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vcg73 · 4 years

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Free Kurt - Past Kurt

I wrote one extra story for the Free Kurt, anti-proposal challenge, but it’s a little different. 😊

~*~*~*~*~

“What are you wearing?”

Kurt jumped at the sound of a young and judgmental voice speaking directly in his ear.

He was standing on a wide marble step within the hallowed halls of Dalton Academy, surrounded by dozens of friends, acquaintances, and strangers from the assorted western Ohio high schools that Blaine had brought here today to witness his proposal. A proposal that was currently proceeding from the step below his own, and which Kurt was feeling increasingly pressured to accept in spite of his own very real misgivings.

And while it was a very distracting scene, he had not noticed anyone sneaking up behind him. He turned his head slightly, attempting to pay attention to Blaine’s words while simultaneously taking a quick peripheral peek over his right shoulder.

Kurt nearly jumped out of his skin when the voice spoke again, this time right next to him on the left. “Wait, are we getting proposed to?”

Whipping his head to the left, Kurt frowned. Who was that? He didn’t see anyone.

Blaine faltered a little, apparently noticing his distraction. “Kurt?” he mumbled, hazel eyes darting about as his intended frowned and looked everywhere but at him. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t you hear that?” he asked.

“I’m very good looking in the future!” the voice observed, sounding pleased. “Tall too! But that suit has got to go. Peacock blue brocade can be beautiful if used sparingly. Maybe a vest or a jacket against an all black suit. Though on second thought that might make it look like you were about to deal roulette in Vegas. But an entire suit? And with a violet silk shirt to contrast? I know this is just a dream, otherwise I wouldn’t be watching myself, but what has happened to my fashion sense since I got old?”

The young voice was so utterly horrified that Kurt almost laughed in spite of the bizarre circumstance. For he recognized the speaker now. What was even stranger, he remembered now with a startling burst of clarity, that he had had this very dream when he was about 14 years old. Himself standing in what he had thought was a fairy tale palace, watching himself be proposed to by Prince Charming.

Had it not been a dream? For he did recall suddenly that it had occurred following a whack to the head brought about after one of the goon squad, who had already started targeting him in middle school, had aimed badly when shoving Kurt into a locker. Kurt had told his dad that he’d been hit with a dodge ball during P.E. His dad had skeptically bought it, not able to prove otherwise, but Kurt had been given a few days off of school that week, and he remembered being watched like a hawk the whole time.

He also remembered having a lot of strange half-remembered dreams that he had written off to concussion.

A little shiver went down his spine. Surely it was not possible that he had done some kind of astral time travel thing. Wasn’t that just a little too sci-fi for the real world?

And yet, he could not deny the voice that was apparently only in his own ears at this moment. For nobody else was reacting as if they heard a young teenager passing judgment on this whole affair.

“Actually, forget our fashion taste. What the hell is he wearing?”

Kurt bit down a smirk. He had forgotten how dramatically fond of italics he had been as a kid. But he focused, really focused for the first time, on that hideous banana yellow creation that Blaine had chosen, and had to give his alter ego a point on it. No doubt Blaine had wanted something that would force every eye onto him. It wasn’t like he had ever been able to stand not having 100% of the attention in any room turned his way.

Blinking, Kurt wondered where that harsh thought had come from. Sure, it was true, but shouldn’t his thoughts be focused toward how romantic this all was? Apparently listening to the point of view of his less inhibited younger self was sparking a little rebellion inside of him.

“He’s handsome, our boyfriend,” the young voice observed in a clinical tone that made his older self want to laugh. He remembered using it when deciding between two equally perfect outfits, trying to decide which would have more of a ‘wow’ factor. “But his fashion taste is terrible and I don’t like the hair. That slicked back Elvis retro thing is so 1995. It also makes him look like he’s pushing 30. Wait. Is he older than us? How old are we? Are we 30?”

That age must seem ancient to a boy of 14, Kurt supposed. His conscience prickled at the remembrance of his own life plan having been to find someone and become husbands or domestic partners, depending on what the law dictated so far in the future, with him by 30. Before that, he had always expected to live a life of fashionable single fabulosity, with boyfriends by the dozen, while he conquered the career of his choice. It had not been until high school, developing his first bad crush on Finn Hudson, being swamped with insistent hormones, and being constantly surrounded by relationships, that he had started longing for a commitment. Not because he knew what to do with one then, but because he had hated being the only person who did not even have the prospect of a real relationship.

He knew better than that now. So why was he still so determined to do something he knew in his gut that he was not ready for? Even if their ‘teenage dream’ had been perfect, was he really willing to enter into a lifelong commitment before he even hit 20?

Apparently unaware of his thoughts, the voice of his young observer continued with relentless interest. “Oh, my god. Is that Rachel? Tell me you are not thinking of letting Rachel Berry be your attendant. She’s the most obnoxious girl in school! And she’s dressed better than you! Maybe this is actually a nightmare. Oh, hey, there’s Dad. Hi, Dad!”

Kurt looked at his father, looking slightly confused a few steps below where he stood just behind Will Schuester. Burt looked around surreptitiously, as if he had heard the call, but knew it was not possible for it to be there.

“If he’s here at our proposal then he knows about us!” invisible Kurt said happily. “Did we come out to him, and he’s happy for us?”

The sound of a dreamy sigh made Kurt’s eyes unexpectedly prickle with tears. How well he remembered that feeling. That co-mingling of fear, dread, and hope that had gripped him every time he had considered biting the bullet, and telling his father that he was gay. Of course he would have thought he was dreaming all this, seeing his father in his every day attire in a place like this, while they were both surrounded by the glitter and formality of dozens of smiling peers. Friends were another thing that young Kurt had never been sure he would actually experience in real life.

“If this is a dream, does that mean Mom is here too?” the invisible speaker asked, this note of longing in his young voice going straight to Kurt’s heart. He had heard that question deep inside himself for so many years. The small childish part of him that had never entirely accepted that someone as wonderful, fun-loving, and tenderly understanding as his beautiful mother could just be snuffed out of his world after only eight short years.

“No,” he said softly. He knew suddenly that if his mother had been here, she never would have approved of this. She had held the safety and happiness of her only child as a sacred trust from the day he was born until her very last day on Earth. He had always been able to talk to her about anything, and this would have been no different. Mom never would have allowed him to compromise his heart and his future for a dream that he already knew did not live up to reality. “I’m sorry.”

He had been speaking to past-Kurt and to his mother, but when he said the words, it caused Blaine to stop mid-sentence with a look of shock. “What do you mean, no.”

Kurt blinked. Suddenly he knew that while he had not meant those words for Blaine, a part of him had actually wanted to say them out loud ever since he walked in the building.

“Kurt, what are you doing?” Blaine said, his voice more annoyed now as Kurt brushed past him to walk down a few steps, looking around at the crowd and realizing for the first time how few of these people he actually knew. “You’re embarrassing me! I don’t what you’re looking for, but it doesn’t matter. Can we just get on with this thing?”

Kurt turned to look at him, frowning at the irritated question.

“This thing?” he repeated, eyes narrowing. “You mean the thing where I’m missing my flight home so my ex-boyfriend who’s still in high school can ask me to agree to spend the rest of my life with him, even though we’ve only been casually back together as a couple for a couple of days? The thing where we’re both supposed to agree to love and be faithful to one another forever? That thing?”

Apparently he had not entirely lost his love of italics after all. His tone was biting, the reminder of his own youthful hopes and expectations making him feel angry and betrayed all over again.

Instead of understanding, Blaine actually rolled his eyes. “Not that again. I told you, I thought we were over when that happened! And didn’t I promise I would never ever do it again? Isn’t that enough? Why can’t you just get over it? It’s not like it meant anything, Kurt.”

That injured way he said Kurt’s voice, the way that usually deflated whatever outrage Kurt felt and caused him to guiltily give in, enraged him this time.

“No, Blaine. I can’t just get over it. Because we weren’t anywhere near over when it happened, and you know it. It’s called a long distance relationship, and what you did was horrible. Our being boyfriends meant everything to me. The fact that you could throw what we had away on a stranger after just a few weeks apart, because I couldn’t devote all of my attention to you while I was starting a new life in a different state? That meant something to me. It meant that I couldn’t trust you anymore. I don’t trust you, and I can’t forget that happened, so I guess I was wrong about being able to forgive it too. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. I don’t want to spend my whole life with a guy that I don’t believe will keep a vow to honor and cherish me.”

Blaine sputtered. “But, but I . . . what about all this?” He gestured frantically around them as if he could not conceive of such a scene not magically wiping away whatever doubts Kurt had.

“This is all very beautiful,” Kurt said, glancing around at the streamers, balloons, and startled faces that filled the room, “but it’s only a child’s dream. The real world isn’t a pretty song and a lot of smiling faces. It’s hard work, and compromise, and shared joys, and making sacrifices for each other’s happiness. That’s what a real commitment means, Blaine. It means being there for the people you love even when conditions are not ideal. Even when they’re so bad that you don’t know what to say or how to move forward, but you keep trying because you love them too much to ever want to cause that person pain. It means being your best self and making good times for the two of you even when the worst things are happening.”

“I don’t understand,” he admitted, flopping his hands helplessly. “Where is all this coming from?”

Kurt looked at his dad, who was dashing away tears from eyes that carried mingled pride, regret, and new understanding.

“I was reminded on the way here about how much my mom and dad loved each other, and how deeply committed they were to each other. Even when my mom was dying, they never stopped trying to make each other smile. They never would have cheated on each other, or tried to pressure each other into making a decision that they knew was wrong. And when it was just Dad and me, he did the same for me. He wanted me to always know that I had a safe space with him, a home where I could be myself and try to block out all the pain of the outside world. And I did the same for him, even when I was a little clumsy about trying to protect him.”

Burt nodded, his smile wry as he was clearly remembering some of of the awkward, uncomfortable, but always deeply loving moments they had shared together

“I want that again,” Kurt said, turning back to his would-be fiance. “It’s been a long time since I had a place where I know I can always be myself without having to hide half of the things that make me who I am. A place where I can feel safe because I always know that I’m loved and respected. A home where I can be with someone wants to make sure that I’m happy, just because knowing that makes him happy. Because I deserve that, Blaine. And because I’ll do the same for the man that I’ll agree to spent my life with one day.”

“And I’m not that man?” he asked, sounding genuinely sad.

Kurt looked at him, smiled, and gently kissed his cheek. “No. I hope you will be that man for somebody one day, but we both know deep down that it can’t be me. Our relationship started right here in this hallway three years ago. It’s appropriate that it ends in the same place. Good luck, Blaine.”

They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, Blaine reading the truth in Kurt’s steady gaze. “I’ll miss you. I’ll always love you, Kurt.”

“Goodbye. Dad, I’ll meet you out at the car.”

Holding his head high, Kurt walked down the steps and past the shocked crowd of onlookers.

“Thanks, Kurt,” he whispered, no longer able to sense his younger self, who had probably awakened from his dream at the same time his present self had ended the swirling nightmare of his unwanted proposal.

Pushing past the great double doors of Dalton Academy, Kurt smiled and stepped out into the sunlight, leaving the past behind him.

THE END

#Free Kurt #elledelajoie #Anti Klaine proposal challenge

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themagiciansreccenter · 5 years

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Author Spotlight: @thursdayeuclid

Every week we interview a writer from The Magicians fandom. If you would like to be interviewed or you want to nominate a writer, get in touch via our ask box.

First things first, tell us a little about yourself.

I'm a thirty-something disabled bipolar queer trans guy who publishes original m/m romance novels when I can tear myself away from fandom long enough to do so. I'm pretty blind without my glasses. I usually have blue hair, a nose ring, and a man bun. As Thursday Euclid, I write lots of happily ever afters, and as prettyclever, I do pretty much the same thing, except with other people's characters that I'm just borrowing from a surfeit of affection.

How long have you been writing for?

My first stories were written when I was a very young child, but I didn't try a novel until I was nine. It didn't quite work out--I couldn't sustain the work to complete a work of that length, and I was writing long-hand---but I tried again at twelve and managed to finish about 50k words. I had a tumultuous adolescence but eventually found myself in Harry Potter fandom in the early aughts, and then I took a long break trying to be a professional. Turns out, I couldn't stay away from tragic magical boys.

What inspired you to start writing for The Magicians?

I was irritated with how season four was playing out. I overly identify with Eliot Waugh--he's who I want to be when I grow up; I'm 37 so I'm running way behind schedule--and his relationship with Quentin was *so* important to me. When Quentin got back together with Alice, I was like, "This is it. I've gotta write fic."

That was the beginning. A few thousand words came of it. Ever since the season four finale, though, I've done nothing but write oodles of Queliot fic with my cowriter and best friend clancynacht/charlotteschaos in my every free moment. I was already reading Magicians fic, but there just wasn't enough novel-length Queliot to suit me, so me and Char are remedying that in our own weird way.

Who is/are your favourite character(s) to write? What it is about them that makes them your favourite?

Eliot, because he is me in so many ways, and in all the ways he is not me, he is pure fabulosity and sex appeal. Kady, because she is just the baddest bitch. She delights me to no end. Penny 40, because his sass is killer, as is his tsundere ish, and I just really miss him. Char always writes Quentin and Margo when we collaborate because she's fantastic at channeling them, so I stick to my own faves.

Do you have a preference for a particular season/point in time to write about?

I didn't really start writing fic until s4, but (extrapolated) S5 has been my favorite thing to write. I've also loved the Mosaic fic we're writing based on 3x5 and 4x5. Most of what I read is totally AU, though.

Are you working on anything right now? Care to give us an idea about it?

We've now posted like 225,000 words of Queliot fic, still working on Sound & Color, and we're also working on another novel-length fic for Magicians Hallmark Holiday Exchange as I type this. Since it's all anon, I can't tell you much about our story except that we've already written 65,000 words of it, and the mutual pining is real, y'all. It's very festive, and Quentin is an adorable sad boi and Eliot is very soft and spook and also protective.

How long is your “to do list”?

Char literally made a Basecamp list of everything I should be doing outside of fic, but when it comes to fandom, it's really just MHHE and Sound & Color. We write together really rapidly. For example, when we wrote It's Never Over, we were done with over 100k in a month.

What is your favourite fic that you’ve written for The Magicians? Why?

Definitely It's Never Over. It's crackalicious and full of book canon references, and it's the Magicians Season 5 Queliot fans deserve. I'm so proud of how that one turned out. I've never written a story in fandom that people were so passionate about, either. It was published immediately after that heartbreaking finale, and people really responded to how we resurrected Quentin. Also all the smut, because there's so much smut in that story. Sex magic left and right.

Many writers have a fic that they are passionate about that doesn’t get the reception from the fandom that they hoped for. Do you have a fic you would like more people to read and appreciate?

I hoped Sound & Color would get more attention than it did. It's a long, weird (not quite complete yet) trip through 3x5 A Life in the Day. There's already a lot of Mosaic fic out there, and it's a crowded field, although I think Sound & Color stands apart for being so complete and slice-of-lifey. It's not just focused on the most dramatic moments, but on their entire lives together from beginning to end because I couldn't get enough of imagining it. It's a long, thorough exploration.

What is your writing process like? Do you have any traditions or superstitions that you like to stick to when you’re writing?

I like to listen to Radiohead when I write. It's inspiring and relaxing and keeps the words flowing. Also, Char often creates Spotify playlists for our stories, and I'll listen to those to set the mood as we write. Sometimes I listen to Kpop while writing too, because I only understand one word in fifty and it provides excellent background rhythm.

Because I collaborate with Char on just about everything, we used to write together in Google Docs before migrating our process over to OneDrive through Microsoft Word, which also lets us see each other's work in real time and edit each other's additions to the story. In a lot of ways, it's similar to roleplaying, which is why we can write 100k in a month without getting burned out. We've been working together like this for more than ten years now, so we've got it down.

Do you write while the seasons are airing or do you prefer to wait for hiatus? How does the ongoing development of the canon influence and inspire your writing process?

I prefer writing canon-compliant stories during hiatus and writing AUs while the seasons are airing. Historically, I tend to only read in a fandom until hiatus, and then I start writing. Coming from a book-based fandom (Harry Potter), Magicians feels very different dynamically and has different demands.

What has been the most challenging fic for you to write?

Definitely The Fake Dating One Where El's Parents Come to Visit, because it was different from what I'm used to writing. For one, it was short(ish) and two, Eliot's parents were drawn from my parents, who are also extremely religious, conservative, small town bigots. It cut closer to the bone in a lot of ways, but it was also different because Quentin ended up taking a more dominant, protective role, really exhibiting his innate bravery, and it was a little uncomfortable letting Eliot be rescued by Quentin just because I identify so much with El.

Are there any themes or tropes that you like particularly like to explore in your writing?

Idiots in love, mutual pining, fake dating, dicks & daddy issues, biphobia and bi erasure in queer culture, mental illness, family of choice, friends-to-lovers

Are there any writers that inspire your work? Fanfiction or otherwise?

Lev Grossman, JK Rowling, JRR Tolkien, George RR Martin, Stephen King, NK Jemisin, Owlet (her Infinite Coffee series is incredible if you like Stucky), and Olen Steinhauer.

What are you currently reading? Fanfiction or otherwise?

I just finished reading Sapiens by Yuval Noah Harari, which I admit I read just because Chris Evans recommended it, and wow am I glad I did. Changed the way I look at the world.

Now I'm working my way through the Inheritance Trilogy by NK Jemisin, the Raven Tower by Ann Leckie, the Fever King by Victoria Lee, and All the Old Knives by Olen Steinhauer.

What is the most valuable piece of writing advice you’ve ever been given?

Practice makes perfect. If you don't give it your best every day and work on it even when you don't feel as inspired, you'll never develop the muscles it requires to perfect your craft.

Are there any words or phrases you worry about over using in your work?

My characters murmur way too much. Also honestly, just, like.

What was the first fanfic that you wrote? Do you still have access to it?

It was called "Isildur's Bane" and it was a really insanely nerdy LOTR fic about Isildur and the One Ring. It was gen, and it had none of the characters/pairings people actually wanted to read about, but I was damn proud of it. I have no idea what happened to it. It's been almost twenty years.

Rapidfire Round!

Self-edit or Beta?

For fic, Char and I edit each other as we go. I'd love to have an actual beta, but I do not have one.

Comments or Kudos/Reblogs or Likes?

Comments feed my soul. They used to give me anxiety, but now they are my everything.

Smut, Fluff or Angst?

angst with a happy ending

Quick & Dirty or Slow Burn?

slow burn, to read and to write

Favourite Season?

Season Three

Favourite Episode?

All That Hard, Glossy Armor

Favourite Book?

The Magician’s Land

Three favourite words?

herculean, susurrus, callipygian

Want to be interviewed for our author spotlight? Get in touch here.

#the magicians rec center #author spotlight #author spotlight: thursdayeuclid

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mastcomm · 4 years

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Behind a ‘Best New Artist’ Nod: Yola’s 20 Years of Experience

Yola — Yolanda Claire Quartey — sang her first recording session 20 years ago, as a teenager in her English hometown, Bristol. This Sunday at the Grammy Awards in Los Angeles, she has been nominated for best new artist and three other awards: best Americana album for her debut, “Walk Through Fire,” best American roots performance and best American roots song.

For Yola, 36, the two decades in between encompassed homelessness, international arena tours, stealthy appearances on dance-pop hits and, eventually, the hard-won self-reinvention that brought her to Nashville to make “Walk Through Fire” with the Black Keys’ Dan Auerbach as producer.

The one constant was her formidable voice — a range that stretches toward four octaves, backed by the power to infuse whatever she sings with deep soul. Yola can moan and rasp and steamroller her way through a chorus, bringing crowds to their feet; she can also tease out the pain, longing and humor of subtler moments. Onstage and off, she’s a vivid presence: a voluble storyteller with an imposing Afro and a boisterous laugh.

Although Yola grew up in the 1990s, she built her vocal approach on sounds of earlier generations: Aretha Franklin, Dolly Parton, Mavis Staples, Ella Fitzgerald, Otis Redding, Dusty Springfield and more. “I was very isolated from the ability to absorb popular culture,” she said in a recent interview in New York. “Poverty is a wonderful isolator. If you have resources, you have access to all the latest computer games, all the latest records.”

She didn’t. Streaming wasn’t yet an option, so she soaked up music from the LP collections of her mother and her friends’ parents. At her most recent New York City show, a sold-out Music Hall of Williamsburg, Yola interspersed her own songs with showstoppers from Franklin and Elton John, but also delivered an introspective deep cut from the Beach Boys, “Till I Die.”

Yola proudly describes her music as “genre-fluid” and “out of time.” Her Grammy-nominated song, “Faraway Look,” is a reverb-laden ballad that harks back to the early 1960s pop melodramas of the Righteous Brothers and Roy Orbison. Much of her album reaches back to vintage Southern soul: hand-played rather than programmed, sung with fervent grit and grain, and reclaiming the relationship between soul and country music that Yola sums up as “an interstate between Nashville and Memphis.” (Her competitors for best new artist include commercial blockbusters like Billie Eilish, Lizzo and Lil Nas X.)

For Yola, the songs about love and self-preservation on “Walk Through Fire” mark her escape from what she recalls as the “negative, abusive environment” of her 20s — when she was working constantly as a singer and collaborating songwriter — and from a “bro-tocracy” that convinced her for too long that she couldn’t make music on her own.

“I was just made to be afraid of my own personality in every single situation I was in before I was solo,” she said.

Yola describes “Walk Through Fire” as “a breakup record” with her diffident former self. In the video for “Ride Out in the Country,” she drives a pickup truck into the backwoods and buries a corpse that also turns out to be Yola. “Doormat Yola goes in the ground where she belongs!” she explained, with a cheerful cackle.

“For so much of the album, I’m talking about who I was, not who I am,” she added. “You have to go back to a previous incarnation of yourself, you have to reconnect with that old part of yourself — and the vulnerability in that state — to be able to tell the story.”

Yola dropped out of college to work as a singer, and despite some lean times — at 21 she was evicted and homeless in London — she got gigs as a “frontwoman for hire” with her undeniable voice. In the mid-2000s she sang for Bugz in the Attic, a dance-pop group that drew large audiences in Europe, Asia and Australia, and in 2008 she toured with the Bristol trip-hop pioneers Massive Attack. She also sang and co-wrote melancholy, rootsy songs for her own group Phantom Limb.

Yola’s first teenage recording session was with the Bristol-based production team Distorted Minds, and behind the scenes, she continued to work as a studio singer and topliner for electronic producers, belting hooks others had written or coming up with lyrics and melodies for their tracks. “All of my old network that were players and music makers, there were a handful of token women and they were the singers. And then there’s a crowd of men and they’re like the expertise, all the players and the technicians,” she said. “My whole life was one of codependency.”

Yola’s voice topped British dance-club hits including “Turn Back Time” by Sub Focus, for which she wrote the top line, and “Don’t Look Back” by Duke Dumont. And because British copyright law provides “neighboring rights” royalties to performers as well as songwriters, her work was profitable. But with rare exceptions — like the country-blues-rooted “The Devil and Midnight,” which she wrote with the producer Nitin Sawhney — she refused to be credited for her studio vocals.

“Part of the contract was that you don’t use my name. Because when I debut, I want to debut under my own guise,” she said.

In 2012, Yola started to redefine herself, a process that accelerated after the death of her mother the following year. She broke away from old associates, learned to play guitar and started writing songs on her own.

“It dawned on me that I needed to be my own rich daddy,” she said. “Because what’s the music industry full of, other than rich kids who had daddies who could prop them up?” With her dance-pop royalties, she financed and produced her largely acoustic debut EP, “Orphan Offering,” billing herself as Yola Carter. Its opening song, “Home,” turns into a multitracked vocal crescendo, vowing, “Let’s get going!”

For her showcase at the 2016 Americanafest in Nashville, Yola got a crucial endorsement from NPR Music. She went on tour with a full band, using those royalties from her dance hits — “the bank of Yola,” she said — to pay them.

By 2017, after touring festivals in the United States, Europe and Scandinavia, she had built considerable word of mouth. She returned to Americanafest for a more prominent spot. A video of her performing reached Auerbach, who was building his Easy Eye Sound studio and label in Nashville. “As soon as I heard her I wanted to meet her,” he said by phone. “I was instantly struck by her voice, by the range of her voice, just the command that she has — it spoke to me.”

They wrote and recorded “Walk Through Fire” fast. Yola, Auerbach and assorted co-writers — including Dan Penn, a writer on Aretha Franklin’s “Do Right Woman, Do Right Man,” who joined Auerbach and Yola for “Faraway Look” — got together for songwriting sessions, often with different combinations in the morning and the afternoon. In a week and a half, they had dozens of songs. “Some people have it and some don’t,” Auerbach said. “She just sounds like a record.”

Yola was collaborating again, but in Nashville, Auerbach said, “She was the leader. She’s unafraid to take it to the edge, and her edge is way further than most people’s.”

Getting recognized with Grammy nominations for work made on her own terms “made me feel as though for the first time, I had the sense of a safety net,” Yola said. “I’m O.K. I can carry on growing and if I need to take another risk then just take it. It’s all working. You’re not crazy. This is the solid foundation on which I build my fabulosity.”

from WordPress https://mastcomm.com/entertainment/behind-a-best-new-artist-nod-yolas-20-years-of-experience/

#Entertainment

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nonsense-and-shenanigans · 7 years

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(First, go to this post if you don’t know what my #Before30BucketList is. I’ll also be going back to that original post and noting each goal accomplished if you want to keep up but miss out on some of my posts.)

This one was a really, really big deal.

I’ve spent my whole life going to concerts and rallys and shows and plays and movies and museums and whatever else people get excited about. But I’ve also spent my whole life loving books more than anything. And, until now, had never been to a single book signing or met a prominent author. I had heard musicians explain and sing songs that touched my heart, and I had watched my feelings played out on stage, I had seen art that spoke to me up close, but I had never heard an author discuss or read the words that lived in my soul.

So when I saw one of my favorite authors announce her book tour this year, I jumped on it. Then I decided to look up who else might be reading/signing close to me, and I found him.

The man who is made entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions.

(If you don’t know that quote we can’t be friends. Just kidding, keep reading, and maybe you’ll learn it.)

As a toddler, my favorite book was Goodnight Moon (Margaret Wise Brown). As I grew, obviously that changed. I don’t remember them all, but as an adolescent You Don’t Know Me (David Klass) really spoke to me. Of course all of the Harry Potter (J.K. Rowling) books were in there, and as a teen I fell in love with Ellen Hopkins (Crank, among others). Once I started to fully come into my right-of-passage reading, I, like so many others, became glued to Catcher In The Rye (J.D. Salinger). As I grew into adulthood I gravitated toward the outcast novels — those written about drugs and insanity and homosexuality, with snark and exaggerated opinions — people who experienced struggles like mine with a crude mindset. Candy (Luke Davies) remains an all-time favorite, but Running With Scissors (Augusten Burroughs) imprinted itself in my veins and became a part of me.

My personal copy. I had the original cover design but someone must have borrowed it and never given it back. I keep a log of who borrows what book now. Because I’m crazy.

(p.s. – If you’ve seen any of these movies but haven’t read the books, please don’t judge a book by its movie adaptation. Some of the best books I’ve read turned into some of the worst movies I’ve seen.)

Sometimes I feel silly, telling people my favorite book is his most popular, because mainstream isn’t cool or something. But then I tell myself to shut up and that I’m not cool anyway, so admitting to loving something that’s fucking amazing isn’t going to change my seat in the lunchroom.

I love everything Burroughs writes. Even if I don’t agree with it, I find myself accepting him wholly and begging for more. His memoirs put me in times and places I’d never otherwise be, but also bring a sense of home when his intense, blunt words intermingle with my delicate, rambunctious, off-kilter brain. His fiction is hilarious and riveting. Even in times (and they are rare) when I find myself not wanting to read certain stories or opinions, I later find that I needed to read them. I don’t really believe much in role models, because no one’s exactly like you, but he comes damn close because I relate so much to him, yet sometimes not at all.

Anyway, enough gushing. I stalked his Facebook and Googled my ass off and learned he would be in New Jersey on Tuesday, March 28th. So I put it on my calendar and my dad’s calendar and my husband’s calendar and my mom’s calendar and my sister-in-law’s calendar. I usually like to have a partner in crime (or two) when I have incredible experiences so my mom and sister-in-law were planning to come with me, and we had it all set. Except sometimes I suck, so while I knew there was a $17 charge for the NJ book signing (it also came with a paperback copy of his latest book, Lust & Wonder, which I wanted because I only have the hard copy), I somehow put it out of my mind until the weekend before. And of course, when I went to purchase the tickets they were sold out.

Me being me, however, I also knew pretty much every other date and venue on the book tour, and it turned out he would be in NYC that Monday, March 27th. Now you may think that New York is much farther away from me than a location in my home state, but I’m at the very bottom and NJ, PA, and NY are oddly set up so they were both actually the same distance. I was just worried that, since Burroughs had spent so much of his life in New York, and it was a free event, and it was freakin’ New York City, that it would be mobbed and I would miss out. I also found out that literally no one I knew was available to go with me.

So I got a babysitter and every book he’s ever written and my “I can’t live without books” book tote and my Jenny Lawson You Are Here coloring-but-not-really book and my gel pens and I set off for the big city, all by my lonesome.

I arrived four hours early. When I went to Jenny Lawson’s book signing I got there an hour early and all the seats were already taken so I had to sit on the floor (but in the front, so there, seat-takers) so naturally I assumed I wouldn’t be the first to arrive. The Barnes & Noble customer service representative looked at me like I was on fire and breathing spiders when I told her I was there for Augusten Burroughs. Also like she pitied me, which didn’t make me mad but rather humored because I wasn’t missing anything by waiting — I had my books (and a whole book store) to keep me company, while she would miss out on meeting a legend because she had to sit behind a desk. Who’s the winner, really?

This is my “I’m crazy and arrive 4 hours early” face.

While I was waiting I knocked out some aspects of my Traveling Alone bucket list item and felt very peaceful and content. It’s not such a bad thing having to wait for four hours exploring book stores and Manhattan and meeting new people and simply doing whatever I wanted. But I was a little neurotic and kept venturing back to Barnes & Noble to make sure some mad rush of fans didn’t show up and kick me out of my first-in-line spot.

They didn’t. I was the first one at the door, and the first one in the door, and the first one to pick my seat, which was obviously front and center. The rest of the crowd still thought I was crazy when they learned that I had arrived so early, but hey, when you’re passionate about something you fight for it. I fought time.

This is how front and center I was. There was maybe a foot between the front of my chair and the stage.

I was so giddy and so nervous and didn’t know what to do with my hands or my three bags or my phone or my breathing. I don’t know why I get nervous — I preach all day every day that politicians and police and celebrities and the like are all people — humans like you and me with flaws and fabulosities (I just made that word up), but when I get around authors I freeze and become a blubbering idiot.

We all got seated and excited and I kept looking around to see what other kinds of degenerates Burroughs attracted, and I was surprised to find a wide array of people — a businessman, a woman and her son who was actually named Augusten, teachers, young adults, older adults, gay men, straight men, the rebels and the righteous. We all came together over the love of writing or reading, specifically by one man who did not fit into all of our labels.

I was actually surprised to learn that Burroughs was more “stereotypically gay” than I had pictured him. I don’t know if that makes me a good person for assuming he was just a human, or a bad person for noticing “gay traits”, or maybe I was good turned bad or maybe I was just another person trying to scrub out the brainwashing done by growing up in American Millennium society. But I did learn a bit about myself, and him, and I felt like I got to know him much better which calmed me down a lot because usually I have a tendency to build people up into unattainable perfection in my head and am nearly always let down by the real thing.

He started out by reading a section from Lust & Wonder, and hearing how he narrated it in his head while writing was an experience I can’t even explain. We read things according to our own biases, and it’s often thrilling to learn how words on paper were meant to be read — with the proper exaggerations and pauses and snark.

This clip is long, but if you’re anything like me, you’ll be able to watch it a million times. Otherwise, skip around, watch as much or as little as you’d like.

Then the room was open to ask questions. I’ve learned, in the whole two book signings/readings I’ve been to, that I need to not ask the first question, but learn to read the author and prepare myself for their ending so I can shoot up my hand at exactly the right time — not too soon as to avoid being rude, but not too late as to avoid be overlooked. I think I’ve perfected this art. (This is something that should be taught. People teach everything nowadays, maybe I’ll make my own “When to raise your hand at exactly the right moment to be noticed without being pushy” class.)

So I asked my question, which I didn’t even know needed to be asked until it came out, and his response was perfect and detailed and meaningful.

(I have this horrible habit of constantly messing with my nose and I never noticed how gross it looks until now and I’m horrified that I did it not only in front of, but to one of my swoon-worthy celebrities.)

After the questions from all types of audience members, we lined up to get our books signed. (I told people how excited I was and they agreed but then I noted that this was better than meeting Brad Pitt and they just gave me weird looks and stopped talking to me.) I was the only one with all nine of his books so I was worried he wouldn’t want to sign them all, or there wouldn’t be enough time, or his handler (manager was the word I was looking for but handler came out and now I think it’s fitting) would push some of my books to the side. But none of that happened. Burroughs was thrilled to take as much time as needed to sign everyone’s books the way they wanted, and talk to them about whatever nonsense came out of their mouths (I also told him the Brad Pitt thing and he said “No, it’s really not”, which is the same thing Jenny Lawson said so now my mission is to make writers realize how wonderful and talented and essential they are), and to take pictures with anyone who asked.

When I got my picture taken with Jenny Lawson I looked awkward and starstruck standing behind her, trying not to touch her but be close enough to look like she actually cares about me, all while hiding a horrible breakout I had on my chest. So this time I embarrassingly but wonderfully asked to take a selfie, and Burroughs was not only more than happy to partake but put his arm around me, got as close as possible, and let me take two to make sure at least one was acceptable.

This is the good one where I look like a normal person taking a picture with her friend.

This is the funny one where I’m like “Holy fuck guys LOOK WHO’S TOUCHING ME”, But it’s still adorable, right?

The selfie thing totally worked out, by the way, because I’ve been breaking out like a 14-year-old lately and Burroughs mentioned that a facial he’d had a few days prior made him break out, but I’ve tweaked the light intake settings on my front camera to make us look flawless.

So in the end I got to experience a sincere reading, engage in extensive Q&A discussion, get every single book personally signed, take an everlasting selfie with my closest-thing-to-a-role-model, and partake in more personal conversation in which he told me he would remember my blog and check it out (Yes, I almost fainted) (Yes I’m also aware it might not happen). (If you’re reading this — I am crazy but I swear it’s usually in a good, quirky way.)

Then, high on life and experience and thinking magical thoughts and happiness, I went on my next #Before30BucketList adventure (coming soon).

Companions: Books, Augusten Burroughs, other fans

Cost Book for Son: $5 (I always bring him home a book when I go to a book signing) (Travel costs included in “Travel Alone” instead)

Goal # 3: Meet Favorite Author Accomplished: 3-27-2017

Bucket List Total: $129

#Before30BucketList: Meet Favorite Author (First, go to this post if you don’t know what my #Before30BucketList is. I’ll also be going back to that original post and noting each goal accomplished if you want to keep up but miss out on some of my posts.)

#Before30BucketList #augusten burroughs #authors #Book Reading #Book Signing #Book Tour #bucket list #Favorite Author #NYC #Role Model #Running With Scissors

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