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creativeashproductions · 4 years ago

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Permanence // Luke Patterson

Summary: On the run for most of her life the reader had been accustomed to being a lone wolf in world with eyes everywhere. Living in the age of technology and life online makes it hard for a girl stuck in a permanent state at nineteen physically. All things change when the reader moves next door to a healing teenager and her ghostly band.

Warning: Swearing, loss of death, talk of injuries/hospital, angst, and fluff

Words: 5.1k (yikes)

A/N: Loosely based on the film Age of Adaline. Also includes a scene using the BBC show Call the Midwife as well. I’ve been MIA due to this fic. I love it.

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The love tingled in your lips as the taxi pulled away from the curb leaving behind the white-haired woman. Your hand raised to wave as the woman turned into a speck in the review mirror but never far from your heart and thoughts.

“Going on a trip?” The taxi driver questioned taking a right turn with a jarring sensation. His brown eyes speedily meeting yours, “Does your mom grandma live in San Francisco?”

A mournful smile appeared on the wrinkle-free complexion, “Something like that.”

The reply didn’t faze the driver in a big city he had chosen to make his living with for his family, he had heard worse. The airport reared its head with the big heavily populated by tourists and loud machinery of transport.

The royal blue wool jacket concealed the black blouse tucked into the grey, and black tartan fitted trousers. Paired with the black velvet kitten heels that had been in your possession for a very long time. Hair left down in the soft waves and makeup natural for the plane right.

The flight was over quickly for the young woman with her carry on, and purse collected you immediately headed to baggage claim. The suitcase was easy found and lifted off the conveyor belt with little trouble. Your expressive eyes finding the taxi, some may call you old fashioned for not ‘ubering’, but it was a nostalgic action.

“Where to?” The taxi driver asked with pretty blue eyes shadowed by the crows’ feet at the corner’s of her eyes. Swiftly you listed off the address to the house you had bought with your vast savings, “Half hour ride.”

You settled back into the leather seat as the city passed by with the memories staunchly kept in a locked box escaping. Los Angeles had been the location of the only family trip you had had in your late teens.

Los Angeles, 1936

“Darling! This Samuel, he owns the restaurant up the beach.” Theodore’s bright white smile gleamed as he returned to your side, “He’s personally invited us to celebrate the first night of our life together.

The pleated cark charcoal pants held up with black suspenders snuggle atop the button-down shirt of denim blue colour. The shirt left with the top two buttons undone revealing the white undershirt. Shiny polished black shoes on Theodore’s feet he was dressed as perfect as the day he caught your runaway hat.

“Oh, thank you.” You told the shy man as he led you up to the well-known restaurant with the gorgeous view of the water.

Samuel went further by providing his best table in the house, leaving the host annoyed at the interruption. The dinner was spent with Theodore listing off the itinerary for the week in the city. From visiting the museums to watching a film at the Los Angeles Theatre recommended by Theodore’s connection from work.

“You like to share a dessert Darling?” Theodore asked tenderly holding your soft hand in his smooth one. His smile never faded as you declined his offer satisfied with the large meal from the five-course dinner.

“I’d much prefer the comfort of our hotel room.” Your lips ended the words with a smile that paired well with the glittering eyes. Theodore’s heart expanded as his wife’s smile, he had fallen in love with first.

“The hotel placed a nice bottle of champagne in our room,” Theodore spoke once the bill was taken care of. He pulled your chair out to help you slip on the navy blue wool jacket on from the back of your chair, “You are absolutely beautiful.”

“Still as charming as ever.” You whispered gazing up at him with such love.

You had loved Theodore from the first chaperoned date at sixteen with the handsome eighteen-year-old that had saved your hat. The wind that day had been unbearable as you walked the beach of San Francisco with your mother. At seventeen, you wed; a mere few days previous. Theodore came from a well-off family but worked as an engineer for the city.

“We’re here.” The taxi driver spoke as the car pulled to a stop at a pretty house painted a blue with white accents.

Mumbling a thank you the driver took off once your belongings found ground on the sidewalk and the fare paid. The house door unlocked with a click revealing the furnishing you had sent and hired a company to build. The boxes of personal belongings had arrived in boxes the previous day and awaited unpacking.

The first order of business on your to-do list was changing the locks as well as testing the safety alarm. The next few hours you unpacked your kitchen and clothing as the locksmith took his time finishing up previous appointments.

Your hand hovered over the oval golden framed photo of your wedding day with Theodore with a smile on both your faces. You didn’t look a day older than the day you married Theodore even if it had been so long. The familiar clench at the sight of the man happened every time you saw the photo.

“You’d be so proud of Rosie.” Your index finger caressed the elegant picture of your first love with a mournful emotion.

Pulled from the sad memories as the doorbell rang signalling the arrival of the locksmith. The appointment was swift before you finished unpacking the living room from the bookcase to the picture frames. As the minute handle circled the clock face, you settled in for the simple meal.

“Tea on the porch.” You sighed curling into the cherry red Adirondack chair in the front porch watching as children went inside their houses.

It wasn’t how you had anticipated your life dreaming of a life with a family in a lovely home. You never expected to live in fear for your life, and your child’s as the second World War reared its ugly head. You never envisioned having to move every few years to keep safe. Lastly, you had never foreseen watching Rosie’s hair turn white before your own. You thought you’d be buried beside your husband after a long life. So far, it had been too long at this point with your childhood friends all dead.

“Hi.” The voice of a teenage girl spoke. Your gaze left your lukewarm tea for the girl at the bottom of your porch.

Strands of her curly textured hair pulled away from her face it revealed her clear tawney complexion. The most expressive brown eyes framed with thick lashes that took your breath away with the kindness in them.

“You just moved in right?” The girl asked as you climbed down the steps to the younger teenager, “I’m Julie Molina, I live next door.”

“Hello Julie, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You spoke, shaking the extended hand of the young girl inspecting her.

Her fashion was obviously of the current time whereas your own style was a mixture of different eras. The style fits in but touches to bring in the past decades you had lived through.

“Where are your parents?” Julie asked with a furrowed brow.

“I live alone.” You replied sighing as the confusion flashed in the younger teen’s eyes before you elaborated, “I’m nineteen. I bought the house, my parents live in my home state.”

They weren’t living, but they were buried in the cemetery with the other family members that had since passed. Unless a freak accident happened, your plot near your husband wouldn’t be filled. The only person who knew the truth was Rosie, she was your daughter.

“Wow! That’s cool.” Julie beamed glancing over her shoulder as her phantom friends poofed in behind her.

The sudden appearance startled you and while it was confusing you had become well acquainted with weird. You hadn’t aged a day since a stormy night on the country roads in 1938 heading to pick up Rosie. You barely flinched at the appearance.

“Oh damn, Julie’s neighbour is hot.” The leather jacket one spoke scanning the newcomer with an awed expression.

The boy with the sleeveless top sharing the same awed expression. Whereas the blonde in pink’s breath released in an exasperated sigh. Only a corner of your lips twitched up at realization this must happen quite a bit.

“I should head back inside. I have a few more boxes to unpack. It was lovely to meet you, Julie.” Your eloquent words taking the boys by surprise from the lack of modern language and slang. You didn’t use any of the terms that Julie and Flynn spoke in.

Luke followed Julie with glances over his shoulder to the back of the mysterious girl closing her front door. It wasn’t often Luke was intrigued by anything other than his music. Still, something about you was the most interesting thing. Not even touring some of his favourite bands’ personal homes was as interesting.

“C’mon Luke!” Reggie called out to the lingering teenage ghost. Unbeknownst to the retreating guitarist, your curtain had been pulled away as you peeked at him.

Over the next few weeks, you had become acquainted with Julie, even admitting to seeing the boys. It was a mess of Reggie blushing at your revelation of hearing his comments on your beauty. It wasn’t earth-shattering, but it was a friend group.

Two months later, over the course of a week, you withdrew from the group for the comfort of your living room. A garbage bin for used tissues as it sank in once more that the anniversary of Theodore’s death rolled around. 82 years since he was tragically killed.

You looked a mess and barely reacted when the four friends to it upon themselves to enter your home. Your hazy mind barely caught onto the arrival as Julie ushered your saddened form to the bathroom.

As Julie helped dress you, taking it from the extensive closet, the boys cleaned up the living room, and Alex poofed out. He returned with a pizza he began cooking coming to a stop at Luke’s gaping gaze at the mantel above the fireplace.

“What’s wrong?” Alex demanded rushing to the guitarist side equally shocked. Perfect timing as you came back into the living room with Julie.

“That’s Theodore.” The words came out gravely from the lack of use for the past few days. Your feet brought you to the side of the three boys, “It was raining the day. The sky broke when we left the church.”

“That’s you?” Reggie inquired frantically glancing between the old photo and your exact replica of the picture.

Julie gasped at the sight picking out the scar on the edge of your forehead barely seen in the photo but the matching appearance remarkable. The soft smile appeared as your hand came to grab the frame remembering the lovely day—the beautiful ceremony and the small reception before heading out for the honeymoon.

“Theodore Prescott was eighteen when I first saw him on the beach in San Francisco. Mother and I chose a windy for a walk; my hat blew away. Straight into the trousers of a young man that I would fall in love with instantly.” Your smile grew as your form settled back on the couch, having traded the frame for an old album. The four people were quiet.

“We married a year later in 1937, I was seventeen years old. Theodore whisked me off to Los Angeles for our honeymoon. We dined at fancy establishments, caught a film at the Los Angeles Theatre.” Your smile faded, leading Julie’s heart to clench as she knew that expression from seeing it in the mirror, “He was an engineer.”

“What happened?” Julie questioned grasping your soft hand in her own hand, focusing her eyes on your face. Your face remembering one of the most challenging times.

“Theodore was an engineer for the construction of the Golden Gate Bridge. A section of the bridge collapsed taking three men down. Theodore was one of them.” A lone tear travelled down your cheek, “It was difficult grieving my husband and caring for our daughter.”

Luke’s gasp was audible, “Are you a ghost?”

“No.” You told the seventeen-year-old guitarist, “I’ve been nineteen for the last 83 years.”

“Eighty-three years?!” Reggie exclaimed completely taken aback blinking fast to take it in, “Did you find a fountain of youth? Some special French creams?”

“Reg, shut up.” Alex elbowed the raven-haired teenager in the side with an apologetic smile, “I’d apologize and say he isn’t normally like this…but you know us too well.”

“It’s alright Alex,” You told the drummer fiddling with his ring as you returned back to Reggie, “It was storming in 1938, but I had promised to meet my parents and Rosie at the cabin. Visibility got worse, and I fishtailed right off the road into the ravine. I’m not sure the science but I know I died, and then I woke up.”

“This so weird,” Luke mumbled listening intently to the story with wide eyes that quickly matched his friends.

“Believe it’s shocking when your daughter graduates from college with her mother looking younger than her.” The bitter chuckle couldn’t be held back, remembering it as the first time you were retitled as Rosie’s sister.

“I just got used to being a ghost.” Alex sighed, settling into the armchair to the left of the couch. Luke sat on the couch next to you while Reggie took the armchair across from Alex.

As the sun rose higher and began to set, you enthralled the teenagers with stories of your long life. Luke was the most interested in the music you have seen evolve over the course of time, and the musicians you had met. In telling them stories, it allowed you to step out of the dark abyss of your mind.

“Freddie Mercury?” Luke asked from the other cherry red Adirondack chair turned to see you in the matching one.

“I had coffee with him in a little hole in the wall coffee shop in New York. He loved whip cream, but he didn’t like the dairy they used. The shop is now a Starbucks.”

The giggle escaped at Luke’s look of absolute awe, “That’s so rad.”

“Rad. Haven’t heard that in a long time.” The sparkle for sure would have sent Luke’s heart thudding like Alex’s drumming in Now or Never; if it still beat that is.

“…so do you think people can fall in love more than once?” Luke had been very undecided in asking the question. Everyone around could tell he felt something for you so unlike any other relationship.

You kissed your teeth, thinking about how to properly articulate your thoughts on such a heavy subject. It was clear that you felt something for the teenage ghost even if you had lived far longer than Luke had.

“I think it’s possible. Luke, I’ve lived a long time and while I’ll love Theodore for as long as I live that doesn’t mean I have been alone.” You revealed to the ghostly guitarist stepping back in a part of your history buried incredibly deep.

“The way you were torn up made me think-“

“I’ll always mourn Theodore, I had a year, and that was never enough. I worked as a midwife in England in the late 1960s.”

Poplar, London, England circa 1960s

The blonde-haired bombshell marched her way through the crowded Poplar district in London scanning the late-night Christmas shoppers. Beatrix, Trixie to her friends, had a young mother a mere street away. The only available midwife to help her happened to be off duty shopping for gifts.

Trixie was thankful for the American accent that distinguished the midwife from the crowd, pointing her towards a store window. Your eyes dragged away from the lovely young mother giving her thanks for delivering her baby a few months prior.

“Trixie!” You beamed, revealing a white smile that lit up your pretty eye colour. Trixie’s anxious expression dropped the smile, however, “Is something wrong?”

“Jenny Turner is in labour. Tom is with her right now, but I need help. Everyone is further away.”

In seconds you had pulled the charcoal cape secured by the bands crisscrossing your shoulders to properly rest. The cloak had armholes with material covering the holes, no sleeves seen. The cape covered the plain light blue nurse uniform with the white-collar and the maroon red cardigan.

Trixie led you to the small apartment housing twenty-one-year-old, Jenny, with Reverend Tom Hereward waiting. This would be Jenny’s second child with her husband Roger leaving the midwife’s nervous after her first pregnancy.

“Hello, Jenny.” You spoke stepping closer to the woman, “Trixie said you requested my presence.”

“You delivered my first baby. I want you here, Roger a county away for work.” Jenny heavily spoke as a contraction ended, “I’m not due for two weeks.”

“Baby Turner is too excited to meet their big brother.” You soothed settling beside the young mother, “You’re in great hands with Trixie. You are close to the hospital and the clinic if you’d prefer to move.”

“No. I want to stay.” Jenny was sure of that, at least. Her hand left yours to clench the white bedsheets as a contraction clenched her midsection.

“Then I’ll be right here with you.”

It was a promise you kept as Trixie delivered a healthy baby girl appreciating your help when you cleaned the baby. Trixie helped Jenny deliver the afterbirth and clean up the room just in time for Jenny’s mother to enter the room.

“I came as soon as I could.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Jenny spoke with a small tired smile. The smile that made the job worth watching babies being born, of family’s growing.

Tom was waiting outside in the living room as you exited the bathroom. Your heart fluttered at the sight of the Reverend Hereward waiting for you with his patient smile and a tender look in his blue gaze.

“How is Jenny?” Tom asked, holding the door to the street open.

“Tired after delivering Cynthia. Cynthia is an eight-pound baby with no complications. Thank you for praying Tom.”

“Trixie informed me of Jenny’s first pregnancy, and I felt like I was needed. Do you happen to be free tomorrow night?” Tom asked, linking his fingers in yours with a smile that almost looked nervous.

“I am.” You responded as Tom walked you to Nonnatus House where the unmarried midwives resided. You stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, “Good night Tom.”

“I’ll meet you at the park,” Tom responded, waiting patiently as you entered the building before he turned on his heel to head to his residence. Unknown to him, you peered down from your bedroom window as he pulled something out of his pocket.

A small box housing a ring he would propose with the very next night. A ring that broke your heart. A ring that you’d never see up close as you handed in your resignation and left England as quickly as possible.

Luke’s invested gaze shuttered as you revealed you had run away before Tom could propose because it could never happen.

“He was going to propose, and you didn’t say goodbye?”

“I don’t know if I could have said no when he asked. I wish I knew what I would have said, but it was unfair. How could Tom, as a Reverend, accept that his fiancée or wife would never grow old? It went against everything he believed in.” You countered with a raised eyebrow, “He married the midwife that was hired a year after I left. Barbara Gilbert. Trixie sent me the letter.”

Luke’s perceptive eyes caught the tinge of sadness in your gaze recalling the second man you had loved. You loved with your whole heart and with that came a lot of heartbreak.

“Do you keep in contact with them?”

“I send a letter to Trixie every once in a while, to check up on her. She married a few years after I left and had a few children. I believe she had a step-daughter.”

Luke’s mouth went to open before a flash of light, and a slight gasp was heard from the blonde drummer. His eyebrows raised as the close proximity between his best friend and his new friend. He shook it off as he turned to face Luke fully.

“Did you forget? We have a gig.” Alex spoke amused as Luke’s eyes widened theatrically vividly recalling the excitement in Julie’s eyes.

You waved the duo off to disappear in a ball of light to the gig they had for the night while you entered your home. You didn’t hear Alex make a comment that Luke couldn’t deny.

“You’ve fallen for her,” Alex spoke just outside the coffee shop that housed the record execs with the power to change their afterlife. The quirk of a smile sealed Alex’s opinion of the girl.

Content to spend your time in the house you retreated to the kitchen. Your hand slipped into your pocket for the phone that had few contacts such as Rosie and Julie’s along with the number of Rosie’s doctor. Mostly pictures of Rosie and landscapes but never your face, not after the 1953 incident.

Living next door to the Molina’s you often shared recipes with Ray, he had taken you under his wing. He felt empathetic with the young neighbour he saw you as a daughter almost, unaware that it would the other way around. You had years on the widowed father.

The wooden spoon stirred the sizzling stir-fry that had been a fixture in raising a rambunctious little girl interested in skinny her knees. The stir-fry was the quickest meal while Rosie played outside or in the little play corner with her dolls. It seemed like the world knew when your phone rang.

“Hello, darling.” You spoke securing the phone between your neck and shoulder, “Did you teach Gladys poker?”

The silence was stifling, “Is this Y/N Y/L/N?”

A cold sweat broke out as the unfamiliar voice came from Rosie’s cell phone roused the deep-seated fear of loss. The wooden spoon in your hand clattered on the tile flooring of the modest-sized kitchen.

“Your grandmother Rosemary Prescott tripped over a cane. You’re her emergency contact.”

“Has she been admitted to the hospital? How extensive are her injuries? Let me get a pen and grab the address.” You rambled frantically scouring the kitchen for the notepad, “Was she alone?”

“She’s still being seen by the doctor, and I’m unable to reveal the details over the phone. Her friend Gladys was there, and she hasn’t left your grandma’s side.” The person responded in an even tone with the failed intention of soothing you.

“What’s the address?”

“I’m a nurse at Zuckerberg San Francisco General Hospital and Trauma Center.” The nurse prattled off, providing the address and visiting hours.

As soon as the call ended, you had quickly grabbed a quick bite from the meal before packaging it up. Next, you dug out the small suitcase to pack the essentials with the mental capacity of a zombie. The bag was stowed in the backseat of the car while you kept your purse on your shoulder.

You barely comprehended knocking on the Molina door or Ray opening it, “Hello Y/N.”

“Ray. Tonight, I made stir-fry, I’ll be out of town for a few days.” You told the man catching sight of both Carlos and Julie in the background.

“Are you okay?” Ray questioned taking the container from your shaking hands, “Do you need us to do anything?”

“Could I have a h-hug?” You stuttered feeling a smidge better than the older man tugged you in for a hug. Two pairs of arms joined with the Molina kids ambushing you.

“You’re coming back, right?” The question came from the concerned hazel-eyed guitarist watching the interaction with a particular look. A look he knew came from not being able to comfort you.

“I’ll be back once I know Rosie is okay.” You replied, locking eyes with Luke over Ray’s shoulder earning a tender smile from the male.

“I’ll pray for your Grandma,” Ray spoke, stepping back to let both Julie and Carlos say their goodbyes to their neighbour. Everyone but Carlos and Ray half-heartedly smirking at Ray’s belief that Rosie was older than you.

Unlike typical times you didn’t linger in the Molina home with the distracted thoughts of Rosie injured with her mother with her. Rosie is the only thing you would drop anything for, the love of a mother and her child. So distracted by your thoughts you didn’t notice Luke had appeared right beside you.

“Are you driving?” Luke asked, tapping his shoe on the porch step, bringing your sad eyes to meet his, “Or are you taking a plane?”

“A plane. It’s a five-hour drive to San Francisco from here not taking in traffic time. I bought a last-minute ticket.” You replied, heading straight for the car with Luke hot on your heels to the vintage car.

Half of you wanted to refuse his evident intention to join you, but a part of you yearned for the comfort. A stroke of luck had a plane seat beside yours empty, time didn’t exist, but it dragged on at the same time. So lost in thoughts you never noticed the brush on a pinkie on your skin.

While you stared off in the distance, Luke’s jaw was dropped at the silky feel of your skin. Words bubbled up his throat just before he knew it wasn’t the right time to bring it up. Instead, he chose different words to regale you with stories of his childhood.

“I begged for a dog when I was eight years old. Reggie had this golden retriever his family had before he was born. My dad was allergic in the end, so I was content with Reggie’s dog.” Luke spoke, “That didn’t mean I didn’t sneak in this stray one night. We kept him in the garage while we found him a forever home.”

“What was his name?”

“Fender.” Luke sheepishly spoke, catching the tweak of your smile as the clouds in your eyes cleared for a few minutes. Luke loved being able to ease your mind through the flight, not holding back on the embarrassing stories either.

“Thank you.” You told the easy natured teenager with a familiar flutter in your chest that terrified you.

You could name only one other time you had felt that flutter when everything was easy. 1936 with a man you thought would be your one and only. Feeling something that strong for a ghost was incredibly scary.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Luke asked just outside the closed hospital door, separating you from your daughter. Your lips parted to deny his question but you couldn’t so you simply shook your head.

“Come in!” The voice was prompt after knocking on the door. Opening the door, you found Rosie’s grinning in her bed with Gladys at her side, scolding her.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” Gladys spoke shuffling by you out of the door with a quick hug. The second Gladys closed the door, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Rosemary Elspath Prescott. What were you thinking?” You crossed your arms walking closer to Rosie, “You know your ankle hasn’t been the same-“

“-since I shattered during a cheer comp in college. Mama, I know. It was an accident.” Rosie softly spoke just before her gaze met Luke’s with fear planted squaring in her blue gaze. Luke’s lips parted, “He knows?”

“Oh.” Luke blinked at the sudden new change in his afterlife with Rosie actually seeing him, “I’m Luke.”

“This is going to sound craz-“

“Mama, you’ve been nineteen for over eight decades. I think we’ve hit the crazy already, tell me. Before I get a bad heart.” Rosie joked with that twinkle you saw countless times over the years.

The first time you saw it was when you found her on the counter at age two when she learned how to climb. Other times included her sneaking out to a senior party with her friends and the teasing she started when she got her first grey hair.

“You better have taken our discussion about your salt intake serious young lady.” You pointed at her mere seconds before your shoulders dropped. You leaned down to kiss the crown of her head, “Luke’s a ghost.”

Rosie’s lips parted, staring down the boy before whispering very softly in your ear, “Well. At least he doesn’t age. You look happy with him Mama, I’m not getting any younger, and he’s really cute.”

“Don’t talk like that.” The low response came out broken at the horrible future where you would bury Rosie.

A cold hand landed on your waist as you stretched to place an ornament on the tree you chose with Luke. The wire hugged the branch a ghost of a kiss pressed against your cheek, a moment of quiet in the loud house. Reggie and Alex had been baking cookies with Rosie for the last two hours. Julie was finishing her family dinner at her home before she would come over.

“Merry Christmas,” Luke murmured tugging you in his chest. A flutter of butterflies moving in your tummy.

Once Rosie had been discharged from the hospital, she had been convinced to temporarily move to Los Angeles. For the first time since Rosie’s senior year in high school, you got to live with her. Subtlety had never been her strong suit with nagging you and Luke about getting together.

“Merry Christmas.” You replied, stretching to peck his lips once before cuddling into his chest with the thick sweater.

“Would you like a cookie…Dad.” Rosie teased, bringing a tray into the living room with the gooey chocolate chips.

Another revelation other than being able to touch the boys was that once Julie saved them from Caleb, they could eat small quantities. They couldn’t eat a lot, and they didn’t need it, but it was a comfort to the group.

“That’s so weird.” Alex chortled, taking in the shocked and uncomfortable expression Luke had. Reggie beamed with a mouthful of cookie. This was the first Christmas the boys had surrounded by only acceptance, love, and untainted happiness.

“How about we stick to Luke?” Rosie chuckled just as weirded out by the odd age gap and the forever youth the couple displayed.

While Rosie interacted with the arrival of both Flynn and Julie, you curled into Luke’s embrace taking in the room. Julie and Flynn listened to the rebellious stories Rosie carried. Alex had retreated to the kitchen with a guy with shoulder-length brunette hair. Reggie was involved in a conversation with Ray; another unexplained phenomenon after the Orpheum.

Your eyes found the mantle with the picture of Theodore and you. Right beside it a lovely photo with Luke dipping you in a kiss and besides that picture was the very last picture of Luke with his parents. How lucky you had been in the years you had lived to end up with a chosen family.

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#luke patterson imagines #julie and the phantoms imagines #luke patterson x reader #charlie gillespie imagines #jatp luke #jatp fanfic #luke patterson #caitsy and ash productions

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mybukz · 5 years ago

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Work-in-progress: When Plan's Stolen by Fate by Deborah Wong

Image by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

When Plan’s Stolen by Fate (Novel excerpt from “One Maple Summer’) By Deborah Wong

It’s July 2010. I’m praying the germ-infused Boeing 777 will land in one piece at Vancouver International Airport, and my Nokia 1202 from back home will function. The Pacific Coast forces may have stolen a bit of my luck as I now have no signal—the battery was well-fed and ready to kick ass.

“If you need any assistance, please don’t hesitate to call me,” Sandy, the UBC accommodation officer says. Her smile shines sunnier than the Kellogg’s TV happy family commercial.

I thank her and she hugs me.

“Is there a public phone I can use around this area?”

“There’s one at the concierge but it’s under repair. You can try the one at the Student Centre, about ten minutes walking distance.”

“Alright, thanks for the info.”

“No worry. Take care.”

My heart sinks faster than the Titanic; my headache from the jet lag keeps me up like synchronised car hydraulics coupled with Eminem’s rap. To make matters worse, I’m unable to call my parents about my safe arrival—thanks to my dead phone. Sitting here alone, I want to throw myself off the bouncy comfortable bed, snooze off, and let the tantalising air joyride into a lullaby. No one would yell at me for falling asleep; I smell like an overripe durian.

The digital clock in black and white on the wall states 4:44pm.

With a foggy light brain, I try to balance and change into a fleece hooded sweater and denim shorts. I have no choice but to head to the Student Centre. I hope to stumble—miraculously—onto a phone booth. I roll my Holy Rosary in my pocket.

I step out of the dorm and lock the door like an infant experiencing the glaring evening sun at the foreign land. The cold breeze sweeps onto my face and penetrates my head and whole body. I solemnly declare my brain frozen without the help of immense scoops of Haagen Daaz.

I hear thumping footsteps. I brace for the worst. My hand grips the tree, and I prep myself to fly kick à la Bruce Lee’s Enter the Dragon.

As the footsteps get closer, I punch out my left fist and yell.

When I open my eyes, a man in glasses frowns. “Are you okay?”

I clear my throat and adjust my hooded jacket, embarrassed. “Of course, I…was practising my Kung-Fu.”

He smirks. “You picked the wrong place. What if I carried a knife and I stabbed you as self-defence? You’re lucky I’m not a pervert. You never know what a motherfucker will do. Next time don’t hide behind the tree.”

“Okay, thanks for your advice.” I choke as I feel my face heat up like a red lobster.

“Have a pleasant day and a great summer.”

“I know this sounds crazy but if you don’t mind, could you please lend me your phone? I need to send a text home.”

He turns and studies me.

“I know this sounds weird but I just got here and my phone isn’t working. I really, really need to send a text to my dad back in Kuala Lumpur, to let him know I’ve reached here. Why don’t I pay you a dollar?”

He thinks for a while. “Alright, I won’t charge a cent.” He takes out his Blackberry. “You want to type it yourself?”

“It’s better if you type it for me. It’s your phone anyway.”

“Okay.“ He types like a world champion, listening to me. “You may want to take a look before I send the text.”

I quickly read it. “Okay, you can send it now. Thank you.”

“That’ll be fifty cents service charge.”

“WHAT.”

“Hey, I was joking. I may charge if you’re texting your boyfriend. Anyway, welcome to Vancouver and UBC. I stay in Pacific Crescent.”

“Where is that?”

“Go straight from here, right behind the Asian Studies building, near the Nitobe Memorial Garden.”

“That place looks posh. I’m sure it cost you quite a bit.”

“I have friends coming over very often; hence staying in a dorm isn’t a smart choice. An apartment feels more like a home to me.” He glances at his gunmetal watch. “I need to rush to the convenient store. It’s a great pleasure knowing you.”

“Do they sell any sandwiches or pastries?”

“They only have selection of sandwiches, instant salad and packed sushi.”

“Great, maybe you can show me the way?”

“Sure, no problem…”

“I didn’t get your name.” I walk beside him.

“I’m Jun Nakamura.”

I have not been in this foreign land for twelve hours and I’ve been invited to this house party. Jun tells me Mansfield Heights is the most eventful student housing area in UBC, coming alive only in summer.

There’re blue poles along the cemented walkway and red lightings at each corner. If anyone looks suspicious, ready for misdemeanour or voyeurism, one presses the emergency intercom, a safety object for students, a deterrent. On the other hand, if I were in such situation, I’d run for my life and be sure to look out for this emergency button.

“There’s surveillance camera installed in each lamppost for supervision that links directly to the Vancouver Police Department,” Jun says. His hair is ruffled into pointy soft spikes. He is wearing peasant’s crinkled cut washed jeans and a white t-shirt that reveals his fine avid gym-goer chest.

“So, what kind of party your friend’s having?”

“Booze drinking, cigarettes smoking, chatting and whole loads of eating; take a look around you, it is Friday night but we have to clear the coast by midnight.“ He stops and studies me. “Have you been to any house party before?”

“I did but it was long time ago.”

“How long is long time?”

“I think about fourteen years ago.”

“Whoa, that’s like immeasurable yards away. Anyway we’re here.”

Jun ambles to this NHL nightclub bouncer lookalike, except he has a crimson face and dirty blondish hair. Their greeting is front and back palms slapping and then fists punching like the ghetto Harlem boys.

“Oh c’mon, we don’t welcome underage here.” He stares at me.

“I’m already twenty-eight.”

He laughs. “Sorry, my bad…But you don’t look like your age.”

“So, am I invited?” I raise my brows.

“Of course, you PYT, I’m Montgomery Peterson. Everyone calls me Monty.”

“I’m Maxine Cheong, nice to meet you, Monty.”

Out of nowhere, a girl hops into Jun’s arms, giving him a bear hug, and a quick peck on his cheek. She has porcelain skin and raven shoulder-length hair. “You’re late!”

“Kendra, I want to introduce you to Maxine from Malaysia.“ Jun lets go of her.

“Oh, how un-fucking-believable…” She covers her mouth and smacks his arm. “So, you decided to change your taste for the better, huh?”

“Well, I’m not Jun’s girlfriend,” I smile, curtly.

“Don’t be so serious and spoil the party, or else I’ll throw you out.”

I turn to Jun. Everyone seems to have gone quiet.

“I was just joking. I’m Kendra Choi.” Her tone becomes friendlier.

“Maxine Cheong.”

“You have the coolest name here in Vancouver so far lucky-lucky you.”

Jun returns to the crowd after answering a phone call. “It’s Makoto and he’s stranded at the guardhouse with Yosuke and Paul. The security guard refused to let them in, despite their party invitation pass.”

“Speaking of that guard, he kept calling me a Mongolian and asked whether my family slaughtered horses for a living,” Kendra says.

After Monty and Jun leave to rescue their friends, Kendra and I bump past party-goers before reaching the house living room. She speaks into my ear. “Sorry to disappoint you but it’s still too early to spot a drunkard.”

“I guess they’ll become Intoxicated Cinderella by midnight.”

All the seats are occupied. I have to sit on the carpeted floor, among vinyls of Ozzy Osborne, Green day, Dave Matthews Bands, Cypress Hills, Queen, David Bowie, Rage Against The Machine, just to name a few. Kendra has returned from the washroom.

“Monty once formed an indie rock band during his teens. The band was quite a success from Port Coquitlam to White Rock. But then a fight broke out a day before they were supposed to sign a million-dollar record deal. You wanna know why? The bassist caught the lead guitarist fucking his girlfriend in their trailer. Hell broke lose. All the instruments were damaged by the bassist who ran amok. Worse still, the boys have to pay off the loan and the damaged instruments to the music shop.”

“What instrument Monty played?” I refuse to accept an opened cap bottled drink from a random guy.

“Drums and percussion. He was also a turntablist,” she says with a shrug and a snort, “but one lesson that no other guys will ever learn: do not let your girlfriend join the band practise. Girls fall head over heels with men who play guitars or drums.”

I grab a can of Dr. Pepper from the refreshment bar, while Kendra fills up a plate with finger food. A guy by the banister eyes us before taking up with a girl. Both head upstairs after the guy winks at me.

We spot a three-seater sofa.

“These seats are meant for both of you, my exotic princesses,” says a Hispanic-looking man. He has been feeding another man with bacon stripes.

The Nirvana’s MTV Unplugged record is spinning in the vintage oak wood player. I’ve always been mesmerised by Kurt Cobain’s baritone voice.

“I don’t like his grinding dick voice.” Kendra walks to the player and lifts the needle with the cue lever. “Thanks to Janis Joplin, Joan Jett and Amy Lee, rock music is in my blood now.” She puts on a vinyl of The Runaways, that Cherry Bomb song filled with chattering noises and perfumed muskiness.

“I love X-Japan. Do you like them?”

“Me too!” We do a high-five. “But if you want me to wear a hanbok and play the gayageum in front of Korean men. No way José! Over my dead body! It looks damn submissive. I’ve been referred as a ‘leftover woman’ for not yet being married.”

“You’re not alone. I hear that very often. It happens to me as well. And what a cruel term is that? Nowadays in the Asian community, single and unmarried women are hiring men online to be their boyfriend to please their folks during festive seasons, or to attend their friend’s wedding.”

“Women have the earning power and are financially independent too. Some will have to succumb to the social pressure of not wanting to be called ‘leftover’, hence they get married and start a family, work their peachy-butts out, struggle to get promotion at work, earning more monies for the sake of their children. In the end of the day, it’s always easy to say. But to preserve such feminist though is difficult.”

“I’m in my thirties and not looking forward into getting married,” she says.

“Let’s make a toast to both of us, the most attractive leftovers.”

I raise my paper cup.

She pokes her nose. “Damn, how come I don’t even know you’ve been drinking orange juice? Let’s get you a beer.”

“I’m still recovering from jet lag. Sorry.”

“You should come over to my place one day and we’ll cook up a storm.” She stretches to grab two bottles of beer. “I invite Jun along too. He’s good at ramen, sushi, butter-poached seafood and miso soup.”

“Isn’t that…a big task for him?” I take a bottle but put it aside.

“Give me a break. That guy’s a chef.”

“Jun…is a chef?”

“That smoochy-bear, he is freakingly dedicated and talented. He has worked in Washington DC’s Marriott for couple of years, and then quit after he was promoted to an assistant chef. As to why he quit, well, Jun doesn’t talk about it.”

“…must be those shitty management politics.”

“I still think teaching is the best work so far. Less office politics.”

“You’re a teacher?”

“I teach English to adults and young adults in Tokyo.“ She wipes bread crumbs from her mouth. “And I know this is something uncommon. Even my grandparents are strongly opposed to anyone of us working there due to the Japan-Korea Disputes. So what’d you do for a living?”

“I’ve worked in an insurance company’s claims department for three years. It’s a huge department but most employees quit after the three-month probation. I handle mostly personal accident, employees’ medical bills reimbursement and at times on workers’ provident fund dispute.”

“Any weird cases you’ve dealt with?”

I lean my head on the sofa. “I was reading a decomposed body autopsy report in the food court and a waiter cringed when he saw those bloodied photos of torn phalanges on the claim file. He asked whether the man’s still alive. I said he should be lucky that his fingers didn’t fly into his colleagues’ mouth. His reaction was like this…” I imitate the painting from The Scream.

“Your work is very CSI-ish, so to speak. By the way, I’m curious as to how Jun and you get to know each other.”

“I bumped onto him when my cellphone isn’t working and he helped me to send a text message home.”

“I think you’ve missed the most crucial part.” Jun is walking toward us with a bottle.

Kendra sniffs Jun’s neck. “You smell like fresh from the crispy oven.” She puts her arm over his waist. “He is always so helpful, but inviting you to his friend’s party is his first time. Lot of girls are trying to get their hands on him too.”

Jun whispers to me. “She’s out.”

She clutches her beer bottle, a smile forming on her face. “But you serve a good impression on me, but my experiences taught me not to trust an acquainted human girl too much.”

Later that night, Kendra follows me like a puppy afraid to lose direction. Her eyes stay on Jun whenever we’re engaged in an ear-to-ear conversation because of the loud music at the DJ stands. She puts three Budweiser in front of me. “You have to bottoms up. I don’t care.”

I still have those butterflies in my stomach and don’t have much appetite. But towards the second bottle, Jun pulls Kendra to the kitchen area, and asks Makoto to bring her more food.

Approaching midnight, Makoto offers to drive me back to the dorm, even though it’s only ten minutes walking distance. I’m unable to find Monty to bid goodbye. Jun tells me he’s already passed out near the toilet bowl, and he carries grumpy Kendra into the back of Makoto’s car. I wind down the window, inhale the gentle ocean breeze as the car moves along Marina Drive, but the tranquillity ends with Kendra counting chicken and sheep in a slur.

Deborah Wong: "My works have been published on numerous online journals and paperback magazine, including Crack the Spine, Rat’s Ass Review, Eksentrika, Thought Catalog, Liquid Imagination, Strange Horizons. Some are forthcoming from Frozen Wavelets and Seagery Zine. I have performed at local reading groups and open mic poetry sessions. I am currently working on a fictionalised travel memoir and some speculative poetry and fiction. I have an ongoing artwork-poetry crossover project with an emerging Australian artist on Instagram. You can follow me on Twitter @PetiteDeborah ‘When Plan’s Stolen by Fate’ is the first chapter of my work-in-progress semi-autobiographical novel ‘One Maple Summer’. The novel is about my intensive creative writing workshop at the University of British Columbia in the summer of 2010. At 28 I traveled for the first time 12 thousand kilometers to the other side of the continent. My debit card and cellphone failed, and the one-month stay at a pen pal’s place turned out not as imagined. However, things navigated otherwise when I received accolades from my creative writing course instructors. Discovering the melting pot of diverse cultural background of acquaintances made traveling worth a lifetime.”

#work in progress #novel #malaysian literature #malaysian fiction #malaysian arts #Deborah Wong #when plan's stolen by fate

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audreysmusicaljourney · 3 years ago

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Album #84: AC/DC “Back in Black” (1980)

I know people who love AC/DC, and I know people who hate AC/DC. I think they’re one of the more polarizing bands just due to their distinct sound. I like them. I have definitely listened to this album a few times.

This album also begins with the tolling of some bells on “Hells Bells.” Brian Johnson hits some high notes on this track, but the sound is all heavy metal rock. The guitars and drums are what keep the energy of the song moving. There is a really nice guitar solo on this track. “Shoot to Thrill” has a sped-up rock sound that works. For some reason, this track sounds like sped-up country music to me. Does anyone else think that? “What Do You Do for Money Honey” has more of a rock anthem sound. Johnson really wails on this track. The track “Given the Dog a Bone” sounds like a more intense version of a Led Zeppelin song. Johnson’s vocals are nearly as intense as those of Robert Plant. There is a really impressive guitar solo on the track “Let Me Put My Love Into You.” There also seem to be a lot of double entendres on this track.

The title track features some incredibly distinct guitar riffs. There are some impressive guitar solos on this track as well. Angus Young is definitely one of the best rock guitarists ever. I like this track, but my favorite track on the album is “You Shook Me All Night Long.” This track never lets up from the moment the drumbeat drops. Johnson has a lower vocal tone throughout this track, which I prefer. This is one song that is guaranteed to get me up and moving at a wedding reception. Or really anywhere. The opening instrumentation of “Have a Drink on Me” sounds like a country song. The guitar on “Shake a Leg” also has a country rhythm. It sounds like something by Shania Twain, which actually makes sense because her husband produced this album. There is a really fast guitar solo that sounds like a sped-up blues guitar solo in the middle of this track. The closing track “Rock and Roll Ain’t Noise Pollution” has an elevated, yet controlled rock sound. The rock instrumentation has a slight blues vibe to it.

Rating: 8.5/10

How I Listened: Spotify

Takeaway: I like this album a lot. I had no idea that Brian Johnson was not the original lead singer for AC/DC. It seems it didn’t take too long to find and hire him. Let’s be honest, most anyone could sing the guitar riffs of the Youngs and sound good. Well, maybe not Roseanne. As one critic described, Johnson “sings like there’s a cattle prod at his scrotum,” which I believe is accurate and part of reason they have such a distinct sound.

#rs500albums #nowspinning #nowstreaming

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memphisinfo · 4 years ago

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Record Music at a Recording Studio

Memphis TN is a great music town in south-west Tennessee, known for the prominent strains of blues, gospel, rock and roll and R&B that originated here. Elvis Presley, R&B diva B.B. King, B.B. 's daughter Kimberly, Johnny Cash, and numerous other great music legends recorded records at the famed Sun Studios, which is now a popular tourist attraction.

Elvis Presley recorded some of his most popular hits here including "Hound Dog"Mystery Train." Other popular music attractions include the famous Rock 'N' Soul museum, the Blues Hall of Fame and the Stax Museum of African-American Music, founded by R&B singer-songwriter Sidney Bechet. Other music institutions also exist including the Memphis Recording Studios Museum & Archives, The Nashville Sound Conservatory and the National Music Hall.

Located right on the banks of the Mississippi River, Memphis TN is a vibrant metropolitan region. It is home to a thriving music scene, including top R&B artists like Aretha Franklin and Akon.

In the past twenty years, there has been a dramatic increase in the amount of new music production studios being built in and around Memphis TN. As well as new recording studios, many major music recording studios have also opened up in and around Memphis. As a result, Memphis TN has rapidly become a premier recording location for many music artists.

The state of Tennessee is also one of the most fertile ground markets for musicians looking to record their music. With a number of recording studios opening up every day, more local artists have been able to come out on the scene and create a strong presence in Memphis TN.

While it is not necessary to be a highly trained musician to start your own music studio, it is definitely beneficial. In addition to offering you a work experience that will benefit you in your future endeavors in music, working in a recording studio can give you the opportunity to create a wide variety of unique recordings. as well as the chance to gain invaluable contacts and connections that you can take with potential clients and record labels in the future.

You can obtain information about the various types of recording studios that are available in and around Memphis TN by searching the internet. You will be able to obtain valuable information about studios located throughout the US and also learn about the different equipment, software and production tools that can be used to create quality recordings. This is an excellent way to familiarise yourself with the different studios and the services that are offered.

In addition, there is a plethora of information on how to record music in a recording studio available online, including how to set up equipment such as microphones and speakers, microphones and preamp units, how to record audio, studio cleaning and other equipment, mixing, mastering, mixing and much more. There are also sites that explain step by step how to handle sound and how to master different recordings, providing complete guides to recording studios. With so much information available, you should have no trouble creating a wonderful music recording studio of your very own.

Recording studios are also a good place to find talented musicians to perform in. Whether you need a singer, a guitarist, a pianist, an engineer, a keyboard player, a vocalist, a drummer, a percussionist, or a recording engineer, the amount of talented people that are available is astounding. With so many different options available to you, there is certainly nothing wrong with finding the talent you need.

As well, if you need a band to play at your birthday party, wedding, or any other special event, you will find a great place to find a great band to hire in the area of music production studios. You should be able to find many professionals that will provide you with excellent music at reasonable rates to create the perfect atmosphere.

There are many professionals that can provide you with top-notch technical skills when it comes to producing high-quality music, whether you are looking for a band to play for a local band, or if you are looking for a music producer to produce a CD, album or other form of music production. Memphis TN has a number of recording studios that will provide you with the equipment, software and technology that you need to create high-quality recordings.

There is a large market for professionals who can help you in your efforts to create quality music, whether it is music for an individual or a band. Memphis TN offers a great environment to record and produce music that has the ability to make a statement and reach a huge audience.

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howaminotinthestrokesyet · 4 years ago

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No Stones Unturned: Bobby Keys and Darryl Jones

Bobby Keys

Saxophonist Keys played on several Rolling Stones albums, with his most notable contribution being the solo on the song, “Brown Sugar.” He first met the band in 1964 at the Texas State Teen Fair, where he was performing with Bobby Vee’s band. He became very close friends with Keith Richards. They both shared the same birthday. On tour, Keys helped the guitarist pick up a television on the 10th floor of the Intercontinental Hotel in order to throw it out the window. This was first seen from released footage of the concert film, Cocksucker Blues in 1972. The saxophonist had reconnected with the band in 1969 through a mutual friend, Gram Parsons. He made his debut on the song “Live With Me” on the Let It Bleed album. He also played on songs such as “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking,” “Sweet Virginia,” and “Rip This Joint.”

Keys also became very good friends with Mick Jagger. He would serve as best man at his wedding in 1972, while touring with the band until early 1973 when his relationship with the band abruptly ended. As the story goes, he filled an entire bathtub with Dom Perignon Champagne, then proceeded to drink most of it. The cost of it far exceeded his salary for the tour at the time. Jagger was furious. Although, the saxophonist would claim later in his autobiography that he left the tour of his own accord to get help for his heroin addiction. Due to the tense relationship with Jagger, he only played sparingly on their tours for the next 10 years. He was reinstated as the full-time saxophone player for the band in 1982.

Before touring with the Rolling Stones, Keys performed with other high profile musicians. Most notably, he played with Delaney and Bonnie in 1969, which featured Eric Clapton and George Harrison. He then supported Clapton on his first solo album, followed by a tour with Leon Russell supporting Joe Cocker in 1970. He also worked on George Harrison’s All Things Must Pass, John Lennon’s Lost Weekend, and his album Walls. Keys played saxophone for the number one hit “Whatever Gets You Through the Night.” He supposedly played on the last known recording between Paul McCartney and John Lennon, but the musician does not remember anything about it.

In 1979, he joined a Rolling Stones spinoff band with Ron Wood and Keith Richards called the New Barbarians. The short-lived band would play 20 tour dates that year. 10 years later in 1989, he was hired to run the music at Ron Wood’s new club in Miami named Woody’s on the Beach. In the first week alone, Jerry Lee Lewis, Fats Domino, And the Crickets all performed there. Around that same time, Keys joined a band made up of former Stones contributors Mick Taylor, Nicky Hopkins, and Stephen Stills of Crosby Stills and Nash. The band was called Tumbling Dice.

Bobby Keys would pass away at the age of 71 in 2014 from liver cancer in Tennesee. He was survived by his wife and children. Although known as one of the most talented session musicians around for years, Keys did release two solo albums in the 1970’s. The first one released in 1972 featured contributions from Eric Clapton, George Harrison, and Ringo Starr. The second one released in 1975 entitled Gimme the Key was released on Ringo Starr‘s record label. Until his death, the saxophonist continued to perform on every Rolling Stones tour.

Darryl Jones

In 1993, Jones joined the band as a touring member replacing Bill Wyman who had left the band after 30 years. He even played on the studio albums that the band has occasionally released since that time. The main question with him is always whether or not Jones will ever become a full member of the band. The other band members like Keith Richards have consistently dodged this question whenever asked about it. The guitarist said in an interview that as far as he is concerned, if you are up there on stage with us, then you are a member of the Rolling Stones. The bassist has always said in interviews that it would be wonderful to become a full member, but that is not his decision to make. I would guess as members of the band are almost in their 80’s that it probably is not going to happen.

Not many people know too much about Jones as he does prefer to stay in the background, rather than being upfront and center. He was born in Chicago in 1961, and his roots there probably helped when he auditioned with the band since Chicago holds such a dear place in the Rolling Stones story. After playing locally as a young man, he was able to join jazz legend Miles Davis‘s band in 1983. His mutual friend was actually the jazz great’s nephew.The bassist does have more of a jazz background, but that did not really hurt him in The Rolling Stones audition. He bonded with Charlie Watts over his jazz roots, which probably got him the job.

Jones has collaborated and toured with a wide variety of artists over the years. The first most prominent one came before the Rolling Stones gig with Sting’s first solo band. Other artists included Patti LaBelle, Eric Clapton, Joe Cocker, BB King, Rod Stewart, Neil Young. He has also done a number of side projects with other lesser known artists in bands like the Stone Raiders, Three Brave Souls, and Chitown Social Club.

One thing that has never come up in this question over membership emerges with race. Jones never appears in any promotional photos for the band, but Ron Wood gained for membership status after the same number of years. The irony being that Jones is the only black member of the band, while the group started as a blues band originally. He has appeared in select music videos for the band. Yet, I think the rest of the members just decided that there was going to be no new members after so many years. Keith Richards has said previously that Jones is his brother on stage who he loves to musically spar with. As long as it does not bother Jones, then there should be no issues. I think he feels honored to be allowed to tour with the band, which I would say the same thing too.

As a child, Jones actually was first taught the drums. His father was a professional drummer, who taught him to play the instrument, along with the xylophone. He switched to the bass after seeing another student playing the instrument at a school talent show. After completing the music program at Chicago Vocational High School at age 17, the future Rolling Stones bassist began playing everywhere he could on the local scene before attending Southern Illinois University. One must also note that he was one year old when the band started.

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evans-heaven · 7 years ago

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“Hey, legend,”~s.m.

Not What I Can’t Have part three, I knowww but y’all will get that soon, don’t worry! I gotta make it perfect first <3.

For now enjoy idkhowmanywords of fluff. Hope y’all enjoy :)

~~~~~~~~~~~

“What next?” I murmured, staring at the illuminated screen of my laptop, at the page half filled with pure mumbo-jumbo.

How about I put....no.

Oh! What about.....God no.

I slammed my laptop shut, groaning. Having my fingers hover over the keyboard while my brain conjured up and immediately denied the next sentence I would write always drove me over the edge. Being a writer was my dream, yes. But I never imagined that it would cause me so much frustration and anger.

I sighed deeply, picked the laptop up, and walked over to the desk opposite my king sized bed. As I set it down, I heard the tiniest of ‘meows’ come from behind me, and I smiled. I turned to face the door, and, sure enough, my orange Tabby Cat, Jimi, stood there, staring at me with jade green feline eyes, head tilted, ears pointed, face angry as always.

“I’m okay, Jim. Just...fed up,” I shrugged, walking back over to the bed and crawling back on top of it. I patted the empty spot next to me, and he jumped onto it eagerly. He curled his fluffy, twenty pound body into a tight ball and closed his eyes, setting himself up for one of his many deep slumbers. I sometimes looked at him and felt envious.. If only I could sleep as much as he did. My career, unfortunately, did not make life so easy.

I only ever let Jimi on the bed when my husband Shawn wasn’t home. And tonight was one of those occasions.

I wasn’t mad about it- I had grown used to his absence. It did, however, make his homecomings more anticipated. Holding each other in a tight embrace for however long the universe would allow us would always be the highlight of my year each time he came home from 8 month tours. We had been together for 5 years, married for 1, and yet still, looking at him always reminded how in love I was with him, and never failed to make me fall even deeper.

Tonight, he was at the VMAs in Los Angeles, where he was nominated and performing. The show was immediately after the end of the NA leg of his tour, so he had to fly to Los Angeles instead of coming straight home.

Normally, I’d be right by his side at award shows, always being the loudest in the audience and the first to stand when he won an award, but duty held me back. I was extremely backed up on work from my job at Seventeen magazine. Of course, Shawn was one of my top priorities, but that night, my job mattered way more.

I might have been his self proclaimed good luck charm, and he didn’t miss a beat calling me this morning freaking out about his performance, saying that he would totally screw up and embarrass himself in front of tens of thousands of people (though I knew his only concern was Ed Sheeran) because I wasn’t there, but I had to put work first. I was a senior editor for a reason.

However, this senior editor was half a typo away from shooting her laptop with 9mm Glock and quitting her job.

Goddamn, I’m missing the VMAs to struggle with my so called profession? Why was I even hired? I thought. I should have just been a trophy wife. All they had to worry about was which dress to wear for which event and which arm to link with her husband on the red carpet of some frivolous event. The simple life, it seemed.

I looked at Jimi, he was fast asleep. Jimi. So named after Jimi Hendrix, legendary guitarist and one of Shawn’s idols. It was a final decision between that and Tori (short for Toronto). In the end we went with the obviously less tacky and Canadian choice. He still barely responded to his given name, but it was already engraved in his collar and there was no going back after shit was set in stone. Or in this case, stainless steel.

He was basically the only company I had in this huge condo in downtown Toronto when Shawn was gone, but I didn’t mind too much. He may have slept 90% of the day, but he was still there with me. And company that was lazy, uncooperative, and the cat equivalent of sleeping beauty was better than no company at all.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by the buzzing of my phone on the bedside table. I stretched my arm over and picked it up. It was a text from Shawn.

You like?

Attached was a photo of him, black and white, sitting on a couch most likely backstage at the VMAs, staring intensely at the camera. His navy blue suit coat was missing, and the sleeves of his shirt, originally blue and white, were rolled to his elbows. His hand was at his chest with his thumb tucked into his shirt.

I bit my lip and held back a heavy sigh, as though not to wake Jimi up. Again, 5 years together, and things like this didn’t fail to bring me to my knees in awe. My husband was beautiful. I wasn’t being shallow. I was stating facts.

My thumbs flew across the screen as I replied to his text.

Is that even a question? You greek god, you ;)

Not even a second later, his reply came up.

I’m calling you. I miss your voice.

Sure enough, right after his text came, his name came up on the screen of my phone, indicating an incoming call. I wasted no time accepting it and pressing the device to my ear.

“Hey, legend,” I mumbled, smiling lightly.

“Hi, darling,” he whispered. I had heard the phrase so many times, Whether it was when he would come home from the studio and follow it with a hearty kiss, or if he was simply coming up behind me while we made dinner together and I was at the chopping board, he always let those words slip past his mouth and I always let them make my insides melt. His throaty voice and the way each syllable would role off his tongue turned my insides into pure liquid.

“Why is it that I can be so deprived of your voice even though I heard it only this morning?” he chuckled. He was all I heard. There was no background noise. i wondered where he was. Clearly not backstage, other wise I wouldn’t have been able to hear a word he was saying.

“I guess I have than affect on you, huh?” I teased. He could be a cheeky little shit sometimes as well, but I took the cake. I knew how to get under his skin (and use it to my advantage) when the time felt right.

I could almost feel his smirk from the other line. “Of course you do, darling. You know my desperate love for you reaches great lengths. It could put the great wall of China out of business,” he said smugly, and for a moment, I wondered if I was talking to my husband or a Tumblr poet. But then I remembered he could be a mix of both sometimes.

“Whatever, Mendes,” I rolled my eyes and dismissed his comment. I tried my best not to feel his imaginary ego sometimes.It only made it grow, which always made me laugh.

“What are you up to?” he asked.

“Laying on the bed, talking to you, wishing I didn’t choose to be a writer,” I lamented, squeezing my eyes shut.

“Y/N,” Shawn warned, and I winced. He hated it when I talked badly about my job. He always reminded why I was hired and that I shouldn’t doubt my ability or my bosses for hiring me. “How many times have I told you that one or two slip ups is completely normal?” he questioned.

“Says you,” I scoffed. “You slip up in front of millions of people and everyone thinks its adorable. I do it in front of an entire board room and I feel my degree in Journalism being torn to shreds,” I said.

“Adorable?” he laughed. “Hardly,” he said. “Are you taking a break?”

“Yeah, obviously,”

“Good. Don’t worry, darling, you’ll bounce back up in the morning. Whatever you’re writing will hands down be the best thing to ever grace the pages of Seventeen, I know it,”

I narrowed my eyes. “You always say that,”

“And I always mean it,”

I smiled. I knew he did. He always would. “So, are you nervous?” I asked, toying with my wedding ring- my birthstone, pear shaped. It left a permanent imprint on my finger, for I never took it off unless I absolutely had to. I felt naked without it. It had basically become a new body part.

“Eh,” he said. “I guess so. I’m kind of like a see saw right now. I’m either nervous as fuck and ready to back the hell out of this, or so confident I practically feel like God. Its fluctuating,” he explained, and I nodded as if he could see me.

“Makes sense,” I said. “Don’t worry, rockstar, you’re gonna kill it, I have full faith in you,” I said warmly. Just because I couldn’t be with him didn’t mean I couldn’t send some positive vibes, even if they were received from 4,052 kilometers away.

“Thank you, darling. I still wish you could be here with me. It doesn’t feel the same without you, knowing that this is the first VMAs you’re missing since we started dating,” he sighed. I could picture him, if he was sitting, either toying with the collar of his shirt or bobbing his leg up and down. Right or left?

“Work held me back, Shawn. You know I wish I could be there with you,” I told him.

“I know, baby. But, good luck charm or no good luck charm, talking with you right now is the only confidence boost I need,” he said. “Your voice is like a steroid shot or something, and I mean that in the best way possible,”

My face heated at his quirky, funny, yet so, so endearing comment. “God, if only you knew how badly I wanted to crawl through this phone and tackle you to the ground with kisses,” I groaned, throwing my head back.

Shawn’s POV

“Oh really?” I laughed. “How badly, darling?” I asked, standing up from the leather couch in my personal dressing room. I began to pace the length of the space, my eyes drifting up to the outfit I was to wear on stage that hung on a rack. It was nothing fancy, just a gray shirt with my basic black jeans and boots. I didn’t believe in going over the top with things like that unless it had to do with the musical aspect of the performance. I didn’t have to look like I raided Party City to put on a spectacular show.

She giggled on the other line. “When you get home and I shower you with as many kisses as my lips will allow, you’ll know how bad,” she said, and I was almost certain she winked.

“Then damn, I can’t wait to get home,” I concluded. She could have absolutely nothing waiting for me at home and it would still be anxiously anticipated. Her on a whole would be the only ‘welcome home’ gift I would require.

I loved this woman with my entire body, mind, and soul. She had my heart and I had hers. I dared anybody to try to take them away from us.

“How’s Jimi?” I asked. He was a bossy, orange devil, but I still cared about the little fucker, even if I was convinced he had it out to get me.

“He’s right here next to me, sleeping in your spot,” she answered, and I furrowed my brow.

“Baby, I thought I told you not to-”

“Well someone has to fill your spot!” she argued before I could finish.

I laughed. “God, a cat replaces me when I’m not home. Tragic and wrong,” I shook my head and chuckled.

“Then you better rush home and rectify said wrong, Mr Mendes,” she teased.

“Oh, trust me, I’m counting down the hours til I can, Mrs Mendes,” I smirked, sticking my free hand in my pocket.

“How many hours?” she asked softly. And then suddenly, I knew I had hit a nerve with my statement. We hadn’t seen each other in months. Talking about my return or her visits was bittersweet. They never lasted as long as we wanted.

“Baby,” I cooed. I wanted nothing more than to fold her in my embrace. But I couldn’t. “Its okay. Only 15 more hours until we get to see each other again. Only 15, nothing more,”

“How I wish it were less,” she laughed slightly, and that lifted my spirits. Hearing her sounds of joy, even if they were the smallest of noises, made me feel like I was about to enter the gates of heaven sometimes.

“I’m not father time, love. But I’ll race home to you as fast as I can as soon as the show is over,” I said. There was a knock on my door and Andrew’s head popped in. “One second, Y/N,” I said, and pressed the phone to my chest. “Is it almost time?”

“Yep,” he nodded. “Get dressed, you’re on in ten,”

I gave him a thumbs up and he closed the door. I put Y/N on speaker and walked over to my change of clothes, pulling them off the rack.

“I’m on soon, baby. I gotta hang up in a bit,” I said. 15 more hours.

“Oh,” she said, and there was most certainly a deep pout on her face. “Well rockstar, I guess this is it,” she exclaimed, perking up.

“This is it!” I repeated, chuckling. I pulled my dress shirt off the put the other one on, buttoning it up almost all the way before I removed my belt and dress pants, pulling the black jeans on. “Hey, darling?” I asked after my pants were zipped up.

“Yeah, babe?” she answered.

“You’ll be watching, right?” I clarified. I knew she would be, but what if at the last second she wouldn’t? Maybe she didn’t want to see her trainwreck of a husband totally fuck it up (in the terribly bad way) on the stage? Even through the TV she would feel the humiliation.

“No, Shawn, I won’t be watching at all. I’ll be too busy trying to teach Jimi to write an article for me,” she drawled sarcastically.

I groaned jokingly and stomped my foot after I laced up my boots. “Can you not joke for a second, love?” I laughed, taking her off speaker and bringing the phone back to my ear. I looked in the mirror and straightened my hair, combing he loose strands back from my forehead. Fresh haircuts never lasted long- my hair grew quick. My fans loved it. I was always led myself to think they love ‘the curls’ more than me.

“Alright, alright,” she sighed. “Shawn, you know I’ll always have my eyes on your performances, even in the most unreasonable, unrealistic of circumstances. I wouldn’t miss you for the world,” she said sincerely. I could picture the look in her glimmering eyes, the way they would twinkle in a manner only for me, only when she looked at me.

“You promise?” her reassurance was my saving grace at this point. My heart rammed against my chest like a caged beast wanting to escape incarceration. My palms were sweaty and my body trembled. The norm. The day this didn’t happen before any performance that I had, was the day I stopped being human. I craved this feeling to remind me that I cared, but at the same time, I dreaded it, because it brought on an onslaught of negative ‘what ifs’ that flooded my brain.

“I promise, Shawn. I’ll always promise to be there for you.Even if I’m not with you. I will always be there for you,” she said, and I knew she was nodding firmly.

My darling. I couldn’t picture life with out her anymore. She had become my everything.

“I love you so much,” I mused, feeling my throat clog up. The things she did to me. This wouldn’t be the first time her words brought me to tears. It wouldn’t be the last either.

“I love you too, big guy. Go out there and kill it!” she squealed.

I turned the doorknob and stepped out. My team stood outside the door, scrambling to get the equipment ready.

“Bye bye, darling. I’ll be picturing you out there,” I said.

She giggled that angel like giggle. “Bye, legend,” she said, and kissed the receiver before hanging up.

Legend. She always called me that. And she was one of the reasons I would work as hard as I possible could until i became one. One like her.

She was my legend.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hope y’all enjoyed :)

#shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes

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epacer · 6 years ago

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Back Story

The San Diego Years

Warren Wiebe, Class of 1971

While attending Crawford High School in San Diego, Warren shows a great interest in performing music. His first experience performing occurs in 1972 with the band Mankind, in which Warren plays bass, guitar and sings.

Warren at Crawford High School, San Diego early 70's

Warren joins many local bands between the 1960's and the 1980's. Emergency Exit is one of them. Guitar player Ed Cook and Warren originally start the band in the mid 1960's with another lead singer by the name of Dave Ballanger, but it doesn't take long to understand that the stage truly belongs to Warren. The final line up is Warren on bass and lead vocals, Ed Cook on lead guitar, Bram Peterson on rhythm guitar, Mike Thompson on keyboards (currently the keyboardist for Don Henley) and Tom Hankla on drums. The music play list is incredibly diverse, with the band playing everything from hard rock to funk, soul or blues. "Exit", as the band is known, has a tremendous following at the Infinity Disco, a very popular hangout for San Diego locals.

"Jake", as he is called by the family, is also hired in 1979 by country artist Bobbie Gentry to perform as bass player and vocalist in some of her shows in Las Vegas.

Warren also joins a top 40 band called Circles with guitar player Hank Easton. He plays bass and sing backup vocals since the band already have a lead female singer. Their music is varied, but leans toward the pop style.

Warren is a skilled and proficient rock bass player and plays a lot of trio gigs from rock & roll to jazz with guitar player (and Warren's best friend) Brian Price. They work at the Turquoise Lounge in San Diego for years - a rock & roll bar which is an immensely popular hangout at the time. Their trio, first called Status, later chooses the monniker 3D. This is one of the last bands where Warren pulls double-duty as bass player as well as vocalist.

Warren also works with Most Valuable Players (MVP) and Flight Seven. These bands are part of the late 80's San Diego pop jazz movement. MVP is led by guitarist David Ochs. The basic line up is David Ochs on guitar, Charlie Chadwick on bass (now in Nashville), Roger Friend on drums (a man of part Swedish heritage, who tours with Abba in the 70's and early 80's), Bill Cantos, who "subs" a few times on keyboards, and Warren on vocals. The band often works at "Fat City" restaurant near downtown San Diego and the "Catamaran Hotel Pacific" in Pacific Beach.

Flight Seven (originally New Shooz) is a very good pop jazz group featuring Larry de la Cruz on alto sax and additional keyboards, Barry Aiken on keyboards, Don Schonenberger on drums, Don Anderson on bass, Gabe Terrado on guitar, and Warren on vocals. Brian Price "subs" a few times as does David Ochs (from MVP), Mark Shapiro, Dave Hatherill and Jeff Scheneider. Warren is in the band during the New Shooz period for about 4 months, but leaves with Jeff Scheneider to form his own band called Street Corner Symphony, which is short lived. Flight Seven release an album entitled "Sky High" in late 1988 of mostly instrumentals which feature Warren's vocals on two of tracks. Flight Seven original singer is Sue Ferris who's in the band when they begin to work on the CD. Then comes Warren, and finally a singer named Rose Riedel. Warren is originally on five vocal songs but when he leaves, Rose Riedel re-record three cuts leaving Warren on two songs.

Warren also sings with The Bill Shreeve Sextet, with vocalist Cecily Johnson sharing the spotlight. Bill Shreeve is a local band leader that does casuals in San Diego (weddings and corporate functions) and he hires Warren and Cecily Johnson as his vocalists. Cecily and Warren become good friends, not only by singing together but because on those casuals there are often one or two instrumental "dinner" sets, and the two of them often find themselves hanging out talking before coming on stage.

The Bill Shreeve Sextet, (now known as Airplay), features Bill Shreeve on saxes and flute, Vince Cooper on guitar, Jay Jorgensen on bass (sometimes Pat Fitzpatrick), John Opferkuch on keyboards, Dave Blackburn on drums, and Cecily Johnson and Warren on vocals. The music is varied, but leans toward the pop jazz style; Metheny-type stuff during the dinner set, then plenty of R&B tunes for dancing.

Larry de la Cruz, Brian Price, Bill Cantos, and Dave Blackburn meet each other through studying at Jazzschool (1985-86) with Hal Crook who eventually goes back to Boston and becomes head of the Composition department at Berklee College of music.

In 1987 Warren records the song "How Long?" for songwriter and drummer Dave Blackburn.

On Valentine's Day in 1987, Warren is heard by David Foster and Burt Bacharach at The Bonaventure Hotel in Los Angeles. In June of that same year, Warren and Bill Cantos play in a duo at Ned Shankman's wedding (David Foster's attorney at the time) in Malibu, Los Angeles. Jay Graydon also attends Shankman's wedding and is absolutely amazed at the performance. Warren starts working with David, and Bill starts co-writing with Jay after that.

Within a few months of the wedding of Foster's attorney Ned Shankman's, Warren is performing with an 80-piece orchestra as the lead vocalist in David Foster's band and is performing throughout Canada.

Before leaving San Diego, Warren also performs solo under his own name at Humphrey's on Shelter Island, a popular concert venue for touring acts (on the outdoor stage) with an indoor bar area where local bands work. They lean towards pop jazz, which San Diego is obsessed with during the late 80's, and which Warren of course could do with no problem.

Warren also joins Georgetown Express, another casual band featuring SD's best musicians: musicians: Rob Whitlock on keyboards, Duncan Moore on drums, Kevin Hennessy on bass, John Rekevics on saxes, and Brian Price on guitar, with Amber Whitlock and Warren on vocals. The band’s still going strong, and even had a gig with Warren scheduled for the week after his passing. Their music is similar to Bill Shreeve's band, but the covers are probably as good or better than the original artists.

Beginning in 1989 Warren is featured as the anthem singer for the Los Angeles Kings at the Great Western Forum. After hockey legend Wayne Gretzky signs with the Los Angeles Kings, Warren regularly sings the classic tune "America the Beautiful" before their home games. Gretzky is a friend of David Foster, who helps to arrange Warren's appearances. Warren's rousing renditions are well received, and prove somewhat of a good luck charm for the Kings during the Gretzky era.

In 1989 Warren records the song "We’re Together" for composer/drummer Dave Blackburn at Studio West in San Diego, which features Bill Cantos on MIDI grand piano, and a string arrangement by Lars Clutterham.

In 1989 Warren performs a duet with Celine Dion for the movie "Listen To Me" whose OST is composed by David Foster.

By the late 80s, Warren’s voice also can be heard on many television and radio jingles. San Diego songwriter Steven Vaus has also worked with him quite a bit during the 12 years prior doing a lot of radio and television spots. Warren can also be found during this period working for companies such as Fox Music Productions in San Diego and for Saatchi & Saatchi Pacific Advertising.

In 1989 Warren records the songs "Say It Isn’t So” at The Studio in San Diego for local saxophonist Mark Lessman. The song features music by Mark Lessman, and by Jeff Bristol. Rob Whitlock plays keyboards. The tune is released on Lessman’s album "More or Less��, engineered by Mike Harris and mastered by the famous Bernie Grundman.

In 1989 Warren finally relocates to the Los Angeles area (Glendale) and starts to work with David Foster on many studio albums and live performances. He leaves the San Diego club circuit behind, but often returns to his hometown for casuals and session work. Warren makes no distinction in his mind between singing with Celine Dion, recording for David Foster, and playing weddings in San Diego. Warren carries this honest and humble trait with him all his life. *Reposted article from the website Welcome to Warren Wiebe. **See also the following ePacer post titled “Class Notes” it’s an abstract from the San Diego Union-Tribune, Obituaries of October 29, 1998.

Randy Burnett ,Warren Wiebe, Nathan East and Don Smith

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angrymakersalad-blog · 7 years ago

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iowamusicshowcase · 7 years ago

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Ep 45 - Song 6: "Sidetrack Lounge" by Bo Ramsey and The Backsliders "He made his debut in Williamsburg, Iowa in 1973, fronted the Mother Blues Band, and rose to prominence as a soloist when he opened for Lucinda Williams on her 1994 tour. He has produced or played guitar on several of her albums, including Essence, which was nominated for a Grammy Award, and appeared in her band in performances on The Late Show With David Letterman, The Tonight Show with Jay Leno, and Late Night With Conan O’Brien and in Wim Wenders’ "Soul Of A Man" segment for the Blues series of Martin Scorsese. He has also produced recordings for Joan Baez, Dave Zollo, Pieta Brown, Iris DeMent, Ani DiFranco, and Kevin Gordon, with whom he co-fronted a band, and worked as a guitarist with the above and with Elvis Costello. He has worked extensively with Greg Brown, including an appearance in 1999 on A Prairie Home Companion, and has been inducted to the Iowa Rock 'n Roll Hall of Fame, and Iowa Blues Hall of Fame." - from his Wikipedia page 'Born and raised in the blue-collar Mississippi River town of Burlington, Iowa in 1951, Robert Franklin ‘Bo’ Ramsey not only played a vital role in shaping Eastern Iowa’s distinctive blues-rock hybrid, but has continued in his still-vibrant career as a performer, much-in-demand producer, recording session guitarist and “hired gun” in touring bands of high-profile national acts. "Ramsey broke out in the early-’70s with the seminal Mother Blues Band, a honking powerhouse which also featured Iowa blues legends Joe Price and Patrick Hazell. In the latter part of the decade, the guitarist broke off to form Bo Ramsey & The Sliders. "Merging the sounds of his beloved Chess Records blues masters with Rolling Stones muscle and swampy, river basin funk, Ramsey & The Sliders enjoyed a strong following on the Midwest circuit for nearly a dozen years. "Following a brief hiatus in the late-’80s, Bo began a collaboration/friendship with revered folksinger Greg Brown that continues to the present... "He’s a fine, evocative and passionate writer in his own right, but his guitar magic is such that he keeps many, many songwriters lined up, waiting for his unmistakable six-string imprint. A long-promised project rounding up Bo’s inspirational nuggets drawn from the likes of Jimmy Reed, Howlin’ Wolf and Muddy Waters remains unfinished, but lurks in the near future. "Bottom line: this ol’ Iowa boy surely can rock it--always has, always will. For these reasons Bo Ramsey joins the elite Iowa Hall of Fame Class of 2005." - from his page on the Iowa Rock and Roll Hall of Fame website "THE YEAR IS 1973; THE PLACE is Williamsburg, Iowa. He steps out onto the stage, straps on his guitar and is greeted by a screaming crowd of … aunts, uncles, moms, dads, cousins, friends and, of course, the bride and groom. It’s a wedding dance. But at the end of it all, he leaves with more money in his pocket than he came with. This is Robert Franklin “Bo” Ramsey’s first gig, and he isn’t looking back... "Records blues masters to the Rolling Stones and the Beatles, Bo took the sounds he heard, blended them and re-tooled them until he had a sound that no other local player possessed. He worked with several bands during the ’70s and ’80s, but took a hiatus from music for a time during the ’80s to work a day job to pay the bills and support his family. The hiatus would be temporary. The ever-restless and always active Bo Ramsey was continually looking for a way to make his mark, and his living, doing what he loved best; making music. Always the visionary, Bo was driving one day and heard a song on the radio by Greg Brown, another native Iowan who’d made his mark in the music scene. After listening to the song, Bo realized that he could help take Greg’s music to the next level. He contacted Greg, a meeting took place, and a musical partnership was conceived that continues to this day." - from Nick Stika's article on the Premiere Guitars website "Bo Ramsey is one of music's unsung heroes -- and he doesn't care... "A genuine Midwest blues-rock legend, everyone predicts he'd be famous if he left Iowa's cornfields for Nashville's streets of gold... "Ramsey is flattered. But he doesn't really care. "'Fame is kind of a loaded word,' Ramsey admits. 'I don't think of playing music in those terms. I'm a firm believer in the music. I go where the music takes me and 99 percent of the time, I'm glad to be there.'... "'The music itself requires that. There are certain things I shut out because they don't play into the process of recording, performing, whatever. But I also leave the window open for spontaneity or certain things that might come in and affect the music or a song,' he explains. "'There are so many moments that are very satisfying. It can be a fleeting moment in a performance when everything seems to come together or it can be in the studio, when you get the sound you want.'... "'Playing live is essential. It's a gauge for me. I may wr…

#IFTTT #FacebookPages #Iowa #Iowa Music #Iowa Bands #Iowa Artists #Midwest #Midwest Music

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latest-news-trends-blog · 7 years ago

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How to Organize a Hawaiian Wedding Reception

One fashion that is becoming popular in wedding celebrations is for the couple to choose a theme for the ceremony and reception. A Hawaii Wedding evokes romantic images of beaches, sunsets, tropical flowers, luaus, leis and ukulele music. In fact, the word "luau" means "a feast". To effectively carry out a Hawaiian celebration, it is important to incorporate elements of this theme into all aspects of reception, from food to decoration. Use these tips to have a Hawaiian wedding reception.

Method Promotes Hawaiian clothing

Choose a traditional Hawaiian dress for the bride and groom. A Hawaiian bride traditionally wears a long white dress with a lei haku, or a hoop of Hawaiian flowers around her head. A Hawaiian boyfriend traditionally wears white pants and a white shirt with a girdle of a bright color around his waist. The groom also wears a green lei maile around his neck.

Select a Hawaiian costume for the party. It can be formal or informal, depending on the formality of the event. For a more formal event, select suits with light colored shirts for men, and silk cocktail dresses for women. For a semi-formal or casual event, choose linen trousers and Hawaiian t-shirts for men, and Hawaiian print dresses for women.

Ask your guests to wear Hawaiian clothing for the wedding reception. Hawaiian guest attire will help create the Hawaiian atmosphere at the front desk. Men can wear Hawaiian shirts, while women can dress in cotton or linen dresses with tropical prints. Method Get Laws for the party and your guests Give laws to all your guests. As the guests enter the Hawaii wedding and / or reception, they adorn each with a lei, which is a necklace made of fresh flowers. In Hawaii, laws are presented in celebrations as a symbol of appreciation, love and respect.

Select maile leis or kukui nut leis for men. If you're worried that men will not want to wear a necklace of fresh flowers, it offers maile leis, which look like green leaves, or kukui nut leis, which are kukui nuts on a string.

Consider the silk laws if you do not have a lot of budget. Although laws of fresh flowers are traditional in Hawaiian celebrations, silk leis flowers are less expensive and can be kept as wedding souvenirs. Method Give your guests Hawaiian tags for your name or place Stick to the Hawaiian theme with custom labels. With the help of a website, translate the names of the Hawaiian guests and print their names on the labels. Decorate with Hawaiian decorations

Use tiki torches to provide festive lighting for a wedding reception at night. Use tiki torches to hold floral arrangements for a daytime wedding. Remove the fuel container from the torch and fill it with fresh or silk flowers. Drape chiffon fabric between the torches to create corridors or section areas of the reception. Tie light fabric to tiki torches to create a decorative impact on the receiving space.

Uses Hawaiian table centers. As centerpieces are very visible, they are an ideal way to hold a Hawaii Wedding.

Decorate tables with pineapples and other tropical fruits. Put tropical fruits in large glass containers for easy and colorful centerpieces.

Create centerpieces of tropical flowers. Use fresh tropical flowers such as plumerias and orchids to create a fragrant and dramatic centerpiece. Add tropical green leaves to make them look fuller. If the fresh flowers are very expensive, consider the silk ones.

Decorate with Hawaiian figurines. Consider wearing Hawaiian couples figurines kissing for the cake or even figurines of hula dancers used in cars usually for centerpieces with personality.

Create coconut or bamboo centerpieces. For night luaus, put candles in coconut shells or bamboo stems to create table centers that also serve as lighting.

Decorate the tables of the food, the buffet and the bar. To serve macadamia nuts and other small items uses large sea shells instead of traditional deep dishes. Smaller shells or coconut shells can be used to store condiments or cutlery.

Wrap grass skirts around the edges of service tables to give a Hawaiian touch to the reception space. Choose Hawaiian music to create the atmosphere at the wedding reception. Hire a live band, a guitarist or someone who plays ukulele and specializes in Hawaiian music. If live music is not within your budget, put a Hawaiian music CD or Hawaiian music list from your computer.

Select traditional Hawaiian music for the wedding. Instead of hearing the Wedding March, let the Hawaiian Wedding Song be heard the moment the bride enters the reception.

Hire a hula dancer to teach you to dance to the guests at the reception. The hula dancers can teach the guests the basic movements of the hula, which will add elements of culture and recreation to the reception.

Presents a Hawaiian Wedding Cake

Create a Hawaiian wedding cake. A basic wedding cake can be easily transformed into a Hawaiian cake by adding fresh or silk flowers. If you prefer more traditional bride and groom figures for the paste, consider figurines of a Hawaiian couple. You can also ask for this in you Hawaii Wedding Packages.

Serves Hawaiian food and drinks

Provide traditional Hawaiian food for guests at the front desk. Consider elements for your menu such as teriyaki beef, kahlua pork, mochiko chicken, huli-huli chicken, mahi-mahi, laulau, lomi lomi salmon, poi and haupia. Includes Hawaiian tropical fruits such as fresh pineapple and papaya. The fruit can be cut into cubes and placed on skewers, combined as a fruit salad or even made a sauce to complement other menu items.

Hire a food service that specializes in Hawaiian food. Many services provide menus specifically for luaus that would be appropriate for receiving a Hawaiian wedding.

Offers traditional Hawaiian drinks. Mai tais and blue hawaiians are popular alcoholic beverages in the luaus. You can also offer non-alcoholic versions, or offer an alcohol-free fruit punch.

Includes Hawaiian language in the toast

Add a Hawaiian item to the toast at the front desk. Even those who are unfamiliar with Hawaiian language can incorporate a few words into their toast. Consider words like "ho'oheno," which means to love, "ho'olaule'a," which means a celebration, or "hau'oli," meaning joy. Visit this website if you want suggestion for the best Hawaii Wedding and Vow Renewals. https://www.iwanttomarryyou.org

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