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Coffee and Riffs part 49…

Nick Reinhart!!!

Hell yes. 

7

LOOKING AT APPALACHIA ANEW with Roger May

We’re thrilled to give a shoutout today to Roger May and his project Looking at Appalachia, which got a fantastic feature today on the NY Times Lens Blog. Roger has been a past contributor to The American Guide and while he currently resides in North Carolina he was born in Kentucky, raised in West Virginia and calls himself an “Appalachian American”.

From the Lens Blog:

Intent on creating an alternative visual narrative, Mr. May issued a call last year on Instagram for a project called “Looking at Appalachia,” inviting professional and amateur photographers to submit images that reflect the 13-state region today. The response was overwhelming, leading to the selection of almost 300 images for the website and 75 prints that are now on exhibit at the Spartanburg County Public Libraries Headquarters in South Carolina.

Be sure to check out today’s Times feature here as well as Roger’s Looking at Appalachia site here. Also check out Roger’s personal website and his past contributions to The American Guide.

Photo credits:

1. Jake Reinhart

2. Ashley Hoffman

3. Shelby Lee Adams

4. Wes Frazer

5. Katie Currid

6. Nathan Armes

7. Dobree Adams

Looking at Appalachia will be on exhibit May 21st to June 26th at The Spartanburg County Headquarters Library, located at 151 South Church St in Spartanburg, South Carolina. Hours are Sunday 1:30PM - 6PM, Monday thru Friday 9AM - 9PM and Saturday 9AM-6PM.

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Postmodern Jukebox and Singer Haley Reinhart Perform a Vintage Jazz Cover of The Cardigans’ Song ‘Lovefool’

reinharts asked:

happy birthday!! :) hope it's a good one (and fingers crossed the wild win tonight)

Thanks!

And I really don’t think it’s possible to have my fingers crossed anymore than they already are

every finger I have

crossed

Haley-ized, Reinharts, Haley Reinhart... New words in my dictionary.

New words you can use for your daily lives:

1. Haley-ized, adj.

-Made stronger by criticisms and problems; opinionated but considers and still listens to other’s crappy reasoning.

-Example: “The Haley-ized Obama let his detractors speak first before giving his ever-rightful explanation.”

2. Reinharts, verb, pl. Reinhart

-Bested everyone; believed to be the chosen one; leaves a mark.

-Example: “After the first round, among the several groups that joined this competition in this ‘fiesta night’, I think, the duo of jazz vocalists reinharts all of them. Well, specially hearing that duet of the country singers: so bland.”

3. Haley Reinhart, noun

-warrior but a genius; sweet but sassy; talented but down-to-earth; flips hair gorgeously, growls gracefully.

-Example: “Hmmn… Haley Reinhart is Haley Reinhart. Period. o_0" 

Now, test your vocabulary skills. Try it now!

LOL. o_0

~haleythatilove

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Lovefool - Vintage Jazz Cardigans Cover ft. Haley Reinhart

Request: Undone

Request: Hello. I was wondering if you could do a SamxReader based off of the song undone by Haley Reinhart? Thank you so much!!!

Word Count: 940

Here it is, I hope you like it! Thanks!<3

PS. The song made me cry like a baby. I hope you’re happy :p

Yet again, you find yourself staring at the bottom of a bottle. The burn of alcohol still tingles at your tongue and you sigh, wishing that it had some kind of effect.

You were told it was going to make the feelings go away, but you’re just a mess of muddled, swirling thoughts and feelings and memories – no different than you were three hours ago.

Y/N, I need you to listen to me.” Sam pleads, “You have to understand-”

“You’re too stubborn to make this work.” You hiss, rage blazing through every fibre of your body. You’ve never been so angry in your life.

You stumble over to the bag on the bed, digging through it in hopes of another bottle. No such look, and you’re left with nothing but your thoughts for company.

“It’s not about being stubborn. It’s about keeping you safe because I love you.”

“If you loved me at all, you’d… you’d stay.”

“Don’t, Y/N.”

“Don’t go, then.”
Lying back on the bed, your eyes fixate on a small speck of black on the otherwise bland alabaster ceiling. You sigh, closing your eyes.

Bad idea. Your mind floods with images of him. Laughing, crying, smiling, talking, reading. Everything.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“You made it harder.” You choke back a sob, “What happened to forever?”

He looks at you sadly, his eyes brimming with tears that he won’t shed until later, when you can’t see. You know, though.

“Everything happened.”

Where does love go when it’s gone? Does it ever really leave at all? Or does it somehow transfer into other emotions? The fear, anger; sadness. Does that use up the love that once took up such a huge place in your heart? One day, will the cavity replenish itself with fondness? Bitterness?

“See that one up there?”

“Sam, there are billions of them.” You giggle, looking over at him. Your hand wanders over the dewy grass to find his own, and you lace your fingers with his.

“That one. Straight up there, the bright one.”

“Uh… yeah, I see you.” You follow the direction he’s pointing in, grinning.

“That’s our star.” He whispers, “So if we’re ever apart, you look up and so will I, and it can be like we’re together.”

It’s so dark outside; streetlights left off to conserve power in a small town like this. But the star burns bright still, like nothing has ever happened.

***

“Sam, get your ass back in here. You’ll catch your death.” Dean yells from the warmth of the motel room. His younger brother doesn’t answer, however, still lying on the hood of the Impala and staring at the sky.

Dean hauls himself to his feet and storms out, flinging the door open.

“Sam?”

Still, no answer. Dean walks around, hopping up on the hood alongside his brother.

“What you lookin’ at?”

“It was ours,” Sam whispers.

“You and Y/N?” He asks, prompting a nod from his brother. Dean notices the clear tear-tracks down his cheeks and sighs, lying back against the windscreen miserably. Sure, you’d been with Sam, but you were his friend too. His sister in all but blood. He misses you too – the last week has been pure torture for him. It’s been lonely without your laughter and cheerful teasing; your jokes and your reassurances. There’s an empty space in the family now.

“Oh, come on, Sammy. Just call her.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“She hates me.” He whispers into the night, your words coming back to him.

“I don’t know why I ever bothered loving you, Sam Winchester.” You hiss, your words burdened with unshed tears and anger, “I should have known you’d be so pig-headed and pathetic.”

“No she doesn’t.” Dean states, “She couldn’t hate you.”

“You didn’t hear how she was talking, Dean.” Sam whispers, wiping away tears, “You couldn’t know. She hates me. I could die tomorrow and she wouldn’t care.”

“Not true.” Dean dismisses him, “You were perfect together, okay? I don’t know your reasoning behind all of this and honestly, I don’t care. The fact is, you’ve lost the love of your life and I’ve lost my best friend because of it.”

A shot of guilt rockets through Sam and he sighs, sliding off of the car.

“Tell me what I’m supposed to do.”

“I can’t.”

***

“I thought you said you wouldn’t be calling.” You say as soon as the ringing stops. Sam is silent, and you can’t even hear him breathing.

“I know. I lied.”

“Like you did about loving me?”

“Y/N, please.” He whispers, “Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Don’t leave you? Don’t kick you out of the only family you’ve ever known?” You hiss, raking a hand through your hair, “Sam-”

“I was wrong!” He bursts out, “I was so, so wrong Y/N. I don’t… I do… I love you, okay? I always have and I always will. I was trying to keep you safe but… safe is… I don’t know what safe is.”

“Sam, are you drunk?”

“No.”

“Then get your ass down here so I can… I don’t know. Kick you, kill you, or kiss you. One or the other.” You find yourself laughing, despite the tears running down your face. After reeling off the location, you hang up, your head spinning. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just hope, but you know one thing.

You thought it was the end, but now you realise… it’s just another beginning.

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Creep, 50s-style