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khelinski · 2 years

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Wastin’ Away

Aloha! How are you? I am good. In fact, I am great! I wake up every morning in paradise, graced by the sun and surrounded by beautiful palm trees: a picturesque portrait you should be jealous over! Not a bad life, I must say. How did I get here, though? I mean, I got a job I enjoy at a company I love. I fell in love with an amazing gal (and guess what, she loves me too)! It doesn’t get better than this. But the question remains, how did I get here? It’s like that Talking Heads song!

Guess I have to go back to the beginning, eh?

I lived in Michigan all my young life in a city called Buena Heights. I graduated in ’99. I had no college ambition. I didn’t want a huge student loan up my ass! I didn’t feel like the armed forces were for me. As one of my close friends, Anthony, would say, “Some people...just move on, and never look back.” We were sitting in Subway when he said that to me. What he said sounded like an excerpt to a song from a 1960s band. I actually looked it up afterward. It isn’t. But it should be!

In truth, I did what I thought was best FOR ME! I had no destination when I first thought about leaving somewhere, that is until I watched a Wild On! episode on E! about Key West in Florida. It’s a small town, with big hopes! I longed for the atmosphere of it. My plan: I would get a local job somewhere, find a cheap apartment, and just live. I had three years’ worth of savings just for this very moment. My parents weren’t too happy about the whole ordeal. I didn’t let them bother me.

I packed my things in my ’92 Pontiac Trans Sport (a family heirloom), and just drove. I drove I-75 all the way down. I’ve had road trips up north with friends before. But I’ve never driven this kind of distance. The merging(s) with all the big cities were pretty nerve-racking, hoping for dear life that I don’t hit the car next to me that was about to swerve into my lane. I think the biggest nail-biting experience was Atlanta and how I-75 just splits in two. Who in the blue hell created that merge?

I was amazed by how close the mountains were to the roads as I was passing them by through Kentucky and Tennessee. I had Pink Floyd Animals in the CD player at the time, and it was as if David Gilmour’s guitar licks during the mid-section of “Dogs” was in-sync with the passing mountains. Quite a psychedelic experience, man!

Once I got down there after three days of driving, let me tell you, it was unreal. This was my first time in Florida. I’ve always loved the hot summer days in Michigan, opposed to every day before or after those hot days. But Florida weather was so much different. The sticky hot air melted your skin right off! You suffocated as your nose was plugged up because it was so f’n hot out! Some like it hot, though. And that would be me! If I could fly to Venus, I would walk on the surface of that planet with just a pair of shorts, flip flops, and a t-shirt.

This was my first time seeing palm trees up close. The light tan bark trailing to long green branches looked like an exotic flower on a tree. And the wind that went through the palm branches was a sight to see. There was even a sound that was made with every gust of wind, like a small waterfall. When the wind hit the branches, it made a chhhhh sound.

In my opinion, palm trees were the most beautiful trees on Earth, especially in front of a clear sunset. I never really knew what serenity meant until I saw my very first sunset in Florida! After the sunset and the night sky emerged, I had a thought cross my mind. “There is no place like home!” And this was my home! This was where I wanted to be, man!

This! This place!

Although I had money, I slept in my van for the first couple of days I was down there. On the third day, the cops busted me. They thought I was some junkie or something. Can you believe that? Not everyone that drove a van was a dope-fiend! And I told them that too. Real proud of it! A $70 ticket got handed to me as a souvenir!

Getting back to my story, Key West was very small. It was mainly a port for boats to come and go as they please. Certainly not exactly what I pictured at all. I walked into a few of the local bars, looking for work. No one would even look at me since I didn’t have a place to live (minor setback), and I wasn’t 21 (major setback). I walked into a place called Wastin’ Away, expecting the same routine from the other joints. There was something quite unique about this place, though. All the other hole-in-the-wall bars had the same bland, stale beer aroma. Wastin’ Away had a scent of sea salt. That was right. Sea salt.

The pink exterior of the building sets the place apart from the other bars. There was a plane right outside the bar, like that feeling of an escape to paradise. But I was in paradise!

I walked in, asked for an application. They said they didn’t have any. The person I was talking to was a greeter, quite the looker too! I knew I didn’t have the looks to impress, but I had the charm. And I charmed her enough to see the manager-in-charge. The manager was a woman, another looker. She was petite, seemed to be in her late 20s, and had a strange, outsider, look to her. Like she wasn’t one of the locals. She was hardly tanned (whereas, 90 percent of the locals I’d encountered, had a tan of some kind). She ushered me into one of the booths, and we chatted for a bit. I told her the condensed story of my life, and she was quite impressed by the fact that I drove all the way from Michigan without a place to stay. As we talked, she smoked a cigarette. The smoke came to my face a few times, and I had to fight the urge to cough. I hated smoking. I told her, although I was not a local, I intended on staying and that I wasn’t a drifter. She said to me that not having a place to stay might be a problem If I found a place by the end of the week (it was Wednesday when I had the interview), I would be able to start Monday as a ‘service assistant’ (Wastin’ Away’s version of a dishwasher). I wasn’t quite thrilled about washing dishes, and I certainly didn’t drive all the way from Michigan to wash dishes.

But hey, a job was a job. And I needed a steady income, STAT.

I looked around the place. It was a fairly decent size establishment. There were looped The Beach Boys, Bob Marley, and feel good summer tunes playing in the background. The booth’s tables had maps of various islands. I found out later on, some of the locals’ jokes that the islands on the tables represent all the places the owner of the bar has gotten laid at. I never really met the owner. James Bufet? Buffet? Buffett? Went something like that. He only came around once every few years on the days I wasn’t working!

There were palm trees all around the place. The girls working there were cute (especially one in particular, who was filling ketchup bottles; I didn’t know her name, but I was in complete awe over her.

“Man is she beautiful,” I thought: tanned, short, with glasses, and gave the appearance that her mind was somewhere else). And that sea salt smell. I loved that smell the second I walked into the place (and every time since). I could get used to this place. I shook the manager’s hand and took the job.

That day, I looked around for a decent apartment. Found a one-room for $550. That was the cheapest rent I could find. The location was nice, just shy of a mile from Wastin’ Away. I moved all my stuff into the apartment and felt at home. I opened the window and inhaled the humid air. I heard a little bit of shuffling from the other room. I checked it out and found some friends. I had cockroaches, big ones, in my new pad. Maybe they would sing for me, like in Joe’s Apartment! It’s one of the drawbacks of livin’ in the south.

Speaking of which, I called my parents from a payphone outside the apartment complex (didn’t have a cell phone then), and let them know the scoop. They both continued pressing me on with the big speech about life. I told them for the first time in my 18-years of existence how happy and excited I was. They told me how young and dumb I was. Gave me another speech about life, which included the whole, 'when I was your age’ spiel. I followed-through with the obligated “uh-huh,” “right,” “uh-huh,” “right.” I changed it up a few times and added, “You’re right,” while thinking, “You’re wrong.”

I knew they meant well. But no one was going to change my mind about this. No ONE! I was bullheaded. Washing dishes wasn’t exactly what I wanted to do. But I was away from home, I was feeding myself, and I was taking care of myself. It had been a few days, but I already felt peace of mind.

Not going to lie though, the very second I walked into Wastin’ Away my first day on the job, I hated it. Absolutely hated it. I walked into the back area and into the dish room, which ended up being my office for the next two years. The dish room was already backed up, and it was only 4 o’clock. No one in the place washed the dishes. The managers did once in a while if they were low on something. But otherwise, they just let dishes sat on top of other dishes. Traces of food would still be on the dishes, stacked on top of other dishes. The second the servers picked up plates from the tables, they would drop it off in the dish room. There was a trashcan right near the hose, but nobody thought to wipe the food excess off the plate into the trash. It just sat there. I looked at it with disgust. A thought popped in my head about walking out. I took a big deep breath and just toughened up.

I took the first plate, wiped the food off it into the trash, and washed it down with the flexible hose that spiraled and looped for easy access, and then placed it on a large brown tray. The stack decreased, and soon, I had a tray full of dishes. I slid the tray into the large dishwasher that looked like a smaller version of a car wash service. I lowered the contraption with a lever, and voila! The noise of the dishwasher had a loud hum to it. And that was my job there for the first couple of years.

That fall, Hurricane Irene hit Key West. It was my first experience with a hurricane. It was pretty scary with a lot of wind, rain. Wastin’ Away (as well as the other local businesses) all closed. I was told to evacuate, but I had no place to go. I ended up staying at a local shelter for the duration of the storm. It was like a winter storm in Michigan but on a whole different level. People grabbed bottled water and food like it was the end of the world. Like a tornado drill, you couldn’t be by any windows. It lasted a couple of days. When it was all over, all the trees were piled in the streets and sidewalks. Some houses were damaged, but it wasn’t severe. The highway signs had the worst of it.

I kept to myself that first year. I even had a special spot I found where I would hang out most of the time and watched the sunset on my days off. Most people wasted their free time playing video games all day or shopping at malls. Me, I spent all my free time here, watching the same beautiful sun retire until it was ready to grace its high beams the next day. Most people don’t even take notice of the simple yet majestic sights around them. And the best part, you didn’t need to max out your cards or dress to impress for those magical moments. All you needed to do was just open up your eyelids once in a while, and be entertained by the world’s finest show: a sun curtsey for you.

I tried to make conversation with some of the ladies that worked at Wastin’ Away (especially the beautiful ketchup girl), but because I was simply put, a dishwasher, I was below them. It was bad enough how degrading the job was. I thought I left high school with all the arrogant cliques that came with it. The only person that lowered themselves to talk to me was Sara. I would hang out in the manager’s office in the back, having cigarette smoke blown in my face (as I hid my disgust for ciggie smoke) and listened to Sara’s nonsense. I didn’t mind it, really. We clicked as friends and had some amusing conversations. In fact, I vividly remember one conversation in particular. She told me:

“Whatever you do in life, don’t let anyone ever trickfuck you!”

“Trickfuck?” I asked.

“Yeah. Trickfuck.”

I still looked puzzled. So, she explained it to me.

“When you get screwed over, you get fucked, right? I mean completely totally fucked, and not the good kind of fuck either.”

“Sure,” I added.

“Well, when you get fucked…completely utterly fucked, you get tricked. Trickfuck!”

Now, the conversation wasn’t really relevant to anything in particular, nor was it connected to the story here. But when I think back of my early years at the Keys, I think back to this conversation with Sara. I don’t know why. Maybe with how random it was!

Once I survived my first year (hurricane and all!), people started taking notice of me. The cooks there were having conversations with me about nonsense. All except the one. The one that had his shirt unbuttoned a couple of buttons down to reveal his gross chest hair (not exactly something you would like cooking your meat!) And he would always sing off-key, really horribly. But I guess if David Lee Roth could make a career out of singing badly, so could the cook, even if he was confined in the kitchen! He always had a toothpick in his mouth as he was singing. Not sure what that was all about!

After my second year of being a ‘service assistant,’ Sara decided to promote me to cook. That asshole cook got terminated for sexual harassment. I guess he got a little too close and personal with one of the underage greeters. That greeter told her dad. And the dad came up to the restaurant and started causing all kinds of hell. I wasn’t there that day, but I had heard from the grapevine that there was a fight that went from the kitchen to the dining area, to outside on the deck, and finally, in the water. That ended his career as a badly-singin’-cook! No word what he was up to these days, though I’ve been waiting every year to see if he made it on American Idol or The Voice!

I felt so proud to be climbing the ranks. By this time, my family decided to come to visit me in Key West. I was able to get a bigger apartment (somewhat cockroach-free), but was afraid I would get the same long-winded speeches I received before.

“You are wasting away your life.”

But their trip was actually a pleasant surprise. My parents got along with me; they saw how happy I was. And it ended smoothly with hugs all around.

I was getting some attention from the ladies now that my office was no longer a dish room but rather a kitchen. I guess when you were a dishwasher, ahem, service assistant, you were a piece of shit in the scheme of things. But once you were promoted, cook, you were now ‘in.’

You had a prestigious title, and you took full advantage of the perks. The perks WERE the waitresses! Most were real cute, but not really my type. All things considered though, it was very easy to get laid. But I didn’t bother. There was one that I was interested in (you know, beautiful ketchup girl), but I didn’t really pursue her at that time. I guess I was still shy, hiding in my own little shell. And I was completely in-tune with my new job. Besides, anytime I approached her, she never gave me the time of day, which was known, throughout the place, as her ‘cold treatment,’ but never mind about that right now.

When you were a cook, you had the power of creating the most awesomest meal on the face of the planet. The tourists that would come in would remember Key West not because of the palm trees, beaches, or the hot-hot sun, but because of their margaritas and cheeseburgers. But it wasn’t just any cheeseburgers I'm talking about here. No, your typical bland McDonalds’ Big Macs with cheese won’t be found here. We’re talking about cheeseburgers in paradise! Those burgers had two decadent buns put together over a burger that was quite possibly a slab of heaven! I became a professional in every sense of the word! And what was also nice, being able to cook your own meal your own way.

I stayed in the kitchen for two years, racking up four years at Wastin’ Away. Sara decided to move to New Jersey. She fell in love with a singer she met at Lead East, which is an annual event in New Jersey involving various 1950s nostalgia, including Doo-Wop music. Hey, it was her way of wastin’ away!

Once she left, the general manager had hinted to me about being her replacement. I had considered it but wanted to wait a while. I’d been behind-the-scenes all this time; I had no idea what life was like on the floor. That was when I decided I wanted to shake that saltshaker up and get trained as a server. The general manager thought it was a great idea and hired a new cook. I should point out that there were seven service assistants since I got promoted to cook two years prior. That was why I was able to climb the Wastin’ Away-embossed ladder, I lasted this long (and had helped the dishwasher whenever I could).

Life as a server was so much different. I carried that piece of paper/pen like it was my lifeline. Remembering people’s orders got confusing, and the specifics of orders. But it was interesting, a different perspective of things. I started out cleaning people’s dishes after they were done with it. Then I ended up being the one making the dishes for those people. And now, I was writing what the people want on their dishes!

The tips were sometimes rough. The locals rarely stiffed us. They knew better. But the tourists. Those dumb tourists. They usually were stingy with their money: their vacation money. If there was, say, a $19.09 bill, most (if not, all) tourists would leave a $20. Pathetic! There were some days I made just 5 dollars the entire day. I guess people took that whole, ‘don’t tip the server’ bit from Reservoir Dogs, a little too serious. I certainly missed my cook’s pay! That was dropped when they put me on the floor! But those dumb tourists wouldn’t get the last laugh!

Robberies happened quite often around town. Locals-gone-bad would rob unsuspecting tourists that would be stupid enough to keep a large assortment of money on them. Luckily, none of the employees at Wastin’ Away ever got robbed (knock on wood). I think maybe, just maybe, because the locals-gone-bad knew we really didn’t make much (certainly didn’t carry as much money on us as the dumb tourists did), they knew better than to bother us.

Averaging a night was all factoring what days, what shifts, the sections, and the seasons of the moment. The off-peak seasons weren’t great. Some nights, it was a ghost town. Peak-seasons were great. One night alone, I walked away with about $250 in my pocket. Most nights during peak season were around the $110 mark. The hours were a pain in the ass, though. There were many days I had to do a double (would open, look forward to leaving for the day, found out someone called-in, and then would be stuck with their shift).

When you worked in the back, you missed all the fun. Once you got on the floor, you would see the fun first-hand. And a good majority of that fun was witnessing the strange people that came by.

One guy got really drunk, went outside, and tried to get into the Wastin’ Away plane across from the restaurant. When he realized that he couldn’t take flight, he decided to piss from the deck into the water below. He was off-balanced and slipped into the water. I couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to swim in your own piss! The cops came by and fished him out of the water. A customer nearby told me afterward, what he caught the drunken guy said to the cops as they arrested him. “It’s five o five, somewhere!” Weird!

Another incident involved a woman that sat by herself, ordered Key West Pink Jumbo Shrimp. The second she got her order, she threw a handful of shrimp in the air, got up, and left the restaurant. Weird!

On occasion, there will be that oddball drunk that would actually talk to their drink, as if the drink itself was talking back to them. Weird!

The strangest of strange was when a male customer who was clearly a crossdresser (who named himself Marilyn Monroe) came in every so often. He was one of our regulars nobody liked to serve. All the girls were afraid of him. I didn’t mind him. I thought he added color to the place! And the conversations I’ve had with him were completely harmless. He just wanted someone to talk to, that was all. He freaked the girls out by saying he would go to cemeteries, grab the flowers from graves, come back, and hand the flowers to them. What was really strange about him wasn’t so much his attire (or even his approach to the other employees), but his behavior. I noticed one time, him scribbling all over his napkin, as follows:

They don’t talk to me. They need to talk to me. Why won’t they talk to me? They should talk me. They will talk to me.

Even I got a little freaked out. He finally got kicked out when he was caught going into the female restroom. Word has it; he got kicked out of all the other bars in the area for doing the same exact thing. Very weird!

By the time I got on the floor, all the waitresses/greeters/everyone in the entire place took notice of me. The one I was most interested in. The beautiful ketchup girl. Her name’s Lynn, and ever since I walked into Wastin’ Away five years ago (oh, geez, I forgot to mention, it has been five years now), I had been crushin’ on her. Ever since I saw her fill ketchup. For a moment, ketchup seemed sexy to me! In fact, I got a new slogan for Heinz. Ready for it? Drum roll, please!

Love at first sight.

Okay, kind of lame!

Anyway, Lynn had a reputation. A reputation most guys at Wastin’ Away warned me about. A reputation of taking your balls, squeezing them for dear life, and kicking them sideways for good measure, as one poor fella explained. I’ve heard she was a bat out of hell, and was unleashed simply because Hell couldn’t sustain her. There was a rumor floating around when I started that one of the male customers came in and asked if he could take two pictures of her. She asked him why. And he said, so he can have one picture in his room and another picture outside the street to attract more customers into the restaurant. The second he finished the word, restaurant, she kicked his balls so hard, I guess he needed stitches afterward.

I never understood why these rumors had surrounded her. The times I’ve worked with her on the floor, she seemed genuinely nice and sweet. We never talked on a personal level. But I never felt that badass evil presence all the guys proclaim she had. I’ve heard from Jess, one of the bartenders, that none of it was actually true. All the guys made that stuff up through the years because every guy that asked Lynn out would get the ‘cold Lynn treatment.’ I asked what that was. And the only response I got, “you’ll find out if you ever ask Lynn out on a date.” So I tested those waters. After all, Lynn was a nickname for a waterfall; she seemed as peaceful as one.

So one night, after we closed up shop, I went up to her and asked if she wanted to get a drink or something with me after work. She looked at me with her beautiful brown eyes and a sincere smile. She didn’t say anything. Just looked at me. She blinked a few times. It seemed as though she was considering it. She then looked down, put her hand in her pocket, grabbed a card, and handed the card to me. I looked at it and then looked at her. She then smiled, and walked to a nearby table with a washcloth, washing the surface of the table. I looked at the card that appeared to be a business card, and it read:

Not interested in dating right now, so thanks but no thanks – Lynn

I guess that was what the ‘Lynn cold treatment’ meant. I smiled. This card certainly wasn’t the badass imagery I had heard. But I admired it. It proved that she was a headstrong young woman that could hold her own. I should point out, neither one of us realized at that moment she handed the card to me, how significant we would be to each other. However, at the time, she thought I was just another asshole that wanted a piece of her.

I proved her wrong one day when I found her by herself in the break room, crying. We both had to open that day. I walked in; I could hear sniffling tears as her head was down on the table. I went up to her with concern and asked if she was all right. She looked up at me and wiped the tears off her cheeks. Her beautiful brown eyes were blue.

I offered her a hug. She took it. She got up and approached me. My arms were wide, and our bodies met. We hugged. Her body warmth felt good against mine. Our hug wasn’t the awkward kind. It was a real, serious-duty one. She pushed away from me, had a slight smile on her face, and looked straight at me. She then looked down, grabbed a card from her pocket, and handed it to me. I took it from her. She walked away and started doing those opening rituals every restaurant went through! I looked at the card, and it read:

I think I’ll take you up with that drink – Lynn

I must say, it had put a big o’ smile on my face! In fact, I had to read the card a few times just to make sure what I was reading was legit! She didn’t say much during our shift together. But she didn’t ignore me like she always had done before. I guess that counted for something, right?!

Once we got off, we walked out together. She asked me where we were going. I didn’t say anything at first. She took the hint that it was a surprise. Not sure if she liked surprises. This was really a first for both of us. What I had in mind was my spot. The spot that I never took anyone to before. I was taking her to my island if you will.

We sat next to each other on the beach. You could see everything. The lighthouse was straight ahead. You could see Wastin’ Away from a distance. The ripples in the water, and the sound they made. The beautiful palm trees and the wind that blew through the exotic branches, providing that soothing chhh sound. Everything about the area had a romantic Feng Shui about it. There was just something about it. I’ve had many sunsets at this very spot. I’ve tried other spots along the beach. Didn’t hold a candle to this exact spot.

“This is very beautiful. For how long I’ve lived here, I don’t think I’ve ever noticed how beautiful this place really is,” said Lynn. Lynn, with her sexy voice. Lynn, the beautiful.

“How long have you been here?” I asked. We both sat down next to each other on the beach. I had a couple of beers with me as we left Wastin’ Away. I gave her one. She popped the lid off the bottle and started drinking it. She gulped half of the bottle. She then told me her life story.

“My parents got divorced a while back. I stayed with my dad. He went through a Mosquito Coast period in his life, where he just wanted a new beginning. We lived in Georgia, and he just wanted to “getaway,” as he would say. So he booked. I went with him. Been here ever since. Ten years, I want to say.”

“I also wanted to getaway. Drove down here from Michigan five years ago. Been wasting away ever since,” I said. She smirked as I said, ‘wasting away.’ I think she caught the reference! Her smirk dissolved.

“So you probably want to know why I was a little misty earlier today, right?” she asked. I didn’t reply. I just sat there. My glance went back and forth from the beach to her. My ear was attentive.

“On top of my hours at Wastin’ Away, I also work at a retirement home. On top of that, I am going to school. My major is nursing. I wanted to do it all my life. No, wait; ummm…that’s a lie. For a short period of time, I wanted to be a coroner.” She giggled at that moment. I didn’t say anything. I had a feeling she wasn’t finished spilling her soul out.

“So here I am, working all these hours and sure, the money is good. But I just…I feel overwhelmed, you know? I feel…I feel lost. I don’t really like what I am doing at the retirement home. And because of that, I am unsure if I even want to continue with nursing. All I do is fake smiles and pretend to be happy. I do other things too, I guess. You know. I bowl. I go to the gym. I try to focus on other things. But it is just so hard. I have no time for friends or things I like to do. I don’t even have time for a relationship. That’s why I give all these cards away! It’s my way of telling the world, ‘I just can’t right now.’ I know what the other guys say about me. I look at it like this. No one bothers me. No attachments of any kind. And no hurt feelings later on, with, ‘well, you don’t spend enough time with me’.”

“But you wish things were different, though?” I asked. She slowly nodded her head.

“Once in a while, there comes a guy that shows a deep interest in me. And I just, I freak out! Most guys are assholes that just want to get into my pants. But once in a while, there is someone that wants more. But one thing I learned just working at Wastin’ Away, everyone wants something from someone no matter what. So what do you want? Huh? It’s very obvious you have a thing for me. The way you look at me. It’s nice someone shows respect as well as interest. But there is always a hidden agenda. So what’s yours?”

This caught me off guard. I really couldn’t think of anything. She sensed that. But she didn’t get up or anything. She just gulped down the rest of her beer.

“Friendship,” I replied.

“And nothing else?” she cleverly added.

Uh oh! This was a trap of being ‘just friends.’ And I would be lying if I told her all I wanted to be was ‘just friends.’ So now, the jig was up. I had to confess my intentions. And the best way to go about it was just being honest with her.

“I would be lying if I told you I wanted to be just friends. Truth is Lynn, I like you. Always have. Ever since I walked into that restaurant and saw you, I had a thing for you. And I remember that day vividly. The day you were filling ketchup bottles. Your hair was longer then. We never talked much, but yeah, I always had a thing for you, which is why I never approached any of the other girls.”

At that moment, she was actually blushing. But she didn’t interrupt me. Nor did she get up. Not once. The sun was still up.

“You said this was beautiful. All of this.” I pointed to the area, the sun, the beach, and the lighthouse.

“But the fact is: you are beautiful. And I am not saying that just to get in your pants, Lynn. I am saying that as sincere as possible. All the waitresses that work there…” I pointed at Wastin’ Away.

“…aren’t as beautiful as you. All the tourists that come in. Some are pretty. Sure. Yeah. But not beautiful. Not, ‘Lynn-beautiful.’ I wish there was a word to describe you. Beautiful just isn’t as adequate. But it’s the best I can come up with.”

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t even look at me. She looked away. She looked at the beach. Perhaps she was looking passed the beach. I continued.

“I don’t really know what you are going through. I work 40 hours at Wastin’ Away and spend the rest of the time here. I never went to school. My family hated me for it. But they visit me from time to time here. They see how well I am doing and how happy I am. I really didn’t think I would be here for very long, you know. But something just compelled me to stay. I always believed Wastin’ Away gave me luck. And here I am talking to the most beautiful and coolest woman on the planet!”

Once again, she looked away. Not sure if any of this registered. Not even sure if I was blowing it. The beginnings of a sunset emerged in the sky. It caught Lynn’s attention.

“I come here on my days off. There’s just something about the sunset. Something about the sending off of the day, and the prospects of the next day.”

She looked at me and smiled. Then she placed her head on my shoulder.

“It’s beautiful,” she said. That was the last thing we both said for a while. We let the sunset do the talking.

Once it got dark, she said something to me. It was actually quite surprising. She broke the silence. But it wasn’t an awkward silence. It was a comfortable silence. The sound of ripples in the water and the palm tree chhhh sound made the whole thing perfect. The circular light from the lighthouse was enchanting. But not as enchanting as Lynn. Beautiful Lynn.

“Soooo…what should I do?” she asked. She glanced at me as she said it.

“Do what makes you happy,” I replied.

That was the last thing we both said for a couple of hours. I think this was the first time in a long time for Lynn to be able to relax. She didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get home.

After about a couple of hours, she got up. I got the gist that it was time to go. I offered to walk her to her house. She took that offer, and without a card in hand! We both walked in silence. What else was there to say, really? The distance was about half a mile from where we were. As we got to the front of the door, she turned toward me and looked at me. The same look she gave me the first time she gave me the ‘Lynn cold treatment’ card. We were afoot from each other. I couldn’t help staring into her beautiful brown eyes. My heart was racing. Butterflies were in the pit of my stomach. I could feel them flapping their wings.

Lynn looked down, reached for a card from her back pocket, and handed it to me with a smile on her face.

“Uh, oh,” I thought! I took the card from her hand…and read it to myself…I motioned my lips as if I was reading it out loud.

This is the moment where you can kiss me now – Lynn

Before I could respond to her card, she laid one on me. It was…magical. It was…Fourth of July fireworks. It was…Christmas morning. It was…heaven on Earth. It was…simply put, wonderful in every sense of the word. My hand touched her smooth face. The kiss didn’t last long. She pulled away, making a smock noise. She smiled and then kissed me on the cheek.

“Goodnight,” she said.

“Goodnight,” I said.

She turned around, opened the front door, and went inside. She then turned toward me from inside, giving me one last look before closing the door.

“I just took your advice,” she said.

“And what’s that?” I asked, still dazed from the kiss.

“I just did what made me happy,” she said with a smile on her face. She then closed the door. I stared at the door for a moment or two. Then I walked back to the spot.

My spot.

My island.

A relationship was blossoming. But it blossomed very slowly. We both agreed to take things one step at a time. She still wanted to pursue her schooling, as well as continue with her second job. I supported her all the way. We saw each other whenever we had time. I never minded her busy schedule. If people wanted something very badly, they made it work. We both made it work. It had its complications like all relationships do. And yeah, there were some rocky moments, let me tell you. Trying to keep things a secret at work was one of them. But eventually, everyone found out, and everyone was okay with it. We became the cutest couple at Wastin’ Away.

As for me, I decided to get some bartending experience. The general manager pushed me once again to take up management. Maybe I was stalling. But I just didn’t feel I was ready. I was still on a mission, I suppose. And bartending was really the only thing left that I hadn’t done yet.

Bartending was by far the most fun of all the jobs I’ve had at Wastin’ Away; it was a lot more personal than waiting tables. It had such a Cocktail feel to it; it almost felt like a cliché in itself! The twirling of drinks. The different concoctions. And let’s not forget the customers themselves. Most people (if not all) that sat at the bar wanted to have a conversation with you. As a bartender, the tips did increase, but you often wondered if you should also be getting paid a therapist salary. Many people talked about their current divorce(s) they had or talked about considering getting a divorce (what was strange, the majority of those people that talked about such things, were on their vacation with their families and spouses). I didn’t mind the chitchat, really. When you lend an ear, the tips start comin’!

After about six months of bartending, I finally took the management position. About that time, Lynn was close to finishing with school. When she graduated, I proposed to her at our spot. It was very romantic to pop that important, life-changing question at the very spot we fell in love. It was no longer my spot; it was our spot.

Soon after the engagement, Hurricane Wilma hit. That was the year hurricanes tore the southern part of America to pieces. And that got me/Lynn thinking about relocating a little further up Florida. So I had asked if I could transfer to the Wastin’ Away store (restaurant lingo) in Orlando. The plus side in things, we were a little closer to Lynn’s family in Georgia.

Before we left, I wanted to see our spot one last time. Lynn and I saw our last sunset at the Keys together. Her head was against my shoulder, like the first night together in front of the sunset. She looked down, grabbed a card from her pocket, and handed it to me. I read it out loud.

I love you. – Lynn

We packed our things and headed to Orlando. I had heard all kinds of things about the Orlando Wastin’ Away. I heard it was quite different. It was attached to one of the theme parks in the area. We got there, walked inside Wastin’ Away. I took one big whiff and smelled the sea salt. The Wastin’ Away sea salt. The joint was slightly different, though. I couldn’t explain it well enough. Just felt different. I also didn’t care for the whole fast pace atmosphere outside Wastin’ Away. I am used to looking at the waters from the deck. Now I saw nothing but theme park land, everywhere!

Meh!

The management position was very different than anything I had ever done. The responsibility was huge. But I took it with great ease, and everyone was quite fond of me.

Lynn was doing great herself. She was starting her career in nursing and got a job at the Celebration Hospital (which was outside Disney property on 192 near the I-4 exit). We finally got married as soon as we were adjusted. My family came down from Michigan. Her family came down from Georgia. It was a bash like no other. And where did we have it? Where else but Wastin’ Away in Key West?!? It was a day to remember.

After I heard ‘you may kiss the bride,’ I laid one on her. Magical. Fourth of July fireworks. Christmas morning. Heaven on Earth. Wonderful in every sense of the word. From the first time we kissed to the present day, I still had that sense of being on cloud nine. I often wondered if she felt the same way. But being selfish as I was, I didn’t wish to ruin it for myself! We went to New Zealand for our honeymoon, and it was AWESOME! It was amazing what Middle Earth looked like in person!

After we got back to our normal routine in Orlando, I was getting restless. I didn’t mind the theme park life, but I missed the stillness of Key West. Lynn wasn’t really digging the hospital she was working for either. The reality was: Lynn also missed the Key West life. So we moved back. And luckily, I came right in time. The general manager ended up retiring, and I ended up taking the spot! WOW! And Lynn got a job at the local hospital.

All and all, we have a pretty good life. I remember a poster I saw once at school when I lived in Michigan. It had a picture of palm trees on it and some quote that made you think, “Wow, that’s inspiring!”

It read:

The poor long for riches.

The rich long for heaven.

But the wise desire tranquility.

I have found tranquility in Key West. I love the simplicity of being out in the sun all day without a care in the world: just relaxing. And I love my job! The sea scent got me every time. The silly tourists got me every time. The Beach Boys in the background got me every time. And Lynn. My beautiful Lynn. She got me every time.

The truth was, I’d rather be wastin’ away here than anywhere else in the world! When I was acquainted with people, and they had asked me (like clockwork) how I was doing, I’d always say, “livin’ the dream.” 99.9 percent of the time, they laughed. But I meant it. How many people on this rotating rock could say that with a straight face and meant it? Could you?

K.H.; January 31, 2011 – June 28, 2011.

#self written #wastin' away #short story #margaritaville #key west #love #black clouds & silver linings

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alatismeni-theitsa · 3 years

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I got an ask about stereotypes Greeks have for other Greeks but I don't think one person - me - is enough to answer it, so please help me guys!! Also, it goes without saying that mentioning the stereotypes (good or bad) doesn't mean I/we believe them! And whatever is mentioned here is not necessarily true.

So, what are some stereotypes Greeks have for other Greeks?

First of all I think most Greeks know that Greeks "eat" other Greeks and their own country. We don't uplift each other, we don't take care of the place we live in, and we are often jealous of our compatriots' success. We only shine in extremely difficult circumstances (when the brush meets the hair knot, as we say :p)

Some stuff I've heard about the North is that it's more polite and cosmopolitan in attitude. The southerners say the north is actually more Bulgarian and not that Greek in culture (which is a problematic statement for many reasons but well). For the residents of Thessaloniki I've heard saying they are more chill (the χαΛΛαρα attitude), but at the same time the Thessalonikies (women) are dressed very extravagantly even when they go out for a morning coffee. Northerners also tend to spend money more easily, even if they don't have it.

From the old times (early 20th century) there is the notion that Pontiac Greeks are "strange" (because they came from Minor Asia and their ways were a bit different) so I remember a time where a lot of jokes with Pontiacs were circulating where the punchline was them doing strange things (like drawing near them the piano instead of the seat). What I've noticed is that Pontiac Greeks are very passionate about keeping the Pontiac tradition and the memory of the Asian Greeks alive. I believe every Greek will agree that the Pontiac symbols and other cultural elements are known widely in Greece, and that's probably because of the efforts of the proud Pontiac people to retain their heritage to the present.

Igoumenitsa, Larissa, and Lamia are stereotypically shittowns according to many Greeks I've heard talking about them. (Sorryyyyy)

For the Vlachs I've heard they are more closed, more straightforward - and even impolite -, strict with money and try to get "fat out of a fly", meaning they try to gain money even in situations there's none. Due to family history and life circumstances I am biased to believe it's true 😂 (#notAllVlachs!!) The same stereotype for the attitude of Vlachs I've also noticed in central Greece. Many times being Vlach is stereotypically connected to the village life, low education and rudeness. A person who exhibits those characteristics you can call them a Vlach without them being one. (And let's not forget the Eleni Vlachaki character from the iconic Greek series)

Crete stereotypically is the Texas of Greece, with strong alcohol, religion, guns, goats, and old gender roles. The symbols of Crete are also widely known to the whole Greece and I'd say they keep the tradition alive with the same passion as the Pontiac Greeks.

For the people of Epirus I've heard some calling them Albanians (for the same reason the northerners are called Bulgarians), and some of the positive things the area's known for are pies, good cheese, life in mountains and good klarino players.

People in Patras (especially the uni students) party a lot and have tons of sex. In the Carnival period the craziest parade is happening there and lot's of people come... closer to each other with alcohol flowing.

Feel free to add more stereotypes you've heard for other Greeks! You don't have to believe them or support them! That's just for recording purposes!

#stereotypes #greek stereotypes #modern greece

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yixxes · 4 years

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Fast Car | p.p.

Warnings: Hints of alcohol abuse, promiscuity, broken household, angst kinda, swear words

Word count: 1752

Summary: You want to escape and Tom has a fast car, but things don’t always go according to plan.

“Leaving?”

You were never one to disrespect your mother or speak out of turn, but you were more than willing to fight her on this one. She was rushing down the hall as fast as she could in those loud, expensive red heels with you hot on her trail.

“What do you mean you’re leaving, where are you gonna go?”

The two of you stopped at the front door while she grabbed up her scarf and her coat. The look on her face threatened to break you down right then and there. She didn’t even look sad or remorseful, she just looked like she really waned to dart out the front door but was approaching her departure slowly as if delayed action would spare your feelings or make any of this hurt any less.

You racked your brain in a hurry, trying your best to figure out what the right thing to say was, but deep down, you already knew that your fight was lost. She hadn’t shown any signs of being interested in the small family that she had in months. She didn’t love your father anymore and she made that clear in the way that she fooled around with other men and didn’t even try to hide it, and you, she only paid attention to on the days where you’d talk her ear off until she felt she had no choice but to respond. Talking to her these days was the equivalence of talking to a bizarre friendly stranger.

“Oh, sweetheart,” her voice was eerily sweet as if explaining to you that she was walking out on you and your father was no big deal. “I know this is so out of the blue, but.. sometimes in life, you have to choose your own happiness, you have to put yourself first and decide not to worry about the people that try to hold you back.”

Ouch. You didn’t know if that number was directed towards you or your father. Or both.

“I don’t know where I’m going just yet, but I’ll call when I get there. I’m not gonna stop checking in on you, it’ll almost be like I never left.”

You shook your head, shoulders slumped and tears already welling up in your eyes. Maybe if you visibly showed her how much she was hurting you, she’d stay. Something inside of her would click and she’d apologize for being an unfaithful wife and an absent mother and she’d work really hard to make things right.

“Please don’t leave.”

Except this was reality and your mom didn’t care about anyone other than herself. She wasn’t sorry for anything and you couldn’t prompt feelings out of someone that didn’t have them.

Your mother smiled something that almost resembled regret. “I love you, sweetheart.” Almost.

“I really don’t wanna talk about it, okay?”

Not talking about the thing that weighed heavily on your mind only to have someone bring it up or ask if you were okay was actually the worst thing. Tom had good intentions, you knew, but this was your second time telling him to leave you be and he just wasn’t accepting that as an answer, but hey, that was the Tom Holland way.

Thomas Holland, your best friend since childhood. He knew you like the back of his hand and while things were damaged beyond repair at the moment on the home front, he always made your life so much better.

The two of you came from opposite sides of the tracks, but he never seemed to let the wealth of his family ruin his personality in the slightest. He stayed true to himself like a pro and really seemed rather put off by his lifestyle. You never understood it, but you never questioned him either. Much like your household, there were probably things about his that you just didn’t understand.

You did know, though, that something must’ve been really bad for him to climb aboard your wild fantasies of running away. When he started telling you that he would go with you, whenever and wherever you decided to go, the fantasies converted into real plans. You didn’t understand his desire to leave what he had and you didn’t think you ever would.

Tom picked you up for work in the morning in his brand new car; A gift from his parents for no particular occasion at all. If you understood correctly, he’d spent two short weeks in his parents’ ear about it and they bought it for him just yesterday. He was now the proud owner of the 1974 Pontiac Firebird, Buccaneer Red and it ran like a top.

You didn’t have time to express your excitement before he got to badgering you about what was wrong. He knew right when he saw you that something wasn’t right (you had spent the rest of the night crying and looking after your father after all) and he wanted to help but you didn’t want his help. There wasn’t anything that he could do.

“Okay, fine,” was what he said, but you knew that you’d be shrugging him off about it again later.

Tom moved the conversation on to talking about running away, casual yet relevant seeing that it’d be a lot easier to get away in a car rather than on foot. With all that had happened last night, running away was far down on the list of things that were on your mind and it’d more than likely stay that way for a long time. Your mom didn’t just leave you last night, she also left your father who hadn’t stopped acting like a blubbering, depressed drunk since your mom’s behavior began to change earlier in the year. He had a problem and while it wasn’t directly resulting in anything physical or abusive, you couldn’t just leave him alone. He needed to get help and you seriously doubted that he’d be doing that alone.

“What do you mean?” You were sitting in the car with him in front of the diner, watching him progressively get more frustrated at how aloof and disconnected you seemed about the entire thing. You weren’t giving him the responses he wanted and you weren’t even presenting a valid reason as to why not. “It’s a great time, I’ve got the car, I’ll get us some cash, we can-”

“Jesus, Tom, no, okay? Why can’t you just take no for an answer for once?”

There was so much room to be way nicer but the family crisis plus your two whole hours of sleep that you got did not equal patience and smiles. A sharp, annoyed breath passed your lips and you grabbed your bag, opening the passenger side door and sliding out quickly.

“Thanks for the ride.” You grumbled, pushing the door closed and turning to start towards the front door of the diner.

You heard him say ‘no’ behind you followed by the sound of his door closing and you whirled around, willing yourself to think over your next few words carefully. You could be really hostile under these circumstances.

“This doesn’t make any sense, getting out of this town is all that you ever talk about and now I find a way to make it happen and you completely turn me down!”

“Tom, get back in the stupid car and go, I could not be more serious.”

“It’s not stupid, it’s cool, I thought you’d be happy for me!” Your words hurt him, but you were too far gone thinking about everything else to take it back.

“I am happy for you but I don’t need this right now, okay, I just wanna be alone!”

“Tell me what we’re missing, what are you so worried about, it’ll all work out if you let me-”

“No, Tom!” You practically shrieked. “It won’t work out, the stupid plan doesn’t need to work out, why do you even wanna leave!? Your life is something that other people could only dream of, you have everything, there isn’t anything wrong with your life, you’re just a poor little rich boy who wants to know struggle so bad that he creates fake problems that’ll validate some stupid runaway plan!”

There they were. The most hurtful words you’d ever say to your very best friend, painfully present and hanging in the air. The look on his face told you that it was much too late to take it back. The damage had already been done. Tom got back in his car and peeled off.

“Hi, Mrs. Holland, um, is Tom here, I- I really have to talk to him,” Your body was almost as tired as your mind was, your feet were hurting and all you wanted was to go home and crawl into bed but you couldn’t sleep tonight knowing that he was probably so angry with you and probably hurting because of you, too. You had to make things right, or you had to at least try.

“Oh, honey, right now isn’t a good time, he’s gone to bed early tonight, he’s still very upset.”

Your head fell in shame and you brought your hands together in front of you. “Yeah, I know, I’m..” you picked your head up to look her in the eyes. “It’s all my fault, but I was really hoping that I could-”

“Your fault?” She questioned with confusion evident in her voice. “Oh, no, honey, why would it be your fault? He’s been digging his heels in ever since we told him he’d be going to boarding school next year, says he doesn’t wanna go, but we really think that-”

“Boarding school?” you repeated warily. There was a lot going on in your life that was making your thoughts fuzzy but you definitely didn’t remember him saying anything to you about boarding school.

“Didn’t he tell you?” Her tone was patient yet cautious.

You shook your head numbly, hoping with everything in you that this boarding school was somewhere nearby.

“Sweetheart, Thomas was accepted to Western Reserve Academy.”

Your head was spinning so much thought you were going to fall out right there on their porch. “Western Reserve...” An involuntary gasp cut your sentence in two and you could feel your blood running cold. “Wh-where is Western Reserve Academy?”

She looked at you with sad eyes and you knew that her answer was gonna hit you like a ton of bricks. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what she was about to say.

“It’s in Ohio, up north in the US.”

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker #mcu imagine #mcu #avengers imagine #avengers

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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2002 (trixya) - pinkgrapefruit

trixie plays guitar, katya is charming and also sells records.

[or, boston, no. 4]

A/N - consider a comment - it means the world. ALSO I AM OPEN TO TIME PERIODS AND SITUATIONS!

When you run a record store in the age of CDs you get the same customers. They become routine, like clockwork - the same way you open at 11 am and shut at 9 pm and drink your coffee black and your whisky on the rocks. It’s not that Katya disliked the routine - quite the opposite in fact, she just didn’t like that she, her job and her business had all become rather predictable.

They scraped by on open mic nights and the sheet music stand and the vintage guitars that hummed in a way that delighted Katya to no end. No, she did not hate the routine.

This does not, however, mean she wasn’t incredibly excited to see a new girl peering through the window as she opened one morning. She was blonde, tall and held a hardshell guitar case in one hand as her breath clouded the window.

Katya pulls the door open with a loud squeak as it pushes her homemade felt doorstop back with it. Holding the doorframe she flings her head round the door in time to collide with the blonde’s freckled face.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” comes a muffled twang. Katya pulls herself back into the shop and lets go of the door frame, stepping out this time and coming face to face with the girl she just assaulted. She smiles, half apologetic half reassuring.

“It’s my fault, come in,” She responds, guiding the stranger into the store and watching as she spins around in awe. Katya loves music, loves the shop - she’s glad someone else does too.

“I’m Trixie,” The stranger announces, hand out to shake but Katya’s always been a hugger and has no plans to stop now.

“Katya, what brings you to my shop?”

Trixie sets her guitar down gently against one of the sheet music cabinets and tucks her hair behind her ears. “I’m a singer,” she states, softly, “I play the guitar and my new EP just came out. I really want it on vinyl.” Katya feels a grin spread across her face.

“I’ll have to check my newest delivery for you.” She hurries into the stockroom, the light flickering a few times before it holds. Trixie hears a couple of loud noises and a few muffled curse words before the woman comes back through the door - shutting it with her heel. Katya looks a little defeated. “I promise I’ll order it in for you,” She says without quite saying she doesn’t have it because she has a funny feeling that if she sees the full weight of disappointment pulling on Trixie’s features she’ll be on a wild goose chase around Boston to find a copy. “Come back soon?”

Trixie smiles brightly and nods. “Definitely.”

Katya likes her routine but maybe she sort of likes the chaotic schedule of Trixie’s visits. The woman sneaks by whenever she gets chance whether it’s to grab a coffee at 8 am before a radio gig or at 8 pm before hitting the stage at a bar.

“What brought you to music?” Asks Katya, entranced with the way Trixie’s hair tumbles from her shoulder like the vines of the strawberry plant on her fire-escape.

“I was a journalist for a while - a feminist publication trying to overhaul the patriarchy,” Trixie responds, fingers leafing through Joni Mitchell records. “I started reporting music, Dolly Parton, to be exact, and ended up here.” She chuckles, tilting her head towards Katya who can suddenly see the resemblance to Trixie’s obvious idols.

“How very lesbian of you.” She freezes after she says it - missing the way Trixie’s lips quirk up into a smile. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to overst- “ Katya scrambles, trying to cover her tracks, smooth the wrinkles.

“You’re right. Very gay.”

Katya is pretty sure she could get high off Trixie’s smile.

“What’s your favourite coffee?”

“Black.”

“Like your soul.”

“How very rude my dear Tracey.”

One morning, at 11 am on the dot, Trixie skids into the shop - face red and breath heavy. “Katya, Katya,” She calls through the shop and the woman’s head pops up from behind a row of jazz sheets.

“Yes my dear,” replies Katya, trying to keep her face neutral but failing immediately. SHe’s smiling by the end of the response.

“RUPAUL WANTS TO SIGN ME!” She screams at the top of her lungs, awakening the ginger tabby cat that snoozes on a box labelled ‘for HR’. Katya runs towards her, straight down the middle aisle of records and pushes Trixie back into the door frame. She takes her face in both hands, palms heated by the blush spreading under her freckles.

“I am so proud of you,” She says with one hundred percent sincerity. “You deserve this.”

Katya then licks Trixie’s nose. Trixie pushes her away immediately.

“I’ve got some other good news you know,” Katya tacks on with a smile, the other woman practically vibrating with happiness. “Guess what’s in my car.” She grabs the car keys off the counter and Trixies nearest free hand and drags them both out the door and across the street.

“Oooh, Pontiac… Trans Am?” Exclaims Trixie once she’s free to move on her own, Katya busy unlocking the boot and rifling through several boxes of records.

“How did you know?” She asks, poking her head up for a second, eyebrow raised.

Trixie laughs at the expression, hand trailing along the exterior of the burnt orange vehicle. “My grandpa taught me to fix them when I was young.”

“Well, she’s my phoenix, my firebird.”There’s a triumphant sound as Katya holds up a cellophane-wrapped record. Trixie whoops in response.

“You’re my hero,” She giggles, feigning swooning as she receives the record. She holds it gently in her hands, turning it over and over and over to see every inch of the cover.

“Do you want to play it?” Asks Katya, cautiously - knowing it might be too sacred.

“Lead the way.”

The record whirrs for a second before coming to life, the glittery pink of the vinyl a dizzying starscape on the turntable. Katya reads the back of the packet and hums in satisfaction as ‘Hello, Goodbye, Hello’ crackles to life.

Trixie holds out her hands to dance, Katya takes them.

#rpdr fanfiction #trixya #katya zamolodchikova #trixie mattel #workplace romance #2002 #record shop #probably inaccurate #I wasn't alive in 2002 #and ive never been to boston #pinkgrapefruit #concrit welcome

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romancandlemagazine · 4 years

Text

An Interview with John Lurie

Whilst most humanoids struggle to master even one useful skill in life, John Lurie is one of those adept rapscallions who can seemingly turn their hand to pretty much anything — from acting to angling.

This knack has led to a fairly stacked C.V. which involves such notable achievements as forming a rule-flouting jazz band called The Lounge Lizards, appearing in films like Down by Law, Paris, Texas and Wild at Heart and showing his paintings in exhibitions all over the planet.

And if all that wasn’t enough, he’s also hosted his own fishing show, and, with the help of Dennis Hopper, once came particularly close to snagging the elusive giant squid.

Here’s what he had to say about fishing, New York in the '70s and the importance of humour in the world...

First question… your television programme Fishing with John is mint. How did that come about?

I was threatening to do it for a long time, but wasn’t really serious. I would go fishing with Willem and we would video tape it. I flew out one New Year’s Eve to play with Tom Waits and the next day we went and fished with Stephen Torton video taping it.

This woman, Debra Brown, saw the tapes, home movies actually, and brought them to a Japanese company that was looking to get involved in things in New York.

She came back to me and said they wanted to make a pilot. I believe my response was, "Are you kidding?"

When you watch a film or television program, you only see the end result. What was it like filming that thing? Were there any mad struggles?

If you see something good, you can just assume there were mad struggles. If you see something bad, you can assume that people were too lazy to take on the mad struggles.

If I am flicking through the channels looking for a movie, I can tell you in five seconds if a movie is going to be any good by the sound of the door closing or the light or the music or whatever.

Why do you think people love fishing so much?

First off, so we can go to these beautiful places and pretend to be doing something. We wouldn’t go if there were nothing to do. And there is that visceral thing. A big fish on the line is like that exhilarating sports thing, like hitting a baseball perfectly or shooting a basket and the net just goes swish.

And then there is that thing of the world of mystery, right next to the world we are living in. What is in there? We are only going to be aware of what is there with a hook and a nylon string.

So of course we have to drag this amazing creature out of the water and kill it because human beings are pretty much ridiculous. The last bit is not why we love fishing, it’s just an observation.

I’d say it’s a pretty sharp observation. Did you ever face anger from the fishing community due to the lack of more conventional fishing?

Yes.

Why isn’t more television like Fishing with John? I hear we’re supposedly in the age of ‘peak TV’ or whatever, but why is there so much boring stuff out there?

The great thing about this, and a big shout out to Kenji Okabe from Telecom Japan, was they left me alone. I am fairly certain that the reason Breaking Bad was so great was because they left Vince Gilligan alone.

With most projects there are all these people meddling with what you do, to ruin it. The Gatekeepers. It is almost like there is a conspiracy to maintain mediocrity.

Going back a bit now, am I right in saying you’re from Minneapolis originally. What were you into as a child?

At first, dinosaurs and archeology. Then reptiles, particularly snakes after we moved to New Orleans. I was going to open my own snake farm. Then I was pretty sure one day, I would play center field for the Yankees.

An attainable dream. You moved to New York in the late 70s, and not long after, you started The Lounge Lizards. It seems like New York at that time is glamourized a bit now, but what was it like for you? What food did you eat? Where did you go at night? What streets were good to walk down? What did it smell like?

I was trying to remember the food I ate back then and couldn’t remember. I was pretty broke most of the time. They used to serve hors d’oevres at gallery openings and cheese became a large part of my regular diet.

Almost every night, or maybe not even “almost” — more like every night — we went to the Mudd Club. More than what streets were “good” to walk down, I can tell you which streets were bad to go down. I lived on East Third St across from the Men’s Shelter, so my block smelled of rotting garbage and urine.

What are some bits that people don’t talk about from that time? What sucked about back then?

It went fairly quickly from people having more relentless fun than any period in human history to a fairly grim time, a year or two later. There was the beginning of AIDs. I had many friends who were dying or horrifyingly sick. People were getting strung out. There were many deaths. Car accidents. People fell out of windows.

Also, with the artistic promise that was there, the output is disappointing. I suppose the wildness led to a lack of discipline and the work wasn’t nearly as good as it should have been.

I might be wrong, but it seems like at that time people just did what they felt like doing… people made films, music or anything else, with no regard for budget. I suppose for example, you made a film called Men in Orbit in your apartment for $500. Where did this freedom come from?

The freedom came from a ferocious demand to have that freedom at any cost. But it is odd or sad, because the more talented of those people seem to have gone unknown and the people who are now household names are, mostly, the ones who played the game by the rules from the beginning.

Do you think people nowadays get too hung up on money? Or perhaps too hung up on success?

I think people nowadays for the most part are quite lost and afraid. So they do whatever they think they must do to have a successful career, even if it means that they are making shit — and it usually does mean they are making shit.

The Lounge Lizard’s album, Voice of Chunk is an amazing record. What sort of stuff were you listening to when you made that? And who is Bob the Bob?

The listening came from earlier in my life. Evan and I would devour everything. From Stravinsky to Monk to Little Walter to Coltrane to Tibetan music to Ellington to Dolphy to Pigmy music (you get the idea).

Later, when working on my own stuff, I stopped listening to pretty much everything. Though when I was in Morocco doing Last Temptation, I played a lot with Gnawa musicians that shifted me a bit. And around that time Evan discovered Piazzolla.

Bob the Bob is Kazu from Blonde Redhead. That is her mouth on the cover of the record. I still call her Bob.

You’re a prolific painter. Are there certain things that you notice recurring in your paintings?

I live on a small Caribbean island. There are flowers everywhere. I don’t like to think that they influence what I paint but they do. Fucking flowers.

A lot of people paint when they’re young, then stop. Why do you think that is? How come you didn’t stop?

The best paintings I have seen in the last 30 years or so are the ones taped to refrigerators. I don’t know why people stop painting or when they don't stop, why the painting gets so stiff.

I am sure my mother, who painted herself and taught art in Liverpool where the Beatles went, but not at the same time, had something to do with me keeping a freedom in my work. To not be afraid of that childlike dream thing.

Though it has been suggested that it may be time for me to get in touch with my “inner adult.”

How do you know when a painting is finished?

I ask Nesrin. If she says it is finished, I know it isn’t.

You seem like a pretty funny guy. Do you think humour is sometimes underrated? Do people take stuff too seriously sometime?

I think humor is immensely important. I think humor can shift society’s consciousness in a better way than almost anything else. So from Shakespeare to Mark Twain to Lenny Bruce to Richard Pryor and many more - these people shifted things for the better.

Do you know who was president when Mark Twain was at his peak? Benjamin Harrison. Who the fuck was Benjamin Harrison?

What are your thoughts on the internet? It seems like it’s a big thing these days.

I get so disappointed with people because I feel like social media could be an enormously positive thing for the world. And I certainly don’t mean to exclude humor, just I have heard enough fart jokes for one lifetime…

Something that bothers me quite a bit, is a star athlete gets hurt and then the response on places like twitter is close to joy. What kind of bitterness about your own life would make you behave like that?

You’ve just recently released a new Marvin Pontiac album after 17 years. This one is called The Asylum Tapes, and was reportedly made on a four track recorder in a mental institution. Back story aside, what made you want to make an album again?

I have Advanced Lyme, so I was unable to play anything for a long time. Actually because of what was happening to me neurologically, I couldn’t even hear music for the first few years — it was more like fingernails on a blackboard.

As I slowly got better, I was able to play guitar and harmonica again, though playing saxophone would seem to be done for me in this life.

But I am very proud of this album and hope people get a chance to hear it. I made it to cheer people up.

Are people still confused about who Marvin Pontiac is?

I suppose so. He is a character I created to make this music. I suppose that is bad marketing, but fuck it.

Would the album be different if it was a John Lurie album? Do you feel like you can get away with more stuff as Marvin Pontiac? Or maybe what I mean is, is it easier to say some things as Marvin Pontiac?

Yes, absolutely. Marvin gives me a certain freedom. I doubt I would put out a record where I sing about a bear saying, “Smell my sandwich.” But I’m happy that I get a chance to do that.

The lyrics are pretty straight up and direct. Do you sit and stew on songs and ideas for long, or do you just get it out?

Often they just come straight up. Like 'My Bear To Cross' I pretty much just came up with it live in the studio. Some took quite a while. And there are a couple where I never found the right lyrics to finish off a song and put them aside.

Okay, last question… do you think a lot of stuff is too over-thought and over-prepared? Does thinking sometimes get in the way?

Let me think about that.

#John Lurie #Lounge Lizards #New York #Jazz #Interviews

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truestory1929 · 4 years

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April 9th 2020

Final Blog 1979 to 1983 Emerson and Mary leaving the nest. After 1983 our house just went along just like everybody else!

Left to right back, Jamie, Me, Dad, Rita, front left, Emerson and Dorothy. This pic was just after we met our Father for the first time in 15 years!

THE FINAL BLOG! April 9th 2020

1979 to 1983

Emerson's leaving and Mary is moving in!

Well here we are January 1979, my oldest son brother Emerson is halfway through grade 12 and wondering what to do in June when he graduates. Emerson took Motor Mechanics in High School this trade is still with him today, saved him tons of money, but he never took it up as a career. We had rules in our house about education. First; education was more important than sports, two; you can live with us as long as you continue your education as long as you are progressing, this does not mean spending three years in grade 12, third and last; when the education is over, you live with us rent free for one year, get a job, save money for an apartment and move out. Otherwise we believe without these rules [ and we saw enough of it] your parents will charge you a small rental fee,then you will take your excess money and buy a fancy sport's car with big payments,and a big insurance bill and now go no where fast. This might be called tough love today. Especially because the average age of moving out is about 27 years old if you are lucky.

David joined T-ball last year, and Jason joined this year. Sports was not at the top of our list for raising kids. I only played back yard sports. We had a ball field out by the Saint John airport where the car rental company is now. We played a lot of flys and grounders, scrub etc. Pat Riley and Jim Daly both hitch hiked to the south end of Saint John and played Little League. We played pond hockey on Treadwell Lake. I really did love sports but because of my situation I just did not get there. I am not feeling sorry for myself, its just the way it was.The first year I was at my foster home, the boys in Johnson's road talked me into joining school boy hockey. I had no equipment and The Wood's [ my foster parents] where not interested in helping me. I bought old time hockey equipment from the Merzetti's.[ who owned Mutal Jobbing on Douglas avenue] You could use google today and find this hockey equipment from the 50's. Leather helmet, leather pants and size 10 skates when I was a size 8. I loved it, but hitchhiking to Simonds Centennial Arena in the dead of winter was brutal. I played about 10 games. I did not even know what an off side was and I would be standing down in front of the other teams net waiting for the puck before my team mate was across the blue line. After a couple of games I caught on after all the the screaming and yelling from the coach and the players. Its funny now to think back on this stuff. Murray Sewell was responsible for my kids getting into sports. Murray had his t-ball team practicing in the Glen Falls play ground [which was next door to our house]so David went over to see what was going on. He got David throwing the ball and Murray was impressed. Like in the Chevy movie "BING0" this guy could throw a ball voila sports was born into the Reynolds Family.Jean was a good athlete, basically a tom boy until she was 16 years old, then yahoo, the most beautiful girl I ever met, a real lady, dainty, sweet, kind, loving, supportive [ and I mean supportive, I had a lot of crazy ideas and she went along with them eventually]. She was always being picked to be on someone's team at he Allison grounds in Rockwood Court. So its in [watch for the pun] the Jeans! lol

Now lets go back to the Merzetti's. In my first year with my foster parents, Marion and Fred Woods, Jim Merzetti asked me if I wanted to make some extra money stocking shelves at Mutal Jobbing. Well sure I was always looking for ways to make money. I use to walk the ditches with Jimmy Daly for pop and beer bottles and we we an empty 50 lb burlap bag. We would take them Berry's store across from the airport and cash them in. Pile winter wood for neighbours, run errants for the neighbors, fish trout through the ice and sell them and even cut trees down from other people's land and sell them for christmas trees. We just got inside the door and this elderly gentleman walked in. MR. Merzetti who own the business introduced him to me, his name was Havelock Lane. Tall slim man very nice. Three years later after Jean and I started dating, she introduced me to her grandparents Havelock and Genavieve Lane! Yep, same guy!

Emerson graduated yahoo, big milestone for any Reynolds to graduate.You know I never said this before,I hated our last name, I swore I was going to change my name when I grew up. We used to get "ren-hole" because we we so dirty and so poor, an I'm sure we were stinky. How do you bath in the winter and wash clothes when I filled the washer up every morning to supply water for Mom for the day out of Treadwell Lake? I remember when I graduated I thought I died and went to heaven! Emerson decided to go to NBCC and Take the one year plumbing course. We were very proud of him wanting to continue his education. This will make the fourth Reynolds to go to NBCC. Myself, Dorothy and Jamie also graduated from NBCC. He passed in flying colors. He never took up Motor mechanics or plumbing as a career trade, but has saved himself lots of money doing both. Who really knows what you want to do for a living for the rest of your life? Every person I know [and I know a lot of people] are not doing what they thought they might do after the education is over with one exception, My son David, he knew he wanted to be a Doctor in grade 6. Emerson had done many jobs, each jog shaping his skills and shaping his well being. He has found his niche in Ventilation, he is at the top of his game, he is in upper managment, he creates multi-million dollar bids for his company, he is well respected in his company and his field of expertise! Emerson never took us up on the offer to stay rent free for a year. NBCC let him graduate early as he had a job with Bob Duplussis Plumbing company. Moved out and into his own apartment on Michael Crescent all by the time of his 21st birthday on June 5th 1980. Emerson lived with us for 7 years. He is my oldest son, he is a big brother to my three sons. It was a hell of a run Em!

Ben now has got into the sports world He joined t-ball this year. Jean is trying to get her drivers licence. Jean is very nervous about theses things. She is now 30 years old. I work shift work so I am not around to drive the kids to their sports for every game. We are going nuts, we have friends and neighbours helping us with driving to and from ball and hockey venues. Kudos to the Sewell's, Goguens, Allaby's, Carson's, White's, Mclaughlin's, Hutchinson's, Doiron's, Stevens, and many more for helping with picking up and delivering our kids to and from the rinks and ball fields. I was driving a 1974 Pontiac Lemans at the time. Big car, Jean failed two road tests up to this point. The car was too big for parallel parking , combine that with Jean's nerves it was useless. Okay new plan, I called rent-a-wreck to see if I could rent a small car for her to take road test. They said no [remember no speaker phone] as their insurance only covers the driver. I said okay, [I never told Jean the whole conversation] come on Jean we are going to get a small car for you. I told her she could sit in our the car until I got the rental car, I was not making any mistakes about blowing my scam. I rented an AMC pacer, nice and small, easy to parallel park etc. I left my car in the parking lot and drove home, we already had the appointment made. Jean said she would need to take a valium to calm her nerves just before we leave. The road test was in the West Side Motor vehicle. Now the examiner always asked for the permit and car registation. The registration was just a photo copy. In these AMC pacers they hasd a tray that ran the entire width of the car under the dash. So I told Jean that it was just laying under the glove box where he could see it, praying that he would not pick it up. Remember Jean has no idea that this whole thing is illegal. Well she took the test and passed in flying colors. Yahoo Jean has her licence, I told Jean the whole story after we got home. The colr drained from her face.

Okay, we are starting to finish chapters and start a new one. David finally gets his own room at 9 years old after Emerson moved out. We asked him how he wanted his room done. He wanted wallpaper with the old vintage airplanes, De Havilland's etc. We bought him a Captains bed and painted the room. That was one happy kid yahoo! Well the yahoo did not last long. Around Christmas time we got a call from Jean's mother who was living in Montreal at the time. We had just got settled in bed for the night, its was around midnight when the phone rang. We turned on the bedroom lights and Jean proceeded to talk to her mother. No speaker phone then, but I gathered it was Vera. Jean hung up and said her mother was crying and broken hearted. I asked her what was the matter and she said that Mary needed a place to stay until she graduated from high school.[ Quebec passed a new law that year requiring all students to finish their education in French only. Mary was taking hairdressing. Bill 101 was enacted on August 26, 1977. The bill basically was made to ensure the Province of Quebec became totally French speaking only. The top jobs at the time were held by English speaking Canadians. Bill 101 was to make schooling in French only up to high school. All signages were to be in French only. Then in 1980 they decided that the high schools were to be French only too. Mary needed to move back to Saint John to finish high school.] Jean said her mom wanted us to talk it over and call her back tommorrow. I told Jean call your mom back right now. You were the one who decided to take in Emerson for me. If you said no it was no. Now it is my turn, we are taking her in. Jean called Vera back and told her we would take care of Mary, and that was that. Now we have to tell David that he will have to move back in the laundry room for at least three years. Poor David, as sad as he was he never complained, he went about his business as usual. He might have said something to his brothers but not us? Mary was in grade eleven and will be going to Saint John Vocational School. Something I forgot to say about Emerson, he did a lot of babysitting, he made his own money as he was a member of the Miltia since he was 16 years old, and bought us very nice gifts [Thanks Em] Okay now, Mary was the same, she helped Jean around the house, she baby sat and made life for us as easy as possible. Mary was 17 years old when she moved in.

Well Mary graduated in flying colors in June 1982. Mary decided that she really did not want to be a hairdresser. Jean was working at the Top of the Town restaurant. This was located on Main st. on the roof of Keddys Hotel. I talked to the superviser of the down stairs coffee shop and dining room off the main hotel lobby and was able to talk her into hiring Mary as a cashier. She eventually became a waittress. Jean introduced Tony Kane to Mary. Tony was working in the banquet department. The next year I got her an apartment in east Saint John and her and Tony moved in together. Mary moved out the end of September 1983. Before she moved out I got Mary to teach me how to cut hair.[ I just cut Jeans hair yesterday as we are quarantined]. David is now 12, Jason is 11 and Ben is 6. cutting their hair became another job for me for years to come. Emerson was getting married on Oct 8 1983. I was the best man at the wedding. It was a blast. When we got home we found our house was in shambles. Some one broke into our home and ransacked the place, stole our stereo system and all my 8mm home movies from 1979 to 1983, Christmases, birthday, sporting events etc. We were heart broken. You never really get over something like that. It was like somebody tearing your heart out.

Well David gets his room back again, he is now 12 years old. You are a good man David.We have been married now for 13 years Dec 12, 1983. We started this journey moving people into our home in 1973, two and half years after we were married. We were married December 12 1970. We will be married 50 years this December. We were going to go on a cruise, but we think in lieu of what is happening right now with the coronavirus that cruising is out for a long time for us. We have no desire to even fly overseas. We will stick to North America thank you very much!

This will be my last blog, hope you guys found something that interested you. I can't sign out before I mention the foster parents. May of 1967 I went to Fred and Marion Wood on Johnson Road, where I grew up with their youngest son Gerald. He introduced me to motorcycles, he would let me ride all of them, he had 4 different bikes in my time there. I never had an older brother so now I do. Gerald or Woody which he prefer, we still bike around today. Dorothy and Emerson went to the Donnie and Jean Armstrong's, god bless them they 7 kids of their own. Jamie went to the Baxters Len and Mertle, who had at least 8 kids of their own.[The Baxters and the Armstrongs lived across from each other on the Loch Lomond road beside the Norris road.] Then Emerson went to the Morris's, and Dorothy went to the Websters. Then Emerson went back to the Armstrongs and then to me and Jean May 9th 1973. So from May 1967 to May 1973 Emerson moved 4 times in 6 years. Dorothy then went to Godin's and then to our place on Cooks Lake road off the Norris Road in August 1975 to attend NBCC. We lived in a small house we were renting from Dawn and Vince Dempsey. They were our Landlord and Landlady for our first 7 years of our marriage. After Dorothy graduated she and her boyfriend, John Sullivan, got an apartment on the Loch Lomond Road. People can say all they want about foster parents, some good stuff and some bad stuff. Without them, where would we be today. Mr amd Mrs. Wood taught me every thing I know. learned manners, building, [ I used all the tools to build an addition on the back of their house. which launched me into the Oil Refinery], I learned how to plAy chess, learned how to play a guitar etc. We had three square meals a day, we were warm, were clothed, we had it all. Yes we were separated, yes the love was not the same as we got from mom. But man, these people took us into their homes and took care of us. We were backward, dirty, angry, at times just plain bad, neglected, dressed in rags, if you can think of it that was us, but they took us in anyway, GOD BLESS YOU ALL!

I wanted my grandchildren to have some history about their grandparents and their parents. I knew nothing about my grandparents, little about my aunts and uncles, cousins etc. They all lived in Nova Scotia. The only relatives that came to see us was Mom's parents Fred and Margie Hayter, they came in 1961 a year after Dad left, just for the day, and my Aunt Goldie in the late 70's at Todd Street in Glen falls. I started this project in the fall of 2013, I do not know where the time goes.I was going to quit a few times, I stopped writing for a while, but my grandkids urged me to finish. At times it seemed that I was just whining or feeling sorry for myself or sometimes it just made me sad. Thanks you for urging me on, it was good therapy for me, it made me realize how lucky we are, to have the family we have and all the good people I have met and all the things we have done! I am a lucky man to be so rich with LOVE!

I never thought I would live long enough to receive an old age check, we have been getting it three years now. Its great to be a Canadian. After living in USA for the last several winters you know how lucky you are. They do not have free health care [ I know what you are thinking its not free , we paid high income tax compared to the Americans but that was a good thing, just ask an American.] and we have the Old Age check. They do not have this. They have social security, which is based the same as our Canada Pension Plan, a working persons pension. [ notice I did not say working man's pension lol]. Our old age check is an awesome bonus. Canadians do not contribute financially to it, you only need to be 65 years old,and be a Canadian citizen for 5 years. Yahoo. I hope you all get to collect it someday.

We will continue to quarantine ourselves after our mandatory quarantine on April 15th. We may be carriers so we do not want to pass anything on to you. We will continue the 6 feet or 2 meters social distancing,and we will wear a mask when we are out. We will visit out in the yards at your place or ours for the good of all of us! We love you all very much!

Your grandparents Nana and Papa! oxoxoxoxoxoxoxo see you soon!

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sumxiyx-blog · 6 years

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Who is Dwight Schrute???

Dwight Schrute is one of the main characters and he is played by Rainn Wilson. Dwight Schrute is a beet farmer who is very loyal to Michael Scott and Dunder Mifflin. He lives on his family's 60-acre beet farm, in a nine-bedroom farmhouse with his cousin Mose, who is played by one of the writer of The Office. They grow beets which they give to local stores. Dwight runs a Bed and Breakfast, which Jim and Pam have even stayed at.Dwight is the "Assistant to the Regional Manager" in selling paper, even though he has no social skills or common sense. His love interest in the show is, Angela Martin (an accountant). He likes to watch Battlestar Galactica, Harry Potter, Star Wars, and Game of Thrones. He also likes paintball, survivalism and weapons. Dwight is a volunteer sheriff's deputy, and always makes it a big deal even though it’s not a real job and he’s just volunteering. In an episode where Michael and his girlfriend have a big fight, the police come and Dwight immediately approached them and they said, “Not now Dwight”. He drives a 1987 Pontiac Trans Am which he’s very proud of, he even has a police siren that he puts on top of his car (the cops have caught him doing it). Dwight also does tae kwon do and has been doing it for years. He keeps multiple weapons around the office such as pepper spray, nunchucks, throwing stars, a stun gun, a boomerang, handcuffs, a nightstick, a pair of brass knuckles and a Chinese sword. It has always seemed unnecessary to have all these weapons but he has ended up saving Jim from getting punched in the face by pepper spraying the attacker. Dwight is a very interesting character, he acts like he is superior and smart but in reality he is very gullible. One of his dream is becoming Regional Manager of Dunder Mifflin Scranton. I think he is probably my favorite character since he always stays himself and never stops doing the crazy things he gets in trouble for. He is an intense person who loves farming, selling paper, and using weapons. I love how loyal he is to Michael even though Michael is annoyed by his presence. Its hilarious how gullible he is. Jim has pranked him multiple times throughout the show and he falls for every one of them. Well tune in next week because i’ll be talking about Jim Halpert, another amazing character!!!

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rileyrooin · 6 years

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Tour of Mythicality Meet and Greet

Below the cut, you will find my Tour of Mythicality Meet and Greet tale. Be warned: contains way too many inconsequential details, navel-gazing, and possibly some slight evidence of my ongoing crush on Rhett. You have been warned.

After the show, all of us with VIP tickets milled around for a bit, waiting for further instructions. A woman who worked for the venue barked out orders regarding where we should stand to wait for Rhett and Link to join us for the meet and greet. (To be fair, a woman passed out after the Q&A finished. The woman from the venue was trying to get us out of the way so the EMTs could get her out safely before any of the meeting and greeting could begin.)

Eventually, Rhett and Link emerged from backstage and the line began to move. As each person moved forward to have their moment with the guys, the space was filled with Rhett’s laughter. He seemed like he was in his element: genuinely enjoying himself while meeting fans. Link laughed, too, but there’s just something about Rhett’s laugh that can’t be explained. (C’mon… we all understand the power of the McLaughlin Laugh.)

As you can imagine, I was the picture of cool while we waited… Yeah, right. I did my best to distract myself from the anxiety churning in my stomach: I texted @summer-mclaughlin and @mythicallyvi. I applied lip gloss. I munched on mints. I took random photos. I applied more lip gloss.

Eventually, our group made it to the front of the line. I watched all of our Tumblr VIP crew successfully meet them. There were lots of hugs, conversations, laughter, and huge smiles. Okay, I can do this, I told myself.

When it was time for @missingparentheses to meet them, I was armed with my phone so I could record her gifting the boys their lunar deed. As I started recording, Link waved at the camera. You can see that wave in the video MP posted. It’s so freakin’ adorable (not that I’ve watched it several times). You might think that having Link Neal hamming it up for your camera would make you more nervous. It was the opposite for me. In that little wave, I recognized the adorable dork of a man from GMM. He wasn’t anyone intimidating; he was simply someone who makes me laugh daily.

Finally, it was my turn. I felt confident as I walked over. Link asked my name and I told him in a clear voice. Then, I got a hug from him. It was wonderful, but I was distracted because Rhett was right there. I could see him over Link’s shoulder, smiling and waiting. It’s not exactly a mystery how I feel about him, so being seconds from embracing him? Well, let’s just say that Link didn't exactly have my full attention (sorry, Link). I approached Rhett; it felt like I was moving in slow motion. He smiled at me as he met my eyes. With a pounding heart, I stepped forward into a hug. I can't tell you what this hug felt like because I was too busy trying to smell him for some of y’all (and for myself, too; let's be honest). The only descriptive word I came up with for his scent was: heavenly. (Nailed it, Riley!)

As I pulled away from our brief embrace, I mentally prepared myself to tell them how thankful I am that GMM has led to friendships with so many wonderful people. I knew it wasn’t the most original of conversational ideas, but it was safe. The chances of me messing that up were slim. I reminded myself to stick to my plan as my husband shook Rhett’s hand. When Rhett turned his attention back to me, I took a deep breath, ready to launch into my undoubtedly forgettable comments. But, before I could, he completely disarmed me by speaking the following words, “Hey, now, I recognize you. You tweet at us sometimes.”

Any plans went out the window as my brain went into overdrive. I let out a noise similar to this:

I desperately tried to remember how words worked. “Uh, yeah, tweeting? Um. Yes. I guess I do that once in awhile.” At that point, I was a blushing, babbling mess. I willed myself to stop talking. In an effort to shut myself up, I focused my eyes on Godzilla on Link’s shirt.

Except that plan didn’t work, either. It was then that Link bent down and craned his neck so I was forced to meet his eyes. The eye contact was brief, but so intense. I’m not sure how else to describe it. “So, what did you think of the show?” He smiled at me in what I'm sure he thought was a comforting way, but the combination of those eyes and that smile only served to make me even more flustered. I remember thinking, “Wow! His eyes really are that blue! They’re just so beautiful. Oh, hell, he asked me a question. Answer it!”

“It was so great!” I said these words far too loudly and eagerly. Link’s smile grew and he laughed a little.

At that point, my husband tried to rescue the situation by saying something to Link about the show being entertaining, but then Rhett pulled my attention back to him once again.

“So, remind me of your Twitter handle again.”

My personal Twitter handle is one I've had for eons (it used to be my AIM username, too). It’s ridiculously juvenile and embarrassing. I told him, while blushing more and insisting that I was planning to change it. (N.B. This is true. I’ve since updated it to something more fitting for someone who is ostensibly an adult.)

It was clear then that any plans I had for conversation topics were out the window. And that’s when I started babbling at them about being a former owner of a Pontiac Aztek. They took it in stride, making jokes about the car and time travel. Their jokes and laughter put me at ease again. Their laughter is infectious. They made me feel like we’d been friends for years. Finally, as the moment for our picture arrived, I started to feel comfortable.

My husband and I were sandwiched in the middle for the picture. I was on Rhett’s side (of course). His arm was around me, his hand resting on my waist. Link’s hand perched on my husband’s shoulder. I only know these details because I have the photographic evidence. I was in such a daze by then that I wasn’t aware of anything happening. After a few pictures, my husband (bless his heart) asked if he could get a picture of just me with the guys.

As we set up for that picture, I was VERY aware of Rhett's hand on my waist. And Link's hand on my shoulder. Whereas before I was too dazed to take in any of those details, I was suddenly hyper aware of everything. Link’s hand on my shoulder was firm. Rhett’s fingers on my waist felt impossibly large and strong. I could feel each knitted row of The Mustard Sweater under my left hand. And under my right, Rhett’s plaid shirt.

Rhett’s shirt is so soft.

The muscles of his back are really firm.

Far too late, my brain caught up with the fact that I was rubbing small circles on Rhett's back with my thumb. I can only hope that these touches were imperceptible to him. Or, perhaps he took it as me simply adjusting my hand on his back. Either way, I quickly stopped practically petting him in time to smile and pose for our picture.

I received another quick hug from each of them, and then the meeting was done. I joined up with the others, and we left to find a place to eat, drink, and commiserate over our experiences.

Since then, my brain has replayed the meeting over and over. Aside from the fact that I continue to be awkward, there are a few things I took away from this opportunity. Watching them interact with their fans was truly heartwarming. This observation is nothing novel, but they really do appreciate their fans. When they speak to you, their attention is all on you. They make you feel like whatever you're saying to them is important. Yes, even when you're babbling about Pontiac Azteks instead of telling them how much you love their creative works or appreciate their ability to draw people together.

Mostly, though, it’s made me realize just how glad I am that these two (and all of you) have become such an integral part of my life. I am proud to call myself a Mythical Beast. 💗💗💗

(For reasons of anonymity, I’m not posting my pictures here. Just imagine a pale woman in between two towering tanned men.)

#mythical weekend #tour of mythicality #vip experience #meet and greet #chicago #i am a walking awkward situation #i love this fandom

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blinkerfluidcars-blog · 6 years

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Dear Ford, Don’t Forget the Drivers

Pictured above is my ‘14 Focus ST, the first (and only) new car I’ve ever purchased.

Welcome

First of all, welcome to BlinkerFluid, and thanks for taking the time to check it out. For a long time, I’ve wanted to start some sort of car-centric social media whosamuhwhatsit, with a nice balance of substance and humor (hence the page name), and I finally took the jump. I hope you enjoy it. This first post turned out to be a mini-book, but I needed to get it off my chest after Ford’s recent announcement. After all, it’s what finally got me off my butt and up to the keyboard to write for you fine folks.

I got a bit of shock the other day when, before I’d rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, I came across a post someone shared in an ST Facebook group I joined. Ford announced that it was axing every car in its North American lineup, except for the Mustang. Of course Ford can’t kill the Mustang, and they shouldn’t. They’re axing the cars in the lineup to expand the offerings of crossovers, SUVs, and trucks. I also read that a second car would remain, or rather it would be brought to the American market from Ford’s product lineup in China. They call it the Focus Active. I understand it’s more of a mini-crossover than an actual car. Will there be an ST variant of the Focus Active for the real drivers? One that would replace the current ST? Since Ford plans to offer an Explorer ST, I’d say the chances are good. But will the car be good? It will certainly be taller, which doesn’t help when it comes to performance. Right now it’s hard to say if the car can be worthy of the ST name, but Ford has a lot of questions to answer. And seriously, an Explorer ST? Yeah, there’s a track ready driver’s car. Let’s see how many pennies we can squeeze out of this ST thing before we kill it. And here I thought autonomous cars were the closest threat to drivers’ cars.

Will the real drivers please stand up

So what do I mean by the real drivers? Well, it’s simple really...and if you’re spending your valuable time by reading this, odds are you might be one too. I believe that there are two types of drivers: Drivers and Commuters. Drivers are the glorious misfits like you and me who enjoy the sport of the drive. We get behind the wheel for the fun of the drive, not the destination. We take the long way home to get those few extra minutes on the road (or off). We relish that connection between man and machine. When we’re not behind the wheel, we think about being behind the wheel. We watch Smokey and the Bandit, and the Cannonball Run, and yet another Fastest/Furious movie. Why? Because Vroom. That’s why. And we’re a damn proud bunch.

Then there are commuters. Commuters aren’t bad people, but they just don’t get us drivers. “Why spend all that money on a car?” “Why customize a car?” Commuters climb into a car to get from point A to point B. That’s it. They drive a stock Toyota Camry with mismatched hubcaps. *Shudders thinking about hubcaps*. They drive a car like they use a washing machine. Why? Because a vehicle is really nothing more than an appliance to them. I have to give Motor Trend the credit for that comparison, having read a number of articles where they compare the Camrys/Accords of the world to being automotive appliances. Just soulless.

What is being lost exactly...

I’m going to focus (the pun really isn’t intended) on the ST/RS vehicles. When Ford launched the Focus ST in 2013, and later the Fiesta ST, they demonstrated that they understood the drivers. A vehicle that offers ONLY a manual transmission? There’s the mark of a real driver’s car if ever there was one. YOU WILL NEVER SEE A COMMUTER DRIVE A MANUAL. EVER. And the STs were affordable. Affordability was what drove the original 1964 1/2 Mustang to such enormous success. The ST was launched at exactly the right time, too. Can you imagine if the previous generation Focus had been given the launch of the ST? That car was hideous.

The Focus ST is a fabulous car. It’s quick, fun, and always feels like it’s ready for more action. There’s a slew of other things I love about my car. Although I can’t speak from experience, I understand the Fiesta ST is also an excellent car. The Focus RS is in another league, and it’s a highly respected track car. When Ford offered these cars, it demonstrated that it understood there was a market of drivers who were looking for sport in something other than a Mustang. I’m not targeting the Mustang in the least, but it’s influenced to fit the desires of a wide range of buyers. You see, sometimes commuters fancy themselves enjoying a sports car. Good for them. You can see that influence in the Mustang: Auto transmissions are very common, the cars are a bit hefty with some optimization for commuting, and the price tag can climb pretty quickly with the wide range of optional equipment and features. You don’t see that influence bleed over into the STs and RS. You have colors and several trim packages from which to choose and that’s about it. Why? Becuase in this market, cusomization is huge, and creature comforts and little gizmos aren’t the primary concern. That money is better spent in the aftermarket realm.

The timing for the ST/RS cars was right because then CEO Alan Mulally, the man who deserves every bit of credit he received for saving Ford, brought over the long-desired European Focus that American drivers actually wanted. His philosophy was straightforward: build the best damn car because that’s what the customers want. It involved globalizing the Ford product line and using its strengths from each geographical market to produce the best cars (and cut costs drastically). If you get the chance, I recommend reading “American Icon” by Bryce Hoffman. It’s got a slight feel of being Ford propaganda, but the company gave the author unprecedented access that revealed how close the company was to total collapse, and what it took to save it.

Let me get to the point

Ford’s recent announcement feels like they’ve forgotten Mulally’s philosophy. And their deep-rooted history in racing. Just look at the Henry Ford II/Carroll Shelby fight to defeat Ferrari in the 1960s at Le Mans (read Go Like Hell, by AJ Baime). The decision feels like an affront to those of us who would have remained loyal to the ST/RS brand. It feels like the company’s primary goal is to make money, not cars. Let me be clear: I know the company needs to make money, and take care of the stockholders, and bla bla bla. I get that. And I don’t like to brag, but I own literally tens of dollars worth of Ford stock. I’m sobbing into some Jacksons as I write this.

What bothers me is that the move to an almost entirely crossover, SUV, and truck lineup is a decision that was driven by the hoards of commuters who flock mindlessly to dealer showrooms demanding such utilitarian vehicles. But here’s the thing: Commuters are flaky. They want the trendy, shiny object, regardless of what it is, and regardless of the brand. They buy their cars like they buy paper plates. They consider them disposable. The case is not so with drivers. But we are on the losing end, because we will never be a majority in the buyers’ market.

History repeats?

What really grinds my gears about this whole ordeal is that according to one article I read, Ford is cutting billions of dollars from its engineering budget. It’s unclear whehter they’re moving the investment away from engineering, or if they’re saving that much by cutting the cars. But if they plan to add models that don’t currently exist, I don’t see how they’re going to do that without investing in the engineering budget. They must not have long memories in Ford’s boardroom, because the Big 3 nearly went extinct when the economy tanked in the late 2000s. Ford, GM, and Chrysler had been neglecting what was important (the customers) for decades, and the cars they were building (with some exceptions) reflected the lack of investment the companies made in them. They were in the money business, not the car business.

The only reason Ford didn’t have to take a bailout was because they finally woke up and saw the disaster looming (losing billions of dollars each quarter). The other 2 had to declare bankruptcy and were actually owned by the U.S. government for a while. Part of the price that GM had to pay was killing some of its brands in an effort to cut costs. The long-neglected (and recently resurgent) Pontiac was killed and it was a damn shame. Just as the G8 was launched. And yet Buick survived. The only reason Buick survived was because it was making serious money in China, it sure as hell wasn’t making that much off of Grandma and Grandpa back here in the states. Either way, Buick was making money now, and that was the ticket to live. It didn’t matter that Pontiac had a bright future.

In response to Ford’s recent announcement, GM says that it remains committed to cars, whatever that means. They’re all a bunch of appliances, minus the Camaro/Corvette. Good appliances, but appliances nonetheless. I'd love to see a Cruze SS, I think it could be a really great car. Dodge showed serious potential with the Dart, but killed it before it really had a chance to solidify itself in the small car market. An SRT Dart could have been killer! I love the Challengers, but like the Mustang, they're heavy, and expensive. Committed to cars or not, it seems all 3 American automakers are far more focused on building utilities and pickups. Even Mazda has moved away from its long and rich history of building driver's cars to building cars aimed at the commuter market.

I finally got to the point

Unfortunately, it appears that the bean-counting has begun again, at least at Ford. And as a true-blue Ford man, I am so disappointed in that. I’m not stupid, I know the company has to make money. A small, sad, soulless part of me almost admires how bold the move is...I just don’t like what that move is. So the big question for me is, will the Focus ST survive, when the new model arrives from Ford’s China lineup, and will it be any good? I sure hope so, but right now I’m just waiting on answers. Meanwhile, the drivers who came to Ford for the ST and RS are already eyeballing other brands for their next ride. Brands that will continue to offer true driver’s cars.

I didn’t write this inaugural post to bash Ford, by any means. I wrote it to make a point...that the drivers of the world shouldn’t be forgotten. We aren’t all racecar drivers, but driving is a sport for us, nonetheless. And that matters, plain and simple. As I develop this blog and add more writers, I plan for it to be about all things cars. Stories, photos, fun, whatever.

Thanks for reading!

#ford #st #focus #drivers #drive #cars #gm #chrysler #blinkerfluid

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dominionra · 3 years

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DOMINION Real Estate Advisors Brokers $23.3M sale of Ultimate Soccer Arenas to United Wholesale Mortgage (UWM)

Bingham Farms, MI., January 2020 - DOMINION Real Estate Advisors (DRA) Brokers $23.3M sale of the Ultimate Soccer Arena’s in Pontiac, MI to mortgage giant, United Wholesale Mortgage (UWM). UWM purchased the property late last month through an affiliated entity in order to expand its multi-building sprawling Pontiac MI campus, which has now reached nearly 2.0M SF. The property, located at 867 South Blvd E, is a 378,399 SF multi-purpose facility situated on 33 acres. The building features several very large clear span insulated metal (Varco Pruden) buildings and an existing 2 – story, 32,000 office building. The office component will be substantially expanded to accommodate more than 2,000 new employees for UWM in 2021, while continuing to serve as a sports and activity complex for its growing team and at the same time will remain open to the public for youth and adult soccer and lacrosse. The Detroit Medical Center (DMC) also has Physical Therapy treatment centers on site which it expects to continue to operate.

The facility will be renamed the UWM Sports Complex. Historically, the facility has welcomed 1.3 million athletes and family visitors each year since it was developed in 2007 as one of the regions premier indoor/outdoor sports complexes by its founder and developer George Derderian. Mr. Derderian stated “I am thrilled that our real estate team found the right buyer in UWM. They are an exceptional company, with exceptional leadership and they will use the building to accommodate their expansion, while also allowing me to continue to provide Oakland County with first class sports programming.

UWM, president & CEO, Mat Ishbia also stated “While we are excited for the ability to purchase this facility to expand our campus and the unique amenities it provides to our growing 7000+ team members, I’m also very proud that we will be able to continue to welcome youth soccer and lacrosse in support of the kids in our community.”

Eric Banks and Sean Jamian of Dominion Real Estate Advisors (DRA) coordinated the sale and leaseback between the Seller, Ultimate Soccer Arena’s LLC and the Buyer, Pontiac Center East LLC.

To read more about this deal on RE Journals:https://rejournals.com/dominion-real-estate-advisors-close-23-million-sale-of-soccer-arena-in-pontiac/

To read more about this property on Crains:

Article published on 11/12/20 - https://www.crainsdetroit.com/real-estate/united-wholesale-mortgage-buy-ultimate-soccer-arenas-another-campus-expansion-pontiac

Article published on 2/18/20 - https://www.crainsdetroit.com/voices-kirk-pinho/real-estate-insider-ultimate-soccer-arenas-pontiac-sale-284-million

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/company/dominionra/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/dominion_realestateadvisors/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/dominionra/

#press

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shellacninja-blog · 6 years

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Boards of Canada - The Campfire Headphase [Albums I Like]

I walk. It's raining. As I move through my home town, the derelict ornateness is overtaken gradually by an infestation of trees and grass. Cars still drive past with an aggressive howl, and planes still rocket overhead, but nature has claimed this land. I find a solitary bench under a tree, the only one not covered with scattered raindrops. I sit down, and Sherbet Head plays. It took me three years of listening to The Campfire Headphase to realise that no, that's not a forest on the cover, it's a beach. I chalk my mistake up to [a] youth and the lack of attention to detail one has in it, [b] the green tint and smudges, and [c] because this album sounds like a representation of nature in the Western world. Most Western woodland in the 21st century has been claimed and built upon by man - I am surrounded by statues in my green sanctuary, many dedicated to monarchs, while some are war memorials - but has been, and is, treated with respect by most. Even if technology is present, and sculpting much of the present world, there is still beauty we did not sculpt, beauty we could never create or replicate via synthesis. Boards of Canada are an electronic band that have made electronic music with electronic instruments and techniques. The Campfire Headphase is the only album where they provide a spotlight for quote-on-quote traditional instruments (mainly guitar). It's soft, tender and almost devoid of any human presence, unlike their previous work which featured several spoken word samples and clips of children laughing. That's probably why the comparison is so easy for me to make. The first four songs, excluding Into The Rainbow Vein (a pretty, lo-fi synth that is an example of BOC's short tracks, one of the few of their trademarks they brought over from 2001's Geogaddi), all have lead melodies performed on guitar. Chromakey Dreamcoat's rickety, old-timey intro forms the basis for the entire song, which eventually evolves into a lush synth soundscape as the BOC brothers slowly add layers onto the track until it collapses under its own wait, quickly slowing to a stop. A red squirrel just jumped past me. Peacock Tail, one of the album's standouts, hides faint African percussion and handclaps behind soothing, sweeping ambient textures. If the rhythm section wasn't the glue that held BOC together before, it certainly is now. Without the percussion the majority of the tracks feature, they would turn into Eno-esque ambient pieces. While that's no means a bad thing, nor something the duo doesn't do (the last two songs forgo drums), it adds an edge to songs that otherwise would be smooth and restrained. IDM's influence from hip hop was never more apparent than with these guys, and the rhythm section is the last reminder of that on this record. Hey Saturday Sun's melancholy guitars and synth flow over an undercurrent of a sinister bassline that seems to slow down the funkiness of similar riffs on older songs like Aquarius. Slow This Bird Down's glitched drum machine makes it, somehow, sound influenced by trap before it was even a thing. The record may sound similar when taken as a whole, but BOC's attention to detail - you know, the one I was lacking the three years before I reaaaaally looked at this album's cover - is ever present. They have a reputation for putting stuff in their songs you barely even notice unless you really pay attention; their complexity is subtle in their composition yet very noticeable in their production. '84 Pontiac Dream carries the same chords throughout but introduces a new idea almost every thirty seconds to express that progression. Oscar See Through Red Eye, the most electronic track on the album, again uses the same chord progression throughout but has several different melodies, often being performed at the same time. Try and count how many. I would, but I'm writing a review right now. I love how this album is such a cohesive and consistent sounding record but when you really analyse the songs they're all very different. The unrecognized complexity of these two's music is insane. I wouldn't even be surprised if each album's correspondence to the additive primary colours is intentional. In the context of Boards' discography this is a strange spot. When juxtaposed with their previous release, Geogaddi (more on that one later), The Campfire Headphase is much less dark and instead looks to optimism. Satellite Anthem Icarus is wistful and yet chooses not to adopt the melancholic nature of the nostalgia it aims to be the soundtrack to. While the album may take the peace and love attitude too far in places - single Dayvan Cowboy is an overrated excursion in stoner soft-rock - it's nice to see that this album is fuelled by light rather than terror, as Geogaddi was. The Campfire Headphase is a great album. It's easily the most gentle and steady release in the IDM genre, right when its original wave of popularity was fizzling out. Much like Farewell Fire fades into quiet dormancy, BOC put out a companion EP to this album and then...disappeared. For years. Of course, we know now this album was not BOC's final statement, but if it was, it would've been an ending to be proud of, and that's why I like this album.

FAVOURITE TRACKS: SATELLITE ANTHEM ICARUS, PEACOCK TAIL, ‘84 PONTIAC DREAM, OSCAR SEE THROUGH RED EYE

FURTHER LISTENING:

Trans Canada Highway is the obvious choice, seeing as it featured Dayvan Cowboy and is effectively the companion EP to this release. Some really good stuff in this package - everything that isn’t called Dayvan Cowboy is essential BOC listening.

BOC albums had a tradition, until their hiatus, of including exclusive bonus tracks in Japan, and this record is no exception. Macquarie Ridge is little-known outside of diehard fans, and that’s a massive shame. It’s great.

The only track released between this album and their next, the radically different Tomorrow’s Harvest, is Seven Forty Seven. Another fan favourite; it sounds like Campfire being remixed by Kevin Shields.

Next post: the SINGERS review I keep putting off.

Back to the masterpost?

#boards of canada #idm #downtempo #trip hop #autechre #warp #the campfire headphase #geogaddi #music has the right to children

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junker-town · 3 years

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When MLB’s best team also blew a 12-run lead

Here’s what it was like to watch one of baseball’s biggest comebacks ... from the wrong side

I am a Mariners fan, which has led to many bad sports nights. The worst began with Dave Burba slopping what I can only assume was his take on a cut fastball a few inches off the plate away. Ichiro was at bat, Mark McLemore on deck, the twilight was falling on a beautiful Ohio evening, and the Cleveland Indians were hosting the 80-31 Seattle Mariners.

I’d never seen the Mariners on television before. I moved to Seattle when I was 10 and was a boring enough child to fall in love with baseball after my first visit to the Kingdome. Thanks to the vagaries of cable, however, I had to follow my team via radio and once-yearly excursions to the ballpark. That’s not necessarily a bad thing when you have Dave Neihaus guiding you through your favorite team’s golden age*, but it did leave me starved for non-aural baseball.

*As it turns out, 1995-2003 was also the Mariners’ only non-fecal age.

So starved, in fact, every time Seattle made it to a national broadcast, I would try to watch. And every time, for literally years, I’d get notified that, so sorry, your game has been blacked out. Until, suddenly, on Aug. 5, 2001, it worked. I was baffled by this turn of events, of course, but decided to take it as a note of benevolence from a higher power, and settled in to watch.

Pitch number two was in more or less the same place as Burba’s first offering. Three was an 84-mph fastball down the middle that Ichiro apparently thought would be too embarrassing to hit, a decision which cost him when he was called out on strikes a few pitches later. So far so bad, a younger, more innocent me must have thought.

The 2001 Indians were a good team and could pitch. A little bit. Bartolo Colon was in his intimidating pomp, and the arrival of rookie left-hander C.C. Sabathia helped give their rotation a one-two punch which was entirely irrelevant when Burba (or anyone else — Cleveland essentially ran a AAA rotation beyond the big two) was on the mound. At his best, Burba was slightly better than pure filler, but at 34 he was no longer at his best, and he was going up against a Mariners team that was set to absolutely torch him. Now he was up against Mark McLemore, who struck out too. Then Edgar Martinez chopped out to third.

If you follow baseball, you’re probably aware of this game, at least tangentially. And therefore you’re aware that this was something more disastrous than what was threatened in the top of the first: a mediocre pitcher chewing his way through a very good lineup. That’s a bad day, but not a traumatic one. Four batters into the game, when Kenny Lofton cracked a ground ball single back through the box, and hard, I feared a bad day. How disappointing it would be to have my first televised Mariners experience be a frustrating loss!

Aaron Sele wriggled his way out of the bottom of the first, which gives me a good opportunity to drop in this still from a between-innings commercial:

I think Pontiac would have been proud of how they’ve shaped modern society.

The Mariners scored four times in the top of the second. Two ill-considered dives produced a pair of hustle doubles, sandwiched around a Mike Cameron blast which bounced off the wall but would have gone about 20 rows deep if he’d been hitting the 2019 baseball. Ichiro then plated a pair with a delicate lob to left. Seattle was rolling, and I was happy.

I was still happier after the third. That inning went something like this:

Single Single Single Double Single Single Hit By Pitch Sacrifice Fly Walk Error Single Strikeout Lineout

It was worth eight runs and took the score to 12-0. No baseball team in 75 years had come back from a 12-run deficit. The Indians, who’d already been beaten twice at home by Seattle that weekend and were starting to look in trouble in the AL Central race, were staring at a blowout. No baseball team in 75 years had come back from a 12-run deficit.

Then one did. This game is in the record books as the greatest comeback of all time, the one in which Cleveland clawed their way back from a ludicrous deficit to win the game in extras. Blowing a 12-run lead over any length of time is difficult enough, but the sheer scope of the Mariners’ collapse is extraordinary. The teams each scored two runs in the middle innings, leaving the score at 14-2 during the seventh-inning stretch. The Indians had to compress history (and, for me, misery) into three innings.

They did so without the heart of their fearsome batting order. By the time the comeback began, both lineups had seen a slew of changes. Ichiro, Martinez, and Olerud were on the bench, as were Alomar, Juan Gonzalez, and Ellis Burks. The only really dangerous bats left available to either team were Jim Thome and Bret Boone, and the latter had been given the day off anyway. Despite the two clubs sending seven hitters to the 2001 MLB All-Star game, only Mike Cameron played the full 11 innings of what was to prove one of the most memorable games of the decade.

Anyway. By the middle of the seventh, I was in a pretty good mood. I was getting to watch (not listen!) to one of the greatest teams of all time kick the ever-loving shit out of some pretty capable opposition, and although it was a little annoying that most of the big bats were out of the game, all the Mariners needed to do to ensure my evening finished happily was not blow a 12-run lead.

AN ASIDE: Whatever happened to this dude? Did we lose him during our difficult transition to being a civilization of Mango Freaks?

END ASIDE

Through six innings, Sele had given up six hits, a walk, and two runs. Russell Branyan, on for Burks, greeted him with a screaming line drive into the right centre field seats. 14-3. The comeback was on. Only, it didn’t really look it. Two batters later and the Indians needed 11 runs to tie the game, and had seven outs to do it. Solo home runs weren’t going to do it.

If we had to pick a turning point, the plate appearance which made all that followed possible, it might be Lofton’s walk. With two outs, Einar Diaz smacked a two-hopper up the middle and well out of Carlos Guillen’s reach, but Sele was still cruising and quickly got Lofton 0-2 thanks to a generous called strike and a foul ball. One more strike would have sent the Indians into the eighth inning in an (even more) impossible hole. Sele threw exactly zero more strikes.

Lofton took four straight fastballs away. None of them were close. Omar Vizquel followed that up with a four-pitch walk, and suddenly Sele, who averaged just 2.1 walks per nine innings for the entire 2001 season, had walked the bases loaded. The clouds were gathering. Lou Piniella seeded them further by going to blowout specialist John Halama.

Halama, part of the return for Randy Johnson in 1998, was a terrible pitcher, AAA no-hitter aside. He somehow logged 110 innings for the 2001 Mariners, which is remarkable considering he didn’t strike anyone out and got absolutely blitzed by opposing hitters. The ‘01 Mariners had one of the strongest bullpens ever assembled, headlined by Kazuhiro Sasaki, Arthur Rhodes, and Jeff Nelson. Even the best bullpens, however, have their fair share of dreck. With an 11-run cushion and someone named Jolbert Cabrera at the plate, dreck should have been fine.

It was not fine. Cabrera took a big swing on a changeup away, and yanked the ball into left. That fooled Martin, who froze, took a step backwards and then charged in, allowing the ball to drop a step or two in front of him. Two runs would score, and the seventh inning ultimately ended, 14-5.

The Mariners’ bats seem to have considered their job done. After the fifth, they went a combined 3-18, with three singles. Having scored 14 runs in that early blitz, they quite reasonably went into cruise control. They’d never come back out.

Meanwhile, the Indians were treating Halama like a piñata. Thome, whose two-run home run in the fourth got Cleveland on the board, flipped a 2-1 “fastball” into the left field corner for another homer. 14-6. Marty Cordova joined him in the home run parade after a Branyan hit-by-pitch — 14-8. Suddenly the game was within reach, and after a pair of singles Halama was done. Norm Charlton was called in from the pen.

Charlton wasn’t one of the big three Mariners relievers, but he wasn’t bad either, and Piniella would have been expecting him to hold down a six-run lead even in a tricky spot. He probably should have, too. Vizquel was jammed on a 95-mph fastball away, but he somehow kept it fair and the ball looped down the left field line for a double and a 14-9 score. The Mariners then got a break in this breakless of games — Lofton misread a ball which bounced off Tom Lampkin’s right leg and was thrown out trying to score, which allowed Charlton to escape to the ninth with a five-run lead.

I didn’t yet know to be nervous. Eighteen years ago, the Seattle Mariners were not the Seattle Mariners™. They had not yet become the unbridled force for misery which has shaped the way I look at sports. Their playoff drought was zero years. They had reached the ALCS in 2000, they would again in 2001. They were phenomenal, and I expected them to win more or less whenever they played, whatever the situation. And when they lost ... well, that happened. I suppose. Infrequently.

Ed Taubensee led off the bottom of the ninth with a single. With Thome and Branyan next up, the situation looked perilous, but Charlton made quick work of them. Two outs, down five, and a runner on first? That should have been game over. Then the wheels really came off.

I hadn’t watched this inning since I saw the calamity unfold live, but it’s seared into my memory regardless. Cordova absolutely crushed a pitch off the left-field wall to knock Charlton out of the game. Nelson was summoned. He got Wil Cordero to 3-2, then struck him out looking on a wicked slider:

Well, he should have struck him out with that slider. Instead was called ball four. Missed calls have been more egregious, of course, but this one had a profound effect on my young psyche, for six pitches later Nelson himself was knocked out of the game by a line drive into left off Diaz’s bat — 14-11. Suddenly it was a save situation, and it was clear to teenage me that something had gone terribly wrong.

I was ‘watching’ with my hands over my eyes as Lofton scooched a single past David Bell to bring up the go-ahead run in Vizquel. Not a soul in Jacobs Field was sitting down. This was it. Sasaki started Vizquel off with a splitter that he swung over for strike one. A second splitter followed, well out of the zone. The battle would end up lasting some time.

Baseball is a sport devoted to tension. Stress is the soul of the game and has been since the foul-ball rules were finalized. In a sport with a clock, key moments are just that: moments. They come, they go, they are finished with and done in a flash. Baseball stretches its moments and its fans to a breaking point. I am reliably informed that during Vizquel’s at-bat I was having what looked like a small seizure. All I really remember is the creeping horror, every pitch promising redemption or catastrophe but only serving to prolong the moment and ratchet up the stress.

Sasaki’s fifth pitch to Vizquel was a 91-mph fastball down the middle and at the knees, called a ball for reasons I suspect are related to the will of some malevolent deity. Pitch six was just about fouled off, an emergency swing sending a splitter trickling off behind home plate. Pitch seven was popped into the stands on the third base side. And then pitch eight was guided by the despotic hand of fate onto the label of Vizquel’s bat.

The subsequent weak grounder was perfectly placed, right down the first base line. Ed Sprague was a) playing in and b) not John Olerud, so his desperate dive ended in failure. Lofton was 34, and not as fast as he once was, but the ball was so well-placed — and the Mariners’ defense so thoroughly depleted — that he scored from first with 40 feet to spare. 14-14. Tie game.

For some reason I watched to the bitter end, even though extra innings were essentially and entirely denouement. Cleveland had already won the game by drawing level, and the Mariners had already lost it by blowing the biggest lead in MLB history. Cabrera’s walk-off single in the bottom of the 11th marked only the final blow in a disaster that had already unfolded.

Eighteen years later, this still haunts me. Not like it did then, when it was merely a humiliation, a nationally televised scandal of a game in what was otherwise an enormously successful season. But now, with the Mariners mired in year after year of pain, when the organization considers mediocrity aspirational, it’s hard not to see this as a harbinger of the misery to come, an early visitation of the Mariners in their true colors.

Sometimes I wonder if the current incarnation of the team, the one slowly draining the hope out of my fandom since 2004, is somehow inhabited by the ghost of Aug. 5. It’s ridiculous, of course — a single game, record books or not, has no bearing whatsoever on the standings 18 years later.

But. Still. What if?

Correction: This article originally stated that no team in history had ever come back from a 12-run deficit. In fact, it had happened twice prior to 2001, most recently in 1925.

This article originally ran before Secret Base launched, but it’s a very us story, and we like to think it’s worth reading. So here it is again!

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alatismeni-theitsa · 4 years

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Do you have any advice for greek people in diaspora who want to de-assimilate? My family immigrated to america when my great grandparents came over, and im kinda struggling to reconnect with my heritage when everyone in my family likes to pretend it doesnt exist. I grew up speaking some greek but even my parents admitted they want to forget all their greek and its really heartbreaking to see

I am sorry your parents treat Greek culture like a secret in the family. :/ It breaks my heart as well. But I am actually amazed that some Greek has stayed in the family from the time of your great grandparents!

To begin, assimilating isn’t exactly bad. Many people through the centuries have moved to other countries and became citizens of the new place in every way. Sure, you leave your old customs behind but you get new ones and you become part of a new community. It’s a natural process, happening since the beginning of humanity. Of course, it comes down to personal choice. Your parents want to not stand out. You want to keep the best of the new culture and the old culture.

I don’t want to assume things about you. Ι am saying this just in case you feel this way: please do not scorn the culture of the place where you live. Every culture is different and interesting, even if it seems mundane to you. The new culture is most likely the bigger part of you and it needs some care, too.

For example, I have spoken to many immigrants in the US and most of them dislike the US. At the same time, through our dicussions, they show me - and tell me - they couldn’t be less American. They had a very different upbringing than the people from their parents’ motherland.

I think it would be best if you got comfortable with both sides of you, the Greek one and the assimilated one. If your children and your children’s children live away from Greece, they will get more and more assimilated. It’s impossible to de-assimilate completely and forever. As many other Greeks, I am planning to leave Greece in a very short time. It’s sad to think my traditions won’t continue to the next generations. But it’s a reality we must face - and we should probably try to be positive about it.

That being said, it’s perfectly fine to have the desire to know more about your roots for whatever reason. So here is my advice to you:

1) You may want to read the history of Greece. All of it, not just from 300 BC to 100 AC as most foreigners do. Preferably, find works that have someone Greek as a writer or supervisor (because Greeks usually try to depict accurately what happened), or writers who truly feel Greece, like Richard Clogg. Our history and pain has shaped the way we look at the world and it’s a perspective you should be familiar with, since you are driving in! (Yes, more depression for everyone!)

2) Learn where your family comes from. Maybe by asking your grandparents or your parents you can learn the exact place/town or the geographical compartment of your family. Look for the specific dances and traditional costume of that area from YouTube videos or a Greek community in your area! See if the people there were great warriors, great merchants, great wine producers. See if there are any Greek heroes of the 1821 revolution coming from your place!

That may need lots of Google searching but I think you will get somewhere. I am also availiable if you want me to give you more information about a specific place.

For every Greek tribe there is a tag on my blog, like #macedonia, #epirus, #thrace and more. I have tags for most of the towns, too! You can also search for the different Greek “tribes” (Pontiacs, Kappadokians, Thracians and so on) which are often named after the place they lived. Everyone falls into some of them and you probably come from one (or two) as well!

3) Learn some more Greek. I suggest that because learning Greek means learning how Greeks think. I suppose you know the basics but how about the 20+ weird phrases we have to playfully say someone is gay, like “he flogs the dolphin”, “he shakes the pear tree” etc. What about the Greek phrases which stem from war and pirate raids and… hating the Turks?? How about the Mediterranean expressions like calling a mole “olive” or saying “I am in an open sea” when we feel lost, or saying “he pressed my oil out” when someone tires us?

Greekpod101 on YouTube will help you learn the basics and a little more! They also have a site. But basically going on Youtube and typing “learn Greek” will do the trick. For more weird or advanced stuff you can look at my tag #learn greek and #greek language.

4) Greek memes - Greek diaspora social media. They are surprisingly educational! @hooplagreeks on instagram is one of my fave meme profiles! Watch youtubers of Greek diaspora as “Greek in the City” or the Greek comedian Basile! On instagram you may want to follow @greekfestvictoria (videos of Greek dances and people, and photos of the community) and @newdiaspora (“a digital storytelling platform, focusing on the new generation of Greeks living abroad during the crisis in their homeland”) and @ greek_diaspora (some things for Greek culture).

On my tag #greek diaspora you may find more people like you! Some have asked me similar stuff so I may be repeating stuff in those posts as well.

5) Cook/eat Greek food. If your grandparents and mum know recipes, take them as if they are gold. It’s a great way to get familiar with the local Greek ingredients and the Greek palette. Heck, look for Greek recipes on the internet and cook them! If you don’t know where to start, my tag #greek cuisine may be helpful.

6) Read Greek classic literature (in Greek if you can, but you can also find works translated in English). Elitis, Sahtouris, Seferis, Venezis, Papadiamantis, Mirivilis, Delta, Empirikos, Zei, Kazantzakis are only a few of the literary gems Greeks have to offer. Enjoy good writing, the Greek perspective, and get to know the newer Greek society in a unique and authentic way. Here is a list with more of them (link).

7) Meet more Greeks! Through groups on insta or fb, through Tumblr blogs etc. Watch youtubers of Greek diaspora as “Greek in Town” or the comedian Basile! Maybe there is one Greek community near you area and you can pay a visit for festivals! (No day, Independence Day, 1st of March, Easter meal, Dance festivals etc). Don’t be shy to go there. From what I have seen, people from all backgrounds are welcome there. Plus, Greeks LOVE showing their culture so you are going to learn a lot of things from them.

8) Be proud. I know it may sound kind of weird but I feel being proud is one key element of being Greek. In every anniversary wars we won, in our schools we sing prideful songs and hang posters with our war heroes, always standing proud. The students and the army parade in the streets the small children wearing traditional costumes (parade is kinda of a facist remnant - ew - but it shows that we want to instill pride even in our children. It has a few positive elements I guess :P). To sum up, be proud of a people who endured natural catastrophes, wars, genocide, famine, occupation, slaughters and slavery and can still stand!

9) Travel to Greece? I don’t know how affortable it is for you and how easy it is but I recommend it. Your tickets don’t need to be for summer. (Honestly, you may want to avoid summer. It’s too hot and too crowdy in tourist areas. Spring is our best season ;). You can come off season and just see the place and meet the people. See the species Grecus Hellenicus in its narutal habitat! Maybe you’ll make some new friends to discuss about Greek culture!

10) Search the tags on this blog. In #greek people you will see Greeks of every era, in #vintage you will find old towns and traditional settings. In #paradosiaki foresia await some of the Greek traditional clothes. #greek language, #greek culture and #greek tradition, #greek festival, #greek music are self explanatory.

I think that’s all I’ve got! Good luck in your journey and I am here if you need anything else :D You can dm me and ask stuff, anything you want! I would be happy to help you get in touch with your roots!

#answered #greek diaspora #greek culture #advice #thepostiamlookingfor

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sky-bluepinksunset · 7 years

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All of them ya Jobbie

DELETED THIS HALFWAY THROUGH SO TAKE II BITCHES 1: My name? Bryce! 2: Do I have any nicknames? B, Kennedy when I'm in trouble, BK, babe3: Zodiac sign? Aries4: Video game I play to chill, not to win? Grand Theft Auto V5: Book/series I reread? Harry Potter but Goblet of Fire especially 6: Aliens or ghosts? Leaning more towards ghosts?? 7: Writer I trust enough to read whatever they write? Not sure? Don't really follow authors well8: Favourite radio station? 104.5, not that it means a lot to you, but it's called "The Beat of Knoxville" and plays mostly rap and hip hop 9: Favourite flavour of anything? Cinnamon 10: The word that I use all the time to describe something great? Insane lmaooo11: Favourite song? Of all time?? Either 12: The question you ask new friends to get to know them better? Favorite song usually!! 13: Favourite word? Probably 14: The last person who hurt me, did I forgive them? Yeah, you're going to be miserable if you're bitter. 15: Last song I listened to? Praying by Kesha16: TV show I always recommend? B99 as of super recent 17: Pirates or ninjas? Pirates 18: Movie I watch when I'm feeling down? I normally binge tv series I've seen before 19: Song that I always start my shuffle with/wake-up song/always-on-a-loop song? Issues by Julia Michaels because it's a BOP Also Home by Edward Sharpe20: Favourite video games? GTA, Literally NEVER ashamed to admit to Mario Super Bros, Life is Strange is pretty good! Also quite like Subnautica sue me 21: What am I most afraid of? Failure I think22: A good quality of mine? I help people?? Idk lmao 23: A bad quality of mine? Losing discipline when trying to do something 24: Cats or dogs? BOTH25: Actor/actress you trust enough to watch whatever they're in? Evelyne Brochu 26: Favourite season? Fall 27: Am I in a relationship? Nope 28: Something I miss? Band a lot29: My best friend? Ur gay ass30: Eye colour? Blue! 31: Hair colour? Currently a silver blonde 32: Someone I love? Cameron33: Someone I trust? You34: Someone I always think about? Chekov and Sulu 🙄🙄35: Am I excited about anything? Yep! 36: My current obsession? Buzzfeedblue37: Favourite TV shows as a child? Wizards of Waverly Place, iCarly, either of the Zach and Cody shows 38: Do I have someone of the opposite sex that I can tell everything to? Yeah! 39: Am I superstitious? About some things like salt over your shoulder and sweeping your feet40: What do I think about most? Again Chulu or college 41: Do I have any strange phobias? Mm I have a fear of dying or disappearing and my room being a mess 42: Do I prefer to be in front of the camera or behind it? Behind 43: Favourite hobbies? Writing 44: Last book I read? People's History of the US45: Last film I watched? Not sure? 46: Do I play any instruments? Flute, piccolo and alto flute! 47: Favourite animal? Otter, shark, pit bulls48: Top 5 blog on Tumblr that I follow?49: Superpower I wish I could have? Teleporting could be cool50: How do I destress? Watch shit or exercise 51: Do I like confrontation? NOPE52: When do I feel most at peace? Not really sure53: What makes me smile? Silly conversations 54: Do I sleep with the lights on or off? Off I'm not an ANIMAL 55: Play any sports? Nope, used to play softball and basketball 56: What is my song of the week? The Louvre57: Favourite drink? Coffee 58: When did I last send a handwritten letter to somebody? I have no idea 59: Afraid of heights? Healthily 60: Pet peeve? Oppression I guess?? 61: What was the last concert I went to see? Mary Lambert 62: Am I vegetarian/vegan/pescatarian? I want to go back vegetarian or vegan!! 63: What occupation did I want to do when I was younger? A veterinarian 64: Have I ever had a friend turn enemy? Yeah one but I just hold a grudge over nothing 65: What fictional universe would I like to be a part of? Star Trek or HP66: Something I worry about? Making wrong decisions 67: Scared of the dark? Sorta 68: Who are my best friends? U and Nicole69: What do I admire most about others? Their talents!! 70: Can I sing? Nope 71: Something I wish I could do? Lose weight easier lmao 72: If I won the lottery, what would I do? Travel! 73: Have I ever skipped school? Once74: Favourite place on the planet? Haven't found it yet 75: Where do I want to live? Scotland right now76: Do I have any pets? Yeah a bunch 77: What is my current desktop picture? Currently it's Nomi and Anaminita78: Early bird or night owl? Night owl 79: Sunsets or sunrise? Sunsets I think 80: Can I drive? Yeah! Love it 81: Story behind my last kiss? Don't wanna talk about it lmao 82: Earphones or headphones? Earphones 83: Have I ever had braces? Nope 84: Story behind one of my scars? I got rock stuck in my elbow from a bike fall 85: Favourite genre of music? Indie86: Who is my hero? I have no idea 87: Favourite comic book character? Wonder Woman atm 88: What makes me really angry? Oppression again 89: Kindle or real book? Real book but I don't mind kindles at all 90: Favourite sporty activity? Band??? Dk if that counts 91: What is one thing that isn’t tight in schools that should be? "Isn't tight" But the whole phone situation 92: What was my favourite subject at school? English 93: Siblings? 2 brothers and 3 sisters 94: What was the last thing I bought? I bought gas and dinner for the fam 95: How tall am I? 5'11 I think 96: Can I cook? Not extremely complicated 97: Can I bake? Yeah really well!98: 3 things I love? Trips, the sky, great plots 99: 3 things I hate? Shopping, restlessness trying to sleep, work atm100: Do I have more girl friends or boy friends? More girl friends 101: Who do I get on with better, girls or boys? Both equally well102: Where was I born? Maryville, TN103: Sexual orientation? Bi104: Where do I currently live? Maryville lmao 105: Last person I texted? You 106: Last time I cried? I think earlier over a video 107: Guilty pleasure? conspiracy theories 108: Favourite Youtuber? Buzzfeedblue at the moment KILL ME 109: A photo of myself. 110: Do I like selfies? Sometimes!111: Favourite game app? Don't really know 112: My relationship with my parents? Yeah could be worse 113: Favourite accents? French, Indian and Kenyan I think 114: A place I have not been but wish to visit? Anywhere in Europe 115: Favourite number? 24116: Can I juggle? Nope and don't have any desire to 117: Am I religious? Sorta 118: Do I like space? Yeah 119: Do I like the deep ocean? Yes! 120: Am I much of a daredevil? No not remotely 121: Am I allergic to anything? Nope 122: Can I curl my tongue? Yes123: Can I wiggle my ears? Nope124: Do I like clowns? I don't hate them 125: The Beatles or Elvis? Actually can't stand Elvis 126: My current project? Getting myself better in different ways 127: Am I a bad loser? Yeaaaaah128: Do I admit when I wrong? Sometimes129: Forest or beach? Forest 130: Favourite piece of advice? Breathe 131: Am I a good liar I think so? Don't love to do it 132: Hogwarts house / Divergent faction / Hunger Games district? Ravenclaw/ Amity or Erudite / No clue 133: Do I talk to myself? Yeah 134: Am I very social? Nope 135: Do I like gossip? Nope 136: Do I keep a journal/diary? I wish I had! I need to start 137: Have I ever hopelessly failed a test? Yeah lmao138: Do I believe in second chances? Yes 139: If I found a wallet full of cash on the ground, what would I do? Leave it, like I wouldn't turn it in because I don't want to be put on one of those shifty videos yk140: Do I believe people are capable of change? Always 141: Have I ever been underweight? Nope 142: Am I ticklish? Yeah I HATE it 143: Have I ever been in a submarine? Nope144: Have I ever been on a plane? Twice 145: In a film about my life, who would I cast as myself, friends and family? A bunch of my faves that don't have to look anything alike 146: Have I ever been overweight? YUP147: Do I have any piercings? Currently just the one ear hole, let the others close up 148: Which fictional character do I wish was real? Suluuuuu149: Do I have any tattoos? Not yet150: What is the best decision I have made in life so far? Not sure! Possibly college choice soon 151: Do I believe in Karma? Yes152: Do I wear glasses or contacts? Glasses but they're broken atm 153: What was my first car? Pontiac G6 2005 154: Do I want children? Yup 155: Who is the most intelligent person I know? The Spirko family 156: My most embarrassing memory? 157: What makes me nostalgic? Pictures of band 158: Have I ever pulled an all-nighter? Yeah I hate it 159: Which do I value more in others, brains or beauty? Brains 160: What colour mostly dominates my wardrobe? Teal 161: Have I ever had a paranormal experience? Yep 162: What do I hate most about myself? How I look 163: What do I love most about myself? My thought process 164: Do I like adventure? Yeah who doesn't 165: Do I believe in fate? Skeptical but yeah 166: Favourite animal? Answered above but otters and sharks and pits 167: Have I ever been on radio? Nope 168: Have I ever been on TV? Yeah 169: How old am I? 17 170: One of my favourite quotes? The stars would be proud to know they made someone like you 171: Do I hold grudges? Yeahhh172: Do I trust easily? Kinda 173: Have I learnt from my mistakes? I hope 174: Best gift I’ve ever received? Not really sure but probably Kenya 175: Do I dream? Yeah 176: Have I ever had a night terror? Yep177: Do I remember my dreams, and what is one that comes to mind? When I was 8, I had a dream my family was trying to kill me and I woke up screaming 178: An experience that has made me stronger? Taking care of Cam from a young age 179: If I were immortal, what would I do? Fuckin LIVE 180: Do I like shopping? Absolutely not 181: If I could get away with a crime, what would I choose to do? Rob a bank I need some money 182: What does “family” mean to me? Anyone who makes you feel loved183: What is my spirit animal? Probably a sloth or elephant or smth lmao 184: How do I want to be remembered? Hopeful 185: If I could master one skill, what would I choose? Cooking 186: What is my greatest failure? Not sure 187: What is my greatest achievement? Again not sure 188: Love or money? Love 189: Love or career? At the sacrifice of another, it seems pointless 190: If I could time travel, where and when would I want to go? Probably back to grandpa 191: What makes me the happiest? Being out with friends I think 192: What is “home” to me? Hard to describe but definitely where you're relaxed and motivated and I think it's more an idea?? Like you're with certain people maybe 193: What motivates me? Not wanting to be embarrassed 194: If I could choose my last words, what would they be? Probably try to quote a shit book 195: Would I ever want to encounter aliens? Absolutely BEAM ME UP 196: A movie that scared me as a child? Sweeney Todd197: Something I hated as a child that I like now? Naps 198: Zombies or vampires? Vampires probably 199: Live in the city or suburbs? City right now! Currently in the country so it'll be an experience 200: Dragons or wizards? Wizards 201: A nightmare that has stayed with me? Again the family murdering me thing 202: How do I define love? Home 203: Do I judge a book by its cover? Yeah too often 204: Have I ever had my heart broken? Yes205: Do I like my handwriting? Oddly enough, yeah? 206: Sweet or savoury? Savory 207: Worst job I’ve had? Taco Bell by default 208: Do I collect anything? Shells! 209: Item of clothing or jewellery you’ll never see me without? I wear my Kati bag because I keep my cigarettes in it 210: What is on my bucket list? Stealing yours but defo northern lights 211: How do I handle anger? Snapping and apologizing, or ignoring everyone 212: Was I named after anyone? Bryce was after a Bengals football player, and my mom and dad argue between Kennedy being after a DJ in Cincinnati or the president 213: Do I use sarcasm a lot? NOPE 214: What TV character am I most like? Mix of Gina and Rosa and Amy off b99 215: What is the weirdest talent I have? Guessing tv plots 216: Favourite fictional character? Nomi or Sulu That took a full 45 minutes

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