#and then pack for flying home next tuesday

[dreamertrilogyy]

been working on this essay abt the birds (movie) all day and i feel like even tho it makes sense it also makes no sense like there’s only so many times u can write that bird attacks are a metaphor for societal anxieties without feeling like you’re losing ur grip on ur sanity

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: more svech! just straight up fluff happening here. i loved writing this one so much! i was going to save this for svech’s birthday on sunday but i’m an adhd bitch and couldn’t wait lol so now we’re celebrating the canes clinching a playoff spot. (also fully exposing my mister svechnikov kink by adding it into every fic sorry not sorry)

word count: 7.2k (i am INCAPABLE of not blathering on about svech apparently)

tw: like super mild childbirth and more google-translate russian

summary: you and andrei welcome your first baby

“I don’t know,” Andrei’s hand is splayed flat over your stomach while he lies in bed next to you, “maybe I should talk to Rod. See if I can stay home until the baby’s here.” The baby rolls and kicks at his hand and Andrei’s lips turn up into a soft smile. His eyes are still a little cloudy and conflicted though.

You stretch out your legs, trying to ease the pain in your hip from having to lay on your side. “You’re only going to Nashville. It’s not far and I’m due in a week and a half. Plenty of time for you to get there and back without having to let your boys down.”

Andrei starts to protest, but you shake your head. “I know you don’t want to miss any games so close to the playoffs, Drei. And I also know that you’re not going to miss baby being born. We can do it all.”

He rubs at your stomach again, looking deep in thought. “Nashville is two days. To get there, to play, and to come back - more like three. What if you go into labor during the game?”

“Then,” you yawn, “I’ll have someone pull you off the ice and you can come straight to the hospital. Labor takes hours. Honestly, Drei, you’re not going to miss it.”

You know he wants to be there for you and for the team, especially coming down the home stretch of the regular season when the Canes are holding onto first in the Metro. You love that he’s so dedicated to his team and honestly, the thought of him sitting around and staring at you, waiting for you to pop, isn’t that relaxing. He’s attentive, but sometimes you need a bit of space.

Andrei rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. He huffs a sigh before rolling back onto his side to look at you. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” you reassure him. “Plus all four of our parents are going to be here in a couple of days. There’s no shortage of people who can get me to a hospital and call you, if we need it.”

He looks a little more reassured now, remembering that his parents are flying in on Tuesday, just hours after he flies out to Nashville. Your parents are only a forty-five minute drive away, so the second labor starts, if Andrei isn’t around, you can call them. You kick the blankets off your legs, too hot and uncomfortable in the unseasonably warm early spring weather. All you want to do is lie on your stomach and stretch out, but thanks to the giant belly bump, that’s a no-go. You’ve always been aware that Andrei was big and tall, but you hadn’t really thought about it until your baby was all squished up in your stomach, your skin stretched uncomfortably. It really does feel like you’re snuggling a watermelon around, and especially now that the baby’s dropped in the last few days, you’re really feeling uncomfortable.

Andrei’s hand rubs soft circles over the peak of your stomach, tapping the spots that the baby kicks in a little game. He props his head up on his palm and traces his fingers over your skin. “I can’t believe he’ll be here in a week,” he says.

“Or she,” you counter cheekily. “But yeah, it’s feeling a little scary now.”

The nursery’s been done for about two weeks now - painted and decorated around Andrei’s travel schedule. You have your hospital bag packed and ready in the front hall closet. The freezer is stocked full of meals your mom had made and delivered last week. All that’s left now is to wait for baby to make their appearance.

You shift on the bed, your lower back sore and stiff. “Drei…” you pout, “will you rub my back?” You blink wide eyes up at him and he smiles, needing no extra begging or encouragement to help you into a sitting position.

He opens his legs and settles you in between them, warm, large hands coming to rest on your lower back. “Here, solnyshka?” He asks, thumbs already digging into the stiff muscles. You hum an affirmative response, leaning forward as much as your stomach will allow and enjoying the pleasant stretch of your back. His hands work out the knots smoothly and you melt, finally getting a little relief.

“I can’t wait to finally not have to carry around this watermelon,” you sigh, hands cradling your stomach.

Andrei’s hands work up your back to your shoulders, “I can’t wait to hold the baby all the time, to make up for the nine months you did all the work.” He kisses behind your ear and digs his thumb into a particularly painful knot by your shoulder blade.

“Oh,” you gasp, going limp as the muscle releases. You sag back against his chest, trapping Andrei’s hands in between your bodies. “That felt so good. Forget hockey, become my personal masseuse.”

“Isn’t that already my side job?” He teases, fingers fluttering against your back where they’re stuck. You shift a little and he pulls his arms out and immediately rests them on the underside of your stomach, lifting gently so some of the pressure is off your pelvis.

A strangled noise of contentment escapes your throat and you lean further back against him. “Full time, I need back massages and bump lifting full time, Drei.”

“Whatever you want, solnyshka,” he tucks your head under his chin and sits still so you can relax. He’s so warm and solid you find your eyes closing, finally in a comfortable enough position to sleep a little.

A sharp jab to your bladder - a little foot or elbow, most likely - startles you awake with a wince. You shift, Andrei’s arms still encircling your body. He’s snoring softly in your ear and you realize that he fell asleep too, holding you against his chest. His head is tilted back against the headboard and it can’t be comfortable, but he’s out like a light, even when you wiggle a little to try and get off the bed. The need to use the bathroom is urgent.

“Mmm, solnyshka?” He mumbles, waking up a bit when you gently push his arms off of you.

“Go back to sleep,” you whisper into the dark. “I just have to pee.”

Andrei hums another response, but swings his legs off the bed and steadies you with a hand on your lower back and the other on your hip. His eyes are shut the entire time and he’s snoring again by the time you’re halfway to the bathroom. His legs are still dangling off the bed and you shake your head a little. Once you finish in the bathroom, you take a minute to look in the mirror, turning to the side and smoothing your shirt over your stomach. In a week or less, this bump is going to be a baby in your arms. You can’t wait to meet it, to see which of your features or Andrei’s are stronger.

“Just wait until Daddy is home, okay, baby?” You whisper, rubbing your palm over a spot low on you stomach where the baby’s jabbed a limb. “That better be a yes, mom, whatever you say.”

Andrei’s still half hanging off the bed when you waddle - god, you’re sick of the waddling! - back into the bedroom. He’s exhausted, between the travel, the actual playing, and being there for you, no matter what you need. You wish there were a way to let him keep sleeping while putting him back on the bed properly, but there really isn’t, so you carefully crawl back onto your side of the bed and situate yourself with the giant body pillows wrapped around your body and then reach out to nudge Andrei’s shoulder.

“Hey,” you whisper, “Drei, baby, get back into bed.”

He startles, blinking into the dark, and rubs a hand over his face. “Huh?” He looks around and seems to realize that his feet are on the floor while his upper body is in bed. “Oh,” he mutters, pulling his legs back up on the bed and under the covers. He reaches for you, still clearly half-asleep, and you let him pull you closer. The body pillow is entirely in the way and Andrei grumbles. “I hate this pillow,” he mutters, doing his best to wrap his body around yours.

“Just a little bit longer,” you mumble, fully knowing that you may never sleep without the body pillow again. It’s just so damn comfortable.

You wish you could sleep in the next morning, but even though Andrei is doing his best to be quiet while he gets ready, the baby is apparently dealing with hiccups. It’s like a little alien in your stomach and it’s both weirdly endearing and also freaking you out a little. You’re awake by 7:30, but you just stay in bed, smoothing your hand over your stomach, watching the way it jumps around.

“So freaky,” you mutter. Eventually Andrei wanders back into your room, holding a protein shake and already a little sweaty.

“Morning, milaya,” he drops a kiss on your lips and you squint at him.

“Did you already fit in a workout?”

He ruffles the hair on the back of his head, a little sheepish, “yeah. I woke up early. Ah, I’m getting a little nervous.” He sits down on the edge of the bed and you reach out for his hand. You stroke your thumb over the ridges of his knuckles. He squeezes your fingers gently.

“I’m nervous too,” you admit. “But we’re the ultimate team, right? I don’t know what I’m doing and you don’t either. But we’ll learn together.”

Andrei lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses the underside of your wrist. He rests his cheek against the back of your hand and you wiggle your fingers against his stubble, smiling slightly.

“You’re going to be the best dad,” you say, one-hundred percent confident in your statement.

He chews on his lower lip, absorbing your words, and nods. “If I’m half as good of a dad as you will be a mom, then I think the baby will be okay,” he says, leaning in to kiss you again. You sigh into his mouth.

“Glad we’re all on the same page,” you joke. “Now please help me up because I really can’t do it on my own anymore.”

Andrei obliges, pulling you to your feet and watching attentively as you go slowly about your morning routine. You shoo him out of the room after fifteen minutes, starting to get agitated with his hovering. “Drei, please, I’m fine. Just go shower and get ready to go to your skate,” you sigh, twisting your hair into a pair of messy braids and pinning them up into a milkmaid style so it’s off your neck.

“Okay, sorry, milaya,” he kisses the nape of your neck and ducks into the shower, leaving you time to change into a different lounge set and head for the kitchen. Nothing sounds appealing to you, mild nausea making your stomach roll. You settle for popping a slice of bread into the toaster and grabbing an avocado. You lean your elbow on the counter and prop your chin in the palm of your hand, yawning while you wait for your toast. Sleep quality really had declined the last few weeks.

Andrei’s back in the kitchen as you’re eating the avocado straight from its peel. He looks at you, raising an eyebrow and lips twitching in an effort to hide his amusement. You wrinkle your nose at him. “I didn’t want the toast,” you explain, gesturing at the butter smeared bread with your spoon. “You can have it, if you want.”

He snags the toast with two fingers and kisses the side of your head. “Spasibo. I’ll text you when I’m leaving the rink, if you need anything, okay?” He asks around a mouthful of bread.

You nod, “be careful. Love you.”

After he leaves, you tidy the kitchen and the living room, even though neither are all that dirty. You just mostly want to keep moving a bit - once you sit down, you’re basically not getting up for God or country.

By the time Andrei gets home for his pre-game nap and meal, he finds you curled up on the couch, sobbing at an episode of Bones. He’s immediately kneeling on the floor in front of you, running his hands over you thighs, “hey, what’s going on? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

“We’re fine,” you wave him off with a sniffle. “It’s just…Bones and Booth danced around their relationship for so long! And I forgot how unsatisfying it was when they finally got together.”

Andrei looks at you like you’re crazy before schooling his features into a more neutral expression. He sucks his upper lip in between his teeth, clearly trying not to laugh. He rubs at your knee soothingly, “how about you come nap with me? Take a break from the TV.”

You nod, rubbing at your damp eyes like an overtired toddler. The hormones are fluctuating wildly today. Andrei gently helps you get to your feel and trails after you to the bedroom. “How was morning skate?” You ask, climbing into bed. Andrei wraps his body around yours, the big spoon to your little, and buries his face in your hair.

“Good, it was nice to get a little energy flowing before the game,” he mumbles into your hair. His arms are a secure cocoon of warmth around you and the baby kicks where his palm is splayed flat over the side of your stomach. “Hello to you too, little one,” he says a little louder.

You snuggle into his embrace and fall asleep easily, the hour long nap passing faster than you had thought. Andrei gets up and starts getting dressed, while you watch. He’s in game mode now, more serious than before, more in his head. You know he’s thinking about the plays that were surely drawn up during morning skate. He steps into his suit pants - a new plaid number that is a mild assault on the eyes, but he’s so damn handsome he makes it work - and does a little hop in place when he does up the button and fly. You’re blatantly ogling him when he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it into the hamper.

“Creep,” he teases you, catching you looking.

“Don’t be so handsome then,” you shoot back, pointedly rubbing your stomach.

His smile turns a little feral and his eyes darken. “You look good like that, pregnant with my baby,” his voice is low and you press your thighs together.

You shake your finger at him, “no way, keep it in your pants, Mister Svechnikov, that’s how we ended up here in the first place.”

He laughs, eyes twinkling and dimple popping, finishing buttoning up his shirt. “I didn’t hear any complaints,” he says casually.

“Give it a week or so and I’m sure you’ll be hearing a few complaints,” you wince at a particularly strong kick lands somewhere in the vicinity of your ribs. “I know it’s cramped in there, but easy on the ribs,” you murmur to your stomach.

Andrei finishes getting ready, eats a quick meal, and is back on the road. He’ll be at the arena nearly three hours before the game, but you know it’s part of his routine. Besides, Brady likes to get there early too, so you know he won’t be alone. More likely, Brady will be alone while Andrei handles the puck by the boards before people start coming.

You send Andrei your usual pre-game text and make yourself a light dinner. The TV gets switched to the pre-game and you settle on the couch with your book and laptop. Your mom checks in with you, FaceTiming for a bit, and Elena is texting too, confusing you a little with the time difference, but she’s so excited to get into town tomorrow. The WAG group chat is buzzing too - asking how you are and sending pictures of the kids at the game. You doze off during the game, but wake up to a winning score for the Canes mid-way through the third. The score holds and Andrei comes home bouncy and full of energy.

“Four game point streak!” You grin, cheering for him as he comes into the house.

Andrei blushes and waves you off. “Team effort,” is all he says, even though he was a driving force on the ice. He drops to his knees next to the couch and rubs your stomach. “How’s baby?”

“Kicking away,” you card your fingers through Andrei’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. He leans into your touch like a cat. “I’m pretty sure she’s going to kick her way out, like in Alien.”

“Gross,” Andrei pulls a face and then ducks closer to your stomach, whispering to the bump. And in Russian too, so even though you can hear him, you can’t understand him.

You nudge his shoulder with a foot. “Secrets, secrets are no fun, unless you share them with everyone,” you tease.

He shakes his head, “it’s between a father and his child.”

“Rude,” you roll your eyes affectionately, pouting a bit. “Take me to bed, Mister Svechnikov, it’s past my bedtime and growing your child is making me sleepy.”

“Whatever you want, Mrs. Svechnikova,” he grins.

All of his post-game excitement is worn off by the next morning and he’s back to worrying about missing the baby’s birth. “Please, Drei, go to Nashville,” you sigh, rubbing at your lower back. “You’ll be back Thursday afternoon. Your mom and dad are coming in this afternoon. There’s nothing happening.”

“I just don’t want to miss anything,” he protests. His phone is on the counter and his fingers twitch, like he’s going to snatch it up and text Rod any second. You bat the phone away from him and scowl.

“Go to the game, Andrei,” you say firmly. “If anything happens, and it won’t, I’ll make sure someone gets the message to you and gets you on a plane back here, okay?”

“Okay,” he sighs, clearly wanting to argue with you more, but catches sight of the look on your face and wisely shuts his mouth. Eventually, he’s all packed up and is kissing you good-bye so he can head to the airport. “I love you, milaya,” he says against your temple.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, starting to feel a little emotional. Damn hormones. “I’m sorry I keep snapping at you.”

He chuckles a bit. “It’s okay, you’re allowed. I’ll see you in two days, okay?” His hands come up to cradle your belly. “Keep mama company, okay little one?”

You sniffle and laugh a little wetly. “I’ve got a foot wedged in my ribs, I’m never alone,” you joke.

With one more kiss, Andrei is off and you’re alone. It’s not like this is the first time he’s been gone during the last nine months, and there have been periods where he was gone even longer than two days, but maybe it’s because you’re so close to your due date that you’re feeling extra emotional.

To distract yourself, you make sharlotka - an apple cake from a recipe Elena sent you a few weeks ago when your main craving had been apples dipped in honey. She and Igor are already en route to Raleigh and you invited them over for dinner when they land, mostly to keep you company so you don’t go crazy.

Andrei’s in Nashville and has texted you about fifteen times by the time his parents Uber to your place. You click over onto FaceTime and grin at him, “you can relax, my love. The calvary is here.” You turn the camera and his parents wave at him.

“We will take good care of her, Andreyusha,” Elena blows him a kiss.

“But we will not save you any cake,” Igor teases, holding up his plate, having immediately beelined for the dessert.

Andrei looks a little put out about the cake, but relieved that you’re not alone. “I thought you were going to relax?”

“A girl has to eat,” you tease. “We’re good here, focus on the game and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Elena and Igor end up staying in the guest room, exhausted from the travel, and you reap the rewards when you wake up to a full breakfast spread. “I couldn’t sleep,” Elena shrugs, her smile just like Andrei’s. “Besides, I needed to make sure my doch and grandbaby are well-fed.”

She pats your cheek and sets a plate full of eggs, toast, fruit, and bacon in front of you. You blink at the amount of food, knowing you’re definitely not going to be able to eat it all, but thank her effusively.

“I didn’t even think we had bacon or all this fruit in the house,” you comment, nibbling at a corner of the toast.

“You didn’t,” Elena laughs. “I went to the grocery store.”

“Oh, gosh! Elena, you didn’t have to do that,” you say. “You’re supposed to be on vacation.”

She waves you off, bracelets clinking together on her wrist. “This is vacation. With family, waiting for the baby? My girl, this is exactly what I want to do.”

“Oh, okay,” you slump back in the chair, trying to stretch your back. “If you’re sure…”

“I am sure, now eat some eggs. The calcium is good for growing the baby.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you jokingly salute and dig into the eggs. They’re actually really good - soft and creamy and definitely hitting the spot. You’re finishing breakfast when Igor comes through the front door. You do a double-take - you thought he had been upstairs this whole time.

“Can’t have breakfast without pastries,” he winks at you, setting a bakery bag on the counter. His mischievous smile is just like Andrei’s. Elena pulls out a box stuffed full of croissants, muffins, turnovers, and doughnuts.

“Oh, wow,” you grin, reaching for a chocolate croissant. “A girl could definitely get used to this treatment.”

After breakfast, you try to help clean up but are forced back down into the chair. They ask if you and Andrei have picked a name and that’s a big fat no. Neither one of you can agree on a name you like. You have a little idea forming in the back of your head, but you don’t want to say anything to Andrei until the baby’s born.

It’s a beautiful April day in Raleigh, so Elena hustles you all outside for a walk in the fresh air. It’s slow going since you’re hauling around the giant baby bump, but the fresh air feels good and the walk is helping the stiffness in your lower back. You assume the stereotypical pregnant woman pose, with your hands bracing at your lower back while you walk.

A little cramp ripples over your stomach and you wince, pressing your fingers into the spot. You wait, but it doesn’t happen again, so you figure it was probably breakfast settling. But you’re on alert for the rest of the day, just in case. The only thing still bothering you at dinner time is your lower back, but that’s been sore and stiff for two weeks now, so you assume it’s just from the weight of carrying the baby.

At least, that’s what you assume until it’s thirty minutes to puck drop and you feel a slight popping sensation between your legs, accompanied by a trickle of liquid.

You stand stock still for a beat and then mutter, “oh, shit. Andrei’s going to kill me.”

Elena looks up from her book and frowns at you, “what’s going on?”

“I, ah, think my water broke,” you grip the countertop tightly. Liquid continues to drip down your thighs and there’s a little cramp like the one you felt earlier. “Oh, yeah, definitely my water breaking.”

Andrei’s parents jump up from their spots on the couch and from there it’s a flurry of action. You call your mom and she has your dad in the car before you can even get a word in beyond “hey, mom, I’m in labor.” They’ll be at your place within the hour.

A stronger cramp grips your stomach and now you realize that you’ve been feeling contractions for the last day or so. Andrei’s going to be so annoyed that you made him go to Nashville. Warm-ups have started and you know that Andrei’s unreachable by phone for the foreseeable future. You still text him anyway (“hi sorry i said nothing was gonna happen but i’m in labor 😅😬”) and when another contraction hits fifteen minutes after the last one, you figure it’s about time to head to the hospital.

While Igor drives, you text Heather Staal, wondering if she can get ahold of Jordan or Rod to let Andrei know before he gets on the ice. She promises to try and get the message across, reassuring you that you’ll be fine and Andrei won’t miss a thing. You really hope she’s right, because you’ll never hear the end of it otherwise.

You settle a bit once you get admitted and changed into the flimsy hospital gown. Your parents get to the hospital just a few minutes after you do and your mom immediately joins Elena in your room, making sure you have everything you need.

Right now, you just really need Andrei.

Your dad and Igor are in the waiting room watching, ironically, the Canes game. They pop back into the room every few minutes to offer an update.

“He’s still on the bench.”

“Took a shift, had an assist on a Brady goal.”

“Still on the ice.”

“First intermission and he’s going back to the room. No one looks like they’ve told him anything.”

You huff through increasing contractions while they update you, getting irritated.

“Start of the second, oh, he’s still on the bench.”

“What the fuck,” you mutter, grabbing your phone and texting Heather again. She’s sympathetic, but had texted Rod and wasn’t sure what was happening. You’re halfway ready to call Bridgestone’s main line and start screaming.

Your dad skids into the room while you’re gripping your mom’s hand through a contraction. “He’s off the ice! Looks like one of the assistant coaches told Rod something and then Andrei was yanked off the bench.”

You start crying, relieved that Andrei is finally going to be on his way.

Not even fifteen minutes later, he FaceTimes you.

“I’m on my way, solnyshka, I’ll be there soon,” the words burst out of his mouth. He’s half dressed, shirt buttoned all wrong and sweaty hair mussed over his forehead. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, it hurts, obviously, but I’m okay. Just get here in one piece, okay? I’m so sorry I made you go to the game,” you wipe at the tears on your face, pressing your lips together to smother a shout as another contraction hits.

Andrei’s face is pale on your phone’s screen. “It’s not your fault. I’m on my way now, just hold on for a little bit.” He tells you he loves you and hangs up as he runs out of the locker room.

While you suffer through the contractions, Andrei texts you with updates. He’s booked on a flight out of Nashville that doesn’t leave until 10 and he’s clearly annoyed about it - there’s not a single emoji in his messages. You try not to freak out that he’s going to miss anything. At your last check, you were only 3 centimeters dilated, so there’s still hours of labor ahead of you. You pace the hallways, holding the IV pole keeping you hydrated, with your mom and Elena at your back for support. When you walk past a TV, it’s turned to the post-game and Rod is fielding a question about Andrei’s abrupt departure during the second.

Rod smiles on screen, “well, I’ll tell you it wasn’t for anything bad. His wife’s in labor back home, so as soon as we heard that, Svechy took off. Don’t think any of us could’ve stopped him even if we wanted to. We’re wishing the both of them the best of luck and can’t wait to hear about the newest member of the Caniac family. Next question?”

You start crying again, overly tired and overly emotional. You just want Andrei.

The epidural is administered around 11:30 and you doze off for a bit, waking up confused when a particularly bad contraction hits. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to feel anything?” You whine, gripping the rails of the bed.

The nurse hums at you sympathetically, “they’re not totally 100% effective, hon.”

You glare at her, but she’s clearly used to worse, because it doesn’t phase her at all. She just continues taking your vitals and making her notes.

Once the contraction passes, you ask, “have you seen my parents and in-laws?”

“I think the dads left, saying something about the airport, and the moms are in the coffee shop downstairs,” she pats your hand. “Sounds like you might be getting your husband here soon.”

And you do.

Thankfully, Andrei’s flight was right on time and smooth, so he landed in Raleigh at midnight and with your dad breaking speed limits, is at the hospital and by your side before 1:30. He skids into the room, looking frazzled. “I’m sorry, mne zhal, I’m so sorry, my love,” he babbles, stopping at your side and stroking your hair off your forehead before leaning down to kiss you. “I’m here. I didn’t know, they didn’t tell me until the second…”

The tears flow easily and you grip Andrei’s hand like never before. “I don’t care, I’m just glad you’re here now,” you break off into a shout and curl up when the contraction hits. Stupid fucking epidural.

He keeps hold of your hand and strokes your hair, murmuring in Russian. With his other hand, he rakes his hair off his face. Once you let go, he takes off his suit jacket, tossing it on the spare chair, and rolls up the sleeves of his button down. “How long, do the doctors say?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “Last check, I was like 6 or 7 centimeters.”

All four of your parents are hovering at the doorway and you wave them in with a sigh. Elena hands Andrei a coffee and a sandwich, kissing his cheek when he leans down. “Eat up, you are going to have a long night,” she says, smiling and barely hiding her excitement.

“Spasibo, mama,” he sighs, taking a long drink of coffee. Half the cup is gone and you watch him enviously. Your mom sets another cup down on the little railing tray table.

“That’ll be cold before you get to it,” she says, “but I’m sure you’ll need it.”

Andrei thanks her too and thanks the dads for getting him to the hospital so quickly. They both shrug him off, also barely concealing their excitement. Andrei laughs, “now, I think we’d like a little privacy?” He looks over at you and you nod tiredly. The four parents are kind of a lot to deal with all at once. He grabs the tangle of keys from his pocket and passes them to his dad. “Can you bring me a change of clothes and my car?”

Of course, Igor agrees and all four parents follow him from the room, debating on who will go and which cars they’re going to switch around. You honestly don’t care what they do, just that they leave.

Once they’re all gone, Andrei sucks in a deep breath and sits on the edge of the bed. “Okay, just us now,” he says, sounding a little dazed.

“Just us and the kid,” you reply, exhausted.

“Just us and the kid,” he repeats, smiling slightly. “The timing on this kid,” he shakes his head.

“I know,” you laugh. “I really didn’t think anything was going to happen.”

“It’s all happening now though,” Andrei holds your hand, barely flinching when you squeeze.

Your labor stalls briefly and then it’s nearly 3 a.m. and you’re pushing. Andrei’s at your side, holding one of your legs up by the thigh. He has the other arm wrapped around your shoulders and you’re nearly bent in half. The doctor counts down from ten and then you’re allowed to slump back against the pillows for a few seconds of a break.

“It hurts,” you sob, grasping for Andrei’s hands. He wipes at your tears.

“I know, I know, but you’re doing so good,” he croons. “You’re doing so good and we’ll have a baby soon.”

You’re instructed to push again and Andrei cheers you on, murmuring encouragement in your ear. You shriek, your entire body too hot and too tight and then there’s a release and a different cry.

“Oh,” you drop back against the pillows, suddenly empty.

Andrei looks down at you in shock and then at the baby that’s held in the doctor’s hands, bloody and screaming. He laughs and kisses you deeply, “it’s a girl! A little girl, moya koroleva. You did it.” He bounces on the balls of his feet, vibrating with excitement.

“A girl?” You cry, laughing with joy when the baby’s held up and placed on your chest. “Oh my god, it’s a girl.” Your hands wrap around the baby instinctively, cradling her little head, sobbing as you look at her features.

Andrei’s crying too, his eyes red. He wipes the back of his wrist under his nose and presses her forehead against your temple. “She’s beautiful. Just like her mama.” His voice is hoarse and tears are dripping onto your bare shoulder.

“Drei,” you whisper, full of emotion, and he gets it, kissing you deeply.

“I am so proud of you, my love. My two girls. My best girls,” he laughs, disbelieving. He settles one hand on the baby’s back and she looks impossibly small under his touch.

Time seems to blur from there and you’re allowed to keep the baby on your chest while the nurses run their tests. You hear snippets - she’s 6 pounds, thirteen ounces, twenty-one inches long - but otherwise you have tunnel vision on the gorgeous little baby that’s all yours and Andrei’s. Andrei gets her for skin-to-skin time while they clean you up and you sob again, watching him cradle her on one forearm. He looks up at you, hair flopping over his forehead, exhausted dark circles under his eyes, and beams at you, full dimple and missing tooth showing.

“I love you,” he mouths and then he looks back down at the baby, his expression soft and awed.

Before you know it, you’ve managed to feed the baby and get in a little nap in your private room. Andrei’s stretched out on the little couch, feet dangling over the edge. He hasn’t changed, even though his dad brought back clothes hours ago, so he’s still in his suit pants and dress shoes, button down shirt half-buttoned. He’s dozing too, getting in a nap since he’s been awake for over 24 hours at this point. At some point you know the four parents are going to be bursting down the door to meet her, but for now, they’re respectfully staying at your house until you call to give the okay to come by. It’s nice that they’re letting you and Andrei have time to bond with her, although from the amount of crying when Andrei had called to tell them it was a girl, you don’t think they’ll be able to hold off too much longer.

The nurse brings in the baby in her little plastic bassinet, cheerfully transferring her to your arms so you can feed her again. “Does she have a name?” the nurse asks, getting you all situated. It’s the second time you’ve been asked about her name, but you haven’t had a chance to run your idea by Andrei.

Before you can answer, Andrei’s voice cuts in. “Yeah,” he yawns, “does she have a name?”

You laugh, “no, not yet. But I did have an idea.”

Andrei looks at you expectantly, but you wait until the nurse leaves to speak. Without looking at him, you trace your finger over the slope of the baby’s nose - your nose - and it twitches, like a little rabbit. Andrei smiles at the sight.

“A little zaychik,” he says, watching her nose twitch again while she sucks at your nipple. “What name did you have in mind?”

“I was thinking,” you start, looking up at him, “she needs a name that means something to us. I’d like to name her after someone that means a lot to us too. A name that can inspire her and well, what do you think of Evgenia? Evie for short.”

Andrei’s face freezes and his hand is still against the bottom of the baby’s foot where he’s been stroking with his index finger. He coughs, swallows. “For Geno?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, “since he’s your best friend. I thought it might be nice to honor him.”

Andrei’s eyes well up and he runs the back of his wrist under his nose again while nodding. “I…yeah, solnyshka, yeah. I like that. I think he’ll like it too.” He sniffles and kisses your forehead. Looking down at the baby, he strokes her little hand where it rests on the swell of your breast. “What do you think, Evgenia? Are you an Evie?”

Evie’s little nose twitches again and you press your lips together to muffle a little cry. Seems like that’s settled.

“Evie,” you murmur, heart bursting with love. “She’s going to be the best adventure, huh?”

“We’ll definitely have a good story to tell her about her birth,” he laughs a little wetly, taking her from your arms when she’s done eating. He burps her the way the nurse showed him earlier, looking like a natural. Evie sighs and settles, falling asleep in his arms, her little lips pursed in a pout.

While she’s sleeping, Andrei pulls his phone from his pocket and FaceTimes Geno, clicking the volume lower so his brother’s shouted greeting of excitement doesn’t wake the baby. It’s well after breakfast in San Jose and Geno is outside, sun shining brightly behind him.

“Well? My baby brother has a baby?” Geno grins. “Mama called, but wouldn’t tell me if it’s a boy or a girl or the name. Said you two wanted to share that news. Although you didn’t have a name picked when she called.”

Andrei settles on the mattress next to you and you wave at Geno, a tired smile on your face. “That’s because we just picked it like ten minutes ago,” you laugh.

“You look good, mladshaya sestra,” Geno says warmly. “Now don’t keep me waiting. Uncle Geno’s dying to hear.”

Andrei angles his phone down so Evie’s face fills the screen and you can hear Geno’s exclamation of excitement. “Meet your niece, Evgenia Svechnikova. Evie for short.”

Geno’s speechless for a moment and then he starts rambling in Russian, his voice hoarse and clearly emotional. Andrei’s crying again and then you’re crying and the only one not crying is the actual hours-old baby.

“Evie,” Geno repeats. “She’s beautiful.” He pauses and then jokes, “clearly takes after her namesake.”

Andrei shifts the phone back up so it’s just the adults on screen and you can see Geno wiping at his eyes. You lean your head against Andrei’s shoulder.

“I love you guys,” Geno says.

“We love you too, Uncle Geno,” you reply.

“I’m hanging up before you make me cry again,” he laughs, waving and ending the call. Andrei chuckles and sets his phone down on the mattress near his leg.

“That went well,” he deadpans, a smile playing at his lips.

“I can’t wait to tell your parents her name,” you smirk. “I don’t think there’s enough tissues in the greater-Raleigh area for the flood that’s gonna come out of your mom.”

Andrei looks down at Evie, “are you ready to meet your babushki and dedushki, zaychik?”

Evie continues to sleep soundly, her little face twitching as she dreams.

“I think the question is if we’re ready for the babushki and dedushki,” you tease, holding onto Andrei’s bicep with one hand and tracing the shell of Evie’s ear with the other. She’s just so perfect, you could stare at her forever.

The grandparents are invited to come by after dinner, after you’ve sent Andrei home to shower and eat a real meal. The nurses take Evie to the nursery and you get a solid chunk of sleep. Andrei’s back before you know it, holding a takeout bag in one hand and a little shopping bag in the other.

“What’s that?” You sit up, curious, and set aside your phone. It’s been blowing up with congratulations from your family members and the team.

He sets the takeout bag in front of you, “sushi, as requested.”

You moan happily, “oh thank God, I’ve been craving a spicy tuna roll.” You dig into the food while Andrei sets the other bag on the mattress. He looks a little embarrassed, ears pink, so you wait for him to share.

“I passed by that boutique you like,” he says, pulling out a tissue paper wrapped bundle. “And saw this.” He unwraps it and a little beige onesie spills out, softly ribbed fabric extending up into a hood with a pair of floppy bunny ears attached.

“Oh!” You gasp, all thoughts of sushi forgotten as you take the little outfit. “Drei!” You start crying again. “It’s so cute!”

“Evie needs to be dressed in her finest to meet the grandparents,” he laughs.

“Dressed as a little baby bunny,” you cry, wiping at your face. “Dammit, these hormones are killing me. Ugh, Drei, I love this. I love it and I love you and I love her and I…” You break off into a choking little sob-laugh. “I can’t believe she’s ours.”

He wraps you up in a hug and you cry into his shoulder - he smells like laundry detergent and home. “I can’t either,” he agrees, exhaling in disbelief. Yesterday you were a duo and now you’re a trio.

Andrei pulls back from the hug and looks down at you, eyes twinkling. “Should I go get the little zaychik? Get her all presentable for the grandparents?”

When he brings her back, Evie’s dressed in the little bunny onesie, waving her hands in the air and you promptly start sobbing again. Andrei patiently rubs your back while you blubber about how adorable she is.

He settles her in your arms, already a natural at holding her. You knew he was going to be an amazing dad, but you could never have imagined this.

“Your dada is the best man in the world, Evie,” you whisper to her, kissing a little baby fist when she waves it around. Andrei just looks at you like you’ve hung the moon, a sweet, tired smile on his face.

Considering the fact that your entire lives have just changed, you’ve never felt happier.

[indigosunsetao3]

The place is packed. Midmorning on a Tuesday you thought it wouldn’t be so bad, but your assumptions were wrong. It also didn’t help that there was a wreck on the highway that prolonged your drive by thirty minutes.

“Come on, come on,” you groan hitting the elevator door shut button over and over. Just as it’s about to shut a hand slides in to stop it and a family pushes in with their bags. You don’t have time for this. Pushing past them you sling the strap of your bag over your shoulder and head back out into the crowd.

“Sorry, excuse me,” you mutter as you shove past people on the escalator. Most people move. Some with agitated looks, others simply with lazy sidesteps as if they had seen it all before being usuals flying for work.

But you aren’t late for your flight, you’re late for his. Glancing at one of the televisions as you hustle past you spot the arrivals, he landed over twenty minutes ago. Skidding at the bottom of the next set of steps you find the baggage return carousel is empty, not even a lonely forgotten bag on the track. Everyone already grabbed their things and left.

“Please still be here,” you gasp to yourself as you dart outside to the line of cars picking everyone up. There’s a hodgepodge of buses, families picking up loved ones, and taxis all over. He had told you not to worry about getting him, a taxi wasn’t a huge deal. He knew you had work and it was a busy time, but four months apart you’d be damned if he was getting a taxi home.

Then you spot him. He’s standing by a pillar, phone in one hand texting, duffle hanging loosely in the other. Four months of waiting, of hoping for his safe return, and there he stands. The sudden wave of happiness and peace that he’s home hits you like a freight train and it’s enough to stop you in your tracks.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket and you know it was you he was texting. You reach for the phone to see what he said, smiling that you were the first person he’s reaching out to.

But then he’s moving. Stepping towards a yellow cab and you’re jolted from your reverence as someone knocks into you.

“Alex!” You yell out, lurching forward toward him. He doesn’t hear you. The slamming of car doors and roar of engines were deafening in this little tunnel. “Alex!” You try again as you get closer and he hesitates, turns his head, as if unsure if he heard his name. He looks tired as he glances around. A fresh red mark adorns his cheek, and while that causes you to frown internally, the smile on your face doesn’t waver.

“Alex!” Another shout as you sidestep a car that slams on its brakes as you enter the crosswalk. He spots you now. The hand that was braced on the taxi door lets go and he turns to you with a look of shock and amusement.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” you breathe out as you crash into him full on sprinting. He stumbles back a step, his hands wrapping tightly around your middle as he drops the duffle to the wet ground. “Traffic was awful and this airport is so huge,” you babble into his chest as you hold him tight, your feet leaving the ground for a second. “Why are there so many people during the week?” You mutter as he cups your face to get you to look at him through the happy tears.

“What are you doing here? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” He asks as he kisses you, his facial hair scraping against your lips and cheeks having filled in over the past few weeks; wild and untamed. “I would have waited.”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” you answer before peppering him with more kisses, still slightly breathless. “I had this whole thing planned,” you explain as the taxi driver rolls down the window to ask if you’re leaving or not. You both ignore him for a second, too lost in one another to look away.

“Well, you got the surprise part down,” Alex answers as he gently tugs you away from the taxi while grabbing his bag. “Tell me about the rest of it. Where did you park?” He asks as he looks around the pickup area to see if that is where you came from.

“Ah,” you squeeze his hand as he leads you. “Pretty sure I made my own parking space in the garage so we may need to hurry before security gets there,” you explain before laughing as he picks up the pace.

Random thought this morning while combing through all my work emails. The airport was packed on the way home yesterday so I guess my brain latched onto that.

[callmewrinkles3]

Going to bed, 11 🖤

June 2019

Em hated watching Dan packing. It had been months of the same routine but she still hated it, knowing he was going away for weeks didn’t get easier with time. Especially when it was a long trip or a triple header. She’d wanted to go to the European races but needed to work so she could afford their ridiculous summer break plans, so instead she was looking on as he filled his suitcase.

She shouldn’t really complain, she knew how lucky she was to be able to spend time with Daniel. Especially since he was nearly always in her apartment, how he came back to it after he arrived back in the UK from a race. The feelings stayed buried deep in her chest, afraid to ruin whatever they had because of her emotions.

That Tuesday wasn’t any different to the usual ones. He’d been in Enstone for the simulator that morning, coming back to pack before flying out to France on Wednesday morning. It was Renault’s home race, a big event. There was all the media to do and she knew how busy he would be. She kept working from her position in bed while she was waiting for Dan to finish packing.

It was stealing glances at the case, not wanting to follow it closely. She hated the image in front of her of the man she…no her brain wasn’t going there. The man she spent so much time with putting his clothes into the case to leave hurt in a way that she didn’t want to fully examine. It was temporary and she knew they were just friends, that Dan didn’t belong to her, but it hurt.

But it was still impossible to not look at him. The ridiculous British summer was cold but Dan was wearing a pair of leopard print boxer briefs while he shimmied around the room to a beat playing in his own head. It shouldn’t have been so good looking but all Em wanted to do was to ask him to go back to bed, covering him with kisses to give him something to remember her by while he was in France and Austria. But she didn’t. Instead she stayed staring at the calendar she was working on, trying to keep her mind away from him leaving. Dan was singing along to the Taylor Swift that she’d put on the speaker while she was working, an exaggerated country accent as he sang Our Song.

“Can I put this in the wash with the rest of the clothes?” Dan asked, pulling Em out from her distraction and making her look up at him again.

She thought it was adorable how Dan still asked every day if he could put his clothes in the washing machine with hers. He spent every night in London in her place instead of his, most of his clothes had migrated to her tiny closet, but after basically living with her since the season had started again he still asked. He was as respectful as he could be with the small space that they shared. Plus he always asked because she was the one who did laundry and most of the housework. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to do it - and she’d teased him after Grace told her the story of Dan asking about if he could wash clothes in a thunderstorm - but she was the one who was at home most of the time.

She didn’t mind washing their clothes together, but the problem was with what Dan wanted her to wash. Trying to explain that she didn’t want that particular shirt to be washed felt insane. It was the one that she had kept aside to sleep in while Dan was away. The light blue shirt was one of her favourites, oversized on Dan and her and soft from being well washed and worn. And it smelled like Dan, so she kept it aside so she could put it on when he left the next day to feel a little better.

“Oh? You really need to wash that one?” She tried to keep her voice together and stable, hiding that it felt like part of her emotional stability relied on an ancient billabong shirt.

“No? I mean if you don’t want to do it with your clothes I can just do it when I get back.” He looked confused and Em took a deep breath.

“What, no. No it’s not that. You know I never mind anything like that. It’s just…Ineedyoursmelltofallasleep and that one always smells like you.” Her eyes were glued to the keyboard in front of her, embarrassment floating through her body. It was ridiculous to admit it. She was a full grown woman, she’d never needed anyone by her side to be able to sleep. She’d fallen asleep better without Greg in bed than with him. But now here she needed an old T-shirt to have a good night’s sleep.

She waited for a comment from Dan about how he’d book a flight for her right then and she could come with him, or how she didn’t need to rely on it. Or a joke from him about it and the silence was killing her. But instead the playlist went to the next song and she heard rustling disturbing the previously soothing sound of raindrops falling onto the windows. But a couple of steps made her look up, Dan standing right beside her and taking her hand as he wore the exact shirt they’d talked about.

She didn’t need to be a genius or read minds to know exactly what he was doing, making sure that it would smell like him for a few days while he was gone. She bit her lip and smiled up at him.

“The it goes in the wash when I’m back, yeah?” Dan smiled down at her, leaning over to give her the briefest kiss and caress her cheek before he went back to finishing filling his suitcase.

[nice-bright-colors]

Saturday Night.

Currently thinking that it’s Sunday night, because I’m packing for air travel tomorrow.

So therefore…

Sunday morning is going to feel more like Monday morning. As we all know business travel on the weekends really fucks with your head.

Hence…

Monday morning is going to feel like Tuesday morning. Hopefully, we can dig a hole and place some concrete.

Now, follow me here…

Wednesday morning is going to feel like either Thursday or Friday morning because I’m flying back home.

Thursday will be fine because I’m getting a massage. Dammit, I deserve one.

Friday, I get to drop off my business taxes. Yuck. I’m foreseeing some day drinking after that.

Basically, this time next week, I’m either going to feel 9 ways to great, or 9 ways to all fucked up in the brain. Just to foreshadow my posting next week.

[allie-scstudyabroad]

'Twas the Night Before Study Abroad

Eeek! Tomorrow at 11:55 my first flight will be taking off. How crazy that it's finally time to go to Italy! It doesn't feel quite real yet, but I'm sure once I'm on that 8 hour flight I'll definitely feel it.

It is a bit scary knowing that I am going to be flying to Europe, an entire continent I have never been to. On top of that I literally do not know a single person in my program or really anyone in the country. Well I mean there's that one girl from 6th grade soccer in Florence, but I'm not sure if that really counts.

I have obviously been thinking about this experience a lot as it will literally become my life for the next four months. Since I am leaving in January as well, this semester is going to come with some resolutions. First off, I am excited to be back on a schedule and have some structure and things to do. It is hard for me to stay motivated and going when I am home for winter break, especially since this one was a bit longer than usual. Next, I had some rough patches with old friends last year and coming home I feel like I have grown apart from people who were past friends. Therefore, I really want to make some friends this semester and be open to meeting new people. I want to be authentic and make real bonds and memories with these people whom I will share a semester with like none other. I already know study abroad friends will be special because when else do you go live in Europe with a bunch of strangers! Third, I want to chose experiences. Study abroad is obviously an expensive time, but I hope to spend my money on great experiences and trying new things. Finally, I am going to work on loving myself and time with myself. I set up my class schedule so that I have no Monday classes and my Tuesdays start late (also no one has Fridays but that is university standards not me). I hope to use these free times to do things for myself that usually slip away when I am in America. I want to walk around the city every Monday morning and sit by myself sipping a latte and reading a book. I want to love those moments of being all alone that seem scary and like you're failing because you have no friends by realizing I am choosing this and enjoying my time and this is relaxing and not a reflection of if I have friends or not.

I have thought a lot about these personal goals that go beyond just my bucket list for sightseeing or budgeting. (trust me I have plenty of those though) Study abroad is a great time to experience life and really grow in ways that I will be able to take home as well.

So my suitcases are packed (mostly) and I have a travel day outfit picked out. These next four months are going to absolutely fly by. So while I am a bit scared and sad to leave, I am also hopeful and excited for what's to come. (I think positivity and being flexible will be key to this semester) Stay tuned for what's to come when I touch down in Rome on the 24th at 10am!!

[hbarrar]

Next Stop: Sahara Desert

It has been a quiet day at the villa.  Most of the women traveled home, to other destinations or went to the medina to shop.  I stayed at the villa - napped, went to the pool, spa and packed for our next adventure.  We leave for the desert tomorrow morning (Tuesday) - we stop at a kasbah for lunch and a guesthouse for sleep.  On Wednesday we will camel ride to our campsite for the night in the desert!  Thursday will be a long day driving back to Marrakesh and I fly out Friday afternoon.  The laptop is staying behind and we aren’t sure about cell service or electricity, so no updates from me for a few days!

[oruborusforever]

tuesday sep 3,2024

grateful for: BEING BSCK BOME IN CHCIAGOOOOOO BEIBG BSCK EITH MY ANGEL MY LOVE MY SWEET DWEET PUPPY, him making me dinner for when igor bsck, & packing bong & fucking my brains out & kissing all over and holding each the & smelling each other, playing games & even tho i missed my flight i was able to get the next one which wasn’t all that long of a wait & no charge, the beautiful greenery & flying…. my family, my home, my love, my life

[blueberrymistruster]

Loneliness

I try to consolidate with the idea of loneliness. It is my final week of university and all of my housemates have gone home; my parents are unable to collect me for another week. I am perfectly happy in my own company; I read, I watch TV, I go on walks, I play with my hamster, I tap through endless games of online sudoku. Writing it down on paper, it all seems awfully banal but I can’t help but wonder what else there is to do? Create something perhaps? Not everyone is a creator though, and, as I said, I am more than content with the small life I am living through my books.

I recently read Mitch Albom’s ‘Tuesdays with Morrie’ and I was drawn to the segment in which Morrie advises that you acknowledge a feeling, truly feel it, and then detach, stop wallowing in it and make room for all the other emotions. I suppose that it what I am doing here.

I feel lonely.

The house is quiet. Only one of my housemates remains, a girl who I have truly never had a real connection with. We lived together in first year, and again in my final year, but somehow something never quite clicked and even three years into knowing her, I find myself struggling to think of things to say to her which might lead to a conversation. I loved all the rest of my housemates – six others – and I realise that I don’t even feel guilt for not considering her as company. If anything, she is an obstruction, the flaw in my fantasy that I might live in this large house alone by choice.

I have a couple of friends and acquaintances I could see, and of course I call all my friends on a ceaseless rota, but I know it is not the lack of human contact which I miss, but the atmosphere of a house alive. Shouts up the stairs, constant overlap of music played on speakers and guitars, the smell of tuna pasta and curry and bacon being cooked simultaneously, feet thudding on the stairs while I try to work out who is heading up to the bathroom and if they will be long in the shower.

Perhaps it is not true loneliness I feel, but dread. When I go home, my parents and sister have their own lives. Here, our lives are intermingled; we are wrapped up in one another. I am understood here. So I suppose this silence is an introduction to the next few months of my life.

I plan to travel over Christmas: pack up my essentials into a backpack, fly to Indonesia for a month, then meeting my best friend in Sydney for a while, before I head off to explore the east coast on my own. Initially, the idea was borne of having nothing better to do. My post-grad options are essentially getting a 9-to-5 in some low-paying uninspirational job or travelling round the world. Which would you rather do?

As the idea has solidified in my head, (and the recently prescribed anti-depressants started to kick in), a genuine excitement has grown. I have spent happy hours flicking through Lonely Planet guides, reading travel blogs, watching Tiktoks of beautiful beaches and sunsets. I travelled through South-East Asia last summer with a few friends; it was one of the happiest periods of my life. At the very end, I went off on my own for a couple of weeks, mostly due to the fact that everyone else had prior commitments at home and I was reluctant to surrender the lifestyle of true freedom I had become accustomed to. I had met some amazing people while I was there and I was eager to taste solo travel for myself, so I picked Borneo at random and two days later, I was there. I had not considered that few backpackers of my age – or indeed, few backpackers in general – ventured to the Kinabatangan region, and while I experienced some of the most beautiful and eye-opening geography of the trip, I also experienced my first taste of real, blood-deep loneliness.

I find myself worrying that I won’t make connections while travelling, though I know that the very nature of solo-travel is about meeting people and living out perfect, fantastical friendships in paradise that end before they can sour.

I think about my backpack. Last summer, I never needed anything that I couldn’t carry on my shoulders, albeit with some backpain, but my room is cluttered with the colourful treasures of two years of living here, and I feel the weight of impending dread at boxing up my beautiful life here and leaving my bedroom as cold and empty as the rest of this silent house.

[annieintheaair]

Can't hit it out of the park but I'm still a home runner. I'm a blessed one, stressed one, a little bit depressed one but if I'm a mess, might as well be a hot one.

What a month! I know it's technically not over yet because we still have tomorrow but I'm going to go ahead and celebrate that I survived. Aside from the hours I lost due to cancelations, I finished out this month with 107.49 hours! Considering I was flying, at the most, 75 over the last year, that's over 32 hours more. I can't wait to see my paychecks now!

I'm honestly so proud of myself for somehow holding it all together this month, making it through the struggles, working my ass off, and yet still finding time to do things I enjoy and have fun with friends. May has really been a rough month at work due to weather issues that caused irregular operations and yes, there have been many times when I just wanted to rip my hair out and scream and cry, but somehow, with the help of my amazing coworkers, I'm still standing (and have all of my hair, haha).

I plan on attempting a similar schedule again next month, although I might not quite get as much since I'm taking a few days off for my nephew's 1st birthday and of course, giving myself some time off for my own (35th) birthday.

Anyway, here's the recap over the last few days:

Memorial Day was everything and nothing that I expected it to be. I had a slow morning at home, finished making sangria, and eventually headed over to Shinayde's house for a pool afternoon. I brought over my oversized peacock float for her pool and we drank sangria and hung out in the pool for a few hours.

I honestly don't know how it was decided but we ended up going to the Stockyards in Fort Worth. An old friend once told me on New Year's one year (I think I was like 12 years old, honestly) that how you spend that night is how you will spend the rest of the year. It was only appropriate that we ended up at the Basement Bar, drinking beers and dancing. Somehow, we decided that the night wasn't over yet and ventured to West 7th where we went to this cool bar called Dirty Laundry. I was all about having an espresso martini but then also tried some London drink (I can't remember the name). We had such a great time talking to other people and making friends with the bartender, Edwin.

Shinayde's husband, Brent, decided he would pick us up on his way home from work and then we ended up at another outdoor bar where they were having turtle races (very strange). When it was finally time to leave, Brent took us to Taco Bell since we were all suddenly really hungry.

By the time I got home, it was 3am. Lately, it seems like every time I go out with friends, I get home early in the morning. Sometimes I think maybe I'm a little unhinged these days but then I remember how much fun I'm having and how much happier I am lately. I really missed going out with friends and not really having a schedule but playing it by ear. When Friday rolls around each week, whether I'm working or just enjoying a night off, it's nice to know that I don't have to pack up my things and my dogs and drive over an hour to be gone for the weekend. I really love having all of my freedom back.

I set my alarm to get up at 8am on Tuesday morning and checked my phone. My sister was asking me how the weather was at my house. I had no idea what was going on so I ordered a smoothie and Advil on Uber Eats. My mom was flying in and her flight diverted to Oklahoma City (she ended up sitting there for about 5 hours!).

When I saw a bright flash of lightning through my bedroom and then heard a long, loud crash of thunder that made my dogs bark, I immediately felt bad about ordering Uber Eats. It was pouring hard outside and I just knew it was going to be a day mostly spent at home.

By the time my mom got to DFW and got on the train, it was nearly 4pm. I picked her up around 4:30pm and we went to Rodeo Goat for burgers since she was starving. I was bummed that I couldn't have a margarita with her since I was going to have to go to work.

We stopped at PopShelf on the way back to my house and then shortly after I ran out to fill my car with gas, my flight was canceled. My mom and I settled in for the night with wine and a new TV show but I fell asleep on my couch since I was exhausted.

Wednesday morning I got up and drove my mom to my sister's house by 10:30am. We took my nieces to the pool for a couple of hours and then I went home to nap and prepare for work. I ended up working a delayed flight to Little Rock last night and they changed our gate so many times that I was ready to ask for an electric cart (kidding). I was so tired of running all over the airport. Luckily I was with my friend, Debbie, which made it so much better.

We were only slightly delayed getting back this morning. Debbie treated us to Starbucks since we only had a little two-hour nap at the hotel. Of course, I came home from work, worked my second job for a bit, and then passed out on my couch.

More storms rolled in today and after tracking my plane and pilots all day, our flight was delayed an hour. While I was on the phone praying for crew scheduling to pick up and change my sign-in, the flight was canceled. Honestly, it was a huge relief, and since it's the end of the month we at least are pay-protected.

I'm glad to get to enjoy a night at home now with my dogs. The storm seems to be over but the roads got pretty flooded today so it's nice to not have to drive. I ended up having to cancel everything tomorrow -- my car service appointment and my chiropractor appointment. This is all to be expected, unfortunately, when you work for an airline. You literally can never make plans.

I'm supposed to go to putt-putt tomorrow night with my church friends and the weather isn't looking great again so we may need to postpone it, unfortunately. Part of me is bummed about that but part of me is also kind of enjoying not having to drive over an hour every week. We'll see what happens!

Aside from the weather, this weekend should be pretty chill. My mom has been at my sister's house since yesterday but will come back to my house either tomorrow night or Saturday morning and I made reservations to go to dinner Saturday night. I go back to work on Sunday night so I'm really hoping the weather clears up by then.

This week, especially, has felt like my airline is having a complete meltdown. Everyone is just losing their minds as the whole operation has fallen apart from the weather issues. When it feels like we're starting to recover, another storm rolls in and knocks everything down again. It's literally the meme of the dumpster fire saying, "I'm fine. We're fine. Everything's fine." We are barely holding it together over here!

Hopefully, June ends up being a much better, calmer month!

Cheers!

xoxo

Annie

[spellucci]

Ready, Set, GO!

Saturday to Thursday, February 24 to 29, 2024

It's cleaning time!

Millie has been used as a cargo vehicle and a storage container since December. She's a mess. We spend the weekend before we head for Florida cleaning her from top to bottom.

First, find a home for all the Operation ELF bags we had collected last year. Next sweep, vacuum and mop. Why look, there's a floor under all that dirt! Then move all the storage cabinets back into their appointed locations with new, lighter weight and to easier to thread cargo straps. The front windshield had a year of grime built up on it. Away it goes. And more and more. We figure our mileage will be much improved due to the removal of all the dirt.

Tim repairs rusty hinges and frayed wheel covers. Our spare tire cover says “Not all who wander are lost”. It had been shredded crossing Kansas in hurricane-speed winds on our way to watch the eclipse last fall.

Finally it's departure day. Normally it takes us two hours to do the final packing to leave the house the morning before a big trip. This time it took us only one hour due to the two days of intense prep work we had done. Tim asks Jeanne if she thought we could have cut our leave time down to 5 minutes by doing two more days of intense packing. She gives him the look. Yes, that look.

Our first stop is a a two-day visit at Jeanne's mom's on Cape Cod. Jeanne's sister's Honda Civic is at their mom's house. She hurt her leg skiing last month, and had to fly home to Florida, leaving her car behind. We will be returning the car to her in Florida, and then take 2 weeks to enjoy the warm. Jeanne will drive Millie, and Tim will drive the Civic.

THURSDAY

The Civic is an older model with no Bluetooth. A neighbor kindly loans us an aux cable so Tim can listen to his podcasts on the way south. At 9:00 am on Thursday, we set the GPS for Jacksonville and push off. (Lots of originally nautical terms have crept into common parlance. Push off refers to pushing a boat away from the dock in preparation for getting under way. Pull up to the curb originally came from pulling, or rowing, up to a dock. There's more where that came from.)

Tim looks up the launch schedule for the week of our arrival. There's the launch of SpaceX Dragon Crew-8 of four astronauts to the International Space Station at 11:50 pm Friday, but we won't get to Florida until Saturday, so that's out. There's also a SpaceX Starlink launch at 6:45 pm on Tuesday. If the weather cooperates, we should be able to make that. Jeanne's sister informs us that they are expecting heavy rain.

Driving days are normally social affairs. Tim drives the morning, while Jeanne plans the day, and Jeanne drives the afternoon, while Tim mans the music playlist. As interesting topics arise, the person in the passenger seat does web searches, answers questions, and asks more. This trip is different. We are both driving. We use the cell phones as walkie-talkies to stay connected, but navigating and driving is a strain. Nevertheless, we make good time, stopping for walks and lunch, and finally at the Cracker Barrel in Bel Air, MD for the night.

[spaciousreasoning]

Progress, Not Perfection

Picked up the completed tax package last Thursday. The $50 rebate from the state of Arizona arrived in my bank account yesterday. The $35 from the feds is likely on the way as well. Even less total money than the bill to have our taxes done, which included a fee for posting a form to the state of Virginia for a piece of the estate from my parents. Luckily that did not result in owing anything either, as inheritance is not taxed by Virginia. As little as the return was, it's better than having to pay out.

We also said goodbye yesterday to Nancy's piano, a Yamaha upright that she's owned for more than thirty years. She spent some time playing it in the morning, then the movers picked it up in the afternoon. There was a little bit of weeping on her behalf, but we decided the instrument was too much to take with us on our move to Oregon. There isn't enough room in the new place for a full-sized piano, but Nancy has already been scoping out some electronic keyboards so she can keep her fingers nimble.

The siblings fly in today from Norfolk and Chicago, and we'll spend the next six days enjoying ourselves with sightseeing and eating. Not much more preparation for the move will take place until they depart next Tuesday. At which point we meet with the realtor to begin the process of putting this place on the market. Another unit in our neighborhood has sold in the past week, so we're feeling positive about the prospects of selling, even though we're not feeling particularly comfortable with having the place ready for viewing by the public. It seems problematic to sell a home we're still living in.

We've made decent progress, though, packing things up, giving them away, or throwing them out. At a meeting on Sunday night, I compared this to working the Fourth Step. That seems apt, given the Facebook post I recently uncovered from June 15, 2016, when I was moving in with Nancy: "The deeper I dig into the wreckage of my past (i.e., cleaning out the old place), the more my eyes are opened to the thoughtless collection of so many bits and pieces of meaningless detritus, and to the lack of a concerted effort to catalog those things that are important and do have meaning. Sleepwalking, I have been. Awake, I am becoming." The sleepwalking evidently continued despite my brief awakening.

[thetoxicgamer]

American CS:GO squads line up for elimination following brutal IEM Dallas opening day

On May 29, the first day of IEM Dallas 2023 came to an end, with every last American CS:GO roster vying for survival. Unfortunately, only FURIA and 9z won their lower bracket matchups, leaving the struggling region just hanging on to their tournament life. Nouns Esports was the first squad sent packing following swift losses to G2 and FURIA, while one of the five American teams left is destined to leave Dallas empty-handed in their next best-of-three with Evil Geniuses and Complexity meeting in the Group B lower bracket eliminator. As for the rest of the ‘home’ rosters, 9z, Liquid, and FURIA all stare down the barrel of early exits while they prepare for their next match-ups. It’s safe to say it’s not looking good for the region at Dallas. The Evil Geniuses versus Complexity best-of-three launches us into the Americas elimination extravaganza on May 30, with the loser placed 13-16th alongside Nouns and Fnatic. Evil Geniuses came close to avoiding a fall into the lower bracket at all, going down against FaZe Clan in overtime in what would have otherwise been an upset for the ages. Complexity, however, was a different story. Already on the backfoot following visa issues affecting star AWPer Hallzerk, the squad struggled against ENCE despite solid individual performances from floppy and stand-in Sonic. Despite easily brushing aside Nouns, FURIA’s Dallas campaign remains on a knife’s edge ahead of a much tougher second-round opponent in MOUZ. From here on out, it’s win or go home for the Brazilian squad, who will likely head to the player break after the tournament wraps. 9z could also potentially suffer the same fate as FURIA despite managing to push past a stand-in affected Fnatic to book their next match against OG. The South American squad survived a resurgence from Fnatic, who will now fly home just a day or two after arriving for the tournament. North American sweethearts Team Liquid is set to tackle the rag-tag Grayhound lineup in elimination in what is captain nitr0’s final CS:GO tournament with the squad. Liquid will be eager to give their veteran in-game leader the send-off he deserves, but there are no more second chances for the team following a 17-19 overtime loss against historic rivals Astralis. IEM Dallas returns at 11am CT on Tuesday, May 30 with the North American derby between EG and Complexity kicking off a bumper day of eliminations—after which just one or two American squads may remain alive. Read the full article

[umichenginabroad]

Parents Weekend in Nice

Hello everyone! This was another jam-packed week. 

My parents visited this past week/weekend, and so the majority of my earlier days were spent preparing. This means that I was doing a lot of school work so I wouldn't have to play catch-up on the work that I missed while they were here. I had a lot of chai-tea lattes, and was able to get a good amount of work done!

They ended up arriving in Madrid Friday morning, and it was so exciting to see them! I went to my class that morning and then met them at my apartment. We were flying out Saturday morning to France so we decided to have a relaxing Friday. We went to a plaza near my apartment and had some drinks while catching up. We then visited Gran Via and Plaza de Mayor, ending our night with some delicious tapas!

Saturday morning we were up early and heading to the airport. We flew into Nice, France, where we would be staying until Tuesday! We ended up picking the perfect weekend to visit, as the weather was around 70℉ the whole time we were there, which is warmer than the average temps at this time of year. Our first two days were spent exploring Nice. Here are some of the highlights:

Morning Flower / Farmer’s Market 

Castle Hill (beautiful outlook area)

Walking the Promenade des Anglais

Old Town Nice

The next day we had a day trip to Monaco, with a stop in a little village called Eze in between. Eze was absolutely GORGEOUS, and by far the most beautiful place I have visited yet. The village is about halfway in between Nice and Monaco, and located on the top of a mountain. We wandered through its old cobblestone streets up to the top where they have botanical gardens and viewpoints. The gardens were amazing, and the view of the mediterranean and the town below cannot be beat. We also found a bunch of small local french artisans and stores there, where we picked up several souvenirs. 

We then went on to Monaco, where we visited the gardens, the palace, and of course, the Monte-Carlo Casino. We also grabbed lunch from a local food market. We then took the train back to Nice, and decided to have a nice dinner before we flew back to Madrid the next morning. We went to a local restaurant called La Cucina, which was super small with only 7 tables. The food was incredible, and also was super pretty! It was one of the best meals I have had while abroad so far. 

We flew home Tuesday morning, grabbed lunch when we got back and then I had class until late that night. I had an exam on Wednesday, so I spent the majority of that day studying, but I  grabbed breakfast with my parents in the morning and then also got dinner together afterwards. 

It was another hectic week, but I’m excited to continue spending some time with my parents before they leave, and I’m really excited for my trip this weekend! I’ll let you know how it goes next week :)

Abbey Almeda

Industrial and Operations Engineering

UP Comillas

[riverrunpasteveandadams]

(itty bitties thickiodai all a willy wonker could fixate upon

or fuck with or over-deliberate mixes on mixes

glistening kiss wasted time fixes at face value

all under and no rutger delineated richer)

weather pack of marlboro 100’s would materialize

outta of thin air or we just happened upon a gang

of sisters going our way with just enough room for the lot

burbon boon docks out there in the emerald dixies fixities

 bonnie & laud whos father was working

wistfully willy with the police k-nine duckdog coppers

robbers too they were

even shaking the bullbury whistlers down

for the smallest nickle of the smallest

bowlpack this side of st.strawberrys

forever wine wis-constainteeming with time

the lost blue barrel-rolls & owsley’s two timings

that we saw back there on vanderbelt & whistley

 phantoms in the street flickering light posts

at witching hour once again

osolate accordion gideons copy

in the drawer at the motel six

to which we find ourselves amist

with comradery libation

mixes in with ginger speckled spots of opal rovers

royalties steely as they were bronzen

breezen with the look of a holy man

that hasnt slept in days with cheerful spritzer

up to not sleep again tonight

are you willing doctor?

(15)

 not much on the tele

sitting quietly smoking in the deli

last of the coffee

last nickel on the paper

only option now is to wait for the check to clear next tuesday

to the slow dissonant hum

of one lonely saxophone in an alley a couple blocks away

down by the liquor store

when i lived on vanderbelt

the man inside used to sell laced tobacco cigarettes

his iranian family owned that store for generations

& in the basement they would always keep

a small table for the hasiche smokers

as well as the card players

and way in the back

a little broom-closet for the working girls

 seasonal caricatures

where is your one room hideaway

your cigarette paradise

where is your thinly veiled chamber

the veneer of shallow lighting

slowly peeling away at the unforgiving day

pleasing the night walks come

still in star-twinkling amnesia like qualities

wandering circles around the corridor

unseen flashing phosphorus crawling in the courtyard

playing with forces and fae by sigil

then candle-light

& smoking mirror

(2)

 every pixel transfigured

enigmafied friend

E.T. phone home, do you read me

E.T. completely

infixtured by the night seascrolls

temporarily transported by

the fixtures of light

 illuminated in every way

perhaps transfigured

at satiation trainyards

yonder birdlike

secret stations

 lord i remember

easy though peezy perhaps

corrosive catering to the trivial

needs & laments of the zeitgeist

rolling thunder as they

were participating in

a protection rite with fire

 testing testing one two three

said the operator on speed

here we go again

said the otter to the left

storm cloud tracers

tracy chapman on transistor radios

in the drivers seat on the freeway

back from south jersey

subway skylines

subletting subcities

 hiccups from the anonymous hippopotamus

printed and pampered on postage

marked friend of the devil

return to sender

suddenly from stage left

the bender on 8th street

 thats a wrap boys- cut

or so says the cabbie

dont listen to him

hes on amyls with a bad heart

spooks from the flop house

all haunt inn

(21)

 the house on fire

whisper echoing

green books on green books

can you still believe its all for

green books and good acid

imported cargo

 imp imported cargo

starting south

we begin in houston

ending in the mighty

congo river man

a half dozen arabian nights

 now we begin the other way back

through caldonia manifolds tanquerayian

blocks and blocks of uninterupted garments

leather satchels containing el supremo

chickens feet for good luck

potions galore tiny inlet dwellings

candleside riddlers

nuancers necromancers

the layaway clairvoyant

bins of fish

every sort of fly ointment imaginable

caskets of dreams

cuban breezes chartreused and succumbed

to the tangier unmitigated lining

 however riddled with folly

be it may

handing in stained yellow papers

to a circus in juan paris

stopping by to see johnny paria

at a small roadside attraction inlet

quickly as cowboy coffee induced mayhem midways

& chickens running around with

their heads chopped off

(26)

 salmon glue

one of them shouted

a blessing in yiddish

that girl is poison poising itself

on the radio dial

 just as we pull up to Tom’s diner

one cigarette for each of us

back at the remote outpost there in the desert

the camel back importers cargo carriers

were bringing a ton of red lebanese hashish

from a trade town just north of the border

we awaited them with mint tea that steeped

deep into the night

 as well as

a gang of belly-dancers who’d been

flown in the night before

specifically for this occasion

the arrival of the red leb

patagonia

one of them exclaims

 that was my dream lastnight of patagonia

tumbled down shack in big-foots it was

reading five verses of amazonian soplar literature

& suddenly it all flowed back

images of seraphim & sirena approaching

images of some of them muddy

others all dressed well in clean white clothing

 down there the fixation then was moonshine

so every friday afternoon we would gather

preferably no less then a dozen of us

& drive out to houston paying twelve a cap

& with that we could haul enough back

to supply the entire county for a week

we did that every weekend for a decade

then reagan got elected and that was that

imported sugar cane or cherry flavored pop

was the only game in town

 so the soliders surged on til dawn

when by bask morning-light through

velvet shade they did receive the call they

had been waiting for all this time

on a pink tele- it was louise

they were down at the terminal in westport

approximately 40 minutes by auto-bus

from our remote outpost somewhere in the dunes

between the frontier & egypts southern most point

in the babeloid region, also known as Valdez*

hectares beyond the thresholds of our jurisdiction

thus we were forced to rush in by stealth

(3)

 REAL PEOPLE

TRUE STORIES

UNADULTERATED INSCRIPTION

reads the foney tabloid with

a crude pictograffiti of george bush

giving a rub and tug to a martian

on the white house lawn

 hey now all good things in all good time

he said sardonically lighting up a spliff and passing

to the left

right in the time net before the scheduled entry

into the trading panel

we had used up mostly all of our uppers on hand

during the brief but intense flash with the pirates

at new guinea

 all the variants of drug addled crux dividers walked through

these ports at at some ragged wretched time or another

however twisted or undistinguished from the periphery

slimey toadstools & the barways walked through by tangeria

hotel babblers, mind mice and the seething soup seekers

of muck and littered propheticus

 casitas burden the bourbon-bury mind sippers

like the ghosts of amulet bearing pirates

looking lately into obsidian sunglass mirrors

& the cheers-mates divides found in friar field vietnam

sinking ships & brand new quicksilver salamanders

who poisoned themselves back into

the clotted timestream by

hookwink & soft-pond tactics alone

 the souls of lost sailors &  dead shaman

sandbank dealers & a new orleans maiden-like hierarchy

holy-week brandish of sacred markers &

makers of witchcraft devised by KFC confessionals

with long-lines & tokes of datura in the middle-school-lunch

cafeteria waiting line lego rooms

filled with outrageous

arabic geometry signature

in their natures seething like

broken spanish entities

in subliminal outake

(5)

 an outline of hegemony

here in the world as it were

or was back there in the hotel rooms

at san luis cooped up on speed

who was looking out the window

and through the bubble-gummer

or cowboy boot wearer

what have you

 but you know

suddenly i felt the sudden urge

to articulate the experience

and thus here we are

gathered around a window

sunshining freshlhy

albiet were  all smoking

and talking over one another

how exciting caffeine tends to the nerves

to the ninth degree until second hour

 if i wasnt in my right mind

i might say we have a gracyth lace

of the old go fast in there somewhere no?

a tar spirit wedged beneath the tandem spirits

so tender & wavingly at lengthful & grateful

 transmigration of a phoenix

involved in certain spiritual states

including psychosis

we decided it was better to disguise

the acid casualties as clowns

to better move them discreetly from

our distant quarters in the non local sanctuaries

of psychotomimetic antiquity vis-a-vis

the grizzled backbury peyote deserts

of the mid classical maya

 until recently this was somewhat

of a simple procedure

new blockades were placed at powerspots

encrypted punto tecalotes guarding all

of our most trusted cardinal points

and thus we hired the specialist

el coyote

 the modality was as factual as

we could possibly write in

to the bloody script to begin with

gesturing towards the ticket booth

blargzeebubbed both whispering so quiet and free

buzzed of delineated cheap coffee echoing

the ugly whims of burroughs vis a vis

the tangier hashish jelly saga

 we made sure to dial in our woes

to the receptor cite

no matter how many times we hit

the croacher as as hard as we possibly could

for days on end unrelenting the charge hold

give it another minute or integer

shell load in undoubtful

smacked the lips of the tender

still sipping on hiccups and barbury fumbling

with banknotes and letters of a long exiled

main street

(24)

 loud typewriters clicks designs

im sitting there at toms diner, go figure

the lightning aint so bad after-all

cuppa joe & a side of toast

thanks betty stelmer

we went to high-school together

back in those days

 sandstone slippers & a lovely young lady

named sandy preference whisky bourbon rye

so we took our chances in a cadillac

and headed towards tangier way

hashish castles there

so says the latter

black velvet in its entirety

the whole ways home

 somewhere in that hotel lobby

smokey as it was blessed

someone complained about the speed jitters

over-sensitized now cant concentrate he complained

whole lobby sweeps silence

a pin drops

stopping for gas they go ahead

& pickup a hitcher

calls himself phantom 309

fits in with our troop just fine

 someone call sampson

somebody shouted

from a half a block over

weve got ourselves a real

space-case over here, okay?

(10)

 it started as a simple food and whiskey mission

and water too, but we’d forgotten

and soon after would have to double back

but no matter & nobody minded

it was a clear blue sky desert in surround

like the truman show or beetlejuice

we didnt question the script & ended up rolling

with the punches all the way back

to the tellers quarters

riffing off the midlife crisises of the

common-folk

fumbling with pennies & lint-like pocket minutea

pack of zigzags invokes laughter

& then the sound of choppers

war get to the chopper

claus hurry quick get to za choppa

the valley was clear and empty

there we’re people out there though

hiding in the daytime like coyotes

or used car martian lizard salesmen

from dallas

(1)

 a private room &

the return to san luis

dreams of blown out station-wagons

on the outskirts of vegas

a jalapeno violin singing us

turpentine blues on a backbury bust

a bus inching towards the edge of frisco

 someone asked him for a quarter

digging in pocket past

the lint and detritus

showing them off invoking them

back around he said

here ya go kid ya got a match?

 they called him  the contrarian

like a wino centaur

like a matchbox forgotten in an

old pair of crusty levis

like elvis’s outdated bottle

of port from michigan marked 1863

we didnt care and popped it open anyhow

 one of us decided to take that

88’ oldsmobile down to the drugstore

for a box of vicks inhalers

we snatched up the last one lucky

took out the cotton

& threw it in the fire

 blacktop singers

they snap their fingers

to the twinkling

of fallen starts

someone is playing the harp

down there on vine street

in the passengers seat of an oldsmobile

i think of her name was eighty-eight

i think someone stole the

freight-train liner

took it past smugglers cove

the only place they know we’ll never go

(23)

 the band was hot so we danced

the famous merengue

then we darted back

now we fade to black

 the was the sean shem

brother rivalry all over again

after not speaking for months

after christmas disaster

the mask of hallucinatory worry

and need not to worry

 i know how these type of sharks work

and within the fortnight daggers daggard

their way through message totemologies

but lucky for us brushed with sunspots

in legacy power nigredos

sipping stiffly on walkabout cathedrals

 and this was known so it as shown

in blows below the gut

the best we can do is an honest mockery

shipping into harbors wherein the lively

about couldnt come or refused to

or took methmolly for seven days

and turned green                              X

 turned off text messages

blocking all archonic disruptions

influctions of geltab jelousies & romances

left back in durango shipping containers

with rapturous ecstasy we knew in our

hurting hearts the compost of

secret legacy lovers and runners

who long distantly woke up like mondo mike

fucking in pools of goats blood at tampa bay

or tagging hater in the first circle k

when you landed in vegas

 neon scintilla crap tables abound

first wash was out there at baker

with the green magnet magnesium magnetism

lettered and walked in its way

foretold in sunspot illustration

all vectored solemnly&stiffly taken at face value

unable to domino sphincter cheers californian

her sandmarkers and miles of desert as feverish vision

bequeath riggamarole jerijuana stamp postages

lettering and lockinglitter bitter spitter offers

blotters left in antiquity blessedbe

 then gets up to change the cantar

only to forget our placement in

the dreamery reading

or doubt what the hell river it was

that us or quetzalcoatl come here

to speak into existence

in the very first place

 cigar breaks & walks around the savanna

layline boundaryside whisping up

memorium of the very first traversals

or the new yorkers dark night

we came here to amnesiate

(25)

 it was spring & willy nilly was working with the yacuruna again

it was holy meat week & they required a sacrifice

either swine or foul

one in the same willy thought to himself

cutting off the end of a cigarette & handing it to the priest of the clan

this tradition has long run in the family for generation after generation

he muttered twistedly half smiling

& caressing his tiny precious portion of tobacco

all of the family’s priests & priestesses chanting

the ancient hymn

whoo amei damei yaa

taking turning flipping the dial on the radio

it was the only song that was broadcast for a thousand miles

& they played it on repeat until the morning light

every morning for forty days and forty nights

some of us tone deaf after some nights

not minding whatsoever and eventually

finding the ability to fall into trance

during the deep night psalms

 flashbacks to burgers and fries

back there down in the city

the timestreams fanciful dishes

hashish from lebanon abound

martian radio stations dishing out info on

omlette russian-routlettes

taking it all in

willy at once in a buzzing storm

of confusion and confections of the city

wearing away at the teeth

gum-like bedbugs crawling at the skin of

various informants residences

with drugs hidden in baby formula

as the perfect disguise

and a cover up for the vicious gnawing craving for

possesions in pulsating-powders & arms

the screaming wheel of dervish

buzzing religious conviction both

within & exterior to the hypnagogic trances

of dreamlike phanthasma-phenomena

of its constant consumers

 building silently

wave after wave of amnesiate understanding

plunders the mind crawling the coils &

a way out of existential invalid litter departments

put on hooks for hoots

& heavy ingestions put towards rethinking

cadavers in caravans

 steeping mint tea excursions into the savanna

darkly scanning the midnight horizonal

hallucinatory ambidextrousness

looking into the aether for elephants who

possessed societies secret but learned to live outside

of it they were our masters and to them we would wildly

approach in prayer

veiled by secret integers & invisibility serums

slowly sipping in the cabana, awoken by wind

& the drifting siren of ancient chime and whirling dervish

immensities lost in the bubbling muck of disoriented history

(6)

 the lady with the fan

she cools us

lady in the catacombs

zombie siren of kennedys spark

destruction is another form of creation

the immitigate uttered from

the gutteral depths of 57th st

shem dynasties aside

 marijuanos on the hillside

god forbid its saints week

we settled up and gathered up

our rationed portions & put them

on the table out front

for everyone to see

five dollars a hit

 okay so over a beer

we went there

not to say i feel exactly better

but real indeed alive

indeed refreshed to a degree

 boo who

a damaged weakling defends itself

3 weeks after the fact

big whoop big whopper

the brother rivalry

an unmatched dynamic

(16)

 asphyxiated on dandelion wine

oh mary oh jesus where do i even begin?

sun setting on an empire is that it?

 speaking of instincts

the devils weak

beautiful express faces pass

in all the taxis of the world

back home cascadas, sleeping lamp giants

waiting in the precipice

 its just a little ways she assured the others

whilst taking a giant ripper off the

pcp packaged spliff

how strange the scintilla

she barked before cutting

all her ties, quickly skipping town

& heading for the hills

back toward kensington ways

 the midst, sand salamanders joking

in the juxtaposition of the roses

faced down and looking lightly through

the window cupboard shade covered veiling

the scintilla awaiting winter kingbury

whos bringing acid whos bringing crumpets

to a maddened tea party in the bushes

sparsely spacing out illiterate tantrums

from dross matter heiroglyphic opinions of our starbound selves

cardinal signal around & bounded to temporal fixies

immensities

heriphanies

lipid

 a from riches to rags backstory

the boston ragga

dodging bullets left and right at infinitum

clever fox of the backbury

show your scales

reveal reveal reveal i say

set in holland 1945

ringing any bells yet?

what about saved by the bell? or frasier

or fran to tell us danger dances

apart from the static

 there was the overplayed music

downgraded the bandwidth

of what just it was we couldnt say yet

we just had take a hint

then wait the usual 40 minutes for entrance

(19)

 *

 lets restart

friendly aesthetic near

the hillside depot

as they approach the trainyard hyponogogic

it is more then a hallucination

 antiquity

oh my- broken good

who’s expertise?

todo todo bien

todo bien

it was the best we c u in asia

when i come you need

yes it could be okay

 Lee RIbbenii

what- great environment

great

la grazia delle parole

yes indeed

yes indeed-

there we go

lets head south baby

(20)

 they were cranking out pure kilos of grade A

japanese chach at per kilo pennies on the dollar

there was only one person mr.pink & me knew who

knew what to do with those kinda numbers

unfortunately he was taken out earlier

that december during an incident with the

cartels in a case of mistaken identity

up in reno

 so we were then forced to move west

where folk we once considered kingpins

back home that is in vermont

had somehow blended had acquiesced here

like camouflage breaded butter                X

 fantasy island saloon,

platoons of vigor & servitude

all counted specially & coiled smooth

moves bequeath basket-cased

as it was nior’d

honored and learned nightly by sams steaks

taken up for some and down

for tuesday shmoosday others

 rutgers, gushers, marx brothers

& exploding symbols heald

& inevolving within timberside seances

pixie as they were midnight

rose-garden fauna egyptian’d

(13)

Bagwhan shree rajneesh, one of nuns begins to blurt out-

nearly stuttering and other troublesome utterances

A seizure of tounges,

“The Bagwaan she went on,

bagwhaan shree! rajneesh, rajneeshy”

we let her go like this for around 40 minutes

before finally, at our wits end with zero alternatives left

we were forced to tied her up & at

4:30 AM eastern state time Sister Anne

of the Lutheran Church of Nazarene

was given a 500 MG shot of thorazine

directly into her jugular,

unconscious in seconds &

by the time she around rose shortly after

her condition returned to safely back to base-line

( we agreed to keep an eye on her during the

the table session’s with special attention

directed toward not allowing her to drink anymore

then a single cup of daime at a time )

 it’s 10 AM on a friday,

new orleans shoppe window open,

a perfumery with side deals,

magic deals,

literal charms for sale as well as jasmine-

smoking in a bed, in a shed,

in a chevy chase canary paced place

some of us are melting in our own juices

who-hooo do you trust? blaring incessantly on the transistor

sitar, overpowering by the psilocybin-

 Callet trailed, endless masks made by the scoupel-

written in dragons blood over the doorway

unwritten invisible coffee dates with

phantoms of english antiquity

 Australian kangaroo salesmen,

ounces of bolivian marching powder sealed in a locked vessel

headed from panama across the atlantic on a three day journey

2 hostages, one illuminated port

in the dusty backbeat sagas of westports most infamous

& terrible dragstrip

officials crooked for hire, sidewalks in the customs office

we turned our heads to the Gods

a window opened from a black and yellow lit

parlor of the redlight indistinguishment sectors,

just a mile away from our stated destination

at the transatlantic sea-station

positioned in an outpost just north of the border,

we needed to make it past this kurdish checkpoint

before the dawn does-

(4)

 these little town blues

these vagabond shoes

calling clown-like ambulances

leaving 17th & 57th

headed towards geronimo blvd

with broken arrow phone calls

glasses of water rusty spoons & Busch

delivery with deliverance

we had to pick up scooter from the lot first

before we caught the itching fix in the gyre

catcher in the ryer

 like forever pushing totemic inches

past the blood-brain barrier

down there on 57th where the riversrun

with sludge veins full of muck

mindless scrolling machines allegedly

seen dishing out euphoria by the dozen-fold

so say our critics whos sweet sickness

is an itchy glaze of bologna for 50 cents a pop

all the way down to the houston-river

 would we ever make it past

the black growling threshold guardians

of the ciudad or else find ourselves

lying before dumpsters worshipping

the dieties of alleyway

& sky fixture fractions

alike us on our run to score

the perfected effervescent illumination sagas

just west of hollywood

 and the geronimo blvd highway makers

who marked a thousand lanes

to the left hand sight

a thousand to the right out of sight

a wad of hash for your time perfectedly churned

& paired with yelping cupful portions of

californian divinatory serums

seances bad sneakers and singers

albeit sneaking suspicions of hefty cuts

of the baby laxatives

 within and around the chartreuse variants

of amyl & trimethylated leisure like

substantial inheritances

nuances shiver me timber tumblefuls

whopping past portions mailed from arkansas

to our doorsteps just in time before

the jiminy cricket-like creatures spring fourth

singing a dop-op

whos gonna carry me home?

aint got sense enough to leave that burbon alone

(11)

 mixing medley in the middle with moon-light

shakey ground says the batter bear better then burroughs

into the psalmful leavings of arclights unknown

past the platoon stickers,

beyond the trash fences of romantic antiquity

the steam-files bull on and breed

betting 50 on a saulsbury steak

or some sort of chicken cutlet in the runner

left on revenge repeat

 we sung ourselves a little song

& then backed away

packing everything neatly in the caravan mirage

in the shade or else taken back by

the ever present hallucinogenic hum

be it frog-juice or pellets

of jacksons best designer brand speed

easy now said the one with the ring

& two left facing shoes

 now we dont want to get all carried away okay

but if we just splice out some sort of

small-time portion of the crumbcake

or perhaps make a brew with teatime feathers

oh the trusty teatime feathers

gets the whole gang of em up and atom

when the afternoon sun looms near the horizon

screw it day time or night

whenever she visits its a grand occasion

 upwards towards the transmigrational highway

one of them belched

passing the tonic towards his left

picking something up in the periphery

something harbored like jasmine rice

something entangled like

rustys old tape recorder

-we would take it out to los angeles

& sitting by the river all the time

waiting for betty to get off work

 then we could come home & show her

with rockabye sweet baby james on

& haight ashbury hashish jelly

of course she assumed

as she always does when we are in those states

trancelike as they were amoeboid

that this was a

perhaps the tangier go away

that would turn itself invisible like the rocks

the moment we arrived into town

 shoreside was always the same with

these gingerbread mayhem invested thunderbirders

running around like headless cockatoos

except only this time

they decided to wear dress shoes

 back at base they were preparing

for the mumification of who they could

not name in the telegram

none the less we decided to go with our mission

further into the frontier

of white speckled satiations

of unruly divide & conquering

all carefully making sure to

load our canteens to the brim with rum

before catching the ferry over

(12)

 turning the gyre ever softer towards

the ridge of aeonic millennia

we gasped at blooming artificiality paradises

instantly upon time-stream arrival indextures

tens of thousands of miles streaming stratospheric

in the butte of a moments quickening

storming us by quicksilver secondaries

 the hands of history,

fighting for informational eternity

brask, right up to the gullet in gears

fashioning the work-place

landmarked by leisure

still probing the market for the machina

still glittering down the line totemic

 concession stands for the archbishop

at the island for eels

we couldnt believe

that they burnted themselves out so quickly

we all gathering our belongings

proceeded to high tail it

all the way down the line

either oklahomian or mexicana

 hows the wife & kids

we meet everyday at the strange cafe

we meet at the strange cafe-time burial

burial time typewriter

typewritten in special membrane

the brain remembers its own name cleary

its wits vastly dialectic & innumerable

 keeps encapsulated satiated

heaped on there- gnawingly

senile, almost tumeric distanced

bequeathed beneath the rosebury

sampling simple traces

environs & aardvarks alike

squeaky and tender as the bishop promised

going gargantuately into the gauntlet of life

 lamenting over harms done

presuffixed and over time eventually delineated

to the slime like it was carnal

lime-light of west hollywood

with its fits and fashions phoenixed

egyptian magicd like the

chest cupboard kept in the hills

 working on tantrums

tidal waves of them raving hysterical

maddened as dawn, streaky pink-eye horizonal

at colt-45 walkers in tango with disco-coppers

hot on the beat and hopped up on a thursday

for almost no real reason at all

as cept to scope, callin themselves the law

vigilante justice my ass

(8)

 glamour professionals

by the rivers of babylon, its venice beach baby

writing scripts on napkins in indian ink,

kitchen sink showers (first memories of bathtime)

astoria, a hiccup in the rutter-

via confession by cinema side trails

 sipping mango juice under polaris,

are we mister potter?

the imp confessional of antiquity

snicker from the right corner

flying anvils, galaxies of amnyls,

nitrates, glycerides

marketing techniques via tangier

& west congo conch fritter

 picking up after dark

theres a fire inside the wind of the mind,

come walk with me alone, it says

now the whole gang of hyperdimensional

cast members gather tightly, close quarters

& hearing upon what has happend

to the old mans leg, he vowed

never to ride a caballo again in this lifetime

or atleast what he spoke before sweet drink

made its way around the table at

the great hall of duke

 the cinco minuto exspresso

talking political jargon

supposedly a mexican composition

done from los angeles telepathically

who could say? we had noone on hand

to verify personally, so we took

their word for it and proceeded

to donate the requested $6000 USD

needed for the bond

 after growing up

the only way they knew peace

was to return to the chaos

of upbringing circumstance

via bus-station or jukebox circlings

where’s the kid with the chemicals

an entourage of questionable characters

could they be in cahoots with the coca-chewers?

 nightingdale

a cross examination

octopi-like tendencies, gallow-like

2,3,4,trimethyloxyphenethylamine

what do ya mean ya dont like me cookin?

just another passing fix, eh?

or does G-d owe you the world?

shady grove, my little love

shady grove I know

(9)

 I couldnt vouch for leftie

i told him, look man

if you want to find savage henry

then your going to have

to get out of vegas immediately

 past pahrump theres an old dirt-road

with a blown out station wagon

rusted onto the side of the desert trench

about a half mile from the road

 its where all the vegans go

and the freakers that couldnt

make it slab-city

you have to go it alone

or they will never let ya in

 he stood and thought

to himself for a moment

contemplating the ifs

he’d been up for 3 days

on the way down from tijuana

clasping tight to the leather satchel

 cutting his hair first

then secondly make up as a disguise

a paved road pointing west

no money down

it was paid entirely in credit

they packed up the hitch

then stopped at smokeys

 we found a stray out by the highway

took her with us

we wanted to name her sally at first

but after some tequila we agreed on darcy

blues players on the am radio

right as we crossed

the county into mississippi

(18)

 paying the pod piper

is that it?

is that all you think were doing here immanuel?

siphoning bionical hyponotics

psychotic lovers of sorts

a tangoist

we recoiled & waited out our hunch

 disaster letters scattered the garage

stupendous timing, the left one

her stills sitting at home

gathering rootbark

tidying up dust off her pictures

from the guadalajara borrachera saga

now succumb to the twiddling

of thumbs & paperveiw

 not so bad after all

taking a drag from the spliff

welcome to the after after hours club

cuddle up

make yourself a drink

(14)

 wise men gathering drinking manischewitz

in the circled fountain

at the center of cemetery

down on Lutz & Vanderbelt,

 hither here, their betting on something clear

must be some sort of lunar cycle round concerning

the daughter of the rabbi- & whats this?

im getting something, their telling me something

about the queen of scotts in new york

for a wedding,

they were engaged at the pyramids & apparently

the spirits followed them all the way

from those catacombs hibiscus scented lettering

on all postage sent during the brief but intense

time they shared together in giza

 we hence fourth proceeded to down and out drown

ourselves in a sort of giant pool of margaritas

ah yes, full gang in company alliance

we couldnt pool it all in without a bbq basket

of easter eggs & pints of aether

some for ourselves and of course

a dashing ration for th fellas back east

(7)

 heres a sandian fully

who translates themselves

into gibberish hymns

heres a telecaster with an iron heart

falling again for the damsel in distress

experimenting with cardiac typhic fever

 rippling with exponential dopamine hits

oxytocin out the whaa-zoo

a thickening sludge like quality

spills across the temporal landscape

& after some years no effect

at the finger tips & extremities

come the decade and a half mark

sadly no effect at all

 packing the bags toward sicilia

where the tormented sagas had begun

back there at bar stool love affair

where whiskey with beelzebub

dressed us tango and took us for

love-fools around the ringer margarita

 tri-ad of lux intermediaries

egyptianism believers in crux

& crocadirro headed entities alike

like light fixtures opalescent

by the horizon lines at dusk

woozy and tactile like in their demeanor

never skipping a beat

& darting up the ley lines to latitudes

just south of a texas free for all

(17)

 papelito del computadora

honey made me

statues incubating amoebi

sand dollars sand dollars sand dollars

last call no deals

  squealing salemen

mile runners hobos

& the elderly

all gathered hastily

in red valley california

we pulled into town deep night

the evening before

woke up by the side of the highway

in an inlet near the woods

  some poor fella living in a campsite

not far off the road

comes asking to barter

food if i had it

because they had all the marijuana

they could ever smoke

but were short on munchies

i checked the reserve & did a quick inventory

whilst ransacking the rig

in search for lost totem from africa

which recovered shortly after

  however met its fate on

an evening that july in the depths of summer

first pass through taos new mexico

a fare place to part ways i suppose

letting go of sentimentality

ridden objects redirects the focus

on an inner remembering

an inner knowing of powers

  easy to say when your free

but upon stumbling one wakes up

to find a wise mans blessing

brought by horseback beneath

a shooting star yet again

granted only of course

on the assumption on the fact

that one makes his way back

  casket-cases filled with budweiser

wasted minded billionaires recoil backwards

staggering into the work bench

but not on impulse or to search for

a desire lost in ethers of childhood

back there a thousand lifetimes ago

in the shmegma where we lost our head

my head ended up on datura beside the highway

benzedrine lake and all the hiccup ghosts

we tamed nightly by the cross-reaches

of our hometown & the beach that was

accessible fifteen minutes

  small runs down to the corner store

to purchase truckers speed

that same poison of the desert here too

then there too

gigantic myths that we use like

a snake who self germinates

to write the world in its way

to tell our myths

(22)

[lifewithoutmeds]

February 7, 2023

tuesday evening, 8:08 p.m.

i stopped work around 5, made and had dinner with lorena (her contribution: leftover pad thai from Sanamluang Cafe, my contribution: chicken panang with a ton of bellpeppers), and she headed out to go hang with reyna before taking her to the airport where she’ll be taking off to baltimore to go visit her brother.

i did some dishes and prepped a bit for an In Office day tomorrow (pre-grinding my coffee, packing up some rice and panang for lunch), and moving things around from my computer’s hard drive to the external hard drive so i’m able to upload and edit and work on youtube videos (i had gone fishing with my mom on friday and got some gopro footage, but was unable to upload it due to lack of space. one new external hard drive and a quick reformat later, and now i’m finally transferring some files over.)

last week felt normal, but i’ve been feeling a little off since the weekend. on friday i went fishing with my mom, and saturday just did some errands/chores, and sunday lorena suggested we go fishing as she hadn’t in a while, so we went up to santa barbara, fished for a couple hours, then i thought we could go get some pasta in little tokyo, but there was a wait, so we swung by the adjacent mermaid cafe and lo and behold who would i find there but grace, having a quick drink with her old college roommate and her husband. despite our table being ready at pasta e pasta, somehow i/we were convinced to go join the party for an izayaka dinner where we got buzzed, then to tony’s where lorena and grace got drunk. at some point, though all seemed good and well, the night seemed to turn a bit for me. they both went inside i guess to grab a drink, but left me outside for quite a bit. i tried playing some songs on the jukebox to entertain myself, then texted each of them a few times, and finally came in to find them deep in talk, and i felt a touch of ... jealousy? envy? hard to tell. they tried to be like oh we forgot the time, we were talking you up saying how much we loved you! but i think something about it was triggering, and i felt left out, and i felt that gy was working her charm and somehow .... i don’t know, i think i felt weirdly threatened by it, or maybe i felt just like left out. gy was being funny and entertaining and at some point suggested lorena and i kiss, which i thought odd, and i objected, but gy whispered quickly in korean that lorena was into it, and that took me by total surprise and made me reevaluate for about two seconds before deciding against it, ultimately.

eventually we made our way home, with me dropping grace off and somehow getting lorena and i home. actually i think lorena asked to be taken to reyna’s, so i obliged, and then the next day, despite not having drunken much or being hung over, i felt like death/wanting to die, and was unable to do anything but occasionally check my mail and just kind of sleep. at some point lorena made some pasta and we watched white lotus but she seemed bored/distracted, was constantly on her phone, and we both seemed to just want to nap/be somewhere else/doing something else and i felt stupid and fat and unlikeable and self conscious.

today managed to be better, and i ate the rest of the pasta, and managed to shower (for the first time in quite a while), take my meds, drink coffee, and get some work done, and even make up at least for a couple hours for the previous day, and go through most of my checklist, but i just kinda felt weird and anxious and ... i dunno, insecure? did i think grace was seducing her? did i think grace was more funny/charming/better looking than me? did i think grace was coming on to lorena or vice versa? was i just being triggered because i felt left out and sometimes i feel like grace kinda gets into a clique that i’m left out of? because i know that’s a feeling i often get.

ultimately, i don’t think sparks were flying between the two of them or they’re rushing to become best friends without me, and grace seemed to have blacked out/not remember most of the night and certainly didn’t remember trying to get us to make out, and both she and lorena insisted that what they mostly did was talk me up and how great i am and how much they both loved me, which was certainly nice to hear, but i think i would have rather been present for it than alone outside in the cold, wondering when they were coming back. i think sometimes i’m afraid that i’m just the driver, the valet, the beer-getter, i’m just the errand girl while everyone else just lives their life and for whatever the reason, i allow it and people expect it and it’s just terrible and makes me feel like boundaries are being crossed but no one, including myself, respects me enough to do anything about it.

anyway. i texted some with gy and talked some with lo, and feel better in general, but just a bit uneasy, a bit insecure with where i stand with both of them, maybe vaguely afraid they’re in love with each other and once again, lorena falls in love with everybody but me, and maybe if i weren’t so fat or so self loathing, i could be loved, but .... as it is, it’s currently hopeless and i’m unloveable. i know these are just bad feelings but i’m just trying to flesh them out because i’m really not sure where these entrenched triggers are coming from. i hope i can calm down sooner than later.