#which was handmade locally and bought from a pride show | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 4 years

Text

Rubber Ducky

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Word Count: ~6.3k Notes: I was totally inspired by RDJ’s latest insta post! Between the motorcycle, gray hair, big ole’ combat boots, and the rubber ducky - it was hard not to write about it. Add on S’s insatiable need for that silver fox goodness and here we are! Warnings: There’s some smut in here, but that’s about it. Summary:

Born to old money, Tony is in the limelight simply because he exists. After a misunderstanding caught on video, he's personified as a spoil socialite & no matter what he does, he can't escape the title. Instead of letting it get him down, Tony uses it to his advantage - if anyone were to find out what he really did with his life, his reputation would be ruined. No one needed to know that he threw clay for a living or that one of the most successful ceramic business belongs to him.

When things become to much to handle on his own, Tony reluctantly takes on a personal assistant by the name of Peter Parker.

Preconceptions are a funny thing - Peter finds out just how nefarious they can be when he gets to see the real person behind the Tony Stark public persona.

Or: the one where RDJ and a rubber ducky serve as the best muse.

Read it on AO3 here.

In hindsight, Tony should’ve known his reputation would come from a spectacular misunderstanding.

In the early years, Tony was not nearly as schooled in maintaining his composure – especially when he deemed himself correct. One misunderstanding caught on camera later and he was officially known as “Manhattan’s Spoiled Brat” to every major gossip rag and tabloid that could get their hands on information to print about him; true or otherwise.

From that point on, no matter what he actually did, Tony’s movements in the media were always framed with the perception of spoiled, outlandish, and in some circles, downright rude. It didn’t matter that before the paparazzi ambushed him outside of his apartment, he spent the morning setting up some private dog walking for the local shelter dogs. He couldn’t ever pull the trigger on actually adopting one – but he digressed. Those out for a story and a story only took their photos, heckled him, and reported half-truths and words taken out of context.

Despite the initial turmoil over it, Tony found himself with a lot more free time in the sanctity of the space he called his own. Other socialites didn’t want anything to do with him – the mere thought of being out papped drove them all mad. To avoid too much attention, Tony took his peer[s dismissal and ran with it – if a bad reputation got him the privacy that he sought, why wouldn’t he take advantage of it.

It all seemed to work out in his favor, because if his fellow socialite peers ever found themselves privy to his actual occupation, Tony knew he could count himself on the list of social outcasts that no one talked about – in fact, the few people he knew like that weren’t even spoken about in the circles he was forced to affiliate himself with. Being old money had so many advantages, but in the long term, Tony could have easily done without it.

Never one to care about the money, unless it was supposed to be caught on camera in some way shape or form, Tony enjoyed his solitude and the time he had to chase after his one true passion – pottery.

The addiction started halfway through his time at MIT. Desperate to escape the confines of his dorm and the information that didn’t interest him in the least, Tony found himself wandering the streets of Cambridge, his eyes wide and peeled for the bright shine of cameras being clicked. In his slow meanderings, Tony caught the sight of an interesting looking woman, the dreads in her hair and the big pot in her hands dragging him in. And when she felt his presence, instead of getting upset, she shot him a smile and slowed her step – the woman obviously not afraid of Tony’s attention.

He ended up walking half a mile a couple of steps behind the unnamed woman, the pot in her hands becoming more and more interesting the longer he got to look at it. The workmanship of it was obvious, the lines were neat and the dip of the pot perfectly symmetrical around the rim. Not for the first time, Tony marveled at the intense beauty of handmade work – he longed to work with his hands in the creation process. His father wanted him to put that energy into machines and technology that would further their wealth. Tony, on the other hand, he just wanted to create – no pressure, no expectation… just creation.

The building they stopped in front was all open space with big windows. Locking eyes with the woman, Tony rushed ahead of her and opened the door, holding it and his breath as she walked through the door. Upon entering, Tony noticed the multiple rows of what he knew to be pottery wheels, each one of them gleaming in the wash of sunlight that flowed in from the streets. Sucking in a breath, Tony had to stop himself from gravitating towards one.

A soft voice turned him around, his heart beating wildly – in the moments since walking in, Tony completely forgot the woman was there. “The dedication you showed in following me here is more than enough for me. Do you want to learn?” the still unnamed woman asked, her cheeks crinkling in the corner as a smile overtook his face.

It didn’t take but an extra second for the excited ‘yes’ to slip out of his mouth. He understood an opportunity when it was presented to him and didn’t want to squander it.

Without saying anything else, the woman walked by him, sat down at one of the wheels and looked expectantly at the one next to her.

From there, Tony found in himself natural talent and a burning desire to learn all he could about the craft. Despite having the means to buy his own wheel and supplies, Tony returned to Nona’s, the old woman insisting he call her nothing but. Over the course of the last two years of his undergraduate degree, Tony split his time between uninteresting studies and the maddening obsession of wet clay and the never-ending possibilities the potters wheel could bring.

The art brought him joy and when he graduated and Nona gifted him his very own wheel and her blessing of finally being ready, Tony took to it with a passion he never experienced before. No one in his circle would understand the desire to get his hands dirty or create something that could easily be bought at some auction, or fancy gallery opening. So, he kept it a secret – the thing he treasured most in the world was his and his alone.

That trend continued for many years after that. In order to keep up his expected persona, Tony put himself in the public’s eye a few times a year to cause a ruckus, whether it was with scandalous photos he manipulated himself, or a random appearance in a place he was supposedly blacklisted from. And between those times, Tony threw clay and created a whole line of masterpieces that culminated into a pretty popular business.

As his talent and the demand for his work grew, Tony let the smallest bit of pride settle deep within him. Despite not being satisfied with the way the world saw him, his most favorite piece of himself was flourishing – and on his own merit, nonetheless. Making something out of himself away from his father’s money meant so much and each step he took towards that brought him a peace he wasn’t sure would ever exist for him.

After almost 10 years of being in business, Dirty’s Pottery was finally unmanageable by himself – especially if Tony wanted to keep the anonymity of the business. No matter how much he didn’t want to bring in another person into the folds of his life, Tony knew he needed the help.

Which is why, when Peter Parker walked into his life, Tony was thrown so off guard. For most of the morning leading up to the interview, he felt a sliver of dread start to worm its way into the confines of his chest. Just seeing someone for a position like this took an amount of trust that Tony had not ever given to anyone – ever – in his entire life. The need for it was the only reason he forced himself to get his shit together and actually give the guy a chance at actually getting the job.

His entire attitude changed when he caught the glance of milk chocolate eyes that shone, well-kept facial hair, and a smile that so obviously hid a beautiful personality behind the lengths of it. In that moment, Tony wondered about so many things – where did this guy come from, how did he walk around in those pants without getting hit on with every step, and his favorite – what could he do to get this person to stick around. All of that without a single word being exchanged between them.

When Peter finally did start to speak, Tony couldn’t help but get lost in the interesting human sitting in the chair next to him. Instead of making it a formal affair, Tony poured them coffee and nestled into the remaining chair in the small office Tony kept slightly clear in his workshop. He went so far as to start the conversation with a question totally off the wall, which Peter answered with ease and kickstarted what turned out to be a couple hours’ worth of back and forth between the two of them.

It was obvious, in the way it took Peter a little while to open up to him, that his reputation proceeded him. Before Peter even walked in the door, he was looking at him a certain way – and Tony couldn’t wait to do everything in his power to prove that perception wrong. In true Tony Stark nature, Tony started by finishing their conversation out in the main room of the studio, his hands covered in red clay, the length of his hair pushed back with a bandana he’d taken to wearing over the last few months. The interested eyes that watched his hands with fascination brought a smile to his face and the job offer to the tip of his tongue.

“The job – it’s yours if you want. You’re smart, capable – the experience you came in with is amazing. I’d be pretty stupid to not snatch you up while I have the chance. But hear this now,” Tony said, his voice dipping. “If you fuck with me, I’ll ruin you. Understood?”

An awkward chuckle was his answer, Peter’s eyes flashing with some sort of feeling as he nodded his head. “Understood, Mr. Stark. This is a big opportunity for me – I wouldn’t screw that up for 5 minutes of media attention.”

And just like that, Tony was sold. He extended a clay covered hand out, a challenging quirk to his brow as he looked up, his own cognac colored eyes meeting Peter’s after a moment. “Cut the Mr. Stark shit, it’s just Tony.”

Grinning, Peter returned the handshake, his soft hand wrapping around Tony’s like it fit there, like if he let himself think about it, Tony could’ve sworn it’d been there his whole life. The contrast of wet clay and pale skin did something to him – something that, after 45 years of life, Tony couldn’t remember experiencing ever before.

----

It took a while, coaxing Peter from whatever picture he painted in his head about Tony and what he knew about him. The first few months together were tense – when they attempted their first staged photo for the public eye, Peter looked at him skeptically, as if the entire situation was crazy. Then, Tony stepped in front of the camera and pulled his mask on, his expression and demeanor changing to suit the air and attitude needed to portray the spoiled persona he’d been keeping up for years now.

The click of the camera was rapid, like the change in Tony was just as eerie for Peter as it was for the man himself. He turned and smiled and smoldered enough to make sure he had a few pictures to play with over the next few weeks, then dropped the whole act the second he could – Tony more than glad to be done with this part of his act until the next need for it came to be. Shrugging his shoulders and letting the conceded air rush from him, Tony shot Peter a smile – his assistant’s facial expression telling him much more than he needed to know.

“It is just an act, isn’t it? I’ve never seen someone put on another skin like that before,” Peter mumbled, his ears a little red from the blush that slowly spread down his cheeks with every word. His long fingers fiddled with the dial of the camera, brown eyes down casted in what Tony could only assume was apprehension or embarrassment.

“Everyone does it, Pete. Sometimes, it’s just more necessary than others. I had one little mishap and all of the sudden, I was painted as something that I’m not – something that I never will be. No matter what I did after that, things didn’t change. So, I use it to my advantage. Put a little chum in the water for the sharks every now and again and live my life the way I want it in between.” Tony shrugged then, his hands already working to take off the stupid jacket that pinched between his shoulders.

Peter was quiet for a few minutes, the two of them moving around each other in the slightly uncomfortable silence. “I’m just a kid from Queens. I couldn’t even imagine what that’s like. I probably would’ve taken the opportunity you did, too. It sucks you have to be someone different, but I get it.” A soft smile could be seen on his face, the look one of Peter’s that Tony quickly became enamored with – the shine of it hitting him in the gut, supplying him with his next bit of energy from all the goodness hidden within it.

Though it wasn’t monumental, things between them changed. While Peter used to come and go without much fanfare, Tony was surprised when he started to stick around a little longer after their work was done for today. Where the conversation could easily be described as stilted before, words started to flow between them easily – now that the damn was broken, it was like there was no stopping the conversations that could so easily exist.

And they did, flow easily. Peter graduated from Columbia with an Economics degree – a career field he quickly understood was not for him after two years in a job that he absolutely hated. The shared hatred for what they studied in college opened up the door for actual passions, ones in which Tony quickly came to find that Peter had many of. Including pottery, though he never did anything aside from buying it until coming to work for Tony.

“Your coffee cups are actually why I wanted this job,” Peter admitted out of the blue, the two of them settled on the soft couch in Tony’s living room after a long day of boxing and shipping orders. “When I first started college, I was dirt pour – living the dream, you know. I got the short end of the stick in housing and ended up having to find my own apartment. It was a shit hole, but I had a Dirty coffee mug to drink out of every day – so things couldn’t have been as glum as they really were. For some reason, I thought of that when I saw the ad – felt compelled to apply.”

Shifting a little, Tony let their shoulders brush – the physical contact between them also flourishing now that Peter didn’t think he was such a piece of shit. He leaned in, applying the slightest bit of pressure to the firm deltoid he felt through Peter’s shirt. “And now you get to drink out of them whenever you want,” Tony remarked, the joking tone of his voice pulling a smile from them both. “Never thought you’d run into me when you signed up for this gig, did you?”

“I didn’t. Honestly, when I saw it was you, I almost turned around and walked right out the door. If it wasn’t for the way you look sitting behind the potters wheel, I might’ve done exactly that.”

A chuckle fell from Tony’s lips, the tightness in his chest that’d been building up from that first day finally loosening, whatever happened in the minutes between stepping in front of the camera and that moment obviously winning him a bit of favor.

“I do look good behind the wheel, don’t I?” Tony answered, a shit eating grin on his face.

Peter reached over, swatting his thigh in joking exasperation. “Shut up.”

That exchange stayed with him after that, a subtle reminder of the distance between them narrowing. Tony didn’t even know if Peter liked anything about him other than the way he looked, or the way his mugs held coffee – but a small bit of hope sat in his chest, regardless. Things were so different now, all smiles and laughing, inside jokes between the two of them that didn’t cease to be funny, no matter how many times they stopped dead in their tracks to deal with the chuckling fits that spontaneously occurred at the thought of any of them. It had to mean something, even if it wasn’t the sort of intensity that Tony wanted.

Like most things in his life, Tony got his answer in the form of a shout, or at least, the closest a kiss could come to the form. About a year and a half into their working relationship, Peter was finally comfortable, so comfortable in fact, he allowed himself to fall asleep in the many different spaces he’d been invited into in Tony’s home and workshop. That particular day, Tony walked into his office to find Peter passed the fuck out, a cute string of drool lulling from the side of his mouth. His eyes were moving behind his eyelids, hands clenching by his sides.

For a second, Tony thought to wake him up, what he thought was distress making him want to take care of Peter in the only way he knew how. Resisting, Tony walked around his office quietly, grabbing his smock and the most recent designs before trying his best to sneak past Peter without waking the sleeping beauty up. He was about to step away from the edge of the couch when a hand shot out, grabbing his wrist.

“Pete, what – “ Tony started to exclaim, his body falling towards Peter stopping the rest of the words from coming out of his mouth. Without being able to suck in another pull of breath, Tony’s lips were covered, all of Peter pressing fully against him, lips and obviously interested cock, included. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, Tony kept himself still, the need to flatten Peter out and press into the contact so close to winning out, despite knowing it probably wasn’t his best course of action.

A gasp of breath against his lips alerted Tony to Peter’s conscious state, the man pulling back from him in the next second.

“Tony?” Peter gasped; the words still tinged with sleep. “Is this real? I was just dreaming – “ He stopped then, realization of what he just said grinding everything else to a halt. “Oh god.”

Putting a finger across Peter’s lips to stop any other words from spilling out, Tony leaned back into his space, their faces mere inches away from each other. “I dream about it, too.” Tony mumbled as he closed the distance and pressed their lips together – this kiss one they were both conscious and aware of.

The fingers slipping into his hair were the only sign that he needed. In a desperate attempt to get more skin right in that very moment, Tony climbed onto the couch, his knees pressing into the cushions bracketing Peter’s hips. His own hands moved to grasp whatever skin he could reach, Peter’s nap on the couch affording him stomach and back from a ridden-up shirt.

Plush lips were such a distraction, the thickness of Peter’s bottom lip ridding him of any thought other than right that second and skin and more kisses that felt like straight heat touching him. Peter’s fingers dug into his scalp, blunt nails cutting into the skin in the most tantalizing way possible.

An annoying need for oxygen pulled them apart, Tony panting into the skin of Peter’s neck as he continued to explore the long planes of skin there. If this dream haze was the only way he got what he’d been wanting since he first laid eyes on Peter, Tony would take it – simply because he never let himself and he really, really, really wanted this; wanted Peter.

Hands on the side of his face stopped his assault, Tony pulling away with so much reluctance – his entire being shouting against the disparity of the action. Peter brushed their noses together, his fingers caressing Tony’s face, cupping behind his ears – each digit moving restlessly.

“I want you,” Peter said plainly, the seconds of silent stares and heavily panted breaths already forgotten – the words already enough to change the way the world tipped on its axis. “I want you. Have wanted you for so long. Please, Tony – “

Whatever was going to come next, Tony cut him off – their lips sealing back together now that they were both on the same page, both ready for the next step – both wanting each other.

Not in any frame of mind to do anything other than kiss, be kissed, and pull at clothes in hopes that they came off, Tony did just that – his fingers slipped under the soft t-shirt covering Peter’s chest, the pads of them tracing the smooth skin of rippling abs, and the slightest bit of chest hair just starting to coat over trim pecs. He pushed the shirt up until it rested under Peter’s arms, his brain unwilling to allow him to pull away from their kiss to actually take it off.

Peter, like he did so well over the past few months, took the matter into his own hands. He pulled away from Tony to yank his shirt up and over his head, eager fingers doing the same to Tony’s once he got the memo and shifted so Peter was able. Soft hands found the thick patch of hair covering his upper chest and the straight path down his abdominals that trailed down into the confines of his now too-tight boxer briefs. The touch was like electricity, each inch of perusal like a shock rolling across the surface of his skin.

Moaning, Tony let his hips drop, the bulge in his pants pressingly deliciously against Peter’s erection, the slide of his jeans against his passion both tantalizing and harsh – the perfect combination. In an attempt to gain more friction and a better position, Tony climbed off of Peter’s thighs, slotting himself between muscled legs, instead. Instantly, Peter wrapped his thighs around Tony’s hips, using his strength and leverage to pull him close, closer than either ever thought they would ever get.

The next few minutes were a flurry of kisses against bare skin and hands wandering all the inches they could – Tony focusing on the softest little swell of Peter’s stomach, the roundness of it only enhancing the strength the rest of him portrayed. They fumbled and thrust, erections grinding through several layers of jean and fine clothed underwear. It was glorious and not enough all in one breath. Tony forced himself to create space between them in hopes of furthering things along, his shaky hands making quick work of Peter’s pants and then his own.

Completely naked in front of him, Tony was surprised to not feel a single shred of self-consciousness. In all of his imaginings, he thought he might curl in on himself – there weren’t many people that knew the real him; baring himself this way to Peter, Tony no longer had the pleasure of anonymity, the barrier of protective shell he tried to keep with him at all times. A grinning Peter brought him away from those thoughts, his own lips turning up in a smoldering smirk.

“Reach behind you – I think there’s something in the side table we can use for lube.”

The words came out panted, like Tony needed every shred of oxygen in his body to deliver them, yet, he couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed – Peter fumbled over himself to get to the drawer, his upper body twisting to reach, despite Tony pinning his legs down into the cushions of the couch below them. A sound of triumph left them both when Peter righted himself, a small bottle of lube in his grasp.

“Any reason why you have lube in your workshop office?” Peter asked through a chuckle, his hands already moving to grip Tony’s bare skin, the lube sitting on his stomach in offering.

Ignoring the question for the moment, Tony reached up to grab the bottle, his lips busy tracing the lines of Peter’s abs until he found himself face to face with a delectable erection, the tip of it glistening with the tangible exertions of their efforts. He brought his eyes up to glance at Peter, the usual honey-hazel completely overtaken by black pupil and want – so much want.

His tongue peaked out to sop up the leaky moisture, Tony letting a moan slip from his lips before redoubling his efforts, his lips wrapping around Peter tightly. It was erotic, bobbing up and down on the most beautiful erection while maintaining such intense eye contact. The state of Peter’s eyes matched his own, the glassy nature of them making his own cock throb – the smear of precum he felt himself thrusting into a tell-tale sign of what this did to him; what Peter could so easily drag from him.

“Jerking off, of course,” Tony finally answered, his lips pulling away from Peter’s cock with a loud pop that echoed around the small office. “I practically lived here before you came to my rescue. I’m not a saint.”

To emphasize the point, Tony snapped open the cap of the lube, his eyes flashing as that sound too seemed to bounce off the walls. A weak moan left his lips when he turned the tube over to dump a good amount of lube over his fingers, the implication of what came next and the frigid cold of the lube doing something to him. Peter grinned up at him, his hips rolling up in the most obvious form of permission.

Taking Peter’s cock back into his mouth, Tony let two of his fingers slip between the crease of firm butt cheeks, the tip of one tracing a tight rim. With the thought of distraction, Tony sucked hard and pressed his finger in, breaching the muscle with a kind of ease that had him moaning around the thick cock in his mouth. The boil of heat and arousal felt like it was consuming him – he’d feel lucky if he actually got to the point of slipping inside Peter without completely embarrassing himself.

Long fingers dug into thick, salt and pepper locks, Peter’s grip tight and flexing rhythmically with the bob and pull of his mouth around the most luscious erection. Slowly, Tony opened Peter up, his fingers working in tandem with his cleverly talented mouth. Little by little, he felt the muscle around his fingers relax, Peter easily able to take three fingers after his careful ministrations.

The grip in his hair tightened, forcing Tony to look up to gauge the situation. The sight he was met with caused his cock to throb again, the tip now completely covered with pre-cum and weepy, each second passing filling out the appendage more and more, Tony feeling so fucking close to burning already.

Peter’s pupils were completely blown, the glassy nature of them from before overtaken by a sort of heat that Tony didn’t know existed. His hair was in disarray, the obvious toss of it back and forth showing in the tangled strands. Sweat covered him, the tiny drops on Peter’s forehead the only indication that he too was physically straining himself, desperately trying to hold himself off.

“Fuck me, Tony. I need it – need you,” Peter gasped out, his fingers tightening in Tony’s hair even more. “Please.”

Not one to deny himself or those he cared about, Tony pulled himself up and away, Peter’s pulsing erection slapping against his chin for the effort. A laugh left his lips as he sat up completely, nervous hands moving to grab the lube. The snick of the cap opening made them both jump, each man completely wound up and ready to go off at any moment. Dumping a generous amount of lube onto his cock, Tony reached down to spread it, smearing the last little bit of it around Peter’s entrance – the thought of the sticky-slick slide pushing him into position faster than he thought imaginable.

Nudging Peter’s thighs, Tony settled further between them, the muscles there clenching with the subtle pressure of a cock head against the relaxed rim; the feeling jolting them both. He sucked in a quick breath, his chest expanding with the long pull of air. Breathing back out, Tony pressed forward, thrusting his hips without hesitation until they were pressed soundly together, Tony’s pelvis to the warm flesh of Peter’s ass.

“Oh, fuck –“ Tony babbled, his head hanging between his shoulders as he held himself above Peter, giving them both a moment to adjust to the heat and tightness – the overall feeling of their connection blazing up between them.

Peter’s answer came in the form of a swift clench of muscle around Tony’s cock, the heat of it all burning any ounce of self-control Tony might’ve had. His hips snapped forward, the sound of skin slapping against skin pulling a groan from the depth of his chest. If this was what just being wrapped up in Peter felt like, Tony couldn’t even begin to fathom what the end result of their joining would be like.

A little bit desperate, Tony dropped down until their chests were pressed together, hands moving to urge Peter to wrap his thighs a little higher up his chest to better the angle. With that done, he nestled his face into the side of Peter’s neck and let go.

Every thrust was accompanied by the sweetest sounds, both men contributing to the groundbreaking symphony of passion and connection. The slap of skin on skin and breathy moans were the only thing that could be heard around the room, each crescendo of sound driving Tony that much closer to the edge he never wanted to reach – staying there, in that moment, it would’ve been the best thing in the world.

Yet, he found himself chasing the feeling of jumping over the peak, anyway. Peter was clamping down around him hard, the constant press of Tony’s dick against his prostate creeping him towards the edge – the man’s cock was slick between them, each thrust pulling yet another pulse of pre-cum from the tip to guide the way. Their stomachs provided the friction to Peter’s cock that Tony couldn’t, his attention completely consumed by thrusts and sweat and the heat surrounding him.

With his orgasm impending, Tony picked up his pace, the rhythmic strokes from before completely gone, replaced with an animalistic push and pull that was quickly driving him towards completion. He didn’t want to reach it until Peter did, however; the clench of muscles around his touch sensitive cock a good indicator of how close Peter was, too.

After another few hard thrusts, Peter wailed, his hand slipping into Tony’s hair to pull at the locks.

“I’m gonna cum – oh god, Tony!”

Holding on just long enough to see the look of pure ecstasy on Peter’s face, Tony thrusted once, twice, three times before letting himself go – his orgasm washing over him deliciously, the feel of it like passing out and coming to all in one shot.

Tony felt his arms give way, his body crashing heavily into Peter’s. They were covered in sweat and semen, both physically exerting their bodies to the point of exhaustion, but completely sated, nonetheless. Pressing a kiss to Peter’s neck, Tony let himself relax, not giving two shits about the sweaty stickiness between them.

“We should have been doing that for ages now,” Peter whispered, his voice deep and wrecked sounding, a sort of pleasure radiating from him as the words left his lips.

Chuckling softly, Tony wrapped Peter up, his arms squeezing him tightly to his chest, the two of them settling into the gentle comfort surrounding them in that moment.

“Well, you’re definitely not getting rid of me, now.”

----

Loosening the reins on the idea of his public image got a little easier the longer Tony spent in Peter’s arms. Without much to rely on in the personal life Tony cultivated throughout his existence, his image was really the only thing he had. Even if that image was one that wasn’t the best – at least the world knew something of him. Yet, the closer he got to Peter and the effortlessness of their relationship, the less he cared about what people thought of him – of his sassy, diva, socialite attitude that he’d been cultivating for so long.

Instead, Tony felt the need to let little pieces of himself shine through as the months past. It became clear that being his genuine self was important to Peter – the man seemed to like all the pieces of him and wanted the world to see him in all of his glory.

It’d been too long for him to completely pour his public persona completely down the drain – there were too many people that came to expect a certain sort of thing from him. And he wasn’t anywhere close to being comfortable with a public reveal of his face in conjunction with his pottery business, but – they were slowly making progress.

Several months after finally coming together as a couple, Tony and Peter were back where things started to change for them – Peter behind the camera, watching as Tony put on his mask to face the public. This time, they were camped in front of a sleek, all black motorcycle – the bike one of Tony’s most recent glutinous purchases (he happened upon it a week or two after Peter mentioned how sexy he thought it would be, Tony on the back of a bike like that). Tony let Peter pick out the outfit he was sporting, the straight black pants and stiff collared jacket one of his absolute favorites.

After several of these over their time together, Tony understood Peter’s feelings on the smolder he let free when posing for these types of photos – there was a love-hate relationship with the particular faces he made throughout the process. On one hand, Peter hated the reason for the false look – pleasing people was never something he became accustomed to, even after spending so much time with Tony. On the other hand, Tony knew that Peter found it irresistible – the fact that he could kiss it off of him now only adding to that feeling.

Peter let it go on for a while – they shot several different poses in, on, and around the bike. Directing him from behind the camera, Peter made comments here and there, most of the time allowing Tony to do what he wanted. When his limit was reached, Tony found himself slapped across the face with a rubber duck, the toy hitting him before he could even see it coming.

“I can’t take that look anymore. I want to pull you off that bike and ravage you. But I can’t – because we’re in public.”

Peter’s eye caught his, the truth of his words existing in the small space between them. Grinning, Tony let the rubber duck rest against his thigh, a smirk slipping across his lips. He heard a series of clicks before Peter was staring him down again, a mix between lust and hilarity playing across his face.

Later, when he downloaded the pictures, Tony couldn’t stop the big bust of laughter that fell from his lips, a huge smile slipping across his cheeks. He quickly opened up the one he would post and did the customary touch ups in Photoshop before sending it to himself, anticipation and excitement sitting in his chest at his most recent idea. Tony didn’t hesitate, bringing up Instagram and posting the photo without a second thought.

The thunk of a phone hitting the ground in the other room, followed by fast footsteps coming his way was the clear sign that Peter saw the picture – his boyfriend appearing in the doorway of their room a moment later with the most affectionate look on his face making Tony feel like he was about to burst open at the seams.

“All of those pictures and that’s the one you post?” Peter questioned, his long legs carrying him over until he was inches from Tony. “That rubber duck can’t be all that good for your image.”

Reaching out, Tony pulled Peter until they were chest to chest, his boyfriend’s arms wrapping around his shoulders to narrow the space down even further. “Someone told me it needed a change,” Tony mumbled, his words somewhat muffled by the press of his lips against Peter’s as he spoke. “Thought it might be a step in the right direction.”

Peter’s answer came in the form of a desperate kiss, their tongues and teeth clashing in the best of ways. “I love you, you fucking dork.”

Pressing back in for another kiss, Tony let himself revel in the feeling taking him over in that moment. After so long, it felt good to take the tiniest step out of the closet – there were many more to take, but at least he knew the effort was appreciated. He let himself stay lost in the kiss for a while, the desperate caress of soft lips and eager hands the only thing that really mattered.

#starker #rubber ducky #bobbie writes #goindownshipping

43 notes · View notes

bujorulgalben · 5 years

Text

ooc: eve goes to romania

oh yes, nailed that cover shot for you guys. took this at the top of the slope i hiked down a few times in the month i spent over there in that beautiful country.

i figured that i would bullet point the most important things that happened on this trip for you. know that i did try to keep a travel log while i was out there, but dear god i was so busy and so, so tired!

in the meantime, let’s get started:

- made new friends from across romania; notably from suceava, bacău, cluj, and maramureș. they were all eager to tell me their stories (a couple older staff members had strong childhood memories from the communist era), and share some insight with me; especially when it became obvious how curious and genuinely interested i was. i was more than happy to listen and quiz them!

for the record, maramureș palincă is easily the best i’ve had so far. smooth, despite still being fire water. i’ve also been told to visit cluj next time i’m in romania, so as to see everyone again.

my favourite romanian beer is silva blondă. i did try to like timișoreana! i did! it wasn’t happening, lads.

- the insight from my romanian friends and colleagues contributed to some great advice the camp director gave to me on buying a handmade ie; a traditional romanian blouse. i met a sweet old bunica in a local crafts fair near bran castle - maybe they were hoping to cash in on the dracula-hunting tourists? i can hardly blame them.

this bunica helped me pick an ie that matched my director’s recommendation; not loud, subtle, but undeniably elegant (”like you”, she told me. bless.) here’s what i chose:

it’s very light and breezy, which was ideal for the hotter days in the cities! the embroidery reminds me of forget-me-not’s; one of my favourite flowers.

- speaking of traditional crafts, i got very lucky and stumbled across an arts fair at the open air in sibiu. craftsmen and women around the country had gathered to show and share their goods; dolls and ceramics and rugs and painted eggs. i bought one painted egg from a lovely woman who insisted that she was more thankful than i was.

i also bought one of the dolls; very simple wood and cloth doll.

many, near all of them screamed anica energy, but i managed to control myself and buy just one. i also bought some ceramic magnets to decorate my pc with.

- uh.

nearly got hit by a pickup truck flying over a sand bank in the road. the driver slowed, lowered his window to call me a “stupid whore” in romanian, and then sped off. it wasn’t going to be a trip to ro without a near-death experience on the road.

-second “uh” moment.

i got stopped by police on the roadside early into my trip. i was quick to try and pardon myself by saying i didn’t understand what they were saying, and that i was english. i said all of this to them... in romanian. which they found very funny.

turns out they were only trying to make small talk with me. they thought i was pretty.

- teaching kids who would arrive in from around the country allowed me to get a glimpse of the city rivalries that exist here, and also ask about their/their countries’s perception of their home. the most interesting answers came from kids arriving from bucharest (european capital discourse is so fucking interesting) and ilfov; the county neighbouring bucharest.

i had been meaning to work on ileana-cosmina - my bucharest oc - and i’m much better equipped to, now.

- the kids made me an honourary romanian when i reflected on my favourite food of theirs being papanași, and spoke fondly of mămăligă.

...they then retracted my title when i said i hated pufuleți (corn puff snacks) and that i bought my cozonac for this trip from a store brand. i have got some recipes to try making that myself and to right my errors.

- with the younger kids, a “cultural exchange” worked wonders for the last days of teaching. in that, i would allow them to teach me a word in romanian, if i taught them a word in english. my accent, that i adopt when speaking romanian, surprised a lot of students and people outside of camp. even leading them to believe that i was romanian. i had to be, by their logic, as i wasn’t speaking english. i wish more people would try.

i got to chat to a lot more with my friends, the romanian translators, about romanian movies and popular media. many of the translators were also political science students; we chatted at length abt the political situation here.

i’ve been asked to revise my master’s dissertation for their reading pleasure. lol dammit.

- living in the cindrel mountains meant that i got to take my water every water from a spring. well, a hose redirecting water from a spring. sometimes you get small queues of people with petrol tankers from all over, filling em with water.

- i met a math teacher from iași here at this spring, actually! he had previously done construction work in london, chasing a well-known dream, and hated it. he hated everything about it, so returned to romania and to his teaching job. he wanted me to know that “so long as i have ideas, i don’t need money”. many adult men i spoke to here echoed the same sentiment, and pride themselves on their resourcefulness.

- the stars are something else here. got me feeling a certain way.

- third “uh” moment.

on most nights, the camp hosts an outdoor disco for the kids. most nights, at on point, included the assumption of mary; a religious holiday. the weekend after this holiday apparently counted, also, as the hotel lower down on the hill felt the need to make multiple noise complaints.

the police eventually turned up and forced the night of dancing to end early. i recognised a few exchanged curse words.

- asides the fridge magnets and ie, a car icon, and a hand-painted plate for my future homemade cozonac, i also frequented a literature/history bookstore and found some textbooks i used heavily as points of reference for my research, but in romanian. so i might practice my translation skills, soon!

- okay i’m done. thank you for reading. :)

there’s photo posts to look forward to, as well, i promise.

#mâna autorului ✧ ooc #it was a very eventful month i promise you that

6 notes · View notes

peckhampeculiar · 6 years

Text

Fabric of society

Words Emma Finamore; Photo Marcos Avlonitis

The bold, bright colours and beautiful, intricate batik patterns of wax print can be seen all over London, but they’re a visual symbol of somewhere else: Africa. From village to cotton field, from mill to market, a new film traces the story of how this fabric came to epitomise a whole continent – and it goes to some surprising places.

Peckham based composer Aiwan Obinyan, has just released ‘Wax Print’ – a documentary exploring this extraordinary material's relationship to Africa and its people, as well its journey. She wrote the film – as well as directing it, producing it, and even composing its soundtrack – after bering inspired by something her Nigerian grandmother said.

"I grew up with the prints,” she explains. “But when I heard my grandma call it 'Hollandaise'...and I was like, how is it Hollandaise? What does that mean? I noted it and got on with my life but then later I started making clothes and wanted to use that fabric, and thought it would be nice to show my customers where the fabric comes from and a bit of the history, and I thought it as going to be simple...but the more questions I asked the it just took me from one country to another, to different periods of time. For two years I traced the story." This took her and her camera to Ghana, Nigeria, the Netherlands, even to Manchester: "Wax print was made in Manchester for over 100 years, at ABC Wax, from 1908".

That’s because, despite being seen very much as ‘African’ fabric, wax print’s story is one of colonisation, international trade (including the slave trade) and industrialisation, across multiple nations, continents and cultures. During the Dutch colonisation of Indonesia in the 1800s, Dutch merchants and administrators became familiar with the nation’s batik technique. “They took it from Indonesia and figured if they could mechanise it, they could sell loads of it. It was originally a handmade print," explains Aiwan. The owners of textile factories in the Netherlands started developing machine printing processes which could imitate batik, hoping that the far cheaper machine-made imitations could outcompete the original batiks in the Indonesian market: creating the look of batik without the labour-intensive work required to make the real thing.

West Africans recruited between 1831 and 1872 from the Dutch Gold Coast to serve in the Dutch colonizing army in Indonesia would have seen these prints, and when retiring to Elmina, in modern Ghana, they may have provided an early market for the imitation batik. That’s one theory, but what we do know is that demand for the fabric grew in African ports and throughout West Africa, prompting Scottish, English, and Swiss manufacturers to follow the Dutch in producing and selling wax print.

The material quickly became a part of African apparel, and of society: women used the fabrics as a method of communication and expression, with certain patterns being used as a shared language, with widely understood meanings. It was soon also used for formal wear by leaders, diplomats, and the wealthy population.

Aiwan’s telling of this tale begins with her own story and relationship with the material. "Growing up in south east London, being bullied for being African - it wasn't cool to be African in the ‘90s - and wanting to hide my identity as much as possible,” she says. “And one of the most immediate, physical symbols of Africa is wax print. So you kind of wanted to push it to one side, and not be associated with it."

This has changed though, for her and many other people with African heritage – it’s now something to wear with pride. “I think it's being reclaimed by black people worldwide - in the diaspora and on the continent. It's being reinterpreted in terms of design, and it's being reclaimed as a symbol of Africa and African-ness. And something to be proud of."

Aiwan talks about how this resurgence means you can now get wax print earrings, glasses frames....pretty much anything you want. Part of the documentary is actually filmed at the Hub and Culture shop in Peckham, where customers can pick up everything from shoes, kimonos and capes, to handbags and head wraps – all in wax print, in every colour of the rainbow. Sales figures demonstrate the popularity of these products too. In Sub-Saharan Africa, wax print boasts an annual sales volume of 2.1 billion yards, with an average production cost of $2.6 billion and retail value of $4 billion. Ghana, to take one example, has an annual consumption of textiles about 130 million yards.

But it’s more than just a product to be bought and sold. "The film is kind of like the fabric,” explains Aiwan. “It's woven, it's many stranded. But the bottom line is about identity. It's definitely a statement. When someone's wearing wax print they're wearing it with intention. It's a statement: ' 'This is who I am.' The fact of the matter is that wax print is bold and vibrant and colourful, it stands out. So when you're wearing it - it's a statement."

These statements extend to places as well as people, as Aiwan discovered on her explorative journey. "So for instance in Congo their colourways are very bright, almost fluorescent pinks and yellows,” she says. “Whereas if you go over to Ghana the prints are a bit more muted, more burgundies and olive greens. And in Nigeria the prints are more strong yellows, strong oranges, really intense blues. And within Nigeria there are different colour ways for different parts of the country. So the colour way for Ibos over in the East is that blue with the orange, whereas the colour way for Yoruba would be different."

Another part of the wax print story that Aiwan unearthed was especially exciting: about a group of pioneering, formidable women called the ‘Nana Benz’, who played a key, pivotal role in the development of the wax print industry, operating during the 1930s to 1970s. "They were very, very powerful women who became millionaires during their time through trading in wax print - they were the gatekeepers,” explains Aiwan. “If they said it wouldn't sell, it wouldn’t sell. They were in touch with the local women so they knew what they liked, and they fed that back to the European merchants, who then made the cloth according to those specifications. They had economic power, political power, social power...they were so wealthy that they owned luxury cars like the Mercedes Benz - hence the name, Nana Benz. They owned so many of these cars that the government at the time, if they ran out of cars for local dignitaries, they would borrow cars from the Nana Benz.

“For me it was the most surprising thing [about making the film] - was the story of the Nana Benz, because I didn’t know it. I first got introduced to it at the Vlisco wax print factory [in Helmond, the Netherlands] and there was a picture there of an old African woman, and I asked somebody who it was and she said, 'That's a Nana Benz' - and she explained briefly who she was. And at first I thought it was specifically who she was - I thought Nana Benz was a single person, Then I did more research and realised it was this group of powerful women."

Aiwan’s research saw her talking to professors, reading books, and then a bit closer to home: "Then I made the connection between the Nana Benz and my grandma." Her grandmother ran a sewing school and tailoring business in Ekpoma in Edo State, Nigeria – an entrepreneur who ended up supplying custom clothes to surrounding businesses. "There's a picture in the film of my grandma in the most amazing outfit,” Aiwan remembers, “standing next to a bright red BMW sports car....she was a Nana Benz!

“I'm glad I went on that journey, and that I was given the honour and the privilege to be able to tell that story. I'm really glad that the stories of the women have been re-centred, and the story of wax print has been re-centred. Very often when people write about wax print it's almost anthropological, sort of analytical and academic. So I was happy to re-centre the story of the Nana Benz's and people like my grandma - without them you wouldn’t have wax print, that's the bottom line, there is no wax print. It became what it was because of them, and their collaboration with missionaries and traders."

This big story calls for a big audience, and this month Aiwan is taking her film on the road. Wax Print has been accepted into the Pan African Film Festival in Los Angeles, so Aiwan will be out there in February, then there’s an event with artist Yinka Shonibare MBE (whose work exploring cultural identity, colonialism and post-colonialism often features brightly coloured wax print) in Exeter, as well as at a wax print factory in the Netherlands, and screenings in Japan and Ghana - poignantly on Juneteenth Independence Day or Freedom Day, a celebration of the abolition of slavery in Texas and the emancipation of enslaved African Americans throughout the former Confederate States of America. "In the film I talk about how slavery was a big factor in wax print,” says Aiwan, “so it'll be nice to celebrate the abolition of slavery in Ghana where slaves were taken, while showing a film which is about our identity as a people."

If that wasn’t enough hard work, she’s just finished working on a play at the Young Vic Theatre – doing the sound for The Convert, a play written by Black Panther star Danai Gurira – and is currently working on a feature film in Nigeria called 'Nigeriana', following a young man’s struggle to engage in politics despite a corrupt system.

Like these projects, Wax Print is powered by Aiwan’s clear passion for storytelling, especially a tale that’s close to her heart. "It's hard work but I think it would be harder if it wasn't something I care about,” she explains. “I think it's important to work on things you truly believe in."

2 notes · View notes

rover2a · 5 years

Text

This weekend was the long awaited start of my craft fair season, with more purpose this year but more of that later. I had been unable to attend the Crafty Bastards fair last year and was looking forward to this year. This is a curated show of local crafts and handmade products – a small but hopefully inspiring show. The fair itself was held in the fabulous Marathon Music Works venue – a great venue for music in Nashville for up and coming performers or smaller performances. Outside were some foodtrucks, I always love the notion of foodtrucks, they make me feel as if I am sampling something unique not mass produced, plus there is something indulgent about eating food out of a bag or paper while walking around (carefully)!

There were some really well made products which truly didn’t feel as if they had been bought in bulk online and peddled as crafted. I particularly liked the felt succulents in little pots – some appeared very real until I got up close. Even if some of the work was not totally unique, it was all crafted with love and pride and it showed.

We wanted to get a feel for this type of show as my husband is about ready to begin attending fairs with his own creations. I will feature his work in another blog but Riverview Wood lovingly create hand turned bowls from local wood. We needed to learn more about working a show and what to expect.

As I mentioned, the craft fair was at Marathon Music Works which is part of the old Marathon Motor Works building on Clinton St in Nashville. Fortunately, this building was saved from the fate of many in Nashville and is not flattened to make way for another new high rise. The building is beautifully restored with stores on the main floor and offices on the second floor. Much of the original building is recognizable and there are displays of the tools and machines used for the Motor Works along with signs indicating which part of the factory you were in. Part of the building across the street contains a small museum of the motor works.

One of the more well know stores here is Antiques Archeology, the southern arm of the stores made famous by the tv show American Pickers. There are some interesting items on display as well as souvenir t-shirts but due to its fame, its hard to move about and look at things, particularly on a Saturday. There are other, independent stores, some of the type you would expect – farmhouse style or country reproductions. There are also some local distilleries and wineries – or at least tasting outlets for them. The whole building is rather lovely though and I will definitely be returning and bringing any visitors I have to show them another side of Nashville. Conveniently, it is on the hop on hop off trolley tour too so an easy visit for anyone. If you go, I hope you enjoy and have the time to take in the building and its history as well as the shopping and sampling.

#gallery-0-15 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-15 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 33%; } #gallery-0-15 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-15 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Forgot to mention there is a comedy club which I will be checking out

Just loved the floors

part of the upstairs hallway with original factory door – take that barn doors!

Curving walls in what appeared to be the management area.

Craft Fair Season This weekend was the long awaited start of my craft fair season, with more purpose this year but more of that later.

#Antiques #Architecture #Arts #Craft #CraftFair #Curated #Handmade #industrial #Nashville #Restoration #Saturday

1 note · View note

idontevenwannaknow · 6 years

Text

sport necklaces

Nevertheless baseball jewelry, immediately it's normally the spies and celebrities who're carrying hats as a result of they don't wish to be recognized by anyone. Moreover you may require the factory to customize unique style hats that you like. The double hyperlink adds energy and elegance. You don't need to be a pro to dress like one. Whereas no one will seemingly be utilizing them to make new custom jewelry, these gems are distinctive and have fascinating histories. A technique a man can look his most interesting is by wearing cufflinks. It is a novel method for men to accessorize with out the heaviness of jewelry that may get in the way or is uncomfortable. A basic males's diamond tennis bracelet is a good way so as to add an elegant, however masculine shine to any look. From the workplace to the golf course to a night time out on the town, this statement piece can add a classy, vogue forward accent. It's an extended standing tradition in many households so as to add a charm to a bracelet over time as a holiday or birthday reward.

You also get to see those photographs every time you put on the jewelry. Essentially the most thrilling truth about trend jewelry is that it always retains changing. However let's remind you that even a small ring you put on comes into the class of the jewelry. In actual fact, maybe a quick dialog about those New York Yankees, Oakland Raiders or even slightly bit of Alabama Crimson in your wrists will lead to a extra in depth conversation which could inevitably lead to business offers. Like a Baseball Mother bangle bracelet worn by the complete workforce will encourage them to do higher, show cooperation and even embolden the staff members to play nicely. There may be the play and costume jewellery. Diamond jewellery is special in that it conveys feelings without saying words. The pinnacle secures the diamond. Like may be a pitcher player allowed to put on a men's marriage ceremony ring in the on the mound?

You can order customized golf balls, cookies made to seem like footballs, baseballs, or soccer balls, or any variety of other sports activities or staff oriented gifts. The group spirit and cooperation will be increased by designing the same jewelry item for the team. Jewellery market veterans in China say cadmium has been utilised in home gadgets there for years. Take a fast take a look at different types of Pet Cremation Urns and other memorials available in the market. Worker Recognition Awards - Staff take nice pride in wearing lapel pins that show their achievements, and they're going to treasure employee recognition awards that they can continuously show to others. Wish to take a wild guess at what keyphrase theyre focusing on? Sometimes a ring or necklace can have a special, personal meaning as a result of it was a present. For the fan that enjoys the physique piercing trend a pink or blue Biobplasts Blazing Baseball Stomach Ring will do the trick.

The inexpensiveness of some modern rhinestones has allowed them to be used in every kind of utility, from dog collars to baseball caps. A few of probably the most distinctive fun baseball products are baseball slippers for women bought on amazon, baseball purses and totes or baseball cuff hyperlink, money clip, and tie tack for men. At probably the most fundamental, you will not go wrong with knee-length or longer skirts for girls and suits or costume shirts and pants for males. Second, tucking shirts in and carrying belts are okay for the holidays, however they certain aren't the cool hip look we're going for. The place where you'll is n figuring out factor for the accessories. This means earrings; bracelets, rings and necklaces are all no-no's. Mothers and boys continue to complain that COOL boys clothes are non-existent. These are some nice wedding ceremony concepts for sports activities lovers. Perhaps you are considering sports activities cufflinks that show off your hobbies.

This French hybrid grape produces a dry pink wine that's bold, wealthy, and full bodied. For white wine followers, attempt the LaCrosse, a semi candy gem with aromas of melon and pear. Other sizzling picks include a diamond bracelet or maybe a diamond and sapphire coronary heart locket. One of the vital simple, however classic, gadgets of jewellery is a top quality bracelet. There may be the cheaper possibility of style jewellery. Wholesale trend jewelry is the idea assigned to organizations that manufacture model jewellery. A standard false impression is that style jewellery is simply too fake trying. Style jewellery is available in all differing types. A photograph of just a little woman at her first dance recital or a little bit boy in his first baseball game put on picture jewelry may make fantastic keepsake reward. The standard of Gold present great pliability together with ductility as properly because the man views and his superior talent to generate fantastic along with difficult patterns presents full Gold Jewellery the infatuation associated with loveliness. From a 3-stone ring that sparkles with the past, current and future, or a traditional eternity ring, diamonds are a hands-down sentimental favourite. There are a number of seems that must be pulled collectively in 2006. If you're going for a glance, go all the way in which and baseball jewelry.

For the sports fan in you, there is a wide selection of sports cufflinks accessible together with a large variety of sports crew cufflinks. People don't notice that in the event that they can't afford the real deal, there are extra options. Mouth - choose a cute pair of lips, smile, giggle, frown or even a tongue sticking out plus extra. Gifts for Collectors Nearly any object might be collected: baseball playing cards, spoons, vintage brooches, or baseball fashion blog even vintage blenders. The Boston Pink Sox is probably the most famous baseball group to associate with Phiten titanium necklaces. Do you love your group nearly as much because the person you intend to marry? If you are a baseball fan or even a football fan, you may rotate your group throughout the seasons so you might be always on high of the sport. Boys' clothes are getting cooler and cooler all of the time. This is great for people who find themselves up in age who have issues reminiscent of osteoporosis, arthritis, or something that has precipitated their legs to become weakened. Nevertheless, lots of people say it has really helped them; they even talked about they had been also skeptical to begin with.

Or is the deck stacked against her and she'll lose a lot of money? It's obvious that less cash is required for a flea market than for a retail retailer, but what's not so apparent? In other phrases, focus on how much cash you have got already made on that order that got here in, fairly than focusing on the objects which might be left over and haven't bought. Moreover giving the video games their structure, guidelines are meant to provide all members a (supposedly) even playing field. These seats embrace a button that enables the seated individual to get up with ease, every time they are prepared. Can you simply get to a lot of spots to buy? Get a second opinion. Men also hit a house run with the lady of their lives by marking a big (or not so vital) anniversary with the diamond anniversary ring. I think this could possibly be an ideal present for a particular occasion equivalent to graduation or wedding or an anniversary.

I made a necklace with a favorite photograph of a sunset right here. Add earrings and a necklace to finish your look. When using the search terms, you must also add your metropolis or city name to the search with a view to uncover sources near you. Sure, you could find replica Collection bands alongside collectively utilizing arranged stones and likewise diamonds, nevertheless these could be the exception, not the actual rule. Diamonds dazzle like nothing else can. Dazzle her with a diamond. These collars also include some type of identification on them, very similar to we use on our dog tags immediately. Such a phenomenal paradise that is like a slice of Heaven on Earth. Even should you don’t have expertise at all, it's going to just take a couple weeks of messing round with programs as Photoshop and Illustrator. Nonetheless, in today’s world the place mummification is not potential, pet homeowners still have the option to honor their furry pals with the help of pet memorials.

When i lived at home, I always tried to help make adjustments for the higher, slightly than simply letting dangerous politics determine for me. These really exhibit the interests of any sharp dressed man all while catering to his internal sports activities lover. For those who ask a man what he actually needs, he's likely to say a brand new automotive, some sports gear or model new instruments. Missing baseball jewelry, which usually shelving up wards repeated flyer a long way in arms and, joints, fingers, legs and, as well as earlobes. Many rabid baseball fans put on extra the standard investing credit score charge enjoying greeting handmade homemade business notes, signed gadgets, banners and ads, paint footplate, as well as bubblehead dolls. The first Pizza Hut opened in 1958, which is about 500 years closer. It all the time has a recent just cleaned regarded that appears to fade quickly with yellow gold. Judy is considering selling earrings on the local swapmeet with baseball jewelry.

1 note · View note

kisathemistress · 7 years

Text

Some South Park Headcanons I have

(Because I’m falling for the series again!)

The four main characters:

Kyle Broflovski:

His personality makes it almost impossible for him to let things go, if it means making someone (other than Cartman) upset or sad. He just want as many people as possible to be happy around him, because if they aren’t he feels like he has failed them.

This comes from his strict upbringing his parents gave him and from studying/knowing everything (including religious various beliefs) thus he lives his life by the golden rule: “Do not do unto others, that you do not want done to you.”

He believes highly in karma as well, especially the Wiccan belief of karma. Where if you do something kind you will be rewarded with 3 times the kindness, but if you do something hurtful you will be punished with 3 times the misfortune.

Despite being Jewish and claiming his pride with the religion, Kyle doesn’t follow any of the practices most Jewish people do. He willingly eats pork and sometimes attends/helps the local Roman Catholic church (but this could be do to the town only having one church and most of his friends go there.)

Unlike Scott, Kyle’s diabetes isn’t as serious and he can get away with eating something with extra sugars in it without going into diabetic shock. Though he does carry emergency insulin just incase.

Kyle is aromantic and bisexual. He doesn’t know how to react to intimacy or pick up clues that someone likes him “in that way”, he just assumes all positive contact with him is platonic in nature. He has to be directly told that someone is in love with him for him to understand why they are being overly nice to him.

Since he is only an 9/10 year old, he isn’t aware full of his own sexuality, thus acts the way he thinks a “normal boy” should behave. Despite constantly giving away that he isn’t “normal” by his own definition.

Also he still has his pet Elephant, but it has been moved to a Zoo for a breeding program. He goes to visit it him occasionally and is a junior Zookeeper at the park. He’s going to be officially hired to work there part-time once he’s in high school.

Stan Marsh:

He still does drink, but not to the extent that his father does nor does he get blackout drunk anymore. He’s cut back a lot thanks to going to AA, but is struggling with the 12 step program do to his father leaving alcohol in his reach, and offering him alcohol. He’s also the kid that pulls drinks for his friends and for parties, as both his father and uncle Jimbo will buy it for him if he asks.

Stan tries his best to be vegetarian but has no problem with eating meat as long as he doesn’t witness the slaughter and preparation of the animal. (Including fish.) Blood makes him squeamish, and he becomes overly emotional when he sees an animal in distress.

Even though Stan is straight, when he’s drunk he’ll sleep with anybody. Drunk Stan also believes Kyle is his boyfriend and will run to him for comfort. This normally confuses Kyle, especially when Stan rejects everything when he is sober. It part of the reason Wendy decided that she is genderfluid and created Wendyl, thinking it will keep Stan from “wandering” away from her.

Stan is very proud of his gay dog Sparky. He willingly takes him to gay pride parades and events, and voices his support for his dog.

He still owns that poodle he bought, which he found out was a toy poodle.

If his parents didn’t limit Stan to only 2 dogs, he would have a pack of at least 6, that he’d have follow him everywhere. He instantly can become friends with any dog he meets and feels heartbroken when he can’t take them home.

Stan knows different wolf howls and behaviors, he can almost instantly tell you what a wolf or a dog is trying to tell you. If he ever gets lost in the forest around town. he knows how to find the local wolf/coyote pack to keep himself company.

Out of all the boys, Stan would be the first to go feral if they were abandoned by their parents/society.

Kenny McCormick:

Is literally an Elder God, but only is aware of his immortality. He can’t remember what other powers he has or how to activate them. His real father is Cthulhu, and he hates him.

Kenny cares very deeply for his little sister Karen and older brother Kevin. When he has extra money, he will always buy them something nice. Like a new doll for Karen or powdered doughnuts from the convenience store to share with Kevin, because it’s their favorite treat.

Even though he will do nearly anything for money, he draws the line at eating Hot Rods. (Unless of course eating them would bring his family out of poverty or something...)

Kenny is genderfluid and pansexual. Mostly because he doesn’t care who he sleeps with, especially if their is money involved. Also wearing girl clothing occasionally was at first so he could had it down to Karen, but now he’d proudly admits he does like the look and feel of women’s clothing on him.

He has had pet rats, a pet possum, and raccoon. Currently he’s raising a baby flying squirrel he found abandoned in his yard, and nursing a robin who has a broken wing.

He wants to be a veterinarian when he grows up.

Eric Cartman:

Never thinks things through, and always pays for his schemes one way or another.

Still has a horde of stuffies he keeps in his room and sleeps with. Even having tea parties with them, when his “friends” don’t want to play.

Is an asshole towards Kyle, because he has unrequited feelings for him, but doesn’t want Kyle to know. Most of his plans fall through, because he really doesn’t want to hurt or push Kyle away.

Knows that he should watch his weight and eat better, but subconsciously wants to get diabetes from his obesity so he can be just like Kyle and Scott. He hates that they get special attention to their medical problems at school and thus don’t have to participate in certain exercises in gym.

Cartman is sex repulsed, but is secretly gay. He can’t stand the thought of actually having sex with anyone and believes all intimate contact is rape.

He once broke up Craig and Tweek when he spotted them kissing at Stark’s Pond, then went on a rant of how Craig was taking advantage of his boyfriend, scaring Tweek into thinking he got all of the STDs.

Kyle has force Cartman to clean up “Zaron” all by himself before, after Cartman broke too many rules they came up with after the Stick of Truth was thrown in Stark’s Pond. Although, Cartman made Butters do it for him instead, when Kyle went home.

Four other boys:

Tweek Tweak:

Wasn’t aware his parent’s put meth and other drugs in his coffee to test the blends into being their customers addicted, until Craig discovered what Mr. Tweak was doing. Though Tweek is too scared to report his parents, Craig has used it as a threat to get Tweek expensive things, like videogames and new brand named clothes.

Tweek is a wonderful cook and baker. He wants to change the Tweak Bros. Coffee, into a restaurant kind of like Tim Hortons, where they serve both coffee and homemade food. Though he is too scared to ask his father to put in a proper kitchen in the back of the store, for him to use. Instead he has convinced his mother to sell his famous cupcakes, he bakes at home.

Even without the coffee and drugs, Tweek would still have his twitching tick. It only acts up when he is stressed out. When he is calm, it’s barely noticeable.

Before he bought Stripe #4 for Craig, he was terrified of rodents, after he fell in love with Guinea Pigs and occasionally will discuss proper rodent care with Kenny.

Though now he fears that Craig might eat Stripe one day, do to Guinea Pigs being a delicacy in Peru and not knowing what happened to the other three Guinea Pigs Craig has had before Stripe #4. That’s why Stripe is kept over at his house on weekends and not a Craig’s 24/7.

Tweek has a parrot named “Coffee Crisp”, because it’s his favorite snack and the first words the parrot learned. His parent’s bought Tweek Coffee Crisp, to help keep his paranoia in check.

Coffee Crisp will repeat goverment conspiracy theories do to that fact Tweek listens to them on the radio in his room at night. Coffee Crisp also knows the name of over 150 different types of coffee related products.

Craig gave Tweek a hand knitted Chullo and shall that matched his own, but in green, for his birthday. Tweek is afraid he will ruin them if he wears them, so he only wore the outfit for a day before permanently hanging it up in his closet.

Tweek was questioning his sexuality, but has always been gay. He was just too paranoid about other things to focus long enough to realize this.

Craig Tucker:

Although he behaves like he doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything, he cares deeply on the inside for his friends. He believes showing emotion is weakness and prefers to internalize everything.

He has broken down in front of only two people ever in his life. The first being Clyde after Strip #2 had died, and the second being Tweek.

Craig is aware he is adopted and his native homeland is in Peru. He’s half white and half Peruvian native, and was sent to the US for adoption after people started trying to worship him as the Guinea God.

He’s also aware that he is a god and has god-like abilities. He just doesn’t like to use them and prefers to live a “normal” mortal life. He is aware of Kenny being an Elder God and his immortality. He’s willing to teach Kenny how to be responsible with his powers if he ever find out how to use them.

Craig has eaten Cavy and knows how to make traditional Peruvian dishes that use it, do to being a deity in his homeland. He likes it on occasion, but would never eat a Guinea Pig that he intends to keep as a pet and has buried his previous Guinea Pigs in the back garden of his home. He even had little funerals for them where his friends attended.

Craig likes to knit and will spend hours in his room listening to music and knitting. He hides this from his dad, because it’s not a “manly” hobby. Though every christmas he gives his family handmade sweaters, scarves, mittens, and socks, as gifts.

He doesn’t like coffee like Tweek, but his favorite drink is French Vanilla Cappuccinos. Which he has with whipped cream added, do to his sweet tooth.

Craig can’t dance, but tries to at parties and has fun regardless at his failed attempts. It makes Tweek laugh anyway.

Finally like Tweek’s twitching, flipping people off is a tick Craig had developed. Do to internalizing all of his thoughts and feelings, he automatically flips the bird when he feels upset or angry over someone or thing.

Clyde Donovan

Is just as pervy as Kenny, but is straight.

He has problems with over expressing his emotions and is always crying about something. He uses Craig as his emotional support constantly, and sometimes will sit eating ice cream and watching romance movies alone.

He is embarrassed by his colostomy bag and only his friends (and Mr. Macky) know about it. He has one do to surviving rectal cancer when he was five.

He wants to own his own mexican themed restaurant when he is older or a Taco Bell. He was very disappointed when the government canceled building a giant Taco Bell during the events of the Stick of Truth.

His favorite Raisins girl is Lexus and always request her to be his host when he eats there. He wants to ask her out, but is too scared she will reject him.

When the kids play “The Kingdom of Zaron” now, Clyde remains as a separate third faction and the main “antagonist” of the game, when the humans and elves aren’t fighting each other. He rules over all the kids that want to be “monsters” or non-human or non-elf. Humans and elves can join his side if they proved to be “evil” enough.

Clyde has worn women's clothing for fun before. He likes flowy skirts and dresses. He wants to go to prom one day in a dress and maybe convince his future wife to let him wear the bride’s gown to their wedding.

Whenever he hears that Tweek is having a “backing meltdown” he gets excited, since Tweek makes too much and usually shares by giving him three boxes of baking. He hides this from his dad who want him to be careful of his weight.

Token Black:

Likes to buy expensive things for Nicole and his friends. He has no idea the value of money and genuinely gets confused when his friend say they or their parents can’t afford something.

Kenny McCormick creeps him out, and he thinks his family just chooses to live in a garbage dump. Though he does get along with Karen McCormick and had bought her lunch a few times, since he thinks it’s cruel for her parents to not give her money or food for school.

He is the second person Clyde will run to when he is upset, though unlike Craig, he dosen’t really know how to react or comfort Clyde. He normally just stands there with Clyde crying in his shoulder, awkwardly patting his back saying “there, there...” until Clyde feels better.

Contrary to belief (and Cartman) Token doesn’t like listening to Beyonce or hip hop type music. He actually likes listening to old folk music and polkas.

Weird Al Yankovic is his favorite entertainer and “Just Eat it” is his favorite song by him.

Token sometimes says racist things against his white friends by accident. After which he profusely apologizes if he catches himself or someone calls him out on it.

He rather play chess than play football or basketball.

#south park #Headcanon #kyle broflovski #stan marsh #kenny mccormick #eric cartman #tweek tweak #craig tucker #clyde donovan #token black #kisa talks #I have more #this just too way to long to type out

91 notes · View notes

lekshk · 4 years

Text

Lock Down Diaries Part 1: When PG Becomes Home

I was a little girl alone in my little world who dreamed of a little home for me.

~ Priscilla Ahn (Song: Dream)

I think this lock down has been an eye opener in several ways. For one, I never knew I enjoyed sitting at home! I stay in a PG in Bangalore (which has 5 floors and 2 apartments on every floor with 4 bedrooms and a hall each). There’s a single room and the other 3 rooms are shared by 3-4 girls each. As my weekends were usually packed earlier, my inmates used to joke my single room is nothing but a hotel room– a place to dump things and sleep at night. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would keep myself occupied at home, if I could call it one!

Earlier we were approximately 100 girls and by the time lock down was announced, it got reduced to 11, in fact rather 10 + 1 because the 11th inmate was a girl staying in another PG before and who moved in with her sister here. She was now paying rent at both the places!

The best part about the lockdown for me was when the 9 girls in my apartment moved to their homes because of work from home option! Trust me, for the past 1 year I have been searching a 1 BHK of my choice but was getting none because I refused to move out of the area I was staying in! So attached was I to the locality (which I still am), my happiness knew no bounds when I got the whole apartment to myself!

PS: my inmates are great. It’s just that I craved for solitude and that explains my need to be out on weekends too earlier.

Once I grasped the fact that my desire for solitude had become a reality, I made myself comfortable at home. The balcony, cloth rack, hall, TV, all to myself, I became the queen of the apartment at 4th floor!

Immediately I set out to work. The first thing I did was rearrange the room. That mere act itself became refreshing for me. The changed layout opened the window of my mind. It simply elevated my mood. I realized the junk both outside and inside, I felt relieved to see my room (aka matchbox as I fondly call it) began breathing to life with light seeping in. Getting rid of unwanted things de cluttered my mind. Also, as there was no one to monitor what I was doing, I got the complete freedom to do what I want which was the BIGGEST PLUS.

Picture 1: Matchbox transformed to Cape of Good Hope

Taking an example of the character named Divya from the movie Bangalore days, I glass painted the window of my room. I used finger painting technique for this and brought colors to my matchbox.

Picture 2: Finger glass painting of window (colorful sticky notes with my favorite motivational quotes as background to the painting)

Next, I set out to bring more conversations to my room. Stationary items and colorful sticky notes are my all-time favorites. I set out to make the Tree of My Life, an exercise given to me by my therapist earlier. The tree of life is nothing but connecting your life with the sections of a tree.

Picture 3: Tree of Life on the cupboard behind me

Since work from home was a new feature, never done before, my initial few weeks just went in sleeping well. It looked as if I had years of sleep to catch up to. And indeed it was! If you recall, my weekends were packed earlier, so my body rested only during sleep at night. Sleeping through the day gave me the well-deserved break! One month went by just becoming a human “being” from a human “doing”. I also realized working at nights made me more productive because the stillness of the night gave me the concentration I needed to work efficiently. One month of the lock down went by like this.

After that, my body started to feel fresh again. Now I was ready to “do” things. I continued my reading habit and made it a point to read 20 minutes daily. Because I have been trained in Carnatic vocal and Bharatanatyam, I decided to nurture my desire of learning painting because I love it! And that’s how I came across finger painting to which I am addicted till date.

I enrolled for an online finger-painting workshop. And it truly brought out joy in me because painting is an activity which can get meditative and if it’s with your fingers, it adds a personalized touch by bringing all your emotions in it.

Picture 4: Finger paintings (Bangalore Drawing Room)

Long back I had attended a mind valley master class by Robin Sharma in which he had talked about the 60 minute club, the essence of which is simply this - 20 minute exercise, 20 minute meditation, 20 minute a creative activity. For exercise, I chose dance, for meditation, I chose anilom vilom and/or surya namaskar and for creativity either painting or reading or listening to the radio.

I decided not to exert my body with over activity. Dance once a week, surya namaskar twice a week, anilom vilom twice a week. Weekends were cheat days.

I had the habit of making a to do list earlier just to keep the day interesting and something to look forward to. When I checked that, I realized my desire to learn sign language was pending because of my reluctance to travel to the center which was far. As if the lock down heard my prayers, they were conducting online classes. I didn’t waste even a second and grabbed the seat in their first ever virtual classroom. Two weeks, Monday to Friday, 4-5 pm was booked for learning basic sign language where I met some amazing bunch of people passionate to learn like me and a teacher passionate to teach us.

Picture 5: Day 1 of Virtual Basic Sign Language Course with GiftAbled

Picture 6: Completing the course

Learning virtually wasn’t easy because it was a new concept for me but somehow everything just fell in place. I dared to show my vulnerability here and got the supporting hands (virtually) of my teacher, founder and my fellow mates. The 2 week course work was fun, interactive and so supportive! I seemed to have entered a new world altogether!

Post that there was no looking back. I knew I was going to crack this lock down. PG had now become my home. Big Bazaar my savior for online shopping of essentials. I bought biscuits, ready to cook stuff for evening snacks as I was used to in office. Black coffee with honey or jaggery in the evenings became my lock down ritual. Holding the coffee mug in the terrace and looking at the entire Whitefield area, calling my parents (settled in Trivandrum) around that time every day mandatory became a part of the routine. A lot of people at the neighboring buildings chose to play cricket or badminton or yoga at their terraces during the time. Social distancing at its best, seeing people in the evenings gave me the sense of what’s happening around.

I would go out to purchase fruits from a nearby vendor once a week with all the precautionary measures.

Slowly, the lock down, work from home, virtual classes, calling parents, PG life post lock down became part of my daily life. Occasionally I would cook. Sometimes, I would revamp the food the cook prepared. Like for instance, if it was Dosa for breakfast, I would convert it to Cheese Masala Dosa. Bringing some change here and there brought out joy in me. I started eating a lot of fruits which I didn’t earlier.

After getting comfortable with online interactions, I decided to be part of online community gatherings, one such, being with Dialogues Cafe - A topic on how people were coping up. I also participated in online book club meets like Bring Your Own Book, Dialogues with Books etc.

Now, I decided to continue my other passion - Volunteering. Earlier, Bangalore traffic would discourage me to travel anywhere! Volunteering Online for Volunteer For a Cause (VFC) resolved this and I got to know about so many days celebrated nationally and/or internationally! Starting from World Earth Day celebrated on 22 April, World Book Day on 24 April, World Wishbone Day on 06 May, World Thalassemia Day on 08 May, Menstrual Health Day on 28 May, Elderly Abuse Awareness Day and the June month culminating with the Pride Month, I was on a volunteering spree uploading pictures in social media handles to create awareness! I started gaining a sense of purpose through them. I also attended online awareness sessions conducted by them on how to do your bit in rescuing animals or know the city better or what to do in accident cases or how to do your bit for a greener, sustainable society or waste management or what’s child abuse or what’s mental health? I also made customized handmade cards and posed them online to celebrate birthdays of children residing in children’s home or women residing in rehabilitation centers.

Picture 7: Throwback pictures - World Earth Day (22 April)

Picture 8: Bookfie - World Book Day (24 April)

Pictures 9: World Wishbone Day (06 May)

Picture 10: World Thalassemia Day (08 May)

Picture 11: Menstrual Health Day (28 May)

Picture 12: Elderly Abuse Awareness Day

Picture 13: Pride Month - A Dot Mandala using pearl acrylic colors on my diary (Proud to be an Ally)

Picture 14: Birthday Jingles

At workplace too, I made it a point to attend webinars on relationships, leadership, coping with anxiety and I was unfortunate enough to listen to some amazing speakers who shared their profound wisdom and experiences. Life started becoming more and meaningful as the days passed. Having a good team to work was an added bonus.

Weekends I would also connect with my school friends on zoom call and bitch about our classmates. This lock down period, a lot of groups became active and we got an opportunity to reconnect.

Finally, because of a writing habit cultivated from childhood, I would write the following in my thought journal almost every day–

I AM GOOD ENOUGH. I DESERVE RESPECT.

I AM NOT THE PROBLEM. THE PROBLEM IS THE PROBLEM.

Whenever possible, I would also write in my gratitude journal things to thank about.

I didn’t know if it made any sense, but it told me about the probable good times ahead.

There were problems in the PG like water, electricity, lift not working and so on and so forth. But we sailed through all this - PG inmates, cook, caretaker and of course the owners. The 11 of us who didn’t even know each others names, now made it a point to stay in touch through a Whatsapp group we formed. There were difference in opinions, rude talk, fights with the owners, care taker, rent dispute etc but more or less we managed through the lock down period.I remember reading a friend’s Facebook post to not to leave Whatsapp groups but instead use this as an opportunity to stay connected because that’s what we need the most right now. I couldn’t agree any better.

Part 2: Heading Home

Two months later a direct train from Bangalore to Trivandrum was started and 1800 bookings were expected for the train to get moving. I immediately registered in the Karnataka state website Seva Sindhu and NORKA roots (for people residing outside Kerala but within India) and Covid 19 Jagratha website for Kerala state. I thought it would take at least a week for bookings to happen but I got the PNR number the very next day and the train was to leave the day after! I quickly packed my bags anticipating a 2-week institution quarantine.

The train was to leave at 8 pm from Bangalore Cantonment station and I reached the station at 7 pm. That’s when I got a shock from the police there that I was late and I had to get a medical check-up done to get a token to board the train! Luckily, I had reached the station in an auto so I asked him to take me to the place where the check up was being done to get the token. It was at Palace Grounds and I had the shock of my life to see the police, BMTC buses, volunteers all shouting at me to get the token quickly!

There were 3 counters- 2 for registration and one for checking the temperature! I quickly completed the registration formalities and got the token! The joke was I thought all these people were going to different states and since it was already 7.45 pm, I was trying to rush out to go back to the station. That’s when I realized all these people (close to 1500) were headed to where I was and they were waiting since 12 pm to board the train! That’s when I got to know along with PNR number message, there was another one which gave details about what time to reach and where. Unfortunately, I hadn’t received it! I was lucky enough to get an auto driver who understood the severity of the situation and waited should I need to be taken back to the station. I payed him extra and thanked him and waited with the rest of the passengers to board the bus which would take us to the station. Surprisingly, people showed tremendous restraint as they patiently waited for their turns to board the bus. Finally, after an hour, we were all taken to the station, given food kits and compartment numbers to board. Temperature was checked yet again before boarding the train. It was a chair car non- A/C passenger train which had space for 2 passengers in one seat. At 10.30 pm, the train started to Kerala. My co passenger was a mother of two from Delhi whose children were in Bangalore. They were heading to their newly built house in Kerala which was the safest to stay for them at the time! The journey became eventful having her by my side. We shared our experiences, our thoughts, life in Bangalore, life in Delhi, future life in Kerala, politics etc. The most suffocating experience was wearing a mask for 15 hours! But one couldn’t take any chances! Kudos to all the volunteers who relentlessly and patiently worked to see we reached our destinations safely! Special thanks to the Bengluru police, BMTC for their support.

Sleep was a disturbing one due to the chair car. But early morning when the train hit Palakkad station, the view, the greenery to be precise, was so refreshing! Though it was a direct train from Bangalore to Trivandrum, the train halted at 4 more stations in Kerala – Palakkad, Trissur, Ernakulam, Kottayam. The moment the train hit the station announcements started coming in – to stand in the designated areas marked for social distancing. The authorities wore Personal Protective Equipments (PPE). The journey now became eventful and filled with greenery. I ate the bun from the food kit I had got and ate the fruits I had packed for the journey. It was 12.30 pm, when I reached my station. At the counter they suggested institution quarantine as my parents were elderly. However, I convinced them for a home quarantine because I had the provision for a separate room with a separate entry and exit and having an attached bathroom. After they filled in my details, our baggage were probably fumigated and I had the option of either calling my father to pick me up from the station or be taken home in a private vehicle as I stayed half an hour from the station. I chose the latter because it was too late to call my father and it wasn’t allowed to wait at the station.

The private vehicle arranged was such the doors, dicky was opened by the driver himself and I had to place my baggage and remove them on my own. Hands were sanitized and after dropping me home, his car would be sanitized again before taking the next passenger. Throughout the proceedings I was very impressed by the arrangements made by the government. I just saw my parents while alighting from the car. I entered my room with an attached bathroom from a separate entrance. Thereafter, food was placed at my doorstep everyday till the quarantine got over. We never had a direct contact throughout the quarantine period. Health volunteers visited me and placed a “this house is in quarantine” sticker outside my house gate. The 2 months in my PG prepped me for the 2-week quarantine! All communication was either through Whatsapp or phone call. Finally, after quarantine got over, I got a certificate from the health inspector stating I was free of quarantine after being advised one by the state.

So many people are working hard day in day out to fight this pandemic! The least service I could do for them is staying home safely. My cousin who is a doctor had already instructed my mother on the quarantine measures to be taken before I took occupancy. Meanwhile my school friend too had given me the home quarantine guidelines. I think by far this has been the most interesting independent experience I have had, living in silos. I have been living away from my parents for the past 2.5 years.

Pictures 14: Heading for Qurantine

The most courageous thing for me was the train ride and the umpteen faith on the journey ahead. Of course, being Kerala, I knew I would be well taken care of. My parents being elderly, I also had the option during quarantine to get food delivered at my doorstep through volunteers at a nominal charge of Rs 20/meal. Since my mother insisted she would cook, I didn’t go for it. All in all, in the current scenario, I have so many people to thank to, so many moments to be proud and amazed at and most importantly, so many moments to pat on my back and tell myself – well done!

Since staying with parents have limitations in terms of independence and freedom, I continued to entertain myself watching movies on Amazon Prime, Netflix, stand up comedies on you tube and my favorite - 2019 Magsaysay award winner Ravish Kumar’s speeches. Laughter and reality check can help to keep a mind active and sane. Reading and writing have now become occasional and I ain’t complaining. Circumstances and environment has changed and I too am taking things as it comes.

Picture 15: Post lock down and room quarantine

To conclude - “A relationship with myself” is what I “earned” this lock down. I would make sure to talk to a close friend about how I felt till I became capable of managing my emotions on my own safe in the knowledge I could talk to her anytime. Similarly, she would talk to me the same manner. It is true when they say we “thrive” in relationships. From the webinar on relationships at work place I learnt, when we seek relationships, we are, in reality searching for ourselves and there’s nothing wrong in feeling lonely. “Acknowledging it” and moving “forward” to change it to a more positive feeling is a brave effort we could all attempt. Don’t at any point undermine your thoughts and feelings. I still do at times, despite knowing it. But like I said earlier (I am good enough, so being kind to myself is what I am practicing off late and seems to be the toughest challenge till date). “Seeking help” is another brave opportunity I am giving myself. Hanging in to the wonderful relationships I have with the realistic knowledge they are susceptible to change took me 2 months of lock down. Also, confronting an expectation not met and seeing what can be done amicably is another challenge I am sailing through with hiccups. I am neither defining them or myself through this experience. Because the right things have come to me when I least expected it. I had umpteen disappointments. Feeling stuck has been a horrible experience anytime and yet, by giving my mind the exercise to experience it has made only me a stronger individual for sure.

Knowing who you are and what you can be is itself a great experience of “being”. Cherish it and seek hope, if possible, when there seems none at all because-

“Hope is a good thing, may be the best of things and no good thing ever dies”

~ Shawshank Redemption

0 notes

carseygentry-blog · 5 years

Photo

This summer I took a quick getaway to the Hudson Valley with my mom for a girls weekend. There’s a tranquility about escaping New York City for the quiet, leafy beauty of upstate New York, especially in the summer, and I’ve shared my tips for camping in the Hudson Valley before. This was the first time that I visited the Hudson Valley without roughing it—instead of hiking and canoeing, we enjoyed an artistic weekend that included shopping in local boutiques, visiting a sculpture art center and taking in some al fresco theater.

We stayed in Beacon, New York, at the newly opened Inn and Spa at Beacon. After we checked in, we were exploring the solarium and roof deck on the top floor when we met the owner and designer of the hotel. He immediately asked us which room we were staying in, and when he found out we were on the top floor, he offered to upgrade us to a different room since they were planning to have construction done on the upper roof deck the next morning, and he didn’t want us to be disturbed by the workmen. He was so thoughtful, and we ended up in a room that was even more spacious than the one we had booked, with two separate bedrooms for my mom and me. I also had a relaxing massage at the spa the next morning. Overall, we loved our stay and would highly recommend this inn to those traveling in the area.

We spent some time shopping on Beacon’s Main Street, which is lined with galleries, vintage clothing shops and quirky gift stores. I bought a few dresses at Echo, some playful stocking stuffers for my nieces at Dream in Plastic, and a handmade glass bloom vase at Riverwinds Gallery.

That evening, we headed to the Boscobel House and Gardens for the Hudson Valley Shakespeare Festival. Boscobel House is located right on the Hudson River with a view of West Point across the valley. It is the site of the Hudson Valley Shakespeare Festival each year. The festival runs throughout the summer, starting in early June and playing through Labor Day weekend. The lineup includes some Shakespeare plays, but also plays about Shakespeare, like the one we saw, or plays that feel appropriate for the theme and setting. This year everyone was buzzing about the performance of Pride and Prejudice. We saw The Book of Will, a new original play about the two men responsible for securing William Shakespeare’s legacy by publishing his works. The show was inventive and engrossing, and the stellar cast effortlessly blended language of Shakespeare’s time with modern idioms, often to comedic effect.

Most of the guests arrive about an hour before the show and picnic on the lawn, and we saw plenty of people popping champagne bottles and kids playing in the grass before the show. There is also a cafe on site, so we were able to partake of our own picnic dinner and drinks as well. The performances are under a tent on the lawn, and the cast really utilizes the setting of the vast estate to their advantage. The show began with the entire cast appearing out of thin air from beyond the ridge near the river and parading up to the tent to applause and fanfare from the guests. The Shakespeare Festival usually has 3-4 rotating shows, and the same cast appears in each performance, which I think is really impressive and also adds to the authenticity, since in Shakespeare’s day that’s the way a theater company would operate as well. If you have the chance to see a performance, absolutely go!

The next day, we took a trip to Storm King Art Center. I’ve visited this sprawling art park before, but wanted the chance to share its 500 acres featuring hundreds of sculptures with my mom. The work is mostly modern, and is very much site specific, meant to be viewed in contrast or in harmony with the surrounding fields, mountains and sky. When I visited with my husband, we hiked around on the trails to see the different sculptures, but with my mom we took the tram tour, which was a great way to see the highlights of the park (and avoid getting a terrible sunburn too!).

I hope this post helps inspire you to plan your own Hudson Valley getaway.

0 notes

wp-yahoo-style-1042-yahoopa-blog · 7 years

Text

49-Year-Old Celine Dion Disrobed for ‘Vogue’

yahoo

Over the past few years, Celine Dion has transformed into a bona fide couture queen.

From rocking edgy Giambattista Valli frocks to sitting front row at Christian Dior, the 49-year-old songstress is currently ruling the celebrity fashion scene — and for the past week, Vogue has been documenting her every move during Couture Fashion Week in Paris.

If that’s not enough, between shows, Dion even stripped down to give fans a “naked fact” to ponder.

Here's a little naked fact to ponder while Celine Dion changes looks between shows: for the past five years she has worn haute couture near exclusively for her own performances (in Las Vegas and on her current "mini-tour" of Europe). She performs a minimum two hours a night, five or six nights a week, dancing and curtseying and generally gesticulating sans abandon, in handmade, hand-beaded delicacies designed solely to walk a catwalk or a carpet (and often with handlers). For Celine's orders, the houses send teams to Nevada for typically three fittings, before the garments are ultimately finished in her local, private atelier. Armani Prive, Schiaparelli, Giambattista Valli, Versace…only a partial list. Everyone, basically. In Vegas, Velcro panels are added to allow for her ribcage to expand or for a quick outfit change. Micro straps of elasticized chiffon prevent a slit from becoming a sloppy situation mid-squat. Shoes—always heels, never platforms—are ordered one size smaller (she is normally a 38) and refitted with metal shanks. Says Celine, "We have to make haute couture industrial." And, more enigmatically: "The clothes follow me; I do not follow the clothes." Which is to say: the haute couture, with all its fragility and handcraft, has to perform professionally for Ms. Dion. And privately as well. Years ago, Celine bought a classic little black dress from the Christian Dior atelier when the house was overseen by John Galliano. It is simple, falling to mid calf, and narrow as can be with just a hint of stretch. It requires a minimum of jewelry, a statement bracelet or perhaps one of the major diamond rings she designed with her late husband Rene Angelil: two pear cuts set in a wide pave band, or two hearts of diamond and emerald abstractly interlocking, on a cushion of yet more diamonds. This LBD forces you to walk one foot in front of the other. This is a dress Celine knows well and clearly loves, the simplest evocation of the private luxury of couture and the total antithesis of the red carpet hoopla that attends the union of fashion and celebrity. It is also the dress she wore to Rene's funeral. #CelineTakesCouture Photo by @sophfei.

A post shared by Vogue (@voguemagazine) on Jul 3, 2017 at 10:25pm PDT

In an Instagram post from the Vogue account, Dion sits in a strategic cross-legged pose, with one of her high-end outfits on the floor beside her.

But it’s not all about gratuitous nudity — the arty Instagram shows a glimpse of just how much the singer knows about couture designs.

"They see me; I don't see them," is Celine Dion's line on the great blob of paparazzi and fans that follows her everywhere. She gives them any picture they ask for, plus a great many more. Consider an appointment with at the house of Schiaparelli, where she poses for the creative director Bertrand Guyon on a window sill overlooking the Place Vendome. She wears a tiny whimsical dress of Swarovski chainmail re-embroidered with yet more crystals and high sparkly Victorian boots–a little Twiggy, a little Tina Turner. Says her dancer Pepe Munoz: "That's a rockstar!" Says Libby Hahn, who handles public relations for the house: "I am fairly certain she was a rockstar before she put on the dress." Says Celine's own longtime photographer Denise Truscello (a Canadian cinephile with her own rockstar style), thinking of the long lenses poised on the place below: "Is the dress pulled down in the back?" Says Celine Dion: "They might see my butt, but I don't think they mind." #CelineTakesCouture Photographed by @denisetruscello

A post shared by Vogue (@voguemagazine) on Jul 4, 2017 at 5:35am PDT

“For the past five years she has worn haute couture near exclusively for her own performances (in Las Vegas and on her current ‘mini-tour’ of Europe). She performs a minimum two hours a night, five or six nights a week, dancing and curtseying and generally gesticulating sans abandon, in handmade, hand-beaded delicacies designed solely to walk a catwalk or a carpet (and often with handlers),” the post explains. “For Celine’s orders, the houses send teams to Nevada for typically three fittings, before the garments are ultimately finished in her local, private atelier. Armani Prive, Schiaparelli, Giambattista Valli, Versace…only a partial list. Everyone, basically. In Vegas, Velcro panels are added to allow for her ribcage to expand or for a quick outfit change. Micro straps of elasticized chiffon prevent a slit from becoming a sloppy situation mid-squat. Shoes—always heels, never platforms—are ordered one size smaller (she is normally a 38) and refitted with metal shanks.”

“Says Celine, ‘We have to make haute couture industrial.’ And, more enigmatically: ‘The clothes follow me; I do not follow the clothes.'”

A post shared by Vogue (@voguemagazine) on Jul 3, 2017 at 10:08am PDT

While she’s always been an influencer when it comes to style, she truly reached juggernaut status last year when she teamed up with “image architect” Law Roach, the mastermind behind other iconic celebrity styles for women like Zendaya and Ariana Grande.

Celine Dion is frustrated by fashion's current revolving door policy, the relentless firings and hirings at the top (amen to that!). She is concerned that "the dream" of elegance is disappearing, for as much fun as she had in her beloved Vetements Titanic sweatshirt (and we have Law Roach for that brilliant post-ironic gesture!), she believe in the magic of hats, gloves and total looks, of a world in which Lisa Fonssagrives could step from the pages of Vogue and through the doors of today's Ritz. Mostly she laments the red carpet hordes with the incessant questions about whose clothes and jewels one is wearing. "Mine" is her answer. Fashion is public for Celine; jewelry is personal. Sometimes, when she is at home in Las Vegas and missing her partner Rene, she slips on a caftan and all her jewels, and quietly retreats to her bath, sans children, sans fans, sans circus. #CelineTakesCouture Photo by @sophfei.

A post shared by Vogue (@voguemagazine) on Jul 4, 2017 at 7:38am PDT

Read more from Yahoo Beauty + Style:

7 Celebs Wear Their American Pride

Zendaya Remixes the Classic Smokey Eye With a Surprising Color

5 New Foundations That Truly Wear Like a Second Skin

Follow us on Instagram, Facebook, and Pinterest for nonstop inspiration delivered fresh to your feed, every day. For Twitter updates, follow @YahooStyle and @YahooBeauty.

#news #_revsp:wp.yahoo.style.us #Vogue #celebrity #_author:Hilary Hagerman #Celine Dion #couture #_uuid:cf62a0a7-c0f2-3e7f-b32e-6595f2b7c2b8 #Fashion Week #instagram #video #_lmsid:a0Vd000000AE7lXEAT

2 notes · View notes

screemagazine · 8 years

Text

The Saddest Joy

On the release of Viktor’s Joy “I used to be clean”, a few words about the album, and a few more words with guitarist and songwriter Kaarel Malken… Having been tipped off by a musician friend from Herefordshire, I went to see Viktor’s Joy play in a pop up bar in some nondescript corner of Berlin when I was there last year. The walls were scoured and mottled with patches of paint over bare plaster, the lighting dim. Viktor’s Joy are led by Kaarel Malken (guitar, vocals). He played fingerpicked guitar with a gentle but technical drummer (Jim Good) on a stripped down kit. As we waited for them to come on music from Leonard Cohen’s first album set up the ambience, an obvious precedent. I think it is probably lazy journalism to write soundbites like “Viktor’s Joy are Estonia’s answer to Leonard Cohen”, but the restraint of the music and depth of the lyrics encourage such behaviour. Another comparison is Elliott Smith, particularly evident on the poetic and wearily lilting Parade Song #2, which even the title appears to be a conscious nod to the dear, departed American singer, sounding reminiscent of something off Either/or. The gig was beautiful, and swept us away. At the end of the gig I spoke to Kaarel about his music, and he was kind enough to give me a pre-release of the album in a handmade cover for review in SCree. I looked forward to playing it at home, and have played it sporadically since. The album is out now, and I recommend you hear it, particularly if you are keen on melancholy folky singer songwriter stuff as I am. Some music you hear seems to pose with miserable depth as a kind of sad expression forced to convince of profundity. This music speaks of genuine experience, and seems to talk of growing up in Estonia and life experiences that transcend the specifics of their birth. All the Promises Ever Made talk of the perils of addiction and how easily we fall into smoking, drinking, drugging. There is a nostalgia to it as well as regret. The refrain “never again” speaks of our brief determination to avoid destructive behaviour that is so easily forgotten. The music sits in a rolling groove that has something of the Velvet Underground in the swooping electric guitar part. There is variety on this record as well as coherence, in the instrumentation as in the arrangements. The following track The Taste I remember, She Became a Ghost, is woven through with fast picking and tells a story effectively and evocatively. It is haunting, ethereal and worn with a weary strength. The guitar playing is almost Spanish classical style, particularly in the interludes. He makes use of repetition to effectively show the tide of passing time. Even more Spanish is the virtuosic opening lick to Lake Ontario, which is a short flourish before the cyclical picking comes in. Again, there is an anecdotal narrative to it which is poetic and evocative. Characters are introduced alongside the places they live. Glacial vocals echo between verses. The production is reverb-heavy and deep. It sounds like it was recorded in an empty building. The closing track Sisters ends on a slightly different note. There is a warmth in the recording that offsets the wistfulness. Like the bittersweet end to an eventful journey.

A few questions: When did you first pick up the guitar? Growing up in a small town, surrounded by nothing but Soviet block houses, derelict playgrounds and seemingly endless fields of peat, there were really not that many options. Either you take to kicking around a ball or you take to kicking around other kids, most seemed to prefer the latter. Luckily my sisters, being ten years older than me, saw the last of MTV and VH1 . By the time I got there the funeral procession was over and the burial was about to end - the music industry, wearing shorts, was filming the open grave for a new reality TV show. I was the social experiment, the kid brother, the one who had to wear "Guns n’ Roses" T-shirts and grow his hair long - during a time of shaved heads and garbage disco music. In the late nineties my father got offered a job, in Moscow, as a warehouse keeper. A few times a year he’d return with a trunk full of shovels, power drills, hammers, saws and other tools he had managed to steal from the warehouse. Everything spray painted red to fool the Russian customs into believing they were used. There had been a snowstorm the night before my dad arrived. An endless carpet of pure white. I was leaning over the sill, looking out from the kitchen window. My eyes were watery from the cold, but my excitement got the best of me. He parked his Lada and from the backseat he would lift out a large cardboard box, with the words “Dolby Surround” printed on its side. Little did I know that the content of that very box would affect my day to day existence to an almost unhealthy degree. During the following years our collection of pirated cassette tapes and compact discs grew with albums from Nirvana, Offspring, Dire Straits, Korn, Kino etc. Anything the shopkeeper in Moscow could copy on a CD-R and send to my sisters. Perhaps it was the sub-woofer that ignited my obsession to become a drummer, perhaps not, but by the time I turned ten I had begun taking lessons in the local music school. My teacher was a middle aged marching band percussionist with a serious boozing problem. The four years under his tyranny taught me more about the side effects of binge drinking rather than drums. “For Christ sake boy, you keep missing the f*ing beat train!” : something I’ll remember for the rest of my life. I called it quits after failing to perform to a handful of Sunday afternoon pensioners, my mother and my teacher, in the city hall. Years later, on my way to university, I walked past a plate glass window of a small music shop. The sign said : “20% off all instruments!!!” in big bright letters. With the little I had saved, working night shifts as a receptionist in a hotel, and with the help of my parents, I scraped together enough to buy a blue XS plywood guitar. I composed my first song three days later. A two chord, short lived disaster. Last time I saw the guitar, hung by its neck, behind a plate glass window of a pawn shop - once more, discounted. What have you been doing up until now? Do you have any other interests beyond music? I’ve worked as a dishwasher, pastry chef, phone agent, engineer, as an extra in low budget German TV-movies. In other words, you name it - I’ve done it. Right now I’m sitting in a cafeteria a few blocks down the street from my house. I’ve been coming here for years to read and write. The bohemian life…. you know. These days the place is full of prams and crying toddlers. One of them is drooling on my pants sleeve, as we speak. I find this drone of life calming. How did you find recording the album? Although the process started off in a proper studio, under the guidance of a fantastic sound engineer, Martin Fiedler, I decided to continue by myself in the comfort of my bedroom - for the larger part. I suppose I felt intimidated by the expensive Neumann’s and the professional approach, deeming myself unworthy. In the long run, the positives outweighed the negatives and I learned how to use the equipment I had bought or borrowed from my friends ( mainly from my good buddy and band member Jim Good), during the years I’ve lived in Berlin. I guess the hardest part was recording the drums. I used an old Russian Oktava that Jim brought back from Estonia a few summers ago - the only one that seemed to yield results. Jim is a subtle player , not a 4/4 rock drummer, and getting the sound I was looking for wasn’t as easy as I expected. It all worked out thanks to Jim’s infinite patience. Along the way Michael Brinkworth came to my aid with his beautiful 70’s Fender (I’m sorry if it wasn’t a Fender, Michael) and his ideas. Always a few hours late and out of breath - always passionate. He’s the most prolific songwriter I know and his input was more than welcomed. Some of my guitar tracks and vocal takes were done in a rehearsal room that used to belong to Nina Hagen (something the locals seemed to take a lot of pride in). A damp basement full of old carpets and stale air. I spent a few weeks locked behind that massive metal door singing the same lines, over and over again. It was the following Autumn when I met Mauno Meesit from Grainy Records. He was in the midst of recording his own album and was in need of a classical guitar. Our mutual friend, who knew I had one, got him to come to one of my shows. We barely spoke after the gig but in a couple of days I received an E-mail and from there on we got to speaking. Turned out he liked the show and was enthusiastic about the album I had been recording. Soon enough he proposed me to join his label and I accepted without hesitation. I saw how serious he was about his own music and my mind was made up even before he asked. I’m not the easiest person to work with but Mauno’s, Buddha like, calmness bridged our way. The result is on my table, boxes full of it. Who could have imagined… What was the inspiration for the songs? I consider “I used to be clean” a concept album. A retroperspective glimpse into my childhood and how it was to grow up in the East during a time of despair and poverty as well as unity and love. I’m sure these themes will carry on into the future of my lyrics. Inspiration is an entity. Some sort of an astral being that enters and exits one’s body whenever and wherever. During these times I’m nothing but a medium in a state of unconscious effortlessness. Many of my songs are not born out of inspiration. These are the ones I’m never fully satisfied with, the conscious ones, the ones I labor over. The beauty of these songs lies in their ability to grow and change as I do. I’m learning how to work without inspiration yet remain open to it - it’s not that easy. How do you go about writing? My day kick-starts in the afternoon after a few cups of coffee. I try to write something in my diary every day. Sometimes it’s a poem or a short story, but mostly it amounts to nothing more but everyday uneventfulness. It takes me weeks, months, at times even years, to finish a song. Lately I feel as If I’m in dire need of a break. Someplace quiet, outside this metropolitan cesspool. Someplace small where people go to sleep when the sun sets. Someplace where people talk about ordinary things, sit by a card table, eat canned sausages and drink clear spirits. Any place considered “culturally inactive” according to metropolitan standards. Where can we hear it? www.bandcamp.com/viktorsjoy or www.grainyrecords.com Where can we hear you play? The album release show, in Berlin, will take place in Neue Nachbarn on the 5th of April. https://www.facebook.com/events/1879058472306213/1879252808953446/?notif_t=like&notif_id=1490094469947888 What are your plans for the future? Organize a couple of shows in Estonia and focus on writing and recording new tracks.

#music #folk #singer-songwriter #viktor's joy #album review #interview #kaarel malken #I used to be clean #new album #Berlin #Estonia

2 notes · View notes

gravityzine · 8 years

Text

The Saddest Joy

On the release of Viktor’s Joy “I used to be clean”, a few words about the album, and a few more words with song writer Kaarel Malken...

Having been tipped off by a musician friend from Herefordshire, I went to see Viktor's Joy play in a pop up bar in some nondescript corner of Berlin when I was there last year. The walls were scoured and mottled with patches of paint over bare plaster, the lighting dim. Viktor's Joy are led by Kaarel Malken (guitar, vocals). He played fingerpicked guitar with a gentle but technical drummer (Jim Good) on a stripped down kit. As we waited for them to come on music from Leonard Cohen's first album set up the ambience, an obvious precedent. I think it is probably lazy journalism to write soundbites like “Viktor's Joy are Estonia's answer to Leonard Cohen”, but the restraint of the music and depth of the lyrics encourage such behaviour. Another comparison is Elliott Smith, particularly evident on the poetic and wearily lilting Parade Song #2, which even the title appears to be a conscious nod to the dear, departed American singer, sounding reminiscent of something off Either/or. The gig was beautiful, and swept us away. At the end of the gig I spoke to Kaarel about his music, and he was kind enough to give me a pre-release of the album in a handmade cover for review in SCree. I looked forward to playing it at home, and have played it sporadically since. The album is out now, and I recommend you hear it, particularly if you are keen on melancholy folky singer songwriter stuff as I am. Some music you hear seems to pose with miserable depth as a kind of sad expression forced to convince of profundity. This music speaks of genuine experience, and seems to talk of growing up in Estonia and life experiences that transcend the specifics of their birth. All the Promises Ever Made talk of the perils of addiction and how easily we fall into smoking, drinking, drugging. There is a nostalgia to it as well as regret. The refrain “never again” speaks of our brief determination to avoid destructive behaviour that is so easily forgotten. The music sits in a rolling groove that has something of the Velvet Underground in the swooping electric guitar part. There is variety on this record as well as coherence, in the instrumentation as in the arrangements. The following track The Taste I remember, She Became a Ghost, is woven through with fast picking and tells a story effectively and evocatively. It is haunting, ethereal and worn with a weary strength. The guitar playing is almost Spanish classical style, particularly in the interludes. He makes use of repetition to effectively show the tide of passing time. Even more Spanish is the virtuosic opening lick to Lake Ontario, which is a short flourish before the cyclical picking comes in. Again, there is an anecdotal narrative to it which is poetic and evocative. Characters are introduced alongside the places they live. Glacial vocals echo between verses. The production is reverb-heavy and deep. It sounds like it was recorded in an empty building. The closing track Sisters ends on a slightly different note. There is a warmth in the recording that offsets the wistfulness. Like the bittersweet end to an eventful journey.

A few questions:

When did you first pick up the guitar?

Growing up in a small town, surrounded by nothing but Soviet block houses, derelict playgrounds and a seemingly endless fields of peat, there were really not that many options. Either you take to kicking around a ball or you take to kicking around other kids, most seemed to prefer the latter. Luckily my sisters, being ten years older than me, saw the last of MTV and VH1 . By the time I got there the funeral procession was over and the burial was about to end - the music industry, wearing shorts, was filming the open grave for a new reality TV show. I was the social experiment, the kid brother, the one who had to wear "Guns n' Roses" T-shirts and grow his hair long - during a time of shaved heads and garbage disco music. In the late nineties my father got offered a job, in Moscow, as a warehouse keeper. A few times a year he'd return with a trunk full of shovels, power drills, hammers, saws and other tools he had managed to steal from the warehouse. Everything spray painted red to fool the Russian customs into believing they were used. There had been a snowstorm the night before my dad arrived. An endless carpet of pure white. I was leaning over the sill, looking out from the kitchen window. My eyes were watery from the cold, but my excitement got the best of me. He parked his Lada and from the backseat he would lift out a large cardboard box, with the words "Dolby Surround" printed on its side. Little did I know that the content of that very box would affect my day to day existence to an almost unhealthy degree. During the following years our collection of pirated cassette tapes and compact discs grew with albums from Nirvana, Offspring, Dire Straits, Korn, Kino etc. Anything the shopkeeper in Moscow could copy on a CD-R and send to my sisters. Perhaps it was the sub-woofer that ignited my obsession to become a drummer, perhaps not, but by the time I turned ten I had begun taking lessons in the local music school. My teacher was a middle aged marching band percussionist with a serious boozing problem. The four years under his tyranny taught me more about the side effects of binge drinking rather than drums. "For Christ sake boy, you keep missing the f*ing beat train!" : something I'll remember for the rest of my life. I called it quits after failing to perform to a handful of Sunday afternoon pensioners, my mother and my teacher, in the city hall. Years later, on my way to university, I walked past a plate glass window of a small music shop. The sign said : "20% off all instruments!!!" in big bright letters. With the little I had saved, working night shifts as a receptionist in a hotel, and with the help of my parents, I scraped together enough to buy a blue XS plywood guitar. I composed my first song three days later. A two chord, short lived disaster. Last time I saw the guitar, hung by its neck, behind a plate glass window of a pawn shop - once more, discounted.

What have you been doing up until now? Do you have any other interests beyond music?

I've worked as a dishwasher, pastry chef, phone agent, engineer, as an extra in low budget German TV-movies. In other words, you name it - I've done it. Right now I'm sitting in a cafeteria a few blocks down the street from my house. I've been coming here for years to read and write. The bohemian life.... you know. These days the place is full of prams and crying toddlers. One of them is drooling on my pants sleeve, as we speak. I find this drone of life calming.

How did you find recording the album?

Although the process started off in a proper studio, under the guidance of a fantastic sound engineer, Martin Fiedler, I decided to continue by myself in the comfort of my bedroom - for the larger part. I suppose I felt intimidated by the expensive Neumann's and the professional approach, deeming myself unworthy. In the long run, the positives outweighed the negatives and I learned how to use the equipment I had bought or borrowed from my friends ( mainly from my good buddy and band member Jim Good), during the years I've lived in Berlin. I guess the hardest part was recording the drums. I used an old Russian Oktava that Jim brought back from Estonia a few summers ago - the only one that seemed to yield results. Jim is a subtle player , not a 4/4 rock drummer, and getting the sound I was looking for wasn't as easy as I expected. It all worked out thanks to Jim's infinite patience. Along the way Michael Brinkworth came to my aid with his beautiful 70's Fender (I'm sorry if it wasn't a Fender, Michael) and his ideas. Always a few hours late and out of breath - always passionate. He's the most prolific songwriter I know and his input was more than welcomed. Some of my guitar tracks and vocal takes were done in a rehearsal room that used to belong to Nina Hagen (something the locals seemed to take a lot of pride in). A damp basement full of old carpets and stale air. I spent a few weeks locked behind that massive metal door singing the same lines, over and over again. It was the following Autumn when I met Mauno Meesit from Grainy Records. He was in the midst of recording his own album and was in need of a classical guitar. Our mutual friend, who knew I had one, got him to come to one of my shows. We barely spoke after the gig but in a couple of days I received an E-mail and from there on we got to speaking. Turned out he liked the show and was enthusiastic about the album I had been recording. Soon enough he proposed me to join his label and I accepted without hesitation. I saw how serious he was about his own music and my mind was made up even before he asked. I'm not the easiest person to work with but Mauno's, Buddha like, calmness bridged our way. The result is on my table, boxes full of it. Who could have imagined...

What was the inspiration for the songs? I consider "I used to be clean" a concept album. A retroperspective glimpse into my childhood and how it was to grow up in the East during a time of despair and poverty as well as unity and love. I'm sure these themes will carry on into the future of my lyrics. Inspiration is an entity. Some sort of an astral being that enters and exits one's body whenever and wherever. During these times I'm nothing but a medium in a state of unconscious effortlessness. Many of my songs are not born out of inspiration. These are the ones I'm never fully satisfied with, the conscious ones, the ones I labor over. The beauty of these songs lies in their ability to grow and change as I do. I'm learning how to work without inspiration yet remain open to it - it's not that easy.

How do you go about writing?

My day kick-starts in the afternoon after a few cups of coffee. I try to write something in my diary every day. Sometimes it's a poem or a short story, but mostly it surmounts to nothing more but everyday uneventfulness. It takes me weeks, months, at times even years, to finish a song.

Lately I feel as If I'm in dire need of a break. Someplace quiet, outside this metropolitan cesspool. Someplace small where people go to sleep when the sun sets. Someplace where people talk about ordinary things, sit by a card table, eat canned sausages and drink clear spirits. Any place considered "culturally inactive" according to metropolitan standards.

Where can we hear it? www.bandcamp.com/viktorsjoy or www.grainyrecords.com

Where can we hear you play?

The album release show, in Berlin, will take place in Neue Nachbarn on the 5th of April. https://www.facebook.com/events/1879058472306213/1879252808953446/?notif_t=like&notif_id=1490094469947888

What are your plans for the future?

Organize a couple of shows in Estonia and focus on writing and recording new tracks.

#music #folk #indie #singer-songwriter #viktors joy #album review #interview #SCree #Berlin #estonia #I used to be clean

2 notes · View notes

raggedyrenaann · 7 years

Text

“Let your weird light shine bright so the other weirdos know where to find you.”

Hey! You found me! I knew you would!

I’m your friendly local woodworker & maker, prepper, Star Wars aficionado, tea granny, and nacho connoisseur…and that’s just getting started! Want to know more? Who is this mysterious woman behind all the wood shavings and paint splotches who has mastered the use of the sarcastic #hashtag? Carry on, oh curious minds!

This is a little Q&A post that I like to call:

It’s time for you to…

Meet Your Maker.

(and her dog).

Whew, that was terrifyingly epic and super up in your grill (see: ‘personal motto’, below).

Just sit back and relax…let’s get to know each other. Sort of like a first date. What’s that? I didn’t bring you flowers? Damn…ok, think of this as more of a job interview then. No, no! I said relax! you look so nervous! Why are you nervous? I’m the one being interviewed! Wait….now I’M nervous. Should I be nervous if I’m technically interviewing myself? Wow…that got awkward fast.

*ahem*…so…let’s shed some light on this mystery woman behind RRA Restorations!

Partying the night away, or chill at home?

I am a raging introvert, so definitely chill at home. Ok, maybe introverts don’t rage…so more like quietly and unobtrusively smoldering in the corner, but you get the idea. I love to enjoy the comforts of home, and when I do occasionally go out I have a code word for my husband so that he knows when I am ‘peopled out’ and need to return to the sanctuary of my home. Since I love being home so much I really try to turn my house into a comfortable little nest. I am SUPER tactile, so I have plush blankets, cushy slippers for my tired toes, and soft yoga pants for every occasion. Basically, if I touched it and liked touching it, I kept it. Although it is getting a little bit difficult to explain to my husband why I need THIS many scarves (they make me feel pretty, Ok?!).

What is one thing you can’t live without?

I know I’m supposed to be all mushy here and say my husband and my dog…but seriously, I just bought a milk frother and my London Fogs have been on point lately! We’re talking about a huge quality of life upgrade here!

You know it’s hard out here for a mutt.

My husband and my dog are obviously very important as well, I mean, look how adorable they are! (But did you know that you can order vanilla syrup from amazon and it will deliver right to your door? I will never have to leave my house for Sbux quality drinks again!).

Don’t judge, I’m only kidding. Mostly.

What is your personal motto?

“If you can’t overdo it, it’s not worth doing.” I figure, if you’re going to paint something in a really snazzy bright colour you may as well add glitter! I have trouble knowing when to stop adding…minimalism is a challenge. #thestruggleisreal

Another thing I try to do every day is to wake up and say “something amazing will happen today”…and the crazy part? Something amazing usually does happen! Of course, not everyday is easy and on rough days I always tell myself that “things always look better in the morning”. As they say, you may as well look on the brighter side of life…none of us get out alive anyhow!

So how did the ‘biz’ get started?

I took a personality test once that totally pegged me. It said that I would likely have many careers over the span of my life due to carrying wildly differing interests, and that I am happiest stepping out of the box and creating an independent life outside of restrictive corporate culture. In my young life I’ve already been a golf course turf care queen, barista, gold explorer, ‘black gold’ hunter, geologist, and lab analyst. That said, let’s flash back to several unhappy years ago when I was working for a company that I felt didn’t care about me, and I was getting totally burned out. I had been with this company for three years when the economy sputtered in Alberta, and in 2015 both my husband and myself were laid off within a week of each other (from two different companies). I knew then that I needed to do something different because I couldn’t spend another miserable moment working for someone else. We began to lay the groundwork for businesses that we could build and grow with.

I’ve always been creative and, much to my husband’s chagrin, I always have a project (or two) on the go. My interests have always been varied and far reaching. I like to think that I have a curious and wandering soul…I am more than just a personality test, after all! I crochet, write, paint, and am learning photograpy. I’ve taken clay working classes, water colour classes, acrylic painting classes, and I am a self-taught Popsicle structure artist (I attempted to build a miniature scale Titanic out of Popsicle sticks when I was 14…I say ‘attempted’ because it turned out it required more Popsicle sticks to finish it than I could afford with my allowance…#embarrassing). I even play a few instruments, and do a bit of scrap-booking & card-making. Eventually my projects began to overrun the house…I loved making things but was running out of room to put everything so I started to think about selling the things I make. I loved making, and didn’t want to have to stop just because my house was starting to look like a hoarder lived in it!

RRA Restorations was born as much out of a need for me to feel like a productive and working member of society as it was a deep need in my soul for me to feel that I was doing fulfilling work that allowed me to make my own decisions while being a little wild and free (which these days means working at midnight because apparently that is when my brain gets totally jazzed on creativity).

What is your favourite thing to make?

I love Alberta and everything that makes this province the unique and beautiful place that it is. I love to make wooden art signs with the shape of our gorgeous province of Alberta painted on them, and as an adorable added touch I paint little hearts on the location of people’s hometowns. I love custom wooden sign orders, there are some wonderfully crazy people out there and I never know what they are going to ask me to design! Right now I’m working on a sign in the shape of a pooping dog…don’t ask!

I also love up-cycling and reclaiming things that had a past life into something new and fun! The tagline for my company is that this is “where history and handmade meet”. I love that so many of my items had a story before we got our hands on them, and that with a little bit of love from us their story didn’t have to end. Living in the country (a.k.a the boonies) I am lucky enough to have access to a lot of weathered farm wood so I can make gorgeous barn board signs, or something like these cute little coasters cut from wooden fence posts salvaged from local farms.

I’m also currently restoring an antique treadle sewing table that I’m super excited about! It is so intricately handcrafted, and shows such pride of craftsmanship. The damn thing still works over 100 years later! They sure don’t make ’em like this anymore.

You know I can do a mean chicken dance.

So…this prepping thing…?

The zombies are coming and I’m not going to be the first to get eaten.

I kid! I live in an area that is prone to natural disasters and I have an obsession with making sure that I am prepared for anything. I’m currently saving up for a generator to deal with power outages (which frequently occurs living rural), and am working on prepping a garden plan in which the plants will complement each other and provide benefits to each other so that everything grows in a happy little symbiotic harmony. I’ve always been interested in being self sufficient and independent. Sort of like the Alaska Bush People, but with running water and television…I’m not a caveman.

I’m totally into personal safety and preparation for any emergency, and I love to help everyone around me get interested in it too! If you think that this is something that you might be interested in be sure to check out my blog post on how to create your own Family Emergency Plan and build your first Bug-out Bag. You will feel so much safer and prepared, and your family with thank you!

You seem totes wacky and I want to know more!

Aw shucks! Well, thanks! You can always keep up with my newest antics by signing up here for my blog updates, or you can check me out on my website here, or check out my latest projects on my Instagram here!

One last VERY important question…

Best video gaming platform?

Hands down Nintendo 64, and I will fight anyone who says otherwise…you know I would win because Legend of Zelda taught me mad chicken-slaying sword skills.

There you have it! A sneak peak into my world. Until next time…

Check us out on Etsy here!

It's time for you to...Meet Your Maker! I'm a weird and wacky maker in Southern Alberta and wanted to say hi! "Let your weird light shine bright so the other weirdos know where to find you." Hey! You found me!

0 notes