#eddie's migraine wear inspired by my migraine wear

[oatmilk-vampire]

Steve Harrington needed hearing aids.

He wasn't born needing them. In fact, he was just about as healthy as a young man in his social class could be. But numerous head injuries eventually led to gradually worsening hearing loss, leading him to needing mostly useless hearing aids.

His damage was so severe he actually needed cochlear implants but his parents kicked him out of their house and off of their insurance plan when he got caught kissing his teammate back in high school. With his minimum wage job and splitting rent with his roommate Robin, he currently did not make enough money for such a luxury.

So he did the next best thing: he learned ASL.

It was free, other than his time invested, and Robin was the one to suggest it. After all, she was already fluent in five languages and had been in band for twelve years. If anyone could teach herself and a hard of hearing person to sign, it was Robin Buckley.

The only bad part was, they were the only two who seemed to know the damn language, leaving Steve to strain to hear or read lips lest he get (mostly) silently yelled at by some deranged customer.

So when he spotted a guy around his age with long, dark curly hair and perfectly round black glasses with side shields, he knew he had to act.

He knew what it was like to have people gloss over the fact that you exist, or even berate you for it; so he took a page out of Robin's book.

He learned braille.

Sure, technically Steve could still speak to the boy, but wouldn't it be more special if he could read what Steve wanted to say?

So he practiced and practiced until he was happy, bringing the card to work where his crush appeared to be a regular.

As Steve sees him walk in, he knows today's the day.

⠓⠊ ⠊ ⠁⠍ ⠎⠞⠑⠧⠑ ⠎⠕⠗⠗⠽ ⠊⠋ ⠞⠓⠊⠎ ⠊⠎ ⠺⠑⠊⠗⠙ ⠃⠥⠞ ⠊ ⠚⠥⠎⠞ ⠺⠁⠝⠞⠑⠙ ⠞⠕ ⠎⠁⠽ ⠽⠕⠥ ⠁⠗⠑ ⠗⠑⠁⠇⠇⠽ ⠉⠥⠞⠑ ⠁⠝⠙ ⠊ ⠺⠕⠥⠇⠙ ⠇⠊⠅⠑ ⠞⠕ ⠁⠎⠅ ⠽⠕⠥ ⠕⠥⠞ ⠕⠝ ⠁ ⠙⠁⠞⠑

Hi I am Steve sorry if this is weird but I just wanted to say you are really cute and I would like to ask you out on a date

Steve is giddy when he wanders over to the boy in dark clothes. He had on black jeans that are ripped at the knees, a Metallica band tee, a leather jacket, and a denim battle vest. He's perfect. He's hot.

Steve's footsteps must be louder than he expects because the object of his affection immediately turns in his direction.

"Hi," Steve greets as he presses the thick stock paper into his hands.

The boy angles his head down with a frown as he traces an index finger over the raised dots, before looking right at Steve behind those dark frames.

He takes them off, and Steve learns after so long that his eyes are brown.

"I'm sorry," his crush says, Steve recognizing those syllables easy enough, "But I can't read this. What is it you're trying to say?"

But now that response is too much, Steve can't keep up. All he knows is the card he worked so carefully punching little holes in with a special tool he had to buy was now being pushed back into his hands.

Steve doesn't try to answer, he just wants to get the hell away before his tears spill over, but a hand on his shoulder stops him in his tracks.

He tenses, squeezes his eyes shut and braces for impact, but when a familiar hit doesn't land on his face, he cautiously opens his teary eyes to find him staring right at Steve.

"Are you okay?" He asks, but Steve can't be quite sure if he's checking on him or asking if he's gay.

Steve's own frown appears on his face as he points to his ears.

"Can't hear too good."

His mouth drops open, rushing to spiel something Steve doesn't catch. He must realize this because he's taking Steve's card back from him now as he mimics writing something with raised eyebrows.

Steve nods his head, more confused that the guy he thought was blind seemed to be understanding him perfectly.

He fishes out the little pad of paper and pen he keeps with him for moments not quite like this, passing the two items over.

He scribbles for a moment before letting Steve read what he's written in big loopy letters.

Hi, I'm Eddie. Sorry, I can't read braille. What did you say?

Steve furrows his brows.

I thought you might know it. Aren't you blind?

Eddie shakes his head with a little smile.

The glasses? I have killer migraines. Never go anywhere without them.

Steve smacks himself in the face. He's been such a fool!

Eddie taps him to gain his attention once more before handing him the notepad and pen.

What did you say? I'd like to know :)

Steve worries his bottom lip.

Hi I'm Steve. Sorry if this is weird but I just wanted to say you're really cute and I would like to ask you out on a date

He's nervous as he hands it back, but Eddie's wide grin and eager nod does wonders to knock back those worries.

I thought you'd never ask, Steve.

[seths-rogens]

for the writing prompts i GOTTA ask for #34 "why are you so cold" eeeeeeeee i'm twirling my hair already. pairing of your choice <3 and if 34 isn't inspiring, please go for which ever one you hoped someone would request!

okay this is longer than the last two prompts and Wayyyy spicier than anything I've ever posted (even if it is still fairly tame i think) but here u go bestie! hope u liiiike <3

word count: 2.9k | rating: E

cw: blood drinking

——————

34. Why are you so cold?

“What’re you cooking?”

Steve startles in his place by the stove, whipping round and slamming back up against the oven. Boiling water sloshes over the rim of the pan, soaking into the back of his t-shirt. 

He barely feels it, too focused on the figure standing in the doorway to the hall. They’re drenched in shadow, features unrecognisable. He’d had the lights low to offset the migraine that was ever so slowly wearing off, but also because it felt wrong to turn the lights on at two in the morning. 

He regrets that now.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?” Steve chokes out, wishing more than anything that he had his nail bat within reach. He glances off to the side, judging the distance between himself and the knife block. If only he could—

“Now, now, Stevie. That’s no way to treat an old friend.” 

Steve inhales sharply, his eyes adjusting to the dark.

Long hair, lank and tangled. A once white shirt shredded and stained with blood so dark it seemed black. Torn jeans and muddied white Reeboks. Steve can't see past the tears in the clothes, but he knows it probably isn't pretty. 

A dead man takes a step forward out of the shadows.

“Eddie.”

“Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!” Eddie grins, baring his teeth. Even in the dark they gleam bright white.

“You’re dead.”

"I am?!" Eddie exclaims, starting to frantically pat himself down. Steve winces  - that's gotta hurt. He pats at his chest, rests a hand over his heart and breathes deep. "God, you had me worried for a sec there, Stevie boy."

"This isn't real." 

"Then what, pray tell, do you think it is?" 

"A-a dream. Or a nightmare. Or... or Vecna's back and I'm his next goddamn victim. Fucking figures right?" Steve rambles on, borderline hysterical. 

Eddie takes another couple steps closer. He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear and ducks his head as if he's blushing. "Aw, Stevie, you dream about me?"

"No. They're nightmares." He takes a shuddering breath, squeezing his eyes shut. "It's just you dying over and over. Bleeding out in my arms, fucking screaming at me to help you." He scoffs before mumbling under his breath. "God, what am I doing? Talking to a freaking mirage."

Steve turns around and leans against the counter. He stares into the boiling water. The pasta's probably overcooked by now. 

"You're not real." Steve mutters to himself in reassurance,

A hard line of pressure  bares down against  the expanse of his back. Steve's breath catches in his throat. "Are you sure, Sweetheart?"

Too solid, all too real, hands gently grasp his hips, before sliding round his waist. A gentle tug and he's pulled into a one-sided embrace. "Don't I feel real?"

Steve doesn't know whether to melt into the feeling or fight it off. 

It's been strange, the last few months. Since they fought Vecna and closed the Upside Down off. Everyone's been different.

Steve included. 

He tries hard to be the rock the group needs, but it weighs on him. He can take everyone else's pain, but who will take his? 

But now, wrapped in strong arms, Steve feels his resolve waning. It would be so easy to fall apart.

He pushes the thoughts back. Eddie is dead. This thing behind him is a trick. 

Steve spins, pressing his palms flat against Not-Eddie's chest and pushing. Quickly, he shifts to the side, leaning over to the switch on the wall and turning on the under cabinet lights. 

He jumps when he turns back round, Not-Eddie much too close for comfort. "Afraid of the dark, are we, pretty boy?"

In the light, Steve takes a closer look. The skin beneath the tears in Eddie's clothes is smooth and unmarred where it should be mangled. The tips of his fingers are near black, like he'd dipped them in ink, the nails sharp. Steve glances at Eddie's grin, notices the extra length of each of his canines, the way they're sharp like fngs. 

Finally, he meets Eddie's eyes. Sees the way they're tinged red. Gasps.

"Like what you see?" Not-Eddie smiles, those fangs of his pressing divots into his bottom lip.

Steve stares, only a little terrified. "You're not Eddie."

Eddie frowns.  "It's a little bit different, I know, but that's what happens when you're the last meal of a few hundred alternate dimension demon bats." 

"No... no, I--" Steve shakes his head. "You can't be him. You can't be." 

"And why's that?"

Steve feels a sting in his eyes. His heart starts to pound. "You were dead. Your heart stopped." He tries to back away further, the counter at his back halting his futile efforts. "We left you there... Oh god... Eddie, we--"

He slides down to the floor, tucking his knees tight to his chest as his breath comes in short pants. "I'm so fucking sorry. I left you there. I... I'm sorry."

With a grace unseen of the Eddie of before,he slinks down to a crouch and speaks with a harsh clarity unlike his previous joviality. "My heart stopped, Harrington. I bled out. That isn't on you."

"But I--"

"No. It's on Vecna. You killed him, yeah?"

Steve nods. "Yeah."

"Then you did all you could. Like, avenged me or whatever." 

Steve runs a hand down his face, surprised to find it coming away wet. "I'm still sorry."

"Steve... I--" Eddie reaches out, cupping Steve's cheek in the palm of his hand. Steve flinches at the sensation of skin touching skin. "What? What's wrong?"

"Why are you so cold?" 

Eddie's skin is cold. Icy like the time Tommy pressed his hand to the back of Steve's neck after taking an ice bath. Cold like the snow Robin shoved down the back of his coat last winter. Cold like the waters of Lovers Lake, and the frigid air of the Upside Down.

It's inhuman. 

Eddie sighs. "So uh, I don't think I'm human anymore." He grimaces awkwardly. "Surprise?"

"What do you mean you're not human?" Steve grits out through clenched teeth. 

Eddie falls backwards onto his butt, sitting criss-cross applesauce across the room. The pot is bubbling over on the stove. Steve ignores it. 

"Well. I should be dead, right? We've established that." He fiddles with a dirty strand of hair. "But all my bites are healed. And I can feel my teeth in my head. They ache and they're sharper than they were before. And..." He pauses, trailing off.

"Spit it out, Munson."

"And I can hear your heart beating. I can smell your blood."

Steve presses his fingers against the bridge of his nose. "So you're saying you're what exactly?"

"I think I'm a vampire."

"A vampire. Of course you are. Why wouldn't you be?"

"Look, I know we weren't that close, but I figured Henderson would freak out if I showed up at his house and the others' parents would ask too many questions."

"So I'm the last resort?"

"No, Steve. I came here because I trust you." He shrugs. "I thought we might've been friends if I'd made it out, y'know? I thought you might be willing to help."

Steve's shoulders slump as the weight of those words sets in. He nods. "What do you need?"

He smiles, canines glinting. "I'm fucking starving."

Steve laughs softly. "Well I've got enough overcooked macaroni if that works?"

Eddie smiles back. "Sounds good."

Steve pushes himself to his feet and offers Eddie a hand up, which he takes gratefully if the extravagant bow he offers means anything. He grabs two bowls and a couple forks, and dishes out the overdone monstrosity. 

With a sheepish grin, Steve passes Eddie a bowl and sits next to him at the breakfast bar. 

Steve digs in as Eddie takes his first mouthful. 

There's quiet for a moment, then, "Hmm?"

"What?" Steve asks through a mouthful. 

"I didn't consider this part."

"What part?" 

"I'm a vampire, Steve."

"So?" He pokes at the pasta with his fork.

"Vampires don't tend to eat human food. Humans are the food." 

Steve splutters, choking on a bite of pasta. He drops his fork, appetite gone. 

"You don't have any raw meat by any chance?"

Steve grimaces. "Haven't really been able to stomach it since," He gestures to his bat bites, still healing. "Y'know." Eddie nods sympathetically. "I'd offer to drive to the butchers but since it's," He checks his watch. "Three-twenty-seven AM, I think they'll be closed. Sorry man." 

Eddie slumps in his seat, running a hand through his mud streaked hair. "It's fine. I'm sure I'll last until tomorrow. Do you mind if I take a shower though?"

"Sure."

He leads Eddie up to his parent's bathroom. "Take as long as you like. I'll grab you a spare change of clothes."

Eddie nods with a smile and ducks into the bathroom. Steve waits until he hears the water running before rushing into his bedroom to pull out the comfiest clothes he owns. A soft pair of heather grey sweatpants and an old, worn in Hawkins Swim team t-shirt. 

He folds them up and leaves them on the bathroom counter, keeping his eyes downcast. 

He heads back downstairs, scrapes what's left of their food into the trash and starts to pace.

Eddie is alive and in his bathroom. *Eddie is alive and in his bathroom.* 

He should be freaking out, and sure, some part of him is, but another part of him is overcome with a sort of overjoyed awe. Maybe he came back a little different, but at least he isn't dead.

It's at that moment that a thought crosses Steve's mind. Eddie is alive again, and he needs to do anything he can to keep him that way.

Steve settles on his parents long untouched bed and waits, raring himself to make an offer he never thought he would.

When the water shuts off Steve swears he feels his heart stop for a moment. 

Eddie smiles when he opens the bathroom door, steam billowing out in a cloud after him. He's trying the ends of his hair with one of Steve's mom's 'hotel quality towels', wearing the borrowed pair of sweats and Steve’s old shirt. "That water pressure is insane, man. I don't think the trailer park has ever had anything like that."

"Ha. Yeah. So I was thinking--" Steve starts, holding himself tense.

Eddie laughs softly. "Don't hurt yourself."

"Funny." Steve rolls his eyes.  "What I was gonna say was, you could always, uh, feed on me. If you want. If it's not like weird or whatever."

Eddie watches him with a stunned expression. Eyes wide and jaw slack.

Steve keeps going. "Just because you said you were hungry, and if you haven't eaten since you got out of the Upside Down - which we will be talking about by the way - then you probably really need to eat, right?" 

"Right." Eddie nods, walking over to the opposite side of the bed to where Steve sits. "And you're just offering yourself up like a jock on a platter?" He shakes his head, sitting next to Steve, up against the headboard. "The kings are supposed to feast on the peasants, Stevie. Not the other way around."

"C'mon, man. You said you were starving."

"I could really hurt you, Steve. It's not worth that." 

Eddie ducks his head and Steve grabs his wrist, squeezing a little."You trust me, right? So I can trust you back. I trust that you'll know when to stop. I trust that you won't hurt me."

"It's not that simple."

"You don't know that. You won't know if you don't try." 

"You're reckless, you know that?" Steve just grins. Eddie hesitates. "Only if you're sure."

"I'm sure." Steve tilts his neck to the side. Edde starts to lean in, shuffling awkwardly to try and find a better angle. Steve takes pity.  "Here, maybe this is easier." He swings a leg over Eddie's thighs and drops into his lap. 

Eddie gasps as his weight settles. Their eyes meet and everything narrows. Nothing else matters, only  two men in an empty mansion in Loch Nora. 

Tentatively, Steve loops his wrists together behind Eddie's neck, the wet strands of his hair brushing his skin. "Is this better?"

Eddie nods, awestruck. “Yeah. That’s good.”

Steve nods. “Okay. Cool.”

A pause. They watch one another.

“You can bite me now.”

“Right.”

Eddie leans in, dragging his nose along the column of Steve’s neck, inhaling that sweet, tart smell. 

Steve tries to repress a shiver.

Eddie bares his fangs, prepares to bite. 

“Wait!” Steve stops him, ducking away from Eddie’s mouth.

“Yeah?”

“Is it gonna hurt?” “I don’t know.” 

“Right. Of course. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “Continue.”

He closes his eyes, bares his neck once more.

It’s like a prick, at first, when Eddie’s fangs pierce his skin. A little uncomfortable but not unbearable.

But then, all encompassing heat. Spreading down, down from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. 

Steve gasps, eyes flying open as he twitches in Eddie’s lap, clenching his hands into fists. The heat pools in Steve’s gut as he feels his sweatpants grow just that bit tighter. He rolls his hips without thinking, lets out a guttural moan as his eyes roll back into his head. Feels his toes curl in his socks.

Eddie pulls away. “Steve?”

“Don’t stop. Why did you stop?” His breath comes in short pants.

Eddie grimaced. “You seem a little, uh… compromised? I don’t wanna continue if you’re gonna hate me after. Don’t think I could live with myself.” 

Steve meets Eddie’s eyes, sees the dark, wide circles of his pupils. His own probably just as large. “I don’t want you to stop. I didn’t know it would feel like this.” 

“Does it feel… does it feel good?”

“So fucking good. I want you to keep going.”

“You’re sure?”

Steve rolls his eyes, tangling a hand in the hair at the back of Eddie’s head and dragging him into a kiss, wet and messy with blood and spit. Eddie gasps against Steve’s lips.

When they pull back, his eyes grow ever darker as they take in the blood smeared around Steve’s mouth. 

Steve leans into Eddie’s ear. Whispers. “Bite me again.”

With a moan, Eddie grips Steve at the roots of his hair, tugs his head to the side. Steve lets out an involuntary whimper. 

“Fuck…” Steve sighs, eyes falling closed as Eddie’s teeth pierce his skin for the second time. 

He feels his cock straining against its confines. He starts to roll his hips again, short, frantic jerks as he clenches and unclenches his hand in Eddie’s hair. “Eddie… fuck, Eddie, please.”

Eddie pulls off, licks over the punctures, presses his bloody lips to Steve’s adams apple. “What do you need, baby?”

Steve just whimpers, continues to grind in Eddie’s lap.

Eddie grasps Steve’s hips, stilling him. “Answer me, Sweetheart.”

Steve whines. “Fuck. Need you. Need more.”

“Good, that’s good, baby. You’re doing so well for me.” Eddie’s hands slide down to Steve’s ass, where he grabs both cheeks in a firm unrelenting grip. He squeezes, pulls, forces Steve to start a slow grind. “God, I wish I could rip you outta these, Stevie.” 

Steve freezes, shudders, sits back in Eddie’s hands to meet his eye. Swimming black meets swimming black. 

“Do it.”

“You’re serious?” 

Steve nods. “I have other sweatpants.” 

Eddie smirks. He digs his shoe nails into the fabric of Steve’s sweats, pulls until a loud ripping noise cuts through the quiet of the room. Eddie tears until he can pull the scraps away from Steve’s legs and drops them to the floor.

“Holy fuck.” Steve dives in for another kiss, grinding his barely covered cock against Eddie’s in his borrowed sweatpants as he shoves his tongue in Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie gropes his ass again, little fingers dipping down until they brush the now bare skin of Steve’s thighs below the hem of his briefs. He controls the rhythm and Steve can do nothing but let him.

“Can you come like this?” Eddie asks breathily. Steve just whines an affirmation. “Good. I want you to.” Eddie smirks, but the stuttering of his hips betrays how much he’s affected. 

They become desperate, pace frantic and uncoordinated. They’re not kissing anymore, just breathing into one another’s mouths. Steve clutches tight to the back of Eddie’s shirt as Eddie shifts one hand from Steve’s ass and presses it hard to the bulge in his pants. “Come for me, baby.”

The coil in Steve’s stomach unwinds and he tenses as he falls over the edge, muscles pulling tight like a bowstring. He moans unintelligibly, eyes clenching shut as the roll of his hips turns to involuntary little jerks. 

Everything fades to black.

When he comes to, he’s wrapped up in strong arms.

“Back with me?” Eddie asks kindly, a warm smile upon his - now clean - lips.

“How long was I out?” Steve sits up stiffly, stretching and rubbing his eyes.

“Just a little while. I got you some water.” 

Steve grabs the water bottle on the bedside table, chugging down half before recapping it. “So we should do that again sometime.”

Eddie laughs.  “You read my mind.” Steve turns to him, they share a smile.

Steve smirks. “Thought that was your job, Mr Vampire.”

[starlingsrps]

nicest kids in town.

adam is going to kill his friends. all of them. 

he sent very simple instructions to the group chat a week ago announcing the switch of the group costume from stranger things to the cast of the corny collins show (he had been struck with a bolt of inspiration after coming across hairspray on a hungover sunday). there had been ample time for people to switch their costumes but as people arrive at his apartment to meet for their bar crawl it becomes apparent that none of his friends can fucking read.

“okay but you changed you mind like five times before you even settled on stranger things,” grady points out, in full eddie munson gear. the wig is a nightmare but adam can’t fully say he isn’t kind of into the rest. “how the fuck were we supposed to know that you would change it again?”

adam gives him a dark look in the hall mirror as he combs his hair back again. just because they’re phoning it in doesn’t mean he will - he doesn’t know when he’ll wear a turquoise brocade suit jacket again but he’ll figure it out. “if any of you read my fucking texts-“

“you text us like thirty times a day,” maiya says from her post in the doorway. she’s dressed as nancy wheeler, another one of his friends with the worst fucking wig he’s ever seen. “i mostly tune you out unless it’s in caps or you send a moira rose gif.”

“fuck both of you, my texts are a delight.” the doorbell rings and he glares at it. “well let’s see if anyone else can read.”

there’s a sleep paralysis demon and a giant at the door. when the rage fades, he realizes that it’s lane wearing all black with christmas lights strung around him and the alphabet taped to his shirt and eve in a full body one piece unitard.

“goddamnit, you didn’t read my texts either?!”

lane shrugs and edges past him. “you didn’t put it in caps. beer me, mai!”

“and what the goddamn fuck are you?” he asks eve, barring her from entry. 

“the depiction of untreated mental illness,” she says, her voice muffled until she pulls off the hood. “it’s a statement.”

“we’re supposed to be the cast of the corny collins show.”

“i thought it was golden girls?”

“three weeks off, babe,” grady yells from the couch.

he needs liquor. 

after two shots of tequila, the rage moves to a simmer but spikes again as there’s a polite knock at the door. cecelia. only cecelia knocks like that and he knows cecelia has to read his texts. with hope in his heart, he sails to the door to open it and almost cries.

cecelia, wearing a vintage fifties dress that she probably purposefully bought for this and a perfect beehive, hands him a bottle of wine and kisses him on the cheek. “happy halloween! it was corny collins, right?”

he accepts the wine and wraps her in a bear hug. “it was!” he spies oliver behind her, wearing a sweater vest with his hair combed back and he guesses that’s close enough. “thank god you two can read. UNLIKE THE REST OF YOU.”

“fuck off cornelius!” 

“fuck off munson!” he yells back. “thank you, cee. get in here, we’re just waiting on gus and phoebe.”

“where’s-“

“trick or treating, migraine, has better things to do, handing out candy and will maybe meet us later,” he says, ticking off matthew, naomi, alexei, and irene’s current locations.

“phoebe says she and gus are outside,” the specter of untreated mental illness announces. “they’ll meet us downstairs.”

cell phones and go cups are gathered for the walk to the bars. grady slaps him on the ass and eve needs lane to guide her down the stairs with her hood up but they’ve had more eventful trips down his stairs - he’ll take it.

“are you fucking kidding me?!” he yells as they burst out of his front door. “do any of you read anything i ever send?”

phoebe, wearing some selkie creation with elbow length gloves and a little tiara, cocks her head. “weren’t we doing bridgerton?”

“i am going to rip all of you to fucking pieces.”

gus shrugs. “we found the vest and had to use it.” 

he’s grown out his sideburns for this.

jesus christ.

“i will choke you with that vest.”

“i think he looks handsome,” phoebe says, her arm around his waist. god he hates couples. straight couples mostly but dear god.

“fuck all of you,” adam says, marching down the street. “i’m going to go get drunk enough to forget what traitors you all are.”

[minkinsmusic]

Day 1 …. I have accepted a challenge (from Edward Benjamin Blau II Esquire) to post seven albums that I love – one album per day. He’s changed the rules a bit, though… so here is how this will go:

These will be records that had an effect on me, not necessarily because I love them, but because they represent something in my life. So yes, posting albums WITH EXPLANATION as a way to connect with my Facebook friends. Your comments would be nice as well. Each day I will ask a friend to take up the challenge. This is number one. Let’s unleash the love and memories …

U2 was coming to Cleveland’s old Municipal Stadium October 6th, 1987 touring behind the record shown below. A great album that pushed the band into the next hemisphere of popularity and importance. We had just moved to Akron in July and there was no way I could spend hours standing in line at the Chapel Hill Sears Ticketmaster location. When I arrived about 30 minutes before they went on sale the line was 50 yds long in the parking lot. Wearing a shirt & tie, I made a sign out of cardboard that I needed two tickets and hoped someone buying 2 (limit 4 or 6) would help me out. Somehow I got someone’s attention near the front of the line and I offered to buy one of their tickets if they bought me two. We ended up in the first row of upper box seats on a blistering cold night with winds howling off Lake Erie. What a show.

The Hitchcock twist to this tale was the night I came home from work prior to heading up to the concert. My wife Ellie had been to the doctor that day and we found out we were going to have a baby. October 6, 1987.

  Day 2 …

  Ah, the memories overwhelm me. There’s not a lot to do growing up in Canton, Ohio when you’re 16 with a driver’s license. What’s crazy is that the best thing happening was driving north on Cleveland Avenue to a little po-dunk one stoplight rural community (mid 70’s) called Uniontown. It was there we found salvation … classmates Sally & Red were part of the handful of friends making the journey to Boulder Junction. This old lumber built structure made dulcimer/wood instruments and would host musicians on the weekends. Performing on a tiny stage on a monthly rotation were the likes of Alex Bevan, Charlie Wiener, Jim Ballard, and the man with the booming voice John Bassette. With no liquor license (only natural fruit juices were sold) we had no problem attending. Closing your eyes and listening to their records can literally take you back to that heavenly space.

Ah, but the Hitchcock twist to the tale. As one of the major instigators of planning the Senior Cut Day Party, I took a flyer and wrote a letter to John Bassette pretty much describing the above and wondering if he would come perform. Never heard back from him. On the afternoon of this epic day, Steve Red Michel was playing guitar on the sound system we set up in the shelter. A large African American man shows up with a guitar. OMG he showed up. He played several songs then disappeared. Like an angel …. Thanks Alex B for inspiring me to tell this story. 💖 RIP John Richard Bassette 22/29/1941 to 11/9/2006. 💖

Day 3 …

It was only in January that I took an extended weekend roadtrip to Memphis. I’ve been to Music City several times for AmericanaFest, but had never driven the extra three hours to see the historical landmarks of Staxx, Sun, Graceland, and the Lorraine Motel. Breaking up the trip with overnights in Nashville each way equated to finding some good live music. Brandi Carlile was playing the historic Ryman Auditorium and had sold out all 6 nights! The secondary market prices for good tickets were pretty steep, but I kept my eye on the listings. Finally, I found 2 single tickets on the main floor aisle Row Q and S for $40/each.

After trucking down the highway, checking into our hotel, and having dinner. It was off to the Ryman. Brilliant singer/songwriter Natalie Hemby (part of The Highwomen) opened and I kept my eye on some empty seats in front of me. As soon as her set ended, I grabbed Ellie and waltzed her down to the 9th row where four spots were unattended. Needless to say, this is where we remained.

Brandi Carlile put on a show that was Springsteen-esque. Besides Hemby, The War & The Treaty and Sheryl Crow were guest performers. The Grammy Award artist and producer of several albums by other songwriters just blew the audience way leaving it all on stage. I bought this record when I came home.

The Hitchcock twist to the tale is that this would be the last big show I’ll see for the foreseeable future … January 16, 2020.

Nirvana (full-band instrumental) Hold Out Your Hand Raise Hell Lovesick Blues (Hank Williams) The Story The Eye A Case of You (Joni Mitchell) The Mother Do Right Woman, Do Right Man (Aretha Franklin) (with The War and Treaty) If She Ever Leaves Me (The Highwomen) Crowded Table Redesigning Women (The Highwomen) Redemption Day (with Sheryl Crow) Pride and Joy Encore: Mainstream Kid The Joke Cannonball Party of One

Day 4 ….

This album marks my very first assignment with Lost Highway Records on March 14, 2002. I mailed in a postcard from a Lyle Lovett CD asking fans to be part of the LH street team. After some time passed, I was contacted by the label to assist in the Cleveland market. Those that attended this show remember it was the “migraine” concert in which Adam’s performed without a spotlight on him. I worked dozens of shows (while still running the optical office), including assignments in Columbus, and was later promoted to “Captain” status. Artists included the likes of Adams, Lovett, Willie Nelson, Lucinda Williams, Elvis Costello, Kim Richey, Tift Merrit, The Jayhawks, Ryan Bingham, and John Eddie to the Mercury/UMG label promoting singer/songwriters eventually falling into a category now referred as Americana. When I started writing my music column, I penned a letter to label founder Luke Lewis thanking him for the opportunity to represent LH and moving on. Besides connecting with some of these artists, I met lots of great people along the way …

The Hitchcock twist to this story is a great book by Thomas O’Keefe titled “Waiting to Derail: Ryan Adams and Whiskeytown, Alt-Country’s Brilliant Wreck” that came out on June 26, 2018. Adam’s demise quickly followed with a postponement of released material. The other twist is I chose this album on 04/20/2020 …

Day 5 ….

Emmylou. That’s all I need to say. One of the most iconic voices in music. She’s on just about everybody’s records lending her gorgeous vocals besides a long and lustrous songbook of her own. Portions of her career with Gram Parsons and her very own Hot Band are Hall of Fame worthy.

I really wanted to see Emmylou in concert and she wasn’t coming to Cleveland anytime soon. I caught wind of a show in Pittsburgh by Calliope – The Pittsburgh Folk Music Society on May 19, 2000 at Carnegie Library Music Hall. Time for a roadtrip.

The space was like walking into a Shakespearean theater. Of course, I had decent seats on the floor of this intimate, old performance space with the small balcony extremely close to the stage. Emmylou was performing with the Spyboy band and ranks in my top twenty concerts. The album shown below is my favorite Emmylou record and gives me chills everytime I hear it.

The Hitchcock twist to this story is that the lead guitarist for Spyboy was the one and only Buddy Miller (wearing the baseball cap). I have become a fan and admirer of both Buddy and his wife Julie’s work; especially due to my wingman I called out with this post.

Day 6 ….

I initially began writing Minkins Music in January 2007 for Mimi’s Magazine, my longest supporter, before retiring the column in December 2019. A story on Griffin W House back in 2008 during the Flying Upside Down tour took me behind the music and the life of the Springfield, Ohio native now residing in Nashville. Not only was the story a shot in the arm for Griffin, but it elevated my game leading to additional avenues to expand my column.

A college degree from Miami of Ohio in 2002 in English Literature and Writing, his thoughts were to enroll in graduate school, but his poetry professor gave him the inspiration to channel his creativity toward being a songwriter rather than following in his footsteps. The passion and determination in House’s songs have since been filled with personal, richly detailed snapshots of his life and Flying Upside Down received my “Best Album of 2008” award. The record hit singles “One Thing”, “Live To Be Free”, “Waiting For The Rain to Come Down”, and “The Guy That Says Goodbye to You is Out of His Mind” first caught my ear from Mike Marrone, program director and DJ extraordinaire of the somewhat deceased “The Loft” channel on SXM.

The Hitchcock twist to this story is that a lot has happened since for House, as well as my own personal story, with the highs and lows along the roller coaster of living life that all of us encounter. But music, and especially writing stories, is the common thread that connects many of us … including those mentioned in this post 💖.

Day 7 …. today is the final official day and I included albums #8 & #9 to weave this story

I grew up in Fort Wayne, Indiana and my sister was a dozen years older than me. Along with children’s records from Disney, Tubby The Tubba, and The Chipmunks, there was a copy of Peter, Paul and Mary sitting out to play on the phonograph. Moving was released on January 15, 1963 and I had just turned four years old. I played songs like “Settle Down”, “Flora”, “Morning Train”, and “A’Soalin” over and over again …. not to mention big hits “This Land Is Your Land” and “Puff”. Along with invisible friend George, they kept me company.

On Feb. 9, 1964, The Beatles made their first live U.S. television appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show. More than 70 million Americans gathered around their televisions to watch four young men from Liverpool make history. I had just turned five years old, and we watched Ed Sullivan every Sunday night. The following year Help was released on August 6, 1965 along with a movie on August 25, 1965. Two of the first movies I remember seeing in the theater when I was six years old were Thunderball (Dad’s pick) and Help (Karen’s pick).

In the fall of 1966, the family packed up and moved to Canton. I was seven years old and my sister was long gone to Indiana University. We lived in a townhouse apartment for a couple years before moving into a little bungalow. At some point my sister transferred from IU to Kent State pursuing a fine arts degree. There were so many historical points on the timeline to mention leading up to the release of Tommy by The Who on May 17, 1969. We received two newspapers a day (The Cleveland Dealer and Canton Repository) before cable and 24/7 news reporting. My folks had a record collection made up primarily of Broadway Shows, Classical Music, and comedy records. I still had my kids records and some 45’s purchased at the local department store Giant Tiger. By this time I was ten years old. I remember sitting in our little bedroom turned family room when my sister said you need to listen to this record. I must have played it a zillion times.

The Hitchcock twist to this story is that I’m not sure if my sister remembers or realizes the influence of these three records on my vinyl addiction. I’m sixty-one years young now. 💖

Ah, but does there need to be another Hitchcock twist to tie these all together?  My last posting was on December 25, 2019.  After twelve years of writing it was time to take a break.  I had a difficult time just trying to sit down and write a story about the Nashville/Memphis road trip that took place a few months ago.  Thinking about this challenge of not just picking records I love (I have a sixteen cube Ikea unit of vinyl and another six drawers of CDs) but one’s that had either an interesting story or impact on my life.  Maybe there’s still a little life in these fingers after all.  Stay tuned for the rest of the story …  

7 Albums That I Love – 1 Per Day Day 1 .... I have accepted a challenge (from Edward Benjamin Blau II Esquire) to post seven albums that I love - one album per day.