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writing-freak · 5 years

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Flying

Peter Parker x Reader x Dad!Tony

A/N: I told y’all I had one coming! Peter is honestly so adorable!! Happy reading! :) I’m thinking another x-men next??? I guess we’ll see! Reminder-Requests are open!! Send me a prompt, or any idea really! I’d love to write something for you guys!!

Word Count: 3,020 (haha oops)

Masterlist

Being the child of both the smartest and richest man in New York had its perks. Right now, you were enjoying one of them, enjoying the view from the top of Stark Tower as you curled up with a book, basking in the summer heat and feeling the light breeze through your hair.

It was the first time you’d had the opportunity to read your book all week, and you were loving the silence this time alone brought you. Your dad had just gotten home from a long mission, and refused to leave you alone for more than two seconds all week. But you had woken this morning to find a note on the counter, explaining how he had to leave on urgent business in the middle of the night.

After years of impromptu Avengers missions, you knew the drill. He’d be back when he’d be back, and for now, the penthouse suite of Stark Tower was yours to do whatever you wanted.

And right now, that meant a quiet morning with your book. The silence was so unbelievable that you almost didn’t bat an eye when you heard someone clear their throat behind you. Almost.

Knowing your father wouldn’t be home anytime soon, your first instinct was to freeze, the book in your hands no longer holding your interest. But the voice that came next belonged to a teenage boy.

“Excuse me, do you know where Tony Stark is?” you heard, and you spun around in your seat to find a boy around your age, wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a cheesy pun about periodic tables.

Frowning, you stood up from your seat. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?”

The boy flushed, shifting his weight as he looked at you apologetically. “Sorry, I know this is Mr. Stark’s private penthouse, but I was supposed to meet him today, and Happy told me he might be up here?”

“He’s out,” you replied, still intrigued by the stranger across from you.

“And you’re his…”

“Kid,” you answered, crossing your arms. “Why are you meeting with my dad?”

The kid shifted again, very obviously uncomfortable. “I-I’m...an intern. I work with your father?”

You didn’t need the boy’s horrible lying abilities to know that your father didn’t have any teenage interns working for his company. Not any that were allowed to come up to his penthouse suite to have a chat with him, anyway. But it took you a few seconds to register what that meant. A teenage boy, in the city, who came to have meetings with your father?

“You’re Spiderman!” You said, finally coming to the realization. The boy went pale, shaking his head. You rolled your eyes. “Look, I’m not gonna rat you out or anything. It’s not like you’re going to be able to lie your way out of it; you’ve already proven yourself to be pretty horrible at that.”

He smiled sheepishly, but held out his hand. “Peter Parker,” he said, and you shook his hand.

“Y/N. Y/N Stark,” you added, “but it seems like you already knew that.”

“Well, y/n,” Peter said, “I guess I should leave to your book. It was nice meeting you!” He smiled kindly, waving awkwardly as he turned around.

“Wait!” you yelled, and then smiled, composing yourself as he turned back towards you. “You should stay. My dad might be home soon, and if he was asking to meet with you, I’m sure it was important.”

“I don’t want to intrude,” Peter said, motioning to your setup on the chair.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re not intruding on anything. Sit down,” you said, motioning to the other chairs around you, slumping back into your own seat. Peter took a seat, but he looked hesitant, perched uncomfortably on the edge of his chair.

You ignored this and returned to gazing at the skyline. “It’s a nice view, huh?” you asked.

Peter let out a breath you didn’t know he’d been holding in, settling into his chair. “It’s beautiful.”

“It looks so distant, though. I mean, I know we’re right in the middle of it, but it feels like there’s a glass wall between us and the city.” You looked at him thoughtfully. “What would happen if you jumped off the building right now?”

He laughed. “Well, since I’m not wearing my suit, I would most likely fall to my death.” You snorted.

“But if you were wearing it. You’d just fly.” You sighed. “Sounds freeing.” The next few moments passed in silence, and you glanced at Peter, who looked unsure of what to say. You decided to change the subject. “So, you’re in high school, right? Where do you go to school?”

“Midtown School of Science and Technology,” Peter recited. You nodded, recognizing the name as a well known STEM school in the city. “You?”

You shook your head. “I’m homeschooled. When my dad has time, he teaches me, but I have some tutors both online and that come here sometimes. I don’t leave the tower very much. Does it show?” You teased, laughing.

He laughed too, but he shook his head. “Not really.”

“So why are you meeting my father, Spiderman? I heard you’d given up your Avenger’s position to stay local.”

“Mr. Stark likes me to check in every once in awhile,” Peter answered. “He makes adjustments to my suit too.”

“Why did you do it?” you asked curiously.

“I’m not like your dad, or any of the Avengers. I’m Peter Parker, I’m no one, and my talents are better served as a friendly neighborhood Spiderman than someone who saves the world.” He looked down at his lap. “It was cowardly, I guess.” You frowned.

“It’s noble.” Peter looked up. You were about to go into a speech about how helping the little guy was just as important as saving the world when Peter stood up abruptly.

“I really should go. Mr. Stark’s not going to be here anytime soon, is he?”

You sighed. “Probably not,” you answered honestly.

Peter nodded, heading towards the door. “It was nice talking to you,” he said, smiling kindly. He looked like a puppy dog, and his soft brown eyes made you smile.

“Is it alright if I text you?” you asked, surprising yourself, and Peter it seemed, who flushed red quicker than you imagined possible. “I don’t have a lot of friends my age, you know, with the homeschooling and everything,” you explained. Peter nodded his head, and you swore you saw a smile on his face. You stood up quickly, pulling your phone from your pocket. You already had a new text message opened by the time you made it to Peter. You handed him your phone, and he typed in a number. When you got the phone back, you typed a quick “sup” with the peace sign emoji, and sent it. It took seconds for Peter’s phone to buzz, his screen lighting up as he added you to his contacts as well.

Peter looked up from his phone, looking as if he wanted to say something, but then he bit his lip and said, “See you around, y/n.”

You smiled. “See you around, Spiderman.”

When your father got home later that evening, you told him about Peter’s visit.

“Oh, Peter,” Tony said, scratching his face. “Yeah, he’s this new intern at Stark Industries.”

“I already know he’s Spiderman, dad,” you said, rolling your eyes. “But thanks for your trust in me.”

Tony winked at you. “How’d you find out? Did he tell you?”

“Please. What kind of teenage intern would be allowed to visit you in your penthouse suite?”

“Touché.”

“How was your mission?” you asked curiously.

“You know I’m not allowed to disclose details,” Tony said, waving you off.

“Pretty please?” you asked, batting your eyes. “You know I’ll just hack into your mission files tomorrow.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Is that a challenge?”

“Fine.”

“Yay!”

You decided to send Peter a text for the first time the next morning. Tony was making waffles, and you were tasting the batter as you balanced a calculus textbook on your lap.

Tony was rambling on about the Fundamental Theorem of Calculus, which you had neglected to tell him was the subject of the week before’s lesson with your tutor Mrs. Greene. Your phone was unlocked, sitting on the textbook, and you pulled up Peter’s contact info, biting your lip as you debated tapping the message button. Taking a deep breath, you clicked on it, and your heartbeat sped up as the text message opened.

You settled on a cute Spiderman meme, a little teasing in nature, and hit send before you had the chance to talk yourself out of it.

“I feel like you’re ignoring me,” Tony huffed dramatically. He set a waffle on your plate, pouting like a child.

“You’re right,” you said, grinning as you took a big bite.

Tony sighed. “Just do your homework, kid.”

“Will do.”

The rest of your breakfast was in silence as Tony continued piling waffles on your plate as you worked your way through advanced calculus problems. When you felt a light buzz on your lap, you almost jumped in your seat.

Peter’s response was a quick gif of your dad with the caption “I AM IRON MAN”. You giggled lightly, sending a quick response before you locked your phone again.

“What so funny?” Tony asked, leaning over the counter. “Certainly not the Fundamental Theorem of Calculus?”

You laughed again. “Apparently they’re making memes about you, Dad.”

Tony frowned. “Who’s making memes about me?” You shrugged, laughing harder at his expression. “Alright, that’s it.” He grabbed your plate, despite your protests. “Go to your room. Maybe you can focus better in there.”

But it didn’t really improve your focus as much as your father had hoped. On your way back to your bedroom, you texted Peter again. Great, you got me in trouble with my dad. Way to go. 🙄

Sorry :(

When arrived at your room, you threw the calculus book on the floor, forgotten, as you climbed onto your bed.

I’m not sure if he’s upset or ecstatic that he’s essentially a walking meme.

Ecstatic. For sure.

Over the course of the next few weeks, you and Peter became close friends over text. Despite never seeing each other in person, you held conversations over text message past midnight every night, fell asleep to each other’s voices on the phone, and were the first to say good morning the next day.

You awoke one Saturday morning to a couple of text tones coming from the nightstand beside your bed. You pulled it towards you, unlocking it as you blinked sleepily. Unable to read the messages on the bright screen, you decided to call Peter. He picked up on the first ring.

“Y/N?”

“Hey Pete.”

“What’s up?”

“Do you wanna do something today?” You asked in between a yawn. When the other end was silent for a couple of moments, you felt your heartbeat quicken, worried you had crossed a line. You and Peter had not met in person since the day you had met, a little over a month ago. You sat up in your bed, waking up quickly. “Unless you’re busy. Sorry, I totally understand if-”

“No,” Peter interrupted, “no no no no no!” You laughed a little as his insistence. “I’d love to. It’s just,” he sighed, “the Homecoming dance is tonight, and I promised Aunt May I’d let her help me get ready.”

“Ooh, Homecoming. Sounds fun! Got a hot date?”

Peter laughed. “Yeah, no. I wouldn’t go at all if Ned hadn’t insisted I come. But he got a date, asked her just yesterday.”

“Poor Peter,” you teased. “At the dance all by himself.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll just hide in the bathroom the whole time.”

You laughed. “I have a feeling that’s what I’d do during a school dance, too.”

“Wait,” Peter said, coming to a realization. “You’ve never been to a school dance.” He said it rather than asked it, but you felt yourself nod, even though he wouldn’t be able to see. You felt your heart thudding in your chest. “Would you like to go to one?” His voice was small, as if he was nervous.

“That sounds like fun, Pete,” you said, surprised you were able to form complete sentences. Nervous excitement fluttered through your veins, and you felt your cheeks flush as you heard Peter’s “Awesome!”

You thought your dad would’ve been mad hearing that you’d made plans without asking him, but as you soon understood, to Tony Stark, Peter was about the least dangerous person his child could be spending their time with.

It didn’t take long for your father to buy you an outfit to be brought to Stark Tower. What took a long time was the hour after you had finished getting ready, just following dinner that night, when you had to wait for Peter to arrive. Your father had refused to let you wait downstairs, so you had to stand outside the elevator door, waiting for the light to flash and the doors to open.

You were drumming your fingers on your knee when you heard the ping. Standing up and straightening out your clothes, you took a deep breath.

But when the doors opened, it was simply Happy, with a light smile on his face, his eyebrows raised at your not-so-friendly glare.

“I thought you were Peter,” you mumbled, sighing. Happy chuckled.

“Good to see you too, y/n.”

You rolled your eyes. “How’s it going, Happy?” you asked, your hand returning to your knee, where it continued to tap anxiously.

“I’ve been pretty good actually,” Happy said. “The company’s doing well, your dad’s been off my back-” The elevator pinged again, and you jumped to your feet, ignoring Happy as you met eyes Peter through the slowly opening elevator doors.

He looked gorgeous. You had forgotten just how gorgeous he was. His black suit fit him perfectly, and his puppy dog eyes lit up when they saw you. “Y/N…” Peter said quietly, his voice fading out. You felt a flutter of butterflies in your stomach, your cheeks heating up from his gaze. And then Tony Stark stepped in front of you, blocking your view.

“Peter.” Tony acknowledged.

“Mr-Mr. Stark,” Peter stuttered. “How...How’s it going?” His voice sounded small as Tony put an arm around his shoulder and ushered him into the apartment.

“Wonderful, Peter. Just wonderful.” You saw Peter flinch at the tight grip your father had on his arm. You rolled your eyes.

“Dad.” you said, your voice firm. Your dad looked at you then, an innocent look on his face.

“What, y/n? I just want to give your friend Pete a little talk.” You gave Peter an apologetic glance, but you figured he’d handle it fine; Tony wasn’t as scary as he liked to think he was.

After Peter’s face went pale from Tony’s threats, the two of you stood by the elevator door, wishing Happy and Tony a good night. When the elevator doors finally closed, you both let out a sigh of relief.

“Sorry about that,” you said, a grin on your face. Peter laughed.

“It’s alright. I think your dad likes me.”

“I think he does too. He’s not good at admitting stuff like that.”

“Are you ready for the dance?” Peter asked, glancing over at you. He still seemed nervous, and you could feel the butterflies still fluttering around your stomach.

“No,” you answered honestly, chuckling softly. “I’m terrified.”

Your heart jumped when you felt Peter’s cool hands over your own. You looked at him, your breathing uneven. And then, before giving yourself the chance to change your mind, you pressed the stop button on the elevator, trapping the car between floors.

“Wha-” Peter started to ask, but you interrupted them.

“Before we get there,” you took a deep breath to steady yourself. “I just wanted to tell you...I really like you Pete, and I know you probably just asked me to this dance as a friend, but I just thought you should know.” Peter’s eyes widened, but he looked at a loss for words. Your heart was pounding, cheeks flushed in nervous embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” you said as he stayed silent. You unwound your hand from his, the butterflies quickly turning into nausea. You felt tears well in your eyes as you desperately wished you hadn’t said anything at all.

“No!” Peter said, grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer. Up close, you could see the pink tinting his cheeks, and you were sure he could feel your heartbeat from where his fingers gripped your wrist. “I...I didn’t invite you as more than a friend. I…” But you had gotten all the confirmation you needed.

You raised your free hand to cup his cheek, and leaned in the remaining distance. It was awkward at first, and your noses bumped together uncomfortably, but Peter wound his other arm around your waist, and you felt warm in all the places you were touching: your fingers on his cheek, his hand on your back, and his cool fingers wrapped around your wrist. When you pulled away (too soon in your opinion), you were both out of breath. You smiled up at Peter, your eyes opening slowly to meet his puppy dog ones. The moment would have been perfect, had it not been for the robotic voice that came on through the elevator’s intercom system.

“Y/N Stark,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said. You groaned, already knowing what this was about. “Your father would like to ask you to stop making out with your boyfriend long enough to resume the elevator functioning. All deliveries to the upper floors are being blocked.” Your face grew hot, and you buried it in Peter’s chest.

“Cameras,” you mumbled. Peter pressed the button to start the elevator again, but you suspected his cheeks were as red as yours. “My dad’s going to kill you.”

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tyleroakley-obsessed · 4 years

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Ed. Note: Wesley is back with another roundup of Memphis live music and fresh commentary for December’s concerts – everything from beloved rockers Lucero to pop superstar Ariana Grande to songstress D’Monet. Got a show to suggest for a future “Listen Up” guide to live music in Memphis? Just email me at [email protected] with the subject line “Listen Up”. If you’re looking for holiday performances and live concerts, check out the Holiday Events Guide. If you’re wanting some Christmas music, check out the “Holidays In Memphis” Spotify playlist here. Here are some shows that you may get excited about, and a few that I’m excited about, happening in December. DECEMBER 2 We the Kings at Growlers 7:30 p.m., all ages, $25 My partner Erin volunteers to help me write these lists by sending me links to shows by bands that I’d normally ignore. Not out of malice, usually, but ignorance. This is one of them. We the Kings is an emo/pop punk band from Florida who’ve been consistently releasing music since 2007. They had a Billboard Hot 100 song with Demi Lovato a decade ago.They’ll be at Growlers supported by Florida brethren Northbound and local bands Fear. The Sparrow, and Brother Levee. If you’re excited about the MCR reunion, maybe check this one out. DECEMBER 5 Tobe Nwigwe at Minglewood Hall 7 p.m., all ages, $25+ “I grew up with gangstas that had more lean on ‘em than Mike Jack in Smooth Criminal,” Tobe Nwigwe raps on his song “BOUNTIFUL.” The flow doesn’t quite hit right, but it’s still a pretty funny line. There are plenty of those on Nwigwe’s tracks, which slap. You can also buy tickets for a “Private Dining Experience” with him and his cohort for anywhere from $500-$800. I love this guy. DECEMBER 7 Ariana Grande at FedExForum 8 p.m., all ages probably, $42+ Ariana Grande likes to wear makeup to appear racially ambiguous, but you know what’s not made up or ambiguous? The critical and commercial success of her latest album Sweetener and its world tour. FedExForum is one of the tour’s last stops, so this is one of your last chances to hear some perfectly precision-crafted pop hits. (Ed. Note: This show is the same day at the St. Jude Memphis Marathon, so expect downtown to be nuts.) DECEMBER 8 The Get Up Kids at Growlers 7 p.m., all ages, $20 via Facebook To be honest, I could copy & paste the blurb about We the Kings and replace some band names for this one, but that’d be unfair. The Get Up Kids is a more-famous emo/pop punk band that I also had never listened to before Erin suggested listing them. Once again, if you’re excited about the MCR reunion, maybe check this one out. DECEMBER 10 Rob Jungklas at The Green Room 7:30 p.m., all ages, $10 7 Sisters by Rob Jungklas Memphian Rob Jungklas is a hard-working man. Not just because he’s been recording and releasing music since the early 80s (including the 1986 track “Make it Mean Something” which broke into the Billboard Hot 100), but also because he taught school for a decade. I got nothing but love for the educators. He also makes some very solid music! Just during casual listens of various songs on his Bandcamp I thought “Huh, he kinda reminds me of Michael Stipe”, but then I’d hear a song and think, “Huh, he kinda sounds like Son House.” Then I looked at his portrait and thought, “Huh, he kinda looks like Jeremy Irons.” That’s pretty cool. DECEMBER 13 Lucero at Minglewood Hall 7 p.m., all ages, $21+ Lucero via All Eyes Media We seen ‘em, we love ‘em, somebody over at AMC really loves ‘em. It’s Lucero. You can’t even call them a local band anymore, they’re just a Band. Did you know there’s a Mexican singer and actress also named Lucero? And if you search “Lucero” on YouTube, this is the first result? And YouTube lists our Lucero’s tour dates underneath her video? Do I smell a collab? (Ed. Note: The Nashville newspaper once published an article about a Memphis Lucero show accompanied by a photo of the Mexican Lucero and it was incredible.) DECEMBER 15 Folk All Y’all: Cory Branan’s Birthday Show at The Green Room 7:30 p.m., all ages, $20 Last year, Wide Open Country called Cory Branan an “alt-country troubadour”, which is both true and untrue. His music can definitely be called “alt-country”, but I listened to a bit of his 2017 album ADIOS and was surprised at how much genre mingling there is going on there. I was ready for heartland good ol’ boy dreck but instead I got some punchy, punky tunes about racist cops and death and going to Hell. Good for you, Cory. DECEMBER 17 Annabelle PLAYE at the Hi-Tone Cafe 7:30 p.m., all ages, $10 Annabelle Playe – WeSA Festival 2018 from wesa on Vimeo. Music concrète is an experimental music movement originating in France in the early 20th century which you can read a bit more about here. I’m not an expert on the subject, but from what I do know, I believe Annabelle PLAYE fits the bill. Robert Trexler, who is also performing that night and is the founder of the Memphis Concrète Music Festival, seems to agree. She’s also French, so there you go. Solid walls of electronic bleeps, bloops, buzzes, and gurgles are expected, as are some trippy visuals to heighten the experience. DECEMBER 21 D’Monet at The Green Room 7:30 p.m., all ages, $10 Ayyyy must be D’Monet! I’m sorry. Anyway, D’Monet is a soul singer with a malleable, refined voice, holds a BA in Vocal Music Performance from our very own LeMoyne Owen College, and has travelled the world training and performing with all kinds of folks. She’s got the skills to back up her resume, and I’m not sure there’s ever been a more perfect artist to perform in The Green Room. Check the video above to see her performing at Crosstown Arts. DECEMBER 27 Scarface at the 1884 Lounge in Minglewood Hall 8:00 p.m., 18+, $25+ Scarface, one-third of the classic Geto Boys roster (R.I.P. Bushwick Bill) and one of the best rappers of all time is playing with a full band at Minglewood. The show poster shows him tuning a Telecaster and I’m losing my mind. A lil’ twangy-ass Tele! I didn’t even know he played guitar. Some of the best shows I’ve ever been to or watched were rappers with full backing bands. “On My Block” with a band would probably be great. About The Author Wesley Morgan Paraham is a Memphis native, a University of Memphis graduate, freelance writer and PR professional who spends most of his free time in his Midtown apartment playing video games with his partner. Are you a home owner in Memphis, with a broken garage door? Call ASAP garage door today at 901-461-0385 or checkout https://ift.tt/1B5z3Pc

https://ilovememphisblog.com/2019/11/listen-up-9-live-music-shows-in-memphis-this-month-december-2019/

#I Love Memphis

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musicwar · 7 years

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Song of the Day: January 19, 2017

Jeff Buckley, “Night Flight” (Led Zeppelin cover)

“Hi, my name is Corey, and I’m a music obsessive.”

“Hi, Corey.” (P.S.: it’s entirely likely that the boys on this board fall into this category too).

I’ll find myself on a jag with a particular artist and I sit down at that table and eat until I can barely push myself away -- hits, albums, deep cuts, b-sides, live boots, covers, etc. And then move on to the next (not always connected) obsession. And so I find myself drifting back into a Jeff Buckley phase of late. There are many, many reasons -- but perhaps the best way to get to the bottom of it all is through a story. The story of my first week living in New York City after I moved there in the summer of 1993.

(What I’m about to tell you is all true -- it just sounds super implausible so bear with me as this tale takes a little telling).

My best friend from college was living on the Upper West Side circa 1993; it wasn’t all baby strollers and upscale cafes yet (although Zabar’s was still very much the center of our little ‘hood, you purists will be pleased to note). He and some other Oregon expatriate friends were kind enough to invite me to a “welcome dinner” at a place in the LES (it hadn’t been rebranded the East Village quite yet) called Princess Pamela’s -- sadly, it’s no longer there but it was a down-at-the-heels soul food place just off the Bowery in an old railroad apartment run by a capricious crank named Pamela, who essentially decided whether she wanted to serve you that night or not. On the night in question, we walked to the restaurant from my friend’s apartment and passed a crime scene (body under a sheet with police tape around it; turned out some kid had jumped from a roof earlier that night) and then arrived at Pamela’s only to find that she had “no food left to serve.” So we walked to the green grocer next door; bought items from a list Pamela had provided us (no joke, with our own money), and then brought them back to the restaurant, where her short order cook fixed us something along the lines of short ribs and collard greens and then charged us again for the food at her menu price. (The same menu that said “We got chicken, we got ribs, whatchu want?”) Welcome to New York.

We then walked from Princess Pamela’s to a little cafe in the neighborhood called Sin-e’ -- it wasn’t much to look at, like most of the dumps in and around the Bowery. It was a tiny room with no booze (which didn’t really do much for us at that point although I vaguely remember drinking some Rolling Rocks that night), just coffee, tea, pastries and some tables scattered around with a clearing at the front of the room that served as a “stage.” The musical entertainment that night was a guy I’d never heard of before named Jeff Buckley -- he was a funny kid, a little wired with a weird sense of humor, mixing originals with covers (which were crazy eclectic -- the Smiths, Van Morrison, Bob Dylan, Nina Simone, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan). What you see here is basically what we saw that night, only Jeff’s hair was shorter. He could play the shit out of the guitar (I’m not a particularly great guitarist but I know one when I see/hear one), was clearly uncomfortable with even the nascent aspects of celebrity culture that were present (e.g., cameras, long before smartphones) but more than anything else what blew my mind was dude’s voice -- I felt like I’d heard it somewhere before but I had never seen or met ANYONE (Elliott Smith included) who could do the singer/songwriter thing amplified and scale the heights of both Jimmy Page’s playing and Robert Plant’s singing. AT THE SAME TIME IN THE SAME SONG. Plus, what were all these beautiful, model-looking women doing at this crappy little cafe in the middle of one of the worst drug/prostitution/crime neighborhoods in the City? The whole thing was kind of baffling and my friends acted like it was nbd -- it’s NYC, Holmes, this shit happens all the time. You walk into a not-even-dive-bar and some dude with a voice like a choirboy is singing obscure Zep covers to a couple dozen bored-looking people on a random school night. (As it happens, Buckley lived just a few blocks down the street and the magically reverbed Tele he played that night wasn’t even his... he’d just borrowed it for the residency).

We left. I was kinda floored, more than a little buzzed. We stopped at some other dive for ridiculously strong whiskey drinks and then I cabbed it home to the UWS -- the cab I was in lost a wheel/tire somewhere in midtown and I had to hoof it the rest of the way back from there, really late, and through a couple of sketchy streets (Amsterdam and the 60s was no joke back in the day, y’all). This is my life, man. I live in the Apple now. And I can see something like this ANY NIGHT, IT IS POSSIBLE.

It was only much later (after Grace was released) that I made the family connection back to the Tim Buckley albums like Happy/Sad and Goodbye and Hello that my dad had loved so much, he had told me stories about seeing that guy at the Troubadour way back in the day and I marveled at the DNA trickery that allowed Tim’s heavenly voice to somehow magically materialize a generation later in the form of his distant/estranged son, living like a bum on the Bowery and playing for tips in a cafe you wouldn’t have recognized then or now (I think it’s another Irish bar called “Bua,” which is Gaelic for victory -- whereas Sin-e’ essentially meant “that’s it!”).

This song totally takes me back to that night, to a pre-fame, very much ALIVE Jeff Buckley, who could goof on a deep Zep track by giving it a funky Sly & the Family Stone intro, talk about a time when he was playing it every night as being transported back to “two months ago, in a golden age,” and a New York City that essentially doesn’t exist anymore: a lot grubbier, a little more dangerous. (Ironically, Physical Graffiti -- the album from which this song is taken -- was the first album Buckley ever owned, and its cover photo is a St Mark’s Place block just a few short steps from where I saw him that night). It felt like home for a couple of years and so that is why I obsess over Jeff’s music today. It feels like him taking me on a guided tour of my record collection from the comfy, beaten-up confines of my tiny NYC living room. And then I miss him. (CdB)

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