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greysthegreen · 2 years

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H hotel los angeles curio collection by hilton

#H HOTEL LOS ANGELES CURIO COLLECTION BY HILTON PROFESSIONAL#

Disinfectant is used to clean the property commonly-touched surfaces are cleaned with disinfectant between stays bed sheets and towels are laundered at a temperature of at least 60☌/140☏. This property advises that enhanced cleaning and guest safety measures are currently in place. This property accepts Visa, Mastercard, American Express, Discover, Diners Club, debit cards, and cash. The provision of housing is linked to their trade, business, or profession.

#H HOTEL LOS ANGELES CURIO COLLECTION BY HILTON PROFESSIONAL#

This property is managed by a professional host. Special requests can't be guaranteed and may incur additional charges. Special requests are subject to availability at the time of check-in. In-room climate control (air conditioning)Ĭharges for extra guests may apply and vary according to property policy.Ī credit card for incidental charges and government-issued photo identification may be required upon check-in. Additionally, rooms include coffee/tea makers and irons/ironing boards. Business-friendly amenities include desks, desk chairs, and phones. This Los Angeles hotel provides complimentary wired and wireless Internet access. Bathrooms include shower/tub combinations, designer toiletries, complimentary toiletries, and hair dryers. 55-inch LCD televisions come with premium cable channels. H Hotel Los Angeles, Curio Collection by Hilton offers 168 accommodations with MP3 docking stations and laptop-compatible safes. Information missing or incorrect? Tell us! A roundtrip airport shuttle is complimentary (available 24 hours). Cooked-to-order breakfasts are available daily from 6 AM to 10 AM for a fee.įeatured amenities include a 24-hour business center, dry cleaning/laundry services, and a 24-hour front desk. Wrap up your day with a drink at the bar/lounge. Satisfy your appetite for dinner at Waypoint Kitchen, a restaurant which specializes in American cuisine, or stay in and take advantage of the room service (during limited hours). Additional amenities at this hotel include complimentary wireless Internet access and a television in a common area. Conveniences include phones, as well as laptop-compatible safes and desks.Įnjoy recreation amenities such as a 24-hour fitness center or take in the view from a rooftop terrace. Private bathrooms with shower/tub combinations feature designer toiletries and hair dryers. Complimentary wired and wireless Internet access keeps you connected, and cable programming provides entertainment. Make yourself at home in one of the 168 guestrooms featuring MP3 docking stations and LCD televisions. This 4-star hotel is 3.8 mi (6.2 km) from SoFi Stadium and 6 mi (9.7 km) from Venice Beach. Located in Los Angeles, H Hotel Los Angeles, Curio Collection by Hilton is a 5-minute drive from Loyola Marymount University and 8 minutes from Manhattan Beach Pier.

#H hotel los angeles curio collection by hilton

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damiansgoodgirll · 27 days

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So girl, I’ve seen Beyonce is your favourite singer and she’s my favourite singer so could you please write Reader where she is a huge fan and she’s part of the judgment day and more like Rhea and Damian, she reacts to the album with them and they can’t understand like the hype or something like that because they are not into that genre and like reader has some crazy reaction.

Please it would be so fun! Thank you so my queen 🐝❤️

please, i always imagined what would their reactions be to beyonce or singers they don’t listen to lol, i’m so happy to make this request!

notes : i love rock music and metal too! i just needed to make reader a beyhive and make her hating metal music (please forgive me), also listen to this masterpiece thank you!

damian priest x reader x rhea ripley (PLATONIC)

cowboys

you always loved sharing car rides and hotel rooms with your teammates, especially damian and rhea. they were the first people to ask you to join them in the judgment day, seeing your potential in nxt and being barely twenty one, they wanted to give you a bigger opportunity and so they took you under their protective wing.

finn and dom were nice too, they helped you growing in your skills in the past year and they all took a liking in you but you had a bigger connection with rhea and damian.

they always pushed you, making you reach goals you thought were impossible and you couldn’t thank them enough.

there was one thing you didn’t like about them.

their favourite type of music.

rock. metal. punk. whatever they were listening to. you just couldn’t handle it. there was just one rock song you liked and it was beyoncé’s “don’t hurt yourself” rock song.

so long car rides with them were always a torture. you tried to make conversation most of the time but when it was a 7 hour ride, eventually you would finish topics and so you had to listen to them singing or more - screaming - to their songs.

they usually let you choose one or two songs, but that was it. and everytime you would choose rihanna or beyonce they would take over it.

finn once told you that metal heads only cared about their favourite music. the rest was trash for them. you didn’t believe him at first, thinking he was only overreacting but in this year you realised how right he was.

it’s like they were allergic to beyonce.

but tonight, oh, tonight it was going to be your night.

you were currently in the same hotel room as they were as rhea wanted to share a room with you all. you knew what was coming at midnight and so you asked multiple times to have a separate room from them, you didn’t give them explanations but rhea wasn’t having it.

so, a huge bedroom with two kings sized bed - one for damian and the other one for rhea and you - and a huge tv with all the apps you needed, spotify included was what you got.

the shock came when the track list dropped a day prior, letting you know that there were going to be 27 songs.

they can barely handle one song, how were they going to react to 27 songs?

you still didn’t ask them, as whatever band rhea was playing on spotify - probably motionless in white - were blasting in the room and you were currently fidgeting with your fingers.

the best guess was probably that they would leave you alone for two hours or so. maybe going at the gym or somewhere else. the worst guess was that they probably would laugh at you and telling you no. that would be the worst because you had been waiting for this album since the announcement day and you were already excited at the thought of a new beyonce album.

fifteen minutes to the album drop and you were already imagining yourself leaving the room to go somewhere else to listen to the album.

“guys!” you called for their attention. you were sitting on the bed next to rhea and damian, who were playing some cards game.

“you okay?” rhea asked and you nodded.

“i have something to ask you…”

“go on” rhea’s curios faced looked at you. rhea always liked the way you got shy around them, even if you had been with them for the past year. she kinda knew what you were going to ask, as you had been fangirling about the album with bianca belair for the past two weeks but still, she wanted to hear you asking them. deep down she knew she couldn’t say no to you.

damian, on the other hand, had no idea and he probably was going to have a heart attack at your request.

“so…i have a request…and for once i would like - uhm…i would like that you would consider my feelings” you struggled at first making rhea slightly chuckle.

“did we do something?” damian’s worried expression looked at you.

“no no no, you didn’t do anything to me…uhm…it came out wrong” you said “so, uhm…i don’t know if you know, probably not, but beyoncé’s new album drops in like ten minutes now and - uhm…since we’ve been listening to metal music all day long and i haven’t complained once - i would like to ask you if you could let me listen the album here? like, i know it’s not your type of music but i would really love to listen it here and not going like in the gym or somewhere else…since we have spotify and stuff…” you asked.

rhea was smirking and damian was very much confused.

“that’s it?” rhea asked and you nodded.

“why were you so scared to ask us that?” damian asked you this time.

“i wasn’t scared…”

“yes you were” he pointed out. he kinda felt bad that you had to ask them such a simple thing. yes, he knew beyonce wasn’t his music but he couldn’t see why it was a thing to ask.

“so?” rhea asked “you kinda looked scared”

“it’s not that. it’s just i know it’s not your type of music and you always act dramatic when finn or i ask if we can listen to something else so i thought it was going to be a problem for you”

“we always let you put your songs on” damian said.

“yes, and then you and rhea talk over it”

“oh” he said “i didn’t mean to do that i promise”

“okay…” you smiled “so you really are going to listen beyonce with me?”

“yeah, i mean, i don’t think 13 or 14 songs could hurt us” rhea joked and damian laughed too.

“actually…it’s 27 songs”

“what!?” the both screamed, making you chuckle.

“you still have five minutes to back up because the album is about to drop” you said as you were searching beyonce on spotify.

you observed the way rhea and damian looked at each others. definitely not ready for the outcome. but rhea couldn’t help but notice how excited you were about the album, and how you were happy with it. just a small thing that made you the happiest she ever saw you.

“here we go!” you almost screamed jumping back on the bed, sat between rhea and damian as you were about to press play when you saw the album popping up on her spotify home “are you ready?”

“wait…is it a country album?” damian asked and you nodded.

“you should have gave us a little more of infos about what kind of death we have to die…” rhea added a little dramatic, making you laugh.

“oh shut up! it’s gonna be great!” you said pressing play.

you were in tears after the first minute of ameriican requiem and now damian and rhea thought you were the dramatic one.

it got worse when beyoncé’s cover of jolene started as you always loved that song growing up.

“so she stealing songs?” damian murmured, earning a side look from rhea and punch in his stomach from you “okay i apologise”

the death of you was when daughter started, you knew beyonce was capable of anything but opera? the italian part? you were a crying mess, and even though neither of them were understanding the hype around beyonce, they couldn’t deny she was a great artist.

they were a little shocked when they saw you crying over her songs and they didn’t know what to do. if they should console you or letting you cry in peace.

“oh she’s doing it again!” you screamed when spaghetti started.

“doing what?” rhea whispered never getting a reply back.

you were crying and then you were not.

they felt like they were babysitting a baby.

damian was trying to stay awake just for you and rhea was kinda amused by the reactions you were having to her songs.

ya ya made you start jumping on the bed, tyrant made you feel like you were a porn star and ii hand ii heaven made you cry all over again.

one hour and a half later the album was over and you couldn’t believe the masterpiece beyonce just dropped.

“so?” you asked them, noticing their confused looks “did you like it?”

they knew they couldn’t say no because you looked too happy and they didn’t want to ruin your mood but they couldn’t say yes because - country? - definitely not their genre.

“i gave up after the jolene cover” damian joked, earning another side look from rhea “joking joking…it was interesting”

“rhea?” you turned to her and now she was speechless.

“uhm…yeah, it was an experience” she smiled at you, making you smile too.

you were happy with their reactions so you went all to bed.

two days later

another car ride. another show. another hotel room to be shared with damian and rhea.

you hit the shower first, tired of the trip you just had, you wanted to relax a bit before going to bed.

“your body laid out on these filthy floors

your bloodstains on my custom coutures

bathroom attendant let me right in

she was a big fan”

came from the bedroom. except it wasn’t spotify.

“they keep saying that i ain’t nothing like my father

but i’m the furthest thing from choir boys and altars

if you cross me i’m just like my father

i am colder than titanic water”

you heard damian singing.

he was singing beyonce. the opera song. they really thought you couldn’t hear them so they kept singing or more like, whispering, but you would catch a someone singing a beyonce song even in the loudest crowd.

rhea joining him too was something else.

you really couldn’t believe that but you pretended nothing happened because you knew you would have ruined their egos.

damian and rhea singing beyonce?

no one would believe that.

but you did.

and that was enough for you.

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beewolfwrites · 1 year

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Hear me out… you know that meme of like the dad and the dog that he didn’t want who always end up being super close.. can we get something similar to that with Chishiya and y/n LMAO

btw I love your writing and I’m glad you’re back ♡

Haha, I guess this is the closest way I could replicate it? Enjoy <3

(Chishiya x gn reader)

---------------------------------------------------

‘Please.’

‘No.’

‘Please, Chishiya! There’s plenty of spare hotel rooms.’ This woman, Kuina, was bouncing on her heels now.

You felt a little awkward being argued over like this, but you also didn’t want to intervene. The relationship between Kuina and this man, Chishiya, wasn’t clear. Whilst you had been forced to collaborate with Kuina in your last game - swinging from chain ropes to avoid the swimming pool of simmering acid below - this was the first game where you had worked with this ‘Chishiya’ person. He wasn’t particularly tall, and his dyed blonde hair was striking against his sly, catlike features. Why Kuina had to ask his permission to take you with them, you couldn’t tell. From the sounds of it, this ‘hideout’ of theirs had a leader who ultimately decided on who stayed or went.

The game itself had been troublesome; a twisted spin on snakes and ladders. The venue was an old brick building with scaffolding covering the entire exterior. The rules seemed simple, too; climb up to the roof to clear the game. What the rules hadn't explained was the exposed electrical wires and venomous snakes.

You had been climbing just below the other two when Chishiya’s foot slipped on the wet steel. It went against every one of your survival instincts, yet your body moved on its own, freeing one hand to grasp Chishiya, catching him whilst clinging onto the scaffolding with all your strength. His expression was still vivid in your memory, as he clutched your hand. Rather than surprise at what had happened, or relief. He looked puzzled, as if he couldn’t work out why you’d done it.

Truth be told, you weren’t too sure why yourself.

‘Strength alone isn’t enough,’ you could hear him murmur.

Kuina huffed and folded her arms. ‘Speak for yourself. You would have died back there, you know.’

‘And?’

You grimaced, trying to hide your face in your sleeve. If your presence was this much of an issue, maybe it would be better if you simply went your own way.

‘Um… hey,’ you mumbled, causing the pair to suddenly look up. ‘It’s obviously a problem, so I’ll just leave. Good luck on your next game.’

You began to walk away into the cool evening. The breeze was refreshing after such a physically exhausting game. Their hideout did sound like a great opportunity, but you knew when you weren’t wanted. Behind you, you could hear the two bickering, their voices growing more and more distant with every step you took.

‘See! Look what you’ve done now.’

‘I don’t see why you care so much, Kuina.’

‘Chishiya!’

The arguing stopped, but you didn’t bother looking back to find out why. Maybe things were supposed to be like this. You’d arrived in this twisted world alone, so maybe you were supposed to go back alone too. You were thinking carefully about where you should set up camp for the night, when a smooth voice called out from behind.

‘You.’

Slowing, you turned around to see this man, Chishiya, strolling towards you. His hood was drawn over his head, hands in his pockets, and his relaxed demeanour suggested that he had no intention of harm. Yet his eyes were analytical, and you could feel him assessing every move you made. Behind him, Kuina was slowly making her way over.

‘What cards do you have?’ Chishiya asked.

Your hand instinctively went to your pocket where you kept your stash. ‘Seven of Spades,’ you said, trying to remember all the games you had cleared. ‘Two of Hearts, Eight of Clubs, Nine of Spades, Ace of Diamonds—’

‘Fine.’

You hadn’t expected Chishiya to give in all of a sudden. Was it really just down to your cards? Looking at him now, his eyes were glittering with curiosity as he took in your appearance.

‘That’s it?’ You asked, unsure of what was truly happening here. ‘That’s all you wanted to know?’

‘You’ve got a good range of cards,’ he said. ‘And you’re a skilled Spades player. You could be useful.’

Kuina’s face cracked into a grin. She pressed her palms together as if her prayers had been granted. ‘Really! Does that mean we can keep them?’

Chishiya pulled out a pair of headphones and slid them into his ears. ‘Whatever,’ he muttered.

The two began to walk back in the direction they had come. At first, you weren’t sure if this was truly happening. Had you really found allies you could rely on? Allies who had food and shelter? Kuina and Chishiya were several metres ahead before the latter turned around, his gaze expectant.

‘Are you coming or not?’

You nodded, unable to hold back a smile as you took your place by their side.

#alice in borderland #aib #chishiya #chishiya x reader #imawa no kuni no arisu

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peterrefur · 3 months

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As long as her hands are so warm ⅏ Wilbur Soot x GN!Reader

Summary: William Gold, a performer, seeks a break from fame and proposes a trip with his partner, Reader, to take a break from life and slow down for a bit. Notes: Hey Mate!!! I’m Peter and I say right away that English is not my first language. I’m curious to hear your opinion about this work in the comments! Enjoy!

𝒜s LoveJoy and I extinguished the candles marking our 100th concert celebration, a wave of relief washed over me. The weight of the relentless schedule lifted, granting me the rare opportunity to relax and simply be; free from the ceaseless churn of thoughts and obligations.

I couldn't help but marvel at artists who thrive in the whirlwind of weekly gigs, or even more frequent performances! It's crazy. Especially for someone like me—an introvert who grapples with panic during crowded spaces.

𝒮o, now lying in the cocoon of our hotel bed, I steal a moment to gaze at my beloved, my anchor amidst the chaos of life on the road. They nestle closer, their rhythmic breaths stirring gentle wisps of air against my unshaven chest. With tender fingers, I weave through their hair, finding solace in the simple intimacy of our connection, knowing they'll stand by me through every storm, even when words fail to express my love.

Continuing to stroke their hair, but as I reach for distraction, checking my bank account on my phone, a peculiar sensation grips my stomach and tightens around my neck—a prelude to either nausea or panic.

I try to calm my racing breath and look towards the window in the hotel room.

𝒯he notion of living in America flits through my mind, a tantalizing prospect amid the newfound respite from the relentless demands of fame and performance.

Maybe?

Perhaps now that I'll have a break from everything... From social media, from singing, from fans, from spotlight.

Am I able to take a break? Do I even know what that means?

After all, isn't the pursuit of self-discovery worth the risk of venturing into the unknown?

* * *

“𝒮o, if I understand you correctly, you want to spend New Year's Eve in New York?" Reader inquires, their voice tinged with curiosity as they zip up the suitcase resting on the bed.

I scratch the back of my neck and lean against the bathroom door, brushing my teeth. "Not really, I want to go back to England with you for two days, maybe three. Repack. Then, we could return to New York and stay there for a while. Until March, perhaps even April?" I respond tentatively, uncertain of how my suggestion will be received.

Knowing Reader's preference for structured plans and aversion to spontaneous ‘getaways’, I brace myself for their response. “Of course, I'll organise it; I've already found a small flat, not even a studio. One bedroom connected to the kitchen and living room, but enough for us. Plus, there's a sofa if we need extra sleeping space. And don't worry, we have enough savings for it, we have enough savings for that." I say and resume brushing my teeth while listening to the silence of the hotel room.

𝒜s the moments tick by, the absence of Reader's response weighs heavily on me. Did I say something wrong? Should I have approached the topic differently? Doubt creeps in, mingling with the lingering fear of disrupting Reader's plans and inadvertently coming across as selfish.

𝒫erhaps, I muse silently, I should take matters into my own hands. Maybe Reader already has plans in mind, and my impromptu proposal is throwing a wrench into their carefully crafted itinerary. Am I being unreasonable? Self-cantered, even? Self-obsessed bitch?

I spit out the toothpaste and look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

A sudden realization dawns upon me. Perhaps Reader is looking for a change, just like I am. Maybe my impromptu proposal has struck a chord within them. With newfound determination, I decide to approach Reader and express my thoughts openly. As I approach them, their eyes meet mine, mirroring the flicker of curiosity that dances within me.

𝒲ithout hesitation, I blurt out my idea, stumbling over my words in a rush of enthusiasm.

"I'm tired ... mentally. I know how much is waiting for me..." I manage a faint smile, the weight of anticipation and expectation pressing down on me. "as well as for you in the new year. 2024 promises to be very good for me. For you. For us. And I not only want a break from Wilbur Soot, but I want William Gold, to be with you now. Even if you were to force me out of bed like you used to. All I want is to rest. And I will fully understand if you say no. Because at the end of the day, I'm the one dragging you on tour and changing your plans for months." As the words spill from my lips, I can't help but acknowledge the weight of my confession. I admit, perhaps for the first time, that I haven't always prioritized their well-being amidst the whirlwind of my own ambitions and aspirations.

𝒯heir eyes fix on me, penetrating and perceptive, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable. I instinctively avert my gaze, unable to withstand the intensity of their scrutiny. In that moment, I feel naked, stripped bare of pretense and facade.

Yet, even in my vulnerability, I find solace in the knowledge that I've spoken my truth, laying bare my desires and vulnerabilities before them.

"Is this what you need? No. Wait," Reader pauses, their brows furrowing in contemplation as they gaze into my eyes. Their smaller hands gently cup my cheeks, grounding me with their touch. "Do you want me to be there for you while you relax? I don't want to be a problem or a distraction," they inquire, their voice carrying a depth of emotion that eludes my grasp.

"You, a problem?" I shake my head, disbelief tinging my words. "I could be the problem. All you are is a sun in my day, even when the day is full of rain. I want you by my side," I declare, the sincerity of my words reverberating in the air between us. Yet, even as I speak, a nagging doubt creeps in, whispering the fear of sounding manipulative or imposing my desires onto them.

𝒞an I truly allow myself to lean on them, to relinquish control and accept their support without reservation? And can they, in turn, offer their presence without feeling burdened or constrained? As I search their eyes for answers, I find solace in the warmth of their touch and the tenderness of their gaze.

I realise that perhaps, just perhaps, I have found the person I have been looking for so, so long.

"I will be there for you," their words, simple yet profound, stir something deep within me. Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes, an inexplicable surge of emotion welling up within my chest. Without hesitation, I envelop them in a tight embrace, seeking solace in the warmth of their embrace and the sanctuary of their presence.

As I bury my face where their neck meets their shoulder, a sense of peace washes over me, chasing away the shadows of doubt and uncertainty that have plagued me for so long. In their arms, I find refuge from the storms of life, a haven of acceptance and understanding that I've long yearned for.

"Thank you."

* * *

𝒮pending days together with them feels like a waking dream, each moment steeped in a timeless embrace that defies the constraints of the world around us. We walk hand in hand, weaving through the bustling streets, our laughter mingling with the rhythm of life pulsating around us.

A trip to Whole Foods becomes an adventure in culinary exploration, as we meander through aisles adorned with vibrant produce and artisanal delights. With each item we select, we exchange knowing glances and playful banter, our shared excitement palpable in the air.

Exchanging knit-caps becomes a symbol of our bond, a tangible reminder of the warmth and comfort we find in each other's presence. Exchanging knit-caps becomes a symbol of our bond, a tangible reminder of the warmth and comfort we find in each other's presence. They specifically learn how to knit to make me a cap.

Every US monument we encounter becomes a portal to the past, as we recount its anachronistic history with fervent enthusiasm. With each story we share, we delve deeper into the rich tapestry of American heritage, finding connection and meaning in the echoes of the past.

Spending time eating popcorn while watching movies becomes a cherished ritual, a sanctuary of relaxation and intimacy amidst the chaos of the world outside. As we snuggle close on the couch, the glow of the screen illuminating our faces, we lose ourselves in the magic of cinema.

Burning one joint for two, as we pass the makeshift torch between us, sharing in the euphoria of a shared high. With each inhale, we surrender to the intoxicating embrace of the moment, our bodies melting into the blissful haze of mutual contentment.

Sex becomes an act of pure devotion, a celebration of our connection and mutual desire to make each other feel truly alive. With each touch, each caress, we lose ourselves in the ecstasy of the moment, our bodies becoming vessels of passion and pleasure.

In those fleeting moments, as we bask in the warmth of each other's presence, our hearts overflow with gratitude for the gift of love and companionship that we share. Whether embarking on a little trip to visit mutual friends or eagerly awaiting their arrival at our doorstep, every moment spent in the company of loved ones becomes an opportunity for joy and connection.

𝒪ur journey to Niagara Falls with Leandra, Joe, his partner, and Ash. As we stand in awe of nature's majestic spectacle, the roar of the cascading waterfalls echoing in our ears, we find solace in the shared experience and the laughter that bubbles forth from our lips.

Yet, amidst the beauty of the natural world and the warmth of friendship, it is the presence of Reader that truly fills me with a sense of fulfilment. With each glance exchanged and each tender moment shared, I feel myself growing more and more ready for a future with them by my side.

𝐼n their eyes, I see the promise of endless possibilities and the unwavering support of a true partner.

#wilbur soot x Olga #wilbur soot x you #mcyt wilbur #mcyt x Olga #mcyt x you #wilbur mcyt #wilbur soot fic #wilbur soot #wilbur x you #wilbur post #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x y/n #mcyt x reader #Mammalian Sighing Reflex

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kemetic-dreams · 4 months

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Roots under Beale: The Significance of Beale Street to Memphis Hoodoo History

In the late 1800s, Robert Church, the first African-American millionaire in the South took great interest in Beale Street. After purchasing land on Beale, Church built Church Park and Auditorium exclusively for black Memphians. He also created a recreational center and an upscale hotel. Beale Street was very important to African American life in Memphis as Church wanted to create a safe haven for black Memphians where African American food, music and entertainment could be celebrated.

A community of healers, conjurers and rootworkers began to develop on Beale. Memphians knew that you could visit the right store or juke joint and find someone with the ‘gift’ to provide magical and spiritual help. Beale Street musicians like W.C. Handy began to speak of the hoodoo culture through the lyrics of their songs. Blues singer Lillie Mae Glover known as ‘Ma Rainey II’ became popular on Beale Street as not only a performer but also a conjurer. She would perform rituals and various spiritual workings for other performers on Beale, as well as random customers who knew to seek her out. One of her special abilities was the ability to make mojo hands for blues musicians. While many hands were traditionally made using roots, lodestone and a red flannel bag, Lillie Mae made hers using common ingredients like sugar, flour and a heap of coal.

It became evident that hoodoo was being practiced in downtown Memphis much to the dislike of the white community. Hoodoo and any African based religious practices were compared to savage paganism that threatened the wives and children of the white community of Memphis. Local police were put on alert regarding the threat of hoodoo and ‘voodooism’ as it was commonly referred to.

The Memphis Press-Scimitar reported:

‘The Voodoo business still thrives on Beale Street. Police, looking for a witch

doctor yesterday confiscated a half a sack full of “Stay Away Powder,”

“Easy Life Powder” and “Spanish Luck Drops” being sold to negroes at

25 cents a set. The “Stay Away” powder, supposed to jinx a love rival,

proved to be nothing stronger than flour. “Easy Life” powder appeared to

be a fine grade of ground clay. “Spanish Luck Drops” were more potent.

They were a cheap but stout perfume. All in all, police figured the 25-cent

collection cost the producers not more than a couple of cents.’

Raids on rootworkers and conjurers were quite common in the city. There is record of a number of arrests where hoodoo devotees were arrested and artifacts such as mojo bags and amulets were confiscated and in some cases destroyed in the presence of practitioners. Hoodoo was not only feared but represented empowerment for the black community, something that the times simply would not allow.

The development of a hoodoo community on Beale Street gained the notoriety of the title ‘The Black Magic District’ as many Memphians knew that one could obtain a cleansing, a black cat bone or guidance from the ancestors by visiting the right individual on Beale. In the 1940s gold miners would visit Beale Street looking for conjurers to help them spiritually locate treasure along the Mississippi River. The rising number of Memphians using Beale Street’s healers as a form of healthcare caused some Memphis physicians to become critical and voice offense against the community’s rootworkers. However as writer Keith Wailoo in has noted “Those who invoked spirits to relieve one’s rheumatism or to subdue one’s enemies would not be driven easily from the Bluff city.” Hoodoo was here to stay.

In 1876, Jewish immigrant Abraham Schwab opened one of Memphis’s most iconic businesses on Beale Street. A. Schwab began as a dry goods store offering everything from cloth overalls to blues records. Years later the store began to carry a number of hoodoo related curios. In fact at one point the store was literally bringing in shipments of over one hundred and twenty tons of hoodoo related candles. The hoodoo community in Memphis would purchase oils, candles, incense and roots from the oldest store on Beale. One of my earliest exposures to hoodoo curios came when as a child I was taken into Schwab by my parents. I remember the scent of incense and the colorful collection of candles and curios. It was a wonderland to the senses.

During the writing of A Secret History of Memphis Hoodoo: Rootworkers, Conjurers and Spirituals, I was given the opportunity to visit the store’s archives and see some of the remnants of hoodoo curios and artifacts. A number of old curios from Memphis based companies like ‘LaClyde Lucky Products’ and ‘Lucky Heart Cosmetics’ were preserved in pristine condition saved for their historical preservation. Boxes of dried rattlesnake root, John the Conqueror and assorted herbs could still be found. A member of the Schwab family shared stories of hoodoo practitioners throughout the years and the many testimonies and stories of customers from the conjure community.

These are but a few of the numerous stories about rootworkers and conjurers on Beale Street that were instrumental in the history of hoodoo in Memphis. The history of hoodoo in Memphis is a story of cultural survival that needs to be told.

#memphis #beale street #rootworker #african #kemetic dreams #africans #brownskin #afrakan #afrakans #brown skin #african culture #afrakan spirituality

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denimbex1986 · 9 months

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'If you’ve ever read an interview with the Irish actor Cillian Murphy, you might think him shy, irritable, or even neurotic. Journalists love to write about how closed-off he is, that if you ask him anything too personal he’ll shut down and give one-line answers. This makes their job very hard, they say. But what those interviews don’t tell you, is that if you let Murphy talk about a subject that he actually wants to talk about – such as his epic new film about the father of the atomic bomb J. Robert Oppenheimer – he’ll go on for ages. And he’ll be very open and interesting while he’s doing it. He might even make a joke.

He does this when NME meets him at a posh hotel in Soho. We’ve just walked into the room. Murphy is sat down, wearing a black v-neck jumper over a white t-shirt, black trousers and a pair of very pointy Chelsea boots. He seems relaxed, and greets us with a cheery “hello!”. Then he recognises the thick paperback tucked under our arm as a copy of American Prometheus, the Pulitzer Prize-winning biography from which Oppenheimer is adapted. We’d intended to read a quote from the book later but Murphy cuts in on our explanation. “No, you brought it in here to be pretentious,” he grins. “Would you like me to sign it for you?”

There are people who would sell their grandmas for a mere glimpse of Murphy, let alone an autograph. He’s been dogged by screaming fans since the early days of his career – when he broke out as often-shirtless apocalypse survivor Jim in Danny Boyle’s 2002 horror hit 28 Days Later. Brummie gangster series Peaky Blinders made him a global star, but his most famous film roles are notable because they’ve often come from collaborations with the same director. Christopher Nolan’s sci-fi blockbuster Inception, war thriller Dunkirk and his Batman trilogy all featured Murphy as the supporting curio – a side character that pops up every so often to steal your attention from the main protagonist. But in Oppenheimer, the duo’s latest creative partnership, he finally is the main character.

And he’s a good one too. Oppenheimer was an American scientist who made vital discoveries in quantum physics during the 1920s and ‘30s, going on to oversee the creation of the atomic bomb for the US Government – two of which were dropped on Japanese cities Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945, killing an estimated 220,000 people. Oppenheimer spent the rest of his life campaigning for disarmament, appalled at the weapon (his preferred term was “gadget”) he had helped to give the world. He also drank heavily and had a reputation as a womaniser, despite being quiet and sometimes socially awkward. Murphy calls him “contradictory” and “complex”, which is like saying Suella Braverman doesn’t like immigrants. “I do think that he believed it would be the weapon to end all wars,” Murphy continues, attempting to explain how a left-leaning humanitarian could spend two years perfecting the ultimate killing machine. “He thought that [having the bomb] would motivate countries to form a sort of nuclear world governance.” Murphy pauses. “He was naive.”

Was that naivety a choice though? Oppenheimer had an explosive ego, once attempting to poison a university professor who chastised him when he was a student. Could his desire to achieve such as historic breakthrough have led him to ignore his own better judgement?

“That’s an interesting take,” says Murphy. He runs his hands through his hair, which is styled into wavy curtains. He does this a lot when thinking a question over. “Chris used this amazing phrase. We were talking about Oppenheimer’s arc and he said, ‘You know, he’s dancing between the raindrops morally.’ That unlocked something in my mind when I was preparing.”

To play the role of Oppenheimer, Murphy went very deep. He read the Bhagavad Gita – a 700-page Hindu religious text that the physicist famously quoted from (“Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.”) Then he started “skipping meals” in an effort to slim down to Oppenheimer’s rail-thin frame. During the actual shoot, Murphy smoked so many fake cigarettes that he worried it harmed his health. “They can’t be good for you,” he told The Guardian. Oppenheimer himself died of throat cancer in 1967.

On top of the physical strain, Murphy delved into some pretty dark emotional places. He had six months to research before filming began in February 2022, and during the 67-day production he often worked 18-hour days. War, genocide and the nuclear holocaust are unpleasant to think about at the best of times, never mind your every waking moment. It must have been brutal.

“You always have to take a holiday after a job,” he concedes, as though being a Hollywood actor is no different from plumbing toilets. “It’s not because… as some journalists like to think, you’re a method actor or whatever. It’s because you give so much time to the job and then suddenly you stop. You have all this displaced energy, you know, so you kind of don’t know what to do with yourself… But I’m a very easygoing sort of person. It doesn’t weigh me down.”

We suspect Murphy isn’t being entirely truthful here. Such is the intensity of his performance – all simmering discontent and wide-eyed panic attacks – that it’s difficult to believe he just shook the weight of global armageddon off each night before climbing into bed. Emily Blunt, who plays Oppenheimer’s wife Kitty in the film, has said Murphy regularly skipped cast dinners because of the “monumental” pressure he felt. “Of course he didn’t want to [eat] with us,” she told People magazine. Matt Damon, brilliant as mustachioed military boss General Groves, agreed: “His brain was just too full.” When we push Murphy on the subject, he reveals a little more. “I didn’t go out much. I didn’t socialise much, mainly because of the amount of work I had to do… I became so immersed in the role.”

To make the experience yet more profound, cameras rolled only “a couple of days” before Russia invaded Ukraine. The West united to impose stringent economic sanctions on Vladimir Putin and his people. The value of the Ruble plummeted, Russian billionaires were booted out of London and Moscow became a cultural ghost town with the likes of Green Day and Iron Maiden cancelling gigs. Putin’s response? To start lining up tactical nukes along his borders. Armageddon seemed closer than at any moment since the Cold War. Murphy (and his castmates) felt the heat. “It was everywhere, and we were fully aware of that,” he says. “The threat [of nuclear war] has escalated and receded over the years since 1945… and now it’s back. It’s always there, this Sword Of Damocles that is hanging over us.”

Murphy, 47, knows what it’s like to exist against the backdrop of conflict. He grew up during the Troubles in late 1970s and ‘80s Cork, Ireland, where reports of sectarian violence in the north often dominated the news. His mum was a French teacher and his dad worked for the civil service. As a teenager, he was obsessed with music. He read NME and loved Frank Zappa and The Beatles. To illustrate his fandom, he tells us about a trip he took to Liverpool, later in life, to see the legendary Cavern Club, where the mop tops first cut their teeth on stage. “I walked down to [the street where the Cavern Club is supposed to be],” he says, “and it wasn’t there. It was somewhere over there!” He gesticulates with his hands. “It’s not the real Cavern. It’s just a mock-up!”

Inspired by John, Paul, George and Ringo, Murphy and his brother formed a band: The Sons of Mr Green Genes, named after a Zappa tune from the avant garde groover’s 1969 album ‘Hot Rats’. The songs were similarly experimental, filled with “wacky lyrics and endless guitar solos”. Eventually, an indie label based in London, Acid Jazz, put a five-album deal on the table. He and his brother turned it down, citing reasons of artistic independence, but for a while rock and roll appeared more inviting than the movies.

Murphy is often disparaging about his songs to journalists, but they must have been doing something right. He’s also self-deprecating when we bring up the underrated 2002 short film Watchmen, which he co-wrote with BAFTA-winner Paloma Baeza – his only attempt at a screenplay. “I just never thought that I was good enough really,” he says. “It’s why I haven’t, you know, pursued the music either… I like to do one thing quite well.” He adds that it’s unlikely this will change in the future.

Murphy will be far too busy to write songs or screenplays for a while anyway. The first reviews for Oppenheimer are out, and some critics have him earmarked for an Oscar. He’ll charm his way through awards season no doubt, just as he does at the Paris premiere the night before our interview. Done up in a black suit with mustard shirt and matching oversized tie, he looks a bit like the handsome English teacher your best mate had a crush on. Walking the red carpet, he is happy to answer questions, speaking at length about Nolan’s genius and the “amazing” reaction to Oppenheimer so far. You can tell he’s enjoying himself.

Murphy’s not on duty tonight though, with London’s premiere scheduled for the day after our chat. Then he’ll be waiting to get on with his next gig, the dark indie drama Small Things Like These, adapted from Claire Keegan’s bestselling 2021 title, in which he’ll take the lead role. Following his breakthrough blockbuster with a low-key Irish drama is typically understated of Murphy, so not unexpected. More box office projects loom on the horizon – a standalone Peaky Blinders movie and the long-awaited horror threequel 28 Months Later – but he says he has “no new information” on either.

It’s difficult to say what Oppenheimer means for Murphy. He is a household name in the UK and Ireland, but less so in the States, where some still see him as a ‘TV actor’. In a recent interview to promote the film, Robert Downey Jr. talked of Murphy’s life “changing” after Oppenheimer, as if he’s a fresh actor on the scene. In a sense, Downey Jr. is right. This is Murphy’s first lead role in a sure-fire smash. And the parts he gets offered now may be a bit starrier. But don’t expect to see him in spandex on a Marvel soundstage anytime soon.

“I like unknowable, ambiguous, kind of enigmatic [characters],” he says. “To me that’s human life: the knotty, weird grey areas… A good man’s life is wholly uninteresting.”'

#Cillian Murphy #Oppenheimer #Christopher Nolan #Robert Downey Jr #Peaky Blinders #Small Things Like These #Claire Keegan #American Prometheus #28 Days Later #Danny Boyle #Inception #Dunkirk #Batman Trilogy #Bhagavad Gita #Emily Blunt #Kitty #Matt Damon #The Sons of Mr. Green Genes #Watchmen

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sad-endings-suck · 1 month

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listen you’ll think that a weighted blanket is just another blanket. another curio in your collection of pillows, plushies, and comfy things™️. but then you will sleep elsewhere, away from your weighted blanket. maybe on a friend’s couch or a nice hotel bed… and you will realize that nothing can save you from the endless void of the universe like your weighted fucking blanket. it matters not how cushiony the bed. without a weighted blanket you may as well be naked to the elements

#istg #i need it for deep sleep #idk what else to say #shit post #text post #niche #relatable #me #so true

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mybeingthere · 6 months

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Bertha Boynton Lum (1869 – 1954) was an American artist known for helping popularize the Japanese and Chinese woodblock print outside Asia.

Here is her story by Olga Harmsen:

"Bertha Boynton Bull was born May 1869 in Tipton, Iowa. Her father, Joseph W. Bull (1841–1923), a lawyer, and her mother Harriet Ann Boynton (1842–1925) were both amateur artists.

In 1885, Bertha attended the Art Institute of Chicago for one year focusing on design. A few years later she studied stained glass with Anne Weston and illustration with Frank Holme. Her aesthetic sensibilities were further shaped by the display of Japanese prints at the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago and by Arthur Wesley Dow’s influential textbook Composition (1899), which promoted Japanese color woodcuts as models. It is said Bertha was also influenced by Lafcadio Hearn, who translated Japanese legends and fairy tales into popular books.

In 1903 Bertha married Burt F. Lum, a corporate lawyer from Minneapolis, Minnesota, and persuaded him to travel to Japan on their honeymoon. It was her first of many adventures in the Orient.

“Before I went to Japan, I thought that print makers were as easy to find as paper lanterns or kimonos but after I spent six weeks asking everyone who spoke English – guides, rickshaw boys, hotel proprietors and curio dealers – were I could buy tools and see them make prints, and found no one to tell me, I became utterly discouraged and only succeeded the week before I sailed back home, in being directed to a shop where they reproduced old prints, and it was an hour spent there that gave me all the knowledge I had of the process aside from what I had learned from books.

This shop, as great favor, allowed me to pay $20 for thirteen tools (and I was glad to get them at any price) though I found on a later trip that they were of inferior grade and I then bought fifty of the best for $5.

When I returned home I added to the knowledge gained in this short time by reading everything obtainable on the subject, and started to make prints.”

Back in the U.S. she produced some lovely prints like “China Boy” or “Lanterns”. Three years later (1907) she returned to Japan for fourteen weeks with an introduction letter to Igami Bonkotsu (1875-1933), a master block cutter in Tokyo. Bonkotsu disclosed to her the techniques of carving and arranged for her education in block printing.

“…The next day we started early and went miles and miles far into the suburbs of Tokyo, down back streets and finally at the end of an alley, where the poorest people lived, in a very small house of four rooms, we found the man who was supposed to cut the best blocks in Tokyo – and there I worked every day for two months. My teachers were mostly two apprentices of twelve years of age, “the master” coming in once or twice a day to approve, or mostly disapprove, of my progress.”

The master carver was Igami Bonkotsu.

After having learned how to cut, she went to the printer (Kamakichi Nishimura) and there again she stayed many weeks watching young apprentices color in her own prints.

“When I was ready to stop cutting blocks, accompanied by the professor and “the master” I was taken to another part of the city and presented with due ceremony to the printer. We drank tea and ate cake for two hours and all was arranged for me to begin work the next morning. I went every day for four weeks and did no printing but watched the man work out my ideas from the blocks I had cut. It was in a part of the city where foreigners never go and when I appeared at the end of the street it would immediately fill with men, women and children and when we reached the house my rickshaw boy go so near I could slip into the front door. We worked in a room on the first floor with only the paper shojii between us and the mob, all that could come near enough, would wet a finger, punch it through the paper and then use the hole as a peep-hole and you could look up any time and see a dozen or more eyes watching and the entire screen would have to be recovered each day after my departure. None of these people spoke a word of English my Japanese was only useful in bargaining for junk so you see there were some difficulties to be overcome."

Continue https://aboutartnouveau.wordpress.com/.../bertha-lum.../

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