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trivialbob · 3 months

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I am back home from vacation in Isla Mujeres. Sheila is staying a few more days. We know other visitors on the island. Sheila is hanging out with them this week.

The Island is a 25 minute ferry ride from Cancun. It is about tourism, but not at all like being inside an all-inclusive resort. Many folks we ran into visit Isla for several weeks at a time and stay in small condos or rooms.

(A bit long, with pictures, below the cut)

We rented a two-bedroom place in a small, four-unit building. It was at the north end of the island. That's where many of the American and Canadian visitors stay. But locals live there too. From our roof we could see the family next door, cooking and putting out their laundry to dry. Our door is the blue one in the bottom left picture.

Some US hotels I've been at lately don't offer daily changes of sheets and towels. "For the sake of the environment," ya know. Our modest place in Isla included fresh sheets and towels every day in addition to full room cleaning. It felt luxurious.

More local people live mid-island and to the south end. However, visitors rent places all over the narrow island. A couple we know has the equivalent of a studio apartment mid-island for two months at $600/month. A realtor would call it "Very cozy." I liked it.

That couple has bicycles they store there for when they come back each winter. They also rent a golf cart from time to time to drive around the island, as many visitors do. Some Americans and Canadians purchase places instead of renting. Some beautiful, modern houses dot the island.

One of the first things I did upon arrival was slather myself in SPF 50 sunscreen. My pasty white head and back made the soft, white beach sand look like black pepper in comparison. The sunscreen worked well. I have only one small patch of burned skin where I missed covering a spot on one ankle.

You won't find chain restaurants here. The few banks and gas stations have familiar names, but that's about it for big brands.

Warning signs are few and far between. Servers bring cold beer to the beach, in glass bottles. This was my fourth or fifth visit and Sheila's 12th. We've never seen or heard someone break a bottle. There are no lifeguards at beaches or pools.

When crossing roads, cars, golf carts, and scooters seem to have the right-of-way over pedestrians. Sidewalks are rough and uneven. You learn to be careful and pay attention. At times soldiers and police patrolled the streets with rifles. We felt secure the whole time, even while walking in dimly lit local neighborhoods.

One resort-like place where we hung out at for a few hours has a pool with concrete seats and tables in the water. A server, seeing me cooling off in the water, asked if I'd deliver a glass ashtray to four women sitting at table in the pool.

Smoking isn't allowed inside bars and restaurants, thank God. Unlike the US where that's just understood, there are some No Fumar signs posted in Isla businesses. I bet I didn't see more than a dozen people smoking the whole time I was there.

Touristy stuff is there if you want that. Two streets have vendors hawking t-shirts, magnets, and such. Scuba and fishing trips are available if that's your thing. Golf carts and scooters can be rented. Mainly I eat good food, drink relatively inexpensive drinks and cheap beer, read, and relax. Surprisingly though, I recorded 10,000 or more steps every day.

Many of the older buildings would make an American code inspector twitch with anxiety. Few stairs, even very steep ones, have railings. Nor do all the rooftops. Our place had a railing on top but the buildings next to us did not. A realtor might call those "Unencumbered terraces." I easily could have done one of those cop TV show stunts, jumping from building to building while chasing a perp down the block.

Try tracing these wires. Or finding the source of the water lines. A realtor might say "Plentiful utilities." We did have excellent water pressure, hot and cold. Just don't drink it.

Bathrooms in some bars and restaurants... oh my. An Applebee's is more sanitary, but then you are eating at Applebee's. About ten years ago one of Sheila's friends purchased a toilet seat with her own money and installed it herself in one of the island's bars she liked to frequent. She had developed some nice leg muscles from so much hovering. Life's trade-offs, right?

One bar's women's room has a lot of comments in Sharpie about Mark. Some female out there somewhere DOES NOT LIKE MARK. Apparently a frequent visitor to the island, she documents when bad thoughts of Mark cross her mind. The men's room offered some scribbles both for and against Mark. At our table a group of us sat around trying to come up with the story. It could have a chance at being a Netflix/Hulu movie.

We didn't cook. There are too many local places that are fun and tasty. In some parts of the island you can actually order a meal at someone's house and eat on their patio. I'll have a separate post later about how we hired local guy bring us to seven different places for food one night.

Several times we shared restaurant tables with other visitors, some we knew from previous visits, some total strangers. A couple from New Jersey wanted to sit on the patio at a restaurant Sheila and I like. All three outside tables were occupied. We had empty chairs at ours, so we invited them to join us and had a wonderful evening talking with them. The wife did sound a bit like Carmela Soprano. Her husband, however, did not make me remove my cap. Another restaurant had a cat you could pet during dinner at another place.

In addition to the restaurant cat there were sidewalk dogs. They putter around or relax on the warm pavement. People walk and drive around the dogs. I assure you that white dog in the right picture is just sleeping contentedly. I didn't use a flash, so I wouldn't disturb him. The little one on the left greeted me as I walked along the malecón on my way to a massage.

We played pickle ball while there. The courts were in the middle of an area with few tourists. All the players were Americans. I wonder what the local residents think of the game with the bright, plastic balls that go clink, clink, clink. That's me in the yellow hat (top left picture). The bottom two pictures are what was behind the courts.

I could get used to scooter life. Sheila has one at home, but it's engine is literally six times the size of what these ones here have.

Carnival celebrations began on Friday. Our place overlooked the town square, by the Catholic Church. It was fun to watch the celebration with the loud music and lots of people.

That got long! Enough for now.

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thehollowchronicles · 2 months

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Hello New Readers!

Sunday, August 27th, 1995

Our lovely little town's newspaper has added a new member to the paper's staff, and we're all glad to have Nicole on board! We're sure that Nicole's writing and expert reporting about our town, its history, and things going on within it will attract dozens of new readers to our home, so we've had her write a small introduction to our town for everyone!

Hemlock Hollow is a small town of roughly 4,000 people, located about 30 miles east of Mount Rainier in Washington state. Our home was founded in 1911 by Frederick Wolfe, a wealthy railroad baron who saw an opportunity in the timber industry, and he funded a small fork off of the main tracks to be made here for easy access to shipping logs as well as transportation for the workers. As the logging industry in the area began drying up during and after the '50s housing boom, the town turned to apple farming and tourism based around its time as part of the rail network. Today, our tourism board is working with developers, state transportation officials, and others to regain the rail network and build a hotel in an effort to revitalize the town. Exciting news!

Some notable locations are Hemlock High, the public school in town, and home to the Hemlock Hawks. The other is St. Bernadette's Hallowed Academy, a religious private school. For the urban explorers and historians, there is also an old sawmill outside of town where logs were processed, as well as the old mansion of the first mayor's house on the river. One of my favorite places in town is our adorable little museum dedicated to the town's history (especially its early days as part of the rail network and logging industry)! For our residents in need of extra care, we also have an assisted living facility that is home to about 70 patients, and I've been told the staff is very kind. They host weekly Bridge Nights from 7-9 on Saturdays, and admission is free for all to join! We also have many shops and buildings like Irma's Needlework, The Divine Diner, Grant Foods, and the public library. Of course, there are also the apple orchards on the south side of town, owned and well-maintained by the Wolfe family for the last 3 generations.

That's about it for now, so we hope our readers enjoyed this little insight into our town. We're sure Nicole will do a great job with more about this cozy place we call home!

#world building #chronicles of darkness #first post

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gilliesmemes · 1 year

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𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐌𝐄𝐊𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎 ! / sentence starters pulled callmekevins playthrough of mile 0 , prequel to road 96. change whatever you want to suit your character interactions .

oh my god , what has he taken ?

now, lets hop in a strangers car.

your dog die or something ?

i might play video games instead. that’s how i escape my problems.

aha ! i found an escape.

i’m not really one for tourism in a country run by a dictator.

i feel a little on edge here.

i’m taking that threat at face value.

i need some chaos, everything has been too organized.

now we’re talking, explosives ! let’s get in there.

oh god, he’s very upset.

does he have that type of power, though ?

then the manger came out and said i was the best escapist they’ve ever seen.

yeah, tony hawk move there.

we’re killing a lot of people, this is great.

oh my god , you don’t know anything about personal space.

i will kill you immediately , that’s what friends are for - murdering each other.

i want it to seem like someone died in here.

that looks kind of crappy, to be honest.

what the hell is yours supposed to mean ?

yeah, they’re both equally good.

i don’t even know who said that, a ghost perhaps ?

i’m just so obnoxious.

can i just throw them in the trash ?

i don’t really wanna do this job , i just wanna get the credit for doing it.

forty seven people injured in town square, read all about it in tomorrows paper.

oh, i didn’t see you there.

ah ! oh , sorry... the corner scared me.

can you just give me a second ? i’m trying to rob you.

my kd ratio is insane.

i have been destroying the place with no reasoning just because i can get away with it.

maybe the government are lying.

we’ve been truman show’d !

if you didn’t believe the government didn’t engage in propaganda here, you’d be pretty fucking stupid.

i do ! i just agreed with everything you said !

annoying poster guy in the park is my favourite hobby. also , he’s dead.

i forgot to update you , i killed him earlier.

that is the lamest dare i’ve ever heard.

i dare you to jump off the building.

pretty ironic to say i found it in the dumpster.

i jump in trash and then he quits , like yeah i’m done with that one.

push him. push him off the seat so he falls into the mud.

you’ve probably never even seen your father.

look at his little stupid face about to go down in the mud !

yeah , sucks to be you kiddo.

he looks like a guy who a kid could just sneak by into our house.

oh my god , how did you run so fast ?

that is the creepiest thing you could’ve said.

i need the worlds gnarliest rumba that’ll just shred everything on the floor.

i kinda like this dude, he’s just so naive.

i’m just causing so much chaos all the time no matter where i am.

i feel a little bad.

he almost had another kill on his belt !

jesus , what a neighbourhood.

he’s a lunatic.

now what , are you going to try and eat me ?

i like the dramatized version.

tell me this secret of yours or i’ll push you off the building.

oh, look ! it’s the square where i murdered everyone , good times.

stop trying to force me to talk about things i don’t want to talk about.

i’m going to snap my own neck.

i don’t think it’s about whether the government did it or not.

i just always assume the government are up to shenanigans to be honest.

that’s not how i thought he would sound for some reason.

that’s his memory of it ... then he’s also like and i was doing some sick kick flips and jumping over ramps while the explosions were going off.

was that not enough ?!

WHAAA - oh wait , i already knew that.

oh no, i’m going to get pulled into this aren’t i ?

no it sounds complicated for you. i don’t want to get involved in this.

yeah , she seems like a big fan.

she’s still waving , she’s still there.

he sounds pretty pissed off.

can i just walk away ?

i don’t think he’d make an announcement about that.

okay that was unnecessary , that was just demeaning.

this is getting weirder and weirder.

this is getting a little bit stressful now.

i'm playing to win , i am not a good loser. actually no , i'm a very good loser - i'm not a graceful loser is what im saying... i'm a sore loser.

stop distracting me , i'm winning.

did you make a whole scale model of his house ?

seems reasonable , yeah lets risk our lives for this.

the cops are closing in , you're in now so we got to get this done tonight.

mom will help , don't worry.

i just think cops are so cool , those guys are really cool.

please let me go now.

anyway, time to go straight to ( name's ) house and break in.

i managed to ditch my parents, i'm ready for the revolution.

i play the triangle, i never said i was a singer.

your eyes aren't as wonky as your posters would suggest.

my mixtape ! how could i forget my mixtape.

do i actually want to help him ? i don’t want to.

these past twelve hours have been good to you.

why is he holding onto the receipt ... are they going to business expense it ?

the problem is ... i know the file wont be there when i get up there.

i’ve seen enough loony toons back in the city to know that’s a fake.

god the standards are pretty low here.

is this my entry test ?

y’know , personal revenge and all that.

i want to take the gun and just shoot him.

is this how he sees it ? well , no wonder he's pissed off.

we’re all new comers to this behaviour.

that was a bit stupid, wasn’t it ?

yeah , it is kinda lame actually.

what ? you abandoned me !

#callmekevin #starters #sentence starters #rp starters #prompts #rp prompts #mine

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ormspryde · 4 months

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Goods and services in Terca Lumireis

Some more worldbuilding for Tales of Vesperia. This is kind of a reminder to myself as well as an attempt to get the world to feel a bit more alive when I write about it, but if anyone else finds it helpful feel free.

(ps, if you don't recognize a town's name I probably made it up)

Halure: Blossom wine, tourism, luluria petals, carrier pigeons, flowers and bouquets

Zaphias, upper quarter: scholars, books, mages for hire, fine wines, trained hawks, classically trained chefs

Zaphias, citizens' quarter: Potions and gels, weapons to supply the knights, pastries

Zaphias, lower quarter: pelts and skins, leather, produce and herbs from the plains outside Zaphias

Aspio - texts and tomes, spellbooks, refined blastia gems, trained mages, gemologists, cut precious gems

Capua Nor - seafood, gaming dice, small weapons, ship repair, transportation, ship building

Flaxted - unprocessed flax, flaxseed and oil, dyestuffs, flax yarn, linen

Heliord - timber and forest produce

Capua Torim - seafood, seaweed, ship repair, small boats, transportation, caravan resupply

Dahngrest - damn near anything can be found or gotten here

Nordopolica - tourism because of the arena, seafood, trained sushi chefs

Mantaic - sand for glass, foraged produce from the Weasand of Cados, cactus wine

Farryheid (ruined) - ship building, transportation, seafood and seaweed, beach tourism, freshwater fish

Szarvas - forest produce, books, fine timber and boards, furniture, fine furs

Ennepetal - trained wardogs, fabric and yarn, mountain produce, bows

Versmold - rough gems and minerals

Myshkin - mountain produce, furs

Cliffcrest - rough gems and minerals, refined gems, metal ore, refined metal ingots

Deidon Hold - resupply for caravans

Vratěnín - leather and leatherwork

Valmeira - trained quiettas

Temza (ruined) - mountain herbs, spellbooks, rough gems, glass

Aurnion - rough minerals, fossils, pelts from plains beasts, jerky

Yumanju - tourism, fine soaps and bath oils

Myorzo - gaming cards, flowers

#tales of vesperia #worldbuilding #goods and services

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maple-seed · 2 years

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Thrown - Chapter 2: A Ride and a Wager

Summary: Thor and Loki visit the local market and hitch a ride home, much to Loki's chagrin.

Word Count: 1,985

Author's Notes: This week's chapter is a little shorter. Loki is a stick in the mud and will continue to be for a bit.

Master List

Thor had managed to talk him into another foray into the human town. Apparently there was some sort of market every weekend, Brynjar had encouraged Thor to come take a look. He felt some of the Asgardian crafters could use the opportunity to sell their wares, once they had their feet under them. Loki wasn't entirely sure how or why he had been roped into coming along, but here he was, walking down the road leaving New Asgard. Thor was going on about trade between the Æsir and the humans and how much it could do for both. Loki was barely listening, he was focused on the cottage at the bend in the road. He was relieved to find you weren't outside and he wouldn't be pulled into another frivolous conversation. As they passed he noticed the goat grazing out in the field again. He briefly wondered why you kept animals on a farm that produces ceramic.

The market was just outside the north end of town. An open field had been covered in a maze of wooden booths. Vendors were hawking everything from produce to leather goods. A few stalls were offering cooked food, the scent drifted in the air. There were too many sellers here to all be from this town, Loki guessed that several must come from nearby to take advantage of the tourism here. He noticed many of the customers moving between the booths appeared to be from out of town as well, some likely even from out of the country.

Thor stopped here and there to speak to a vendor or admire their goods. Loki found that if he ignored the intermittent sour glances he could very nearly enjoy himself. There had been markets very similar to this on Asgard. Bustling trade, street food, a fine distraction. He could almost imagine that he was back home. Almost.

"Hello, boys!"

Of course. Of course you were here. Thor turned and practically shouted your name in excitement. You were smiling wide from behind a wooden market stall. Your booth was the same width as most of the others, the countertop extended backwards at both ends to form a sort of U-shape. The surface was filled with an assortment of plates, bowls, cups, baking dishes, and vases in a range of colors. There was an awning overhead to shield you and your wares from the weather. A couple potential customers were shuffling along the perimeter. A pair of brown eyes and pointy black ears appeared at the edge of the tabletop, brought to attention by the commotion. Loki was obligated to follow Thor as he closed the distance between you.

"Good afternoon, my lady. How is your day?" You nodded. "Pretty decent, so far. Made some sales, haven't dropped anything. And you two? Enjoying the market?" "Oh, very much so." Thor picked up one of your plates to examine it, a bright red glaze mottled with a more subdued crimson. Loki again saw the bird silhouette stamped on the bottom. He noticed now that many of your mugs on display had the same image decorating their walls. A bird of bare clay slightly raised above the surface. Glaze flowed down around it, enhancing the impression of a bird in flight.

Thor looked over the plate at you. "Do you do well here, at the market?" "Oh sure. Folks only need so many dishes but there's enough new people coming through each week to keep food on the table." Loki grew slightly nervous at the mention of food on your table. They were metaphorical inches away from another invitation to eat. Thor returned the plate to your countertop. "We have many fine artisans with us in New Asgard. I hope that they may find a place here." You nodded encouragingly. "I think they'd make a killing. People love anything handcrafted. Add in that it's crafted by a god? Clean sweep. They'd sell out, I'm sure." You paused, tilted your head down and lowered your voice. "You don't have anyone that makes pottery, do you?" Thor laughed. "I'm sure you have nothing to fear, your work is excellent." "I don't know, I'm not so certain I could compete." You gave a wry smile before turning to to assist a customer.

There was a squeal, Thor and Loki turned to see a pair of young women approaching excitedly. They were asking Thor to take a photo with them, he obliged and made small talk. Loki rolled his eyes. It was no wonder that Thor didn't understand his reluctance to go out among the humans. Everywhere Thor went he was met only with praise and admiration.

Loki looked back to you. You didn't seem to take notice of the scene happening in front of your booth. You were chatting with the customer while packing away a vase, seemingly oblivious. Loki wondered again how you were not aware of the brothers' notoriety. Surely by now someone would have at least mentioned it in passing. How long would it be until it was made known to you? He tried to imagine the scowl you'd wear for him after you heard of his misdeeds. It was difficult to picture on your ever-friendly face.

Thor's fans departed as you were finishing up your transaction. You and Thor exchanged a quick goodbye and you offered Loki a wave before another customer needed your attention. The brothers moved along and Loki thanked the Norns that the visit had been so blessedly short.

It was late afternoon when they found themselves back on the road home. They were just outside of town when their conversation was interrupted by a voice calling their names. Loki winced, he already recognized it. Approaching from an adjoining road to the north was a wagon, pulled by the large draft horse he had seen grazing in your field. You were waving from the bench seat, the black dog sitting beside you. Thor waved back while Loki revoked the thanks he had previously given to the Norns. You pulled up alongside the brothers and came to a stop. "Would you boys like a ride?"

"Oh, a ride would be most appreciated." Thor answered for the both of them.

You turned to the dog and pointed a thumb behind you. "Ash, hop in the back." He obediently jumped into the bed of the wagon, taking a seat among the crates. You scooted to the end of the bench to make room for the brothers. Thor stepped up and took a seat beside you.

Loki remained where he stood. "I think I prefer to walk."

"Nonsense!" Thor boomed. Before Loki could protest he found his feet leaving the ground, Thor had grabbed hold of his shoulders and lifted him into the seat. If looks could kill even godhood wouldn't have saved Thor from the glare Loki shot him. Hiding a smile behind your hand, you were kind enough not to laugh out loud.

You cleared your throat and gestured at the horse in front of you. "Allow me to introduce you to our driver, Breidr." You gave a click and the wagon began moving forward again. "Thank you, Breidr." Thor gave a gracious nod to the horse. "Most Midgardians I would expect to use an automobile." You nodded. "Yeah, a car or truck would probably be cheaper in the long run, but I inherited Breidr and he does the job well enough."

You and Thor continued in pleasant conversation which Loki didn't care to invest attention in. He peered over his shoulder into the back of the wagon and found the dog was watching him. Loki felt its gaze was abnormally focused for an animal. If he was anything less than a god it might have unnerved him. Luckily, he was a god and therefore was not intimidated by a dog and broke eye contact for entirely unrelated reasons. He turned his attention to the crates instead. There was one left open, he could see one of your mugs nestled among the packing material, a bird silhouette emblazoned on the side.

He decided it was worth sating his curiosity and raised his voice above the current conversation, "Why the birds?" You leaned back in order to see him past Thor. "Huh?" "On your pottery. The bird images." "Oh!" You smiled. "That's Gerdy's doing. She used to call me Terna." You laughed slightly and shook your head. "She said it was because I flew to her from so far away, but I always suspected she just liked it. The nickname stuck. In fact, it's the name most people here know me by. Now it's like my calling card." You gave a shrug and added. "Plus people like birds so the mugs sell pretty well." Loki returned to silence, his interest satisfied. You looked curiously at Thor who said something about manners again and resumed the previous conversation.

The trip was short, in no time at all the wagon was trundling along the low stone wall. "Ash, get the gate." At your word, the dog leapt out of the wagon and bounded ahead to the wooden gate. He lifted the latch and tugged the gate open by a rope that appeared to be tied there for that purpose. His enthusiasm implied this was the most fun any creature could hope to have. Thor raised his eyebrows. "Your dog is very well trained. Very impressive." You nodded. "I can't really take credit for it. Ash is really smart. Practically trained himself."

The wagon came to a stop in front of the open gate. You turned to the brothers. "Well, boys, I'm afraid this is the end of the line." Loki was already stepping down from the wagon. Thor shook your hand and thanked you for the ride before following suit. The horse began pulling the wagon through the open gate and you called to the gods as they started down the road. "Take care!" Thor waved in response. "You as well!"

The brothers continued down the road in silence for a few minutes. Loki was waiting for a reprimand. When it didn't come he decided to air his grievances instead. "Don't ever pick me up like that again." Thor gave a deep laugh. "It was for your own good. You would have looked so foolish walking alone behind us." Loki rolled his eyes. "You could have declined her invitation and we could have walked together." Thor shook his head. "She is pleasant company, which is more than I can say for some." He have Loki a pointed look. Loki scowled. "All I ask is that you do not drag me, literally, into your Midgardian company." Thor chuckled. "I cannot make any promises." "I will not be so accommodating next time." "Oh? And what will you do? Stab me? Right in front of the poor woman?" Loki shrugged. "Perhaps. What do I care if she witnesses your consequences?" Thor scoffed. "You expect me to believe that? You are affected by the opinions of the humans in town but you wouldn't mind if she saw you callously stab your own brother?" "I am not affected by the opinions of the mortals." "Oh? I must have imagined you telling me you were going to avoid them until your crimes faded from living memory."

Loki glowered in silence for a moment. "They're dull. And short-lived. It's akin to making friends with an ant." Thor gave a single laugh. "You underestimate them, brother." "Hm. Regardless, we'll see how friendly she is once she's aware of my history here on Midgard." "You may be surprised. She could continue to be perfectly pleasant." "Hah! You have too much faith in these ants." "Perhaps you have too little." "No. I would wager my finest dagger. Her kindness doesn't extend beyond her naïveté." Thor smirked. "Your finest dagger? I will take that wager."

Loki was not concerned. He knew the hearts of humans.

< Previous Chapter | Master List | Next Chapter >

#loki #loki fanfic #loki x reader #mcu loki #slow burn #loki & thor #no y/n #thrown fanfic #loki thrown

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princess-of-the-corner · 10 months

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Public Identities:

Hawk Moth: "I am Hawk Moth! I don't actually have an evil plan for today, I just thought it would be funny if you shuffled the locations of all of Paris' iconic landmarks at the height of tourism season, but left the rest of the city's lay-out AND the maps of the city completely unchanged. Look me in the eye and tell me it wouldn't be funny! Or don't, because you're actually clear on the other side of the city from where I am and I don't feel like leaving my air-conditioned supervillain lair. So what do you say?"

Cartogriefer*: "Eh, I've got nothing better to do!"

*"Cartogriefer" is the Akuma name, not their actual name.

BEAUTIFUL

#public knowledge au

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hawkpartys · 29 days

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herons would love middle aged man fishing culture i think

do you understand my vision

#inaturalist #naturalist #nature #ecology #zoology #biology #birds #bird #birdblr #birding #orinthology #hawk tourism

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ashtrayfloors · 1 year

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There is so much, so much to say. So much, these days. And I’m sleep-deprived so this entry will be a haphazard list rather than a well-thought-out piece of prose, but I need to get some of this down because there’s just going to keep being more and more and more.

—The last day of March I dressed up in a very queer-punk getup to attend the Queer Youth Assemble rally in Kenosha. I put my harness on along with my other undergarments, and over that I wore tall black boots and a loose, long black dress and my leather jacket that has studs and appliqué roses on it (the one I always describe as cowpunk-meets-Kathy Acker). I did elaborate eye makeup and darkened my wispy lil’ mustache with mascara, and went to the rally. And a bunch of my cishet ally friends were there, and a bunch of my queer and trans friends were there, including my crush Shelley. (Shelley is a pseudonym and yes, I did christen them that in an homage to both Mary and Percy Byshe, because they are goth and a poet.) All of us were in our Most Gender finery, complimenting each other, and Shelley looked super hot in their leopard coat and cat’s-eye glasses. After the rally ended due to rain, Shelley and a few other folks and I went out for beers and nachos and I can’t tell you how good it felt to be Out and Queer. In fact, our waiter (gender neutral) said they had wanted to be at the rally but couldn’t make it due to work and they thanked us for going and said we all looked ‘hot as fuck.’

—It got warmer as the day went on, rained more, then the fog rolled in, then thunderstorms, then back to just rain, and it was warm enough I was able to leave the window open overnight for the first time this year, and I could hear the rain and the trains.

—April first it got cold again, and the wind returned, and it was not my lover, this was brutal bitter asshole wind. I ran some errands, including meeting up with K. to pick up the Joe Strummer piece I commissioned him to do for Ali’s birthday. And then I had a bit of the sads, because the kids were cranky and I was PMSing. And because I was thinking about M., how it’s now been 18 years since he died, and how it still hurts that I can never tell him how much he meant to me. But I wrote some poems and took some selfies and then I drank a little too much wine and listened to W/IFS, like I do when I’m in my feelings.

—And the two days after that were kind of crappy, I was still sad and cranky from PMS, and stressed about the upcoming election. But I did some voter outreach stuff and wrote more poems and did some painting and ate dark chocolate and drank tea.

—Then election day, and despite the storms (including hail!) Wisconsin turned the fuck out, and the election turned out the way I had hoped, and I am so relieved that my state overwhelmingly voted against the right-wing extremist judge and that my town voted against the MAGA freak mayoral candidate. And P. and I had amazing sex that night.

—And the next couple days were mostly about packing for a trip to Door County, and more poems, and more sex. And there was more rain, more storms, but also warmth, and bits of sun and butterflies, and the greening grass.

—Two days before Easter, we headed north. Everything was muddy and brown and we saw e a lot of birds—hawks and herons and wild turkeys. There were road snacks and road silliness. We saw a truck that said Lubenow on it, and we figured out later it had to be someone’s last name (like Luben-ow), but it was like “got it, looks like Lube Now.” And at the rest area we usually stop at there’s this big Wisconsin tourism sign that’s supposed to look like a license plate, and it says LUV R AG (as in Love Our Agriculture), but again, because of the kerning and design, it looks like Luv Rag. So P. and I were making jokes about how Luv Rag sounds like the name of a band of sleazy middle-aged dudes trying to cling to their ‘80s hair metal days, and I said: “Thank you! We are Luv Rag, and this is our new single, ‘Lube Now!’”

—We were up there for five nights, 4.5 days. It was less stressful than staying with my parents usually is, and except for the first half of our first full day there, the weather was great. I ate a ton of good food and stayed up late writing most nights; found out about a sonnet contest I’m going to enter. P. and I got to go out, just the two of us, several times. We went out for drinks a few times; got to sit out by the fire pit at Door County Brewing Co. and listen to a great folk musician who goes by the name of Hunter Gatherer. (I already liked him cuz when we first arrived, he was playing a cover of Bob Dylan’s “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right,” and then a bit later he was introducing one of his originals and said: “This song’s about running from the cops.” And I liked him even more.) Other times we just drove around the peninsula, or went hiking in Peninsula State Park and exploring our favorite tiny old cemetery. Our last full day there, we took the kids swimming (in a pool, not the lake—it’s still way too cold for that!), and I hadn’t been swimming in years and I had forgotten how much I love it, how at home I feel in the water, like that’s where I belong, like that’s where my body works the way it should.

—We arrived home to the daffodils and violets in bloom and everything even greener, buds on the trees, more warm weather, and there were days of childlike joys and nights of adult pleasures. Days of playing hopscotch with C. and reading endless books, of iced coffee and shooting hoops and watching the backyard birds and squirrels. One evening, we even got to grill for the first time this year, and make s’mores for dessert. Nights of drinking a bit, and hot sex, and staying up late writing.

—Then it got cold again, and it rained, then snowed. Yesterday I felt really bad for the first half of the day. Partly cuz of the weather; gray and cold and gloomy and it was hard being cooped up inside again after that week of warmth and sunshine. Partly cuz I was sleep-deprived (the kids have been waking up hella early lately.) Partly cuz fucking everything was making me cry. I dunno, I was having weird-bad gender feels, and also feeling uninspired/unmotivated writing-wise, like ‘oh, I made it through the first half of NaPoWriMo, but I think I’m tapped out now.’ And maybe a bit of that ol’ pre-Mercury Rx shadow period creeping in there, bringing up old issues and feelings—I was missing my good old bad old scumbag days. The days of freight hoppin’ and basement shows and circus freakery, and dumpster diving and busking and long bike rides across cities, of wheat paste and graffiti and stick n’ pokes and sleeping out, under the stars, giving myself over to scary thoughts, & omens, & excess. The days when most everyone I knew had a clown act and a copy of the Crew Change Guide. I made a cup of tea and lay in bed watching Netflix for a while. First I watched the “Beyond the Binary” episode of Getting Curious with Jonathan Van Ness, and then I watched Mae Martin’s new comedy special, Sap. And of course both of those have to do with gender stuff (at least in part), and both of them talked about growing up queer/GNC and having such a hard time and turning to drug abuse and other self-destructive behaviors, even though they were white, middle-class kids who were not kicked out by their parents. And I was like, oh hey, me too. And both shows made me cry, and it was good cathartic crying, but I still felt like shit afterwards. So then I started thinking about some ways to bring back some of the less-destructive aspects of my scumbag days back into my life, and I was still feeling sad, and then I decided to check in on the contest results of the WB Yeats Poetry Prize and the Allen Ginsberg Poetry Prize.

Both of them said they’d announce the contest winners on their websites sometime in or after March. The Yeats Prize said it would also contact the winners directly; the Ginsberg Prize said no such thing, but I assumed they would. Starting in mid-March, I was checking both sites every few days or so, and obsessively checking my email/snail mail. And nothing, nothing, nothing. The last time I’d checked the sites was April 3, and yesterday I was like: “Well, it’s been two weeks, there must be some news by now,” and I was assuming I would go on and see the list of winners and my name would not be there and maybe it was a bad idea because I was already feeling so crappy, but then I was also kinda like, well, I might as well get all the bad feelings out of the way at once. But still, on both websites, the most recent winner’s list was from 2022. And then, I shit you not, like eight minutes later, P. brought the mail in and handed me an envelope. Return address: The Poetry Center At Passaic County Community College, One College Blvd., Paterson, NJ. Location of the Allen Ginsberg Poetry Prize. My hands shook as I opened it. And…I fucking won! Not first, second, or third place, but I don’t even care because one of the poems I sent them (the one that is probably, in my opinion, among the best poems I’ve ever written, but also one of the riskiest) received an Editor’s Choice Award! And it’s gonna be published in the Spring 2024 issue of the Paterson Literary Review, and I’ve been invited to participate in the awards ceremony/reading there, next February.

I don’t even know how to express how much this means to me. Professionally, but also personally. Like, first of all, New Jersey is such a huge part of my personal mythology. I was conceived in New Jersey! So many of the people who have meant the most to me, personally/artistically, have New Jersey roots! Like Allen Ginsberg! And Jack Terricloth! And Bruce Springsteen! And my witchwife, Penny! And also just, well, I mean god, Allen Ginsberg. For better or worse, the Beat Generation and punk rock have been the most enduring influences on me/my writing, starting at a very young age, and Allen Ginsberg is definitely towards the very top of that “beat + punk influence list.” I just. Can’t. Fucking. Get Over It. Can’t quite believe it! I keep touching the letter they sent me to remind myself it’s real. (It’s on the Poetry Center’s official stationery, which is on beautiful, thick, creamy paper.) I keep blowing kisses at my framed photo of Ginsberg, one where he’s sitting at his typewriter, writing a poem.

—So yesterday evening, P. and I dropped the kids off at my folks’ house for a bit. We went to pick up takeout dinner for everyone, but also got to have a celebratory whiskey while we waited. And I stayed up late last night. First, I wrote a poem—guess I wasn’t totally tapped out, after all. Then I was just awake scheming and planning (and wishing and hoping). About immediate future stuff, like this year’s vegetable garden, and going through my books to find some to donate to the library’s book sale. As well as the positive scumbaggery I can reincorporate into my life—I remembered that I bought myself that stick n’ poke kit last year, so soon I’m gonna give myself a new tattoo; and I started thinking up ideas for a poetry wheatpaste project. And then—travel. I still wanna travel a bit this year, but I think I’m gonna keep it mostly midwest. Then, next year, I’m gonna head out east again finally, after all these years, for the awards ceremony, but I’m gonna try to book a mini-tour around it, and there will be old friends and new friends and old haunts and…yeah. I am so fucking ready.

—And today I’m sleep deprived, again—I was up late, and the kiddos once again got up stupid early. But I don’t even mind. I got some writing done and listened to some podcasts and oh, tomorrow I get to go see Bikini Kill. I’ve been waiting for this concert for over three years (from when I first bought the tickets in December 2019, before it got postponed many many times due to CoViD), but I’ve also been waiting for this concert since I was twelve—from when I first heard Bikini Kill, and wanted to go see them, but then they broke up before I got the chance. (And yeah, I saw Le Tigre a couple times, and that was fun, but not the same.) And there’s a lot of stuff going on right now that teen me and early-to-mid twenties me would be super stoked about—like the Allen Ginsberg Poetry Prize, like seeing Bikini Kill, like stick n’ pokes and wheatpaste and travel plans. And that feels kinda great; showing my younger self that I am still rocking that shit at my advanced (haha) age. And just overall, things are so good lately. There is so much joy, even in the mundane. Even the bad shit doesn’t seem as bad as it did for a while, because in these past four months I have proven to myself that my life isn’t over, that I can still do rad shit, that I can still experience beauty and joy.

#ashtrayfloors #dear livejournal #also once again i don't feel like obsessively tagging this so:#i guess general cw #for food and sex and alcohol mentions #plus brief mentions of weird gender feels and drug abuse #and pms #plus some bragging #but this is generally a really positive entry

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nijigasakilove · 5 months

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Classic girlfriend meets boyfriend parents episode lol. I love how Sei studied Al’s parents to compare who he looks more like. As you’d expect from someone as straight laced as Al, he and father are really formal with each other! You can tell his dad really just wanted to give him a hug.

He’s obviously very proud of how Al has worked his way up. We only saw a little of her, but I love the mom already as well. Hopefully after this expedition is done, we’ll get more of them.

Of course Sei’s ears perked up when she heard the word onsen lol 😂. Would love a chill tourism episode in the hawke domain when this gets wrapped up.

Grand magus looks like he’s having fun casting spells on the undead . Seemed kinda happy to be going after the massive pig. I don’t think this’ll be the last miasma swamp though.

Should be an action packed episode next week, looking forward to it.

#seijyonoanime #the saint’s magic power is omnipotent season 2 #saint’s magic power is omnipotent #the saint’s magic power is omnipotent #saint’s magic anime #the saint’s magic anime #sei and albert

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tcdamoving · 11 months

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3 + 8 for hawk and handsaw?

hi neptune!

3. any reoccurring themes/elements?

the sea, ghosts, horses and folklore regarding them, transmission&radio towers, angels, "prophetic visions"/cassandra truths, sibling relationships (typically i wouldn't add this but... there's one reoccurring thing that happens to a lot of the main character's siblings. Lol), "you always go back to where you come from," house is not a home/haunted houses but apply it to entire plots of land

8. what inspired your world building, if anything?

three-four major things:

theres a town we always pass through whenever my parents want to go to the beach and its crowded and covered in houses sprawling over several hills, and smells like fish all the time since its on the sea. and and a town we stay in that benefits mainly from fishing/the tourism industry there. i started thinking up hawk and handsaw while driving through them around a year ago. + The scottish highlands

second an obsession i had with folklore when i was a kid. i dragged up several old books i had on "cryptids of the usa" as a kid for this, plus my own heritage and the things i learned about it growing up (primarily scottish, as my mom would talk to me about it the most)

third slenderverse. Fucked up film majors

and four this one short story i read AGES ago that i cannot remember for the life of me but it was about a family dying to a kelpie and i was so obsessed with the writing but i cannot find it for the life of it. Maybe the website was deleted idk (said so dejectedly)

(LATER EDIT: also the game oxenfree, and crystal cove from scooby doo: mystery incorporated! had huge influences)

oc world ask game!

#emails #hawk and handsaw

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wickedsrest-rp · 1 year

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NAME: Mephisto’s Repository

LOCATION: Nightfall Grove

This wasn’t the first store in Wicked’s Rest to attempt hawking supposedly magical artifacts, and it surely won’t be the last. That said, there is something special about this place, but it isn’t immediately obvious to anyone who’s not already in the know. What the untrained eye sees is a dimly lit shop filled to the brim with curious oddities, all boasting some sort of curse—malevolent and silly sit side by side on the haphazardly packed shelves and tables. The items are meant for collecting, not using, so the descriptions are quite honest and blunt. Purchase at your own risk, keep dry and out of reach of children, et cetera. The décor ranges from macabre to downright obscene, which explains the sign posted in the window that says ‘Minors not permitted’.

A small, rotating cast of strange individuals are the ones that run the actual shop. There’s Ichabod, Henrietta, and Orville, each with their own brand of weirdness that helps them fit right in with the establishment’s peculiar vibes. The owner, Chuck Jones, spends most of his time in the back with the special clientele, but he can be seen wandering the storefront now and then, rearranging the displays and changing the prices of things.

If you purchase something from the Repository, there is a strict no-refunds policy. If you try to return it anyway, you might walk out of the shop a little more hexed than you were when you walked in. It’s in your best interest to just keep whatever you bought and deal with it.

The actual purpose of this store is a bit more clandestine, but it’s enough to ask to see Chuck or to be taken to the back—there’s not a secret password or anything, that would be ridiculous. After being asked a series of questions to get a bead on your needs and whether or not he can help you, Chuck will hash out the details with you then and there. You’re then asked to come back in about a week to give him time to draw up the contract, which you will be required to sign. It’s all very above-board.

There’s a badalisc named Gabagool in the back room that loves to spend its time chatting up the people that come for magic deals, pining for the hot goss of the week. It’s harmless (if a little annoying), but Chuck seems pretty attached. He might even be using it to dig up information on potential clients, but who could prove that?

At checkout, there are discount coupons for the shop’s sister establishment, Folklore Tourism. One per customer, and only available with a purchase over $30. That symbol on the backside of the coupon? Oh, that’s nothing—just adds to the ‘mystery’ of both businesses.

#retired location

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