#yesterday was the 1 year anniversary of losing my cat

[royalbstrd]

If I'm not around much the next couple days it is cause I'm currently trying not to cry at work because I'm bringing my big rottie mix boy up to work Friday to possibly get biopsies and I know he's a large dog and 12 years old but it still sucks and I really don't want to have to make the choice I know we'll end up discussing

[leemaht]

can i rq a break up au w/ futakuchi and 36 56 62 feelin angsty lately 😳😳

your wish is my command! i definitely didn't cry writing this, haha. wouldn't do that.

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the last chance you had

prompts: ‘you know that i love you, right? right?’; ‘stay away from me! i don’t want to see you!’; ‘i know what i said and i know i can’t take it back but i want you to know that i didn’t mean it.’

warnings: angst, toxic relationship, mention of sexual harassment/rape, swearing, mentally abusive

pairing: futakuchi kenji x reader

summary: this is a sad little story about futakuchi kenji, who doesn’t know how to express love and care until it is too late. or rather does not realize how much of a jerk he is until it is too late.

notes: this is a goddamn whole lot more dark and angsty than i intended, so enjoy with caution

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thursday. a normal day for futakuchi kenji, or so he thought.

wrong he was. it was the day he would lose the one and only love of his life. the person he thought he would spend the rest of his life with. the person he had imagined to marry and start a family with. you.

it was the day you finally gathered enough sadness, lonesomeness and unhappiness for the barrel to run over. it wasn’t like you didn’t love him. your love was never the issue. there were several reasons leading you to this breaking point.

1. futakuchi kenji made you believe he didn’t care about you.

he forgot important events easily. he forgot about your first anniversary and even after you reminded and presented him your thoughtful gift you had spent so much time and money on, he shrugged it off and told you it wasn’t a big deal.

he forgot about your birthday, he didn’t even congratulate you like every other of your friends did. all his teammates knew about your birthday and remembered him, most of them had congratulated you themselves. but your boyfriend decided to text you the word ‘congrats’ at 11 pm.

and it was true. futakuchi didn’t care about all this ‘minor stuff’, all he cared for was you so he thought that was enough. but you didn’t get that idea. for you it was just hurtful.

2. futakuchi kenji made you feel alone.

he forgot about you in general, you thought. it happened more than once that you were scheduling a date and he left you hanging. it happened more than once that he left you waiting for hours, alone at a shady location without answering one of your many calls and text messages, sometimes even in the rain and wind. one time at school he had asked you to come to the park this evening and even though it was a normal week day, you had agreed. you arrived at 8 pm as settled, waiting on a park bench for your boyfriends arrival, but he never came.

after about two hours a text message from him came in.

‘do you want me to come over now?’ it said, as if he didn’t even know what he had done.

‘leave me alone.’ you texted back hoping to animate him to ask you what was the matter but he left you on read.

you made your way home, locked the door and cried the whole night after being cat called at least 7 times on your way back in the dark night. futakuchi didn’t write you for the next few days, making you feel even more abandoned then before. he took your ‘leave me alone’ literally and intended to give you room to breathe because he honestly forgot about his request of meeting you. he assumed you had a private problem and didn’t want to barge in. after becoming the new captain of the team his life got a lot more busy, so he forgot about the little things. he was a very forgetful person to begin with but it got worse since then.

3. futakuchi kenji made you feel ashamed.

he couldn’t keep secrets. there you were entrusting him with some of the most important secrets of your life and the told them to others without a second thought and with a smile on his face.

the time you got a bad mark on one of your tests you had learned for so long. you asked him not to mention it to your parents when he would visit you this afternoon, because you wanted to tell them yourself. and he agreed. only five minutes later he bragged to your parents how his mark was so much better than yours, to which your parents sent him home and gave you a lecture about why you would keep secrets from them.

when you texted him about this he thought it was funny how you got so angry at minor inconveniences and made fun of you. he intended this to be his apology and brighten up your mood but when you didn’t text him back he let you be.

the time one of your grandparents died and you asked him not to tell anybody, because you only wanted your friends to know. this day you came too late to class but when you entered everybody, including the teacher gave you a pitying look. that’s when you knew he had told all of your classmates even though you told him not to. you cried silent tears of disappointment but everybody assumed they were because of sadness and tried to comfort you. you hated this kind of pity and attention and left, crying even more than before.

but futakuchi didn’t follow you but left you space. he was the kind of guy who thought space and silence could fix everything.

the time you did something embarrassing and asked him not to tell anybody but when you went to the gym to give him his bag he had forgotten in the classroom you clearly heard him tell his whole team the story. you dropped the bag so loud it made him look at you, turned around and ran away crying. he didn’t follow you though. you know, ‘space’. you earned a lot of empathy of aone and the rest though as they realized you suffered as much from futakuchi as they did. maybe even worse.

4. futakuchi kenji made you feel unimportant.

he always put you in fourth place. his first place was volleyball, his second place was his family, his third place was his school work and in fourth and last place was you.

he cancelled important meetings with you for stuff like ‘my mom wanted me to buy flour. she said it was alright if i did it tomorrow, but i want to do it now.’ he ditched you for lunch because he rather ate and discussed with his teammates. the cancelled dates because he met up with his teammates. when you asked to study together for a test, he refused because you only ‘slowed him down’.

5. futakuchi kenji made you feel unloved.

all this facts put together and also even though you were dating for over one and a half year now and you had said it so many times, he had never before told you that he loved you, made you feel this way.

the first time you said it was 7 months into the relationship. he answered with ‘thank you.’ you assumed it was too soon for him and left it, but the more you said it the more he dodged.

‘i love you’ ‘right.’ or ‘ok’ or ‘i know’

you honestly couldn’t remember a single week in the last 6 month in which you didn’t at least cry 3 times because of him.

thursday

one day after the worst day of your life. you had talked things out though, for now at least.

after all the fights and break downs you had,you decided to give your boyfriend one last chance and promised yourself, if he blew this up you would end all this suffering and break up. you wanted to be happy again, something you hadn’t been for a while or at least not with futakuchi.

you wore your most cheery smile and pick him up after practice, but events took a bad turn.

after practice had ended you greeted your boyfriend with a big smile and sweet words, which he didn’t return of course. he just nodded in your direction and gave you a quick peck and disappeared in the changing rooms. koganegawa was the first one to leave the changing room. he was also the one bringing doom.

as he walked past you you attempted to greet him as usual, but he wasn’t as cheery as you were used to. rather he looked at you a little suspicious. after asking him what was the matter he answered.

‘captain was in a bad mood today.’ he said gloomily

‘hm, why was that? he seemed normal to me.’

‘well, he said something about you screaming at him yesterday for no reason.’  by this time more people had left the changing room and stood by you.

‘that’s what he said? ‘for no reason’?’ kogane nodded. you looked down on the ground with a defeated smile as the tears started flowing. kogane tried to comfort you clueless and aone patted your back slowly as he guessed what was happening.

after about two minutes futakuchi stepped out of the changing room last, locked after him and walked towards your crying form.

‘hey what you crying about?’ he rather stated then asked, without the slightest hint of worry or empathy.

you clenched your fists at his reaction. ‘did you tell everyone i screamed at you for no reason yesterday?’ you asked though gritted teeth. kogane and aone were still standing behind you as a kind of moral support as both of them... all of them knew how futakuchi was.

‘huh, that’s what all this is about?’ he stated unimpressed. ‘yes, i did.’

‘do you seriously believe that?’ your anger grew more and more but you referred from shouting.

‘yeah.’ you only nodded absently. ‘then tell me the reason.’

‘are you telling me you forgot about all i said yesterday?’ he averted your gaze.

‘kogane.’ you spoke up. ‘did he tell you guys that the day before yesterday was our one and a half years anniversary?’

‘no’ he answered.

‘interesting. did he tell you that he forgot about it until i reminded him?’

‘no’ he answered again.

‘alright, did he tell you that he asked me to come out to the park yesterday, when it was already dark outside? and that he texted me again and again that he would be there in 5 minutes but never actually showed up and made me wait for 3 hours in the darkness and cold?’

‘no..’ kogane was shocked, so was the rest. but the story didn’t end there.

‘did he tell you guys, that on my way home two weird guys followed me, so i had to run? the funny thing is they also started running after me.’ you stated in sarcasm hiding your fear. ’did he tell you that they followed me until i was home and that they even knocked on my door, so that i had to wake up my parents? did he tell you that they actually broke a window trying to get in, so that we had to call the police who told us that those two guys were convicted criminals?’ by the time you reached this point of the story you were in tears. the whole team looked as if they were ready to throw punches at futakuchi. some of them hugged you or offered comforting words. they already did way more for you than futakuchi ever did in your whole 1 1/2 years.

‘did he tell you that when i told him, he made fun of me and said i shouldn’t act like such a pussy?’ you ended your story. truth is futakuchi had gone crazy after you told him all of that. he wanted to prank you by cancelling the date but would have never thought that this would take such dangerous turns. he hadn’t slept for a minute that night and paced around his house aimlessly. but he didn’t want you to know that and tried invalidate the situation a little bit. after you hadn’t answered anymore he assumed you had gone to bed already. aone grabbed futakuchi by the collar.

while the scene unfolded itself you spoke up.

‘futakuchi. i’m done. i can’t take all of this any longer. the worst part of this is that this wasn’t even the worst thing you ever did. but i can’t or don’t want to accept this any more.’

‘w-wait. what are you saying.’ he stuttered still in the grasp of aone.

‘i’m saying that this is over. i’m breaking up.’ with this you turned around and walked away, leaving the rest of the team in awe. aone let go of futakuchi and paced after you, offering to walk you home.

futakuchi screamed your name and tried to losen the grip of kamasaki who took aone’s spot to run after you but you screamed back.

‘stay away from me! i don’t want to see you! never again.’ as your tears started flooding again. aone put a protecting arm around you as you two walked out of reach.

friday

this day futakuchi arrived at school with a black eye. [kamasaki lost his temper] and you ignored him all day. but this afternoon there was a knock on your door.

it was him.

‘y/n, please open up. we need to talk.’ he sounded desperate. you opened it a slit. ‘i have talked so many times,i’m done with it.’ you wanted to close the door again but he put a hand against it.

‘you know that i love you, right? right?’ he was now in tears.

‘you sure didn’t act like it.’ you deadpanned hoping to overtone the emptiness and sadness you were feeling inside. futakuchi broke, not knowing what you meant. in his eyes he had tried his best in showing you his feelings and knowing that you didn’t think the same made him furious. but before he could even say another word, you already closed the door and left him, like he did so many times. he reflected.

reflected on his behavior just now and yesterday and always and knew he had fucked up.

you received one last text message from him this day, saying:

‘ i know what i said and i know i can’t take it back but i want you to know that i didn’t mean it. and what i did. i know i am a horrible person. please. please, tell me you forgive me.’

you texted back:

‘i was breaking because of you. i have endured all of this long enough and yesterday i decided to give you one last chance and you blew it up. i think i deserve to be happy, but i cannot with you. i can’t forgive you for all the things you did to me. you made me a broken mess. also, if you hadn’t meant it you wouldn’t have said it in the first place.’

you pressed ‘send’ and waited for the signal that he had read it. when you saw that he started typing, you blocked his number and put your phone down.

this night you didn’t cry because of him, but because you knew everything would be alright from now.

[fuck-customers]

(TW Suicide mention) This is really long by the way. A few years ago I was working at JC 1¢ as a support team member- we change all the price signs and do stock and any other misc. tasks. Me and this one lady were really on top of the signing. All of other coworkers and supervisors always did things wrong no matter how much we taught them. My coworker had been there for a couple years, she always complimented me and told me how big of a help I was. Well, a few things- when I started working there they never gave me a nametag. They said something about how the nametags would be changed soon and they didn't want to spend money buying me a tag when they'd have to get me a new one soon. Ok, kind of annoying. They didn't even give me a generic nametag that shows that I work there. We didn't have a uniform so I always got customers asking "Do you work here?" and when higher ups visited they got mad at me and asked where my nametag was! Id asked them several times prior at this point when I'd get one. So they gave me some random person's nametag for that day.  Fast forward to almost a year later we had Inventory. Id never worked anywhere they did inventory before and everyone was in a panic and no one took the time to explain to me how it works and I tried to ask. The impression I was under is that we had to come to work one of the days no matter what- but apparently both days we weren't allowed to call off. Well my cat had an emergency at the time, a blood clot in his leg. In the end I had to put him down. I was so distraught I called off the day I thought I was allowed to call off, because I couldn't stop crying. He was very important to me, and it was like losing my grandfather all over again.  They decided to punish me for calling off that day, cutting all my hours. I was getting 4 a week, sometimes not being scheduled at all. The boss of the store (who was never there during any of my shifts) decided that it was my fault we were always behind on truck- not because he only gave us 6 hours to do it with three people, but because I was slowing us down. Not my coworker who chatted up cleaning lady all the time or the pregnant lady who couldn't lift heavy boxes and had to sit down every five minutes. My coworker that was always scrambling to hold things together was very upset at this because I was the only one who ever helped her and actually did my work. A year rolls around and I still don't have a nametag. During the morning meetings they always celebrate when someone's been there for a year, I have to sit through them cheering on everyone for their hard work. I could tell that JC 1¢ really valued their cashiers, we in the support team were almost never recognized. But they forgot my one week anniversary till almost two weeks later. And then they gave me my name tag. Through all of this I'd been getting so, so depressed. It was hard to come in to work at all, there were days I almost cried while I changed the price signs because my body was just so sad. I started imagining myself getting hit by a car on a daily basis. I started hurting myself. One night I snuck out to the highway and stood there waiting for a car to come by. I ended up chickening out. I quit working there a little after because I knew I couldn't keep it up anymore. Now I moved cities and I work at SmartPet, mostly as a cashier. It has its ups and downs but the difference is so amazing. I got my first annual review yesterday and got exceeds expectations on everything. The managers always tell me what a great help I am and how I'm the best at email capture and that they love the artwork I do on the boards. I almost cried yesterday because its so nice to be appreciated. It's so wonderful working there and I love all my coworkers and managers. I don't hate going to work every day. Plus I get to see all the puppers and kitties and everyone's pets all the time. Please don't ever stay at a job that doesn't appreciate you. I learned that the hard way.

[bekah-reading]

6/120 2023 Reading Challenge

5/5

I knew this book was about a woman whose parents died and now she is getting the house and possessions ready for sale/packing up but I didn’t expect for this book to hit hard. A lot of the scenes, esp the beginning bits, seemed to poke at places that never really healed up quite right for me. I know that next month is the anniversary of my Mother’s death and I had to put down my Mother’s cat yesterday, so this book certainly hit really close to home. So if you have experience any lose of a parent or anyone really I would advise to make sure you’re going to be okay while reading this. I went over a lot in my head being like 1 star- because it’s super good but damn the emotional trauma and crying was a lot. No 3 star- I should have expected this to be rough, but the book is amazing the book isn’t at fault for being really rough. BUT NOPE, I loved this book.

This book was one of my anticipated book releases for this year, and I am so glad I was able to grab it the day after release. I loved the writing. I really didn’t like Mark for like half of this book. Louise was okay. The puppets and dolls were super fucking creepy. I hated the Nativity scene. I knew this about a haunted house but the puppets/dolls were a surprise I don’t expect them going into this. This book took quite to finish but that’s because of me and how much this book just hurt.

[chocoluckchipz]

LadyNoir July - Day 1 and 4 (First impression and Clumsiness)

Relaxing after a long day of work on a roof they had agreed upon earlier, Chat Noir watched the stars with half-lidded eyes. The evening was calm, warm and just perfect for a little catnap, only a slight breeze gently blowing by, carrying the aroma from a nearby bakery with it. Chat yawned and closed his eyes, a tiny smile of satisfaction stretching his lips. His life was perfect and if not for his Lady promising to grace him with her presence soon, he would’ve inevitably dozed off a long time ago. But as it stood Chat needed to be alert… or at least awake in his case. Shortening the time by letting his thoughts wander back to their first meeting seemed like a perfect idea to help with that. This was, after all, their anniversary, anniversary of the day he’d met the love of his life.

“I see you are enjoying yourself,” Ladybug’s voice cut through his thoughts suddenly. When did she come? Why didn't he hear her footsteps? Did he doze off and not notice?

“Good evening, My Lady,” Chat greeted, sitting up and stretching.

“Evening, Chaton!” Ladybug replied with a smile on her face, not losing any time but walking closer and getting her hands into his hair, ruffling it lightly. “Ready for patrol, sleepy head?”

“Of course,” Chat Noir purred under her touch and smiled at the picture of grace and elegance. She was that picture for him despite his first impression of the spotted hero. Not that it was wrong because Ladybug could be very clumsy at times but now he saw that even in her less than impressive moments she always was as graceful as one could be. At that very moment, true to her nature, Ladybug stumbled on nothing and successfully landed in his arms. With grace and elegance. As always.

“I see you miss me terribly, My Lady.” Chat wiggled his eyebrows and chuckled, pulling her closer. “Can’t wait to get into my arms?”

“Maybe?” Ladybug replied, leaning in. Her lips touched his for a few moments in a sweet, lingering kiss before she pulled back and bopped his nose with her finger. “We have two hours before our babysitter has to go home so let’s not waste any time.”

“We aren’t wasting anything, my clumsy Princess,” Chat whispered and leaned back in to capture her lips anew. He had his Lady, his Marinette, his partner and his wife, the mother of his six-month-old daughter in his arms. Patrol could wait. It was their anniversary after all. It deserved at least a few extra kisses... in addition to everything else he prepared for her for after the patrol.

“Excuse me?” Ladybug leaned back slightly. “Do you have something against my clumsiness and me?”

“Nope,” Chat chuckled and pulled her back in. “I married both of you if you remember and I absolutely love you both too. In fact, my first impression of you, my Lady, was that of a clumsy girl but I found it adorable and stuck by your side, didn't I?”

“But it’s embarrassing,” Ladybug pouted. “I’m twenty-three years old, and I still trip on nothing-”

“Only to fall into my arms, my Lady,” Chat chuckled and planted another lingering kiss on her lips. “Race you to the Eiffel Tower? The last one does the dishes.”

“You know you’re gonna lose,” Ladybug smirked.

“Not if I get a headstart,” Chat chuckled and crashed his lips into hers again. After all, they both perfectly knew that even after six years together, a marriage and a baby, Marinette still felt dazzled when Adrien kissed her passionately. And with the way he was kissing her now, he should get at least good five minutes before she would be able to move. The race was as good as won, especially if her famous clumsiness would strike again. Because even as Marinette or Ladybug, she still tripped and stumbled after her husband shamelessly kissed her senseless.

“See you at the finish line,” Chat whispered and dashed off. Behind him, one love-struck Ladybug was fighting to stay on her feet straight. She was able to gather herself faster than usual, but it was still not enough to win the game.

“You shameless flirt!” Ladybug yelled, catching up to Chat at the top of the tower. “That was not fair, and you know it. I knew you were like that at first glance. Why did I stick by you?”

“‘Cause that’s not everything I am, My Lady,” Chat chuckled and wrapped his arms around his pouting partner. “Come on, Bugaboo, don’t be mad. You know I’m also kind and smart and extremely funny. May I add I’m gorgeous as well?”

“You stupid cat,” Ladybug pouted harder. “I want a divorce yesterday.”

“I love you too,” Chat purred into her ear, successfully evoking a tiny smile out of her. “I’ll finish patrol and do the dishes, Mari, don’t worry. You go home and rest before Emma wakes up again. Deal?”

“Thanks.” Ladybug whispered, pressing closer to his chest and closing her eyes. For everything he was, Adrien was extremely attuned to her feelings and physical condition, and he perfectly realized that handling a six-month-old baby and getting back into the workplace was beyond exhausting. He was here for her, and she loved him for that more with each passing day. “I’ll stick around for the patrol part, though, since today is the anniversary of the day I met a dorky punster-flirt who had become my best friend and is willing to take me the way I am, clumsiness and all.” Ladybug paused for just a second, placing a soft kiss to Chat’s chest and whispered. “I love you, Adrien. Thank you for everything.”

“Love you too, My Lady,” Chat Noir whispered back and pressed closer the treasure of his life to his chest. “Love you whole, clumsiness and all, Marinette.”

Buy Me a Ko-fi

[kamifingerpuppet]

Well me and my boyfriend are like cats and dogs but we like it and we are in love and do get along very well simple as that means so to me that we stay together but good or bad we are staying together forever they is no perfect relationship period it's good and bad all the time but my boyfriend and me had our relationship anniversary together of 1 year together and we got into it he said he was sorry for everything I forgave him of course its was a fake break up and I was really busy with my own life and thing I was going through myself and shit but I didn't care because I knew it was fake and nothing ralley to worry about but he over did it hurt my feelings and I was crying for a while yesterday but I got over it he doesn't like seeing me like that because he loves me very much but he need to cool it and shit he doesn't mean it when he gets like that and does that he doesn't that man loves me to death and doesn't want to anything with me so I put with it and eat it also I love him to because if you only knew motherfucker a little something we are keeping from a lot of shit but don't know about it nope not worth it and we need each other's and help and love we are lost without each other and got nothing and going to lose it but I say keep on working it out period good or bad and stay in a relationship period not being together is foolish heart and failure period gonna lose don't stay together long it last and keep putting up with it all we just miss each other and love each other and want the best for us and want these people off and out out of our relationship and lives because we don't know you and they crazy and shit mind they business and move on we don't like you and want nothing to do with it or you just creepy and stink but we don't let that stop us from being in a relationship and being together we do it for our kid that we are still trying to have we are frustrated and jello and selfish about each other and we like it we want more with each other's we have feelings for each other's and love each other not going to give each other's up but he need to stop feeding into them they boogers and stupid ridiculous things that nobody's gonna deal with it for real they will dumped on the sidewalk they are not gonna deal with it we need to be happy I am definitely going to keep putting up with him and his stuff and with him when we were young do you still care how stupid we will look at the past and say yes we did and still do and we want more and we don't know what to do except stay and work it out we do love each other and at this sense I was 14 years old back and forth with him its and complicated I told nothing and nobody in love with him that mucho and protecting him from a lot of things and people time difference and time can tell only but we will have everything we want have faith.

[poisoning-of-the-party-blog]

A FIVE YEAR LETTER - A RESPONSE TO MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE’S BREAK-UP

I woke up this morning still dreaming, or not fully aware of myself just yet. The sun poked through the windows, touching my face, dragging me from a dream world I wasn’t ready to leave. That tends to be my motive every morning. The dreams are better than my reality. I hope that someday, whether it’s tomorrow or 5 years from now, my reality is much better than my dreams. I’m willing to go the distance. I’m sure I’ll make it. Of course, my slumber was broken by the sound of chaos. Naturally, I panicked. Of course, I did. Loud noises tend to scare me. Or, should I say, loud noises that I didn’t plan nor expect scare me. The sound of dogs barking and my mother screaming. That scares me. The sound of a drum pounding, led by my movements. That doesn’t scare me. But the chaos of the morning ripped me from my half-sleep and caused me to get tangled in my blankets. Take Lucky out, feed the outside cat, do a list of unnecessary chores that my mother simply cannot do herself, or refuses to do herself. I don’t hold it against her. Two jobs, three jobs. Simply too much. But I would definitely prefer it if she used a calmer tone and was a kinder woman. Screaming obscenities at your children aren’t the way to go. I lean on the back door, staring into the outside world. Things looked to be about the same - a beautiful, but cold, day. Yesterday was the first day of spring and as a result, it snowed quite a bit. I hadn’t realized how much it was until I was left taking out the trash to the curb. Tomorrow is trash day. But my thoughts weren’t focusing on tomorrow. They were focusing on today. Today is March 22nd, 2018. 5 years ago today, My Chemical Romance had ended. It didn’t seem that long ago, but yet, it seems so far away. Was 2013 really five years ago? Have five years already passed? I can’t believe. My brain simply cannot wrap around it. I spend quite a lot of time on social media today. My time is spent mostly on Discord and Tumblr. I never thought those would be my chosen social media spots. I always saw myself as a Twitter or an Instagram person. But, alas, it seems lately my choice in social media has changed. I’m careful with it. Too much of it messes with my head. But I definitely enjoy it, I will admit. I find myself getting ready for work. Throwing on new boxers, questioning between ratty old jeans or a new pair of jeans. Straightening my hair in what seems like the first time in months. I treat myself today. I feel as if I deserve it. The walk to work is a quiet one. It gives me time to ponder. Most of the time, I find myself filling myself with sound. Some sort of sound. Somedays, it’s Green Day. Somedays, it’s Nirvana. Somedays, Blink-182. But today? Today is a day of silence. Maybe it’s because my phone’s headphone jack isn’t working anymore. Maybe it’s because I know I don’t need the sound. The walk to work is surprisingly peaceful. Why wouldn’t it be? That’s the perk of small-town life. It’s peaceful, for the most part. Here and there, we do have our little bumps and messes. I won’t lie, I live for those days. I love the excitement. I always love the hustle and bustle. Maybe, someday, I’ll move to a city where the hustle and bustle is every day. But my heart will always have a special spot for small-town life. Small town life can be a blessing and a curse. You don’t meet a lot of people and people tend to all be the same. If you don’t fit in, you’re cast out. But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible to make friends and connections. I have plenty. Which is a perk? Everyone knows everyone or is related to someone. I’m not a native, so the latter doesn’t apply to me. But still, I feel the lull. I can tell that’s a diesel truck driving by, just by the sound of the motor. This is my home, despite how out of place I may feel some days. It’s hard to find a place, but I found my place. 5 years ago, I found my place. I was young and frail. I was broken and alone. I was isolated and afraid. It’s not surprising. March 19th marked the 6 year anniversary of my father leaving. It’s still a sore pain. Sometimes, the wound is fresh. Sometimes, the wound is a scar. But it’s always there. Always throbbing. It’s one of those pains in which all you can do is put the headphones in and crank it up. When my depression set in, that’s when the isolation began. I became an iceberg. I burned my sketchbooks like every bridge to my island. I smashed the keys on my keyboard just as I smashed the key to every lock to my heart. I shut down. I cut off. I became violent and irrational. I became a ticking time bomb, ready to blow. As I type this, my chest feels tight. I feel numb. The tears well up. I am no longer a 17-year-old man, hardened by battles. I am a 12-year-old girl with arms sliced open with a bloody knife and bruises around her neck from another broken noose. I am no longer me. I am her again, blackish in colour again. With every bomb, there comes a point where it needs to explode. And when I exploded, it was ugly. It was days with a psychiatrist, in a doctor’s office instead of school, suicide watch, revoking and isolation. I was a failure. I was a mess. I was a runaway dragged home. With the healing process came latching. I needed someone to hold onto. Someone to lock myself on to. I clung to an old friend who had been there for so long. I feared to lose her. Kiya was the one who introduced me to this band. They were called My Chemical Romance. It was a sound I had never heard before. Scratch that, it was similar to what I had heard, Green Day and Shinedown. But it was different. The vocalist’s voice, he sounded familiar. But that was a memory I would realise down the road when the red-haired man on Yo Gabba Gabba! that I pointed to at age 10 saying I wanted to be like turned out to be none other than the man that saved my pathetic and worthless life. This was a new feeling. This was a feeling of salvation. It gave me a new-found confidence and new-found identity. Slowly and steadily, the healing process truly began, now with a soundtrack. It was okay to not be okay. It was okay to learn to be okay. I arrive at work to start my shift. I clock in, already tired before the chaos has begun. But this is a good chaos. This is running around, on my feet, taking orders, laughing with co-workers, getting messy. This was blaring music on the stereo, mixing in with the smell of freshly baked pizza, flour on my pants and in my hair. It was smiling at customers and living life. 5 years ago, I wouldn’t have dreamed of being here. That’s the thing, about time. Time changes. Everything changes with time. You grow older. You grow stronger. This will be my third summer here, marking the end of my second year here and the beginning of my third year here at Ison’s Family Pizza. I started about two months after I turned 15. I love it. I never thought my first job would be at a pizza place, a family restaurant when I can’t even spell “restaurant” without auto-correct. I also never would have thought I’d live to see my 17 birthday. But yet, in just a few days, I’ll be on a date on my 17th birthday with my beautiful girlfriend, Kiya. I would never have thought that I would be driving around town in a trashed ‘97 Buick, blaring The Used on some Bluetooth speaker connected to my cell phone, because my headphone jack doesn’t work and neither does the tape player in my car. I never thought I’d pick up music and art again. But here we are. After I returned from my depression-fueled hiatus on life, I learned a lot about myself. My name is Ryder. I’m 1/16 Native American. That’s why my brown eyes are the way they are and why I tan so well and never burn, despite being a pale ginger. I love to play piano and sing. I learnt to sing from years of music lessons, but I learnt to SING from Gerard Way. You can tell, by the way, I say my “R”’s and when you compare to how I sang before I quit. Though I’ll admit, I have a soft spot for the drums. I’m not the best, but I love it. I also love to draw. I’m not the best at that either, but I’m learning and growing. That’s the thing. Learning and growing. It comes with time. Everything comes with time. Just like recovery. My first piece on the piano, after returning from my hiatus, was “Welcome To The Black Parade”. I still can’t play it quite right. I’m still learning. But I’m still learning to be okay. I’m not okay at the moment. And that’s okay. It’s okay to be not okay. I learned that from a very special band. A band that became the soundtrack to my life. There was a time where I needed headphones. I needed to kick the headphones up loud until the world was silent and I was lost in the bass. Now, I can put the music on the speaker and make it simply a backtrack to my life. And now, I tune my own guitar and pluck out my own melodies, something that no one has heard before or thought of before. It’s been 5 years. Things have changed over the last five years. Thank you, My Chemical Romance. You’ve given me a great idea.

[recentnews18-blog]

New Post has been published on https://shovelnews.com/the-last-days-of-diarrhea-planet-a-band-thats-too-weird-to-live-but-too-rare-to-die/

The Last Days of Diarrhea Planet, A Band That's Too Weird to Live But Too Rare to Die

For three straight days last week, the symptoms of serious gastrointestinal upset arrived in a flash epidemic to the Midtown area of Nashville, infecting hundreds of people. To the untrained eye, it looked like a mysterious flu had sent 20-something punk kids into delirium: heavy sweating, aching bodies, sore throats, the occasional runny nose. But to the trained eye belonging to any doctor of shred, the sickness was as obvious as the antidote.

The city of Nashville had a serious case of diarrhea.

Playing sold-out shows on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday at the Exit/In, beloved local guitar heroes Diarrhea Planet had been the ones responsible for putting both natives and out-of-towners into this sudden feverish state. With their style of raucous performance—where the band crowd-surfed as much as the crowd, where pitch-perfect AC/DC covers were as much a guarantee as their own songs, and where even the most arms-crossed-and-clearly-over-it ticket holders became beaming kids again—no one left feeling the same as they had upon arriving. Diarrhea Planet shows induce an uninhibited madness, a madness for which the only remedy is more Diarrhea Planet.

Unfortunately, the antidote will soon be hard to come by. Though the band announced one final “victory lap” opening for Jason Isbell in October, the headlining shows on September 6th, 7th, and 8th served as Diarrhea Planet’s proper long goodbye. After thousands of gigs over the course of nearly a decade, the scatalogical punk six-piece announced in July that they’d be calling it quits.

It was the end of the planet as we know it, and no one felt fine.

The crowd at Diarrhea Planet’s last show. Photo by Wrenne Evans.

Bob Orrall suggested that this article be titled, “With the Demise of Diarrhea Planet, Is This Truly the End of Rock and Roll?” It was the Friday of the second-to-last show and we were in his office in the Wedgewood-Houston neighborhood of Nashville. Orrall runs Infinity Cat Recordings, which has put out every single Diarrhea Planet release, starting with 2009’s Aloha EP; from there, the band made two more EPs and three full-length records, the most recent of which, Turn to Gold, came out in 2016. He is both the spiritual and literal dad of the underground rock scene in Nashville—spiritual because of the bands signed to the label (DP, Daddy Issues, Music Band, White Reaper) and literal because his sons are Jake and Jamin Orrall, the two founding members of JEFF the Brotherhood. Technically the label is Jake and Jamin’s, but since the duo’s ascent early this decade, day-to-day responsibilities have fallen on dad.

“I think that people are always going to make loud noises with guitars, but [Diarrhea Planet] certainly were”—he stopped himself, remembering it wasn’t quite over yet—“are a great, great rock band. I’m 63 years old and they’re one of the greatest rock bands I ever saw.”

His favorite show of theirs took place in Chicago on his 35th wedding anniversary with his wife, where they both found themselves pressed against a barrier at the front of the stage, his wife telling him after the fact that Diarrhea Planet was the best band in the world. Uh, what about her sons’ band? “She told me they were going to have to step their game up.” Orrall’s favorite DP song is “Kids,” a scream-along anthem about the hard-to-capture innocence of youth. “The first time I heard it, I cried. What an incredible message.” For a brief moment as we talked, he teared up again. On Saturday, I saw Orrall screaming “we’re just kids!” a foot from the stage. Watching him, I cried a little, too.

Anyone will tell you that it’s not just the songs that get you—Diarrhea Planet’s live shows are infamous. Maybe it’s the onslaught of guitar harmonies—not one, not two, not even three, but four beautiful axes shredding in tandem—or the almost impossible energy that each member gives off until the very last second on stage, even when they’re only the opener. “Someone told me yesterday that they had seen one of the shows [when they opened for the Darkness]. DP had the place going crazy,” Orrall told me. When the Darkness took the stage, it was a different story. “They complained about the audience talking through [their] songs.”

From left to right: DP’s Mike Boyle, Emmett Miller, and Evan Bird during the last show. Photo by Wrenne Evans.

Or maybe it’s Diarrhea Planet’s fans that make them who they are. “If you read any article about DP, they talk about the crowd constantly because the crowd is our seventh man,” said guitarist and singer Jordan Smith during an emotional thank you speech Friday. He had just watched The Sixth Man, a 1997 film about a basketball team that gets a ghost as a ringer. Like Marlon Wayans playing alongside that ghost during the NCAA championship, Diarrhea Planet couldn’t have done what they did without the assist of their devoted fanbase.

At the top of that set, Smith had negged the audience. “Last night was a little bit like a Tame Impala show: a lot of people standing around and smelling their own farts.” It was time for the crowd to show up, which they did in immense proportions that night and the following. In the balcony, the bands’ parents, aunts, and uncles were exuberant: taking photos, singing along, buying rounds of PBR tallboys.

After having seen Diarrhea Planet play at least a dozen times myself, nothing compared to seeing them play their final hometown run, with not just a crowd of locals but kids who had come from all over the country. I spoke with fans who had come as far as Indiana, Georgia, New York, California. One Instagram I caught came with the caption, “22 hrs in Nashville with no bags and no hotel to see these goons play one last time.”

“It’s really hard to describe how I’ll continue my life without Diarrhea Planet, but these three shows really will hold a special place in my heart,” Michael Rivera, a 25-year-old cardiologist, told me. He first saw the band at Bonnaroo in 2014, where he said he heard the faint sound of electrifying guitar solos in the distance and turned to his friend to say, “I need to see this. I need to.” I watched Rivera, who has the same long, curly hair as Slash, completely lose it on Friday and Saturday nights, and by the end of Saturday night, he was up on stage with the band during their encore, screaming a song actually called “Ghost With a Boner.”

Which is another thing. It could be the humor in their songs that makes the band such a cult favorite—the juvenility can be a put-off to many, but it’s also the reason that others are drawn to them in the first place. “Ain’t a Sin to Win” is about challenging God to a motorcycle race; “White Girls (Student of the Blues, Pt. 1)” is a love song with the lyric, “I will always save the last slice just for you,” a reference to the Papa John’s that employed several of the guys over the years. “I don’t have one negative thing to say about them,” Laura Lee Volkerding, the manager of the store for 21 years, told me when I visited her. “They were very loyal. You couldn’t ask for better. They started to get much bigger and pretty soon they weren’t able to work as much, but I was so happy that they were able to do something they loved.” Volkerding still can’t say their name, though. “Diarrhea and the restaurant business don’t go together. I call them the DP Band to this day.”

Breaking up when they did felt natural, Smith told me Monday by phone. “It was a sprint from the start. We never really took time off and we never really slowed down. Most bands break up because they get mad at each other,” he said, which he affirmed wasn’t the case for DP. “Everyone was starting to get to know depression, not because of any specific turmoil, but because the lifestyle really ground us down. We just want to be happy and experience life in a normal way again.”

The finale of DP’s last show, in which fans crowded the stage; spot Michael Rivera upfront in the NHL jersey. Photo by Wrenne Evans.

Diarrhea Planet represented a different time, and not just the era of hair metal they sometimes drew from. The band came up in the early 2010s, long before Trump had been elected president, before we began to live in an age of disturbing parody that continues to eat itself. Now that they’d decided to break up, there was an element of “too weird to live, too rare to die” in their passing, for better or for worse. They were funny, ridiculous, and necessarily innocent of the world around them. To pull off the kind of music they made and the shows they put on, they kind of had to be.

I remember a woman guitarist I’d spoken to years ago who lamented the popularity of Diarrhea Planet, arguing that the last thing the world needed was a throwback to cock rock, which was considerably hostile to women. I had always seen Diarrhea Planet’s shows as a rejection of those ideals, like their deference to Marnie Stern’s guitar skills and their insistence on the pit being a safe space for all. “The whole point of DP was building culture,” Smith told me. “I think we made something really special with this community. It was just really cool to see that overall message of positivity and love manifest itself so intensely.”

The face of the DIY scene in Nashville had been changing for a while anyway, according to Olivia Scibelli, guitarist and vocalist for Idle Bloom (Friday’s opening act). Scibelli was a huge fan of Diarrhea Planet as both musicians and people, and she knew that they’d leave a hole in the scene when they retired. While male fans appeared to outnumber women roughly three to one at DP’s final shows, Scibelli acknowledged that something was in the air—a shift away from all-male bands with a predominantly male fan following. “I volunteer at the Southern Girls Rock Camp, and every year I see more and more young women and nonbinary kids wanting to start bands.”

In that moment, the focus was not on the rock scene to come but what everyone could enjoy right here, right now. Julia Martin, owner of an eponymous gallery in Nashville, told her friend Stephanie as DP’s set began that she was gearing up to head for the pit. “You might have to hold my purse.”

The sweaty close of the final show. Photo by Wrenne Evans.

Five hundred people were chanting “DIARRHEA PLANET! DIARRHEA PLANET! DIARRHEA PLANET!” at the highest possible volume. Nearing midnight on Saturday, the band left the stage after covering Rage Against the Machine’s “Bulls on Parade,” and they hardly even pretended that a blowout encore wasn’t coming. “There is literally no tomorrow for this and that’s the best you got?” a ghost voice announced over a microphone from backstage. The crowd began to sound legitimately desperate.

“This is really weird, it’s really surreal, it’s a really emotional thing,” Smith said after he bounced back on stage. “Thank you for keeping people safe in the chaos, thank you for creating an atmosphere of love and acceptance, thank you for enduring years of social strain for going to see a fucking band called Diarrhea Planet.” With that, they launched into a heartbreaking rendition of “Kids.” “I looked out and everybody was bawling, and half the dudes on stage were bawling, too,” Smith told me later. The experience itself felt like the pains of growing up and moving on.

They closed with “Ghost With a Boner,” one of the first songs they’d ever written. By the very end, the band and the crowd had sort of swapped positions: On stage, 50 to 60 fans crowded around the chaos, while Smith spent the song crowd-surfing around the room. He requested that those carrying him hoist his body up until he reached the venue doors. By the merch table, he looked like rock‘n’roll Superman.

“Maybe this sounds dumb because their name is Diarrhea Planet, but I just think that they’re a really inspirational band,” Ale Delgado, former lady of all trades at Infinity Cat, told me after the final show had ended. It was at 12:30 a.m. and she and her friend Michelle were standing in the center of the room looking shell shocked. “Yesterday, there was somebody about to crowd-surf and a guy turned to the girl next to her, who was much younger, and covered her head. They’re so good and the people they attract are so good. There’s none of that rock‘n’roll bullshit.”

Say it ain’t so. Photo by Wrenne Evans.

By last count on Sunday morning, I had seen one man cry, five say they were about to, at least 200 people with clothes so soaked through with sweat that they looked like they’d been caught in a biblical flood, one shirt with a well-endowed ghost drawn in Sharpie, and no fewer than 50 emotional embraces. I’d been shown one Diarrhea Planet tattoo, watched one woman stage dive with a broken foot, heard one guy ask a friend if his ear had fallen off, and been given one horrified look by a future bride out in a very different part of Nashville when asked if she was a fan of Diarrhea Planet. My favorite part of the entire weekend was looking back into the crowd as stage lights lit up fans’ faces: every single person was either singing or smiling, and most often, both.

As fans filtered back out into the humid city in the early hours of Sunday, the fever that Diarrhea Planet had caused finally broke—this time for the last time. Hundreds of people had screamed until they were hoarse. The aches of being tossed around in a pit or stage-diving into a sea of fists would subside by Monday, and persistent ear-ringing was sure to pass after a few days.

The only symptom that would remain after all was said and done was the one that was hardest to cure: heartbreak over the fact that a band that had really meant something to a lot of people had hung up their guitars for good.

Source: https://pitchfork.com/thepitch/the-last-days-of-diarrhea-planet-a-band-thats-too-weird-to-live-but-too-rare-to-die/

[ehshaapple]

Jan 2017

April 2017; you should see her now!

This post is not going to be about Witchcraft, Magic, Kindred building, Sorcery, Bad Witches, Stephen King, or even food or gardening.

Except that it is.[1]

This post is not going to relay to you all of the details about where my behind has been for the last two years and what I’ve done and who I’ve done it with (and without) and how this or that came to fruition or about the evolution of my relationship to The Ancestors and The Gods or about the answer to life, the universe, and everything.[2]

Except that it is.

This post is not going to explain how, after losing my job and my faith and my in-laws, I lost my home and my spouse and my partner and my dog (dammit). And it’s probably not going to say too much about how I gained a business in a new town, a new love interest, a new house, a new work environment (or two), and a new perspective on life.

Except that it is.

This post certainly isn’t going to pick up right where we left off; because it can’t; because I can’t; because I’m not the same person anymore and I’m sure my voice has changed entirely: the narrative and narrative approach certainly has.

That part is completely true.

This post is going to be about what I did today. Just today. Because now is all that really matters, after all.

And, just let me put this down here and walk away: the universe already contains everything. Including bacon. Especially bacon. I’ll get to the bacon later.

I’ll begin at the beginning as David Copperfield teaches us is best.[3]

I woke up earlier than I have been. My sleeping patterns have become wacked over the last month; not that they were great to begin with. So, waking up early (voluntarily) was pleasant. I have the best jersey sheets in the world (sometimes they invoke a bit of a tussle, but that’s not altogether undesirable) and my room smells earthy—typically of lavender, sex, and herbs.[4] I enjoy having a room to myself, a house to myself. For someone who thrives on companionship, I really like living alone. I’ve become accustomed to waking up alone. I’ve even begun genuinely enjoying it. It allows me the opportunity to wake at my own pace without the need to tiptoe for fear of disturbing another, without the rush of preparing breakfast for whoever is simply going to die without coffee and divine-or-otherwise-bacon. I listen to podcasts connected via Bluetooth that echo through the Turn-of-The-Century Southern architecture that surrounds me. I play Madonna and Flogging Molly and Rammstein and Nina Simone and Hozier and (sometimes) Migos and Nathaniel Ratliff and The Decemberists on my Firestick TV as loud as I like and without fear of judgment. When I’m not at work, I wear knitted knee-high socks and Mukluks and shorts and ratted shirts and hoodies and a ponytail and my ancient glasses. I don’t wear makeup. I cook when I’m hungry. I sleep when I’m tired. I poop with the door open.

This morning it was cold, so leaving my heated room was a little harder than usual. I consumed coffee with CBD and heavy cream and the last chocolate Pop-Tart, relished love on my three needy cats, changed into work clothes, packed some supplies, and headed to the bank and then the store I own in my tiny new town.[5]

While tending my shop, I have long stretches of downtime with busy spurts where atypically joyful people come in and stare in wide-eyed wonder at the interior, the wares, my mischievous hair.[6] The shop smells of coffee, tobacco, and magic. I watch movies—it usually takes me all day to watch one film—listen to more podcasts, surf the web, grade student work (I also have a position as Assistant Professor of English and am teaching Shakespeare and Film[7]), order new merchandise, talk with friends, and read Tarot. Not all at once, of course. Today I wrote this.

Today I have some special projects going on: I’m expanding my business and this involves paint and hammers and Gorilla Glue and a surprising number of curtain rods. Today I took some phone calls from vendors and would-be-vendors. Yesterday, I got two out-of-the-blue calls from old Kindred folk, so today held follow-up messages. Today I started research on my next business venture. Today I did a little house shopping.[8] Today I thought about getting a puppy.[9]

Tomorrow I may look at trucks.

A thought occurred to me over and again: “What a year.”

The store is just shy of its first anniversary and the last year seems to have drifted by so effortlessly. I know it hasn’t. When I think about the chronology, it really hasn’t. At all. Like, not even a little. Like, there wasn’t a week that went by there for a while where I didn’t feel like Life had dumped my purse out on the table in the library during detention. I think about all of the hardship and loss that went into the inception of this business and the world I had to build on my own in the wake of all that hardship and loss; I remember the trauma (emotional and physical) that brought me to a place where rising from the ashes was the only option I had left.[10] I remember it, but I don’t feel it anymore. It all feels so easy now. I even quit smoking. And I only drink rarely[11]—and look forward to drinking even less, because … damn; let’s just take a moment to remember that PTSD and alcohol are not a good mix.

I had my annual March break-up in February, a little early, I know, but not everything can sustain to the full year mark. My heart[12] was shattered. But having survived three MAJOR breakups[13] in three years (one of which was a divorce), I learned some things. The most important thing is that someone else’s feelings are none of my business. Cain’t fix ‘em; cain’t change ‘em, cain’t take ‘em personally, and cain’t let ‘em rule your world. The only reason I mention it was that it may have been just what the proverbial doctor ordered. The metaphorical straw that broke the camel’s back. The idiomatic final drop in the water clock. The not-so-figurative-right-thing-at-the-right-time that made this particular Witch sit on her hands (read this and say, “doctor heal thine own danged self”), drop the oars, button her lip, and all of the other weird phrases we use to say the same thing.

For two-and-a-half years, I couldn’t find divine. I knew it was there, I just couldn’t access it. For two-and-a-half years, I couldn’t find my (writing) muse. I knew it was there, I just couldn’t access it. For two-and-a-half years, I couldn’t find (business/work) inspiration. I knew it was there, I just couldn’t access it. For two-and-a-half years, I couldn’t find prosperity. I knew it was there, I just couldn’t access it. For two-and-a-half years—who are we kidding a decade or forever, I couldn’t find security and confidence. I knew it could be there, I just couldn’t access it.

After two years of digging myself into a quagmire and then six or seven months of climbing my way out, I discovered (remembered) the most valuable, most effective method of approach for life: let it go. Sit on your hands, drop the oars, button your lips, etc. Let it go and watch it turn to glitter.

When you’re so used to fighting and struggling to hang on for dear life, and so used to working and asserting just to be acknowledged as a worthwhile person, and so used to being deprived and struggling to make ends meet and to put out metaphorical fires, and so used to battling for cooperation and assistance, it’s hard to think of “letting go.” My gut reaction was, “If I let go, it will all fall apart.”

I was right.

Thank the Gods.[14]

There was that one last thing. That thing that made me throw my hands in the air.[15] That thing that forced me to let go for just a minute. I let go and actively decided not to grab hold again. I let go and let everything smash to the ground like the beautiful and terrifying timpani at the open of a symphony.

I let go and, indeed, it all fell apart. And with the shards of my life glinting fractures of light all around me, I could breathe. I didn’t have to hold it all together anymore. I didn’t have to keep track of all the parts. I didn’t have to worry about other people’s feelings that I cain’t fix, cain’t change, cain’t take personally, and cain’t let rule my world anyway. And, this time, in letting go I didn’t have to die.[16] All I had to do was not step on the allegorical glass in my figuratively bare feet as I walked away.

So, yeah. Today didn’t have anything to do with Magic or Witchcraft or Sorcery or healing or food or family or community-building. But it had everything to do with all of those things in every way possible.

It’s good to see y’all again. We’ll touch base soon.

Quarks, Bacon Fat, and All the Love in the World,

Ehsha

P.S. If you want a sneak peek at where this is headed. It’s headed back to where we were oh, so long ago. Back to where we prolly lost track of a lot. Back to where we clearly had some lessons to (re)learn. Back to what feels like an entirely different person’s life. Back to where we hope to be headed from here on in because this feels so much easier and absolutely more fun and entirely more gratifying. Back to the future, as it were. Have a look at The Bad Witch and The Good Egg and you’ll remember, right alongside me, that we ordered divine bacon and room service is bringing us bacon in the morning and all we need to do is go open the door.[17]

[1] Especially the Stephen King part. Watch 1922 before I blog again. It’ll be worth it. Plus Tom Jane.

[2] We all know it’s 42 anyway.

[3] And if you start singing Rodgers and Hammerstein, I’m leaving.

[4] Unlike the rest of my house, which smells like baked goods candles.

Unlike my kitchen which smells like cats and cast-iron cooking.

[5] Today was bangarang business, thanks for asking.

[6] I get comments often. Today was a particularly, “Gee you have lovely red hair,” day.

Senna conditioner, fellow gingers. Trust me.

[7] Don’t be deceived. I don’t teach *Shakespeare and Film* but *Shakespeare* and *Film.* I prepared for the former at the time of offer and was stunned to find that reality required the latter.

[8] I love my ancient house, but it’s too big and hard to regulate the temperature.

[9] I’ve always loved Great Danes—remind me to tell you about Duchess and Gertrude sometime—and Burmese Mountain Dogs.

[10] Well, there were other options but I died the year prior for about 4-5 minutes; nobody likes a one-trick pony.

[11] It was so shitty there for a while that I was leaning on a BOX of wine every 2-3 days just to cope. Now if I drink 2-3 glasses of wine, I’m hammered.

[12] Ego, if we’re honest. It was coming for a while, my heart knew even if it didn’t like it.

[13] #polyamoryproblems

[14] God, Divine, The Source, The Universe, Nuit–pick a name, any name, It doesn’t care.

[15] And wave ‘em like I just don’t care.

[16] This was a realization I came to at Yule but wasn’t able to really incorporate until all the shit had finished hitting all the fans.

[17] And tip your waitress.

Guess Who’s Back? This post is not going to be about Witchcraft, Magic, Kindred building, Sorcery, Bad Witches, Stephen King, or even food or gardening.