blonde rugged girl. Despite Anya's efforts to push her away, Lexa was so persistent to love her, that eventually Anya had no choice but to love the wild haired girl as well. Mr. And Mrs. Woods were kind and loving to Anya which made her feel like she belonged for once in her life. After a couple of years, the Woods adopted Anya and despite the fact that they were as alike as night and day; Anya and Lexa were inseparable.

A few years after Lexa went to college, their parents adopted Aiden. Lexa always complained that Aiden had it too good now that Anya was out of the house. But the truth was that she loved Aiden as much as Anya and she always found new ways to spoil him as much as she could; as did Anya.

"Did you take Aries for a walk by 5th again?" Anya asked with a smirk.

"No," Lexa's answer was too quick and Anya quickly picked up on it. "Liar. How long are you going to walk an extra thirty minutes just trying to run into that blonde again? It's been like three weeks dude. Move ON!" Anya actually loved the fact that Lexa was still pining over the mystery blonde. It gave her material to tease her. Which, she believed, was the right of all big sisters.

"There is nothing to move on from," Lexa shrugged her shoulders and gave her attention to Aries who was lying on the couch beside her. "She was cute, no big deal. I don't care if I don't see her again."

"Then why do you keep waking you dog in the same place where you last saw her?"

"Aries likes that street. There's a lot of flowers on the sidewalk and he likes to smell them as we walk." Lexa replied indignantly.

"Uh huh, whatever little sis," Anya rolled her eyes and just like that, she lost interest. "What are you getting Aiden for his birthday?"

“Oh no, I’m not telling you. That’s why you’re really here isn’t it?” Lexa was glad to move the conversation along but she was now worried about her sister’s real motives for breaking in to her house. “If I tell you, you would just try to buy something bigger and better and I have a really good one this year already planned."

"Not better than mine," her sister shot back.

Lexa rolled her eyes, she would not be baited into another gift war. Last time she let herself get dragged into Anya's friendly competitions, it cost her a fortune, and she got in trouble for buying her brother a motorcycle. Especially because Aiden was only turning six. Selling that thing had been a nightmare.

Lexa and Anya spent the afternoon talking and watching Netflix while Aries lounged around the house and occasionally went through the doggy door for a sprint around the backyard. They walked Aries again in the evening – this time just around the neighborhood – and returned to Lexa's for some pizza and beer. She loved quiet nights in with her sister. She was her best friend and the only person she felt she could talk to and be herself with.

As the night grew darker and they could no longer keep their eyes from closing, Lexa went up to her room to rest while Anya took to the guest bedroom. Aries was close behind and jumped and curled up on Lexa's bed. Lexa had tried to get him to sleep on his bed by the door but she couldn't resist his sad little face when he cried to be let up. "You're going to kick me out of this bed and make ME sleep by the door one day," she said with a smile as she gently rubbed behind his ears and gave him a kiss on top of his head. "If you're good, we can take another walk by 5th on Sunday and maybe, if we're lucky, we will run into Clarke." A smile flitted across her face at the thought of running into the blonde again.

Clarke looked in the mirror as she put on her earrings. Raven's firm was honoring her latest genius design which had brought the them the highest paying account in their history. Raven was the youngest architect at her firm and was proud of every accomplishment she had achieved. She had worked hard to become the best and made no apologies for her genius. Those who could afford it, fought to have her create some breathtaking masterpiece for them.

"You ready babe?" Octavia yelled out as she made her way through the apartment to Clarke's bedroom door.

"Almost!" Clarke was on the floor looking for her other shoe as Octavia walked in. "Lost shoe again?" Octavia asked already knowing the answer. Clarke just looked up and smiled. Organizational skills were just not at the top of the list of things she was good at. She knew it; and so did anyone who ever spent at least five minutes with her. She found her shoe under the bed and did quick work of getting it on. "Ready!" She yelled jumping up from her bed and twirling so Octavia could admire her outfit. The midnight blue dress hugged all her curves perfectly and ended just a few inches above her knee.

The two girls left the apartment and got into the cab that was waiting just outside their building door. When they arrived at the building – which Raven had designed – they took in the structure with awe. At the top of the steps, two men in tuxedos asked for their invitation and looked up their names on their clipboard. "Miss Griffin, Miss Blake, Please enjoy your evening," The man on the right subtly looked them both up and down admiring the two beautiful women in their stunning attire. "Thank you" replied Octavia with a flirtatious smile.

"Keep it in your pants O, we haven’t even made it past the door yet." A quiet laugh and a smile was Octavia's only response.

The inside of the building was even more luxurious and magnificent than the outside. There were stunning chandeliers and ceilings that seemed to be touching the sky. Wooden beams gave the building a rustic feel that somehow tied everything else together.

"Clarke, Octavia! Over here!" Raven's voice came from a table near the back of the room next to a stage. They made their way to the table, noticing the sea of men in suits and women in high end cocktail dresses on their way.

"I think that woman's dress costs more than our apartment" Clarke observed as she sat next to Raven. "You're probably right" Raven answered with a laugh.

"Congratulations, we're so proud of you," Octavia said as she took a seat on the other side of Raven.

"Thanks guys. I'm so happy you are here with me today," Raven smiled and took a sip of her champagne. "Doesn't the place look great? The event planners we hired have done an amazing job. Octavia, you should get their info. Aren't you having an event to celebrate the anniversary of your restaurant in a couple months?"

"Yeah I am. The place does look great." Octavia acknowledged.

All three of them looked around the room taking in the decoration. The light of the candles at each table bounced off the chandeliers giving the room a fairy tale look. The room was simply decorated, but somehow, the light of the candles and the wisteria hanging from the ceiling made the room seem magical.

The presenter called the attention of the guests and asked everyone to take their seats. After a few minutes, he was followed by several of the firm's most important partners taking the stage one by one to praise and congratulate Raven on her work and skills. Octavia and Clarke toasted and smiled with the crowd after every speech, and they felt immense pride for their friend. Only they knew how much Raven had sacrificed, struggled and overcome to be where she was now. Only they knew about her late nights studying and working two jobs to pay for college. Both Clarke and Octavia's parents had offered to help Raven pay for school. They loved her, and were happy to help, but Raven wouldn't accept any help but her own. When it was Raven's turn on stage, she thanked her partners, her staff, and made a few jokes. At the end, she looked at the girls sitting at her table and thanked her family for their support. Clarke and Octavia knew she was speaking to them. They were the only family Raven had. A tear escaped Clarke as she looked up at Raven being praised for all her hard work. "OK, enough of the mushy stuff. Ladies and gentlemen, let's party!" With that, Raven left the stage and made her way back to her friends. They congratulated her and hugged her; but shortly after, Raven was called for pictures and asked to greet a list of people who were just dying to meet her. She excused herself, and went off with the photographers and press.

"Well, it's an open bar, so it would be a shame to let it go to waste." Clarke stood and winked at Octavia. "I'm going to get a drink. Want one?"

"No, I'm going to go introduce myself to that tall drink of water over there. He's been giving me the eye and it would be a shame to let that much sexiness go to waste."

Clarke rolled her eyes and stood. "You have your priorities and I have mine," she laughed and gave Octavia's shoulder a light squeeze as she walked by. At the bar, Clarke took a glass of champagne and started to look around the room for any familiar faces. From behind her, she heard a familiar voice that made her heart skip a beat.

"Alright people, make sure drinks are well stocked. Hors d'oeuvres and champagne should be making their way around the room. Don’t forget to smile!"

Clarke turned around to look for the familiar face but only saw two young men who were busy pouring drinks and taking new orders. Great, now I am hearing her voice in my head she thought to herself with a sigh. But then, she heard it again. "Nyko, can you please check the sound system? I have heard this song like four times already. Don't let it get repetitive." Clarke turned around again and notice this time that the voice was coming from a walkie hanging from the bartender's belt. Her face lit up with a smile before she could stop it. Could it mean she was here? Would she get to see those green eyes again? She made her way through the room trying to find her. She wasn't sure what she would say but she didn't have the self control not to seek her out. Clarke never behaved this way, she was used to men and women flocking to her for attention. Something about Lexa though called out to her and she couldn't help but want to find out what it was.

She spotted Lexa at the back of the room next to the stage. She was looking intently into a tablet and muttering commands into an earpiece. Dressed in a cream colored dress that hugged her torso and then hung loosely to the floor. Her hair was pulled up in a elegant up do and she looked as beautiful as Clarke remembered. Without warning, as if feeling her presence, Lexa looked up and met Clarke's eyes. As blue met green, the entire room disappeared for a brief instance.

Lexa wasn't sure if she was actually seeing Clarke standing across the room or if she had wished seeing her again so much that she had started to hallucinate. When Clarke began to move towards her, she suddenly felt nervous and contemplated turning and hiding behind the stage. Instead, she changed channels on the walkie and spoke to Anya. "She's here!" Lexa was panicking. Lexa Woods did NOT panic.

"Who’s here?" Replied Anya, annoyed at not getting complete information.

"Clarke. The blonde I told you about from 5th street" Lexa said in hushed voice.

"Really? Where? I wanna see her!" Anya was by the entrance and started walking towards the main room in hopes of catching a glimpse at the mystery girl who had her sister all worked up. "She's coming over, what do I do?" Lexa asked in a rush all the while smiling at the people who walked by and glancing at Clarke who kept moving closer and closer.

"Tell her there's a cozy room in the back where you can get to know each other better!" Anya answered. Lexa glared at her walkie as if Anya could feel her stare. "I'm being serious, you idiot!"

"So am I," was Anya’s only unhelpful response.

"She's close, I'm going offline for a couple minutes." and with that, she cut off Anya's chatter with the click of a button. She took off her earpiece and looked up to meet blue eyes. Blue like the sky on a summer day, and a smile that was just as bright as the sun.

"Hi there," Clarke looked into Lexa’s green eyes and felt that they seemed to make her float and also held her firmly in place.

"Hey," Lexa smiled and answered.

"So you're the brilliant event planner I keep hearing about."

"I don't know if I would say brilliant, but I am flattered at the compliment" Lexa looked at the floor for a second then looked up with a shy smile that lit up her face in a way no candle or chandelier ever could. "Are you an architect?"

"Me? No, actually, Raven Reyes is my best friend." Clarke said with a proud smile.

"Really? Your friend is magnificent. Her work is inspiring. It was an honor for us to plan this for her." Lexa's praise was sincere and that somehow made Clarke like her more.

"Don't tell her that. I don't think her head could take it." Clarke let out a laugh and Lexa could see her pride for her friend despite her sarcasm and offered a smile in return.

"It was great seeing you again Clarke, but I'm afraid I have to get back to work. I'm sorry to have kept you from your date who surely must be looking for you." An innocent way to test the waters, Lexa thought.

"I didn’t come with a date," Clarke answered, a little too quickly, "Unless you count Octavia – my other best friend and roommate."

Lexa looked into Clarke's eyes and smiled. "Well, then let me give you my card. Perhaps next time we can run into each other on purpose?" She looked at Clarke for a reaction and found that Clarke had suddenly turned a little serious. "Is everything OK? I'm sorry if I'm overstepping Clarke" The way she said her name was like honey; soft and sweet. "No, not at all," She smiled and took her card. Their fingers brushed slightly and Clarke's smile grew.

"I really must get back. Have a lovely night Clarke. I hope you enjoy the party" Lexa looked into those mesmerizing blue eyes one last time and walked away. She made a mental note to stay behind the scenes as much as possible for the rest of the night. Lexa put on her earpiece again and checked on all the channels to make sure all was running smoothly. She then turned on the walkie, and as soon as she did, she heard Anya's unruly voice.

"So, did you tap that? Talk about a quickie you weren’t even gone for a whole 10 minutes. Had it been that long?" Anya's voice rang through.

"No Anya, and keep your voice down! People might hear you." The last thing Lexa needed at the moment was someone overhearing Anya's inappropriateness, or thoughts of Clarke's soft lips on her own. She would torture herself with those images later. Now, it was time to get back to work.

The cab ride home was worse than a murder interrogation. Clarke was sure that if she told Raven and Octavia that she had stashed a body in the apartment, there would have been less questions. They took turns firing questions at her, talking so quickly that Clarke didn't even bother trying to get a word in until they were done.

"What was she wearing?"

"Did she look hot?"

"Did you get her number?"

"Did you ask her out?"

"Are you going to call her?"

"Where was I this whole time? How did I miss this?"

"How come you didn't come get us and introduce us?"

The questions finally stopped and they looked at Clarke expectantly. Clarke took a deep breath and answered. "She was wearing a beautiful dress that looked very nice on her. She looked lovely. She gave me her business card and I did not ask her out. I don't know if I will call her yet," looking at Octavia she added, "You, were busy mingling with that Lincoln guy who works with Raven, and I didn't come get either of you because it was a very brief encounter and I didn't see her again all night."

Both girls frowned and looked at each other deciding not to push further. When they reached their building, they paid the cab fare and made their way inside. As they walked into their apartment, they each took off their heels and dropped them by the door. Octavia turned on the TV and Raven took the ice cream out of the fridge while Clarke took out spoons from a drawer it was all a very practiced ritual after a long night out. They didn't have to tell each other what they were doing; after years of living together, through college and after, they just knew. They all sat on the couch and ignored the TV as they recounted the night's events.

"Another successful event" Lexa tapped her beer to Anya's as they sat on the bar stools. Around them, the cleaning crew was picking up all evidence of the party.

"Yeah, and you got yourself a hot date!" Anya teased.

"No, Anya I didn't. I just gave her my card, that's all. I don't even know if she will call." But they both knew that Lexa was hoping she would get a call. "Well at least now you can stop walking down 5th like every day, you stalker" Anya quipped and elbowed Lexa gently in the ribs.

"Shut up. Help me pick up the rest of the equipment so we can go. I have a very handsome pup who's waiting for me at home." Lexa smiled at the thought of Aries waiting for her by the door.

When Lexa got home, she opened her door and just as she thought, Aries was waiting patiently for her. She loved her place but she hated coming home to an empty house. Aries saved her from lonely days. Getting him was the best impulse decision she ever made. One minute she was feeling lonely and the next, she was at the pound and bringing Aries home. It was love at first bark. She made her way to her room and went through her bedtime routine mindlessly. As she lay in bed, she thought of Clarke. Her mother would say that it was fate that they kept running into each other, but Lexa wasn’t one for superstitions. She would say however, that blue was quickly becoming her favorite color. She hoped she would call. If only so she could hear her soft melodic voice and if she was lucky, see those eyes one more time.

"Let's get some sleep Aries, before we go walking down 5th again" She laughed softly to herself and closed her eyes.

[moodboardinthecloud]

The life you thought you were going to have is gone

LORI FOX

SPECIAL TO THE GLOBE AND MAIL

PUBLISHED AUGUST 14, 2020, UPDATED AUGUST 15, 2020

Lori Fox is a writer based in Whitehorse.

I know what you’ve been going through these past five months; it’s the same thing we’ve all been going through.

Stripped both of structure and spontaneity, a day could feel like a week and a week like a month, yet two hours could evaporate in a puff of anxiety as you googled COVID-19 symptoms and compulsively streamed The Great British Bake Off. It was always 7 p.m. on a Sunday, no matter what day of the week it actually was. Confined inside for days on end, you came to loathe the colour of your bathroom, the texture of your carpet, the sound of your upstairs neighbour walking above you. No matter how essential the errand, leaving your home made you feel both anxious and guilty.

Now, the game is changing again. For better or for worse, things are reopening; Toronto, one of the hardest hit cities in the country, recently entered “stage three,” meaning bars, movie theatres and restaurants are open. Although everything still has a faint, palpable air of dread – the lull in a horror movie where the plucky teens foolishly believe they’ve escaped the monster and the viewer, helpless, is just waiting for it to come crashing back on screen – the stranglehold of total social isolation is loosening for many people. The fear and worry and loneliness are still there, but blunted by changing circumstances and normalization.

But that other thing, that quieter ache – that smouldering coal deep in your chest you fear would ignite and devour you if you dug it out and examined it – that’s still there. If anything, that pain might be sharper, more acute than before.

That feeling is grief.

We can go out and get a coffee, we can walk in the park, we can drink a beer on the patio, but it doesn't really matter.

The world we knew is gone.

The life you thought you were going to have is gone.

The lives we all thought we were going to have are gone.

And, maybe, that’s a good thing. A good – and very hard – thing.

Since COVID-19 first emerged sometime toward the end of 2019, more than 741,000 people have died and 20 million have been infected, with 121,000 infections in Canada alone. With people locked into their homes, sick or afraid of getting sick, the economy came to a grinding halt, a shockwave of lost jobs and reduced or redistributed consumer spending. Canada lost around two million jobs in April, with the hardest hit – outside of people who were already un- or underemployed – being low-wage workers, of which women and younger people comprise a large portion, groups that were already at an economic disadvantage in the Before.

Those jobs aren’t just going to just magically reappear as we reopen; COVID-19 has reshaped consumer demand and will continue to do so into the future. Many small businesses – restaurants in particular – are permanently closed, and it will take time for something to replace them, if such a thing will even be possible in the near future.

Things aren’t going to go back to “normal.” There’s no “normal” to go back to.

More importantly, this pandemic has kicked open the factory doors of our culture and allowed us to see how the sausage is made: on the backs of the people whose labour, time and bodies we deem to be worth at or around minimum wage, but without which we absolutely could not – cannot – make it through this crisis.

Current conversations around the “safety” of going back to work right now are simply not for the lower classes. While many middle and upper class people worked from home, working class wage earners – grocery store clerks, delivery drivers, food and agriculture folk – continued on as “essential workers,” dispensing and producing the goods and services on which our entire culture runs, all the while risking continuous public exposure. They went to work – and continue to go to work – because they have to, and will continue to have to, even as we see infections spike, something we should prepare to happen, given what we are seeing in other nations, such as Germany and Australia.

For the working class who have lost their jobs due to the pandemic, discussions around CERB – which some claim is a disincentive for people to return to work – and how some people, particularly millennials, spend that money, only serves to make the deep-seated class divide in this country more apparent. If $2,000 a month – about $12.50 an hour, or around $24,000 a year before taxes for a full-time worker – means that people are making more money than they were before, the problem is not CERB, but that workers are not fairly compensated for their labour with a living wage. Anyone who would weigh in critically on how that money is spent, moreover, should ask themselves if they believe that only the wealthy deserve financial autonomy, and the pleasure and dignity of human comforts, or if CERB is really just a subsidy for landlords.

That these are even conversations to be had demonstrates a tremendous failure of understanding – and compassion – about the realities of working class life, and the message it sends is clear: Get back to work, plebes.

The destabilizing effect of this pandemic has laid bare the economic inequality on which our society functions. Class disparity, the resistance to universal income, systemic racism, the militarization of the police and the rhetoric of the current political climate are not the result of the pandemic; they are the endgame of capitalism. We’ve merely paused the machine long enough to see them clearly.

This is my own tiny, selfish dream:

I want to meet a nice femme and get married and have a modest house with a little yard. I want to make my future wife coffee in the morning and kiss her goodbye, and go off to work writing articles and books, because it’s a useful occupation that makes me happy. I want to take my breakfast in a diner on Sundays while I read the paper, and make my wife laugh, and put butter on hot, fresh bread, and throw a ball for my dog. I want a couple fingers of whisky, clean sheets and a book when I go to bed at night.

My dream, in short, is to have enough, with the time to enjoy it. To have a life that has love and dignity.

It’s so small, when you say it like that, but for so much of my life it has seemed impossibly out of reach. At the beginning of March, things were finally starting to look up for me; that dream felt a little bit closer. When the pandemic hit, every certainty I had worked so hard to build for myself was swept from the table.

Now, here in August, that dream feels even further away than before. I don’t know what your own little dream is, but it probably feels distant – perhaps even unreachable – now, too.

I’m really sad about it, and I think we should be allowed to be sad right now.

Grief is a chance to get a hold of that hurting thing, to look at it fully and carefully, to take what’s left of what you’re grieving for and make it into a part of yourself you can take with you.

Grief isn’t about expulsion and denial. It’s about consumption and reflection.

Things are scary. We are allowed to be anxious and afraid right now.

We have lost a world. You’ve got permission to grieve.

But in doing that, we might ask if the world we have lost is really as good as we remember, if it was serving the life we hoped we would have. I’m working class. I’ve experienced homelessness and poverty. I’m queer. I’m non-binary. I’m female. I know – have known for most of my adult life – that in this world some bodies are worth more than other bodies. Some lives are worth more than other lives. Some happiness is worth more than other happiness.

What we are seeing, now, in this crisis, is a perfect distillation of that, of the ways the world before did not serve – did not care about – everyone equally. This is a chance to rethink that; perhaps not only can we not return to the world before this, but maybe we don’t really want to.

Capitalism demands constant, accelerating growth; a black magic trick that flies in the face of nature, in which no such thing exists. Even SARS-CoV-2 – itself a phenomena of nature – must adhere to these rules, and in many ways the virus is a metaphor for capitalism itself. It seeks perpetual increase without regard for the host organism, and eventually it will reach a point where it can no longer continue its present rate of infection; either it will use up all its resources (all the host organisms are all already infected or dead) or it will be contained or even eradicated by adaptations on the part of the host (that’s us).

That we see, plainly, how fragile and unfair our way of life really is, is part of the collective grief. Even if we did all agree to go back to the way things were, they can never actually really be that way; the illusion has been dispelled.

So go ahead and grieve now. Think carefully. Fill in the holes the world before has left.

Adapt.

Be good to your neighbours and friends. Take care of them as best you can. Don’t let them go without, if it’s possible. We’re going to need each other more than ever.

It will take a lot of hands to build a new and better world with new and better lives for each of us.

https://www.theglobeandmail.com/opinion/article-the-life-you-thought-you-were-going-to-have-is-gone/?fbclid=IwAR1rIo_kJT0VzLC_hEaGMrcls8KHYooVLETX2PxVN6wVQpzkhSlJh4bjfzU

[nickgerlich]

What We Have Learned So Far

I remember back to the 1970s, when I was a mere teenager. My Dad the Accountant was also the purchasing agent for our family. It was a task in which he prided himself and his squeezing-blood-out-of-turnips ways. He shopped with ruthless cunning and laser precision. This explained why our basement had metal shelves lined with enough canned goods to get us through a nuclear fallout, because Dad was the kind of guy who would find corn on sale, and then buy the whole case.

My friends used to make fun of me. “Are you guys planning on World War III?” they would ask. Nope. Dad was just being a good shopper, so we shut up and ate corn.

But suddenly I realize that Dad was ahead of his time, while at the same time, a product of his times. He grew up during the Great Depression, so he knew the value of a nickel saved, a paper clip, piece of string, even an empty beer can with its top removed to use as a pencil holder. This is not just quaint nostalgic yearnings, it’s the new survival strategy. I suspect if you went into many American pantries these days, you would think my Dad had paid them a visit.

While the first documented US case of coronavirus happened on 20 January 2020, it wasn’t until the last two weeks that we really stood up and paid much attention here. In that short time, we have learned many things, about ourselves, about our society. Here are a few:

No one is happy right now. We are filled with anxiety. We’re stress-filled, and easily provoked by the littlest thing someone might do to us in public. I get it. When your world is turned upside down, it’s easy to take it out on others. Even though only a tiny tiny fraction of our 330 million people will contract COVID-19, there is still the chance it could happen. Given the fact that we are all told to stay home, one has to wonder what the social outcomes will be down the road. Will there be a baby boom next winter, as some chirpy people suggest? Or will the added stress lead to divorces? Worse yet, not if, but when, will there be shopping cart rage and shootings in shops as people fight over scarce commodities?

What we once took for granted, we may never do so again. Remember when we could go to a supermarket and they would have everything we needed? Yeah, me too…about two weeks ago. I remember my first semester at WT, when I had a young Polish emigre in my Principles of Marketing class. She told of life in the mother country, still reeling under years of an oppressive regime. She spoke of being overwhelmed by all the choices we had in America, because in Poland, it wasn’t about which bread, it was about whether there was any bread at all. If you saw a queue forming outside a store, you got in line without even knowing why you were there, under the assumption that someone knew something you did not, and you better not miss whatever was available.

How sad that we now think the same thing. We blindly get in line before opening hours in hopes that shelves have been restocked during the night.  And for that matter, every other aspect of our lives, from dining out to movie theatres, concerts, sporting events, and more, are all out the window right now. We have our Netflix, as long as they don’t cut the bandwidth to save the internet for everyone now engaged in online learning.


Cheap gas is nice, but if you can’t go anywhere, it is worthless. With a barrel of oil around $24, dealers are practically giving gas away. Today, you can get gas for $1.69 a gallon in Amarillo. The only problem is that, with so many people sent home to work, shops closed, and everyone hunkering down, there’s really nowhere to go other than the grocery. Oh, for fuel this cheap when we are able to take road trips. This is nothing but a false positive externality of the coronavirus crisis.

Agile companies and organizations will survive, while the others will be weeded out quickly. We will definitely lose a lot of businesses during this pandemic, especially mom-and-pop businesses. There are more businesses than we realize that are only one or two months away from bankruptcy, mirroring the condition of many citizens who are similarly skating by, month-to-month. Are you in the restaurant business? Why haven’t you considered takeaway before? Have a retail shop? Why haven’t you gone online yet with a commerce-driven website and/or mobile app? Teach at a university? Why haven’t you pushed yourself a little the last two decades by developing at least one online course?

Furthermore, this will cause many businesses, organizations, and even governments to reconsider how business is done, but only among those that survive. Does it necessarily have to be face-to-face? Why can’t it be done electronically? Does it have to be done the old way forever?

I do not need to eat out anywhere near as much as I once did. I have been moving in this direction for the last few months anyway in an effort to eat more healthily, as well as because I am enjoying teaching myself to cook. But with restaurants off-limits in most areas, and everyone my age being urged to have a month’s worth of provisions on hand, my pantry runneth over. And you know what? I am enjoying it. Even with my beginner’s skills and tools, I can put together a mighty tasty dinner. My oldest daughter often joins me in this endeavor, and she, better than I, produce some amazing meals. Guess what? We are saving money. We are eating very healthily. And I am losing weight. Lots of it. Yay, us! Of course, that’s bad news for the restaurants if they are able to survive this tragedy, because I may not return there as frequently as I once did.

Many more people are now getting exposure to e-commerce, curbside pick-up, and home delivery. This could forever change the way we buy things, making it difficult for those unable or unwilling to evolve. This goes far beyond the native convenience of it all, and even the social distancing aspect. I, for one, do not want to purchase items that have been handled, tried on, manipulated, etc., by others.

What people purchase during times of panic reflects their worst fears. Panic is irrationality at its worst. It causes us to do things completely out of character, and when it comes to purchasing, it causes us to buy things that make no sense whatsoever. The elephant in the living room right now is toilet paper. The coronavirus does not even cause diarrhea, so there’s no worry in that department, yet Americans and others worldwide have gobbled up virtually every available roll. One report I read said that we bought 60 days’ worth of toilet paper in three days. A standard 18-roll pack should last a minimum of one month, and quite possibly two months, in a two-person household.

So why did everyone hoard this most basic commodity? Simple. Because everyone fears having to take a dump and not having paper with which to wipe. Never mind starvation or more important matters; we just want to be clean down there. I want to be clean, too, but I’m not going to go crazy on inventorying it. A second fear is bottled water. Really? Unless our public utilities also break down, we’re going to have tap water. So picture this: We are a bunch of defecation dehydrophobes. I don’t like that mental picture.

The food people are buying reflects our rather pedestrian American cuisine, which also turns out to be our comfort foods. The American diet is a mash-up of various international influences and regionalized adaptations, along with some items of our own making. To be honest, I don’t think it is all that good. It is rather bland, favors sauces that happens to red, and probably puts more emphasis on the centerpiece—meat—than is healthy. But that’s a discussion for another time.

Folks are buying the things they know how to prepare, because going out to eat is out of the question unless you can live with takeaway, and people are buying the things that will provide comfort and hope during a time of discomfort and seeming hopelessness. If pounded steak and potatoes make you feel good, then by all means, eat it. It also means that my rather esoteric tastes and dietary preferences are pretty safe. This is one time that being in the minority has its benefits. All of my stuff is still abundant.

People will rearrange their schedules to go shopping if there is hope that a scarce item has been replenished overnight. When was the last time you went grocery shopping at 7:00am? I did it this week, and was not the least bit surprised to see about two dozen others out there, milling about in the pre-dawn moonlight. Many stores have now trimmed their operating hours to allow more time for thorough overnight cleanings and restocking, as well as to accommodate seniors-only shopping hours, but the long and the short of it is simple: We’ll do whatever it takes if we think we might find a roll of toilet paper or canister of Lysol. Think about this. Aside from Black Friday, when was the last time you engaged in cart-to-cart contact for a limited supply of products?

We are social animals, and we are already starting to miss each other. I can see it on social media already. We want…no, we need…human interactions, whether it is at church, the pub, the workplace, the classroom. All of those have been taken from us in short order, and it did not take long for us to feel that immense loss. Thankfully, we have social media to stay in touch, and inexpensive calling plans to just say hello. Reach out and touch your loved ones, maybe not physically, but at least electronically. It may be a while before we can hug, kiss, even shake hands. But we can still communicate.

There will always be defiant, belligerent people among us. This is the scariest part. There are many folks taking to social media trying to downplay the importance of this matter, dissing the statistics that shows this to be a highly communicable disease with a much higher mortality rate than the common flu. Worst yet, I have seen some of my former students echoing these refrains online. Now more than ever we must use reasoning and logic to filter through the news, all of it, from real to fake. This is a very real contagion that can grow exponentially if left unabated. Interventions of the highest order are necessary to throw speed bumps in its growth. This is not a conspiracy from any political party; it is a global pandemic that knows no borders nor ideologies. Don’t blow off the truth; don’t dig your heels in the dirt and embrace nonsense claptrap that ignores the magnitude of this situation.

We use social media to vent our frustrations and anxieties. And argue. It is sadly ironic that the very tool intended to bring people together has also made it possible for oceans of discontent to rage between us. Give someone a microphone, and suddenly they feel like they are back in high school debate. But more than that, I see raw emotions in people’s posts…the empty shelves, the shuttered stores, the empty parking lots. The mere act of photographing, composing a caption, and posting them is cathartic in that it lets us release those pent up emotions. My advice going forward: skip the arguing, but keep posting your photos and words. If anything, we are all now citizen journalists documenting history in the making. Can you imagine nearly everyone in 1918 had a decent camera in their pocket or purse, and snapped hundreds of photos of the pandemic that year? We would have a much better record had this all been available. We do, so keep shooting and posting.

Finally, we need to love our educators. They have all been forced to do things they may or may not know anything about as they transition to online. For some, it has been easy. For others, it is like being thrust from knowing miles, pounds, and quarts, and suddenly having to use kilometers, kilograms, and liters. We are doing our best to make sure the learning continues, with or without the comforts of the classroom. We all have to make the best of the situation. And I offer encouragement to students for whom online learning is unfamiliar. It’s not perfect, but neither is the classroom. Keep an open mind, and trust your educator. We’re not doing this for ourselves.

I know that I could go on, and there is certainly much more we will learn in the days and weeks ahead. And that’s right—weeks. I am not hopeful that we will return to what we consider to be normal for quite some time. This is the new normal. All I know is that my dad was right. Life could get tough again, maybe not quite like it was in the 1930s, but certainly a far cry from what we all know as the American way. In the end, though, it will make us tougher. Our steely resolve will help us get through this, and prepare us for whatever the future may hold. 



Now who wants some corn?

Dr “Going The Distance“ Gerlich

Audio Blog

[grimmwritings]

Photokinesis

March 20, 2017

Everyone thinks they’ve seen her at one point. A woman who looks too different from the other people in the Salona, a hospice home, someone who radiates too brightly considering she’s surrounded people who know their fate. Some patients who can still speak describe her differently. Young with blonde hair and blue eyes, or middle-aged with black hair and a soft expression, someone as old as themselves with a smile shining more than the white sheets on their beds. They always talk about the same sort of experience though. She comes when your time is growing near and you feel hopeless. She comes when the sun shines brightly in your window and bends the light, controlling it to do her deeds. Supposedly, she comes only once, the timing varies. Between weeks before to minutes before you leave the world. She smiles and presses a palm to your temple and projects your memories. Memories you didn’t know you longed for, the memories you could never forget, memories you had no clue you needed to see. They talk about how it’s so bright like the sun on a child’s playground. You can watch them on your wall with her, reliving the best days of your life. People try to explain to her what they mean, but from what I’ve heard, she already knows. But she stays anyway, and nods with a smile. The staff doesn’t believe a word they say, but letting us be happy is more important than a silly rumor.

***

I can feel myself shutting down. I know what I mean to say, but the words won’t come to me when I try to communicate. It’s frustrating watching myself decay into forgetfulness, knowing how I’ll end up long before I’m gone enough to stop caring. I’m glad she’s decided to pay me a visit. I’m ready for her.

I know it’s her the moment I see her. She stands with a comforting grin, but she doesn’t say a single word. I don’t think she speaks. She’s beautiful, a woman in her twenties with perfectly curled chestnut hair and a perfectly white sundress. She doesn’t wear shoes, her pale feet make her way towards my window. I know I’m seeing her differently than anyone else described. They were all so wrong. She’s not old or blonde, she’s exactly the kind of person I need to see. She’s perfect for me, like she was perfect for so many others. I feel compelled to stay calm; I trust her. Usually when someone I don’t know enters my room, I get angry.

She bathes her hands in the cool, early morning beams that filter through my window. It seems tangible, like a substance she can touch. Maybe she can. When she looks satisfied with a large grin, she comes to stand next to my bed. She lays her hand on my temple and I lean into it. It’s comforting, like nothing else has been in a long time. She looks to the window and the light begins to move towards the wall my bed faces. The colors ripple beautifully before they settle into a warm, shifting image. The memories begin.

***

I was two. My infant sister had been laid on the foot of the bed by my parents so I could look at her. They stood very close by to watch and make sure nothing went wrong. I crawled over, very gently, and raised a hand over her. My parents started to panic, afraid that I would hit her. Before they could take me away, I took hold of Maggie’s hand. I held her infant fingers in my only slightly bigger ones and just sat there. I eventually laid down so I wouldn’t have to let go. I could see, but not yet understand the wonder on my parents’ faces.

“I held Maggie’s hand all the time when we were younger.” I explain, voice wavering. At least the words were coming to me. She smiles in understanding.

***

The scene changes to something different. My mother looked stressed, overwhelmed from taking care of an energetic five-year-old and an eager to please three-year-old. I pulled Maggie along after me, into the kitchen. We had escaped from our room at nap time. I pulled a chair up to the counters and started grabbing things from the cabinets, bags I had seen mother grab before. Sugar and flour. I pulled a low hanging bowl from the sink and Maggie and I sat on the floor. As soon as I ripped into the flour bag, the contents spilled everywhere. Maggie, the floor, and I were all covered in a layer of powder. My sister shrieked in glee and I giggled. My mother ran in, horrified at the mess we had made. She asked me what I thought I was doing. I answered that she looked sad and that she always made us pancakes when we were sad. My mother’s scowl faded to a smile and she grabbed some milk. She sat right in the middle of all the flour with us, getting her nice dress covered in powder from the floor. She could have just as easily asked that Maggie and I get cleaned up and joined her at the table, but she decided to just enjoy the moment with us. We spent half an hour on the floor with my mother, making pancakes for one another.

***

Bethany was my best friend from high school, never very conventional, but she was brilliant. She went to college for some kind of math degree after we were done with school. That night, she was going to help me sneak out of the house and go to some party she had heard about. Maggie was going to cover for me if anything went wrong. High school was the time to rebel before we all had to get serious, before Bethany went to college and before I settled down with a family. She got the ladder from our back shed and leaned it against the wall of our house that my bedroom window was in. I climbed down and Bethany drove us in the car she paid her brother to borrow without telling her parents. We were on the way before it ran out of gas. It finally gave out in front of an empty field. We couldn’t call anyone, because we weren’t willing to face the consequences of sneaking out. Her brother would tell and Maggie couldn’t get out without our parents hearing. Bethany and I had no choice but to wait until Maggie could get us in the morning. So we pushed the car, throwing our shoes in the backseat. We laid on the hood of the car, and looked up at the country stars. We talked for hours, both of us were obviously tired, but neither of us willing to sleep. We both knew we would be separated in less than two months, and we wanted to enjoy each other’s company while we could. We talked about everything we could think of and spoke of things that meant nothing to us, all so we wouldn’t fall asleep and lose the magic of one night. It was one of the last times we got to spend any real time together before she left for college and I got a job.

“She died a couple years ago.” I explain to the woman in the sundress. The light around her seems to pour off her skin, glowing. “She ended up being one of the first women to work at NASA.” She beams, also proud of Bethany. She bends the light again.

***

I worked as a bank teller. Two women worked to either side of me, Linda and Meredith. Linda and I grew to be close friends. We talked every day at work and went to diners on the weekends. She had invited me to a family dinner one night, she said if she couldn’t bring a date, she could at least bring a friend. I knocked on her door and Linda answered, taking the pasta salad I had made by hand. I followed her into the kitchen, where she introduced me to her mother. The girls all talked in the kitchen for a long while before he came in. Ronnie, Linda’s brother, came in carrying a plate of steaks. He looked much too awkward and inexperienced to have cooked them himself. He set them down and smiled brightly at me. He wasn’t very put together, he seemed energetic and distracted a lot, but he was very nice. He introduced himself. That was the first time I met my husband.

The light woman turns to me and I can tell she knows I miss him. She presses her fingers to my head a little tighter, a gesture of support.

***

This memory begins in a room much like my own now. It had white walls and looked very sterile. It was hot, uncomfortable, and one of the best places I had ever been. I was holding my daughter in my arms for the first time. Her little pink blanket contrasted the blue bruising the poor child had. She was a difficult one. I was in so much pain, during the delivery I wanted to quit and go back to warn myself. I wanted to give up and tell myself that having a child wasn’t worth it. But when he placed Jennifer in my arms, all of that melted away. She wailed and Ron only smiled at the two of us, said his two girls were the most beautiful things he had ever seen. I felt giddy at her shrill shriek, because she was there, in my arms, and perfectly fine.

***

“Jen lives in Cincinnati now. It’s hard for her to come visit .” She came when she heard I was sick, she stopped coming as frequently when it became hard for me to recognize people sometimes. The woman smooths her hand over my hair, reminding me I’m not alone.

***

Jen’s high school dance came so quickly. I remember thinking how cute she was as a little girl, and then as if by magic, she wasn’t a little girl anymore. I was supposed to help chaperone, to spend some time with my daughter before she left. Ron was supposed to go and have a beer with some friends, something he hadn’t done in a long while. I helped Jen into her dress and helped with her hair and makeup. I looked at her in the mirror. We looked alike, but she was so much more like her father. She couldn’t stand still. She had to be doing something, had to help people or make them laugh. She smiled at me in the mirror as I began to tear up just a little. She laughed and hugged me before the doorbell rang. I was confused, but Jen wore the same smirk that she had inherited from her father. She knew something I didn’t. I went downstairs to open the door. I was greeted by Ron dressed in a suit and holding a dozen roses and one as a corsage. He grinned like a dope and asked if he could take me to the dance, as if we were the students and not our daughter. I laughed and agreed. Ron and I spent all night dancing and not caring that we looked stupid doing so while Jen had a fun time with her friends.

***

I simply laugh and she does as well. Hers is a graceful sound, like glass, windchimes, and summer. Mine sounds like gleeful wheezing. Both are beautiful to me now.

***

Jen signed up to join the air force. We were so proud, but she was away a lot. Ron and I hardly got to see her. Ron and I were getting older. He had fallen down the stairs one morning and torn something, hurt his knee. I had kidney stones more than once. We both started to grow flecks of grey, then flocks. Life was hard and we were aging, while still feeling like young adults. I think that’s why Ron decided to surprise me. I had always been a little standoffish, but I was beginning to just be frustrated a lot of the time. It was the week before our twentieth anniversary. He woke me up by putting a lei around my neck. He put a tray of pineapples on my lap with one hibiscus flower. I was confused until he showed me the plane tickets to Hawaii. I was shocked. He had taken off work and called Maggie’s son to watch the dog for a week. Everything was taken care of. We flew to the beach, hoping for a week of sun, sand, and hopefully no stress. We arrived the day before our anniversary and decided to just sleep. The next day, we got up early to get to the beach first, before it got too crowded. It was nice, cool weather, and Ron and I walked down streets to get there. He pulled a small wagon of our stuff and I carried some towels and food. He set us up under an umbrella and we sat, simply looking as the early morning sun lit up the waves. It was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. It was so quiet and peaceful. We found out why later, when it started pouring. Ron was worried about trying to get us out of the downpour, but I simply laughed and stopped him from panicking. In the end, we walked calmly home while being drenched, but holding onto each other the whole way and smiling.

***

The room I’m in is nowhere near as peaceful as that day on the beach, but this woman reminds me of how I felt when I saw the sunlight hit the waves, awed and calm. She giggles, as if thanking me.

***

I was eighty. Three years ago. Ron had died years before. The rest of the family heard I was sick. It was one of my first days in the hospital. Everyone had noticed my memory wasn’t what it used to be, but none of us ever thought I would have a disease. However, in the midst of my worry, everyone was there. Family member after family member piled into my small room to smile and share greetings. Maggie was seventy-eight, but she got around pretty well, considering. She brought her kids to visit their aunt and Jen brought Jacob. I was so happy as they gathered around. I was still coherent enough to recognize them all instantly, and I remembered thinking about my funeral. When I was faced with old age, I thought about who would show up to my funeral. I wondered if the church would be scarcely littered with people who felt obligation or if the seats would be packed with sad mourners looking for more chairs. It was with all of my family around me, that I realized I didn’t care. So what if I didn’t change the world? So what if the only people who showed up were the ones who could pack into a tiny hospital room? When I was announced to be sick, it was like a practice funeral. I saw who cared. And even if it wasn’t a stadium worth of people, some souls would be sad when I left. But I would have changed their lives, if I couldn’t change the world. I made Maggie, Ron, Jen, and Jacob happy while I could. My funeral didn’t have to be packed, it just needed to have the people I cared for there. I smiled at the people all yelling over one another to be heard. It was noisy, and usually I liked the quiet. But just that once, I was fine with it.

***

The light goes back to random colors. She pulls her hand away, and with it, I feel my ability to speak slip away from me again. She let me say the words that had been stuck on the tip of my tongue for a long time now. I understand that it is time for her to leave. She has done so much for me and now she must do it for others. She presses a light kiss to my forehead, like how a mother would comfort a child. I’m scared, but I’m ready. I nod and she leaves. The room seems to dim and grow cold. I fall asleep, drifting off happy.

When I hear the door open, I wake. I smile. A woman enters. She looks nice, comforting. In a different way than the woman who just left did. She’s old and struggles to make it to the chair next to me. When she does sit, she speaks to me.

“You look a little less catty.” She’s joking with me, so she knows me well. “I’m glad you’re feeling a bit better.” Her voice is worn like mine and it wavers. I simply smile and manage to make a gleeful sound, different than the laugh before, much more strained. “Do you know who I am, Edith?” She asks. I know I know her. It’s just hard to place her face with memories. The frustration returns as I beat myself up for not realizing who she is when she must be so important. She realizes my confusion. She laughs and hold onto my hand tightly. I smile. “It’s Maggie.” She explains. I grow calm, and so tired. I’m warm again in the cold room. Maggie makes sure I leave her life the same way she entered mine, with a hand to hold.

[samanthasroberts]

27 Of My Most Cringeworthy Moments From My Early Twenties I Will Recount Here For Your Entertainment

If you are my mother or my father or are in any way affiliated with them, please stop reading right here. Unless you’re Aunt Julie. Because you can hang, Jules.

1. I once locked myself into a bathroom with several cases of beer, because the cops showed up to a college party. I declared it my throne and proceeded to continue to drink cans of Coors Light for over an hour BY MYSELF until I decided it was safe to emerge.

2. After my 21st birthday party, I fell asleep on my staircase with my tights midway down my legs cradling my then baby dog and assuring her over and over, “You’re so beautiful.” I woke up to her chewing on my hair.

3. I played Peter Pan in college and had some sort of weird virus that resulted in 85% of my body being covered in hives. I was released from the ER after my school’s health center sent me there post thinking I was going into anaphylactic shock, but I had to do press and several photo shoots for the show. So now, there are photos of me (that yes, you can find) dressed as Peter Pan, flying around, while on several milligrams of Valium. Gives a whole new meaning to “flying high.” (sorry I had to.)

4. Once I got drunk in a field solely so I could hang out with a goat named Penelope. Here’s a picture:

5. My boyfriend for the latter half of my early twenties was around a year younger than me. So he couldn’t drink with me (in public anyway) at my 22nd and instead had to take care of me, bless his heart. On my 21st birthday a friend had challenged me to take a shot of SUPER cheap whiskey and I’d managed to do it. On my 22nd I tried to complete that same challenge and ended up puking into a cloth napkin, and sneakily throwing it away in the trash. My boyfriend promptly took me home after.

6. Another throw up story (let’s just stick with the theme) involved a pint glass. A party was being thrown at my ex’s house and naturally, I didn’t want to attend. One of my best guyfriend’s offered to accompany me to a bar near said ex’s place called “The Town And Country Lounge” which is a bar in a refurbished double wide. We sat there for approximately two to three hours, drinking cheap beer and shooting whiskey. The last shot of Jameson I did didn’t sit well, and I ended up methodically vomitting into the pint glass next to me, filling it straight to the brim. Surprisingly though, I didn’t spill.

7. At 25 I got so heated with a cab driver after a long night that he ended up calling the police on me. From my own phone. Saving that whole story for my eventual Lifetime movie. But it happened.

8. I went to a One Direction concert and a stranger who was drunk and talking animatedly with his hands clocked me straight in the face. I told him it was okay, I missed Zayn too. Again here’s a photo from said evening:

9. At 25 I sent presents to some dude who wrote for the same website as me, because I thought it meant we’d be friends. Now I’m pretty sure he just wanted to have phone sex (never did) because he was lonely as he stopped talking to me the SECOND there was a possibility of us hanging out IRL. Learn from my mistakes kids: don’t send flat-brims to people just because they’re sad. Save that money.

10. I left my number on more coasters and napkins for cute bartenders than I can even remember. It’s not really a cute move though, and I fully shake my head at myself now.

11. I sort of notoriously trolled a guy on Tinder and wrote about it. It made a lot of people really mad. I still stand by my original intent of writing the piece, which was/is that it’s kind of fucked up that we laugh when people threaten us or harass us or even just get rude, but I didn’t execute this well at all. Like honestly, I am linking to it and saying, “I think this ispoorlywritten and I am the one who wrote it.” BUT – I don’t believe in deleting work even when I don’t really relate to it anymore or even when it doesn’t garner the reaction I was hoping for. Instead I just shake my head when I get random messages about this piece (yes, even over a year later) and use it as a reminder to always do better.

12.After my first big breakup I decided to get out of a dodge for a bit and flew home to be with my parents and my childhood best friends. Only problem, I was flying out of my college town on my ex’s birthday. And apparently, his parents were also flying out on the same flight to go on vacation. I was in first class (not bougie – just the only ticket that was available) and they had to awkwardly stand beside me waiting to get to their seats. One of my absolute least favorite memories.

13. I impulsively got a tattoo with a sort of boyfriend one day on my ribs. I didn’t really WANT a rib tattoo but this dude told me it was “so sexy” so I caved. I also made the mistake of not going to a reputable artist, and frankly the tattoo looks like shit now. Eventually I’ll get it covered up but for now, the scratchy quote stays. Here’s another a picture so you can see visual representation of my mistakes!! Yay!

"curiosity often leads to trouble."

A photo posted by Kendra Syrdal (@kendrasyrdal) on Apr 6, 2013 at 4:58pm PDT

14. Once I went out on a date with a guy who actually, seriously quoted that fucking AWFUL book about picking up women called and I didn’t leave. Not only did I not leave, but I let him stay the night at my apartment (didn’t hook up with him because I maintained SOME level of self-respect) AND let him shower in the morning. He used my brand new, pretty spendy Sephora bubble bath as body wash, and opened brand new shampoo. He wanted to have a “discussion” after I told him I wasn’t interested in seeing him again. Yeah…I pick winners.

15.For my 20th birthday party I threw a joint birthday party with my friend Nicki that was “P” themed. This meant everyone who came to the party had to come dressed as something that started with the letter P. (Best costume was this dude Kyle who came as the preamble. It was gold.) The only other rule was that no one could come as a princess because that’s what Nicki and I were being. I dressed like this:

16.I was so in love with a boy that I bought him Decemberists tickets for literally no reason. Actually, come to think of it, a lot of the moments where I look at my younger self and go, “What the actual fuck were you thinking?!” have to do with spending money on boys who didn’t appreciate me. My therapist told me that I show affection through material goods because I have difficulty expressing emotions. Whatever, I’m working on it.

17.I have written so many prose pieces about guys who I knew were pulling away from me in a sad, pathetic attempt to try and make them see that I was worth their time and attention. Spoiler alert: If a guy doesn’t even read your stuff to begin with, this will literally never work.

18. At 23 I went to Las Vegas for my best friend’s 21st birthday and the two of us go so lit up before going to the wax museum that we found a karaoke machine (it’s next to the was figure of Simon Cowell) and started serenading the entire museum with renditions of Celine Dion hits like “Taking Chances” and “The Power of Love.” We attempted to shake his hand after. We cleared the room of 70+ people. What I’m saying is, it was embarrassing.

19. I was really bad about remembering to renew my tags for my car in college and was pulled over for said offense one summer, and still didn’t renew my tags. 7 months (yes I know, I was/am the worst) later I was pulled over AGAIN for the same thing. Apparently there was a warrant out for my arrest and the officer decided midnight was the appropriate time to lecture me about this. Catch? I had just finished a performance ofwhich, if you’re not familiar, is set in Japan. So I was in FULL kabuki makeup while this policeman decided to lecture me about my fuck up. I was sobbing, Ben Nye makeup was smearing everywhere, he felt pretty bad. It was overall just a mess. But I didn’t go to jail. Thanks, Missoula Cop who didn’t take me in while I was still rocking the geisha makeup. I really appreciate it.

20.Iwas feeling vulnerable and sad one Halloween and decided the cure to this was hooking up with my friend’s much younger, VERY hot, trying to be a stripper friend. It was fine, it was whatever. But we hooked up on the floor of an apartment which was basically concrete. I ended up slipping a disc, bruising my tailbone, and having to spend the next 3 months getting chiropractic work to make my back okay again.He was hot, but not hot enough to justify that amount of back pain. #srynotsry

21.I got violently ill once from antibiotics and promptly shit in my leggings after trusting the fart. There is more to the story but again, saving it for my future bestseller.

22. I thought this was a good look. And also did this in public.

23.In college I played Columbia in the live musical version of where, for the midnight shows only, we were topless. I debated about it, but it was a paid gig and I felt fine about it so I decided sure, why not. My boyfriend at the time was NOT okay with it. I later found out he adamantly REFUSED to let his friends come to the show, even going so far as to pay them back for the tickets they had already purchased. I didn’t find this out for years and it still makes me super embarrassed for his behavior.

24.A guy broke up with me when I was 25 because I didn’t make enough eye contact. That was his honest to god reason. (Still bitter.)

25.I went on a mini vacation with some friends to Austin, Texas for my 26th birthday and decided to really just GO for it when I was there. This meant doing one of the ultimate “why not” moments: the Tinder one night stand. Only problem? We didn’t know our way around Texas and I didn’t bring any condoms. So my solution was to have Postmates deliver them. I didn’t even try to play it off and ordered like, chips and gum to make it better. I straight up just ordered a box of 16 Trojan’s to the AirBnb. The delivery man was loling, my “date” was loling, my friends were loling. It was lols all around. 10/10 recommend.

26. A friend of mine came to Seattle for an audition and I took her out one night to blow off some steam/show her the city. We ended up drinking all night with a professional indoor soccer team from Vegas, and I definitely got naked in a photobooth with a bunch of them. Somehow though, I still didn’t get laid. Only I could be one of two girls surrounded by a bunch of guys who were hot, professional athletes, show them all of my tattoos that required me taking my clothes off, and end up going home to eat queso in bed.

27.I lived. I made memories. Or I had those memories told back to me because I didn’t really…well… them. And even though sometimes that makes me all “god dammit smdh” I honestly think it’s pretty dope that I have all of these stories – cringeworthy or what have you.

Plus I once peed on my neighbor’s lawn furniture because she was threatening to call the cops on my Harry Potter themed party. And you can’t pay money for those kinds of stories.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/08/30/27-of-my-most-cringeworthy-moments-from-my-early-twenties-i-will-recount-here-for-your-entertainment/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/08/30/27-of-my-most-cringeworthy-moments-from-my-early-twenties-i-will-recount-here-for-your-entertainment/

[adambstingus]

27 Of My Most Cringeworthy Moments From My Early Twenties I Will Recount Here For Your Entertainment

If you are my mother or my father or are in any way affiliated with them, please stop reading right here. Unless you’re Aunt Julie. Because you can hang, Jules.

1. I once locked myself into a bathroom with several cases of beer, because the cops showed up to a college party. I declared it my throne and proceeded to continue to drink cans of Coors Light for over an hour BY MYSELF until I decided it was safe to emerge.

2. After my 21st birthday party, I fell asleep on my staircase with my tights midway down my legs cradling my then baby dog and assuring her over and over, “You’re so beautiful.” I woke up to her chewing on my hair.

3. I played Peter Pan in college and had some sort of weird virus that resulted in 85% of my body being covered in hives. I was released from the ER after my school’s health center sent me there post thinking I was going into anaphylactic shock, but I had to do press and several photo shoots for the show. So now, there are photos of me (that yes, you can find) dressed as Peter Pan, flying around, while on several milligrams of Valium. Gives a whole new meaning to “flying high.” (sorry I had to.)

4. Once I got drunk in a field solely so I could hang out with a goat named Penelope. Here’s a picture:

5. My boyfriend for the latter half of my early twenties was around a year younger than me. So he couldn’t drink with me (in public anyway) at my 22nd and instead had to take care of me, bless his heart. On my 21st birthday a friend had challenged me to take a shot of SUPER cheap whiskey and I’d managed to do it. On my 22nd I tried to complete that same challenge and ended up puking into a cloth napkin, and sneakily throwing it away in the trash. My boyfriend promptly took me home after.

6. Another throw up story (let’s just stick with the theme) involved a pint glass. A party was being thrown at my ex’s house and naturally, I didn’t want to attend. One of my best guyfriend’s offered to accompany me to a bar near said ex’s place called “The Town And Country Lounge” which is a bar in a refurbished double wide. We sat there for approximately two to three hours, drinking cheap beer and shooting whiskey. The last shot of Jameson I did didn’t sit well, and I ended up methodically vomitting into the pint glass next to me, filling it straight to the brim. Surprisingly though, I didn’t spill.

7. At 25 I got so heated with a cab driver after a long night that he ended up calling the police on me. From my own phone. Saving that whole story for my eventual Lifetime movie. But it happened.

8. I went to a One Direction concert and a stranger who was drunk and talking animatedly with his hands clocked me straight in the face. I told him it was okay, I missed Zayn too. Again here’s a photo from said evening:

9. At 25 I sent presents to some dude who wrote for the same website as me, because I thought it meant we’d be friends. Now I’m pretty sure he just wanted to have phone sex (never did) because he was lonely as he stopped talking to me the SECOND there was a possibility of us hanging out IRL. Learn from my mistakes kids: don’t send flat-brims to people just because they’re sad. Save that money.

10. I left my number on more coasters and napkins for cute bartenders than I can even remember. It’s not really a cute move though, and I fully shake my head at myself now.

11. I sort of notoriously trolled a guy on Tinder and wrote about it. It made a lot of people really mad. I still stand by my original intent of writing the piece, which was/is that it’s kind of fucked up that we laugh when people threaten us or harass us or even just get rude, but I didn’t execute this well at all. Like honestly, I am linking to it and saying, “I think this ispoorlywritten and I am the one who wrote it.” BUT – I don’t believe in deleting work even when I don’t really relate to it anymore or even when it doesn’t garner the reaction I was hoping for. Instead I just shake my head when I get random messages about this piece (yes, even over a year later) and use it as a reminder to always do better.

12.After my first big breakup I decided to get out of a dodge for a bit and flew home to be with my parents and my childhood best friends. Only problem, I was flying out of my college town on my ex’s birthday. And apparently, his parents were also flying out on the same flight to go on vacation. I was in first class (not bougie – just the only ticket that was available) and they had to awkwardly stand beside me waiting to get to their seats. One of my absolute least favorite memories.

13. I impulsively got a tattoo with a sort of boyfriend one day on my ribs. I didn’t really WANT a rib tattoo but this dude told me it was “so sexy” so I caved. I also made the mistake of not going to a reputable artist, and frankly the tattoo looks like shit now. Eventually I’ll get it covered up but for now, the scratchy quote stays. Here’s another a picture so you can see visual representation of my mistakes!! Yay!

“curiosity often leads to trouble.”

A photo posted by Kendra Syrdal (@kendrasyrdal) on Apr 6, 2013 at 4:58pm PDT

14. Once I went out on a date with a guy who actually, seriously quoted that fucking AWFUL book about picking up women called and I didn’t leave. Not only did I not leave, but I let him stay the night at my apartment (didn’t hook up with him because I maintained SOME level of self-respect) AND let him shower in the morning. He used my brand new, pretty spendy Sephora bubble bath as body wash, and opened brand new shampoo. He wanted to have a “discussion” after I told him I wasn’t interested in seeing him again. Yeah…I pick winners.

15.For my 20th birthday party I threw a joint birthday party with my friend Nicki that was “P” themed. This meant everyone who came to the party had to come dressed as something that started with the letter P. (Best costume was this dude Kyle who came as the preamble. It was gold.) The only other rule was that no one could come as a princess because that’s what Nicki and I were being. I dressed like this:

16.I was so in love with a boy that I bought him Decemberists tickets for literally no reason. Actually, come to think of it, a lot of the moments where I look at my younger self and go, “What the actual fuck were you thinking?!” have to do with spending money on boys who didn’t appreciate me. My therapist told me that I show affection through material goods because I have difficulty expressing emotions. Whatever, I’m working on it.

17.I have written so many prose pieces about guys who I knew were pulling away from me in a sad, pathetic attempt to try and make them see that I was worth their time and attention. Spoiler alert: If a guy doesn’t even read your stuff to begin with, this will literally never work.

18. At 23 I went to Las Vegas for my best friend’s 21st birthday and the two of us go so lit up before going to the wax museum that we found a karaoke machine (it’s next to the was figure of Simon Cowell) and started serenading the entire museum with renditions of Celine Dion hits like “Taking Chances” and “The Power of Love.” We attempted to shake his hand after. We cleared the room of 70+ people. What I’m saying is, it was embarrassing.

19. I was really bad about remembering to renew my tags for my car in college and was pulled over for said offense one summer, and still didn’t renew my tags. 7 months (yes I know, I was/am the worst) later I was pulled over AGAIN for the same thing. Apparently there was a warrant out for my arrest and the officer decided midnight was the appropriate time to lecture me about this. Catch? I had just finished a performance ofwhich, if you’re not familiar, is set in Japan. So I was in FULL kabuki makeup while this policeman decided to lecture me about my fuck up. I was sobbing, Ben Nye makeup was smearing everywhere, he felt pretty bad. It was overall just a mess. But I didn’t go to jail. Thanks, Missoula Cop who didn’t take me in while I was still rocking the geisha makeup. I really appreciate it.

20.Iwas feeling vulnerable and sad one Halloween and decided the cure to this was hooking up with my friend’s much younger, VERY hot, trying to be a stripper friend. It was fine, it was whatever. But we hooked up on the floor of an apartment which was basically concrete. I ended up slipping a disc, bruising my tailbone, and having to spend the next 3 months getting chiropractic work to make my back okay again.He was hot, but not hot enough to justify that amount of back pain. #srynotsry

21.I got violently ill once from antibiotics and promptly shit in my leggings after trusting the fart. There is more to the story but again, saving it for my future bestseller.

22. I thought this was a good look. And also did this in public.

23.In college I played Columbia in the live musical version of where, for the midnight shows only, we were topless. I debated about it, but it was a paid gig and I felt fine about it so I decided sure, why not. My boyfriend at the time was NOT okay with it. I later found out he adamantly REFUSED to let his friends come to the show, even going so far as to pay them back for the tickets they had already purchased. I didn’t find this out for years and it still makes me super embarrassed for his behavior.

24.A guy broke up with me when I was 25 because I didn’t make enough eye contact. That was his honest to god reason. (Still bitter.)

25.I went on a mini vacation with some friends to Austin, Texas for my 26th birthday and decided to really just GO for it when I was there. This meant doing one of the ultimate “why not” moments: the Tinder one night stand. Only problem? We didn’t know our way around Texas and I didn’t bring any condoms. So my solution was to have Postmates deliver them. I didn’t even try to play it off and ordered like, chips and gum to make it better. I straight up just ordered a box of 16 Trojan’s to the AirBnb. The delivery man was loling, my “date” was loling, my friends were loling. It was lols all around. 10/10 recommend.

26. A friend of mine came to Seattle for an audition and I took her out one night to blow off some steam/show her the city. We ended up drinking all night with a professional indoor soccer team from Vegas, and I definitely got naked in a photobooth with a bunch of them. Somehow though, I still didn’t get laid. Only I could be one of two girls surrounded by a bunch of guys who were hot, professional athletes, show them all of my tattoos that required me taking my clothes off, and end up going home to eat queso in bed.

27.I lived. I made memories. Or I had those memories told back to me because I didn’t really…well… them. And even though sometimes that makes me all “god dammit smdh” I honestly think it’s pretty dope that I have all of these stories – cringeworthy or what have you.

Plus I once peed on my neighbor’s lawn furniture because she was threatening to call the cops on my Harry Potter themed party. And you can’t pay money for those kinds of stories.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/08/30/27-of-my-most-cringeworthy-moments-from-my-early-twenties-i-will-recount-here-for-your-entertainment/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/164769835047

[allofbeercom]

27 Of My Most Cringeworthy Moments From My Early Twenties I Will Recount Here For Your Entertainment

If you are my mother or my father or are in any way affiliated with them, please stop reading right here. Unless you’re Aunt Julie. Because you can hang, Jules.

1. I once locked myself into a bathroom with several cases of beer, because the cops showed up to a college party. I declared it my throne and proceeded to continue to drink cans of Coors Light for over an hour BY MYSELF until I decided it was safe to emerge.

2. After my 21st birthday party, I fell asleep on my staircase with my tights midway down my legs cradling my then baby dog and assuring her over and over, “You’re so beautiful.” I woke up to her chewing on my hair.

3. I played Peter Pan in college and had some sort of weird virus that resulted in 85% of my body being covered in hives. I was released from the ER after my school’s health center sent me there post thinking I was going into anaphylactic shock, but I had to do press and several photo shoots for the show. So now, there are photos of me (that yes, you can find) dressed as Peter Pan, flying around, while on several milligrams of Valium. Gives a whole new meaning to “flying high.” (sorry I had to.)

4. Once I got drunk in a field solely so I could hang out with a goat named Penelope. Here’s a picture:

5. My boyfriend for the latter half of my early twenties was around a year younger than me. So he couldn’t drink with me (in public anyway) at my 22nd and instead had to take care of me, bless his heart. On my 21st birthday a friend had challenged me to take a shot of SUPER cheap whiskey and I’d managed to do it. On my 22nd I tried to complete that same challenge and ended up puking into a cloth napkin, and sneakily throwing it away in the trash. My boyfriend promptly took me home after.

6. Another throw up story (let’s just stick with the theme) involved a pint glass. A party was being thrown at my ex’s house and naturally, I didn’t want to attend. One of my best guyfriend’s offered to accompany me to a bar near said ex’s place called “The Town And Country Lounge” which is a bar in a refurbished double wide. We sat there for approximately two to three hours, drinking cheap beer and shooting whiskey. The last shot of Jameson I did didn’t sit well, and I ended up methodically vomitting into the pint glass next to me, filling it straight to the brim. Surprisingly though, I didn’t spill.

7. At 25 I got so heated with a cab driver after a long night that he ended up calling the police on me. From my own phone. Saving that whole story for my eventual Lifetime movie. But it happened.

8. I went to a One Direction concert and a stranger who was drunk and talking animatedly with his hands clocked me straight in the face. I told him it was okay, I missed Zayn too. Again here’s a photo from said evening:

9. At 25 I sent presents to some dude who wrote for the same website as me, because I thought it meant we’d be friends. Now I’m pretty sure he just wanted to have phone sex (never did) because he was lonely as he stopped talking to me the SECOND there was a possibility of us hanging out IRL. Learn from my mistakes kids: don’t send flat-brims to people just because they’re sad. Save that money.

10. I left my number on more coasters and napkins for cute bartenders than I can even remember. It’s not really a cute move though, and I fully shake my head at myself now.

11. I sort of notoriously trolled a guy on Tinder and wrote about it. It made a lot of people really mad. I still stand by my original intent of writing the piece, which was/is that it’s kind of fucked up that we laugh when people threaten us or harass us or even just get rude, but I didn’t execute this well at all. Like honestly, I am linking to it and saying, “I think this ispoorlywritten and I am the one who wrote it.” BUT – I don’t believe in deleting work even when I don’t really relate to it anymore or even when it doesn’t garner the reaction I was hoping for. Instead I just shake my head when I get random messages about this piece (yes, even over a year later) and use it as a reminder to always do better.

12.After my first big breakup I decided to get out of a dodge for a bit and flew home to be with my parents and my childhood best friends. Only problem, I was flying out of my college town on my ex’s birthday. And apparently, his parents were also flying out on the same flight to go on vacation. I was in first class (not bougie – just the only ticket that was available) and they had to awkwardly stand beside me waiting to get to their seats. One of my absolute least favorite memories.

13. I impulsively got a tattoo with a sort of boyfriend one day on my ribs. I didn’t really WANT a rib tattoo but this dude told me it was “so sexy” so I caved. I also made the mistake of not going to a reputable artist, and frankly the tattoo looks like shit now. Eventually I’ll get it covered up but for now, the scratchy quote stays. Here’s another a picture so you can see visual representation of my mistakes!! Yay!

"curiosity often leads to trouble."

A photo posted by Kendra Syrdal (@kendrasyrdal) on Apr 6, 2013 at 4:58pm PDT

14. Once I went out on a date with a guy who actually, seriously quoted that fucking AWFUL book about picking up women called and I didn’t leave. Not only did I not leave, but I let him stay the night at my apartment (didn’t hook up with him because I maintained SOME level of self-respect) AND let him shower in the morning. He used my brand new, pretty spendy Sephora bubble bath as body wash, and opened brand new shampoo. He wanted to have a “discussion” after I told him I wasn’t interested in seeing him again. Yeah…I pick winners.

15.For my 20th birthday party I threw a joint birthday party with my friend Nicki that was “P” themed. This meant everyone who came to the party had to come dressed as something that started with the letter P. (Best costume was this dude Kyle who came as the preamble. It was gold.) The only other rule was that no one could come as a princess because that’s what Nicki and I were being. I dressed like this:

16.I was so in love with a boy that I bought him Decemberists tickets for literally no reason. Actually, come to think of it, a lot of the moments where I look at my younger self and go, “What the actual fuck were you thinking?!” have to do with spending money on boys who didn’t appreciate me. My therapist told me that I show affection through material goods because I have difficulty expressing emotions. Whatever, I’m working on it.

17.I have written so many prose pieces about guys who I knew were pulling away from me in a sad, pathetic attempt to try and make them see that I was worth their time and attention. Spoiler alert: If a guy doesn’t even read your stuff to begin with, this will literally never work.

18. At 23 I went to Las Vegas for my best friend’s 21st birthday and the two of us go so lit up before going to the wax museum that we found a karaoke machine (it’s next to the was figure of Simon Cowell) and started serenading the entire museum with renditions of Celine Dion hits like “Taking Chances” and “The Power of Love.” We attempted to shake his hand after. We cleared the room of 70+ people. What I’m saying is, it was embarrassing.

19. I was really bad about remembering to renew my tags for my car in college and was pulled over for said offense one summer, and still didn’t renew my tags. 7 months (yes I know, I was/am the worst) later I was pulled over AGAIN for the same thing. Apparently there was a warrant out for my arrest and the officer decided midnight was the appropriate time to lecture me about this. Catch? I had just finished a performance ofwhich, if you’re not familiar, is set in Japan. So I was in FULL kabuki makeup while this policeman decided to lecture me about my fuck up. I was sobbing, Ben Nye makeup was smearing everywhere, he felt pretty bad. It was overall just a mess. But I didn’t go to jail. Thanks, Missoula Cop who didn’t take me in while I was still rocking the geisha makeup. I really appreciate it.

20.Iwas feeling vulnerable and sad one Halloween and decided the cure to this was hooking up with my friend’s much younger, VERY hot, trying to be a stripper friend. It was fine, it was whatever. But we hooked up on the floor of an apartment which was basically concrete. I ended up slipping a disc, bruising my tailbone, and having to spend the next 3 months getting chiropractic work to make my back okay again.He was hot, but not hot enough to justify that amount of back pain. #srynotsry

21.I got violently ill once from antibiotics and promptly shit in my leggings after trusting the fart. There is more to the story but again, saving it for my future bestseller.

22. I thought this was a good look. And also did this in public.

23.In college I played Columbia in the live musical version of where, for the midnight shows only, we were topless. I debated about it, but it was a paid gig and I felt fine about it so I decided sure, why not. My boyfriend at the time was NOT okay with it. I later found out he adamantly REFUSED to let his friends come to the show, even going so far as to pay them back for the tickets they had already purchased. I didn’t find this out for years and it still makes me super embarrassed for his behavior.

24.A guy broke up with me when I was 25 because I didn’t make enough eye contact. That was his honest to god reason. (Still bitter.)

25.I went on a mini vacation with some friends to Austin, Texas for my 26th birthday and decided to really just GO for it when I was there. This meant doing one of the ultimate “why not” moments: the Tinder one night stand. Only problem? We didn’t know our way around Texas and I didn’t bring any condoms. So my solution was to have Postmates deliver them. I didn’t even try to play it off and ordered like, chips and gum to make it better. I straight up just ordered a box of 16 Trojan’s to the AirBnb. The delivery man was loling, my “date” was loling, my friends were loling. It was lols all around. 10/10 recommend.

26. A friend of mine came to Seattle for an audition and I took her out one night to blow off some steam/show her the city. We ended up drinking all night with a professional indoor soccer team from Vegas, and I definitely got naked in a photobooth with a bunch of them. Somehow though, I still didn’t get laid. Only I could be one of two girls surrounded by a bunch of guys who were hot, professional athletes, show them all of my tattoos that required me taking my clothes off, and end up going home to eat queso in bed.

27.I lived. I made memories. Or I had those memories told back to me because I didn’t really…well… them. And even though sometimes that makes me all “god dammit smdh” I honestly think it’s pretty dope that I have all of these stories – cringeworthy or what have you.

Plus I once peed on my neighbor’s lawn furniture because she was threatening to call the cops on my Harry Potter themed party. And you can’t pay money for those kinds of stories.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/08/30/27-of-my-most-cringeworthy-moments-from-my-early-twenties-i-will-recount-here-for-your-entertainment/

[thomasreedtn]

Sync Winks and the New Garden

As I await a Sears delivery, I thought I’d take this otherwise unusable block of time to answer FAQ’s about the new garden and our move in general. Sorry, I still cannot reveal the exact city — that will come in time — but based on the number of sync winks and perfect heads up’s and interventions, Divine Timing is obviously in effect!

On Saturday, we were running errands and needed some information from our friend Ingrid, who loves orchids. Just as I made contact with her via text, guess what we passed in the store? A random display of orchids. I had set aside yesterday to begin filling raised beds for all my transported container plants. Knowing we had a groundhog issue with a hidey hole near our shed, I had originally put all the plants up front, but they need such strategic placement due to all the mature trees. It’s very difficult — but not impossible — to eek out 6-8 hours of full sun. Our backyard, by contrast, gets full sun almost the entire day.

I hadn’t seen our resident “whistlepig” aka woodchuck for over a week and was reconsidering my front yard garden and backyard orchard. Guess who made an appearance an hour before I began filling beds? Yep. His hidey hole now has a brand new, low hanging wind chime for startle effect …

…along with a new application of fox pee (humanely harvested from an animal rehab facility). it was a still day, so the pinwheels weren’t whirling, but hopefully, the wind chimes will startle him as much as they do me.

LOL, if I were a groundhog, I would not frequent this yard! I’ve about jumped out of my skin on several occasions with my own pretty deterrents. I need to change my phone’s timer from the wind chime setting, because when it went off and kept chiming louder to remind me to empty the old refrigerator, I leapt to the yard with pounding heart, thinking a whole army of groundhogs was passing under and around all the chimes.

I haven’t seen him again, and to be fair, I’ve had zero damage to any plants. Given a number of other “just in time” synchronicities and Divine Interventions, I took his uncanny appearance just at that moment as confirmation to trust my nudge to make a front yard garden. It’s a great way to meet neighbors, looks pretty, and it leaves the sunny, fenced in backyard for a mini-orchard protected from hungry deer. I’m not sure how the front yard garden will survive the deer, but they don’t come around here often, so I’ll cross that bridge if and when it comes to me. I have lots of mint, hyssop, yarrow and fragrant flowers, since I read that deer don’t browse when their noses get overloaded with smells. We shall see …

I had made sigils (modified to my own design and helpers) before we ever found our house or even knew which city to explore. Among those sigils, I listed “David and Laura live in a compatible city with compatible neighbors” and “I have a right sized garden.” By “right sized,” I meant more manageable, so that I could focus on writing, eating out and socializing more than on full scale urban permaculture. In Goshen, a 1/3 acre yard-en and food forest managed totally by me made sense, but in our new, much more compatible location, I want time to explore our surroundings, as well as time to write more books.

I’ve manifested the space for creativity, but by “right sized garden” I did not (consciously) mean “no garden.” The rest of the sigils have come true in wonderful ways, or they’re continuing to unfold with surprising but joyful details. I have to trust that everything will work itself out. I’ve noticed groundhogs in other areas, but so far so good here.

We do have my trademark resident wasps already, situated very close to the front yard gardens. I don’t know why, but I have had excellent symbiosis with wasps as pollinators, organic predators for destructive bugs, and as vigilant guardians of my crops. I blogged about this dynamic in the post, “Slumlord Beekeeper,” discussing my Mason bee house, resident yellow jackets and predator wasps, as well as how wasps mysteriously kept our Madison neighbor from trampling my garden, while allowing me free, unstung passage wherever I needed to go. When this well intentioned but plant trampling neighbor marveled at how I could garden amidst the wasps, I just smiled and said, “Well, it’s my garden, isn’t it?” I’ve found that when pleas and suggestions don’t work, wasps tend to do the trick.

In any case, the day the movers brought the last truckload of our stuff here, one of them noted wasps building a nest in one of our front lights. David just smiled and said, “That was quick!” When the mover raised an inquiring eyebrow, David added, “They were invited.”

I also saw a hawk the other day after asking for day patrol, and a turkey vulture followed up to confirm a successful hunt. Now the red squirrels or (please say it ain’t so) baby groundhogs seem to avoid our front yard or scurry past as fast as possible. A few people have texted me with synchronous owl hoot reports immediately after I’ve put out telepathic calls for dusk and dawn owl patrol, so we’ll see how that works.

I prefer to live and let live, but I do get rather protective of my plants and my space. In Goshen, the hawk patrol did wonders to keep those nasty black squirrels on good behavior. If I told particularly naughty ones, “That’s it, I’m calling the hawk,” they would hightail it out of there for the rest of the day. I’ve telegraphed The Rules to potential thieves: eat clover instead of my garden, don’t give us ticks, don’t dig up any foundations on our property, and we can get along well. If you insist on devouring to the ground or destroying, I’m calling the hawk. And the owl. And the wasps. You’ve been warned. Be nice.

Several people have expressed excitement to see photos of the new garden. Please keep in mind that we only just moved in, so this year is a complete experiment to see what works where, including the possibility that “a right sized garden” for me consists only of daffodils, garlic and onions, along with a butterfly haven that happens to repel nibbling critters. I have no idea what this land will produce, but I do enjoy the cardinals, HUGE dragonflies, wasps and birdsong all day long.

We also love the park-like views from every window. Trees galore, and many of my favorites! Birch, magnolia, purple maple, blue spruce, dogwood, and weeping cherries: it’s like someone downloaded the list of “Laura’s favorite non-edible trees” and led us to a property that features all of them. If that’s “all” we have long term, then we’ll survive. Our city is loaded with food forests and hydroponics stores, so if all else fails, we can still have yummy community food options and indoor greens.

That said, David and I spent yesterday rehabbing the existing trees, since the previous owners had done nothing to maintain them. In another perfect timing experience, the arborist we consulted last Tuesday told us this season is the last moment we could have pruned these trees to a size that would allow us to keep them. Any larger and more mature, and they would have damaged the house or succumbed to disease or stress. Our place doesn’t look or feel like a rescue mission, but in many ways it is. We synchronously met the previous owner before these sellers on the day we bought this house, and she expressed relief and glee that gardeners were moving in. She had watched in sadness as all her decades of plantings got neglected by people with little time, understanding, resources, or interest in maintaining the beauty.

I’ll share some photos from this afternoon. We so love this weeping birch tree and hope to rehabilitate it back to full health. Yesterday, David spent hours trimming back dead branches, while I mulched the base and added Smart Pots on the Southeast side for sunshine and garden plants, but also for water runoff to help the tree.

Below you can see yesterday’s freshly filled Big Bag Beds, new wind chimes, pinwheels, and the remaining container plants awaiting a delivery of more soil. You can also see the freshly pruned weeping cherries as we look from our house to the street, as well as a purple maple on the right, the weeping birch on the left, and one of many blue spruces right by the street street.

Below you can see a 4:44 photo of the same beds. On the bench you’ll find a cherry tree branch saved for another magic wand like last year’s Asian pear offered, along with my “Live” root beer kombucha. Yes, this is a real time shot while I was out and about tending plants and watching shadows.

Contrast the light at this time in this photo above with the still bright sun in the backyard below, the intended spot of a future mini-orchard. Emphasis on mini. I do have some containers of herbs and native butterfly plants staged for planting in the existing bed of irises and clematis once I get more soil.

The mailbox area boasts abundant daisies in what the previous-owner to the last owners said was a red-white-and -blue 4th of July planting. One red lily looks too sad for photos, and the blue whatever seems to have died from neglect. Have I mentioned how happy this yard is to have a resident gardener again?! This bed bloomed earlier with yellow irises and yellow roses that I just deadheaded. It’s full sun all day, so maybe it will get a Smart Pot or two at some point. I decided to use Smart Pots and Big Bag Beds so that I won’t disturb the roots of existing trees. It also gives me a relatively low cost, low commitment way to experiment in the event that “right sized” means “no edible” garden.

On the possible agenda include an aronia berry bush (superfood ignored by most wildlife), flowering (edible and “deer proof”) quince, red currants (fruit in shade!), three columnar apple trees in containers, and possibly several blueberry bushes (which did fabulously in Big Bag Beds in Goshen). On the very, very maybe list of the extremely well behaved groundhog version of reality, I might also get some dwarf pear or plum trees. We. Shall. See.

For now, I enjoy looking at the weeping cherries and dogwood from my office window, with peeks of taller trees across the street. I can feel the fiction gears starting to turn now that I live in a spot more closely matching my necessary surroundings for writing fiction, and after planting wide varieties of daffodils, fritillaria, alliums and hyacinths this coming fall, it will be time to return to work on the healing Lyme disease book I began last winter.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this little introduction to the new yard. This property has not yet revealed its name to us, but I’ll let you know when it does. Meanwhile, I wish you a Happy Inter-dependence Day. We’re all connected, much more than we know, even when we aim for more self-reliance and independence. When I received my PDC (permaculture design certificate), I was reminded that “the problem is the solution.” Even groundhogs, existing trees, a septic drain field, and a shady front yard. I’ll leave you with the Permaculture Design Principles, good things for us to remember on any day, especially this holiday weekend in the US:

from Thomas Reed https://laurabruno.wordpress.com/2017/07/03/sync-winks-and-the-new-garden/

[bnfbc]

2016 - A Year in Review

This was a special year, as Jachles and Christina welcomed Natalie Jachles into the world on November 8th. Jachles now faces a difficult decision - make Natalie listen to boring non-fiction books as bedtime stories or pull a controversial move and choose “Goodnight Moon” as his next book. The annual year in review meeting was a success, with homemade biscuits (in honor of “Pappy Pass the Biscuits”) and homemade bagels (in honor of Seeds), and a great recap of the year in book club. Without further ado, let’s get to the lists!

Does Natalie Jachles have “The Bunton Strain?”

2016 Books by GPA:

The Path to Power - 3.93

The Triumph of Seeds - 3.67

The Invention of Nature - 3.40

Ghettoside - 3.27

1861 - 3.07

The Signal and the Noise - 3.00

Babyhood - 2.80

How Eskimos Keep Their Babies Warm - 2.70

The Great Starvation Experiment - 2.67

Superintelligence - 2.67

Barbarian Days - 1.92

Andy’s Top Three:

The Path to Power

The Triumph of Seeds

The Invention of Nature

Gabe’s Top Two:

The Path to Power

The Invention of Nature

Jachles’s Top Three:

The Path to Power

The Invention of Nature

1861

Paul’s Top Three:

The Path to Power

The Invention of Nature

The Signal and the Noise

Tommy’s Top Three:

The Path to Power

The Triumph of Seeds

The Invention of Nature

Non Book Club Books We Enjoyed in 2016:

Andy: NeuroTribes by Steve Silberman

Gabe: One Perfect Day by Rebecca Mead

Jachles: Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child by Marc Weissbluth

Paul: Einstein by Jürgen Neffe

Tommy: A Place of My Own by Michael Pollan

Articles We Enjoyed in 2016:

Andy:

The Elusive Runner’s High Has Prehistoric Roots by Matt Wilkinson

Gabe:

The Mind of Donald Trump by Dan McAdams

Jachles: 

After the Process: Meet Sam Hinkie 2.0 by Chris Ballard

Paul: 

Justin Bieber Would Like to Reintroduce Himself by Caity Weaver

Two Hands, One Trophy: a Kawhi Leonard Escapade by Shea Serrano

Woman Says Catfish Fell From Sky, Striking Her Near Art Museum by William Bender

Tommy:

The Last Days of the Polymath by Edward Carr

The AI Revolution: The Road to Superintelligence by Tim Urban

The AI Revolution: Our Immortality or Extinction by Tim Urban

Top Five Chapters in The Path to Power

5. Rayburn

Smack in the middle of this book is a mini-biography of Sam Rayburn, a man who would come to greatly influence LBJ’s path to power. The story of Rayburn’s own rise to power sets him up as a perfect foil to the man he would come to mentor. Rayburn is deeply principled, patient, loyal, and honest - all qualities that our man LBJ would come to see as being roadblocks to a swift ascent. Despite their obvious differences, Rayburn’s desperate desire for a son and LBJ’s gift as a “professional son” set the stage for a lifelong bond between the two men.

Sam Rayburn’s blocky figure -- pounding along the Capitol corridors with strides that one observer likened to the pumping of a piston -- seemed broader now, even more massive, the face beneath the bald skull even more grim and hard. The impression of physical strength was not misleading. Once, two big Congressmen -- one was a 230-pound six-footer, Thomas Blanton of Texas, the name of the other has been lost in time -- got into a fistfight. Stepping between them, Rayburn pushed them apart. Then, bunching each man’s lapels in one hand, he held them apart, his arms rigid. Standing between two men almost a head taller who were thrashing furiously in his grip, he held them, each with one hand, until they had quieted down, as effortlessly as if they had been two crying babies.

4. White Stars and Black Stars

LBJ’s first taste of politics may have been low stakes - San Marcos Teachers College student council - but his rise to power involved all the juicy elements of his bigger campaigns to come. In this chapter we finally see LBJ as the ruthless, scheming, and incredibly driven sycophant that would eventually use those same qualities to become the most powerful person in the world. Caro leaves no rock unturned to tell the story of Johnson’s campus politicking, and sections of this chapter read like a zany historical precursor to the movie Election, with LBJ playing the role of Reese Witherspoon’s character, but even less likeable.

The son of the man whom “you always knew where he stood” let no one know where he stood. Men like Kyle and Puls, into whose ambitions he was scheming to plunge a knife, thought he was their friend until the knife was in up to the hilt. These tactics had, of course, been employed within the confines of campus politics, so small-scale and insignificant compared to the politics of the outside world. Within those confines, nonetheless, had emerged a certain pattern to the tactics -- the politicking -- of Lyndon Johnson. Perhaps the most significant aspect of the pattern was its lack of any discernible limits. Pragmatism had shaded into morality of the ballot box, a morality in which nothing matters but victory and any maneuver that leads to victory is justified -- into a morality that is amorality.

3. The Bunton Strain

You know you’re in for a treat when the first chapter of a biography is 33 pages and it doesn’t even get to the birth of the subject’s parents, let alone the subject himself. In this first chapter, Caro goes deep on LBJ’s ancestors’ physical characteristics (milky white skin, dark eyes) as well as their personality traits (stubborn, idealistic), then paints a vivid picture of the economical and geographical trap that is the Texas Hill Country, and concludes with the quixotic tale of grandpa Sam’s failed cattle-driving empire. All of this may seem superfluous, but each of these narratives sets the stage for themes that will run through LBJ’s life.

So strong were its outward marks that pictures of generations of Bunton men might, except for different hair styles and clothing, almost be pictures of the same man -- a tall man, always over six feet, with heavily waved coal-black hair and dramatic features: large nose, very large ears, heavy black eyebrows and, underneath the eyebrows, the most striking of all the Bunton physical characteristics, the “Bunton eye.” The Bunton skin was milky white -- “magnolia white,” the Hill Country called it -- and out of that whiteness shone eyes so dark a brown that they seemed black, so bright that they glittered, so piercing that they often seemed to be glaring. “When my mother and father came back from seeing the baby and said he had the Bunton eye, I knew exactly what they meant,” says Lyndon’s cousin Ava. “Because Grandmother Bunton had the Bunton eye. If you talked to her, you never had to wonder if the answer was yes or no. Those eyes told you. Those eyes talked. They spit fire.”

2. The Sad Irons

Right in the middle of the section about LBJ’s first term on Capitol Hill, Caro abruptly takes us back to the Texas Hill Country, for a 15-page description of the hardships of farm life before electricity. In classic Caro fashion, the descriptions are vivid, the quotes are used to perfection, and there’s just the right amount of hyperbole to take it over the top. A perfect emotional set-up for one of LBJ’s first legislative successes - electrifying the Hill Country.

Even the concept of the toilet was difficult for them to accept completely; when Errol Snodgrass, newly arrived in Mount Gaynor, began not only to build an outhouse but to dig a pit underneath it, a neighbor said to him: “What do you want that pit for?” And when he explained, Bernice Snodgrass recalls, the reaction of the neighborhood was, “ ‘They’re so highfalutin that they have to have a toilet.’ They thought an outhouse with a pit under it -- they thought that was what people meant when they spoke about a toilet!”

1. “Pass the Biscuits, Pappy”

Without a doubt the dramatic climax of this first book is the gripping saga of Johnson’s first senate race - the 1941 campaign that he lost to W. Lee “Pappy” O’Daniel. Caro takes us on a rollercoaster ride, first by introducing us to the colorful cast of characters in the race, then taking us to the campaign trail, where LBJ used all of his influences to run the most expensive and elaborate congressional campaign in American history. Caro’s descriptions are so vivid that you feel like you are right there at the campaign stops, eating barbecue food, drinking beer, and listening to the best bluegrass musicians money can buy.

Reading this during the 2016 presidential campaign provided a unique and saddening lens to see just how little progress has been made in American campaign ethics in the past 75 years. From the massive amount of questionable campaign dollars, to the ruthless slandering of the opposition, to the attempt to buy the votes of marginalized groups en masse, all the sketchy strategies LBJ was employing in his first campaign have only grown more prevalent with time. It’s almost too easy to draw comparisons between the central figures in the two campaigns - Pappy is Trump (“O’Daniel’s candidacy was not taken seriously by politicians or by the press, which noted his total lack of political experience; reporters treated it as a joke. The principal reason he was running, he said, was to throw them - the ‘professional politicians’ - out of Austin”) - Gerald Mann is Bernie Sanders (“To a man of such deep convictions, there was something almost immoral about the Johnson campaign, with its theatrics, its use of money, the unadorned appeal to selfishness”) - “Cyclone” Davis is Ben Carson (“lived under a Dallas viaduct and announced that he didn’t have to campaign because ‘Providence will place me in the Senate’”) and LBJ is Hillary (“Implicit in Johnson’s delivery of speeches, and in his manner of greeting voters, was the feeling that with the mighty President behind him, he couldn’t lose.”) But just like in 2016, the 1941 campaign ended with a surprise result which sent the establishment candidate packing and sent a racist and incompetent carnival huckster to Washington D.C.

And, indeed, doubts about Pappy’s sincerity were occasionally raised in print by commentators who noted that the first of his fervent paeans to Texas had been composed when he had hardly arrived in that state, having previously lived in Kansas, and that even now he was occasionally prone to minor errors about Texas history -- such as confusing the Battle of San Jacinto with the Alamo. Those closest to him knew that his country-boy image was a pose; he was actually a business-college graduate and a businessman who dealt not just in Hillbilly Flour but in Fort Worth real estate; by 1937, while he was telling his listeners that he was a “common citizen,” poor like them, his net worth had passed half a million dollars. Intimates also had some doubts about the depth of his religious feeling; although he was constantly urging his listeners to go to church, he seldom went himself. But O’Daniel’s listeners, mesmerized by that friendly voice, had no doubts. They bought whatever he was selling.