#but i’m picturing something like the City Museum in St Louis | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

robthomissed · 3 years

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Hidden Gems

This is half fic and half love letter to the Art Museum honestly. I adore that place and I got this idea stuck in my head one day. I haven't written anything in a while so I apologize for how rough it might be. Also yes I took the time to link the art I referenced, I am that much of a nerd.

You love going to the Art Museum and have often gone alone because it was just a nice way to relax. Robby is dumbfounded that you go by yourself even after you have taken him there once and shown him all of your favorite pieces. You explain that you love putting your earbuds in, turning on soft music, and just walking around quietly for a few hours. The next time you say you are going to the museum without him he says “No, I’m coming.”

You smile and try to explain “I just kinda want to have some time in my own head for a bit. We can watch a movie when I get home”

Robby thinks it over for a second before perking up like a lightbulb went off in his head. “Well how about I come and we start your museum playlist at the same time and just walk around by ourselves but still together kinda. If that makes sense?”

And honestly yeah it was just what you needed. You were free to move around however you wanted and Robby did the same but you would catch glimpses of him through doorways or just watch him admire one of the artworks when he thought you were in another room. There was something very comforting about knowing he was just around.

You thought back to how excited you had been to show him the Art Museum when you first got together and how you were also slightly disappointed that none of the other guys on the team had really been either. Maybe you could talk to the other girls and set up a group trip. But did you really want to risk subjecting the other visitors to what DP was like when he got bored and was finding ways to entertain himself? I mean he had barely made it through all the speeches at the ring ceremony.

It had been a rainy and grey afternoon when you had first taken Robby to the museum. It was one of his last off days before the season but the weather had put a damper on your original plan of a picnic on Art Hill. But you assured him the day wasn’t wasted and that there was plenty to see inside the massive stone building that held one of St. Louis’ greatest gems.

The look on his face when he saw how big Water Lilies actually is was priceless. He just wanted to stand there and look at it for a while which you were more than happy to oblige since it was one of your favorites anyways.

It took a little more selling on your part to get him interested in the modern and abstract stuff but he enjoyed watching how you got absorbed into the art around you. He took the opportunity to get some pictures of you since you pretty much never let him take them otherwise. You only found out about them a couple weeks later when you happened to see that his lock screen was a picture of you backlit by the led light installation. You honestly couldn’t figure out how he had gotten that angle without you noticing. He did get pretty excited about the burnt and broken violin encased in plastic so that was a small victory.

Your favorite moment might have been when a museum employee had yelled at him for getting too close to the statues because he was absolutely mesmerized by the folds in the fabric. He simply couldn’t understand how the artist had managed to make the stone look like transparent cloth.

The room you let him explore on his own was the section with all the Egyptian artifacts and the mummy. You wanted absolutely nothing to do with that but Robby got right down next to it looking back at you in the doorway saying “Babe can you believe this?! Look, you can see their hair and everything!” It was admittedly cute to see him so excited but also you will never understand how he got that close. You thought nothing would top it until you mentioned the sword room and he just looked at you with wide eyes and made you take him there immediately. He kept taking pictures to send to Rou and Sammy which apparently piqued their interest enough that they invited themselves on your next museum date.

There had been a more sullen moment when he had seen what was admittedly one of your favorite pieces in the whole museum, Despair by Auguste Rodin. Robby just kinda stopped and stared at it with a look on his face that was hard to decipher until he said “Yeah dude, I know how you feel.” He said it so softly, almost like it was just between him and the man collapsed in agony. Then the image of him crumpled on the ice in Boston flashed in your mind and you thought you maybe understood what he meant. You hadn’t known him then but knowing him now you can only imagine how much pain he had been in while recovering from his concussion and how lonely that experience must have been. You grabbed his hand and squeezed gently as you pulled him away and over to another of your favorite paintings.

Robby called you a dork when you got really excited about the collection of mid-century modern furniture stashed away in the basement but there is just something about their design that makes you love them. But he had admitted that the little room tucked away in the corner of the basement with a glass roof and the soft leather couch was the perfect spot to just sit and listen to the rain.

You must have been standing there a long time lost in thought because you let out a yell that was slightly too loud for a museum when someone came up behind you and put a hand on your shoulder. Thankfully, when you turned around to see who it was you saw Robby with his hand covering his mouth trying to keep his laughing to a more acceptable volume. How had he gotten behind you anyway?

“I think you zoned out again babe. That, or that blank wall is a whole new level of abstract art that I don’t understand.”

You laughed and pressed your face into his shoulder to try and hide the blush that was starting to color your face.

Robby just put his arm around you and started pulling you towards the stairs “Come on I heard someone mention the cafe downstairs is open again and I want coffee”

And who were you to deny him when he knew you always wanted coffee and fancy pastries.

A couple hours later you could tell that Robby had reached his limit and was ready to go home so you told him to go out and get the car while you looked at one last thing. When you walked down the front steps of the museum on the way to meet him you stopped in your tracks when you saw Robby standing under the statue of King Louis IX. The sunset behind him was gorgeous. He was gorgeous. You had always loved St. Louis but now sharing it with Robby and watching him exist in places you knew like the back of your hand brought the city to life in ways you had never imagined. You couldn’t wait to show Robby the next hidden gem so that he could fall in love with the city just like you had fallen in love with him.

#robert thomas #robert thomas fic #st louis blues #nhl fic #hockey fic #nhl #hockey #missed writings

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barbasbodaciousbeard · 3 years

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IF YOU LOVE SOMEONE, LET THEM GO: PART 9

Summary: Since starting with SVU, Sonny hadn’t kept much terribly close to the chest. The squad knew about his family, growing up on Staten Island, the classes at Fordham. What was hidden was why he didn’t date. Sonny Carisi was also separated from his childhood sweetheart, a separation neither ever took to divorce. They had the same haunts. They’d grown up neighbors. Their paths crossed every few months, and divorce talks would turn into reminiscing would turn into a night spent together, sometimes sex sometimes just talking until the early morning. It always ended with one of them waking up alone however. How will that change when the squad finds out?

Pairings: Sonny Carisi x Original Character

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8

A/N: Ayyy, they’re in New Orleans, a place I know well enough to write about.

November 2015

“Tor, where are you draggin’ me?” Sonny laughed, hand in Victoria’s as they made their way through Jackson Square. It was almost eerie past midnight.

“You said you were hungry! We’re a block away from something I think you’ll like.”

“Doll, we’re in New Orleans. We’re always a block from something I’ll like.” What he liked was seeing her so in her element. The city had a soul more like hers, and seeing her pull him through the streets made him feel like he was a teenager with a crush again instead of a man celebrating his thirtieth birthday with his wife. They’d just dropped their bags in the hotel after their flight. She’d found them a place steps from Jackson Square and St. Louis Cathedral, and in the night, her cheeks were flushed pink from the wind coming off of the Mississippi River and excitement.

“There’s no line at Cafe du Monde at one in the morning,” she grinned, giving an exaggerated flourish. “Louisiana zeppoli sound good? Beignets.”

“You get me.” They sat at the little metal table, and he looked out at the empty square. When they’d come so long ago, her mother had gotten a friend to lend her their apartment, and the pair had taken the trolley to the zoo or aquarium or museum during the day. This trip, he was excited to go to bars and hear live music and have cocktails. Come back to a hotel where they could order room service. He was determined to make another trip to the zoo as well. The pictures from before showed two lanky teenagers pretending they didn’t like each other. Now they’d been together a decade plus.

“You got a little messy,” she grinned, Sonny having exhaled at the wrong time. Powdered sugar was everywhere, but the broad smile as he ate was perfect. Victoria took a picture of Sonny with his crinkled eyes and dimpled grin, covered in powdered sugar with a beignet in front of him. He polished it off, paying before he leaned to kiss her as she laughed. He tasted like airport coffee, pastry, and sugar as he pulled her close on the street outside.

“You know, it’s officially the second now. You’re thirty!”

“I guess I am,” he chuckled, kissing her again.

“Happy birthday, cher. I guess you oughta get me back to the hotel so we can celebrate…” His goofy grin turned wicked as he pulled her down St. Ann’s Street to the hotel, scooping her up bridal style when they got to their hallway. Victoria squealed, slipping the key from her bag to unlock the door for him and he kicked it closed behind them. He woke with her wrapped around him and sun from the courtyard filtering in. Thirty was going to be much better, he could already tell. When she woke, she felt his fingers tracing her spine, and she curled closer into him.

“Mornin’ handsome.” She always developed an accent when she was around southerners. Her mom had given her a little twang, but the Louisiana accent was thick now, and he loved it.

“Mornin’ doll. You sleep okay?”

“You tired me out.” He was rewarded with a crooked grin, and Sonny kissed her softly and pulled her close again. “Happy birthday. What do you want to do today?”

“Order breakfast in? Maybe go to the zoo?”

“You want to go to the zoo?”

“Yeah. It was what we did last time when I realized I had a crush on you. Could be good before we go to dinner and that burlesque show.”

“It’s going to be perfect,” she grinned. “Anything you wanna do. All day.”

“Anything?” The impish smile was back, and they didn’t have breakfast for another couple of hours. Watching Sonny as they made their way to the zoo, she grinned, arms wrapping around his waist.

“You’re cute.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah. I like how excited you get about things.”

“Is that why you call me a puppy so often?”

“A little,” she chuckled, buying their tickets and leading him in.

“Better than a lanky noodle,” he grinned, arms around her waist as they watched the flamingos near the entrance. Whenever they planned to take this vacation, he hadn’t really anticipated how nice it would be to have a whole swath of the country between him and all the dark things he dealt with at work. In the city, he would pass places that brought a case to mind easily, even if he wasn’t really thinking about it. They’d walk by a bar and some part of his brain noted that was where the vic in the case last year was assaulted. In New Orleans, he knew there was still crime. He could even guess dangerous spots. But, he didn’t have names and faces and stories. Instead, he had the old independent bookstore with no air conditioning he’d followed Victoria through, the humidity and heat making him sweat straight through his t-shirt. Here, there was the little area he’d sat and stared as Victoria watched the orangutans with a broad grin. They’d definitely be stopping there. And he was excited for the Louisiana Swamp portion. Those were the two he had the strongest memory of. As if she knew, Victoria took his hand, tugging him towards the fountain and to the roman candy wagon just before the path to the monkeys.

“I almost forgot about this,” he chuckled, fishing a dollar from his pocket. “We goin’ chocolate and vanilla?”

“Duh.” She took the long sticks of what was basically taffy wrapped in wax paper gladly. It was as stretchy and messy as he remembered, and they walked happily, pinching off pieces and passing it back and forth. Between the orangutans and gorillas was the same wooden seating area, and they sat.

“Y’know, I think this is where I realized I was in love with you,” he said, leaning back against the tree trunk that grew in the middle. “You were watching the baby orangutan. Got so excited when they told you his name and stuff. And then you were telling everybody that came after the zookeeper left everything like you were the new tour guide. I remember looking at ya in the sun in that flowery spaghetti strap dress and all your hair up and this big smile and knowing it was gonna be you.”

“Really?” she asked, head tilted as he nodded. Now she was in one of his pullovers tucked into jeans, bundled up from the breeze. It was twelve years later, and she was just as perfect in the sun. She leaned to kiss him sweetly, staying close. “Wanna know something?”

“What?”

“I realized I loved you in the swamp part. You were so excited, and I remember already realizing I liked you. Then there’s that statue of the swamp monster? The rugaru when you turn the corner? We were there and a kid ran the corner ahead of his mom and got scared. He started crying and got embarrassed and you just sat down and told him the rugaru scared you too and hung out the minute for his mom to catch up. Knew it then I wanted you forever.”

“We’re real disgusting, aren’t we?”

“Just a little,” she smiled, kissing him again. It was nice to sit in the sun beside him, taking turns pointing out when there was activity in each enclosure. Sonny still smiled just like he did when they were teenagers, but he was more relaxed now that she had him this far from the city. His shoulders carried less tension and his smile always reached his eyes. They’d be taking a yearly vacation from here on out. They needed the time away from the city.

“If your mom had raised you here, our lives would be so different,” he mused as they leaned against the railing in the swamp portion. They took turns looking into the green of the swamp water to point out alligators floating along.

“I’d be a swamp witch.” Her voice was serious enough Sonny couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped him.

“And I’d probably have ended up a priest.”

“Good and evil. Are we an unholy union then?”

“Nah. Told ya before, doll. Preordained by the big guy. Might not have found you when I was five. But you’d have ended up stuck with me any way.”

“It means the world to me how strongly you believe that. I ever told you? Even when we were separated, I knew we wouldn’t get divorced, but I’d get scared we couldn’t fix it.”

“Me too. But we’re here. I get to start my thirties with ya. And we’ll have babies and grandbabies and great grandbabies.”

“We will. And short term? We’ll have a lot more trips. Get more breaks.”

“I’d like that a lot. It’s nice being way out here. Wanna do it more.”

They made their way to the hotel in time to shower before dinner and to make it to the bar putting on the burlesque show in time for drinks. Early on, Victoria had figured out Sonny was a sucker for old school burlesque. She’d done a boudoir shoot for him done up with all the vintage trimmings, and one night, she’d convinced him to attend a burlesque show at home, one with a live band. That, he’d liked. There was a bar on Canal Street, Burgundy, that had a local burlesque troupe perform on the weekends. The place was sultry when they walked in, all deep velvets and a glittering chandelier. She’d kissed his cheek, going to powder her nose before she ordered. They’d dressed up, and Sonny leaned against the counter waiting to order.

“This seat taken?” asked a petite brunette, and he didn’t think anything of it.

“Nah. I’m going to a table.”

“You’re not from around here, are ya?”

“Visiting from New York,” he shrugged, still watching the bartender.

“And here I was hoping you’d be a local. It’s a shame I’ll only see you tonight.”

“Yeah. It’s the only night they got the show. Came for my birthday.”

“Well, happy birthday.” The bartender stopped, and he ordered two drinks, the champagne one with rose water he knew Victoria would like and whatever the specialty was with whiskey for himself.

“That for me?” she asked, and the way she tilted her head told him he was an idiot. He suddenly took in the way she was leaning towards him, eyes going wide. Luckily, he could see Victoria in the background, and she chuckled as he caught her eye. One thing he was grateful for was the fact she knew he could be dumb. He looked at women, sure. Victoria looked at men sometimes. That didn’t matter because they had no interest in doing anything with anybody else. He didn’t, however, tend to realize the eyes a woman was giving him.

“It’s for me,” Victoria smiled, wrapping an arm around Sonny’s waist easily and resting the hand with her wedding ring on his chest.

“Sorry. I didn’t realize…” Victoria just gave her a smile and a nod, taking her drink gratefully and following Sonny to their table. His cheeks were pink and Victoria couldn’t help but laugh as she slid beside him on the booth side of the table facing the stage.

“Tor, I had no clue,” he said like she was terribly upset. She cared just enough to wrap the territorial arm around him, but not enough to scold him. Hell, it was endearing. “I wouldn’t ever wanna flirt with anybody but you so sometimes I miss it.”

“Dom, I’m not mad. You’re hot as hell, and it’s really sweet how clueless you are. Not your fault other women notice the hot part.”

“Shuddup,” he muttered, ears turning red now. “You don’t notice when guys flirt with you either.”

“I do too!”

“Nah. The guy at the zoo? The one that was friendly until I showed up? Doll, he had been checkin’ you out.”

“What? No. He just wanted to know where the food was.”

“Oh? That’s why he was standing outside the ordering window when he asked you that?”

“Shit.” Sonny laughed, slipping an arm around her.

“It’s okay. I kind of like showing up like ‘Yeah, she’s hot. And she’s my wife.’”

“I like doing the same to you.”

“Love you, Tor.”

“And I love you, Dom. Happy birthday.”

Tags: @cycat4077 @fear-less-write-more

#sonny carisi #sonny carisi x oc #sonny carisi x reader #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #law and order

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ferretshark · 4 years

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Meet Me In St Louis

By: @ferretshark

For: @wonkystank

Rating:General

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Happy Hogan, May Parker

Summary:

Peter really wasn’t looking forward to Friday, May was working and he already knew that Tony was going out of town because Lab and movie night were cancelled. He should just take the time to stay in and catch up on sleep. The problem was he couldn’t sleep because he couldn’t stop thinking, but he couldn’t think effectively because he needed sleep. The cycle was vicious and he wasn’t seeing a way out.

He looks up to find Tony watching him.“You know I’m going to St Louis. Why don’t you come with?”

“Go with you? I thought it was a business trip.”

Ao3 link

Peter stares into space, unfocused. He’s tired and everything he needs to do stretches out in front of him. Lately sleep has been hard to come by and the days are blurring together, even Spider-manning has lost some of its charm. He sighs.

“I’m sorry. Am I boring you?” Tony’s voice is teasing.

Peter blinks, eyes snapping back into focus. “Um, no. I'm not bored.” It was lab day, not that they’d accomplished much. The lethargy that had been plaguing Peter all week iswas still there sapping his creativity. He starts to offer up an excuse but settles for honesty. “I’m just... tired.”

Tony’s eyes darken with concern. “Yeah, May and I have been worried about that. Maybe it’s time for a break, Bud.”

Peter narrows his eyes a bit. He’s not sure how he feels about this new development where Tony and May consult on the regular about his welfare.

“So no school on Friday.” Tony ventures. “Happy said you’re o-ff.”

“Yeah, it’s a teacher work day.” He slumps forward, resting his cheek on his hand.

He looks up to find Tony watching him.“You know I’m going to St Louis. Why don’t you come with?”

“Go with you? I thought it was a business trip.”

“It is. All the more reason you should come along.”

Peter considers. Seeing the in and outs of running SI could be cool, but the travel sounds exhausting. “I’ll have to see what May thinks,” he mumbles out.

“She thinks it’s a good idea. “ Tony crosses his arms at Peter’s unimpressed look. “Might be fun to do a little light interning?” Tony’s phone chimes and he glances down. “Happy’s here.”

Peter stands, stretches and starts gathering his jacket and backpack. He’s not really sure where the afternoon’s gone.

Tony walks with him out to the garage, it’s something that’s started to become a bit of a tradition lately. “ See you bright and early on Friday. And, Pete, leave the suit at home.”

—-

Peter tries to go to bed early on Thursday, he really does. He only patrols to nine thirty , comes home, showers and packs his duffle.

He’s in bed by eleven but sleep won’t come. Tossing and turning well past midnight, he checks his phone again, up in three hours. He flips the screen down and passes out close to dawn.

By some miracle he’s awake at five thirty, grabs a quick breakfast and is downstairs ready when the black Bently pulls up to the curb. The door and trunk locks disengage.

“Quick! Get in.” Happy yells through the windows.

Peter barely has time to throw his bag in the open trunk and get the door shut before Happy’s veering back out into traffic. He peers at Peter in the rear view mirror. “Buckle up!”

“Ok, ok I‘m working on it.” Peter pulls the belt and snaps the buckle into place. “Where’s Mr. Stark?”

“He’s meeting us there.” Happy answers, accelerating through a yellow light.

Sometime later, they pull up in front of the private jet hanger. Peter hops out and waits while Happy grabs their bags. The jet sits on the tarmac, and it gives Peter flashbacks of another trip not so long ago. The steps to the passenger cabin lower and Happy hurries inside with the luggage only to poke his head out again.

“Can you tell Tony we’re ready to go? His stuff’s already here but I think he’s in the hanger.”

Peter looks over to the tan building waiting off. “Uh, sure.” He steps inside the open building and sure enough Tony is there, tapping away on his mobile.

“I thought you said no suits.” Peter gestures to the Iron Man suit standing in sentry mode over in the corner of the hanger.

“Do as I say not as I do.” Tony says flippantly, not looking up from his phone. “Anyway, he’s staying here.”

The fact that Tony always talked about each of his suits as if they were wayward children but also proclaimed them synonymous with himself privately amuses Peter. He looks fondly at the suit.

“So still not sleeping?” Peter looks up to find Tony’s gaze sweeping over his face.

“Not really.” He shrugs, he doesn’t want to get into it right now. “Happy says it’s time to go.”

Tony looks out at the jet. “Yeah, probably. Come on.”

______

The flight time stretches out as Peter stares out the window. Mr. Stark mouths an apology but ends up spending most of the time on his phone. He can see Happy hunched over in the back, sending emails.

At least the WiFi is plentiful. Peter spends his time wisely watching tik toks and scrolling through tumblr. He wishes he could rest a little, but even as tired as he is, actual sleepiness seemed out of reach. The tiredness he carries lately is settled down deep in his bones and leaves him feeling like he’s taking tiny sips of rest when he really needs to drink deep. The resulting exhaustion sits heavy in his mind, weighing down his shoulders. Trying to ignore the feeling he stretches out, putting his feet on the seat across from him.

Slipping his earphones in affords him some semblance of privacy, He starts up his Spidey playlist and dives back into the wonders of the internet. He’s not really aware when he starts singing, until he launches into an energetic chorus and suddenly he remembers. He bolts upright to find the other two airplane occupants regarding him with everything from amusement to irritation. In fact, it was exactly those two reactions, amusement and irritation.

“Oh, um sorry.”

Tony laughs and goes back to his work, still smiling.

Happy is playing a mean eyebrow game as he finishes his phone call.

Peter clears his throat and settles back into his seat <i>quietly.</i> He also studiously avoids looking around the passenger cabin. Fortunately, within thirty minutes, they're on the ground at the airport.

He stands and stretches while Happy and Tony disembark. He’s learned by now that the most important thing to do in these situations is stay out of Happy Hogan’s way. The man is a ball of energy as he secures their ride and gets the luggage put away.

Tony slides into the back seat and Peter slips in beside him. “Let’s go, Hap.”

Peter marvels at the views of an unfamiliar city through the car window, far off he catches a glimpse of the Gateway Arch, the city’s most famous landmark. There’s factories and abandoned houses, museums and concrete, but it’s also beautiful and green in a way that parts of Queens aren't. Maybe it’s not a fair comparison but, hey, Peter hasn’t been too many places.

They pull up at the Four Seasons Hotel because, of course, Tony always goes first class. Peter takes a quick panoramic shot and sends it out in a text to his best friend. Ned was going to die.

The lobby is all light and glass and Peter tries hard not to be intimidated. He’d stayed in some reasonably nice places back when he was in band, but really nothing close to this.

Tony goes to the front desk and comes back with keycards. He passes them out to Peter and Happy.

“We have early check in so go make yourselves at home. Same floor.”

Happy looks a little surprised, “They didn’t have your suite-”

He’s cut off by Tony. “It’s good, we’re good,” he calls over his shoulder, heading to the elevator. “Let’s go.”

They get to the right floor and exit the elevator and Tony hovers while Peter finds his room number easily enough. Tony lingers behind him in the hallway until his door swings open, making sure his keycard works.

Peter pushes inside to reveal a tasteful decor in green, gray and olive. The room opens up at the end with an enormous picture window, framing the far off bridge and graceful sloping Arch. His first thought is that he’d love to swing from it. His second is that he must be in the wrong room.

He leans back out in the hallway. “Mr. Stark?” He can see Tony down and across the hall balancing his phone while he tries to work his key card from its little paper sleeve.

“Yeah, Pete?”

“I think I have the wrong room. There’s the view um..the Arch?” He gestures back toward the room.

Tony’s smile is soft with understanding, “I know kid, I’ve seen it.” He disappears into his own room. “Try a nap, if you can.”

Peter turns back, his eyes riveted to the skyline. Slipping into the room, he drops his bag on the floor. “Holy shit.” He whispers and then executes a pivot and falls backward onto the incredibly soft bed.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls his phone out, thumb sliding across the cracked screen. The plan is to send a few quick texts to May, but the muse strikes him and he steps over to take a few pictures from the window.

There’s a sharp rap at the door and Peter surges to his feet. Outside in the hall he finds Happy, looking not very happy at all. The man was all business.

“Ok, at midday we’ll be heading over to Switchpoint Services. We’ll do lunch there. The meeting’s at one.” Happy hands him a packet. “Here’s your security badge.” He slaps a laminated piece of plastic into Peter’s hand, “Wear it,” he stresses. “Do not lose it.” He gives Peter stern look, bulging out his eyes to make his point.

“That was, like, one time.” Peter tries to defend himself.

“If you don’t have the badge, they won’t let you in.” Happy doubles down on the dire warnings. “And don’t think you can sweet-talk your way upstairs like you do with that lobby guy at SI.”

“Ok, ok Happy, I got it.”

“Meet us in the lobby at 11 and we’ll head over.”

Happy turns and heads off down the hall. Peter shuts the door and sets his packet out. He should probably familiarize himself with the company they were going to.

There’s an olive chaise and he sits down on it. He spends a lazy half hour reading over the history of one Switchpoint Services, a poly-global tech company. Their latest innovations were extremely noteworthy. No wonder Mr. Stark wanted to partner with them.

He flips listlessly through the pages again. Maybe he should take a nap, like Mr Stark suggested. He glances over at the bed, but the thought of laying there, wanting to sleep but being unable. His new unwelcome normal. No, Peter turns his head back towards the window, then leans his head against it. He watches the flow of people and traffic below him.

A brief pattern of soft knocks sound at the door, and Peter’s head jerks up.

“Come in,” Peter calls.

Tony sticks his head around the door. “You busy?”

“Oh, it’s you.”

Tony just gives him a look before stepping into the room. He walks over to where Peter is.

“You just standing here?” Tony’s brows draw together.

Peter shrugs, “Yeah.” He wants to confide in Tony and tell him about the lack of sleep, the inability to rest. He feels like if anyone would understand, it would be Ironman. The words won’t come though, but in the end he doesn’t need them.

Tony hooks the edge of the olive green lounger and pulls it in front of the window. He pats the seat beside him. Peter joins him and they sit together, staring out at the mid-morning crush. Everyone outside was hurrying, trying to get somewhere but in this moment, in this space, Peter found he could finally just breathe.

There’s something in the shared silence that does more than any amount of talking could have.

Eventually, Tony’s phone beeps and he leaves, telling Peter it’s almost time to get ready.

Peter changes into his “work” clothes. His standard blue-gray sweater over a collared shirt and khaki pants. Not snazzy, like whatever Mr Stark will wear, but it works. He picks up the packet Happy gave him, slips his keycard in his pocket, and goes down in the elevator.

Downstairs Happy and Mr. Stark are chatting quietly. Happy is in his standard gray suit. Mr Stark is wearing a fitted black suit with a white dress shirt and red tie. His eyes are somewhat masked by the fashion shades he’s wearing. Peter fidgets, feeling underdressed.

Ton smiles when he catches sight of Peter, “There he is. Right on time.” He claps Peter on the back and they head to the parking lot.

Happy ushers them to the car and they drive through the busy city to a square building with blue mirrored windows.

Peter steps out, looking up at the office and swallows, tugging a bit at his cuffs.

Tony catches his eye, “Nerves?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Peter says with a little more confidence than he actually feels. He checks to make sure he has his security badge and that it’s visible.

There’s nothing quite like stepping into a business with Tony Stark. He’s instantly recognizable and between Stark Industries and the Avengers, his celebrity has launched into the stratosphere.

Happy takes immediate charge or coordinating with the personnel on site. Peter follows close behind Mr. Stark as they are ushered into a brightly lit, but currently empty, conference room. It’s bigger than Peter had expected and he wonders for the first time just how many people would be joining them.

After quiet discussion with their guid, Tony settles in at the head of the table and directs Peter to the seat on his right. The chairs themselves are a dove gray with a surprisingly comfortable seat. Peter leans back and stretches his legs out in front of him.

“You hungry?” Mr Stark asks.

“Mm, yeah. I could eat,” Peter answers politely.

“Yeah me too,” Mr. Stark steps out and has a word with Happy. When he comes back, he has food.

“The finest box lunch ten bucks can buy. Complete with mystery cookie.” Tony tosses down a box lunch in front of Peter. Tony leaves and comes back with bottled waters.

They open their boxes and Peter pulls out his ham and cheese. This was one of those fancier lunches with the really good bread. He takes a bite and sighs. Hunger well on its way to being sated, he roots around to find his chips and a wrapped dill pickle slice.

“Chocolate, white chocolate chunk.” Tony comments, unwrapping his baked good. “What did you get?”

“Looks like white chocolate macadamia.” Peter keeps his expression neutral because, sure, he’d eat it. He generally wasn’t in the position to be picky.

He looks up to find Tony holding the chocolate cookie out, “Trade?”

“Um sure.” He knows he sound less enthusiastic than he feels but he is grateful - chocolate cookies were the best.

“ Macadamia nuts. You know,” Tony muses. “Back in the day, they used to serve pouches of these on flights to Hawaii.” He takes a bite of the cookie, chews and swallows. “For the greater good and all, but I still kinda miss ‘em.”

They clean up their lunches and Tony reads over his notes again. As the meeting time grows closer, the room starts to fill with people. There’s polite murmuring among the group and Peter does his best not to eavesdrop. It’s full to capacity by the time, a woman greets them both warmly and then calls everyone to attention.

“I want to turn you over to our esteemed guest, Mr. Tony Stark.” Applause from around the conference table and Peter wonders awkwardly if he should be clapping too. As he’s puzzling over the implications of clapping versus not clapping, the group moves on, their attention completely focused on Tony, at the head of the table.

“You know who I am so we won’t waste anymore time on that.” A confident smile curls at Tony’s lips. “I do want to introduce you to my intern Peter.” He gestures to Peter, who in lieu of saying anything, settles for a quick wave. He hopes he wasn’t supposed to say anything.

Tony continues talking, “I have a lot of proposals come across my desk, but this one was exceptional, the possibilities of application are endless…”

Peter zones out a bit as the meeting winds on. There’s a back and forth, then question time before the meeting ends around lunch time.

Tony drops back in his seat after the last person, a chatty man in a silver tie, files out.

“That went well.”

Peter is watching him and playing with a pen between his fingers, “Yeah, it seemed to. These guys are really smart.”

“Did you get a copy of the prospectus?” Tony asks, glancing over at him.

“Oh, no I didn’t get one.” Peter glances around his spot at the table, just in case he’s overlooked it.

“Here,” Tony slides the thick packet over, “read it.”

And Peter does, it doesn’t take him long to get to the particulars.

He pores over the details. It’s for a mobile robot that could source its own energy needs. It consumed metal by breaking down its chemical bonds and converted it to stored energy, like a battery.

“This is so cool.” Peter marvels. He could think of several applications just off the top of his head.

Tony smiles, “I knew you’d appreciate it.”

“Are you buying the patent?”

“I’m buying the company.” Mr. Stark smirks but then he holds up a finger. “That’s confidential, it’s not official. Gotta convince Pep first.” Tony had a leather satchel and he slips his documents inside. “Ready to head out?”

“Yeah sure.” Peter gathers his own papers. “Where’s Happy?”

“I have him running point on a few things.” Mr. Stark doesn’t elaborate and Peter follows him out. They drop their badges off and head out into the late afternoon sunshine.

There’s a silver Audi parked in a reserved spot and Peter doesn’t waste time wondering how it got there. As with most things involving Tony, it just was. They get in and buckle up.

“Any idea what you want for dinner?”

“I’m good with whatever. “

“Any thoughts? Now’s your chance.” Tony merges into the flow of traffic and accelerates, the engine purrs as it picks up speed.

Peter shrugs, he doesn’t really know any places up here aside from fast food restaurants and he doesn’t think that’s what Mr. Stark would want.

Tony drums his thumbs on the steering wheel, thinking. “You ever been to The Cheesecake Factory?”

Pete blinks. There was one in Queens but it was more for tourists and proms. Plus it was kind of pricey. He and May frequented the quieter, family owned restaurants around their apartment.

“Maybe once with Ned?” He really wasn’t sure.

“So it’s been a while?” Tony shoots him a look from the corner of his eye. “Sound ok to you?”

“Sure, sounds good. I’m totally good with whatever, Mr Stark.”

They park near the restaurant and Tony sheds his jacket and tie, tossing them in the back. They’re seated right away and the waitress drops off bread.

Peter is happy to find that the portions are huge and the bread basket bottomless. By the time they finish their cheesecake, he’s actually comfortably full.

“I didn't know Tony Stark ate anywhere like the Cheesecake Factory.” Peter teases

“Jokes on you, Tony Stark once ate a two day old cheese burger off the floor. Not one of my finer moments and also one I’d encourage you not to repeat.” Tony’s self deprecating smile almost masked the flash of emotion behind his eyes but not quite.

Peter falls back on a joke to head off any awkwardness, “You only do that with gummy bears, Mr Stark.”

Tony gives him a long look and then narrows his eyes.

“I was eight!” Peter says defensively.

Tony’s tone is pure skepticism. “Sure you were.”

The waitress comes back with the bill. . “ Here’s this whenever you're ready. Your to-go order and cheesecakes are coming. We’re just getting them bagged up now.”

“Piece to go?” Peter wonders.

Tony’s mouth quirks, “A piece? I got a whole cake. Pep would kill me if I didn’t bring her some.”

He flips open the card holder and signs the top copy with typical flourish. Peter notices in spite of himself that the tip line has a couple of extra zeros for their waitress. Tony slips his card back into his wallet.

“I don’t know why they don’t take Starkpay.” He mutters to himself as much as Peter. “We gotta make that more of a thing.”

it makes Peter feel funny to have Tony pay for him. He’s aware that Tony foots lots of bills but he doesn’t want the man to feel like it’s expected.

The drive back to the hotel is in comfortable silence. Peter doesn’t feel like he needs to fill the space with words, he feels valued and understood. He can count on one hand the places in his life that fill him with this kind of contentment.

“The Midwest isn’t a bad place to live.” Tony ruminates. “I’ve blown through here a couple of times, used to stay at the Omni. There’s a great little curry shop downtown, only open for two hours a day, but that is some great pakora.”

“What’s it called?” Peter’s curiosity gets the better of him.

“Mr. Curry.” Tony answers and then grins.

Peter’s laugh surprises him. There’s nothing really funny about it but everything seems light and easy right now.

“Next time, remind me to take you up to the bakery in Kirkwood.’” Tony says thoughtfully, “The cookies? You’ll love ‘em. He’s a fully trained chef with a little hole in the wall shop. It’s pretty cool.”

The sun had set when they were in the restaurant and the world was muted and dark. The lights from the stores and other cars blur together and Peter is overcome with a feeling somnolence. He can suddenly barely keep his eyes open.

Tony pulls the Audi into the hotel lot and parks it in a smooth motion.

“Hey, Pete,” He calls, his voice low. “We’re here, bud.”

Peter blinks slowly and wipes at his eyes with his palms. “Ok.” He picks up his things and they head inside. The lights of the lobby are a little blinding after being outside, causing Peter to squint under the glare.

Tony hands off his cheesecake to the front desk and they take the elevator upstairs. Peter slumps against the wall. He notices that Tony still has a bag in his hand and when Peter looks at it, he lifts it up and smiles.

“Happy. He’s a late eater,” He explains.

Peter nods, but doesn't speak, words are just a bridge too far right now, which is very unlike him.

He gets his ley in the reader and the door opens. Tony lingers for a moment.“You need anything? Glass of water? Pillow menu?”

“P- There’s a pillow menu?” Peter’s not quite sure if Tony’s teasing or not, but he considers, “Nah, I'm good, Mr. Stark. Thanks for dinner.” Thanks for everything.

“Sleep tight, kid. You did good today.” Tony’s smile is warm and fond. “See you in the morning, he heads off to find Happy.

Buoyed by the praise Peter shuts his door, showers and brushes his teeth. He nearly forgets to set his alarm, but catches it before collapsing into bed and falling into a deep and dreamless sleep.

When Peter wakes up, he feels well-rested for the first time in a long time. He has to admit that this has been a nice vacation from New York. He showers, dresses and packs up his clothes and phone charger. He pushes the curtains back and takes in the view one more time. He’s kind of going to miss it here.

Gathering up his bag, he looks out the window one, more time before texting Mr. Stark and Happy that he was on his way down stairs. When he steps off the elevator, he finds Tony in the seating area and he’s just sitting down when Happy shows up.

“You’re looking better.” Happy comments, setting down a coffee carrier and handing him a cup. “Got your usual.”

“Oh thanks!” Peter takes his. It’s sweet and hot and he sighs into it happily. Only to look up and see Tony watching him with gentle amusement.

“Coffee, Am I right?” Tony smiles and reaches for his own cup.

“Yeah.” Peter takes another drink. “So the beds here are amazing. It was like being eaten by a marshmallow. Or maybe a cloud.”

Happy snorts and Tony grins at his phone, “There might be a future for you in advertising.”

They take their coffee and drive over to what amounts to an elaborate networking session with brunch being served. Of course, everyone wanted to talk to Mr. Stark so Peter kept close to Happy and munched his way through all four flavors of bagel. Not quite up to New York standards, but passable.

A few people do talk to him and ask about his internship. Fortunately, they’d worked the particulars of that cover story out long ago. He sticks mostly to the script, but tells one woman that he’s also into web design, only to be interrupted by Happy choking on his orange juice.

It takes a while to extricate themselves. Mr. Stark seems intent on making himself accessible. Although he’s not big on shaking hands, he does listen carefully when people talk to him. It strikes Peter that Tony Stark the businessman is a very different animal from Tony Stark, the Avenger, who shows up late for briefings just to troll Captain America. He’s glad he’s in a position to witness both.

They make it out mid afternoon, just beating rush hour.

“Pepper wants you to sign these.” Happy hurries up the steps and thrusts a leather portfolio at Tony.

Peter falls back in his seat, he’d slept last night but drowsiness persists.

The jet is dimmer than he remembers and warm. He can hear the scratch of Tony’s fountain pen against paper as he goes over the contracts. It relaxes him

He finds his eyes slipping closed. At some point he wakes up to find a blanket tucked around his shoulders and Tony watching him with a warm expression full of fondness.

“Go back to sleep, bud.”

And he does, easily.

He wakes to Tony gently shaking his knee. Peter stretches,

Happy’s head was rolled back against the seat, snoring solidly, but as soon as he realizes where they are, he springs into action.

It takes a while but they finally make it into Queens and Happy sits idling in the street while cars weave around them, honking

“This is for May.” Tony casually hands Peter a Cheesecake Factory bag.

“Oh wow.” Peter sniffs the bag, its definitely chocolate.

Tony regards him through the rolled down window, “Ok, take care. Stay out of trouble.”

Peter scoffs, “Of course.” They both know that’s a lie, Tony laughs.

“Bye Peter.” Happy calls impatiently, but Peter doesn’t take offense.

“Goodbye, drive safe!” He calls after the Departing Bentley.

Peter turns and bounds up the steps with the bag.

“May?”He calls when he opens the apartment door.

“Hey Baby.” May lights up when she sees him and he closes in on her for a quick hug.

He pulls back and shows her the bag, “Tony sent you a cheesecake.”

“That was thoughtful. Put it in the fridge.” She tucks her hair up. “You’re gonna help me eat it, right? Right?” When he doesn't answer her immediately she nudges him with her elbow.

“Depends on what flavor it is.”

“Thai tonight?”

“Sure, you know how I love a good larb.”

“And the larb loves you.” She quips pulling a plate from the drying rack and putting it up in the cabinet. “So how was your trip?”

“Good!” Peter washes his hands and grabs a handful of silverware to toss in the drawer.

“It worked.” He makes short work of tossing everything into the various slots and turns to look at her.

“What worked?” Her face is the picture of innocence.

“Come on.” Peter gives her a look.“You guys think I wouldn’t figure it out?

May’s eyes take on a serious tone and she reaches up and shifts a couple of his curls back into place. “He was worried. We both were. And for the record, you look less like the walking dead and a lot more like Peter.”

“Yeah, I feel more like him too,” He smiles.

“Ok, I’m going to go get ready for dinner.” She sweeps out of the kitchen, “be ready in ten!”

Peter grabs his bag and heads to his room, his phone starts ringing and he accepts the Facetime call.

“Hey!”

“ Just wanted to make sure you got home ok.”

“Yeah, Mr. Stark. You just saw me like an hour ago,” Peter teases.

“Well you never know, it’s a fast paced world, Mr. Parker.” Tony is leaning back with a washcloth covering his eyes.

Peter frowns, “Are you ok?”

“Just winding down after a hard couple day's work.”

Peter hears the soft sloshing of water, “Wait, are you in the bathtub?” He demands incredulously, squinting at the screen, were those <i>bubbles?</i>

“Yep, creature comforts and all, don’t knock it til you- oop, oh shit.”

The view shifts as the phone falls sideways, then a distinct ‘bloop’ and the viewscreen goes a blurry iridescent to blue then black.

“Mr. Stark?”

Friday’s voice comes over the blackened screen. “Mr. Stark is no longer connected.”

Peter blows out a laugh and then he chortles, he so cannot wait for the next lab day.

#friendly-neighborhood-exchange #@wonkystank #exchange fic #moodboardbyme

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nicolewoo · 4 years

Text

I’ve Been Dreaming About You Part 2

Pairing: Roman Reigns X Reader (Joe Anaoi X Reader)

Warnings: None. Just fluff!

We were just minutes away from Laura’s house when my phone dinged. I handed the phone to Laura and gave her the code to un-lock it.

“It’s an unknown caller.” Laura practically sang out to me. She opened the text and said, “He wants to know if you’re home yet.”

He was WWE superstar Roman Reigns, or as we found out today, Joe Anaoi. He’d seen me and arranged to meet me. He and his Shield brothers had told me that he’s been dreaming about me for over a year. Pick up line? Yeah, probably, but he hadn’t made a move on me. Well, there was a kiss, but he hadn’t tried to sleep with me. Moreover, he wanted to come back on his day off and take me on a date.

“Tell him almost.” I told her, and she texted the message to him.

The phone dinged again, and Laura laughed, “He told you not to text and drive.”

“Tell him I’m not.” Well, we had one thing in common. Not texting and driving was important to both of us. I waited as she typed and then waited for a response.

“He said ok. I told him I’m texting while you drive.” She assured me. The phone dinged again, “Oh! He wants to know if you’ll call him when you get home.”

I couldn’t stop the smile that came over me. “Tell him yes.” I heard her type out the response.

“This whole situation is so weird,” She pondered. I didn’t answer, but only nodded my head. “Are you seriously just going to go out with him?”

I took a deep breath as I thought. “Yes. Why not?”

She sounded upset, “What do you really know about him? I mean, I’m pretty sure Seth and Dean were telling the truth, but really, who knows?”

“We don’t.” I said thoughtfully, “But any time I go on a first date, I take chances. At least with this man, he has a public reputation to protect.”

“Good point.” She said as I pulled up in her driveway. “Anyway, thanks for taking me with you tonight, and please let me know what’s going on. I’m invested in this now.”

I just smiled, “I promise. Now get to bed. I’ve got a phone call to make. Love ya!”

“Love ya too. Talk to you tomorrow.” I drove home, excited to talk to Joe again. Thankfully, the drive was just a couple of minutes.

=====================================================

I settled into bed, plugging my phone in to charge before I called him. “Hello.”

“Hey,” I said.

“You home?” he asked.

“Yes. Home safe and sound. How is driving through Missouri at…” what time was it? I checked the clock. “1 am?”

I heard him chuckle. “Dark and boring.”

“Just cows and billboards?” I’d made that drive quite a few times, although seldom at night.

His low laugh caused butterflies in my stomach. “Something like that. What are you doing?” he changed the subject.

“I just got home, and I’m relaxing now.” I omitted the fact that I was curled up in bed.

“Do you have to work in the morning? I don’t want to keep you up if so.”

It was my turn to chuckle. “I don’t start work until late morning, so don’t worry about it.”

“So, any idea where you want to go to dinner?” He asked.

“Well, that depends on what you like.” I teased.

“I like just about anything.” He said, giving me no direction.

I thought for a second, “Well, if that’s the case, there’s a really great steak house downtown. Depending on where you stay, we may be able to walk from your hotel to it.”

He hummed his approval. “Steak will be fine.” He paused before saying, “Listen, I was thinking about coming earlier in the day. When do you get off work?”

I just laughed to myself. What he didn’t know was that I owned my own marketing firm, and Tuesdays were my lightest day. I could literally get off work by 11 am if I wanted to. I just had to work harder the day before. “I should be off by noon.” I said nonchalantly.

“Really? That’s perfect.” He said. “Any ideas what we could do?”

I smiled to myself, “Yeah, a few. You want to do the tourist stuff or spend the day seeing how the natives live?” I laughed.

“You really spend that much time in St. Louis?” He asked.

“Yes. My city is wonderful, but there’s so much more culture in St. Louis, like restaurants from different countries and art. We just don’t have those things in the semi-small town we live in, plus St. Louis is so close.” I explained.

“I want to see St. Louis the way you do.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

We talked until he arrived in Kansas City at a little after 3 am. I chided myself for staying up so late. I was going to be dragging tomorrow. That said, how often did I get the chance to talk to a WWE star?

We ended up talking a lot before Tuesday. There were sweet good morning texts, phone calls at night and even a couple of face time conversations sometimes with his Shield brothers and sometimes without.

One thing was perfectly clear; there was a connection between us. Or, I guess I should say I felt like there was a connection. I guess we’d find out for sure on Tuesday.

====================================================

I don’t think I’d ever been this nervous going on a first date. I mean, this was Roman Reigns! Well, the guy who played Roman Reigns. He was Samoan, tall, tan, built, famous, rich, kind and funny. What the heck did I think I was doing? Girls like me just don’t end up on dates with guys like that!!!

And if that weren’t enough to scare me, he’d been dreaming about me. What if I didn’t live up to his expectations? My mind raced the whole morning. By the time I drove to meet him, I was shaking from nerves. I pulled up to the front of the hotel and found Joe standing outside waiting for me. He was dressed in jeans that fit him perfectly and a black, button down shirt. His long, dark hair was tied neatly in a bun, and when he smiled at me, I thought I’d faint.

He climbed in my passenger seat, grabbed my hand and kissed the back of it before buckling in. “Hey.” His smile broadened, and I melted.

“Hi.” I answered. He still had my hand and ran his thumb over the back of it. “When did you get in?” I asked as I started driving.

“9 this morning,” He said.

My mind reached frantically to find something to say. “How was your flight?” Oh, lovely. I have the most amazing man in my car, and all I can think to say is basic small talk? I’m going to ruin this date. I just know it.

He turned to face me before saying, “The flight was good, but tell me how your meeting went yesterday.” Thank goodness he wasn’t as nervous as me, and we settled into the easy conversation we’d been having on the phone.

Neither of us had eaten, so I headed to the Italian district, called The Hill, and parked in front of my favorite deli. We ate there, in the cramped deli with its rickety old tables and chairs, every table full and a line to order snaked around and out the door. I was nervous about Joe being recognized and inundated with requests for pictures and autographs, but we were only approached by one child who was waiting in line to order. Honestly, the little tyke was so cute and polite, I found it a pleasant experience.

When our sandwiches arrived, Joe loved it. “I can see why you chose this place. It’s delicious and I’m getting the real St. Louis experience.

“I’m just getting started.” I teased and we laughed.

Once we were done, we got back on the road. I turned into Forest Park before asking Joe, “Do you like art?”

He turned to me with a raised eyebrow. “Art?”

“Let me re-phrase that. Art, botany, history or animals?” I wound the car through the curves and hills of Forest Park like only a native could.

He chuckled. “I thought you were going to plan this date.”

“And I have. We are going to one of four places in the park. You just decide art, botany, history or animals?”

I found an empty parking spot on the side of the art museum and waited for him to decide. “I feel like I should say Zoo, because isn’t it like really popular?”

“It is,” I nodded to him. “and it’s great, and if I had kids I’d be there every chance I got.”

He finished the thought, “but there will be kids everywhere. I’d get swamped.”

I just nodded. “It’s up to you though. If you don’t mind the fans, I’m more than happy to take you to the zoo.”

“I think…” he squinted his eyes a bit in contemplation. “I think you want to show me the art, so let’s go.”

I held my hands up, “Don’t put words in my mouth. We have a stellar History museum, the wonderful Jewel Box which is basically a giant greenhouse with tropical plants or our world class Art Museum.”

“Which would you pick if you could spend a few hours here?” Ah he had me. I smiled big.

“The Art Museum.” We laughed. I opened my car door and got out. He sent me a questioning look as I walked around the car and took his hand, leading him around to the front of the museum. The giant façade looked out over Art Hill, a favorite sledding spot, and a beautiful lake.

“You’d already parked at the Art Museum,” he chuckled.

He admired the statue of St. Louis riding his horse in front of the building before opening the large door for me to go in. In front of us was a giant desk, and he reached for his wallet as he went toward the desk. I pulled on his hand to stop him. “It’s free.” I explained.

“Really?” he said as he drew out his wallet and looked for the donation box. He slid $100 in it, which was sweet and generous.

“Now,” I began to slowly pace around the desk to the atrium. “Just so you know, I have to stop by and see a guy,” intentionally wording it to see if he got jealous.

“Oh really?” He took my hand staring at me to see if I’d give him any clue, half scared and half amused.

I nodded, “Yup.” I started walking us to the room on the right. “I’m completely in love with him.” I said as we stopped in front of Reclining Pan, a giant, beautifully carved satyr lounging while eating grapes with his pan pipe close at hand. “Joe, meet Pan.” I said. Joe eyed the marble, admiring the details before walking behind it to look at the back.

“So, this is the competition, huh?” he teased. “I think I can take him.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as my eyes scanned each tiny carve, each smooth curve, each rippling muscle in front of me, and as Joe came back to the front of the statue to join me, I realized the irony of both the statue and him being so muscular…. Like carved out of marble. “I just can’t decide which of you has the better abs…” I couldn’t hold back a teasing smile.

He licked his lips as he thought, “You want me to open my shirt so you can compare?” We laughed so hard, I thought one of the guards was going to tell us to stop. “Baby, I hope you’re not expecting me to have fur and hooves.” We laughed more. He was serious now, “It’s a beautiful statue.”

We wandered through room after room, up and down the stairs, taking in everything from modern sculptures to hieroglyphics. Some areas we went through faster, some slower so we could take in every detail.

Afterward, I took Joe on a drive around the city including The Arch, Graffiti Wall and some other popular places before heading to one of my favorite neighborhoods. The main street is full of shops selling everything from bread to hardware to French home decorations. We meandered stopping in the little shops along the way. Joe found some spices that he wanted to try. I pondered buying some sun-dried tomato and basil bread but decided against it. A young family with two young kids stopped to ask Joe for pictures, and he obliged.

Since I knew Joe liked beer, and we were two blocks away, I walked us over to Schlafly Bottle Works, a St. Louis local brewery. We sat at a little bar table with our drinks and talked about the art we’d seen, the city, work and so much more. The conversation was easy and relaxed.

When it was time, we returned my car to the hotel and started walking to the restaurant. We got stopped by 3 groups wanting pictures in just 2 blocks. I shouldn’t have been surprised at that, but we’d barely had any interruptions, and now we got 3. The young man behind the valet desk’s eyes bulged out when he saw us, and he quickly opened the door for us. Joe went to tip him, and the young man said he’d prefer a picture with Joe. Of course, he gave the kid both the picture and the tip.

“You made that kid’s night!” I chuckled, “and since this restaurant is owned by a former Cardinals player, it’s not uncommon to have players and other stars in here.”

“May I help you?” the young lady behind the hostess desk asked us, maintaining her professional persona even if her eyes did focus on Joe almost exclusively. Joe grabbed my hand, indicating we were together. I pondered for a second if he did that consciously or unconsciously.

“It’s under your name,” I squeezed Joe’s hand, and he returned the squeeze as he told the young lady and she walked us to a table in the middle of the restaurant.

“Could we maybe get that table instead?” Joe gave the hostess his flirty smile and I watched her melt as he pointed to a quiet corner table where we wouldn’t be so obvious.

She nodded as she cooed out, “Of course Sir.” I couldn’t help but laugh. I melted when he looked at me too.

Waiters and busers went into action. First, ice water in our glasses, then drink orders, then delivering drinks etc. One of the things I loved about this place was that it ran like a well-oiled machine. The servers were among the best in the city, and we never wanted for anything, but we also didn’t feel smothered. We sat and ate and talked and laughed. There were touches across the table. There were long eye locks. We watched as the people of St. Louis paraded past the floor length windows next to us. In short, it was perfect. This was by far the best date I’d ever been on.

After, we finished, we asked our waitress for a good calm after dinner place where we could talk, and she suggested Bailey’s Chocolate Bar. I’d heard good things about it and agreed. There, we found a dimly lit, slightly hidden corner with a loveseat and two tiny round tables in front of us each just big enough to hold a drink or two and a candle. As we enjoyed the privacy and the conversation, intimacy grew starting with hand holding, then his arm around the back of the seat, then soft, gentle kisses.

This man could KISS! My body responded to every single kiss, every single touch, torturing me with need. I wanted……. Oh! I wanted. Watching the light from the candle cross his face. Seeing his smile, smelling his cologne. I wanted, but just as my mind was getting hazy with lust, Joe broke our kiss, taking a deep breath to calm down and asked if I wanted to split a dessert with him. If I wasn’t going to give in to my sex drive tonight, I was going to give into a chocolate craving, so I agreed. The dessert was a smart way to break the sexual tension.

“So,” Joe put his arm around my shoulder casually. “Can I see you tomorrow?”

@mindofasagittaruis @lclb13

#roman reigns #joe anaoi

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miairviin · 4 years

Text

Kunst

If I only had one word to describe Vienna it would be polished. As soon as we stepped off of the plane and sought out the train that would take us to the hostel this was evident. The train smelled like a new house and the chairs were cushioned. The metro station was spotless, except for a few pieces of graffiti that covered the wall. At night, Vienna was very quiet. Our very first night, by the time Madeline and I made it to the hostel it was 11 pm. In Greece and every other country I have visited so far, the streets would be alive with movement. The restaurants would be full of people still eating. In Vienna, however, this was not the case. All the restaurants were empty, the employees sweeping the front steps and stacking chairs on tables. Luckily, we were able to find a pizza place that was just about to close. We capitalized on this, and because they were closing, high tailed it back to the hostel where we feasted like Queens on the last slices of pizza in all of Vienna.

We had an 8 am wake up call, but not necessarily because of a tour or train to catch. Simply to guarantee we would make it to the free breakfast provided by the hostel. We ate as much as we could and put together a couple sandwiches together to go. We were going to milk this breakfast for every penny. Our first day in Vienna was truly one of wandering. It was so liberating to have absolutely nowhere to be and everywhere to go. Vienna continued its pattern from the previous night, absolutely everything in perfect order. I was amazed with the clean streets and the perfectly constructed buildings. We hit the Volksgarden which was a garden complete with statues, a pond where a duck was taking in the morning sun, and unfortunately lines of small trees with brown bags tied over them. The next place we found was the Hoffburg Palace complete with a historical figure who’s name I do not know riding his majestic steed.

Next, we went to the Museumquartier, jokingly following a little girl on a scooter. Our philosophy there being that you should always trust a local on a scooter. And good thing we did, because it brought us to Museum Leopold which we had seen a brochure for in our hostel. Both Madeline and I were familiar and curious about the work of Gustav Klimt, and some of his pieces would be there. We decided to head in. Art museums are always interesting to me. I love looking at the work and reading about the different colors used and the themes the artist is trying to address. But the Museum Leopold offered so much more. They presented an in-depth biography about the artists work at the beginning of their kunst, (art) and once you were in their exhibit, some of the pieces came with a short blurb about the social ramifications the piece might have stirred up, the artists inspiration, and the story the painting was telling. It felt so much different than other museums I had visited. It felt like I was staring back in time. It was easier to picture a distraught Richard Gerstl brushing madly against a canvas when you found out his muse was the wife of his best friend, and the two carried on an affair for some time. When you knew Gustav Klimt's last words were “send for Emilie” it made his work even more beautiful, more complicated. The museum also presented art like interior design, and discussed why one architect faced public outrage when he made cafes a more open concept, appealing to the lower and middle class. Or how posters revolutionized the streets, turning them into an art gallery for the poor man. Museum Leopold left me with so much to think about. Art is truly a revolution.

After the museum, we snacked on our lunch as we walked to the next stop, Belvedere Palace. The next stop was decorated with so many spots along the way. This included one of many parks we meandered through, Beethovenplatz, a butterfly house, and many beautiful buildings. That was the thing, it never felt like I was on the way to something. Everything was a view. Everything was kunst.

Vienna came alive during the day. The part of the city we were in definitely determined the age group that dominated the sidewalks. The older, more European looking Vienna with tall buildings decorated with statues and columns separated by open streets seemed to have an older population. Conversely, the younger people seemed to occupy the contemporary looking office spaces and more city-esque streets.

The Belvedere Palace was nothing short of extravagant. The gardens were kept symmetrical and spotless, the gravel walk looked freshly swept despite the many tourists walking along it. Uniformly groomed trees lined the gravel leading up to the palace. A few empty fountains stood in between us and the palace, their porcelain statues looking only a tad out of place without water showering down upon them. The palace was so wide, so magnificent. It was hard not to think of the grandeur of days past. When people would walk through the grounds just to take the air in. I wondered if they thought one day people would travel far and wide to marvel at their home.

We turned back and headed for the St. Stephen’s Cathedral. The wind and cold chased us into a small cafe so we could stop for a moment to warm up, and from there it was right back outside and towards the cathedral. Much like Florence and the Duomo, you turned down a normal street with a souvenir shop on one side and a bar on the other and there it stood. It was tall, it was ornate, it was holy. We walked around it, trying to take it all in. It was impossible. Because the city had truly grown up around it, there wasn’t much room to wander so our next stop was simply to head in. The inside was just as awe-inspiring. The architecture was exceptionally detailed, portraits of people like Mother Theresa on the walls. There was a quiet reverence amongst all of the tourists as we walked in the specifically designated areas. I’m sure the cathedral would look beautiful in the daytime with sunlight pouring in. But seeing it at dusk gave it a gothic charm I was grateful to witness.

We left the St. Stephens Cathedral and sought out a bathroom. An employee of a souvenir shop informed us the closest bathroom was just a minute away in the metro. When we made it down the escalator, my bladder definitely dancing the delicate line of being too full for comfort, we were faced with a coin machine. Paying for the bathroom was not something new. We had run into this problem in Italy a few times. In part protest of this capitalistic concept and in part because I’m cheap, Madeline and I had taken a stand and decided to refuse these set ups. We would hold it. But not only was this classist, we noticed it was .50 for a women and .20 for a man! It was sexism! We couldn’t believe it. Since we are both angsty feminists, this was a topic of discussion (mainly jokes) that carried on for a little while.

After the bathroom fiasco, we made our way through the maze of a mall that surrounded the cathedral. Stores like Louis Vuitton were the general theme, and we joked about trying to head in and getting stopped by the door man. “You girls work on commission right? Big mistake. Huge.” We would use these lines if we ever came back. We saw the parliament building where stoic statues sat pondering the great issues of our time as they looked out over Vienna. The air was perfumed with the scent of cigarettes and horse, as a few horse drawn carriages were carrying some tourists who probably shopped at Louis Vuitton.

We decided it was time for dinner and set out to find the cheapest schnitzel we could. Ultimately it was a quiet spot down an alley near our hostel. We ate our schnitzel the German way: with ketchup mixed with mayonnaise and beer. It was fantastic. Unfortunately, nothing has touched the jaegerschnitzel I had that first night in Berlin, but it was a formidable competitor.

However our night was not finished yet. We wanted to hit Sigmund Freud park, just to say we did. It was a short walk, marked by only a few signs. There was a small piece of art, benches, grass, and it seemed to be the place to be if you were an Austrian teen on a Friday night. One thing we picked up on is how proud Austria is of their alumni. Beethoven, Motzart, Klimt, and Freud all have squares, streets, parks, and cafes all named after them.

We picked up a few small dessert pastries and headed back for the hostel. I meant to write this post as well as pen a journal entry but the 13 miles we had ended up walking day snuck up on me, and exhaustion creeped in. Plus, we had an early wake up for the bus ride to Budapest, where I am writing this from. Vienna, as Billy Joel promises, will be waiting for me when we return on Monday.

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secretradiobrooklyn · 3 years

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The Singing Senator Edition | 5.22.21

Secret Radio | 5.22.21 | Hear it here.

1. Dara Puspita - “Bertamasja”

Dara Puspita was an Indonesian band, active right from the start of rock n roll — like, they jumped into it in 1964. I love how it sounds like gnarly garage rock until the lead guitar tone pulls out and reveals a super VU sound. With a surf structure! It’s just about a perfect nugget of song.

2. Yol Aularong - “Sou Slarp Kroam Kombut Srey (Rather Die Under a Woman’s Sword)”

Yol Aularong has the wildest voice, and total commitment to rock’s magic transformative power, even in a context where he was risking his life. He does things that would make Screamin’ Jay lean back and appreciate. The arrangements and his delivery just o’erbrim with life and character.

3. The Psychedelic Aliens - “We’re Laughing”

This band is like Atomic Forest in that they’re just the answer to any collector’s wildest dreams of rarity: they’re a Ghanaian band who released exactly 8 songs and were big in the Accra scene. The groove of this song, especially in headphones, is just mesmerizing, and his delivery gets gradually more and more abstract. It sounds like Marijata and what I wish WITCH sounded more like. Undeniable.

- Glenn Miller Orchestra - “Sunrise Serenade”

4. Prewar Yardsale - “Turn On (Live Peel Session)”

We got into Prewar Yardsale through Jeffrey. Because we got into this band that he introduced us to, he said he had some rarities and other tracks. That he sent our way, and this is from that.

5. Chai - “In Pink (feat. MNDSGN)”

I think first it was the New York Times, then the Guardian, then the New Yorker all writing about this band essentially in the same week — and we definitely had no idea what they sound like. This song had just debuted on YouTube 18 hours earlier. I think, especially now through repeated listens, it’s a rad track. I love the way MNDSGN winds his vocals into the song, then has his passage, then smoothly winds his way out again. It’s like meeting a really interesting person at an already cool party.

6. Waipod Phetsuphan - “Ding Ding Dong”

Siamese music — Thai music. The guitar part is so primal and the drums so bright in the fills and meanwhile it sounds like he’s casting a spell. And what a refrain.

7. Jacques Dutronc - “J’ai me un tigre dans ma guitare”

One of the greats — I have loved every song of his I’ve ever heard. This song really makes me appreciate his band, especially his drummer.

8. Orchestra Baobab - “Kelen Ati Leen”

When we started WBFFing, it was partly because we were being blown away by the indisputable proof of James Brown’s influence on, and interaction with, the entire world. I don’t think I realized JB was a lot bigger than the Beatles in huge swaths of the world. This track is fundamentally expressing a JB groove and doing their own entire thing at the same time. The lead vocals’ flavor is just off the charts and the band is SO tight.

9. Pierre Vassilou - “Qui c’est celui-là?”

What IS this song? It’s in French but it sounds like Brazil — I guess really it sounds like Os Mutantes.

10. Betti-Betti w T.P. Orchestre Poly Rythmo - “Mahana”

The abundance of T.P. Orchestre keeps on giving. This beautiful, beautiful song is from an album they did with Cameroonian star Betti-Betti, who basically expressed the pain of her country so precisely that the whole nation mourned her passing when she died young. This melody is just stunning, and the harmony

- Stunt Double - “Be My Baby”

Ace track from some of our favorite people in all of LA.

11. Bug Chaser - “Crowley’s Kids”

I don’t know if Bug Chaser is active at the moment, but some of our favorite STL shows have been watching and/or playing with Bug Chaser. We did the City Museum rooftop twice — and we split favorite VU songs at the Lou Reed Farewell show. Two drumsets, way too much information per track, and an epic live show with a lead character who knows how to lose himself in a song.

12. Eko Roosevelt - “Attends Moi”

We learned about Eko Roosevelt by glimpsing him in a movie about Betti-Betti. He’s a handsome bearded gentleman behind a piano. The first songs by him that got us were super heavy disco, but this one has its own special power. Lately Paige has been singing and playing it on guitar — I’m kind of hoping that we hear her version of “Attends Moi” in another broadcast.

13. Manzanita y Su Conjunto - “Shambar”

One of the sweetest musical gifts in our life has been the discovery of Analog Africa’s ever-growing musical jackpot. They sent their list a note recently about an upcoming record focused on Manzanita y Su Conjunto and their path through cumbia music, and there are two tracks available now counting this one. We’ll be getting this record, this shit is amazing.

Paige: “I gotta get in touch with Mrs. Link.”

14. Lizzy Mercier Descloux - “Fire”

This song is from her 1979 debut, “Press Color,” and man, what an undeniable new character on the scene! She was based in Paris, hooked up with Michel Esteban, and together they not only established a store of crucial Parisian punkness but also published a fucking MAGAZINE called “Rock News”!! While making music like this! Eventually they moved to New York in 1977 (natch) and as far as I know just continued to be the coolest humans on Earth. I can’t wait to share some of her other tracks with you — besides the brilliant first album, there’s a whole record called “Zulu Rock”!

15. Os Mutantes - “A Minha Menina”

And as always I think: What did the Beatles think of this music?! They must have known about it, they must have. To me it really brings a whole additional level that the Beatles wanted to get to but literally didn’t know how — and Os Mutantes did.

16. Suburban Lawns - “Janitor”

Sometimes I wonder why something that sounds so objectionable can be the most vital music in the world. Like, nothing about the lyrics or the way this song is sung should be appealing — and instead, this song is brilliantly undeniable. It’s even better when you see them performing it. If you don’t know what they look like, I guarantee you she will be a surprising character.

My favorite words on it ever are something someone wrote as a comment under the video of their TV performance of this song: “Spent 15 years as a janitor. Can confirm every word.”

17. Sinn Sisamouth and Ros Serey Sothea - “Mou Pei Na”

These two are just amazing characters in the pre-Khmer Rouge Cambodian music world. Ros Serey Sothea’s voice is totally unique, and Sisamouth has a sincere urgency that gives the whole song a surprising narrative shape.

18. Ranil - “Ángel Terrenal”

Analog Africa again — the cure for what ails you. They are truly combing the world for music that amazes. They played the length of the Amazon river and did their best to stay out of big cities after a bad experience with a record label. So they released these psychedelic jungle masterpieces on little slabs of vinyl that they sold up and down the river. Can you freaking believe that?

- Salah Ragab - I believe you are responsible for telling us about Salah Ragab, Josh Weinstein. So good.

Also, as promised, further information about glue traps and why they’re so harsh (and how to pull off a successful rescue!) can be found here.

19. Dagi D - “Beka”

I feel like I knew my musical life had changed when I started thinking of every visit to an Ethiopian restaurant as a valuable moment to learn as much about the music as possible — especially Meskerem in St. Louis, it must be said. It turns out modern Ethiopian pop music is super addictive and can easily get stuck in your head for days.

20. Raxstar - “Jaaneman”

We’re still pretty new to Kensington, our neighborhood in Brooklyn. We knew that a Muslim holiday called Eid al-Fitr was happening, and when it was happening, but we were still surprised by what a joyous holiday it was in our neighborhood. Everyone of all ages was out in their fines, which involved a whole lot of sequins and shining metallic threads. The men wore a lot of caftans and those excellent long shirts and/or jackets, most with beautiful patterns. We went for a long walk and just enjoyed seeing a holiday at full pitch — excited kids and tutting grandmas, people carrying big flower arrangements (in the shape of a crescent and star!), heavy-looking tins of food headed toward a feast, even fireworks overhead. We crossed paths with a group of dudes all dressed up in various states of celebration, from a sharp Western-style two-piece suit to an even sharper South Asian suit with a Nehru collar and snug caftan. It looked like they had just finished the parental part of the night and were deciding where and who to meet up with — exactly like, say, Thanksgiving night in your hometown. It felt like, from Coney Island to McDonald, Church to Cortelyou, it was New Year’s Eve for everyone but us.

After our walk we returned to our apartment and set up a little folding table out back to enjoy a glass of wine in the warm air. Our neighbors across the fence were still in the midst of family time, with tons of kids running around, including a teensy little girl on a tiny little pink scooter and a gaggle of beautifully awkward teens in the posture and attitude that says “stand by your cousins and let me take your picture.” As the evening wore on and the parents drifted back inside, the young adult contingent got a speaker going, and soon we were catching tracks we’d never heard before. The one that made us first pay attention was “Jaaneman,” with the vocalist’s super-charismatic delivery and priceless accent. We found ourselves Shazaming song after song, and thus started learning about Desi hip hop, a whole world of East Asian immigrant tracks that offer a lens into life in the US and UK that I haven’t really seen since watching “My Beautiful Laundrette” many years ago. Fascinating!

“Jaaneman” literally means “soul of me,” but translates to “my love” or “my darling.” Check out Raxstar — I’d love to see him play SNL and get an impression of what he’s like live. Just last month he released “Forever Jaaneman,” which updates his original smash hit and is also a very strong track.

21. Nate Smith - “Spress Theyself”

One of the last shows we got to see in St. Louis was Nate Smith at Jazz at the Bistro, and holy smokes, what a pleasure to see him do his thing up close. I love this solo album because it sounds like a practice sesh that died and went to heaven. It doesn’t have a song’s logic, but it does follow the feel of a great intuitive exploration of a beat, wandering through subdivisions and feel variations with complete ease.

22. Jefferson Airplane - “White Rabbit”

This is Paige’s call. I think it’s cool because I can hear the direct connection between this and Erkin Koray’s Anatolian psych rock style, which I previously had no idea about. This listen through, we’ve both been appreciating how overwhelming massive Grace Slick’s voice is.

23. Marie France - “Dereglée”

Another cut off the fantastic Born Bad Records comp “Paink,” and more proof that punk was happening in other languages at the same time. (Though I think they called themselves “méchant”… or denied being méchant, depending) The album art reveals that Marie France happened to look uncannily like a punk Marilyn Monroe, which only makes both MM and MF cooler.

24. Operation Ivy - “One of These Days”

I was never for one second a punk in high school, but I knew that the Op Ivy t-shirt was the essence of functional punk.

- Shin Joong Hyun - “Moon Watching”

25. Shin Joong Hyun - “Spring Rain”

This guy has an otherworldly sense of melody and performance that indie rock only starting catching up with decades later. This is the guy sometimes referred to as the “Korean godfather of rock.” He was active from the early ‘60s til 1975, when he was arrested, tortured and banned in South Korea. Eventually, the leader who had hammered down on him died, and he was able to begin piecing his life back together. These iconic, evocative, cinematic recordings would sound great in any decade.

Spoiler: it wasn’t! We walked across the bridge and it was a thoroughly magical New York evening.

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pcurrytravels · 6 years

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Thoughts: New Orleans (Part V)

It was day three in New Orleans, and once again we woke up early for breakfast. We found out that there was a location of Daisy Duke’s in the CBD that was even closer to our hotel so we went there. I decided to just go ahead and get breakfast this time…..with a side of crawfish hushpuppies. I have to say, I actually liked this location of Duke’s better. The service was quicker, the prices were slightly cheaper (might have something to do with how the other location is in the more touristy French Quarter) and the sweet tea was even better. Oh, and they offered crawfish hushpuppies here while the other location didn’t. And yes they were delicious.

After we finished, my mom went back to the room while I took a little morning stroll, exploring the CBD some more before I decided to give PJ’s Coffee on Canal a try. PJ’s Coffee is the ubiquitous coffeehouse in New Orleans (I literally only saw two Starbucks the entire time I was there), and after trying their product I can easily see why. Remember when I said in the Mini-Guide how their blended Granita drinks are like Frappuccinos but better? Well, they are. They’re smoother, sweeter, and likely made with better quality coffee beans (I mean, New Orleans is a port city so I imagine they’d have pretty easy access to a number of things, including coffee beans). So yes, if you visit New Orleans and see a PJ’s Coffee (and you definitely will), be sure to stop by and give them a try.

Going back to the room to chill for a minute, we then set off to the National WWII Museum. We used the St. Charles Streetcar to get there, and I must say, riding this one was a much more pleasant experience than any of our rides on the Canal or Riverwalk streetcars. Although it can still get crowded, this line is rarely ever standing-room only. Unlike Canal, it also has windows that open, which is surprisingly a very effective means of keeping things cool on board (the Riverwalk line has windows that open too, but that line is usually packed with people and, thanks to the resulting heat attracted to human bodies, an open window is not very effective). It felt nice being able to easily grab window seats without having to worry about having to push through people upon reaching our stop.

Down St. Charles Avenue, through the CBD and Warehouse District, we got off at Lee Circle which was, almost appropriately, right next door to the Civil War Museum and a block away from the National WWII Museum. Why am I saying it was appropriate? Because Lee Circle is named after Robert E. Lee; you know, the Confederate general?

Yeah, modern New Orleans may be a fairly liberal, morally loose and open-minded place, but it’s still the South. There’s going to be reminders of the antebellum and Jim Crow eras all over the place, and that includes public “memorials” to the Confederacy. Ugh. Thankfully, last year the local government decided to remove the statue of Lee that sat atop the pillar pictured above. As they should, because reminders of the more shameful parts of American history such as that need to be in museums, not shamelessly displayed in public (now what they need to do is change the name back to Tivoli Circle or something but I guess that’s none of my business).

Speaking of museums, the National WWII Museum is great……if you’re into the topic. I don’t know if it’s because I learned all about it in school (I remember having one history teacher in high school who was particularly passionate about this era for some reason so I already feel like I studied it to death) or what, but it just didn’t do much for me. Aside from the exhibit about servicemen of color in the War, the Japanese internment exhibit, an infographic which detailed the threat of Nazi Germany, Fascist Italy and the Japanese Empire and the C-47 hanging in the lobby, nothing about the museum really caught my attention. I honestly feel like it was just too small as my mom and I were in and out of there in less than thirty minutes, which is weird when considering how highly regarded the museum is (I’m also VERY happy we got in with the power pass as the admission price is WAY too high at face for what you get in my opinion). It’s a shame the Civil War Museum next door wasn’t included in the Power Pass as I always found the Civil War more interesting than World War II to be honest.

Once we were done, we hopped back on the streetcar to Canal and from there made our way to Jackson Square once more. We first stopped inside the PJ’s for a moment to enjoy frozen lemonades and air conditioning. You’d think we would have an easier time getting used to this weather, seeing that our family originates out of Alabama and Mississippi in addition to being the sort of climate our ancestors were forced to do unpaid labor in for hundreds of years but I digress. Upon cooling down, we stopped to listen to the live brass band for a few minutes before heading into The Cabildo.

The Cabildo is one of two twin buildings which flank the St. Louis Cathedral. Originally serving municipal purposes, the two of them as well as the 1850 House have been repurposed into outposts of the Louisiana State Museum. The Cabildo in particular once operated as the city hall, in addition to being the site where the Louisiana Purchase commenced, but it now hosts an exhibit about Louisiana’s history; spanning from its settlement by the French in the 1600’s to the Reconstruction era. Now, it was fairly interesting and all, with paintings, artifacts and templates about the battle of New Orleans, the region’s indigenous peoples, the differences between French and Spanish colonial rule/policy, West African slaves and free people of color, the Louisiana Purchase and the area’s history with pirates, but overall, I didn’t find it as captivating as The Presbytere.

On the other side of the Cathedral, this not-quite identical building (if you pay close attention, you’ll notice it’s painted in a lighter color and has a flatter, more squared-off roof than the Cabildo /architecture nerd) was originally a courthouse, but now serves as a museum for Mardi Gras, Napoleon’s death mask…………and Hurricane Katrina.

I can remember the news reports like it was yesterday. Having been under the impression that hurricanes were just a Florida thing or something, needless to say, I was scratching my head in confusion at the whole ordeal. My fourteen year-old brain was struggling to comprehend how a hurricane could both reach and do that much damage to somewhere so far inland from a coast (I managed to figure it out a few science classes later), but I still just shrugged it off and thought “oh, they’ll be fine, Florida gets through it every time!” However, upon seeing video footage of vast swaths of houses underwater along with thousands of people crowding into the Superdome, that’s when the severity of the situation hit me.

Even more upsetting was how horribly the situation was handled. People were without food and water for DAYS after the storm made landfall (something we’re seeing a repeat of with Hurricane Maria in Puerto Rico basically). It definitely should not have taken nearly a week for FEMA to show up. Then again……the overall catastrophe had more to do with the failure of the area’s levee and floodwall system than it did with the storm itself. I have to ask, why were they in such bad shape in the first place? Many theories and conspiracies still abound to this day, but either way, what happened was a tragic mess that could have been avoided in so many ways.

There were a number of pictures on display of the aftermath, as well as video footage of the day the storm made landfall, and it all felt so……..eerie. Sad, but eerie. To think this eerily deserted city, under siege by a raging, violent storm, is the same vibrant, energetic place that we had been walking around in for the past several days. I almost had to look out the door just to make sure everything was alright; even though, in a lot of ways, things aren’t totally alright (…….a whole thirteen years later). Houses and buildings devastated by Katrina can still be spotted all over the city, and although I didn’t go see it for myself, it’s been said that the Lower Ninth Ward (arguably the most devastated neighborhood of all) has more or less been deemed a lost cause and they gave up on rebuilding a long time ago. New Orleans has definitely rebounded, but it’s still heartbreaking to see so many lingering signs of this catastrophe.

After finishing the Katrina exhibit, we walked through a hall that featured tidbits about Hurricane Betsy, another devastating hurricane that took place back in 1965 (although still not as bad as Katrina) before walking past the random sight of Napoleon’s death mask and upstairs to the Mardi Gras exhibit. Granted, it was more or less a retread of Mardi Gras World, aside from focusing less on floats and more on the history of the various krewes, the “throws” (beads, doubloons and the like) and costume design. It was still a lot of fun none the less. Alas, the clock was ticking, and we wanted to cram one more thing in before embarking on our cruise, so it was off to the lower Pontalba building for the 1850 House.

The Pontalba buildings are two, four-story, red-brick twin buildings which flank Jackson Square. Built in the 1840’s by an accomplished businesswoman known as Micaela Pontalba, they were originally designed as Parisian-style luxury rowhomes, with high-end retail and dining establishments being housed on the first floor. Having fallen into disrepair by the 1930’s, they were then extensively repurposed into apartments, which are still in use to this day. The portion now known as the 1850 House remained untouched, however, instead being used by the Louisiana State Museum as a time capsule exhibit. Within, you’ll be given a glimpse into the lives of middle-class New Orleanians in the 1800’s.

Through a small courtyard, and up a rickety and old-fashioned spiral staircase, you’ll be greeted to a template which provides some information about past occupants of the row home which leads to the parlor and dining room. Granted, each room is protected by a glass railing, likely to prevent damage to the various antiques as it is a self-guided tour after all. Basically, all you can really do is look on at the rooms and their vintage furnishings from the hallway. On the third floor, you’ll find the bedrooms and the nursery and going from there (the layout of the place was pretty confusing so I’m not sure what direction we were going in at this point), you’ll see an exterior room which served as the slave and/or servant quarters until you reach the kitchen and storage room at the base of the house. Now, I’m a vintage/antique nerd, so I enjoyed it, but it probably would have been just a bit more enjoyable if they offered a guided tour, thus allowing you to explore the rooms in detail.

Oh wait, what time is it? Oh, time for the Creole Queen Paddlewheel Cruise! We hopped on the Riverwalk line of the streetcar once more and took it to Spanish Plaza (a monument to Spain’s colonial legacy in the area) which is where the boat was docked. The Creole Queen is one of a number of paddlewheel boats in New Orleans which offer old-fashioned river cruises. Once you hop aboard, you’ll be treated to stunning views of the city and the river (provided you can ignore its gross and oily brown hue) while the guide gives you a little history lesson. Granted, most of the stuff he was saying I already found out from the other tour guides and museums I went to, but it was still enjoyable nonetheless. As I looked around and took pictures of the CBD skyline, Jackson Square from afar, Algiers, the New Orleans port, the old Domino sugar factory, the plantations in the distance and even more Hurricane Katrina ruins, we came to a stop at the Chalmette Battlefield and National Cemetery; the site of the Battle of New Orleans in 1815.

We got off the boat and walked towards an old (creepy-looking and probably haunted) plantation home known as the Malus-Beauregard House, where a man dressed in 19th-century military regalia waited for us. From there, he walked us to this spot underneath a very large oak tree, next to a small bayou, where he began to talk about the Battle of New Orleans. And honestly? I don’t know if it was the story itself or if this particular guide was just boring, but he wasn’t able to hold my attention. It was also hot AF and there were mosquitoes and dragonflies swarming all over the place, so I just took a few pictures of the battlefield and the house before making my way back to the air-conditioned, bug free boat; savoring some bread pudding while waiting things out.

Upon arriving back in New Orleans, we rushed over to Audubon Aquarium, seeking to cram in one more attraction before resting up for our ghost tour in the French Quarter. You better leave the lights on for this one.

#new orleans #louisiana #southern u.s.#u.s. gulf coast #national wwii museum #lee circle #french quarter #the cabildo #the presbytere #pontalba buildings #chalmette battlefield #malus-beauregard house #battle of new orleans #paddlewheel cruise #hurricane katrina #mardi gras #mississippi river

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coreymichaelsmithson · 7 years

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I Never Told You About Peoria

Truth be told, I've been skimming a little on this journal, taking time out now and then to craft essays that address only the highlights of my journey. As a result, I'm leaving out far too much. There have been plenty of amazing interstitial moments throughout, small but significant passages between places, lots of encounters and experiences that can't easily be folded up into other topics. For example … a few weeks ago, between leaving Wisconsin and hitting up St. Louis, I decided to check out Peoria, Illinois.

I know, I know. "Peoria?" you say, clutching your pearls. "But whatever for?"

Peoria is one of those towns that everybody uses as a conversational placeholder, a town you refer to when you need a contrast to more cosmopolitan-seeming places like Manhattan or … wherever. The long-standing quip about any groundbreaking theatrical production is that "it'll never play in Peoria." Truth is, though, the city has a real rough-n-tumble narrative, one full of bootlegging and beaver pelts, and it's far more colorful a place than I ever would have guessed.

There's a long tradition of gin mills and dirty vaudeville and "out-of-town" tryouts there; I've found lots of photos of grand old theaters and music halls, along with many bawdy images of burlesque stars performing today. Think of feather fans and bills in garters, boobs draped with pearls. Booze runs through every facet of the city's story … from its early days as a distillery boomtown, to its run-ins with Bible-waving temperance sourpusses. Carry Nation, who seems to be haunting my steps these days, made a big splash there on the lecture circuit, selling tiny souvenir hatchets to fund her crusades. Later, during Prohibition, it was the center of the universe as far as illegal hootch went, with a booming speakeasy scene and a rogue's gallery of deep-pocketed mobsters. Chicago gets all the jazz and glory for that époque, but Peoria was where people went to make and distribute the juice.

There's a wonderful museum downtown, right on the Illinois River, all about the town's history and its relationship to various industries … things like fur trapping, beer brewing, and automobile design. I caught a great planetarium show there about the constellations, none of which I'm likely to remember. I've never, in a lifetime of trying, been any good at remembering how to connect all those dots in the ways I'm supposed to. Sorry, but that gob of pinpricks over there doesn't really resemble a bear, and that cluster of speckles up yonder doesn't look like a virgin. I would be absolutely hopeless as a sailor. But I digress … the point is, Peoria was so much more educational and interesting a destination than popular opinion would have it. It just goes to show, it's not fair to disparage a place without having seen it first.

I drove around a bit, just feeling out the vibe of the town. Right after I left the small and uncongested downtown, and headed uphill into the heart of things, I found a historic district with lots of lacy Victorian houses. Within minutes, though, I sensed a scary, seedy undercurrent moving beneath its quaint looking blocks. Tough-looking ladies loafed on the gingerbread porches … wild-haired women without makeup, their mouths crimping on cigarettes, women who looked like they had seen a thin mattress or two. Teenagers glared at me while they exchanged hidden objects, and one of them pointed towards his waistband. I heard a gunshot nearby and several snarling dogs behind the fences, and felt something ugly rising to meet the surface. Peoria, it seems, has some hidden depths. So it was with some relief that I hit the road again.

One of the most difficult aspects of this driving business is that I have to keep both hands on the wheel for long stretches of time. As a result, I can't take photographs as often as I'd like. I'll be whizzing by a spectacular sight on the freeway, and wish that I could take a picture of it, but then something prevents me from doing so: there's no shoulder to pull over onto, or the narrow road prevents me from turning around, or the aggressive tailgater won't let me slow down. The tailgaters are the worst. I can't believe how many drivers there are in this country, how overpopulated we've become, how rare solitude is these days on the road. Even in the most remote stretches of farmland, I can only go a few minutes without encountering another driver. This might be fortuitous if I were to get stranded somewhere, but it's a source of considerable frustration when I'm eager to take a picture.

Beyond those problems presented by being a driver rather than a passenger, though, there are other reasons why I can't or won't snap the shutter. Sometimes I find myself not wanting to photograph what I'm looking at. Sometimes I'm overwhelmed by what I'm witnessing, and can't even move quickly enough to dig out my camera. Sometimes I just want to examine something with my heart and my brain and soul, and not try to distill it through documentation.

Sometimes it's better just to keep looking.

Still, I want to get across to you, my faithful companion and friend, what I've been seeing on the road, so here's a partial list of things I saw but could not photograph.

A hundred tilting barns and a hundred smooshed armadillos and a hundred rotting silos on the side of the interstate. Twenty naked men playing with a beachball in a rural swimming pool. Sunrise over the brown-grey stubble of Iowa, sunlight bouncing among the clouds of Minnesota, rays ramming through the thunderheads of Missouri. Winding two-lane blacktops of the lower Ozarks, so tight and screwy and steep that my knuckles stayed white for hours on end. Farmhouses clinging to hilltops of The Driftless. The bright eyes of a museum docent on her 74th birthday.

Murmurations of starlings … rolling, mercurial, like a wandering cloud over the fields. Flickers erupting from the brush. Perch leaping in the still waters of a Wisconsin lake, the ripples running peacock and gold under the sunset. Windpumps silhouetted against the violet of twilight. A huge and unobstructed sky, one of the biggest skies I've ever seen, like a speckled dome of blue and white arching over Arkansas.

Handmade "REPENT" signs at the edge of corn. Crosses jabbing up from the crossroads. Dead possums bloating by the roadside. Vultures pecking at roadkill. The darkened farm where Ed Gein did his dirty work.

And there were all the things I couldn't photograph anyway. The cries of loons, the smell of fresh-cut pine in the Iron Range, the stink of dead skunks. The teeth-chattering rumble of gravel roads, the worrisome flap-flap-flap of my first flat tire. Racing alongside a locomotive as our paths sliced together through a plain, then smiling with goofy unbridled childlike joy as its whistle echoed through the valley. The feeling I had as I stood beside the Illinois River, bright and blue under a freeway bridge … reminding me of other rivers, reminding me that I still had places to go, reminding me to keep moving, reminding me to tell you someday about what I learned in Peoria.

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micaramel · 4 years

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Artist: Derek Fordjour

Venue: Contemporary Art Museum St. Louis, St. Louis

Exhibition Title: Derek Fordjour: SHELTER

Date: January 17 – August 23, 2020

Curated by: Wassan Al-Khudhairi, Misa Jeffereis

Click here to view slideshow

Full gallery of images, press release and link available after the jump.

Images:

Images courtesy of Contemporary Art Museum St. Louis, St. Louis

Press Release:

Derek Fordjour: SHELTER presents multiple bodies of work that explore issues of race, identity, aspiration, and inequality. Fordjour’s Player Portraits line the Project Wall, forming a procession toward the exhibition’s entryway. Each portrait, from a series of 100, is made through the artist’s signature process of layering and tearing, painting and repainting. Fordjour employs and recycles humble materials—cardboard, newspaper, charcoal—making reference to the hand-me-downs that were passed along to relatives in Ghana, and the wear and tear of buildings he inhabited as a child in Memphis, Tennessee. The notion of making something out of nothing, and the dignity found in making something old new again, are themes evident in Fordjour’s material process.

SHELTER is a site-specific installation that resembles a ramshackle structure composed of corrugated metal walls, dirt floor, and a sound piece that mimics the effect of rain striking a tin roof. We are placed at the heart of a storm. With detritus culled from the urban environment, the installation creates a place of safety amidst crisis and impending harm. SHELTER reminds us of the unstable conditions in which art is often made and of human migrations across the earth, the millions seeking shelter from a multiplicity of storms. Vulnerability is central to Fordjour’s work, and the unsteadiness of dirt underfoot reinforces the funhouse effect of his portraits and sculptures. Hanging in this makeshift environment are Fordjour’s scenes. Fordjour uses the metaphor and pageantry of sport as a way of considering questions of marginalization and inequity in America. The artist’s paintings explore both the vulnerability and strategy required of individuals as they navigate legacies of injustice and socio-political bias. Cheerleaders in splits, drum majors in backbends, athletes posing in awkward groups—these paintings convey an uneasy feeling of display and exposure. The artist sheds light on the pressures of exceptionalism and performance, while questioning the extent to which trailblazing figures are truly able to disrupt patterns of longstanding systemic inequality in the US.

The surface of Fordjour’s paintings defy the labor of their making. Over many years of experimentation, the artist developed his unique painting process using humble materials, chosen for their affordability: charcoal, newspaper, and cardboard. To make his paintings, the artist begins by creating a base layer made up of tiled colored paper on canvas. Fordjour then wraps the canvas in newspaper and tears away at the surface to create an interaction between the layers. This process is repeated several times before Fordjour adds small pieces of paper to the surface, on top of which he paints the subject. Using spray paint, charcoal, oil pastel, and acrylic to create the figures, the final painting alternately conceals and reveals underlying layers to create a rich, textured surface. The repair and disrepair of the canvas reflects the conditions of abandonment and scarcity present in the artist’s upbringing in the South. There is also a sense of beauty inherent in the act of breathing new life into the old. Fordjour’s vibrant color palette takes cues from his experience growing up in the South, his exposure to Americana and Pop, and from such specific items as candy wrappers, African fabrics, and athletic team colors.

Fordjour’s series Worst to Be First refers to the notion of “firsts” as markers of societal achievement. As desirable as it is to be the first African American to achieve recognition in a chosen field, the experiences of isolation, heightened pressure, and performance are daunting. Fordjour highlights the competitive nature ingrained in our societal structures, which invariably validates notions of injustice. This series is rooted in the artist’s lived experience, personal history, and shared narrative of family members, colleagues, and friends. In Worst to Be First II (2019) Fordjour pictures a military figure holding an object of significance in a nighttime landscape. By suppressing individual features of any specific person, Fordjour invokes multiple narratives referencing a legacy of military achievement among men of color. The everyman quality of his portraits is a strategic effort to connect many historical narratives.

Rally Finale (2017) is part of the artist’s crowd painting series, in which figures are rendered in iconographic terms—tightly arranged in a composition free of background or foreground. Fordjour’s crowd paintings have two functions, both formal and conceptual. Formally, he finds inspiration from particular moments when multiple figures form a dense crowd in paintings. He consciously looks to works like Jacob Lawrence’s The Migration Series, Panel no.1, Renoir’s Bal du moulin de la Galette, and Archibald J. Motley Jr.’s Blues for compositional inspiration. He then sketches a loosely constructed tessellation, a form of tiling within a picture plane made popular by M.C. Escher.

Conceptually, the interlocking patterns evoke intimate social patterns and systems that reveal the interconnectedness of communities and cultures. In crowd series paintings like Rally Finale, the figures are squeezed into a chock-a-block formation. The closeness of the figures reveals a tension between difference and sameness. The connectedness and relation of people to one another is undeniable. Each figure overlaps another regardless of race, social class, bias, or political preference.

This particular work was created in early 2017 as a response to the transition from the Obama to the Trump administration, a time of political upheaval and unrest, and during the peak moments of a changing of the guard.

More recently Fordjour has been working collaboratively by constructing large-scale, immersive installations that combine the distinct arms of his practice: painting, sculpture, and sound. The artist often situates visitors in precarious environments where the very elements of construction—a dirt floor, for example—throw audiences off-balance. In 2015 Fordjour presented UPPER ROOM, replete with a loose crushed stone floor, based on a prayer room his mother maintained at home, where Christian hymns resonated on the interior of the sculpture while sounds from an NYC police scanner played on the exterior. The resulting tension between the two sounds reveal the desperation of a mother seeking refuge and safety for her three black sons through faith.

The artist’s installations are rooted in personal history that also refer to larger narratives—in this case, by exposing his mother’s ritual seeking of solace from the threat of police violence for her sons, he also engages larger questions of personal safety in public spaces and the uncertainty of finding refuge.

Fordjour’s 2019 installation STOCKROOM Ezekiel honors the life of Ezekiel Archey, a convict laborer who worked under Alabama’s brutal convict leasing program. In the late 19th century, condemned criminals were sentenced to work without compensation in coal mines, steel plants, and molasses distilleries. About this installation Fordjour explains, “I’m thinking a lot about incarceration and my own experiences with the criminal justice system, and growing up in the 90s and seeing the crack era, and where we are now with sentencing.” With its dirt floors and barbed-wire fencing, STOCKROOM Ezekiel points to the tragic persistence of injustice that defines American life for black and brown people.

Derek Fordjour (b. 1974, Memphis, Tennessee) has exhibited at Night Gallery, Los Angeles; the Brooklyn Academy of Music; and Josh Lilley Gallery, London, among other venues. He has received commissions for public projects from the Whitney Museum Billboard Project and from the Metropolitan Transit Authority of New York City for a permanent installation at the 145th Street Subway Station in Manhattan. He was the 2016 Sugarhill Museum Artist-in-Residence, a resident of the 2017 Sharpe Walentas Studio Program in New York City, and was awarded the 2018 Deutsche Bank NYFA Fellowship. He frequently serves as a lecturer at institutions and as a Core Critic at Yale University School of Art. His work is held in collections throughout the United States and Europe, including the Studio Museum in Harlem; Perez Art Museum, Miami; Brooklyn Museum of Art; Los Angeles County Museum of Art; and the Whitney Museum of American Art. Fordjour is a graduate of Morehouse College in Atlanta, Georgia, and earned a Master’s Degree in Art Education from Harvard University and an MFA in painting from Hunter College.

Link: Derek Fordjour at Contemporary Art Museum St. Louis

from Contemporary Art Daily https://bit.ly/3l37UHG

#micaramel

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felixeberstark-blog · 5 years

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June 13, 2015

Heather’s exultant return was covered by every local news channel. KCCI pounced on the story, whipping its audiences into a frenzy. The media undauntedly dug further and further into her experience, getting all the juicy details and peddling them to the public. During one of her interviews, she acknowledges the involvement of the other victims but convincingly steered away from revealing anything about me; although that made me feel safe, I was shaken by the fact I was never going to get the recognition I deserved for ending something that would’ve otherwise continued. It’s hard to see the world with the same pair of eyes after experiencing something as morbid and shattering as being held captive and being both physically and psychologically violated upon. To my surprise, though, I’ve recently developed a weird sense of humor in regards of the aftermath of my kidnapping. I would wake up from nightmares taking me back inside that basement, but after the initial state of petrification, I’d burst out into prolonged laughter thinking about the crazy things I’ve been through. Part of you changes after overcoming something like that. You become scarred and an eerie, unsettling feeling washes over you regularly and when you least expect it. However, the kind of trauma I’m stuck with isn’t quite as serious as I thought it would be. The first year of college is over for most of my peers, but not for me. Since I’ve started later than everyone else, I’m going to have to take summer classes and workshops to catch up if I want to graduate in time with everybody else. My favorite class right now is photojournalism, but I have a feeling that’s about to change since my teacher Kathlyn is on maternity leave and was just replaced by the unpleasant Mr. Paul. I can already tell I’m going to have a hard time dealing with him. The day I learned about the change, our classroom was switched and I was so close to being late. I had arrived to our usual one right on time only to see a post-it on the door saying there was a change, so I ran as fast as I could to the other side of the building and had to badger my way in, making it clear that we weren’t notified about the switch-up. He wasn’t convinced at first and wouldn’t let me in until two other classmates showed up right behind me and claimed the same thing. He allowed us to come in then, but for some reason he was particularly annoyed with me for disturbing his class which at that point, hasn’t even started. Last weekend, Ryan had a road trip planned to St. Louis where one of his favorite bands was performing. He asked me to tag along while Tye visited his parents in Dallas. He had an extra ticket for me, and so before I even knew it I was spontaneously packing for our trip together, something I was so excited about. As soon as we made it into the city, we made a quick stop at the historical museum before grabbing lunch at one of the top oyster bars where he had a large dish of crocodile meat he made me try, and I absolutely loved it! At night, we attended the concert that took place at a nice venue overlooking the Gateway Arch. I had my camera on me throughout the whole thing, and enjoyed experimenting creatively with different angles and shutter speeds while Ryan embraced the music and the atmosphere. When it comes to living and experiencing life, I’ve realized but only recently that I was more preoccupied in capturing and preserving moments instead of living them. Ever since I got my smartphone, I’ve been fascinated by how quick one can snap a picture of a moment so unique and spontaneous it’s almost impossible to see it coming. When I was sixteen, my parents finally agreed on helping me out in purchasing a professional digital camera, and ever since I wrapped my hands around it, I didn’t want to let it go. Ryan would laugh at me every time I whipped my camera out to take a photo of an old distressed barn, a rustic windmill or random people hanging out in public places. I’ve always had a huge fascination with capturing little moments that would otherwise be lost, forgotten or simply overlooked. To put it simply, I enjoy looking at the smaller picture instead of the bigger one. When I was young and I’d be spending summer afternoons hanging out at home, I’ve always had the distinct pleasure of revisiting my childhood memories through photographs. My mom had dozens and dozens of family albums on our living room bookshelves; I occasionally looked through them every time my memory of those photos faded, and I was surprised at how my attention switched from looking at the main subjects of the photographs to looking at the little details in the corners of the background. If you think about it, family photos can get repetitive and boring; you don’t really get much by seeing people posing for the camera with either their fake smiles or serious looks (as if the photo was a mandatory punishment). It’s stupid and eventually becomes redundant not to mention a fake representation of what those moments actually felt like. I’ve grown up taking those kinds of typical photos because I didn’t know better, and people seemed to hate it when I took their photos without their knowledge. I have to admit, though, sometimes taking photos of people either talking or in motion can bring in unfavorable and unflattering results, but I’ve somehow grown to like them. It’s catching instances like these that would otherwise go unnoticed that’s intriguing to me, and the camera’s powerful capability of instantly snapping a shot exactly when I wanted it to was very satisfying. My talent in developing and embracing my own norms of spontaneous amateur photography began with my phone since the convenient size of the tool came in quite handy when walking down the street or just going through my daily routine. My camera was too big for me to carry everywhere and its size obviously made it harder for me to take sneaky photos, so my phone’s decent camera became my best friend and second eye. This kind of photography was practiced privately; I’d take the photos without anyone’s knowledge and prevent from sharing them, scared the people in them would take offense and make me delete them. My intentions when I take those kind of photos is pure and in no way harmful. One day, though, I decided to share the beauty I saw in them with the outside world, and although I received a lot of backlash at first, mostly from Rosamunde who seemed obsessively boastful and self-conscious with an excessive concern regarding how she would be perceived if anyone saw photos she disapproved of, often started vocal uproars with a haughty attitude that created this feeling of disgrace I feel toward her. On the other hand, once I started taking the risk of posting spontaneous photos of my friends online, I was happy to get compliments on some of them even though different people focused on different things; the subject’s positioning during the taking of the photo, the setup, the angle, the lighting as well as other minor factors. My confident rose and my amateur photography style bled into my formal photography as people developed an interest and new expectations regarding how they wanted to be seen. Although some tried to monitor my behavior and catch me either taking a photo or filming them and often failed, they still enjoyed knowing those photos were taken without them noticing, and that by the end of our day together, they’ll find pictures of them online; that excited them. While a lot of people hate being photographed, I’ve had friends who took that as a huge compliment and enjoyed my photography. Ryan is one of those people; he’s at ease with himself and the camera absolutely loves him. He has a carefree attitude regarding who he is, the way he dresses and his occasionally feminine mannerisms. Then again, he has lived longer than me and something tells me he’s been bullied, criticized and judged before for how he used to maintain himself and the life choices he made. He’s fifteen years older than me, though, and I’m sure I’ll eventually grow a similar attitude toward the world. At least I hope I do. Our trip ended back in Iowa, eating pizza straight out of the box on a dirty sidewalk. We got two for a discounted price of five dollars. We pulled this old trick him and his friends used to do back when they were in college where they’d order family sized meat pizza opting to ‘pay-at-pickup’ but eventually never show up. He said they’d order it on the phone and wait until closing to pop inside the store and ask if there were any leftover pizzas on the rack for sale, thus, getting their originally ordered pizza at the discounted price. He added that they always made sure to call from a pay-phone on campus so they wouldn’t get tracked which allowed them to do it countless times and all through their college years.

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biofunmy · 5 years

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What Did You See on Your Run?

Welcome to the Running newsletter! Every Saturday morning, we email runners with news, advice and some motivation to help you get up and running. Sign up here to get it in your inbox.

Twenty-five days and 5,9217.7 miles later, my cross-country road trip is now complete, and I’m back to writing to you from my dining room table in New Jersey. Driving to and from California with my dog, I logged a lot of hours behind the wheel but made plenty of photo-worthy stops: I rode a shuttle to the top of St. Louis’ Gateway Arch, ate BBQ in Kansas City, walked on the Badwater Basin in Death Valley and hugged Donald Duck.

I also ran in a few spots along the way, and when I saw something out of the ordinary, I posted a picture of it to my Instagram and Twitter accounts using the #seenomyrun hashtag.

I haven’t been able to pinpoint when the hashtag became a thing, but I’ve been using it for at least four years. It’s a way to show off cool things I see when I run at home, but also to share what I see as a running tourist. Examples from this trip: a creepy looking Bob’s Big Boy in Lancaster, Ohio; a shuttlecock on the lawn of the Nelson-Atkinson Museum of Art in Kansas City; a dinosaur using a bone as a cane at a mini golf course in Topeka, Kan.; and the most beautiful dog park I’ve ever seen in Durango, Colo. (yes, that’s my dog in the picture).

Running on vacation can be tough work, especially if you’re driving five to 12 hours a day, as I did. But I tried to fit in some exercise every other day, and to see if I could find something that might be mundane to the folks who live there, but special to me.

I don’t have any hard and fast rules about taking photos on a run, except to make sure that I’m in a safe spot to stop (i.e., don’t stop in the middle of the road, and don’t obstruct other runners who may be out that day). If I like it, I stop, take a picture and move on. I also won’t stop if I’m doing any kind of speedwork because that defeats the point of the speedwork, but I didn’t do any of that on my trip.

What have you #seenonyourrun? Let me know — I’m on Twitter @byjenamiller.

My runs on the road weren’t serious — more like “lollygagging,” as my kindergarten teacher Sister Damien would call it. That changes now that I’m back and training for the New York City Marathon begins. Anyone else just starting? Let me know.

More Health and Fitness News From The Times

She’s 103 and Just Ran the 100-Meter Dash. Her Life Advice? ‘Look for Moments of Magic’

I Went for a Run. Then My Heart Stopped.

Getting a Good Night’s Sleep Without Drugs

Bug Control Gear That Actually Works

World Cup Players Say Muscles and Makeup Mix Just Fine, Thanks

Sahred From Source link Health

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banalpal · 5 years

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2018 Review

This is going to be pretty long, but I wanted to just go through my year month by month in a really candid way.

January

I started out my year trying to re-invent myself. I had a quaint little apartment, and I wanted to start blogging (here) and vlogging (youtube). I wanted to be organized and on-trend. Early in the month, my band worked really hard on producing our single in preparation for its release on Valentine’s Day.

I ended a toxic relationship with a guy I really loved, and that was hard to do right off the bat in 2018, but I was determined to get better. I started spending a lot of time with my roommates and other friends. I wrote this reflection in my journal in January:

“I’m so glad I spent time with Kendyl, Daria, Jacob and Kaleb. I’m very pleased with the amount of homework I’ve accomplished and that I have gone to my classes AND begun to exercise!”

This is one of my favorite photos taken in January. I was really down about losing a close friend, and I went to an ice cream/live band karaoke event at my college. A few friends and I started spontaneously dancing to Miley Cyrus’s “Party in the USA,” and I had a ton of fun.

Lucky me! In the span of a week, one of my close friends, Jacob, asked me to be his girlfriend, AND my best friend came to surprise visit from Kentucky.

This is my best friend, Connor!

February

February was truly a bit of a mad-dash of always trying to rehearse for my upcoming senior recital, while balancing my schoolwork, 5 jobs (really!), my friendships, and navigating my new relationship.

Somehow, I managed to pull through and make it to Daria (my roomate)’s birthday party, audition for commencement concert, introduce Jacob to my family, and I even took a trip down to St. Louis to visit my dear friends Luke and Alyssa, while also getting to see Jacob’s WGI competition. I was even on an intramural volleyball team!

March

March taught me much about failure. I had been practicing night and day for my recital. It was supposed to be shared with my friend Nathan, on March 26th. I failed my recital hearing a week prior, and had to reschedule for April. You may be thinking, “big deal,” but I had never honestly put in the work for something and just failed. There were times in my life where I hadn’t put forward my best effort and then not accomplished my goal, but this was the first time I had really worked for something and then failed anyway. It was extremely disappointing, but even in the midst of my hard work and failure, there was time for smiles. I spent quite a bit of time in Michigan meeting Jacob’s family for the first time, I learned how to shoot a gun, and I performed in 4 concerts despite my recital being postponed.

April

If you thought March was wild, well hold onto your hats! In April, I was out of town the 1st-2nd, 6th-9th, 16th-17th, 20th-23rd, and 29th-30th. In that time, I also had to perform my senior recital, direct my drama class showcase, and take all of my finals. Here’s an excerpt from my planner that month:

“This was hands-down the most stressful month of my life. I was traveling nonstop. I truly don’t think I could’ve done it any differently, but I certainly don’t wish to repeat it.”

My sister Phoebe turned 3!

The awesome group of students I got to travel with all those times!

Some friends and I at our volunteer showcase!

I got to go with my best friends to Senior Banquet.

I surprised Jacob in Ohio for his birthday; he had no idea and it was a great day. Totally worth it to be there for him.

I got to sing in chapel for the first time during our last week of school. It was such an amazing experience to do it with some of my best friends!

My wonderful friends from praise team and I after my senior recital! It was so fun to get all dressed up and show everyone what I’ve been studying for 3 years! I wore the same dress to sing in commencement concert.

May

Ahh. May. Such an incredible release from the tension that had built up over the late winter/early spring. I opted out of my choir trip which was sad, but I needed to spend the money on some summer courses. I only traveled a little with the praise team. I was honored with the privilege of singing a solo at our Baccalaureate service. I got to spend so much time with family, too!

My birthday!

Some awesome friends at our senior class event! We released paper lanterns.

Just before the Baccalaureate service. I had allergic conjunctivitis but my friends and family were so helpful with the eyedrops!

My close friends from home celebrating my birthday!

June

June was bittersweet. A wonderful month with wonderful weather, but my dear Great Aunt Ann passed away. It was hard on my family, especially my grandmother. Ann was so positive until her last breath, and an inspiration for me to live my life to the fullest.

I ran my first race ever, a 5k, in honor of my friend Cheyenne who passed away from osteosarcoma.

I went to Cedar Point for the first time! It was rainy, but we had so much fun!

We had a great Father’s Day weekend.

Jacob surprised me with tickets to my first ever baseball game! We had seats right above the dugout for the opposing team. There were peanuts everywhere, but I lived!

Gus and I had a great time at Prairiefest!

Not pictured: applied for and accepted a position as music teacher at Parkview Christian (more on that later)!

July

More summer shenanagins!

I took my final trip with Praise!

Independence Day was spent with close friends!

My great uncle retired and we got to sing “Yesterday” by the Beatles together.

We had some family visit from Florida and we got to go to the Field Museum in Chicago. It was my first time (that I can remember).

The lovely Jen Heim did our family portraits and they turned out absolutely beautiful!

Here’s me doing... yep, you guessed it! goat yoga.

August

August is where the rubber really met the road for me. I had to grow up so quickly. It was like life just smacked me in the face, and I had to decide what kind of person I was going to be moving forward. So, I decided to be the best version of me I could possibly be. I didn’t get there, and I’m still not there, but I’m sure as heck trying.

I started my first full-time job as a music teacher. I way underestimated how difficult it would be. I’m so thankful for the job and for the opportunity, but I won’t lie, it’s been a scary and difficult transition. I feel I was very underprepared for the job and very overwhelmed by it, but I made it through the month alive, with a lot of things learned.

I got to see my first DCI competition with some friends from Olivet!

Through the hardship, I was so thankful to be leading worship 5 times a week at that point. I needed the constant lyrical reminders of God’s faithfulness in all situations.

I got a haircut to make myself feel good. It worked.

I got to sing at my lovely friend Alyssa’s wedding!

My car was totaled in an accident that wasn’t my fault. Just another thing in the dumpster fire that was my life!

I got one relaxing trip to SBR with my highschool students. It was so needed!

September

When life gives you lemons, sometimes making lemonade takes too long and you need to just eat them plain.

I lost a lot in September. My identity was no longer as a worship leader, a college student, a singer/performer, a girlfriend, and probably half a dozen other things I’ve forgotten about. I had to start finding another identity: one marked by my traits alone, and not my circumstances.

I lost a lot of weight. It was time to take control of my situation and my health! I didn’t want to wait for the new year to have a new me.

I paid cash for a new (to me) car! It sucked that I had this expense out of nowhere, but it felt great to be able to afford it.

My favorite thing about myself in hardships is how inspiring it is. Whenever life gets me down, God gives me a song to sing. It reminds me of one of my favorite Psalms:

“I waited patiently for the Lord; He inclined to me and heard my cry. He lifted me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry clay; He set my feet upon a rock, and made my footsteps firm. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear and put their trust in the Lord.”

I’m so glad for all the creativity He gave me that month.

My best friend had a murder themed birthday party, of course! I was Courtney Love because... duh. She totally killed Kurt Cobain.

My brother, the soccer star.

Spending time with old friends at the Sandwich Fair!

Unfortunately, it was time for me to give up my position at First Baptist of Kankakee. I loved my church so much, and I still adore the people there, but I knew it was time for me to move on and meet other Christians in my area. I still hold them so dearly in my heart!

It felt so good to start gigging again, too! I played with my band, Vinyl Fox, twice, and with another combo with some friends from college.

October

I got to go back down to Olivet for Homecoming weekend!

My friend Ricky and I went to a banquet (for my friend from THE CHURCH I JOINED)!

My family at Halloween!

Pumpkin patch with the kiddos!

Luckily, my job became easier with time. I also started grad school!

Gus, being a star.

November

A total blast. I spent so much time improving myself and becoming the person I want to be! It feels GREAT!

I got to spend so much time climbing at First Ascent. My climbing partner and I started actually leading routes this month and we progressed so much! I conquered a lot of fear in that area. I also met my friend Celeste! (The girl in the picture with me).

Alex Molica did a makeup demonstration on me, and I was thriving.

My family had the opportunity to spend Thanksgiving in DISNEY WORLD!! So cool!!

I spent so much time in the city! I kind of fell in love with the train rides home at night. I visited friends (and Sophie, my sister), participated in my first beginner comp (The Humblodt Rumble), did the Sendsgiving challenge (and WON a prize!), and even got to bring my cousin climbing with me!

December

DECEMBER. How could the year have come to a close so quickly? Well, I’m certainly not where I thought I’d end up. My vision for my life and for my future has gone through incredibly major shifts over and over again this year. But then I finally realized, I don’t know what the future holds, and I can’t know. So I need to just stop trying to know. It’s time to let go. I had been holding onto some things so tightly in my life this year - things that were really precious to me - and by doing so, I choked them out. This month I feel I’ve finally settled more into my adult life. It’s truly surreal to have just released songs (that will get its own blog post later), for real this time. I got to see one of my favorite bands, WALKTHEMOON. I celebrated a close friend’s wedding! I even directed all of the Christmas programs at school (while incredibly sick) and they went well!

WALKTHEMOON!

Gus’ first Ninja Warrior competition!

Yes, I changed my hair again. What can I say? I get a rush from surprising people.

MY NEW MUSIC!!! (Thanks to Elijah Svoboda and Scott Miller! The best producers and musicians in the WORLD!)

Oh yeah, and I’m dog sitting for the holiday.

To wrap it all up and stick it under a tree,

New year: better me.

I can’t wait to keep learning and growing and changing in 2019. I’m so ready for whatever God brings my way!

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daniellesmithtv · 5 years

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Enjoy Illinois: Exploring Chicago and the Magnificent Mile

Friends. I love to travel. That is not a surprise. But sometimes you don’t have o go FAR away from home to have the very best experiences. Let’s talk about my recent trip to Chicago (just an hour flight or five hour drive from my home in St. Louis). I was a guest of Enjoy Illinois and the Magnificent Mile and the trip was truly so much fun. We packed in experiences, sight-seeing, FOOD and all things Chicago.

I’m so excited to share every little piece of my time there with you – from sightseeing to shopping, from fine dining to the most exquisite hotel stay.

Let’s start with the Claridge House Hotel….as much as I loved the atmosphere, I must start with the service. Every employee I encountered from the moment I arrived was truly exquisite. You must check out the ‘Chicago’ tab on my Instagram stories – not only for so much of my entire experience, but for a tour of my room – IT HAD A FIREPLACE.

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Grab your shades & your hat — and go explore this weekend! #OurHouseYoureHome #ChooseChicago . . . . . . . . . . . #boutiqueshopping #boutiquehotel #claridgehouse #chicago #saturdayvibes #mychipix #hotelroom #hotelroom

A post shared by Claridge House (@claridge_house) on Oct 13, 2018 at 2:41pm PDT

The decor was beautifully modern and so clean. I could have stayed in that comfortable bed all day long. Located in the most darling Gold Coast neighborhood, they offer a variety of amenities including a spa, room service, an evening bar and restaurant for dining.

After checking in to the hotel and taking a quick few minutes to freshen up, we headed out for the evening. Our first stop – 360 Chicago. The views of Chicago from the top of the John Hancock building are, in a word, breathtaking.

From the north to the south, from the east to the west….each floor to ceiling view leaves you with your mouth agape. For the daring (and we were!), we took a ride on TILT. From more than 1000 feet up, you tilt over the Magnificent Mile, for a view like no other.

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“I can see my house from here!” – Everyone . Share your photos with #360chicago to be featured . . . #chicago #chitecture #mychicagopix #insta_chicago #artofchi #illgrammers #exploreillinois #abovechicago #passionpassport #chicagogram #chigram #wonderlust #flippinchi #chicagogrammers #instagood #cityscape #chi_shooters #wu_chicago #artofvisuals #way2ill #likechicago #theculturetrip #travelawesome #chicagohome #viewfromthetop #tlpicks #onlinechicago

A post shared by 360 CHICAGO Observation Deck (@360chicago) on Nov 30, 2018 at 4:34pm PST

We weren’t allowed to take photos or video while on the ride (you know I WANTED to!)….and I *may* have screamed a little, but it was a very cool experience.

And who can experience Chicago without the quintessential deep dish pizza? Certainly not me. Lou Malnati’s Pizza spoiled us like crazy. Appetizers, salad and the most divine, mouth-watering pizza.

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Mmm… pizza (Photo cred: @hoekster416)

A post shared by Lou Malnati’s Pizzeria (@loumalnatis) on Dec 2, 2018 at 6:30pm PST

Founded in 1971, they were instrumental in creating the recipe for this Chicago favorite. Don’t think I didn’t eat until I was positively stuffed….I DID. And I slept like a baby will a full belly.

Our next day started as it should – with one of the city’s most iconic attractions – the Chicago Architecture Foundation River Cruise aboard Chicago’s First Lady.

In a span of an hour and a half, our docent (incredibly well versed tour guide) introduced us to more than 50 of the city’s most interesting buildings and he shared how Chicago grew from a small settlement into one of the country’s largest cities over the last 100 years….

They do close in the Winter months, but will resume in 2019.

Prepare to be jealous of this next experience…and I do mean experience: Eataly Chicago is more than a restaurant.

It is more than a market.

It is more than a little slice of Italy.

It is all of this and more.

We shopped. We explored. We drooled over produce, meats, cheeses and wines. We sampled – yes we did. And then enjoyed the most lovely lunch.

This location is one of five (soon to be six) in the United States – though there are a dozen in Italy and eight in other parts of the world including Seoul and Moscow.

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It’s the week before our birthday so what better way to celebrate than with a GIVEAWAY?! 🎉 Leave a comment with your favorite Eataly dish and tag a friend to win a dinner for SIX in any of our second floor restaurants! #myEatalyChicago – – – EAT & DRINK & WIN: To enter, follow these easy steps 1️⃣ like this post 2️⃣ follow @eatalychicago and 3️⃣ tag a friend in the comments who you’d invite to dinner! – – OFFICIAL RULES: Giveaway entries will accepted from 11/25/2018 to 12/1/2018 to followers in the US only, ending at 11 p.m. CST on 12/1/2018. Winner will be announced on 12/2/2018 and will have 24 hours to respond via a direct message on Instagram. This is in no way sponsored, administered, or endorsed by Instagram or any of the brands pictured. By entering, entrants confirm that they are 18+ years of age, release Instagram and all brands and participants of all responsibility, and agree to Instagram’s terms of use. VOID where prohibited by law. No purchase necessary. Dinner prize redeemable at Eataly Chicago (43 East Ohio Street, Chicago, IL 60611) only.

A post shared by Eataly Chicago (@eatalychicago) on Nov 26, 2018 at 3:07pm PST

I simply cannot wait to go back.

Our lunch was followed by the most amazing shopping experience at the Shops at Northbridge.

Each and every store seems to pride themselves on making sure each customer has the opportunity to fully embrace the brand. Rather than simply shop, they want you to take your time, sample, enjoy.

From Alex & Ani to B8TA (such a cool concept), from Nordstrom to Kiehl’s – you could wander for hours.

One of my absolute favorites is the newly opened WinkyLux.

As a makeup brand that started with an online presence that has morphed in to an in-store adventure, they pride themselves on allowing you to fully experience the brand.

As you travel ‘behind the scenes’ from room to room, you have photo opportunities AND a chance to sample different varieties of makeup. And there is no charge.

Be sure to check them out.

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Rosé all (Holi)day 🥂 Say “cheers” to your weekend crew with this rose gold bag filled with rosé-inspired goodies.

A post shared by 🐩 Winky Lux 🐩 (@winky_lux) on Nov 7, 2018 at 12:57pm PST

Our shopping was followed by more history of Chicago at the Driehuas Museum. Located just steps from the Magnificent Mile (we walked from the Shops at Northbridge), the museum focuses on explores the art, architecture, and design of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

While much of the home has been restored, so much of the original architecture and design is intact. I was struck by the contrast between tile and marble, between wood and stained glass. It is both beautiful and fascinating.

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HOLIDAY HOURS – The Museum will be closed on Thanksgiving but open during regular hours tomorrow and the rest of the week. We hope you join us to discover the Gilded Age at the Driehaus.

A post shared by Driehaus Museum (@driehausmuseum) on Nov 20, 2018 at 1:24pm PST

I have never visited Chicago and NOT stopped by one of my favorite stores on the Magnificent Mile – Coach. As a flagship store, this one always has the latest and most beautiful styles from the brand.

But it also has something that many Coach stores do not – a design studio. Not only can you bring your Coach products to them for complimentary cleaning, but you can customize your own bags.

IT. IS. MAGIC.

I was beyond grateful when they gifted us this experience. We were able to work our way through the entire design process – in this case, choosing the flowers for my bag and the symbols for the iconic Coach tag.

If you know me, you know won’t be surprised by my choices.

Also – I bought boots. Don’t judge me. I am obsessed with them.

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Inspired by an archival piece. Designed for the modern muse. In glossy metallics or Signature canvas, new-season Trail bags. #LightsCameraHoliday #CoachNY

A post shared by Coach (@coach) on Nov 20, 2018 at 2:36pm PST

Let them eat steak! Ohhhh is that supposed to be cake…. well, our final night in the city included an extraordinary meal at STK-Chicago.

It would be impossible for me to tell you what I loved the most – the salad? The mac and cheese? The mashed potatoes? The Tater Tots??? The STEAK? The COTTON CANDY DESSERT?

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The mystery of [The Cloud] is what’s inside. Find out next time you dine. • • • • #STKSeptember #STKChicago #STKNYC #STKDenver #STKMiami #STKOrlando #STKToronto #STKAtlanta #STKSanDiego #STKLondon #STKMidtown #STKDowntown #eats #dessertclub #dinnerdate #cottoncandy #cheatdayeats #eatfamous #thetravelingfork #hungrybetches

A post shared by STK (@eatstk) on Sep 20, 2018 at 8:26am PDT

With each course, they paired the perfect wine. The service was impeccable. If you are going to be in Chicago soon? GET. THERE. P.S. If you are celebrating your birthday? They is singing and sparklers. It is impossible NOT to have fun.

Speaking of fun, our final stop for the evening – wait for it – The Redhead Piano Bar.

This redhead was super excited.

The space and the pianist did not disappoint. Now….if only I could sing.

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Still searching for the perfect holiday party? Look no further, book your private party now! For more information, contact Sophia: rushanddivisionparties.com #Redhead #holidays #party

A post shared by Redhead Piano Bar (@redheadpianobar) on Nov 14, 2018 at 1:02pm PST

After this full day, you can imagine we needed to get some sleep. Remember I said I loved the bed at the Claridge House. Yep, perfection.

Lunch on our last day was a place I had never visited: Ramen-San in the Fulton Market. Specializing in being your favorite neighborhood noodle joint…I’m not sure what I loved the most – the food, or the constant rotation of 90’s hip-hop.

There is something to be said about pairing a great atmosphere with fantastic food.

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First snowfall means 🍜

A post shared by Ramen-san (@ramensanchi) on Nov 15, 2018 at 10:03am PST

Well….I have certainly given you some options. Do tell, what do you want to check out first? I know, I know – it isn’t an easy choice. But, if you have a trip to Chicago in your plans any time soon, I so hope these suggestions help you to get the most out of the city.

Disclosure: A million thanks to my hosts – Enjoy Illinois and the Magnificent Mile – for a stellar itinerary and making sure I loved every moment of my time in Chicago. As always, all thoughts and opinions are mine and mine alone.

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