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userholland · 2 years

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73 questions tag (2022 edition)

hi all ! so, i found this tag a few days ago and i did it back in 2020 so i thought it would be fun to bring it back (while also tagging some new people). sending love and hugs! <3

on a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now? i think at least a 8. i'm almost done with college, it's close to my bday and im more optimistic these days.

describe yourself in a hashtag? #shesthatgirl

if you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be? jake gyllenhaal what

if your life was a musical, what would the marquee say? "who's that girl? it's liz!"

what’s one thing people don’t know about you? still not a lot lmao

what’s your wake up ritual? read for fifteen minutes, get up and move my body, drink a glass of water and journal.

what’s your go to bed ritual? working out, usually stretching and i literally either go to bed at 11pm or 4am depends on the study sessions and writing that day.

what’s your favorite time of day? midnight or dawn!

your go to for having a good laugh? kpop try not to laugh videos/variety shows

dream country to visit? london or zurich

what’s the biggest surprise you’ve ever had? knowing that i have the capability of making friends when i feel socially awkward. i know its not a single surprise but i think quarantine really made me think that i have no friends and dont know how to be a functional human.

heels or flats/sneakers? sneakers!!!

vintage or new? new.

who do you want to write your obituary? my partner <3

style icon? jeon jungkook

what are three things you cannot live without? my laptop, my phone and journal

what’s one ingredient you put in everything? butter tbh

what 3 people living or dead would you want to make dinner for? princess diana, audrey hepburn and michelle yeoh. its a ladies night y'all

what’s your biggest fear in life? still trusting the wrong people

window or aisle seat? window!

what’s your current tv obsession? stranger things season 4 (y'all go watch it!)

favorite app? tiktok

secret talent? i can move my ears

most adventurous thing you’ve ever done in your life? probably traveling alone to mexico and wondering how i actually survived. i was 17 and knew nothing.

how would you define yourself in three words? sarcastic, introverted and quiet

favorite piece of clothing you own? xl t-shirts, sweats (black, grey and white)

a must have clothing item that everyone should have? white sneakers

a superpower you would want? invisibility

what’s inspiring you in life right now? my nonfictional books

best piece of advice you’ve received? “life is like a tree. there are many branches that are like our emotions. one branch for anger, another for happiness, another for sad, it goes on. they break off, they grow, it's all about perspective."

best advice you’d give your teenage self? don't try to grow up too fast. you take all the time in the world to heal from whoever or whatever hurt you. don't dye your hair, don't curse at your parents, and don't complain about how slow life feels. just be young, enjoy the moment and love yourself for who you are and not how others want you to be.

a book everyone should read? the switch by beth o'leary

what would you like to be remembered for? goofy as fuck

how do you define beauty? beauty is in everything and everyone. i think that everyone should feel beauty rather than search for it. your identity is yours and no one else can take that away. there is no standard in beauty except yourself!

what do you love most about your body? my freckles

best way to take a rest/decompress? listen to music

favorite place to view art? in a museum or traveling in a city

if your life was a song, what would the title be? screaming but sane

if you could master one instrument, what would it be? keyboard/piano

if you had a tattoo, where would it be? my whole left arm

dolphins or koalas? koalas

what’s your spirit animal? bunny or dolphin

best gift you’ve ever received? i dont want to say money but. money (for things i want to buy)

best gift you’ve given? i like giving people what they like or are interested in so, i dont think they're all the best but just memorable or caring.

what’s your favorite board game? sorry!

what’s your favorite color? still royal blue

least favorite color? dark orange/yellow

diamond or pearls? pearls

drugstore makeup or designer? drugstore makeup

blow-dry or air-dry? air-dry

pilates or yoga? pilates

coffee or tea? coffee or nothing

what’s the weirdest word in the english language? flabbergasted

dark chocolate or milk chocolate? NEITHER

stairs or elevators? stairs

summer or winter? summer

you are stuck on an island, you can pick one food to eat forever without getting tired of it, what would you eat? carbonara tteokbokki

a dessert you don’t like? anything almond. gross

a skill you’re working on mastering? journaling

best thing to happen to you today? i got to sleep in until 12:30

worst thing to happen to you today? i woke up tired lmao

best compliment you’ve ever received? “you look like the kind of a girl a celebrity would immediately hit on"

favorite smell? vanilla and coconut

hugs or kisses? hugs

if you made a documentary, would it be about? good food in new york

last piece of content you consumed that made you cry? stranger things season 4, ep 4: dear billy. if you know, you know.

lipstick or lipgloss? lipgloss

sweet or savory? sweet

girl crush? jung hoyeon and sydney sweeney

how do you know your in love? when someone remembers the little things

a song you can listen to on repeat? born singer by bts

if you could switch lives with someone for a day, who would it be? hmm. probably kim namjoon

what are you most excited for about this time in your life? graduating!!! writing!!! working on my model portfolio!!! anything coming my way!!!

tagging some moots ⇢ @venomsilk @t-lostinworlds @honeyspidey @thollandsdarling @totheblood @lauras-collection @cindymooons @veryholland @seolaseoul @lovelytholland @httphollands @ptergwen @silkscream @silkholland @starksview

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cosmiceverafter · 4 years

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Sprinkled Surprises of Hope and Love

Summary: Michael Guerin isn’t one for surprises, especially when it comes to his birthday. However, that won’t stop the love of his life and their friends from celebrating this curly-haired alien.

A/N: This fic is a birthday gift to my best friend, Beka! I am so unbelievably grateful that this fandom brought you and our friendship into my life. You’re my person forever and always. I hope you enjoy this fic! Happy Birthday, hun! Love ya lots! @i-never-look-away

Read on ao3

Sprinkled Surprises of Hope and Love

Summer nights in Roswell, New Mexico were some of Michael’s favorite times in this place. Ever since he was younger, he’d drive out in the middle of the desert and just watch the stars shoot across the dark night sky. He would make a wish or two, but truthfully he’d never actually believed them to be true.

That is until he met Alex Manes.

Alex Manes was the love of his existence. Often he would think that the cosmos themselves brought the two of them together. Perhaps coming to earth was written in the stars long ago so he’d find this special human man. Alex was nothing short of a miracle to his life. He gave Michael all the reasons to hope and dream, and basically…want to be and do better.

Sure, they had their ups and downs, but Michael always believed that it was worth the journey to get to this final destination with his one true love. With no regrets made, he had stayed on earth for Alex.

“What are you thinking about, Guerin?”

His thoughts of the perfect man were interrupted by the man himself. Michael looked over and saw his love smiling over at him, the crackling fire illuminating that breathtakingly beautiful smile of his. “You, as always, Darlin.’”

“You’re such a charmer,” Alex laughed as he leaned in for a kiss.

Awe yes, kissing Alex Manes. There was nothing quite like it. He was always taken back in time to their first kiss at the UFO Museum. Truth be told, he wanted to kiss Alex long before that, but unfortunately, he had been too scared to let those feelings come in. Michael had been so vulnerable in those moments. When Alex had leaned in to kiss him after giving him a safe haven and the gift of music, he had pulled away not just out of fear, but out of hope for something more than the life he had been dealt. Michael knew he would’ve messed it all up, so he hadn’t wanted to give in to the dream of wanting someone like Alex Manes.

However, he was not that strong. All it took was one look of the guy in his alien-green painted visor to know he was a goner. Without thinking of all the complications it could bring to their life, he had given in to desire.

It was the greatest move of his life.

He was brought back to the present moment as Alex’s hands moved into his curls. Every kiss they shared seemed to take away his breath yet fill him with life at the same time. It was familiar and comforting, but unique and mesmerizing. Soft lips nipped and sucked as his; Alex’s tongue licking to be let in, which of course he would always extend an invitation for.

Their tongues moved together as the crickets serenaded them in an orchestra of the warm night. He pulled away breathlessly, “God, I love kissing you.”

Alex followed him and smiled against his mouth, the warm breath of his lover hitting his face gently in an embrace, “It never gets old, does it?”

“Never,” Michael answered honestly, “I could kiss you forever and it still wouldn’t be long enough.”

“Then we’d better take every opportunity we can then. We’re living our forever,” Alex whispered, moving his mouth to Michael’s once more.

Yes, this opportunity would not be wasted on drifting thoughts of years past.

But then Alex pulled away, as Michael whined, and looked down at his watch, “Oh! It’s officially midnight. It’s your birthday!”

“Yay….”

“Hey! It’s a big deal, Michael!”

He shook his head. Another year had come and gone on a day he wasn't even sure was his real birthday, “It’s just another day.”

“Not to me it isn’t,” Alex replied as he kissed Michael’s cheek.

“You have to say that because I’m your boyfriend.”

“Nah, it’s because you’re my boyfriend that I can tell you that you drive me absolutely crazy!”

Michael grinned, “In bed?”

“In all ways imaginable.”

“As it should be,” Michael answered with a sly smile.

“Happy Birthday, my love,” Alex whispered softly into the night.

They embraced tightly; this was what made Michael felt safe. As he held Alex in his arms, he looked up at the beautiful speckled sky not wanting to be anywhere else but here.

***

“A BBQ?”

“Yes, Alex, a BBQ at the cabin! We haven’t been there since lover-boy moved in with you,” Isobel laughed on the other line. “I want to see how you’ve made it your own, and to see if Michael trashed it yet.”

“I wouldn’t let him,” Alex replied with a shrug to no one. Truth be told, having Michael move in with him was the greatest gift a man could ever wish for. All walls were down between them. They were finally comfortable being with each other in every way. It was literally heaven on earth.

“That’s my boy!” Isobel exclaimed as Kyle gave a cheer in the background. The two of them had recently started dating, and Alex couldn’t be happier for the two of them. They both deserved some happiness in their life. Kyle was his best friend, and Alex was growing closer with Isobel by the day. He enjoyed her sassy spirit—it matched his own.

“What’s Kyle going to bring?”

“He’s going to help manage the grill and I’ll be marinating the steaks of course.”

Alex smirked, “Since when did you learn to cook, Iz?”

“Please, Alex, I’ve always been a good…” He heard a sigh in the background, “Kyle has been teaching me. But fine… we’ll let Max marinate, he lives for this crap, which you know thrills Liz!”

“Ahh, that’s what I thought.”

Isobel huffed, “He won’t even let me use my powers. Not even a bit.”

“Well, that’s just rude,” Alex laughed as he shook his head, “You’re Isobel Evans, when have you ever listened to expectations?”

“Hmm, you know something, my dear friend, you’re right! I’ll work a little magic with our drinks!”

“Sounds perfect,” Alex smiled widely. Then he took a small breath, “You think Michael will enjoy this?”

“It’ll be the best surprise birthday that alien’s ever received! Just you wait and see.”

Alex sure hoped so. He wasn’t sure how much his alien lover enjoyed… surprises.

***

Michael looked up at the clock high on the wall of the Wild Pony and groaned. It had already been almost two hours.

“What’s your problem, man?” Max asked as he took a long swig of his beer.

“Brother, as much as I love sitting here listening to you talk about Liz and the latest felon, there’s a certain human I’d like to spend the rest of my birthday with.”

“Awe, c’mon, Michael!” Max replied with a smirk, “When was the last time we just got to sit and hang out together?”

“Like three days ago at the Crashdown, remember? And you kept stealing my curly fries and it pissed me off.”

“I gave you the rest of my shake, I don’t see what the problem is.”

Michael shook his head, “You never steal a fry, my friend. It’s the Food Law—Code 3. You’re a police officer. Don’t they teach you these protocols at camp?”

“Camp?”

“Yea, you all run around and shoot cardboard people… maybe a few aliens in the mix. Then you get evaluated so you try to explain that the aliens are in fact the good guys, not the young little girl out at 3 am.”

Max laughed loudly and shook his head, “You watched Men in Black again, didn’t you?”

“It’s a classic! Even Alex agrees. Plus, you and I both know that organization exists.”

“How many times are you going to make that poor human watch that movie?”

Michael slyly smiled with a wink, “Until he forces me to stop. You know how I love when he takes charge.”

“Okay well, I hate to break it to you, partner, but the Academy wasn’t like that,” Max shrugged looking down at his phone. “But fine, I’ll get you to your man.”

“About damn time!” Michael said standing up quickly, almost knocking his hat off his head. Max gave him a ‘really’ expression, the one he excelled at and was most likely born with. “I mean, I had a wonderful time with you and we should do it again soon.”

Max grabbed him by the jacket and put an arm around him, “Yeah yeah, c’mon, you.” Michael couldn’t help returning the gesture.

***

“How many balloons do I need to blow up? I thought I was managing the grill,” Kyle mumbled as it was clear the good doctor was getting lightheaded.

“Um,” Liz looked over her shoulder, “Only about 16… maybe 20, to go.”

Kyle groaned as Isobel leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, “Honey, you’re doing a fabulous job. But um, they need a bit more air. They’re looking a bit… I don’t know, lopsided.”

“You have powers, why don’t you do it? It’ll go so much faster.” Kyle replied with a wink as he kissed Isobel.

“Ugh, do we need to see this all night?” Rosa groaned as she rolled her heavily lined eyes.

“Nope. Soon Michael will be here and you’ll get to witness the Cosmic lovers go at it,” Isobel exclaimed as she motioned to Alex. “And I’ll be using my powers for something else, thank you very much!” She winked his way and handed Rosa some green streamers.

Smiling, Alex shook his head as he heard a meow. He looked down to see Boots rubbing up against his leg. Scooping the small kitten up he said, “Hi little fella, is this too much excitement for you?”

Boots purred loudly and rubbed his face against Alex’s cheek in reply. He wasn’t just happy Michael moved in because he was in love; he was also happy because he just so happened to love Michael’s cat as well. Alex stroked the black and white fur. Boots touched his face softly with his white paws as Alex cradled him in his arms.

Just then he heard a bark and he looked over at his dog Buffy, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re still my number one girl.”

He bent down, still holding Boots, and rubbed Buffy’s ear gently as her tail started going back-and-forth wildly. She rolled over and he gave her a big belly rub, the ones she loved.

Alex sat Boots down, and he curled up nice and close to Buffy, who not only allowed it but seemed to welcome the warm snuggles. The two of them really were the best of friends. Just like Milo and Otis.

“Hey! Max just texted me, they’re on their way,” Liz called out from the kitchen, looking flushed in the cheeks as she continued running around.

Isobel jumped and down and clapped excitedly.

Grabbing his guitar and taking a big breath, Alex hoped like hell Michael would forgive him for all this. He really did.

***

Michael was getting annoyed. Really annoyed. He loved Max, truly he did, but the guy was driving slower than watching paint dry. He kept his mouth shut though, resisting the urge to use his powers, not wanting to ruin their now healed relationship.

He just wanted to be with Alex. It was hard enough to be away from the guy at any point, and this was his birthday, not that he cared much about that fact, but he knew Alex did and probably planned a nice dinner or somethin’ for the two of them.

Finally, they arrived at the cabin. He was about to turn to Max to say a quick goodbye and thank you, but Max was unbuckling and stepping out of his car. What the hell?

Max clearly caught on, “Oh, I’m not going to stay or anything. I know you probably have birthday plans with Alex. I just have to ask him something.”

Since when did Max ask favors from Alex?

Shrugging with a curt nod, ignoring the awkwardness, they walked around back where he knew Alex would be. The first thing he saw was twinkling lights hanging down from the trees.

As his mind was slowly comprehending what was happening, he was stunned into silence at the….

“SURPRISE!”

Michael jumped at the word, literally getting air off the ground, and looked around. You have got to be kidding me, he thought as he saw all of their friends standing there. But where was Alex?

Just as he was about to ask the most important question, he heard the music start to play.

Alex was sitting on one of their barstools next to the trees, holding his guitar. He blew a kiss in Michael’s direction, a wink, and started to sing.

It was the song A Million Dreams from The Greatest Showman, a movie they both had enjoyed. This song though...the way his voice hit the notes was mesmerizing. This was his gift for Michael; it meant so much to them both.

The first time they had watched it, they went to the local Roswell movie theater for date night, and when the song came on, their fingers had intertwined and Michael had leaned over whispering to Alex, “It’s like our journey and our future.”

Alex has nodded and pressed his lips to Michael’s, “Kind of like a song meant for us.” Their song.

He had remembered. Alex always remembered everything.

When he was done, everyone clapped as Alex smiled and nodded to Michael. Alex knew. He knew. Michael tried to ignore the tears forming quickly in his eyes and looked away, pulling his cowboy hat way low.

He was just so unbelievably touched at that moment. Music had always brought them together; it was the foundation of their relationship.

But before he could go kiss his boyfriend, Alex started playing again. This time “Happy Birthday.” They all joined in and he felt touched in another way.

They had all had their ups-and-downs with each other, especially with Kyle Valenti who sometimes he was still unsure of, but they had overcome so much. They were a family; they had made it so.

When they were finished, Michael cleared his throat. “Y’all, thank you.”

“How mad are you on a scale to 1 to 10?” Isobel questioned with a sisterly smirk, raising an eyebrow.

“You don’t wanna know,” he replied, narrowing his eyes.

“Perfect! That’s what we were hoping for!” Isobel exclaimed excitedly as she rushed over to him and kissed him on the cheek. He hugged her, never wanting her to change her eccentric ways. She was one of a kind.

He looked over at Max, “Guessing you were in on it?”

“I took you day drinking, Michael,” his brother from another mother replied. “How you didn’t question that, is beyond me.”

They both laughed and hugged. The guy really wasn’t so bad after all, was he? Max had a heart of steel… literally.

The others came over one-by-one and shared a hug or in Kyle’s case, a handshake. It was touching really.

But there was one person he wanted to get to, above all the rest.

Alex was still sitting on the stool, letting their friends have this time with him. But Michael made his way over and grabbed Alex’s chin lightly, tilting it up, “Thank you. Thank you for the song, it meant the world to me.” Alex nodded and closed his eyes. “And thank you for planning all this.”

“You aren’t mad?” Alex opened his eyes and winced slightly, as he put his hands on Michael’s wrists. It didn’t take a genius to know this was mostly Isobel’s doing. Alex would’ve been more than fine sitting by the fire and eating together. They never needed to have showy things; they had each other and that was more than enough.

“Nah,” Michael replied, shaking his head. “Because I know you’ll make it up to me later. In so many different ways.”

Alex’s eyes widened, then filled with desire. When Alex looked at him in that way, Michael wanted to rip his clothes off. He had to control himself so he didn’t do it with his powers, something he had recently done.

“Kiss me,” Alex answered softly, his bottom lip full and pouty. It needed to be sucked on, and he volunteered always as that tribute.

As they kissed softly, Michael felt as though he could finally catch his breath.

He heard Rosa groan in the background and Isobel chuckle, “Didn’t I tell you we’d witness some ‘Cosmic exchanges?’”

Now Michael shook his head and turned to glare at the group, “It’s my birthday and I’ll kiss my man if I want to.”

Liz laughed, her long hair swaying, “Should we just be on our way then?”

Michael grinned and looked towards their cars, “Well….”

“Absolutely not!” Isobel said with that party planner gleam in her eyes. “The party is just getting started!

And party they all did. It was a wonderful evening, to Michael’s relief. They ate delicious food, which Liz, Kyle, and Alex managed. The three humans laughing over old memories. The drinks were exceptionally tasty and he kept noticing Isobel winking at Alex; information he’d pry out of his lover later. He enjoyed the fire with Max and Rosa, who talked old bands and good music as Rosa played some music of her own with Alex’s guitar.

The cake was a special one that Liz, Rosa, and Arturo made. It had an alien on top, with green frosting running down the sides. It was delicious, and his alien insides were very happy. There were lots of candles on top. Michael smiled knowing very well, he could possibly be older or younger than that.

They gave him some gifts. A really nice whiskey, a new belt and shirt that he actually really liked, and a few books. He loved to read, especially at the cabin. The people surrounding him knew him better than he ever realized.

He enjoyed the conversations, the music, and the company of his furry pets as he rubbed Buffy’s ears; the red kerchief he gave her was tied loosely around her neck. Occasionally he’d look at the window and see Boots staring sadly out the window clearly wanting to join the party. He’d go into the cabin and give his kitten some lovin’. Boots was too small to be let outside, so he’d have to bring the attention inside. Rosa and Isobel were so fond of the cat and demanded to also share the affections of his little one. Boots was thrilled, purring loudly.

They all eventually made their way around the fire, telling jokes and stories of the adventures they had all gone on together. It had been one wild ride. He was grateful for all of it, even the rough times. They shaped who he was and you know what? That was more than enough.

***

After everything was cleaned, and they had gone deep into the night, everyone finally said their goodbyes.

Alex had found him on their porch, as he was looking up at the night sky once more. Leaning over, Alex put his arms around Michael and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. “Did you have a nice birthday, sweetheart?”

Michael sighed and leaned back so he could look at Alex from within his arms. “You know what? I really, really did, baby.” He smiled softly and kissed Alex’s hand gently, “Thank you.”

“It was Isobel’s idea really,” Alex replied with a grin, “but I did think it was a good opportunity for you to see how loved you are.”

“Guess I do need you all to remind me from time to time.”

“I’ll help to do that, my love, always.”

They gazed up at the night sky, the beginning and the end of their night.

Michael held tightly to Alex’s hand, his lifeline, and his anchor that kept him grounded. Michael looked up at Alex as his love looked down at him.

“I love you, Michael.”

“I love you, Alex.”

They spoke the words at the same time; double the meaning, double the love.

Michael grinned as Alex sat down next to him, “Maybe they were right about our ‘Cosmic exchanges.’”

“That’s how it’s always been with us.” Michael nodded in reply at the truth of Alex’s words. He was right of course; the course of their relationship was written in the stars. As if by magic, a shooting star suddenly danced across the night sky. “You better make a birthday wish!” Alex said as he looked up at the heavens.

Michael looked at his beautiful Alex and felt his heart swell. So this was what true happiness felt like, sprinkled with a dash of hope. What more could he ever want when he had the whole world next to him? He brought Alex’s hand softly to his lips once more and said, “It already came true.”

#malex #malex fic #roswell nm fic #michael guerin #alex manes #kyle valenti #max evans #isobel evans #kybel #liz ortecho #rosa ortecho #HAPPY BIRTHDAY DARLIN'!#I LOVE YOU!!!#my fic #my graphic

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hozierandrew · 5 years

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tysm for tagging me @memoir-of-stars! 💕

Nickname: liz Gender: female Star Sign: aries Height: 5′1 Time: 9:02 pm Birthday: april 7th Fav Bands: arctic monkeys, coldplay, florence & the machine, foster the people, glass animals, queen Fav Solo Artists: adele, harry styles, hozier, janelle monae, lorde, mitski Song Stuck in my Head: nobody by hozier Last Movie Watched: north by northwest Last Show Watched: mr. robot When I Created my Blog: december 2017 What I Post: the musicians i mentioned, star wars, films in general (esp christopher nolan’s stuff), fashion, celebrities, & aesthetic posts Last Thing Googled: what is woad # of Blogs: besides this one i have @edwardhopping, my art blog & @immenselemon, my yellow aesthetic blog (they’re not updated nearly as much tho) # of Asks: over this summer, a grand total of 2 fkdjs Why This URL: i didn’t want to get on tumblr until i found a url i absolutely loved, so i had to brainstorm for quite a bit. i love adam driver n i had seen midnight special a few months before so i was like let’s try his character’s name. i 100% thought it’d be taken ‘cause i know how much this site loves adam, but it wasn’t! and here i am today jfshds Following: 128 Followers: 30 Fav Color: silver, scarlet, & navy blue Average Hours of Sleep: anywhere from 5-10 hrs Lucky #: 7 Instruments: i used to play the keyboard in high school n i want to get back into it soon What I’m Wearing: pjs w pineapples on them, purple sweater, & space socks # of Blankets for Sleep: one or two depending on the season Dream Job: museum director Dream Trip: a tour of the uk & ireland Fav Food: raspberries Ethnicity: white Fav Song: as in all-time fave? viva la vida by coldplay

Tagging: @benisolo, @caramelcosmiclatte, @darling-rey, @deadwright, @exmachina, @imperialvader, @mysticaltragedyturtle, @renskywalker, @rose-red-rose, @songofthesstars

#wow this is lengthy huh #so now u guys know everything abt me fkdjd #tag games #text #long post

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comicreliefmorlock · 5 years

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So here's a fun game. What are, let's say...10-15 pieces of media (books, tv, movies, whatever) that seem to have been made JUST for you? why?

*cracks knuckles*

Surprisingly, not all of these will be Tanith Lee.

…however…

{And this goes under a cut because this is going to be a very long, verbose post. A really long, verbose post.}

1. “Tales from the Flat Earth” by Tanith Lee

These books are essentially like sitting by a crackling fire on a cool summer night beneath the glimmering night sky while a smiling crone cards wool and tells you the stories that come from a time aeons before your birth. I have never in my life found a quartet of books–let alone one book–that have so completely and absolutely captivated me. From the first page of “Night’s Master,” I was gone.

Not only the language–breaking the fourth wall and referring to “words lost when the world reformed itself in the chaos”–but the characters… Azhrarn, the personification of Wickedness who saves humanity with love. Uhlume, the personification of Death who faces a form of mortality and is forever changed by it. Chuz, the walking embodiment of Madness, who is gentle to those under his domain and understands that he cannot understand why he does what he does.

Ferazhin and Narasen and Sivesh and Simmu and Jornadesh and Kassafeh and Zhirem and Azhriaz and Dunziel… Names I have never forgotten because they all but sang to me. A flat earth that holds the best and worst of humanity, often balled into a single person, with Underearth and Innerearth and Upperearth holding gods that have grown so distant they no longer recall humans were their creation at all.

I have always loved mythology and these books? These are myth.

2. Pan’s Labyrinth -dir. by Guillermo del Toro

I’m not from Spain or know Spanish. I knew nothing about the Spanish Civil War when I first saw this movie. And this was the first film I saw that cemented del Toro for me as the only man I would ever trust to turn Tanith Lee’s books into cinema.

I love fairy tales, mythology and folklore. And when you read enough of it, you see how bloody it actually is. How terrifying it is to realize that you’re not the only one in the world, humans aren’t the only ones, there are creatures on the midnight side of reality that share space with you.

And I never really liked the Disney version of fairy tales with “happily ever after” and weddings.

This movie was literally like watching something I’d imagined for myself. The acting was fucking phenomenal, the sets and costumes were off the hook and the comparison of “fairy tale horror” and “real horror” that overlapped just blew me the hell away.

And Doug Jones… Doug Fucking Jones. I never respected mimes until him and now I give all the respect. Being able to act, to breathe real life into a concept and a costume until it becomes a character you could picture walking through a forest or peering around a corner while not being able to use your own voice OR your own facial expressions is a kind of magic I think does not get enough appreciation.

DOUG FUCKING JONES, LADIES, GENTS AND GENDER REBELS.

3. Fatal Frame - Tecmo

I’m a writer/reader, not a gamer. When I have downtime or I want to relax, I almost always gravitate towards a book instead of a video game. The few games I’ve played purely for my own enjoyment have usually been MMOs and involve roleplaying.

Except for the Fatal Frame series.

Survival horror is my favorite game genre and I lamented when Resident Evil became more “survival action” than survival horror. (Fuckin’ lickers in the original Resident Evil game oh my god.) I wanted a survival horror game that had some meat to it, had something really compelling about it.

And I found Fatal Frame.

I love Japanese mythology. I especially love Japanese ghosts. For some reason–maybe out of sheer novelty because I, being an ignorant American raised near the US-Mexico border, have had little exposure to it–Japanese ghosts are my absolute favorites. Yurei (and the other subclassifications) just have something to them that I haven’t found in other mythologies. I’ve read and reread Oiwa and Okiku’s stories, been fascinated by the concept of the Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai and wanted more of what I found.

Which Fatal Frame provided.

Not only do the game mechanics work beautifully for someone as easily startled as I am, but the story behind each individual game is achingly intense. The intricacy of the interwoven histories, the rituals, the underlying question of “was all this really necessary or was this a priesthood trying to stay in power”… I love absolutely everything about these games.

4. “The Blue Sword” by Robin McKinley

I’m not going to lie–this book took me forever to actually read. The first two pages were so achingly boring that I had no fucking clue why my mother had recommended it to me.

And then one day, bereft of anything else to read, I flipped through it. I still distinctly remember the line that made me stop and go “wait, what?” – “…your horse tells me where you’ve been…”

me: wait what horses can talk in this? wtf? *flips to the beginning and sits down to fuckin’ read it*

Slogging through those first few pages? Worth it. Because Harry/Hari/Harimad was the first heroine I’d ever encountered that I could imagine myself being. She was too gangly and not particularly pretty and kind of clumsy. She didn’t draw admiring eyes everywhere she went, spent a lot of time going ‘I can’t do this wtf’ and had aches and saddlesores.

Meeting Harry felt like seeing myself on a page for the first time in my life. And seeing someone with flaws like me going through adventure and fighting and succeeding and failing and getting a happily ever after felt like a warm blanket. Like someone had written a book just to tell me: “It’s okay that you’re not beautiful or graceful or soft-spoken and elegant. It’s okay that you’re clumsy and a goof and your hair is fuzzy as fuck because you can be a heroine, too.”

5. “Whoever Fights Monsters” by Robert K. Ressler

No, I’m not a serial killer. :D Nor am I an FBI profiler.

However, after reading “The Silence of the Lambs” by Thomas Harris for the first time in ninth grade, I was fascinated by serial killers. Like… how did they do it? How did they get away with it? WHY did they do it? What kind of person did things like this? I wanted to know so much more and I started grabbing every book on serial killers that I possibly could find.

And the reaction of classmates and teachers who saw my reading material was… less than stellar. Even my mother was vaguely worried about what I was getting out of reading all…that.

It felt like my fascination with serial killer psychology was a flaw in my character that no one else seemed to share. Until I read “Whoever Fights Monsters” and saw Robert K. Ressler talking about the exact same thing. He wasn’t a “sicko” or a “freak” or a “lunatic” or a “killer-in-training” for being fascinated by the psychology of humans who could treat other humans like a moment’s disposable entertainment.

And suddenly, neither was I.

6. American Horror Story: Hotel - FX

‘American Horror Story’ is entirely my thing. Interwoven narratives of fascinating (and often awful) people combining “American horror history” with interpersonal storylines? Yes, thank you, I’ll take a dozen.

This season in particular, however, is just more for me than any other.

Maybe it’s the vampires that are self-obsessed and not particularly powerful but end up with petty grudges and complaints. Or the ghosts that bitch and whine at each other, find consolation together, use Twitter and spend their long, long days doing little more than drinking, smoking and obsessing over their lives and deaths. Maybe it’s the single location with so many years of history weaving together like a book of short stories.

I love ‘Hotel’ because it feels like Brandenburg to me. I could so easily see the entire season taking place in my fictional city and mentally insert my own characters into the show without losing a single step.

Also Kathy Bates is absolutely glorious and I desperately wish to be a tenth as glamorous as Liz Taylor.

7. “The Butterfly Garden” by Dot Hutchinson

Books about serial killers? Yes, please.

Books about serial killers told by a victim who barely survived and understands what trauma really means? Yes, please.

What especially got me about this book is my thing for dioramas. The first one I ever remember seeing was in the El Paso Museum of Archaeology (yes, I’m from El Paso, Texas) and it always both frightened and fascinated me.

^ This one in particular would keep me motionless for ten or twenty minutes at a time, kind of terrified at a house within a building and then absolutely enthralled at a house inside a building.

And the dioramas mentioned in “The Butterfly Garden” were akin to those in “The Cell” –some terrible, awful glimpse into someone’s mind that was visualized and externalized in a permanent way.

8. “War for the Oaks” by Emma Bull

I love the fae.

And I also have read enough to know that those sprightly little fucks are terrifying and humans are rarely left unscathed by them.

This book was my introduction to “urban fantasy,” much as Charles de Lint was my introduction to what I consider “mythic fantasy” and a city that felt so much like my own.

And what was so quintessentially, absolutely me about this book–other than the main love interest being the Phouka :D :D :D–was the underlying theme about creativity.

It’s a driving force, a magic that humans have. It’s uniquely human (as far as we know) and often the only talisman against the dark that we’ve got. With creativity, there’s magic. There’s a spark of something beyond the mundane realities of survival. Creativity is a sword and shield all in one, complete with a lure to bring others along with you.

Whether it’s through music, art, poetry or graphic design, creativity is the actual drive for immortality that pushes us to reach beyond ourselves and touch those we have no possibility of seeing or speaking to in our own short, real lives.

9. Good Omens - Neil Gaiman/BBC

I loved the book when it came out. I didn’t expect to love the mini-series. I especially didn’t expect to love the mini-series for the #IneffableHusbands.

I won’t belabor the point about why this is on my list. The #IneffableHusbands tag on my OOC blog is enough. :D

10. What We Do in the Shadows - Jemaine Clement, Taika Waititi

Vampires who are as absurd, incapable and oblivious as me? Yes. All of my yes.

Having played the old World of Darkness tabletop games for years--and absolutely fallen in love with them--I found this movie and was in absolute heaven. These are vampires I can actually imagine hanging out with. These are vampires (and werewolves) I can envision walking around a city.

Noble creatures of the night don’t seem real to me (aside from the obvious reasons.) The supernaturals in this movie? They felt like people I knew. Like people I could meet or characters I’d written myself.

I like the fantastical being put into the mundane--which is why my genre is ‘urban fantasy’ although I have such an eye-twitch about it being all supernatural detectives chasing various pieces of ass now--and I especially love it when the fantastical doesn’t outweigh the mundane.

Imagining vampires vacuuming and riding the bus fits in nicely with my desperate belief (and hope) that the fantastical isn’t JUST imaginary but actually exists.

{And there, I’m restricting this to 10 or we’ll be here all NIGHT.}

#Asks #Writing is life #Books are life #Here are Angel's specific likes and dislikes #as shown through visual aid

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homosociallyyours · 6 years

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a friend just posted a pic on fb of the coffee shop we used to hang out at, taken way back in the day. it’s just a shot of the place taken from inside, looking out the big glass windows and onto the street of downtown chattanooga. but one friend pointed out that she could see another friend’s van parked across the street, and one of the baristas came on and said he’d taken the photo and then proceeded to post a bunch more.

anyway i’m feeling nostalgic so i’m posting about it. memories behind the cut.

i started going there when i was maybe 15 years old. i don’t remember why, but it’s likely that the artsy nerd club i was a part of (we stayed after school to watch amadeus and monty python and we’d sometimes go to the local art museum) went there after a meeting one day. or maybe someone told me about it. anyway, it was my favorite place to go. i would drink pots of tea, always trying new things.

on my 16th birthday my parents got me a teapot from there and a gift certificate to buy tea with. i had that teapot til it broke a year ago. 20+ years! it moved with me to and from college, to nyc, california, texas, and back to california. damn.

anyway after i’d been going for a while i started talking with the owner. his name was ian, and he was pretty young. he loved tea and coffee and he had a roaster where they’d make their own coffee. it was loud and lovely, and for a long time it lived up front, right by a little elevated area with couches. when it was running you couldn’t hear anything and had no choice but to either shout or be quiet.

ian encouraged my love of tea, and offered to keep track of everything i’d tried in a little notebook that was kept behind the counter. i got to make notes on every pot i drank, and i remember writing “terrible! grass!” after my first pot of green tea (it was oversteeped--my fault--and probably made with water that was too hot--their fault). i had my first pu-er there, and fell in love with its damp leaf flavor and that turned earth scent that it has. i drank multiple pots of jasmine pearls and wrote a caffeine fueled poem about it with a friend. i loved that little coffee shop.

i don’t remember when i went from hanging out inside to hanging out outside, but i feel like i was 18 or so. the older people (they were probably barely 21-25, fucking babies) sat out there smoking and drinking coffee. i developed a crush one summer on a guy who made me think of arthur dent for some reason (don’t ask because i don’t know) and we went on one awkward date and didn’t kiss, and now i wonder what’s happened to him and if he, too, wasn’t straight. who knows? someone, i’m sure, but i can’t remember his last name anymore so is it even relevant?

i’d never felt cool til i went off to college. it was like leveling up without trying, like when you’re playing a game and do one action and suddenly all your stats are refilled and you’re like...this is unexpected? but i’ll take it? i think that’s why i decided i could really sit with the outside tables. that and my bff, who was dating someone who was friends with a lot of those people, would show up sometimes and sit out there.

(if you’ve actually been reading along so far, here’s where i’m gonna introduce you to a bunch of people i’ve never talked about before and will likely never mention again. just so you have fair warning.)

the cast of characters shifted a lot, but there were always the constants. scott, the barista, who was much older than most of the people hanging out but looked young and seemed young. i look back with adult eyes and question the relationship we had, but at the time i just thought it was cool that someone so much older thought i was worth hanging out with. but he was 30 when i was 19, and man that’s a lotta years. he had a summer where he hit on my friend and i constantly, after his wife left him and he was kinda floundering a bit. but it never went past flirting and it never bothered me, though like i said it kinda does now. we were still hanging out when i was 21 and we’d go get beers after the coffee shop closed at ten or midnight. he’d turn up obnoxious music really loud and i’d sometimes help close.

there was gabe and george, brother and sister in a family of people with names starting with the letter g. george was tiny and cute and either very drunk or very hyper from coffee at all times. gabe was a nerd who was usually quiet but loved to play scrabble, and we’d take the board inside sometimes and battle one another. he was much better than me, i won’t lie. liz and ever were both writers who would play with us sometimes. ever had changed her name at some point (to ever; any name she had before is irrelevant) and when we met she explained the meaning of her new name, which i won’t give because damn it’s very google-able.

she was a so fascinating to me, always talking about some feminist theory or philosopher, and i always felt so smart when we’d hang out. like a Serious Thoughtful Adult and not a kid. and liz was less serious but no less smart. she played scrabble a lot more and for a while we got pretty close. she took me out after coffee sometimes to a shitty bar with pool tables and tried to teach me how to play pool. she had her own cue and even though she was like 5′2″ she could break like nobody’s business. i never figured out how to do that part.

alex would come with us sometimes. he was tall and handsome and rode a motorcycle, and was the first openly bi guy i ever met. one time he invited me over to his house and we laid around listening to the smiths and talking. he burned me a copy of their greatest hits that i still have, all scratched up so it probably doesn’t play anymore. he crashed his bike more than once driving drunk. dumb fuckin kid. now he repairs coffee machines and sails, i think. life is funny.

a few other people ran in groups. meg and waide and the aforementioned jason and ardyce. some people called meg “big megan” and another megan (her family was really wealthy, rich southern politicians who knew the clintons and have a mention in sweet home alabama--the song, not the movie) was “little megan” because she was still in high school. i joked that i was medium megan, but the whole thing was awkward because big megan was fat and i was small fat and little megan was skinny. i’m gonna blame it on thoughtless dudes, but who the fuck knows? we all pretended not to mind it anyway.

waide ended up being a connection with other people who i met later. my hometown is weird in that it’s actually a pretty big part of the southern punk scene, so a lot of punks i meet have spent time there, and anyone over a certain age probably spent time at the bar waide worked at (the stone lion, and then maybe also the pickle barrel) so he’s one of those people who i’ll end up mentioning even though we haven’t spoken in years.

at some point a kid named ory showed up. i think he was 16 when he started coming around, and i used to call him puppy because he was excitable and silly, full of energy one minute and then mopey crashing the next. like a lot of people there he drank a lot and would be fucked up sometimes and make dumb choices. i always wanted to protect him. when i was 22 (and he was 19, i think) we ended up sitting together at the second lotr movie and having some kind of weird chemistry. that summer i drove him home one night and we had a super heavy make out with lots of clothed grinding. honestly the furthest i’ve ever gone with a cis straight(ish, he hooked up with a couple dudes but idk if he’d say he’s bi) dude and it was awkward in that we never talked about it? and then he came to visit me a couple years later in new york because he was in the navy, and he got super drunk and passed out on my couch and was a mess because he literally never stopped being a puppy.

he’s fucked up now, fully cancelled bc he said shit about girls rock camp (really dude?) and also probably cheated on his wife on their honeymoon? idk, it was fb rumors and then he deleted. but i’d believe it, honestly.

and then there were all these absolutely random downtown characters: dirty mark (a crusty punk who was drunk or high most of the time) and shirtless dave (yeah he really didn’t wear a shirt that much) usually came as a pair. sometimes dave hung out with a guy my friends and i called blue hair. he once hit on my friend and she panicked and gave him my number instead of hers because her brain didn’t make up a fake number fast enough.

there was sandy the flower man, who just passed away a couple weeks ago. he’d get flowers from local florists and go around on his bike, stopping into the coffee shop or to bars with roses and carnations and daisies. people gave him money usually, but sometimes he’d just hand you a flower because he wanted to. i saw a picture from a memorial and there was a portrait of him that was sat on top of his bicycle, all of it surrounded with flowers on flowers. so pretty. it’s what he deserved.

things changed around 2005 or so, i think. by that time, all the old baristas had left and the kids who came in were all weirdly religious and went to the christian college on the mountain. they made shitty coffee and sometimes played xtian rock and most of the old regulars couldn’t take it anymore. ian got sick around that time, too, and ended up selling the place. they stopped carrying much tea, if any.

but they finally sold the space and moved in like 2015. i remember the first time i drove by and didn’t see the lights on inside. it felt like seeing a friend from grade school all grown up, maybe the kid you had a crush on but they have a family now and you don’t think they’d recognize you at all so you just have to walk away. gone.

fuck this post is long as shit, i’m sorry for anyone on mobile. but damn it was good to get my memories out.

#long post #text post #personal #coffee shop memories #i thought i was so grown up

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nofomoartworld · 7 years

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Art F City: L.A. Art Diary Week Four (Everyone Loves Eames, Erotic Art, and More)

Screenprint by Polkela, seen at Co-Lab Gallery.

In his fourth week in Los Angeles, Michael Anthony Farley discovers that there’s not enough to do on weekdays and way too much to do on weekends. Here’s how he spent the weekend. Everyone loves Ray and Charles Eames, and erotic art.

Catch up on Week One, Week Two (and Week Two, Part Two), and Week Three.

Friday 7/14

I am working from a Starbucks in a nondescript strip mall near a Gold Line station in Pasadena. I stand in line for my second coffee, and give my name to the barista, when the man behind me asks “Michael? Michael what?” I turn around and realize I’ve just run into an old buddy from art school in Baltimore who I haven’t seen since we graduated. We chat about how we both ended up in the same suburban California Starbucks, thousands of miles from our hometown.

He moved out here to work in visual effects on films. Now, he’s attending a graduate program at the Art Center College of Design a few blocks away, learning virtual reality skills for the coming boom in demand. He tells me that he, like all the contract artists who work on big blockbusters, is under constant surveillance by the studios to make sure footage doesn’t leak as it did in the X-Men Origins: Wolverine debacle. I immediately start mentally formulating the plot of a William Gibson-esque thriller.

Hopping on the Gold Line back into the city, I transfer to the subway, on my way to the Expo Line—the newest and arguably most-praised piece of L.A.’s odd rail network. It’s irritating that you have to pay for each transfer (bringing the cost of a three-line rail trip to about the same as a Lyft line ride) but otherwise I’m pretty impressed by how much smoother and cleaner L.A.’s trains are than aging East Coast systems. I feel slightly vindicated for my uncommon decision to take public transit when I look down out the window of the elevated train and see untold millions of cars sitting in seemingly endless gridlock. The opening I’m heading to (oddly, the sole art event I could find on a Friday evening) is at The Landing, a gallery about 16 miles Southwest from my starting point. Google Maps tells me the trip will take around an hour and a half by public transit. Not wanting to repeat my usual mistake of showing up too late for L.A.’s early-to-bed art scene, I plan to get there around 6 p.m.

(L-R) Ryan Fenchel, “Sidereal Procession, the Adept in Public”; Don Edler, “Chaise Lounge for Celeste and Unmonumental Table,” 2017 (with John Zane Zappas Ashtray); Gary Knox Bennett, “Pair of Eames Chairs Assemblage,” 1959.

By some strange magic of perfectly-timed transfers, I actually arrive to the opening early. For about half an hour I’m the only one in the gallery, and the staff are shocked that I beat rush hour traffic and found parking. I explain that I took the train, which has an elevated station nearly directly above the gallery.

“Wow. What’s that like? I didn’t know anyone used it!”’

I wouldn’t say the train was packed, but it was far from empty. The opening on the other hand, remains pretty dead for the majority of time I hang around, which is confusing because the show is great and they’ve laid out the most impressive buffet of snacks I have ever seen (another strike of good luck, since my opening/dinner buddy cancelled on me last minute).

Gabrielle Garland

The group show, The Useful and the Decorative, pays tribute to The Landing’s former identity as a design gallery. It’s a collection of art objects that allude to functional designwares from plates to furniture. It’s right up my alley, as I love both painterly surfaces and midcentury modernism—two things that are rarely conflated outside of nonrepresentational painting. Here, though, design classics such as Le Corbusier’s chaise lounge and the much-treasured Eames recliner populate endearingly wonky paintings of interiors by Gabrielle Garland. She’s cleverly balanced expressive brushwork with subjects iconic enough to be legible despite warped perspective. There are no figures in the paintings. Staring into each domestic space, I imagine this is what it must be like to take an ayahuasca trip in one of those immaculate California homes from the pages of Dwell. It occurs to me that’s probably not an uncommon occurrence.

Don Edler, “Anthropocentric Tablet and Chablet Tair,” 2017.

The other highlight of the show is Don Edler’s work, which “fossilizes” contemporary design objects on the verge of obsolescence in hydrocal—iPhones, calculators, credit cards, and so forth. One piece in particular, “Anthropocentric Tablet” reminds me of Michael Jones McKean’s recent dystopic anthropology museum at The Contemporary. In both installations, there’s a sense that the world as we know it will disappear, and our material culture will be a cryptic piece of archeology for another to interpret.

I take the train back Downtown and an old friend from Baltimore, Neale, picks me up at the end of the line to catch up. We’re sitting on his balcony in a particularly picturesque corner of Echo Park when I notice a friend from Berlin has checked in on Instagram a few blocks away. I message my friend, filmmaker Yony Leyser, and find out he’s in town touring his documentary Queercore: How to Punk a Revolution. He invites us to an event at the Tom of Finland Foundation nearby and we decide to walk over.

In the garden of the Tom of Finland house.

As I should’ve come to expect by now, the walk takes far longer than we anticipated and everyone’s already hopping in Ubers by the time we arrive. Tom of Finland’s former home strikes me as surprisingly cutesy (a sentence I never thought I would type). Neale explains, “Navigating L.A. by Google Maps always fucks me up because you zoom in and there are grids within grids and the blocks are huge. It’s like watching Powers of 10.” Despite its Bermuda-Triangle-like navigational challenges, Los Angeles constantly redeems itself with Eames references.

We’re given an address to a secret-ish warehouse venue downtown, where a mini-festival of queer erotic performance art and video screenings is taking place. As soon as we arrive, someone wins a door prize comprised of various dildos. A performer described as “a proudly non-binary artist who prefers to be identified by their LinkedIn profile” begins lip-synching to Alice DeeJay’s 1999 club hit “Better Off Alone” while presenting their anus.

Having spent my day criss-crossing vast distances, I am deliriously tired. We’re being steered to some chill-out installation apparently intended to re-center our sexual qis or realign our erotic chakras or cleanse our auras (or something with crystals?). I’m told there’s no alcohol and I realize I probably can’t get through whatever this is without it. Yony disappears on foot to find an open liquor store. We warn him that after midnight in L.A. is the equivalent of 4 A.M. in any other city, but he persists.

He rounds a dark corner and it’s the last we see of him.

Saturday 7/15

Bodega Vendetta

I wake up on Neale’s couch and walk another deceptively far, scorching hot “10 blocks” to a friend-of-a-friend’s apartment who is a curator. He shows me this drawing by Bodega Vendetta and never have I wished more that a work on paper was an animated GIF.

Over the course of hours, I receive multiple conflicting texts from friends encouraging me to attend different events that all begin around the same time many miles apart. An art magazine release party! An opening in Culver City! An opening an hour away in the opposite direction! A party at a collector’s house! A party at a gallerist’s house! Yony’s screening! A party that’s “the L.A. pop-up of Club Glam”! (I am told that saying something is “The L.A. pop-up of _____” lends it credence, even if it’s a thing that hasn’t actually existed anywhere else.) I think about all the weeknights I’ve spent looking for something (anything) to do here and realize L.A. has the most extreme case of problematic weekend-loading I have ever encountered.

Megan St. Clair “FIRST PLANT,” oil on wood. Houseplant art is alive and well at Co-Lab Gallery.

I settle on attending The Co-Lab Gallery’s closing party with Liz Eldridge because I have heard good things from several friends about the Highland Park institution. Many of my peers in Los Angeles have small but impressive art collections, and a big chunk of those works came from Co-Lab. The gallery functions more like a retail space than a traditional white cube model—it’s jam-packed with art hung salon-style, with tables full of ceramics and racks of prints and other artist-made knick-knacks. This is a display strategy that normally would drive me crazy, but here it works because so much of the art is actually good and the volume allows the gallery to keep prices accessible. There are a handful of paintings priced under $100 that I’m seriously tempted to buy, but remember that figure represents about one week’s worth of necessary Uber rides here. I’m slightly ashamed that I’ve allowed L.A. to add another step in Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs.

Anti-gentrification wheat pastes in front of The Co-Lab Gallery.

I’m introduced to gallerist Kristin Hector, who first opened the space in Koreatown seven years ago, but has been in Highland Park for the past three. I ask her why the gallery is closing, and she blurts out “It’s not gentrification backlash! Everyone always assumes that!” (As in many pockets of East L.A., art galleries such as Co-Lab and “hipster” businesses like coffee shops and yoga studios along York Boulevard are frequently targeted by anti-gentrification graffiti.)

She explains that she wants to move into a larger space and shift the focus of the practice. I ask her if the jam-packed hang is indicative of every show or just a “going-out-of-business” sale vibe.

“Oh this is what all of our group shows are like!” she explains, between shouting out unthinkably reasonable prices across the room, “I love so many different aesthetics. It’s fun to see different styles come together—this is a good example,” she gestures to a wall of paintings that alternate between provisional painting, expressionist figuration, and realism, “Always colorful! Always a little ridiculous, and sometimes dark but vibrant!”

Liz and our friend Brittney are enthusiastically flipping through a rack of prints and other works on paper, asking each other for advice. Since wall space is already at a premium in Liz’s sunny Craftsman bungalow, I suggest investing in one painting for the same price as several cheaper pieces. We move around the room, deliberating. We’re both drawn to Julian Tan’s small acrylic paintings on panel. Each is obsessively jam-packed with detail, describing chaotic domestic spaces. (Naturally, as in the Gabrielle Garland paintings from the night before, Eames chairs make cameos. I start to think that if all artists in L.A. have such comfortable and tasteful furniture, it makes sense people become homebodies when they move here from cramped East Coast apartments).

Julian Tan’s cryptically detailed acrylic on wood paintings.

Liz—ever the dramaturg—begins excitedly fabricating narratives for each mise-en-scène: “This is clearly a room of privilege; it’s a kid who doesn’t understand what he has! I feel like this is the teenage fantasy of someone who grows up to be in the alt-right,” gesturing to an interior full of swords, video games, and other boy toys. Then, “Wait, is he making meth in this one? Meth AND an Eames chair?”

The paintings are all hypnotically captivating, but one detail (other than the titular cinematic reference) draws me to “2001 IS ON, LET’S CHILL”. On the coffee table a copy of Haruki Murakami’s “1Q84” is described with a remarkable economy of tiny brush strokes. It’s one of my personal favorite books of the past few years, so I could spot its signature cover anywhere, but Tan’s ability to squeeze so much charmingly shaky detail into a few square millimeters is still impressive. Its inclusion also complicates the “bro-iness” of the other objects in the homes—one of the book’s main plot lines is in essence a feminist revenge tale.

Liz ends up purchasing the piece (and plenty of works on paper too) and we leave ecstatically talking about how good owning art feels. On the way out, we overhear that the gallery’s new reincarnation will actually be as an art rental facility for film sets in North Hollywood, close to Studio City and its endless sound stages. At first we’re disheartened to hear that—Co-Lab seems to have filled a niche position in the city wherein young creative types could actually afford to support their peers. I then remember Mel Chin’s collective GALA Committee, which infiltrated the set dressing of Melrose Place with conceptual artworks. Kristin Hector seems to have a penchant for curating works with sneaky details, and I’m optimistic Co-Lab’s next incarnation might carry that torch.

L.A., after all, owes its cultural gravitas to the intersections of art and spectacle, counterculture and schlock. Who knows what books might show up on the coffee tables of shitty sitcoms and soap operas in the years to come? As we dive ever deeper into this latest battle of the culture wars, tactics like that will only become more vital than the first time around.

Detail from Julian Tan’s “2001 IS ON, LET’S CHILL,” Acrylic on wood.

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