#then truly seeing folks at the grocery store dressed up for fun just made my day that little bit brighter and more fun

[thepurpleglass]

I was in the Whole Foods tonight and I saw a Ken (blonde, sleeveless jean jacket) a Barbie (blonde wig, pink outfit and scarf) and a Mermaid Barbie (blue wig, iridescent skirt, starfish as hair accessory.) Obviously going to or just coming from the movie. Could not help but grin at them and they all grinned back! The people watching since last Thursday has been on point. Hell yeah!

[todaydreambelieversfic]

Author Spotlight: Coffeegleek Day 3

Author : @coffeegleek​

How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

At least a few revisions. Then multiple editing passes, and even with my spouse as my proofreader for the past 25+ years, and doing more editing passes before posting to AO3, I still find annoying little typos, sometimes large ones.

If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why?

There was a crack fic I stopped writing years ago. It was a self-challenge during one of those tumblr trope challenges. I was trying to combine all of the tropes into the same fic as they were announced. It got zero traction though so I gave up. I'd love to go back and complete it, make it better. I had the whole thing outlined too.

What do you look for in a beta?

My spouse. We've been together for decades. He's been proofreading my original science fiction work and various fandoms' fanfics since before we were married. He even proofreads my Klaine smut and doesn't blink an eye. (He's a Glee fan too and on tumblr.) He knows what I'm trying to say when I can't find the right words and supplies them. He catches things I don't. What I love the most is for my original work, he's written his own fanfic. It's BAD. It truly is, but it's so heartfelt and earnest. He even came up with a soundtrack should I ever publish my sci-fi novel and the movie or show rights be bought. You really can't get a better beta than that. <3

There’s a number of friends on tumblr that I bounce ideas off of and who give me advice for topics they know far more about than me and google. I try to thank them in my fics.

If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

I’m going to steal another author’s recent answer and say that I could never do someone else’s work justice. However, I would love to see the author’s ideas for their fics even if they couldn’t write a prequel or sequel.

I suck at remembering titles and author names. There were two political fics that I would love to read more of should their authors ever decide to write in those verses again. One was where Kurt and Blaine's dads were running for president and Kurt and Blaine were along for the ride, staying in the same hotels at time (where they first met,) having to do school remotely, having to be the perfect sons for the press and Blaine being fed up because his parents were conservative Republicans. Then there was another fic where Burt was president and Kurt was the First Son living in the White House, along with Finn, and it was hard to date when your every move is watched by the press.

Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

I write AU, so canon is only a word often misspelled by me. :) Seriously though, I try to incorporate as many canon elements and characters into my AU fics as I can. It's the kind of AU I like to read as well. What draws me to read and write AUs is taking canon characters, putting them into a different setting, and seeing how they'll react. At their core, they still need to remain the same in principle and have many of the same traits. Like Kurt will always love fashion and be headstrong no matter what. Blaine is always going to have that spark within himself, no matter how depressed or oppressed he gets. Burt and Carole are always going to be loving and nurturing parents at heart. Even in fics where Burt isn't woke, there's a part of him that means well. (Not one of my own fics, but one I read a long time ago.) Different circumstances will change the canon characters and make them react in different ways though. Like, Kurt could end up more withdrawn and hide his love of fashion as a matter of survival and self preservation. He or Blaine could turn into "bad boys." Coach Beiste will always have a heart of gold. Miss Pillsbury will always have a problem with messes. Things like that. I know canon. Give me all the alternate universe versions of it and I will be a happy camper.

Talk about a review that made your day.

I haven't checked for reviews on my fics in ages (because I'm an insecure chicken) so I don't remember any specifically. I do remember there were many that made my day. There are those who take the time to review every chapter. Ones who write only a short note to thank me for writing the fic - both the angsty ones and the cracky fun ones. I love it when someone mentions something that no one else has that I was hoping someone would notice because I was proud of it. I'm not a popular author and don't get a lot of kudos or comments or reblogs compared to many. So each comment and kudos means a lot to me and I'd like to publicly thank every single person who wrote one or hit that kudos button.

Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

I once got a troll who decided it was his job to complain that I had misspelled hors d'oeuvres in one sentence out of an entire verse where the word was written multiple times correctly. It was a series of Klaine Advent one shots for the Empty Nest verse. At first I was shocked and replied with an apology. Then I was, "F this. The person is a troll who didn't read any other part of the fic or verse, just this one quickly written one shot entry, and if all they had to say was that I'd misspelled a commonly misspelled word, then they aren't worth my time." I deleted the comment. There's concrit and trolling. It wasn't concrit.

What advice do you have for people just starting to write?

Have fun writing, even the hard stuff. Know that it's okay to take breaks. Try your best and know you'll get better the more you write and the more you read. Pronouns are your friend and free. Don't put, "I know this is going to suck, so whatever," in your fic description. We all suck at times. It's a part of writing. But if you want folks to read it, using that as your fic's summary isn't the way to go. Just my opinions, which won't even buy you a cup of coffee.

Which fic do you most like to discuss with other people? Why?  

I think it’s pretty obvious from all of my rambling that I enjoy talking about both of my series - Empty Nest verse and A Very Hallmark Christmas verse.  I'm not a popular author and I know my fics, especially the Empty Nest verse ones, aren’t everyone’s thing, so I never get to really discuss them except with friends that I bug to death in private and via long replies to comments on AO3. (You all are saints blessed by all of the good and patient gods.) I have so much to say about them - the process of writing them, the world building, research, and character decisions that went into every single one. I know they’re not perfect. I know the Empty Nest verse grew miles beyond the ficlette about Burt and Carole that it was meant to be. I know my sense of humor in the Hallmark verse isn’t everyone’s thing either. I still worked really hard on them and am glad that I did. Empty Nest let me release a lot of the fear and anxiety I had for my Hispanic and gay son after the 2016 election. The Hallmark ones were a needed break to put some humor into my life. If others enjoyed them, great. If folks want to know more, my inbox is always open.

What's one aspect of writing fic that gets you really excited?

Writing humor even if I'm the only one that finds it funny. As I said above, writing the Hallmark Christmas movie dialogue and plot and the actors as they were filming it was a blast. Writing the commercials was fun and exciting. In my angsty fics, knowing I wrote a good scene, line, or moment that brought out all the feels. That's more of “satisfaction of a job well done” than excited.

***

Check out Coffeegleek’s Fics

Humorous Spooky Drabbles -  Humorous drabbles to spookish type prompts based on a tumblr post called October Drabble Prompts #1 by hallofceleano. The parts in bold and italic are from those prompts. Characters include Kurt, Blaine, Burt, Carole, and Finn. All fun; only #4 has some mild angst. #4 is for snarkyhag and regarding #5 - I know next to nothing about Twilight and had to look up Taylor Lautner on imdb. The liberties I took are my own.

A Very Sloppy Christmas - lucy8675309 posted to tumblr a series of gifs with Kurt dressed up as an elf. It inspired me to write the following prompt, which CoffeeAddict80 encouraged me to write as a fic:

I now want a fic where real Santa’s elf!Kurt gets drunk and vents to Blaine about all the woes of working for Santa. He’s over 100 years old and the outfits are terrible. Why couldn’t they wear clothes like the elves did in that one movie? Drunk elf Kurt has no idea he’s venting to Santa’s son.

Bonus if he wakes up and realizes he just had a drunken one night stand. He isn’t sure who it was with. Only that he’s naked, the guy in the bed beside him is naked and showing off a really great ass. Then said guy turns over and after Kurt’s done staring at his dick, he looks at the guy’s face and realizes who it is.

It’s a Twisted World -  I decided to challenge myself by combining the posted 5 weekly Klaine AU Friday themes and adding another one of my own. So that means: Farm, Fairytale, Vintage (1900’s,) Super Powers, Zombie Apocalypse, and Harry Potter World Klaine with a splash of a fic idea I thought of while in the produce section of the grocery store. Each week, the story will continue, though each part stands alone. This is not a brilliant work of perfectly composed fan fiction. What it is, is fast-paced, cracky fun, with a large dose of innuendo. At least it had my son laughing his ass off. I hope y'all enjoy it too. :)

[fanficsandfluff]

Emotions Get the Better (13)

Okay okay. Artistic liberties so I’m pushing back the order of movie events to make room for some fluff. Y’all know I can’t write this long without a substantial amount of fluff. 

Also, it’s really fluffy

Like probably too fluffy

Enjoy!

~~~~

You woke up feeling well-rested enough. As you blinked your eyes open against the blazing morning sun, you knew there was a weird dream poking at your brain, and you were trying to remember. Something to do with Arthur in his clown getup, but you couldn’t remember what happened exactly. Oh well. 

You slung yourself out of bed and stood by the window, ogling because you hadn’t seen this much sun in Gotham in months. It was truly a sight to behold. You looked down at the streets below, seeing the day’s 9 to 5 workers bustling back and forth in large crowds. And you raised your eyebrows when you saw multiple clown masks among those average folk. Another protest? Oh right, Thomas Wayne was having a press conference somewhere nearby today in one of the official buildings. 

This clown thing ramped up very quickly. You never liked clowns, then you see one on the street, then you get to know him, and now anti-1% clowns are running around Gotham asking for justice. 

You didn’t have much planned today since you didn’t have work. Your theater was preparing for the gala that was coming up later that week, so they needed time to fix the place up. You knew you wanted to bake cookies at some point and you had to pick up refills on your prescriptions, but that was pretty much it. 

You got dressed and felt refreshed when the nipper air hit your skin the minute you stepped outside. Seasons were changing, and you were grateful for it. 

You walked the long walk to your pharmacy and pushed the door open, hearing the entry bell tinkle. You walked to the back of the store and put your name in, then stepped aside to wait for them to give you your refills.

And who would sidle up beside you from the pain medication isle but Arthur. You were nudged gently by said man standing very close beside you, so you looked up and smiled wide, “Hi!” you greeted him, probably a bit too enthusiastically. 

Arthur smiled back at you, “Hi. What’re you doing here?” he did his best to act innocently, as if he didn’t already know you came to this pharmacy for prescription drugs. 

You hadn’t had to confront him yet about your own bodily malfunctions, and it made you feel ashamed. So, you wound up not answering him right away, clearing your throat.

“Oh, just picking up some stuff. What about you?”

“Same. I’m getting the last of my, um, prescriptions.”

“Why the last?”

“They’ve stopped funding my social service program.”

You frowned, taken aback by the news, “Oh.... Arthur, I’m sorry.”

Arthur shrugged, “What can you do? No one feels for the little guy anymore.”

The pharmacist called Arthur’s name and he walked up to the counter. You stood there, feeling increasingly bad about his situation. Every single thing just seemed to go wrong for this poor man. And it wasn’t fair at all. 

Arthur stepped aside after he received his pretty hefty back of prescriptions, and you were next, taking yours and putting them away into your purse. 

“You busy today?” you asked.

Arthur seemed to think about it, “Um, no. But... But I promised my mother I’d make us dinner tonight.”

You smiled at that, “That’s sweet. Well, I was going to do some baking today. Cookies, mostly. You wanna come over and help? Afterwards, you can bring some home to your mom.”

Arthur’s face seemed to loosen at this request and his lips curved into a smile. He nodded, “Sure, I’d like that.”

“Great. Come, I gotta pick up some ingredients,” you didn’t know what possessed you, but you slid your hand comfortably into Arthur’s and tugged him along with you to the exit. It felt good to be more physical with him. And Arthur didn’t seem to mind at all, smiling goofily, looking down at your intertwined hands. 

You walked down the street with your hand in his, asking about how his mom was doing, if he was looking for another job. 

That’s when Arthur asked, “Do you have family?” which sounded like an odd question to you. Did you seem like that much of a loner?

“Yeah. None of them live in Gotham though. My mom lives out east more, in the nicer suburbs. And my dad lives in Chicago with his girlfriend. And I have two brothers, one older and one younger.”

Arthur seemed to stare at you a little differently while you were giving the brief rundown of your family and their whereabouts. Was it an incomprehension? Or jealousy? You couldn’t quite place his reaction when you looked up at him, but turned into the grocery store when you reached it, letting go of his hand finally and holding the door for him, “After you.”

Arthur appeared to have moved on and he nodded his head in thanks to you and stepped inside. 

You always loved the smell of the fresh baking bread in grocery stores. But money was getting tighter since you weren’t working as frequently, so you resisted the urge to pick up a fresh loaf of bread. You purchased all of your required ingredients and headed to your home.

“Alright, I’m so ready to get these cookies baking,” you said once you entered your apartment. You set the grocery bag down on the kitchen countertop, and Arthur followed by putting his down, as well. You threw off your coat and kicked off your shoes, tying your hair up as a final step.

“Do you bake?”

“No, not really.”

“Your mom never made anything for you or showed you how to bake something?”

Arthur shook his head, “She wasn’t really a cook.”

You nodded, “Alright, not everyone’s good at it. My mom was an awful cook growing up. I swear she was trying to poison my brothers and me sometimes.”

Arthur chuckled at the joke.

“This’ll be fun. If you and your mom like these cookies, maybe you can bake them yourself for her at some point.”

Arthur nodded, liking the idea.

You pulled out your measuring cups, bowls, and stirring tools needed to create the dough for the sugar cookies you wanted to bake. 

You told him to measure out 3 cups of flour as you went into the adjacent living room and flipped through your records to put on some music. You found one of the rock and roll records your dad gifted you a few years back and stuck the needle into it. 

“Okay, let’s do this,” you beamed when you walked back into the kitchen, clapping your hands together, “So whenever you’re baking cookies, it’s important to keep the dry ingredients separate from the wet ingredients.”

And you went on, explaining to Arthur step by step what to do and why. He seemed eager to learn and was nodding at everything you told him. 

“This is the part that always makes my hand hurt afterward, it requires a lot of manpower. So go for it,” you chuckled and instructed Arthur to slowly mix in the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients bowl. 

You watched his face mostly as he worked, seeing the determined jut in his brow. You saw him whisking up the flour a bit too fast, so it puffed up everywhere, sprinkling over your countertop and on him. 

“Sorry! I--”

“Ihit’s okay!” you giggled and stepped closer to him. You hooked an arm underneath his and started rolling up his sleeve for him, “Baking’s messy, that’s supposed to happen.”

Arthur seemed distracted by you rolling up his sleeves, but he resumed his mixing, slower this time. You smiled at him and when you took a step back, you realized just how much sexier Arthur looked with rolled-up sleeves. It added to his usual button-up shirt and sweater combo. You leaned closer to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek before you went to the other end of the kitchen in search of a rolling pin.

Arthur blushed hard and his head turned towards you when you administered the kiss. You were so easy to touch him and hug him and kiss him. Was he supposed to be the same towards you? Was he not reciprocating enough? Worry quickly encompassed Arthur’s mind seconds after feeling on cloud nine. That’s just what he did. 

You grabbed your large rolling pin and sauntered back over to Arthur, seeing he was finishing up the dough. You tapped the rolling pin on his ass teasingly, asking, “How’s it going?”

Arthur jolted at the touch, making you laugh. He eyed you, “I dunno, you tell me.”

You peered into his bowl and asked for the spoon from him. He handed it over and you started to finish kneading until it was perfect dough consistency, “Tada. You just made your first sugar cookie dough,” and you gave him a round of applause.

Arthur smiled, “That wasn’t so bad.”

“I know. Now, we gotta let this set up in the fridge for like twenty minutes to a half hour,” you bunched up the dough into a ball and wrapped it up in saran wrap, sticking it into the fridge carefully. 

You scraped your finger on the side of the bowl that used to contain the dough and licked it off, “Try some. Cookie dough is the most delicious thing on the planet.”

And Arthur followed your lead, tasting the granules of sugar and the slight saltiness and the smoothness. It was pretty tasty.

“Mmmm,” you moaned in happiness when you swiped the last of the dough from the bowl, “I’m excited for these.”

“Where’d you learn to cook?” Arthur inquired.

“I dunno. My dad was always the chef of the family, but he left when I was relatively young. I’m mostly self-taught. I went away to college so I had to fend for myself, and I didn’t have the money to eat out every day. So I learned to cook.”

You started putting dishes into the sink and soaking them. You offered, “And hey, if you ever wanna cook something at your own home, I can give you a few recipes. Oh, I have this one for grilled cheese,” you groaned in pleasure, “Oh, it’s fucking amazing.”

Arthur chortled, “I lihike that you’re so passionate about food.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure I look like I’m passionate about food,” you giggled, giving yourself a jab at your own weight. Nothing awful, just throwing it out there.

“You’re beautiful,” Arthur said sweetly, genuinely. Anytime he did those sudden extreme compliments, you flushed red. You just couldn’t help it. This time was no different. You didn’t really show any reaction when he said that, just ducking your burning face as you started washing dishes you wouldn’t be using anymore. Arthur leaned in close to your ear and he whispered, “You’re beautiful,” and that made you giggle bashfully.

“Ahalright, I get it. Thank you,” you turned your head and made eye contact. It seemed Arthur was waiting for you to look his way, being in such close proximity, and he kissed you on the lips. You kissed back for that brief moment and then smiled wide at him afterward. 

When you finished the dishes, you offered Arthur some tea. He accepted and you boiled water for the two of you so you could have tea in the meantime while waiting for the cookie dough to set up. You were telling Arthur about how nervous you were to be working the gala at Wayne Hall in two days. You heard they were planning a massive strike outside, and you didn’t know how much longer these protests would be ‘peaceful.’ But you really wanted to watch Modern Times with a live orchestra, so you said you’d suck it up. 

“Alright, time for the fun part,” you announced after a half hour had flown by, after you and Arthur had drank your tea. 

Arthur went with you back into the kitchen and observed you, standing close by. You stuck your hands into the flour bag and sprinkled some all over the cutting board, “Just throw the dough on there, please,” you requested.

Arthur did as he was told, plopping it onto the floured surface, “See, you do this so the dough doesn’t stick anywhere and get all messy,” you always seemed to have an itch on your face whenever your hands were indisposed, so you quickly swiped the back of your hand over your nose, getting a streak of flour there. Then you started working the dough into a slightly more malleable form. 

“You have some...” Arthur touched his own nose while looking at you, grinning.

“What?”

Arthur reached forward and flicked the flour off with his finger.

“Oho, thanks,” you smiled and got more flour onto your hands patting it onto the top of the dough before you swiftly reached up and pinched Arthur’s nose briefly, getting it coated with flour, as well. You laughed.

“Why?” was all Arthur said, clearly good-humored.

You kept giggling and shrugged, “I dunno, your nose is big.”

“My nose is big?” he reacted more outlandishly than you thought he would, making you laugh more. 

“Yeahahah.”

“I don’t think it’s that big,” he defended, wiping the flour from his nose.

You were busy rolling out the dough when you added, “Well, I think it works out. You gotta have a big nose to fit that red clown nose onto it,” and you laughed at your own joke more, even if it didn’t make any sense, “Oh my god, you should do your clown makeup with all cooking ingredients one day. Lihihike, like... flour for your face-- or whipped cream! You can just stick your face into whipped cream or something-- H-Hey! Arthur!” you were cut off when Arthur had come near you and started to pinch at your side. It was clearly meant to tickle.

“You’re so funny,” Arthur said honestly, “Especially when it’s at my expense,” he teased and continued to prod and squeeze. You tried to keep your hands on the rolling pin but that was failing fast.

“Arthur, wahahait!” you started to sink down onto the kitchen floor. Arthur took pity and he chuckled, stopping and pulling you to your feet instead.

“Dohon’t do that again,” you warned him, shooting him a look, but you were smiling so he knew you weren’t actually mad at him.

“Okay,” Arthur conceded easily and then added, “I’ll just do it again when you start talking about putting ketchup all over my lips next.”

That made you snort and you patted the dough once more, “Finished,” you reached across Arthur and grabbed the cookie cutter, “Press this all over the dough. It’ll make us nice round cookies,” you went and got the baking tray while Arthur was tasked with cookie cutting. 

Pretty soon, all the cookies were cut and laid out on trays. Then you slid them into the oven. 

“Nice,” you said, feeling proud of your work together. There was a moment of silence, of peacefulness, and you really enjoyed it. 

You scratched your nose again with not totally clean hands, not even looking at Arthur when you said, “Maybe blueberry jam for the eye makeup...”

And that was it. 

You squeaked and ran out of the kitchen when you saw Arthur immediately come towards you, with a clear mischievous intention. It was a futile effort; maybe because you weren’t fast enough, or maybe because you actually wanted to get caught. But Arthur had wrapped both arms around your waist, snagged you, and lifted you up as he plopped you onto the couch. My god was this man strong. You were already giggling by the time he straddled you. 

“Arthur, no no no no, wahait, I’m sorry--- WAIT!” you shrieked when he started to tickle your belly and sides with those stupid long, nimble fingers of his. 

“You never told me you were ticklish,” was what Arthur decided to say. 

“N-Never came up!” you started cackling when he went for pinching your ribs.

Arthur was swooning at the sight of you below him, red-faced, squirming, practically crying with laughter. 

“Nohohot fair! This isn’t FAIR!” you yipped and arched your back when he experimentally squeezed at your hip bone.

Arthur’s fingers were working of their own accord by this point, as his eyes were trained on your lovely face. Your hands would occasionally come down to swat at his attacking ones, but mostly they were clung to your chest. And Arthur felt such pride in the fact that he was eliciting this musical laughter from you, no other reason. 

Finally, he relented. His hand didn’t move from its place at your side but it had stopped tickling. You panted and coughed, letting your residual giggles die down. You felt his hand flinch, and you shot yours to it, “Noho more,” you breathed, gripping Arthur’s hand in your own. 

Arthur was past the point of smiling at you. He was staring at you with those big eyes of his and you finally wiped the tears in your eyes away enough to see him. He looked beautiful. You saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed and his eyes flickered to your lips.

You leaned up to give him permission and he was on you in an instant, kissing you so tenderly. You lifted one hand up and rested it on Arthur’s waist, and your other hand was touching his jaw. 

Everything was beautiful about this day. It started with the weather. Then the coincidence of running into Arthur, his free schedule, and your desire to be with him all lined up. Cookie baking turned into a one-sided tickle fight. And now here was this beautiful, beautiful man, inside and out, kissing your lips and your jawline and your neck on your couch, flour and sugar still making both of your hands sticky and your mouths taste sweet. You had both of your hands now cradling the back of Arthur’s neck, lightly tracing the base of his neck with your nails. Your lips were close to his ear, and you could hear him breathing. You pressed a few tiny kisses along his cheek. Then Arthur spoke. 

“I can smell the cookies.”

And a smile bloomed on your face.

[the-recusants-sigil]

Hello, hello! Thank you for the warm welcome!! <3 

OK so I absolutely ADORE this idea and I love writing for these four so so much!!  I couldn’t write just a couple of sentences and these turned into novel chapters, so I’m splitting your request into 4 parts. That way, I’m not just dropping a 10K word document on you asfhsfshfhsf

Here is Part 1 of your request- going numerically, that’d be Xigbar!

Thanks again for stopping by, I hope you like this one and the others to come!!

Xigbar

Words: 2388

-The mission started out simply enough. It definitely wasn't anything outlandishly difficult: just track down an overgrown Heartless, eliminate it, and report back. Absolutely no big deal.

-Except it WAS a big fuckin deal. There he was, wandering the Land of Dragons in the dead of winter, on the edge of hypothermia and certainly not thinking straight. Perhaps he was no longer capable of feeling emotions, but frostbite was another story entirely. He knew better than to RTC without finishing  a mission, so here he was,in the dark,  trudging through waist-deep dnowdrifts on a fucking mountain to find this stupid thing.

-Xigbar had been walking since he arrived that morning. In fact, he'd started out in a slightly warmer climate miles away at this point, and he'd briefly pondered taking off his jacket to cool off a bit despite the risks. Now, his teeth chattered violently and he wished with every fiber of his being for a fire. Just a small one, to warm his toes and keep his fingers firmly attached.

-In the faint light of the half-moon, he caught sight of something that stopped him dead in his tracks: a single, enormous footprint.

-Squinting into the darkness, he peered ahead and made out another, and another, heading up the mountain towards a small cluster of coniferous trees up ahead. Ah, shit. More walking.

-Before he could take a single step, a low, rumbling growl came from behind him. The Freeshooter turned, slowly, to face the biggest fucking Heartless he'd ever seen in his life.

-Glistening fangs, beady yellow eyes, twisted horns and inky black scales covered the thing. If he had to guess, Xigbar figured the thing was at least twelve feet tall and built like a tank.

-As he discovered, it was fast, too- even its eyes, glowing bright in the darkness, were impossible to track as the thing closed the distance between the two. It swiped at him with claws like kitchen knives and put him on the defensive immediately. No doubt, the beast had his number; at every point he warped to, it was waiting with jaws wide open, ready to crunch down. It batted him around, tossing him in the air and catching him in its jaws once it had its fun.

-Between the cold and the brutal sneak-attack, Xigbar found his energy fading fast. He raised his only free hand and squeezed his eye shut, focusing the last of his energy on getting somewhere, anywhere, safe.

-......

-....................

-Look, all you were trying to do was keep your head down and out of trouble. There were a lot of vibrant characters in San Fransisco, but all you cared about was doing well at your job and enjoying your ground floor studio apartment. Affordable housing of any kind was a rare luxury in the city, and you'd struck gold with a landlady who just wanted a good, responsible, quiet tenant. For her, you checked all the boxes.

-You certainly weren't looking to get involved with anyone else. Not platonically, not romantically, not even as roommates.

-And yet, here was this man leaned against your trashcan in the alley, bleeding everywhere and groaning. Despite the summer heat, he was dressed way up in a long black trenchcoat (torn to tatters though it was), trousers, knee length boots, and gloves.

-What was his deal?

-You'd never seen a dying person before. OK, so maybe he wasn’t dying. But as it was, if anyone else were to witness him in the alley, in front of your place, bleeding out with only you around, they might assume it was you who did it. Your brain short-circuited and, unable to fully think through the situation, you dragged the man inside your apartment and slid the patio door closed.

-So there you were, panicking inside your studio with an unconscious dying dude bleeding out on the floor. What would your landlord say? Would you ever get your deposit back for damaging the green shag carpet?

-At the very least, you figured you could ask him some questions when he woke up and help him contact the cops, in case he'd lost his phone. In the meantime, you put on a pot of coffee and watched the man sleep, contemplating his features. He was handsome, with nicely tanned skin and long, dark hair shot through with streaks of brown. A deep scar ran the length of one cheek, and the opposite eye was covered with an eyepatch. He sort of looked like an anime convention escapee, you thought, but then again, folks in the city proper were often just like this.

-”Ugghhh....” the man stirred gently, and you jumped. The single remaining eye fluttered open, and you were struck by the color: bright yellow, like your little Volkswagen Beetle parked outside. He glanced around slowly at first before sitting bolt-upright and grimacing. Perhaps he forgot about his injuries.

-”Uh... are you okay?” you asked dumbly. His head whipped around to meet you, and the intensity of his glare instantly made you feel... small.

-”Yeah, definitely, just dandy,” he grunted and waved flippantly in your direction. Steadying himself against the wall, he tried and failed to rise to his feet. The man raised a mangled hand into the air in front of him, ever so briefly, then sighed and let it drop to his side. “Can you... can you maybe tell me where exactly I am?”

-”Uh, I mean- it's, uh. My apartment. San Fransisco? California? Planet Earth?”   You licked your lips and sighed. “I found you in the alley. Did you get hit by a car?”

-”Car? What are you talking about? I don’t know what any of that means. I need to get home. I need to get out of here and report back- OWWWW!” Xigbar yelped as his second failed attempt at standing brought him closer to the ground.

-”No. I don't think so, Mister. You might have a concussion.”At that point, you'd already folded the spare futon down from its hiding spot in the wall and tossed down some spare pillows and blankets.

-“That means lots of rest. I thought they were worse, but your cuts don't actually look horrible. Let's get you cleaned up and laying down, then maybe we can get you an urgent care appointment to look at your head.”

-”No. No doctors.”

-”You religious, or scared or something?”

-”Er- yeah. Somethin' like that.”

-.............

-Xigbar really knew he should have RTC'd as soon as he was able to stand. He should have reported back a week ago. Yet here he was, truly a stranger in a strange land, crashing on this good Samaritan's couch, eating good food, and- for the first time in a really long time- relaxing.

-For him, some peroxide, butterfly bandages and ibuprofen were the trifecta- his wounds cleaned up nicely and the pain was definitely more bearable.

-You called out of work for the week shortly after he woke up, feeding them a line about your brother-in-law dying or some shit; you didn't have one, of course, but nobody had to know that. He told you his name was Xigbar, and that's really all you knew. The dude was tight-lipped to say the least.

-Xigbar went with you on every trip you took. At first, he was pretty wary of your little yellow Bug, but he warmed up to it pretty quickly- at least, until you dumped the clutch and stalled on a hill for the first time. He jumped like he thought the thing was trying to kill him, and you couldn't help but laugh.

-He went with you on trips to the grocery store. You showed him your favorite restaurant (and taught him how to talk to the server like a person rather than a barmaid). He sat next to you on the sofa as you pointed angrily at the TV and complained about some goings-on in your world. He helped you uncork a cheap bottle of Trader Joe's wine, then another, and another, and you ended up talking shit about your coworkers. For you, it was the guy who followed you all over the office and wouldn't leave you alone for anything. Xigbar offered to punch him as a show of gratitude, but you assured him that no, it was really okay, the guy was just a little weird.

-On the other hand, Xigbar's work stories were different. You surmised that his office was comprised entirely of... er, vibrant characters. Like, for instance, the one that ditched work every single day by hanging out in the break room right next to his manager. There was also the “gambling addict in denial”- according to Xigbar-  who had, just a few weeks ago, literally swindled the pants off of a man in a bar. And there was the one who could, and would, electrocute and stab anyone and everyone for the slightest of infractions.

-”Uh, dude. Have you talked to HR?”

-”...What's an 'HR'?”

-”Human Resources, duh!” you sighed dramatically.

-The loud, barking laugh that followed told you that he had not, in fact, talked to HR.

-.........................

-Six days had passed since you'd found Xigbar bleeding all over everything in your alley. Since then he'd improved dramatically, and when you could tell he was feeling well enough to stand on his feet, you decided that his seventh day with you would be devoted to seeing as many tourist attractions as possible together. The guy didn't have any memories, he told you, so you wanted to help him “start fresh” with as many happy ones as possible.

-This was, of course, a total lie: Xigbar remembered everything in his life, he liked to think, with the exception of how he got here. He was totally content to live the lie and continue following you around.

-In just a few days, something about you had grown on him. He couldn't quite place it, but it was something about your smile, your ripostes after his witty comments, the way your hair fell over your face when you slept, your tendency to rant and rave and scream at the endless city traffic... he didn't know what to do. For the first time in a long time, he was at a loss.

-You took him absolutely everywhere you could think of: a boat tour of the bay, a cable car ride up Telegraph Hill, a brief stop for brunch at a local bistro, gift store browsing, and finally a walk across the Golden Gate Bridge to watch the sun set. The roads were more peaceful than they normally were, even for a Sunday evening. Perfect, you thought.

-If Xigbar had a heart it would have been racing: being near him made his mind do backflips and twist itself into knots. He enjoyed being there, but more than he liked the sight of the setting sun, he loved the wind in your hair and the glimmer of joy in your eyes. Those beautiful eyes.... God dammit.

-”Hey, let's take a picture!”

-”Huh??”

-Before he could stop you, you'd produced your phone from your pocket and turned on the camera.

-You held the phone in front of the two of you, snapping a seies of pictures, and drew it close to examine. In all of them, Xigbar smiled even wider than you had- genuinely, not his usual, wolfish grin.

-He has such a nice smile, you thought.

-He peeked over your shoulder at the picture, too, and felt his chest tighten in a way he'd nearly forgotten.

-.......

-After that, Xigbar knew it was time for him to head back. Xemnas would surely drill him about his whereabouts. Xigbar thought it odd that he hadn't seen so much as a single Shadow in his time here. Even if the world was really as bad as you said it was, he supposed that a world yet untouched by darkness must have some kind of hope.

-The minute you got home, you printed out two copies of the picture of the two of you on glossy photo paper, each picture small enough to fit inside a wallet. He took it gratefully from you and turned it over in his hands, the tightness in his chest creeping back.

-”This has been a really great time. Thanks for takin' such great care of me. You really got a knack for it,” he started. Suddenly your chest, too, felt heavy. “But I really oughta get back to my life. Boss Man's gotta be wonderin' about me by now, ya know? Same with yours.”

-”Yeah... I guess so,” you sighed. It had been nice having him around, despite the rocky beginning. Your eyes swept over his lithe figure and settled on his face- angular, ruggedly handsome, and watching you intently for a follow-up to your response.

-”I'm actually going to miss you,” you admitted.  “Who's gonna sass me for running stop signs and stalling on hills? Or talk shit about my coworkers with me? I hope I get to see you again. Please don't be a stranger.”

-He reached forward, fingertips brushing over your face, and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You didn't brush him off when he laced his fingers through your hair, and when he pulled you in for a kiss, you grabbed his coat and pulled him in as close as you could.

-He drew away sooner than you would have liked. Than you would have both liked, really.

-”I'll make a point to stop back by, 'kay?” he assured you. With a sad smile, he lifted a hand and was surrounded by wisps of inky black and purple smoke. Just like that, he was gone.

-”W-what?” Wide-eyed, heart racing, you glanced around your apartment and resisted the urge to scream.

-”What the FUCK was that?!”

-.................

-As soon as Xigbar was back within the walls of the castle, he realized he'd fucked up.

-”Aww, shit!” There was no way she hadn’t seen the corridor of darkness, and there wasn’t really a good way to explain it, either.

-Mortified, and more than a little tired, he reached into his pocket and checked to make sure the picture was still there. Xemnas could wait until tomorrow; he'd sleep on his little snafu and figure out what to say the next time he visited you.

[pbandjesse]

Me, James, and Brandon just played onr game of Uno that lasted over an hour. Jesus that was a long game. Was fun even if i had to draw 39 cards at one point. Its nice to have friends here.

Today was a really fun day. But sleep last night got interrupted at like 3am when one of the shelves on the bookshelf collapsed abd everything crashed to the floor. It was a really really scary way to wake up. James picked up some of it and came back to bed. But sleep was hard for him after that. I don't remember what happended after the lights went off but when we got up in the morning i was still a bit unsettled.

We got up though and James made us pancakes witb blueberries. We got dressed and left here to catch the 1030 light rail to the state fair!

I like riding the train. So that was nice. And im glad we went earlier in the day because it wasn't to crowded. We got inside and went to see animals first! We saw a pig judging competition. And I made friends with some sheep. We saw many cows. It was fun. I like learning and seeing the 4H kids, and it was really interesting.

We did a few rides. A truly terrible haunted house. Very dumb. I wish it was longer bevause it was so dumb I wanted to see more of it. At least it wasnt neon like the one at the beach.

We had fair food. And walked around. We saw the pieces that won prices. I enjoyed the quilts a lot and want to do more in that. It was truly fun seeing all the folk art that is coming form Maryland. Its not something im specifically familisr with like i am with Pennsylvania folk art so its a fun new thing to learn.

We got a photo booth picture from a machine that didn't tell you wheb it took the pictures so that was annoying. Not our best set but I still am happy to have pictures of us together. And James bought me a very small bobble head deer, who I love. I loved people watching. And seeing the small history museum. And spending time with my favorite guy. Even if he wants to go on the scary rides.

We were there for a few hours. Until I was to sun tired and wanted to go home. We did play a couple free games and pet some taxidermy. But it was time to go.

We just missed the train, so we had to wait. But that was okay. Once the train came it was a nice ride back. We wandered to the grocery store and got things for James to make us a fancy dinner.

Gettibg back to the apartment took a while. But we made it. I took a shower and that helped me feel a lot better. We both hung out on our own couches. Doing our own things for a while. I have 2 solid commissions now! And 3 tenetive ones. So I did some emailing for logistics. And watched videos.

James made us garlic cheese flat bread as an appetizer, then some really amazing stuffed shells (he made the filling himself!!), and then he baked cheesecake inside of peaches for dessert. Everything was so good. He's such a good boyfriend.

I hung out and laid around. And eventually Brandon was here! And weve been playing games and hanging out. Its been a really great day.

We have another day together tomorrow. I hope its another good one. Goodnight everyone!!

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A Glimpse at Simple Homesteading Life in the 1800s

By Kathy Belt – In the September/October 2012 issue, a reader wanted to know what homesteading life in the 1800s was like. Here’s my reply. I am a bit of a history nut. I have spent many years engaged in accurate historical re-enactment. (Think Ren Faire but with no turkey legs.) So your question about what simple homesteading life in the 1800s looked like prompted me to write.

First—when talking about life in the 1800s, do you mean the early 1800s? Before the advent of canning, telegraph, railroads, and sewing machines? Or are you talking late the 1800s? If the latter—just talk to any member of an Amish community about their simple homesteading lifestyle. If you are talking about the early 1800s—that’s a completely different matter. I would recommend visiting historic Williamsburg, Virginia.

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There are numerous diaries that have been left behind by the folks who “traveled West” and the hardships of simple homesteading they endured; as well as diaries of those who “stayed behind” in the civilized world of chamber pots and chimney fires. Reading these diaries gives a very good insight into how people lived.

Are you interested in the day-to-day life of agrarian people as opposed to those who live in the city? If so—I recommend becoming a homesteader without electricity, power tools or indoor plumbing.

Also take away modern medicine, familiarize yourself with a healing herbs list and learn to recognize gangrene. Go to the grocery store for only flour, coffee, and sugar. Grow your own linen (hemp is preferable to flax for durability and comfort), and wool. Simple homesteading of this era means you learn how to knit, spin and weave, and use only your own feet (or those of a horse) for transportation. Dig your own well, do your own blacksmithing and starve in the winter when you’ve had a bad crop year.

If you truly want to try life in the 1800s, be expected to have 18-20 children, all born at home, and have half of them die before the age of five because of dysentery, typhoid, scarlet fever or measles. Be prepared to get up with the sun and read by the light of your drafty fireplace. (Yes, the Franklin stove was invented in the late 1700s, but it weighed so much, most folks who went west didn’t take it with them. Of course, if you stayed in one of the “big” cities, you would have access to whale oil or kerosene for your lights.)

Be prepared to slaughter pigs and use everything except the “oink.” (Think pickled pig’s feet.) And you had better spend all day Sunday at church.

Let’s see—what else—oh yes, hygiene. It didn’t exist. There was usually a pan with water in it (that you carried from the well in a bucket) for rinsing your fingers before meals and washing your face in the morning. Everyone washed in the same basin of water. There was one bathtub full of water that everyone used for their Saturday night baths.

And ladies—would you like to know the origin of the phrase “on the rag?” Just one of the many uses of the rag bag. I heard a nurse tell a story that happened in 1950. An old “bachelor farmer” came into the hospital and had to have both pairs of long johns cut off him. He had had them on so long, his hair was growing through them.

Babies wore cloth diapers (if they wore anything at all) and the diapers had to be boiled before hung on the line to dry. Yes, even in the winter. You’d hang them out so they froze, take them down and snap them so the water crystals would fly out, then bring them in and hang them from rope you strung from one side of the house to the other.

Clothes for the rest of the family? One dress for momma for church, and one dress for the rest of the week. One pair of pants and a shirt for poppa for church, and one outfit for him for the rest of the week.

The rest of the simple homesteading family— hand-me-downs. Clothes were remade and remade and remade until they ended up in the rag bag. Remember those funny pictures of baby boys wearing dresses? Yup! The ultimate in recycling. By the way ladies—there’s no underwear from the waist down—but there are chemise, corsets, corset covers, and then a blouse on top, and the skirts were multi layered—up to 16 layers.

Animal husbandry for simple homesteading? You’d better like being pecked by chickens, trying to solve mastitis without antibiotics, treating thrush (on your horses feet) with iodine, and trimming the hooves of everything that walks. Roosters need their spurs clipped, dogs need their claws shortened and so do cows, goats, horses, sheep and just about anything else you can think of except fish.

Don’t forget you should not drink water that is “downriver” from where the animals drink. And if you want your animals to work for you, they need to be fed before you are. You had better have good neighbors to swap seed and semen with. Remember, this is before artificial insemination and top seed companies. And animals are dangerous. Just because they are cute, doesn’t mean they are safe. Horses kick and bite. Bulls can gore you. A pig will eat you. Roosters’ spurs are sharp. I do hope you know how to sew up cuts and have alcohol (that you made yourself) to wash out wounds.

Housing. If you are living like a “pioneer,” expect a drafty cold house with snow on the bed, no glass in the windows and two rooms. One room is the bedroom, the other is for all other functions, including mending the harness, sharpening and oiling your tools, spinning, and weaving, cooking and relaxing in the evening.

If you were smart, you put in a loft (heat rises). Up there you will find two beds. One bed is for mom and dad and the baby, and the other bed is for everyone else. Half the heads on the pillows at the “head” of the bed and half the heads on the pillows at the “foot” of the bed. The bed will have ropes tied about every foot going across, and three or four ropes going from head to food. This is your “box spring.” Your mattress will be a piece of thick cloth (ticking) that is stuffed with straw or corn husks or something of that ilk. The featherbed (if there is one) goes on top to keep you warm.

If you are “city folk,” instead of simple homesteading you’ll have curtains around your bed to help keep body warmth in. You might be smart enough to make a house that has good chinking between the logs. In which case, you have to worry about “cabin fever”—which is really another name for carbon dioxide poisoning, because you haven’t opened the door enough to bring in oxygen after the fire and all the people use it all up.

Here’s something else you can do in your spare time—boiling the horns from the cows so they can be flattened and used to make into spoons and the “glass” in the lantern. That’s after you oil and mend all the harnesses, clean all the glass lanterns of their soot, and drop a live chicken down the chimney to break loose all the creosote. (Yes—I know folks who do it.)

Cooking. If you are living “out west,” you’ll be using dried buffalo dung for fuel. If you happen to live where there is plentiful wood, you get to chop down trees. As in, with an ax. There are saws, but most of them take two people. Look up bucksaw and “Swede” saw. Then you hitch up your horses to haul it out of the woods, chop it into smaller pieces, stack it and haul it into the house whenever you need heat. (Cooking, keeping warm, keeping the wool warm so it will spin, etc.) Ten cords of wood should last you a winter. A cord is 8′ x 8′ x 4′. With a chainsaw it takes me two weeks solid to cut 10 cords.

And the only food you have is what you grow or kill. If there is a drought or a flood, or the locusts hit your garden, or you get sick and can’t carry the water from the well to water the garden, you’re going to go hungry. By the way, you will probably only have two or three metal pans, a Dutch oven (or something that can be covered with coals), a frying pan and a boiling pan. (For 17 people, remember). In simple homesteading, lots of cooking is done in crockery or wrapped in leaves and stuck in the coals.

Expect to eat a lot of soup, especially for breakfast. And if it’s before the time of Napoleon, nothing canned. It’s all fresh, dried, salted, or fermented (think sauerkraut). Hopefully you have dug yourself a well wide enough you can keep stuff cool if you don’t have a springhouse or a root cellar. One of the reasons to make cheese is to use up all the milk you ended up with by milking by hand—after you weaned the calves. Another chore that isn’t fun—flour. If you grow your own grain, you’d better know the difference between a snath and a blade and how to sharpen the latter.

Have we talked about shoes yet? Before the American Civil War, there were no “left” and “right” shoes. Or rather, they weren’t made that way, but after wearing them often enough, they developed “left” and “right.” The country songs that talk about getting a “brand new pair” when the kids go off to school is pretty accurate—for the 20th century. Before that, you went barefoot most of the year. If you lived in the city and were a lady, you had satin slippers to go dancing in. Yes, satin material. No insole. No sole. Just a piece of satin material sewn into a slipper shape.

By the way, did I discuss disease yet? You know all those vaccines that are pushed on you as a child? All those were diseases that killed or crippled. Polio, measles, mumps, chicken pox, small pox, influenza, diphtheria, tetanus, typhoid, whooping cough, trench mouth, milk fever, goiters, warts, and worms. All those and all the “little” problems that we face such as arthritis, heart attacks, and diabetes, were out there with no cure. But there was opium!

Because of the high death rate among children, the “average” lifespan was 35. If you survived childhood, you had a good chance of living to be 60 or even 70. But by that time you were so worn out by all the work, you were ready. By the time you were 40 your skin was very wrinkled, you had lost most of your teeth, and every joint hurt—all the time.

Yup, life in the 1800s: the “good old days.” I’ll stick with homesteading today.

Two of my many sources are: America Eats, by Williams Woys Weaver, Museum of American FolkArt, Harper & Row Publishers, 1989 Everyday Life in the 1800s, by Marc McCutcheon, Writers Digest Books, 1993

Originally published in Countryside January / February 2013 and regularly vetted for accuracy.

A Glimpse at Simple Homesteading Life in the 1800s was originally posted by All About Chickens

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Appetite for Deception, The Best Guns N’ Roses Tribute Band: Concert Review and More…

Ok, truth be told, I had not planned on making it to this show. My parents suggested it but we’re going to be gone that weekend, but somehow, quite by chance, I ended up there anyway. And WOW, WHAT A SHOW!!!

Some of you have heard my story of seeing the real GNR back in 1992, and how it has always remained one of my favorite shows to this day… right up there with Nine Inch Nails on my list. I grew up in a musical family. One parent was an ex-rockstar. Now before you start thinking this made for a killer childhood of popularity and invites to every party, it wasn’t like that! They were strict, and we weren’t really allowed to tell peers about this… their rockstar days were over, settled into a quiet life and new careers.

Probably owing to their experience in the Rock N Roll world, they were strict in their parenting style. They were protective of me, naturally. Of course I grew up hearing stories of backstage parties with the members of Heart, private dinner parties with Stevie Nicks, etc. But for a musical family, MTV was woefully under perpetual parental control! “The state of music these days is awful anyway” I’d hear when there was a live concert airing on MTV, us kids wanted to see. And I was a young naive teenage girl learning to play guitar and with stars in my eyes. And my biggest starry eyes were for Axl Rose! My parents were appalled. “Oh God, she’s gonna go into the rock scene!” Lol.

But because my folks were protective, I had to beg for months to be allowed to see GNR live back then. I had to get good grades for 2 months. I had to all my chores. I even did some extra chores just to be safe. And finally they relented with some strict curfew rules. My entire high school class was basically going. I would be no exception.

But when we got tons of prank calls with some school mate blaring my parent’s song that was AGAIN on the stupid oldies rock station for “has beens,” and laughing then hanging up, only to repeat it again the next day, it did not make for a glorious childhood. My folks would get pissed. I was embarrassed that classmates did this whenever they heard the song. But when my folks played it at home for us kids at campfires, it was like our own private show! Beat that jerk bullies!

Looking back I realized my peers were jealous. But back then it felt like I was the biggest geek for having a “has been” for parents. But I loved them and admired their musical abilities until all of us kids were learning different instruments, and singing renditions of Puff the Magic Dragon around the bonfire on family camping trips.

I was never the stellar musician like my folks were. My skills were in singing, but I hadn’t discovered that at the time. I wanted to learn drums but my parents, fearing a LOT of endless loud banging noise, told my band teacher no, when he approached them at a school talent show asking if they would enroll a promising student in the music program. They needed a drummer and I wanted to learn. So I ended up on guitar and keyboard. But I had the best teacher at home! I just wasn’t disciplined enough, because I wanted to learn drums. Years later, I am now learning the drums finally. So the love of music, especially rock, was instilled in me.

I also grew up hearing lots of amazing stories of my parents opening for bands like Heart, dating members of The Turtles, and a lot of crazy rock n'roll stories. Let’s just say, my folks were the most popular on my school’s Career Day when parents came to discuss their professions. Lol. But after that I got bullied relentlessly for having the parents I had.

My siblings were too young to go to that awesome show back in 1992, just after the GNR riots had been all over the media. My folks feared the crowd would get violent… it was a possibility! I had 6th row seats and couldn’t have been more excited for one of my first concerts when sophomore year came around. But my siblings finally got to see them live just this past year on their reunion tour, which I missed. So this Tribute band show made up for that in a big way. Oh now my folks will inform me about good shows to see… I think they’ve given up on trying to keep me away from the music scene, and we’re all older now. My folks are honestly much cooler and fun to go to live shows with. In fact it was my parents who told me about this GNR Tribute show, and said I should go and they would too except they had prior obligations, but that the band was a notable good one they liked. So with their vote of confidence, I entered.

At the show, the venue was packed! It was like 1992 all over again! The fans looked like the same fans aged 20 years still in their GNR t-shirts and sexy black dresses.

The venue was packed! And I mean packed. Nursing a leg injury, I needed a spot to sit… so, having been to over 200 live shows during my lifetime, a few tricks came in handy. “Weave and duck, weave and duck, find a nook on the side of the stage and park it there! Find a sitty-spot! THEN, GET ALL THE FOOTAGE!!!” The roady saw me struggling at my first live show in a while, and allowed me to sit on the side of the stage for the show due to my injury. They actually gave up tbeir seat ON the stage where they were watching the show, which was truly kind, as I was in pain, and I ended up getting what is probably this band’s best footage ever! You’re welcome you awesome guys. And I remember it feeling so much like the real band, not nearly as cheesy and cliche as I thought, more people should know about this awesome band. So I decided to turn what would have just been some random live footage posted, into an entire review article and interview with the band, which they were gracious enough to (I’ve only ever seen 2 tribute band shows… both disappointing, so didn’t pursue it.)

During the show, Axl Rose, played meticulously by the handsome Mark Thomas, made a comment about looking for more live footage from fans from previous shows. Welp… I had TWO devices on me, DONE! He showed off the same impressive vocal range that Axl himself has, which isn’t easy to pull off. What women know as a beautiful haunting combination of loud screaming and low register soulful notes, Mark knocked it out of the ballpark. He even INSISTED on paying for his post-show drink, even when it was offered on the house. Now, that I had never seen in all my years of attending shows, and probably impressed me just as much as his singing and swaying… yes he does the whole Axl sway and leg kicks, and yes it’s HOT!

I was a bit late to the show, but arrived just in time to hear literally all of my favorite GNR songs. Btw, since coming from a grocery store, I had to bring a bag of food in with me, and have the guys behind the bar keep an eye on it for me… I hope whoev at the venue who stole my Halloween cookies, enjoyed them!!! 😡 I will now call you the Bob Guccione of the night bruh! Bad form dude. But now the world knows. I love your venue, your pool tables need some work, your drinks are great, your food is bomb, so eat yer own food, not mine! I lost My cookies at this show, and not for the typical reason a concert-goer does. I WANT MY COOKIES BACK!!! Thank God my other snacks made it home.

This was definitely a Use Your Illusion Era show set, which Mark later told me they don’t always play so much material from these albums, but are admittedly his favorites… the audience agreed. He wasn’t out to just play every notable number one single from GNR, they played songs you could tell, they loved themselves and sounded good together on. And Mark, as Axl, told the story of each song in between. I haven’t seen that done since seeing Stevie Nicks (another Bucket List band I waited my whole life to see, after hearing stories of her in the music scene growing up). Mr. Thomas even made the classic “Rocket Queen” joke about how he “effed another band member’s girlfriend” for the song tracks. This was one song I was excited to hear, as the original GNR never played it back in 1992 that night.

But my favorite GNR era has got to be the Use Your Illusion era. The musical composition was at its very best, mixing classical piano into rock ballads that went for almost ten minutes and left you scratching your head as to its meaning. I mean why did GNR need dolphins (which were actually porpoises) for their Estranged video? Dolphins don’t swim around downtown LA… unless someone knows something I don’t about the area? 🤔

Their rendition of Estranged had me transfixed and I really believed I was back in ‘92 watching GNR play on that stage again. Mark did the classic side-to-side jaunt Axl is known for. He wore the headband. He reluctantly gave “Slash” all of his due solos. Slash, played by Brandon Cook, has a music degree, and agreed to talk to me after the show for this article, and pose for some killer still shots. He also can play bass, I learned later. He had the same guitar Slash uses, that beautiful Les Paul I’ve been wanting my whole life, so much ogling of instruments did occur. Lol. And the top hat must get hot during shows.

Since I’m learning how to play drums, I payed particular attention to “Matt Sorum,” played by Andrew Greene… I am nowhere near that good yet but I can appreciate a good drum solo by a trained player! He just inspired me to practice harder… got those paradiddles down now yo! I was also envying his drum set. When Paradise City hit its chorus, he showed his skills and made the song, even though it was originally played by Steven Adler not Mat Sorum. People always say that Steven Adler was the powerhouse player and Mat Sorum more technical, so of course whoev played this set had to be both, and he was. And it was amazing to watch.

During our interview, Mark said it was their Izzy Stradlin, played by Michael Killian who was the one who posted for auditions for a GNR tribute band on Craigslist that made this band of amazing musicians a reality. He apparently had some sunset strip under his belt from the same era, which is always nice to hear in a tribute band. That they know the genre and area it comes from, and the culture of the times, to portray live on stage.

Throughout the show, I got the chance to speak with several fans in the audience. Some of them had seen this band before and said they were in rare form this night. Others traveled from other places to see the show, as seasoned fans. They sounded great! For a smaller venue, where the sound can be a bit iffy for live performers, this band, being professional, had it worked out so every note came through beautifully.

I didn’t know much about this band, except for my parents saying they were good. And I trust their judgement obviously. So at home after the show I did some digging to learn more about them for this article. They also played with Jeremy Walker as Duff. The day they all arrived at the audition for this band, Mark commented it was their preparedness of the material, and how good they all sounded together at the initial audition despite having never even met, that gave this band that extra spark of something special that translates well to fans. It’s called Chemistry, and not every band has it so naturally as these guys do! So if you ever get the chance to see Appetite for Deception, do so. You’ll love it.

When it came time for audience participation during Paradise City, the venue lit up and everyone chipped in. Mark Thoma, as Axl, held the exact same mic out over the audience, and I’m betting the voices filled the entire city block! People were clapping and singing along and cheering… a few of you especially rowdy fans managed to sneak cameos into my footage with devil horns in the air. Lol. It got wild. And we were all old school rockers now. Needless to say it was a fun night of nostalgia and I’m glad I went.. it was actually better than the real GNR show the month before sound-wise, and I did not expect to say that after comparing footage. And I still envy Slash’s guitar to this day… hey if you ever wanna sell bruh, look me up.

Songs played ran the course of GNR’s musical career, from their Appetite days, with Paradise City, to Don’t Cry, and one of my favorites Knockin on Heaven’s Door, as the audience participated in the chorus. I loved their Estranged, where yes, I did imagine porpoises swimming around downtown LA for some strange reason. And of course Rocket Queen is always a crowd favorite. I never got to hear it back in 1992 when the real band played. At the time I remember being a bit upset one of their more controversial songs hadn’t made the set list, so bucket list item: check!… I must have missed Sweet Child O Mine during this tribute show somehow, but I arrived a bit after the show started, cuz the checkout line for my cookies ran longer than expected.

And thanks Uber driver for waiting and getting me to the show, and not being a creep. That always helps!

Look for the other projects by these band members: Steelhorse – Bon Jovi Tribute, SOS – Motley Crue Tribute, Jukebox Heroes – Foreigner Tribute, Bad Ellie – Original project, The Penalty – Original project, Sovereign – Original project, BAM – Acoustic Trio.

The band would also like to thank Jason Fellman of J-Fell Productions. He has a full lineup of other good tribute acts I hear!

Mark Thomas "Axl," also has a petition you might be interested in signing, if you are an animal lover like the rest of us: https://www.change.org/p/theresa-may-mp-stop-this-evilness-and-save-the-elephant-species/fbog/810582541?recruiter=810582541&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=facebook&utm_campaign=psf_combo_share_initial.combo_new_control_progress_bar&utm_term=autopublish&pt=AVBldGl0aW9uAPH8vQAAAAAAWdb7SR%2BCrnVmMWIyODI1Ng%3D%3D%3Frecruiter%3D807962854

You can find out more at http://j-fell.com/ For booking shows in other states, Mark Thomas does the bulk of communicating and planning for those gigs. They are all availble on Facebook at: https://m.facebook.com/AppetiteForDeception/ And: http://www.j-fell.com/a4d/

[josephkitchen0]

A Glimpse at Simple Homesteading Life in the 1800s

By Kathy Belt – In the September/October 2012 issue, a reader wanted to know what homesteading life in the 1800s was like. Here’s my reply. I am a bit of a history nut. I have spent many years engaged in accurate historical re-enactment. (Think Ren Faire but with no turkey legs.) So your question about what simple homesteading life in the 1800s looked like prompted me to write.

First—when talking about life in the 1800s, do you mean the early 1800s? Before the advent of canning, telegraph, railroads, and sewing machines? Or are you talking late the 1800s? If the latter—just talk to any member of an Amish community about their simple homesteading lifestyle. If you are talking about the early 1800s—that’s a completely different matter. I would recommend visiting historic Williamsburg, Virginia.

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There are numerous diaries that have been left behind by the folks who “traveled West” and the hardships of simple homesteading they endured; as well as diaries of those who “stayed behind” in the civilized world of chamber pots and chimney fires. Reading these diaries gives a very good insight into how people lived.

Are you interested in the day-to-day life of agrarian people as opposed to those who live in the city? If so—I recommend becoming a homesteader without electricity, power tools or indoor plumbing.

Also take away modern medicine, familiarize yourself with a healing herbs list and learn to recognize gangrene. Go to the grocery store for only flour, coffee, and sugar. Grow your own linen (hemp is preferable to flax for durability and comfort), and wool. Simple homesteading of this era means you learn how to knit, spin and weave, and use only your own feet (or those of a horse) for transportation. Dig your own well, do your own blacksmithing and starve in the winter when you’ve had a bad crop year.

If you truly want to try life in the 1800s, be expected to have 18-20 children, all born at home, and have half of them die before the age of five because of dysentery, typhoid, scarlet fever or measles. Be prepared to get up with the sun and read by the light of your drafty fireplace. (Yes, the Franklin stove was invented in the late 1700s, but it weighed so much, most folks who went west didn’t take it with them. Of course, if you stayed in one of the “big” cities, you would have access to whale oil or kerosene for your lights.)

Be prepared to slaughter pigs and use everything except the “oink.” (Think pickled pig’s feet.) And you had better spend all day Sunday at church.

Let’s see—what else—oh yes, hygiene. It didn’t exist. There was usually a pan with water in it (that you carried from the well in a bucket) for rinsing your fingers before meals and washing your face in the morning. Everyone washed in the same basin of water. There was one bathtub full of water that everyone used for their Saturday night baths.

And ladies—would you like to know the origin of the phrase “on the rag?” Just one of the many uses of the rag bag. I heard a nurse tell a story that happened in 1950. An old “bachelor farmer” came into the hospital and had to have both pairs of long johns cut off him. He had had them on so long, his hair was growing through them.

Babies wore cloth diapers (if they wore anything at all) and the diapers had to be boiled before hung on the line to dry. Yes, even in the winter. You’d hang them out so they froze, take them down and snap them so the water crystals would fly out, then bring them in and hang them from rope you strung from one side of the house to the other.

Clothes for the rest of the family? One dress for momma for church, and one dress for the rest of the week. One pair of pants and a shirt for poppa for church, and one outfit for him for the rest of the week.

The rest of the simple homesteading family— hand-me-downs. Clothes were remade and remade and remade until they ended up in the rag bag. Remember those funny pictures of baby boys wearing dresses? Yup! The ultimate in recycling. By the way ladies—there’s no underwear from the waist down—but there are chemise, corsets, corset covers, and then a blouse on top, and the skirts were multi layered—up to 16 layers.

Animal husbandry for simple homesteading? You’d better like being pecked by chickens, trying to solve mastitis without antibiotics, treating thrush (on your horses feet) with iodine, and trimming the hooves of everything that walks. Roosters need their spurs clipped, dogs need their claws shortened and so do cows, goats, horses, sheep and just about anything else you can think of except fish.

Don’t forget you should not drink water that is “downriver” from where the animals drink. And if you want your animals to work for you, they need to be fed before you are. You had better have good neighbors to swap seed and semen with. Remember, this is before artificial insemination and top seed companies. And animals are dangerous. Just because they are cute, doesn’t mean they are safe. Horses kick and bite. Bulls can gore you. A pig will eat you. Roosters’ spurs are sharp. I do hope you know how to sew up cuts and have alcohol (that you made yourself) to wash out wounds.

Housing. If you are living like a “pioneer,” expect a drafty cold house with snow on the bed, no glass in the windows and two rooms. One room is the bedroom, the other is for all other functions, including mending the harness, sharpening and oiling your tools, spinning, and weaving, cooking and relaxing in the evening.

If you were smart, you put in a loft (heat rises). Up there you will find two beds. One bed is for mom and dad and the baby, and the other bed is for everyone else. Half the heads on the pillows at the “head” of the bed and half the heads on the pillows at the “foot” of the bed. The bed will have ropes tied about every foot going across, and three or four ropes going from head to food. This is your “box spring.” Your mattress will be a piece of thick cloth (ticking) that is stuffed with straw or corn husks or something of that ilk. The featherbed (if there is one) goes on top to keep you warm.

If you are “city folk,” instead of simple homesteading you’ll have curtains around your bed to help keep body warmth in. You might be smart enough to make a house that has good chinking between the logs. In which case, you have to worry about “cabin fever”—which is really another name for carbon dioxide poisoning, because you haven’t opened the door enough to bring in oxygen after the fire and all the people use it all up.

Here’s something else you can do in your spare time—boiling the horns from the cows so they can be flattened and used to make into spoons and the “glass” in the lantern. That’s after you oil and mend all the harnesses, clean all the glass lanterns of their soot, and drop a live chicken down the chimney to break loose all the creosote. (Yes—I know folks who do it.)

Cooking. If you are living “out west,” you’ll be using dried buffalo dung for fuel. If you happen to live where there is plentiful wood, you get to chop down trees. As in, with an ax. There are saws, but most of them take two people. Look up bucksaw and “Swede” saw. Then you hitch up your horses to haul it out of the woods, chop it into smaller pieces, stack it and haul it into the house whenever you need heat. (Cooking, keeping warm, keeping the wool warm so it will spin, etc.) Ten cords of wood should last you a winter. A cord is 8′ x 8′ x 4′. With a chainsaw it takes me two weeks solid to cut 10 cords.

And the only food you have is what you grow or kill. If there is a drought or a flood, or the locusts hit your garden, or you get sick and can’t carry the water from the well to water the garden, you’re going to go hungry. By the way, you will probably only have two or three metal pans, a Dutch oven (or something that can be covered with coals), a frying pan and a boiling pan. (For 17 people, remember). In simple homesteading, lots of cooking is done in crockery or wrapped in leaves and stuck in the coals.

Expect to eat a lot of soup, especially for breakfast. And if it’s before the time of Napoleon, nothing canned. It’s all fresh, dried, salted, or fermented (think sauerkraut). Hopefully you have dug yourself a well wide enough you can keep stuff cool if you don’t have a springhouse or a root cellar. One of the reasons to make cheese is to use up all the milk you ended up with by milking by hand—after you weaned the calves. Another chore that isn’t fun—flour. If you grow your own grain, you’d better know the difference between a snath and a blade and how to sharpen the latter.

Have we talked about shoes yet? Before the American Civil War, there were no “left” and “right” shoes. Or rather, they weren’t made that way, but after wearing them often enough, they developed “left” and “right.” The country songs that talk about getting a “brand new pair” when the kids go off to school is pretty accurate—for the 20th century. Before that, you went barefoot most of the year. If you lived in the city and were a lady, you had satin slippers to go dancing in. Yes, satin material. No insole. No sole. Just a piece of satin material sewn into a slipper shape.

By the way, did I discuss disease yet? You know all those vaccines that are pushed on you as a child? All those were diseases that killed or crippled. Polio, measles, mumps, chicken pox, small pox, influenza, diphtheria, tetanus, typhoid, whooping cough, trench mouth, milk fever, goiters, warts, and worms. All those and all the “little” problems that we face such as arthritis, heart attacks, and diabetes, were out there with no cure. But there was opium!

Because of the high death rate among children, the “average” lifespan was 35. If you survived childhood, you had a good chance of living to be 60 or even 70. But by that time you were so worn out by all the work, you were ready. By the time you were 40 your skin was very wrinkled, you had lost most of your teeth, and every joint hurt—all the time.

Yup, life in the 1800s: the “good old days.” I’ll stick with homesteading today.

Two of my many sources are: America Eats, by Williams Woys Weaver, Museum of American FolkArt, Harper & Row Publishers, 1989 Everyday Life in the 1800s, by Marc McCutcheon, Writers Digest Books, 1993

Originally published in Countryside January / February 2013 and regularly vetted for accuracy.

A Glimpse at Simple Homesteading Life in the 1800s was originally posted by All About Chickens