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#the best i've found is a few in bristol and I don't want to be spending £10 in train tickets as well as the usual fee
mamachasesmayhem · 7 months
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Flight Risk (3/4)
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Pairing: Jake Seresin x Bristol Bradshaw
Warnings: sappy lovey feelings, spicy smut. 18+/minors DNI!
Part One/Part Two/Part Three/Part Four
You're my sunrise, you keep comin' up
You're in every conversation, every smoky situation
If it's water, if it's whiskey in my cup
You're the memories I'm drinkin', you're the thoughts I'm always thinkin'
It don't matter how far I run
You're the one that I can't run from
Used to be my late nights, love me till the daylights
Now you're just my sunrise, you keep comin' up
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Bristol
I'm an idiot.
A certified moron to think I could keep my feelings for Jake fucking Seresin at a surface level.
To make matters worse, I'm an even bigger idiot to think he wouldn't haunt my every waking thought when I pushed him out of my life.
Nat and Bob have asked me what's up on numerous occasions, and l've successfully skirted answering them. Whether or not they believe me is a different story. Natasha is the one person l've talked to about my relationship with Jake. She and I have been friends since she met Bradley in flight school, and the permanent move to Miramar has only made our bond tighter. She's been my best friend, second only to Jake. Until recently, I guess. I thought icing Jake out would make my life easier, but I think it's worse now than it was before. I see him everywhere. The clean break I was hoping for is a splintered mess. I swear, every little thing reminds me of him. I went grocery shopping and instinctively grabbed a tub of the disgusting plain Greek yogurt he puts in his breakfast smoothies. I went to order a pizza and had one with sausage on one half and pepperoni on the other before I could even realize it, then quickly took off both toppings altogether. Hell, a bird shit on my windshield the other day and it reminded me of when a seagull dropped a bomb on him at the beach a few months back. I missed him so much that it hurt and I found myself almost breaking down and calling him on more than one occasion.
Then my dumbass thought of the genius idea to mislead him into thinking I was dating Cole. In theory, it was gonna work out great. Nat had come to pick me up from work one day because I had a nasty ocular migraine, and she had left Cole stunned. When I came back to work the next day, he has asked me about her and I offered to set them up. Since Natasha Trace is intimidating by nature, unless she lets you in her inner circle, he was a little skittish on being set up on a blind date. So l offered to bring him around the squad until he felt comfortable enough to ask her out himself. In a shocking twist of events, the great Phoenix herself loves the sweet, quiet type and they hit it off immediately. Since they weren't ready to let the nosy shits that are our friends into their newly developed relationship, we came to the agreement that we would all keep up the current dynamic of Cole sticking close by me whenever they were around. While Nat has a take no shit mentality, she's also a terrible liar and wouldn't be able to deny if anyone suspected anything. Me, however? I'm a Bradshaw, mischief and a way with words are in my genetics so it was easy for me to give believable non answers. Plus, for my own selfish gain, it let Jake to believe Cole was there for me, even though I neither confirmed nor denied it. Which is how I find myself locked in the warm embrace of one Jake Seresin on the patio of the Hard Deck, my true feelings for him escaping the jar that l've tried to keep sealed tight.
"No matter how hard I tried to run from how I felt about you, still feel about you, I couldn't ever get far." I admit, my chin dropping to my chest to avoid his bright green gaze. "I get it if you don't want this, I was a complete bitch and I'm an absolute mess."
A warm palm finds it's way to my cheek, thumb slipping under my chin and tilting upwards. "Good thing I've been conditioned to keep things clean for the better part of my life," Jake teases.
My nose scrunches and his hands settle back on the railing behind me. "That was bad."
"Yeah, it was. I'll give you that," Jake chuckles.
"But I want you and every bit of chaotic energy that comes with you. I never thought I'd want to be a one woman kinda guy, the idea used to give me hives for fucks sake! But then you came along and knocked me on my ass without even trying.  Sure, it started as just sex. Then you took care of me when I celebrated a little too hard after Mav's promotion. I thought it was all a drunken dream until woke up with a trash can by the bed and my sheets smelled like coconut because you were still there."
"I'm scared you won't want me anymore when you don't have to chase me, that it's only been the determination of winning keeping you with me. Hangman doesn't chase girls, they fall at his feet." I admit sheepishly.
Both of his hands, calloused from working on his plane, gently hold both sides of my face and mine rest on his wrists. The way this big, strong man could have such a tender touch has always short circuited my brain. "Teenaged me would punch me in the dick for this, but I haven't even looked at another girl since I met you. Because that's all they are to me, girls. One night only, a means to an end. I'll call you a liar if you ever repeat it, but I didn't realize what I missing until you wormed your way into my heart. You think I can fuck you within an inch of your life based on chemistry alone? Hell no! I couldn't do that with just anybody."
My eyes well with tears and his thumbs swipe them off my cheeks as they slip out. "Nobody would believe me if told them you were a sap anyway. Please continue." I sniffle and he presses a sweet kiss to my nose.
"Dick," his chest rumbles with a low laugh. "I'm serious though, the level of trust I have with you should be apparent in the nasty shit we do. I was also extremely selfish before you, again it was all a means to an end. But making you scream my name was more than ego boost, it was...God. It was more than be trying to be the best, I wanted to make you feel the best. Even if that meant I'd leave with blue balls." I blush at the memories of some of the "nasty shit" we've done. "Anyway, you little perv. My soul is tied to yours. Everyone before you is a blur and I know there won't be anyone after you. So, whatcha say? Wanna give this a real shot?"
Tears are flowing freely at this point and I nod in his hold. "I think you might be worth the risk, Seresin." I grin cheekily before his lip crash down on mine.
I feel comfort for the first time in weeks from the gentle brush of his kiss. My arms snake up around his neck and I melt into his chest as his hands grip my waist and pull me closer. His touch alone is like aloe on a sunburn, being wrapped up in him again immediately soothes the pain the distance I forced on us left behind. I push up on my tiptoes to deepen the kiss and l'm quickly pulled impossibly closer to him, his already hard cock against my hip. I gasp at the contact and Jake takes the opportunity to slip his tongue between my parted lips. My nails trace against his skin before they tangle into the cropped hair at the nape of his neck.
He breaks the kiss and drops his forehead to mine with a satisfied sigh. "Shit, honey. Didn't think I was ever gonna get to feel that again.”
I grin slyly. "What? This?" | repeat the action, adding a little extra pressure as my nails drag across his scalp.
Jake groans and it vibrates through every cell in my body. Before I know it, he's gripping the backs of my thighs, wrapping my legs around his waist and carrying me down the steps of the deck and towards the soft sand. I giggle at his antics then drop my lips to his neck, peppering kisses up and down his tan skin. I nip at his jaw and relish in the feeling of him flexing it at my touch.
I'm about to ask where we're going when my back lands roughly against a wooden wall. I pull back to look at Jake and he's wearing a bright smile that surely matches mine when I realize where we are.
The lifeguard shack.
Where he pulled me to sneak a kiss and tell me how sexy he thought it was when I tackled my own brother in dog fight football. Where we've snuck off to when we couldn't stand to not have our hands on each other around our friends while at the Hard Deck. Where he found me on the day of what would have been my parents' 40th anniversary. Where I realized my feelings were deeper than I wanted to let on, because not even my brother had reached out to me that day. I reach up and trace my fingers along the side of his face, my focus locked on the emotion swimming behind the gorgeous green of his eyes that is thinned to a slim ring around his lust blown pupils.
"Jake." I whisper.
"I know, birdy. I know," he replies softly, and that's all it takes for me to launch myself at him again.
Because Jake Seresin is a smooth mother fucker, he manages to pop the lock on the door and carry me inside without stumbling in the slightest.  Somehow, with only the light of the moon peeking in between the slats of the roof, Jake finds a blanket and gently places me back on my feet so he can spread it out. I slip off my shoes and step backwards on the blanket, my hand slipped in his. Once his boots are off, I sink to the floor and tug him with me. Kneeling between my parted legs, Jake's palms trace a scorching hot path from my ankles, along the outside of my thighs, and lands on the skirt of my dress pooled at my hips. He grips the soft fabric in his hands, like he's trying to ground himself. Usually I'd tease him, ask him if he came in his pants like a teenager already. But not tonight, I can't bring myself to tease him. Not when the depth of his feelings for me is shining in his eyes, not when there's a palpable charge in the air around us, not when we're finally honest with ourselves.
My hands trace across the tops of his shoulders, down his arms, and around to his sides where I grab the worn material of his tshirt and start dragging it upwards in an attempt to get it off of him. Jake catches on and starts pushing the hem of my dress up too, matching my pace.
"Up," he commands once it bunches at my chest, and I happily comply. My dress is ripped over my head and tossed onto a table in a corner, Jake's shirt sailing close behind. With his hands softly guiding me back to the floor, I grip his dogtags in my hand and pull his lips back to mine. The kiss is messy as the lace that barely counts as panties is ripped from my body. Literally ripped. A soft mewl falls from my lips, because holy shit was that hot, and my hands reach for his belt buckle.  Once I feel the cool metal on my fingertips, my hands are snatched away and pinned above my head, making me pout.
"Mmm, not yet. I have a theory I wanna test real quick. I had a downright filthy dream about you the other night, in a position almost identical to this one, and I wanna see if I can make it come true."
My eyebrow pops up in curiosity but I nod my head regardless. He wasn't lying when he said the trust between the two of us is something special. He leans over me, the chill of the metal of his tags against my sternum making me shiver as his lips trail down my jaw. It's not anything new, he's used that metal chain in plenty of ways before. I'm about to question him when his hips roll forward and the cool metal buckle meets the warm wetness that's steadily been building between my legs. I gasp and my legs lock around his waist on instinct.
"Ohmygodjake!" The words are pushed out of me surprised whimper.
"Yeah? That feel good honey?" He asks between kisses and nips at my collarbone.
"S.....sso good," I moan out shakily.
Jake lets a little more weight rest against me before he gently rolls his hips against mine. One of the ridges in the design on the buckle catches my clit and have no control over the noise that leaves my mouth as my back arches and my eyes roll back. Jake is quick to bring a palm across my mouth, keeping the sounds at bay. He'll never fully stifle them, he loves the noises he can pull from me too much for that, but he will quiet them to where only he can hear.
"That's it. Look at you, good girl. You're already close, aren't you?" I nod frantically, needing juuuuuust a little bit more before the buzzing in my veins overwhelms me. "I bet you're so wound up, haven't had me there to take care of you. I know you've probably tried to do it yourself, but you can't quite get it done the way I can, huh? Nothing can make you feel as good as I do, yeah honey?"
His deep voice in my ear and one last firm roll of his hips is what does it. My heels dig into his back as I scream "yes Jake! Only you!"
Jake leans in and kisses me as I come down, hands gently stroking my face as he whispers sweet praises in my ear. Once I blink the haze out of my eyes, I find Jake has pushed his jeans and boxers down to his knees. His belt is out of its loops, tongue sliding over the buckle as he moans at the taste.
"Always taste so sweet, my love. You ready for me?" He asks.
"You should know the answer to that. I'm always ready for you," I smirk back.
He gently pushes into me, taking only a couple thrusts to fully seat himself since l'm soaked.
Once he bottoms out, he groans and bends down to bite at my shoulder.
"You feel so fucking perfect. Fuck, I forgot how damn wet you get for me, how tight you squeeze me. Damn baby, if I could choose how I go, it'd be just like this" he pants between slow thrusts.
One of my hands lands in his hair and the other is on his back between his shoulder blades, leaving crescent shapes and red streaks across his skin as he finds the perfect rhythm and continuously strokes that spongy spot deep inside me. Before know it, I'm cumming again. One of my legs is hitched up over his shoulder as he picks up speed, hips furiously pounding into me and pushing me back to the edge I'd just barely returned from.
"Come on, gorgeous. Gimme one more, you can do it,” he coos as his hip bone is smacking so hard against the back of my thigh that l'm sure l'lI have a bruise tomorrow. Damn if I don't love when he leaves marks, though. One hand is clasped over my shoulder, pulling me even harder against him. The other is gripping my hip, suddenly squeezing even harder and making his blunt fingernails dig into me and break the skin. That tiny bit of pain not only sends me over the edge, I'm damn near dropkicked into it and I turn my head and bite into Jake's bicep to keep from having anyone in a 5 mile radius make sure I wasn't being brutally murdered.
Jake rolls off of me and pulls me into his side as our breathing evens out, gently stroking my hair as we both come down from a mind numbing orgasm. Once my brain returns to my body, I look around the tiny shack.
"How'd you get in here? Not that I'm complaining, but I recall there being a lock?" I ask.
"A certain lifeguard may have seen me pining and gave me a copy of the key for when I finally decided to win you over for good," Jake says with a grin.
"Ahhh, Maddie Marie and her southern belle conflict resolution skills strike again," I smile back. "We owe her a favor or twelve."
Madison Marie Shaw; local lifeguard & paramedic, former beauty Queen, and the love of my brother's life.
Now we can add mediator and overall angel to the list. We quickly redress, Jake grabbing the blanket and leaving it on the chair outside with every intention of taking it home and washing it.
Once our shoes are in our hands, we start walking back up to the bar to rejoin our friends. Just as I lift my foot to put my shoe back on before climbing the stairs of the deck, a pained groan sounds from the right of the door.
"Aw, c'mon man! You couldn't have waited until you got home to defile my precious baby sister?!"
I jump and yelp in surprise, my brother being the last person I would have expected. "Bradley! Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me! What are you doing out here?"
"Well, I saw Bagman here follow you outside, and since his truck is still out front I figured y'all were still here. Warranted a quick check to make sure you didn't murder him. Now I wish I were dead so I wouldn't have to see your post coital glow," he gags. "Could've gone my entire life without seeing that."
Mine and Jake's eyes bounce between each other and my brother in rapid succession, both thinking we've clearly entered an alternate reality.
"You...know? And you're not mad?" l ask, confusion written all over my face.
Bradley nods. "I've known since almost the beginning. I wanted to be mad about it, trust me, I did. But then I saw how gentle he was with you. The world could be going up in flames around him, but he wouldn’t notice because he’d be looking at you. Sure, he was still a dick at times, but he wasn't when he was with you."
Jake is stunned speechless. He was prepared to go full medieval knight and fight for my hand with my brother, not have it gifted to him. "I. Uhh... what?" He finally stutters out.
"After about 4 months, I saw a look in your eye that I've only seen in pictures and heard stories about. You look at her like my dad looked at my mom. And then she got the same look of adoration in her eyes when she talked about you that my mom had when she told us stories about our dad, about how he was her ‘for a lifetime’ love. I know how you can be, Birdy. You don't like to let people in, so I didn't question it. Figured you'd tell me when you were ready. Then you two spent the last 3 months being miserable idiots. Hangman wasn't even an ass anymore, he was just quiet. Which is terrifying, by the way. So Mads and I decided we could give y’all a little nudge. I'm glad it worked. Not a lot of people meet their soulmate, but you two did. We can talk more about it later, because I can't take you seriously with your messed up hair and flushed cheeks. Get outta here, l'll fill the others in on what happened. I love you, baby bird." Bradley gives me a tight hug and moves to Jake to do the bro hug back slap thing and Jake threads his fingers back through mine once they separate.
"I love you too, Brad Brad." I kiss his cheek and we make our way to the truck. Jake opens the door and helps me climb in as always and is quick to hop into his own seat.
He starts the truck and turns to look at me before putting it in reverse. "I love you, Bristol Bradshaw. The ‘for a lifetime’ kinda love." He presses a tender kiss to my knuckles and smiles at me.
"I love you too, Jake Seresin. For this lifetime and any other where I’m lucky enough to have you.”
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So I finished reading Mark Watson's latest novel, Contacts, which is the second book of his I've read, following Eleven (which I now consider to be one of my favorite novels). I've decided to write down a few thoughts on the novel, light spoilers and very, very long ramblings ahead:
TW: suicide, depression
You could tell Mark drew from personal experience while writing this. If you follow his standup and interviews he's done over the years, you could draw parallels between himself and the book's main character, James. Both have family in Bristol, they both have a sister living somewhere down under (James' sister lives in Australia, while I'm 90% sure Mark's sister lives in New Zealand), and both experienced the dissolution of a years-long relationship. It's not immediately clear where Mark's own experiences and that of James, a character plotting his own suicide, necessarily begin and end, but the latter's characterization felt incredibly real and lived-in.
Overall I really enjoyed how Mark handled mental health and depression in this book. The sadness and hopelessness that comes with depression is talked about lots in media, and it pops up plenty in Contacts as well, but what's also discussed is the shame that comes with it: not even wanting to think the word "suicide," or feeling a certain way while also skirting around the language associated with it. James has these internal struggles at some points throughout the novel, and while it isn't something central to the plot itself, it added an extra layer of humanity to his character.
Circling back to my previous point, I came across an interview he did in promotion of the book, published by the Mirror (I wish I found a better source, sorry), where he said,
"There were stretches of life in which it felt as if it would just be good to be able to get away from it all, to turn things off."
This is fairly similar to how James' suicidal ideations were described in Contacts, in which he sought ending his life as a means of escape, or as a means of relief. I'll be absolutely clear and say I'm so glad Mark seems to be doing much better now, and that he's able to speak on this experience with clarity and in the past tense. But reading that wasn't the most pleasant revelation.
Another thing I loved about Contacts, and Eleven as well, is how Mark likes to write from the perspectives of several different characters, and weave them together to reveal overarching themes. I told my mom about Eleven when I finished reading it, and she went "oh, so it's like Crash?" I'll admit I've never seen Crash, and don't intend to based on all the think pieces telling me how it aged poorly and it was terrible Oscar bait, but I have heard that it deals with the same premise of how everyone's lives are more interconnected than they realize. With Contacts, Mark definitely takes from the same playbook, as with each chapter and switched perspective, he slowly reveals the emotional effects each character may have had on each other, and how every action can have its averse consequences.
Mark also does this thing that I love, where he hints at some catalytic event that happened in a character's life that forced them to act a certain way, but he doesn't quite reveal what that might be until near the end, which gives the reader a much fuller understanding to the character. Several questions are immediately asked near the beginning of the book: why does James want to do this? Why does his sister resent him? How come James and his ex broke up? Why did he and his best friend have a falling out? I enjoy that Mark doesn't insult the reader's intelligence by answering all these questions near the beginning, but instead letting the reader understand where they are emotionally first, in order to further contextualize what may have led them to that point.
Now, this is one thing I did struggle with -- the ending. I'll admit I went on Goodreads before picking up the book, and saw people complaining about the ending, or just finding it weak in general. Upon finishing the book, I was absolutely floored by the resolution at the end, but whether I think it's incredible or just plain confusing is something I'm yet to fully decide on. It was definitely a bold decision, and in the oft chance I'll ever get to ask Mark about it myself (which will probably never happen but a man can dream), I'd want to know his thought process behind it. Not that I want every author to explain the endings to their books to me all the time, but I feel he'd have a very thoughtful response.
Last night after finishing the novel, I went on Google to find any interviews he'd done about the book, and came across this appearance he did on the Writer's Routine podcast from 2020. It's an extremely refreshing listen, as Mark talks at length about his writing process, how he finds inspiration to write, and even his preferences in fonts. Most of the interviews I've consumed of his understandably deal with his comedy, which is of course how he pays the bills, but it was nice to hear from Mark Watson the author, and I wish the interview was longer than its 45-minute runtime. I learned Mark is a Grizzly Bear fan, which makes him cooler than he already was, and that even if he wasn't paid to write, he'd still be doing it anyway. The interviewer pointed out how unusual that was, as many writers he'd spoken to often say how laborious writing can be, but Mark's genuine passion and continuing enjoyment of writing felt inspiring to hear, and maybe it's why I made this giant post about one of his books.
Mark was asked about any advice he'd give to aspiring writers, and in true Mark fashion, he said something to the effect of "I normally don't give advice cause, honestly, I generally don't know what I'm doing," but he urged people to just keep writing and keep things on the page, even if it's shit or not your best work, just to keep the juices flowing.
The entire interview I linked below. It's something I highly recommend, and it doesn't spoil anything about Contacts in case you wanted to pick it up. I'm looking forward to reading whatever novel of Mark's ends up in my lap next, and I'm open to recommendations.
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cookinguptales · 1 year
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So a few days ago I finished listening to the last of (the public episodes of) Old Gods of Appalachia. It was... honestly kind of a weird and personal listening experience, and I had to go slowly because I'd be lying if I said it didn't pull up some stuff from my childhood that I didn't enjoy.
I loved writing of the show and most of the voice acting! Most of the storylines were so, so, so good. I wish I could write like that. But the best writing in the world is still a very strange experience when it has ties to a life you left behind a very long time ago.
(cut for length! don't want to spam the poor tag)
Mama's side of the family is from that part of the country, and I have never had a good relationship with any of them. Same old story. Pentecostal/Baptist/Church of God. Enough said, right? lmao. I'm a queer disabled woman with a strong interest in magic and folklore so you can probably guess how well all that went. I'm NC with most of them now, very LC with what's left, and most of what I hear about them is through Mama, who still tries to talk to them as much as they abuse her. Last I heard, they were mostly Q.
Old Gods is an incredibly accurate show when it comes to depicting that part of the world, to the point where I had to stop even just that first episode several times to just kind of. Sit there with my thoughts and then let them go. Even just hearing Mamaw and Papaw made me thing about my gramma and my paw-paw and the uh. Very complicated relationship we "enjoyed". I feel like memories cropped up at the strangest things, like when he talked about copperheads out in the woods and I remembered that Easter when the egg hunt was canceled because one of the parents went to put an egg in a hole in the ground and found a whole nest of baby copperheads. I remembered the woods out there on the Tennessee side of Bristol twenty-five years ago when Mama would still let me visit my grandparents.
He'd say "thou shalt not suffer a witch to live" and I'd be right back there at Gramma's kitchen table, seven years old and reading through every verse the Bible had on witches as punishment after Gramma found a Harry Potter book in my suitcase.
But listening to the podcast was also a deeply surreal experience because so much of it was familiar that shouldn't have been. My family never would have taught me magic or local folklore. Not ever. Well -- they had their own folklore, as we all do. Laying hands and the like. But the stories that were there before them. Oh no. Not ever.
When I was finally turned loose on the world when I was 18, I was frustratingly liberal for my own family, but annoyingly conservative on a college campus. I had a lot to learn very, very quickly. Thankfully, I did -- and I learned it through taking classes that I never, ever would have been allowed at home. I went from being unwilling to be in the same room as a tarot deck to collecting them myself. (And I have a very lovely collection now, too.) I went from being sort of fascinated if afraid of concepts of magic to taking classes on it.
I've always had a particular interest in cunning magic. It came up in my first class on the history of witchcraft, and something about it... I don't know. The combination of folk magic and mainstream religion and the elevation and degradation of them both. I ended up learning a lot about British cunning folk, but particularly quite a bit about those up in Scotland. (Just ask my Sleep No More friends. They'll vouch, probably with a laugh and a shake of the head.)
I never learned much about Appalachia, though. Not about folk magic. So imagine my confusion when I understood all the references made to folk magic in this show. Some of it, sure, was from my childhood. Haints and the lord, etc. But other things, witch bottles and charms and running water, none of this was stuff my family would have taught me. This was the stuff I'd learned in school. On my own, once I graduated. This was the Scottish folk magic which had always called to me in my classes.
And then, y'know, they mentioned it explicitly in the show. That whole Scotch-Irish thing that Appalachia's got going on. And I thought... oh, I've heard Mama talk about that. But I never felt like any of that had much to do with me; I don't have strong familial connections with either side of our family, Mama or Dad's both, and so why would I feel connected to their family history? I feel like an orphan and a mutt most days.
But oh. Of course they did. Of course they brought Scottish and Irish traditions with them when they came, and of course they weren't too dissimilar from the things Scotland had before and after they'd left.
God. Imagine how I felt when I realized that I'd spent over a decade studying the exact subject that my grandmother had always tried to keep from me. I'd come to it a roundabout way after that day sitting at Gramma's table, feet too small to reach the ground and puzzling through verses of the Bible that I've learned since were about necromancy, but I'd done it by accident all the same. I studied the traditions that my family would have had before they picked up the snakes, so to speak, and I'd done it by going right back to the source.
How perfectly fucking bizarre.
And that, all that took some getting used to. But I got used to it. I kept listening, glad that at least that part of my childhood was something I'd managed to put to bed. I could listen to the rest of the show without being hurled back to my infancy.
Oh, I'm sorry. Did I mention that Dad's side is Pennsylvania Dutch? :')
Who the fuck has characters who are Pennsylvania Dutch?
So then all that's happening in the show, and I'm thinking about when I went to Alsace just before the pandemic hit, when I spent Christmastime there and I was inundated with traditions that had been passed down to me from my father. How strange it was to finally light candles for an advent wreath and know exactly from whence that tradition had come. When I was in Strasbourg, our tour guide was genuinely psyched to meet someone whose family was Pennsylvania Dutch because, well, he knew exactly where my family was from. It was such a very weird experience.
And now! Fuck! Here it is again! And I'm thinking about advent wreaths and baked butter beans and Braucherei and hex signs... all things that, again, I'd had to piece together myself in absentia. All traditions that I had received piecemeal, and ones that I'd had to confront when I myself moved up here to Philadelphia for school.
It's... like going to a family reunion, I guess, where they all recognize you but you don't speak the language. It's the strangest feeling.
But, I mean. I didn't grow up with all this. Mama and Dad went up north, much to the disappointment of her family. (They got upset when she married a Yankee, but then they moved and oof.) So okay, listening to this podcast is a weird trip for me, but it's not that reminiscent of my actual childhood. It's not like there's a character who left her family in Appalachia to go have a baby in Cincinnati, Ohio and what the fuck is going on here? lmao
(Though thankfully, my mama didn't die in childbirth with me. It was just awful close and I was one blue baby.)
When I tell you I had to turn the podcast off and go for a fucking walk!
Like... look. Old Gods of Appalachia is a good podcast. Not every arc and character landed for me, but there are certain episodes that I still marvel at. (The Boy oh The Boy.) Ways of weaving together threads that I really wish I could do as an author. The storytelling is fantastic and the production design nearly impeccable. There are transcripts, which as a woman where we passed down both haints and sign language I very thoroughly appreciate. It's perfectly creepy and the worldbuilding is fantastic.
Those vibes hit is what I'm telling you.
But it's also a podcast that felt in some ways like a history of my family that I had never learned on my own terms. I actually ended up going to my parents and talking about our ethnicity and history and traditions a few times while listening to this show, and I actually ended up learning a lot about my own background. Which... I still feel isn't totally my own to claim, but perhaps I came around to it my own way. It was honestly one of the strangest listening experiences that I have ever experienced.
I'm going back and forth on being a Patreon backer so I can listen to those episodes, too. It's not that I've never backed Patreons before. It's not even that I've never backed podcasts! (I backed TMA back in the day, at least before it changed course a bit and I lost interest.) But, and you are not allowed to judge me for this, damn. Did they have to call it tithing? I just. I know it's just a bit, I know it's not real, but I apparently still have just enough religious damage that I can't make myself do it. It's so dumb. But man. I don't fucking tithe.
We'll see if I make it over that particular hurdle. I'll probably be able to design some mental gymnastics to get me through it. Maybe.
They'll be in Brooklyn the day before my birthday and. idk. Maybe I'll go, if the venue is accessible. Book a trip to Sleep No More as well, make a fun little trip of it.
But... hell. I can't help but notice that the first stop is in Columbus, Ohio, where I once wore a little tiger mask at the zoo, and the last stop is in goddamn Bristol, Tennessee.
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elibeeline · 2 years
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I forgot how hard it is to find a therapist 🙃
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presleyelvissksblog · 3 years
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Date: Thurs July 24 1975
Venue: Ashville Civic Center Location: Asheville NC Showtime: (8:30 pm)
Crowd: 7437
Asheville resident Nancy Fox was there, after she and a girlfriend, along with 7,500 other people, had shelled out a mere $10 for their tickets.
"We were in the orchestra
section; we had good seats," she recalls.
"My heart was jumping out of my skin."
As the dramatic pounding of the timpani drove 2001 to its climax, into the limelight stepped the one, Elvis Presley. the only,
"When he came out, he was bigger than life in that white Old Indian Jumpsuit," Fox
remembers.
An eruption of screams filled the arena as the music segued into a rousing version of another"A writer who had the time could dig up a thousand
stories about Elvis' visit here," noted Asheville Citizen writer Bob Terrell in a July 25 column.
During the almost two-hour performance, the singer, his 15-piece band, 11 member orchestra and slew of backup singers gave the Asheville audience a big show, pausing for only one, unexpected seven minute intermission.
The late gospel great J.D. Sumner, a close Elvis confidant whose band, the Stamps Quartet, had opened for Elvis that night, told the story in his book Elvis:
His Love for Gospel Music and J.D. Sumner (Gospel Quartet Music Company, 1991), which he wrote with Bob Terrell.
In the middle of the show, Elvis looked at him, winced and asked him to take the microphone and introduce the band.
Without further explanation, Elvis left the stage.
"I didn't know where he was going, or if he would be back," Sumner recalled.
He killed time by introducing the band members and telling a couple jokes.
Then, suddenly, Elvis again materialized.
The singer took the mic and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, you've heard about the king being on his throne.
Well, I've been on the throne."
The show went on, and while the Asheville Citizen reviewer observed that "the rock seemed to have gone out [of] Elvis the Pelvis' roll," he did take note of the performer's "brief Kung-fu dance routine during the closing of 'Polk Salad Annie."
"He sounded as good as he'd ever sounded, to me," says Fox.
The more troubled his personal life became, it seems, the more charitable Elvis was in public.
Whatever the reason, the Asheville appearances found the superstar in a most generous mood.
During the course of the three concerts, he gave away the usual fare - the guitar picks, scarves and cigars - but also a hoard of finer, more personal not only goods.
In the middle of the July 22 concert right after his show-stopping trip to the throne - Elvis put his arm around J.D. Sumner and sang his praises, then pulled a massive ring off his finger.
"Here, I want you to have this because I love you," Elvis told his friend.
"Ladies and gentlemen, that's a 10-carat diamond in that ring, and it cost $40,000.
That's how much I love this man."
On the final night, July 24, Elvis bestowed more jewelry, this time on fans he seemingly choose at random. Donna Lewis, of Asheville, and Lloyd Perry, then of Bristol, Tenn. and now of Asheville, each left the concert with a hulking diamond ring. Perry, mystified by the gift, said the next day that "I ain't felt this funny since I got married."
But it was Mike Harris, then a 21-year-old student at Western Carolina University, who really got the kingly goods.
When Harris and his date, ebbie (who's now his wife), got to the arena that night, they found out that their seats were front-row, center, just a few yards away from the stage.
It was a prime vantage point, and it proved to be far more than that once the concert got underway.
At first, Elvis' band went through the usual motions: The theme from 2001 set the scene, then the lights came up and there was Elvis.
"He just strode across the stage,"
Harris remembered in a recent interview with Xpress. "Charlie Hodge, his back-man, put the guitar over him."
The instrument was one of Elvis' favorite six-strings, a personalized Gibson he'd commissioned back in 1968.
His name was engraved in the guitar's neck in a mother-of pearl inlay.
The body was as black as his hair - except for the Kenpo Karate sticker he'd pasted on beneath the lacquer.
He'd played it in shows all over the country, and in several of his movies.
Elvis strummed and sang for a moment, then made a move that even his most ardent fans couldn't have expected.
"He was in his opening number," Harris remembers.
"After he finished the first verse, they went into a break and he stopped, looked straight at me, walked over to the edge of the stage, and said, 'Here, this is yours."
And with that, Elvis pulled the guitar over his head and placed it in Harris' hands.
Stunned, Harris didn't know what to say or do; in a flash, he'd gone from regular concert- goer to owner of a historic Elvis possession.
And Elvis wasn't done with the man he'd given his favorite guitar to. "Three or four songs later, he calls me back up to the stage, and I'm thinking, 'I'm going to give it back,"
Harris recalls.
Elvis leaned down, looked him straight in the eye and said, "I gave that to you for a reason." Even now, 30 years later, "I have no clue what the reason was," Harris admits.
He may not know why Elvis gave it to him, but Harris has done his best to do the instrument and its - original owner - justice.
Most days, the guitar resides in a local bank.
"It sits in the back of a vault behind lock-boxes," Harris says. "I go see it a lot, and change the strings so the neck won't warp." As for the original strings, he's had them laminated
and locked up too. The guitar has seen plenty of post-Elvis use, though. Harris brings it out for friends, his kids and curious reporters, and he used to take it to class every year when he taught third-graders at Bell Elementary.
Meanwhile, Harris says, "I have become an Elvis nut," though it might be more accurate to say that he has become Elvis.
"I have the jumpsuits and the wigs and the sunglasses and all the mess that goes with it," he says, ticking off an impressive roster of locales he's played as an amateur but accomplished Elvis impersonator from Asheville
He even has his own groupies.
Sure, a man with Elvis' guitar knows he's sitting on a potential gold mine. "Oh, I'd love to have the money that it could be worth," he says.
Plenty of auction houses have come calling, and a few years ago, he met a vintage
instrument dealer in Knoxville who offered him $125,000, cash money, on the spot.
He turned the offer down.
"I'm in no hurry to sell it, let's put it like that," Harris says.
"It would be nice to pay off a mortgage, or pay off colleges, to not have anything to worry about, but then," he says, taking a long pause, “I don't have the guitar."
Elvis left Asheville on July 25, jetting home to
Memphis for some much-needed R and R.
After three days and nights in Asheville, he'd left behind great stories, grand gifts and high hopes that he'd one day return.
In fact, he'd planned to do just that, before he was detoured to that big concert arena in the sky. Elvis died Aug. 16, 1977, the day before he was to leave on another of his country-hopping tours; he'd booked a show in Asheville for Aug. 26.
The show, of course, had sold out well in advance.
Instead of seeing the King that night, thousands of his fans gathered in the Civic
Center for a memorial tribute.
Those who'd seen his last Asheville show carried with them more than just cherished memories, thanks to one last special gesture he made
At the request of his father, Vernon, who was in attendance at the July 24 concert, he'd performed one of his few known live renditions of a song he'd recorded, Troy Seals' "Pieces of My Life."
In the last verse, Elvis sang words that rang true for both himself and the fans whose lives he'd touched:
"I'm looking back on my life/ To see if I can find the pieces
Lord, the pieces of my life/ They're everywhere, they're everywhere.❤️✨
✨❤️ This is one remarkable man ❤️✨
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