When someone asks who your crush is and once you answer they reply with “who?” So you tell them to google them and once they do they’re like “ewwwww he’s a raisin”……ya kinda just sigh, take their phone, and type in ‘young’ after their name.
Mudkip was the first starter I crocheted! The first one is a bigger one around 7″ (~18cm) tall and the second one is a little bitty one around 3″ (8cm) tall. I’m still kind of iffy about the colors for both but my partner loves them so I guess it’s fine
Wait! I have a better scenario! What if the doppelgangers of Grif and Simmons actively HATE each other? And our Simmons is trying to make them see how important they are to each other! And, in the process, realizes exactly how much he needs his Grif!
their last night is quiet. all warmth and smoke, and the gentle tinkling of the teapot as they pass it around (it’s about time you learnt how to make it properly).
it’s dark, but there’s still so much colour - isak didn’t know there were so many colours - blues and pinks and yellows and greys. he wants to bottle it and take it home. he wants to take everything home.
you’ll have to settle for me, even tells him.
okay. I’ll keep you, isak says with a shrug and even pulls him close, fun and pinching.
I’m glad to hear it.
even smells different here, and smiles different, and just is different. changed. and isak’s sure that by the time they get home he’ll have their next trip planned. and all their trips after that.
[even’s some impossible balance of planning and spontaneity that isak still hasn’t figured out.]
do you still think about marriage? isak asks when the other boys have drifted away.
even fumbles with his cup. shit, isak, he says with a laugh, his eyes crinkling and bright and true. yes, I do. marriage with you.
when? soon? or later, when I’m older and we have some money?
i don’t know.
isak pulls a face, abandoning his tea to press closer yes you do.
okay, I do, but I didn’t want to scare you with it all.
you can’t scare me. nothing scares me, remember?
how could I forget?
you should ask me, isak says, definitively, and it feels so right and so easy. like they were always headed to this place in this time. and I’ll say yes. and we’ll elope to another new place. a deserted island.
who’s going to marry us if it’s deserted?
well, fuck, even, I don’t know. you asked me, aren’t you going to make some decisions?
even laughs, like music, like all the old sounds and all the new ones they know now, all these things they’ll never forget. the world outside their walls. you’re amazing isak valtersen.
you mean isak bech næsheim.
maybe I wanna be even valtersen.
no, that’s terrible, I’m definitely taking your name.
okay, even says on a breath, bottom lip rolling against isak’s skin as he pulls back from a kiss. I’ll keep you.
Ralph Gleason, San Francisco Chronicle, 19 March 1967
The Grateful Dead, a loud and very much alive Haight-Ashbury rock band, is hippier and happier than almost any group that comes to mind.
They’re a fun-loving, far-out group with a hard-driving sound which is surfacing above the vast San Francisco rock underground.
The Dead, Jefferson Airplane, Charlatans, Country Joe and the Fish, Big Brother and the Holding Co. and several other bizarre bands have plugged San Francisco into a rock movement which now exerts a nationwide influence on pop music.
One of the principal reasons is Jerry (Captain Trips) Garcia, 24, lead guitar for the Grateful Dead.
Garcia, regarded by some critics as one of the best guitarists in the country, used to teach his instrument in a Palo Alto music store. He earned his nickname, friends say, because “everything is a trip with him."
Other members of the Dead are just as alive. There’s Ron McKernan, 21, on organ, harp, and vocal, known as "Pig Pen,” for his outrageous appearance: long black hair, Indian head band, long black mustache, short, hefty build and a much-worn vest. He has been described as “one of the major bluesmen in America."
Youngest is Bob Weir, 19, thin and soft-looking, with straight, very long hair. Weir brings his own sort of richness to the rhythm guitar.
Phil Lesh, 27, is an astoundingly good bass player. He shares song-writing chores with Garcia.
Bill Sommers, 21, played drums with about 12 rock bands before he "finally settled on the Grateful Dead.”
They pocket concert fees as readily as any group, but they play only on their own terms. They’d rather play for free in the park (and often do) than for money in an atmosphere which will “bring us down."
"We’re not a recording band,” said Garcia. “We’re a dance band."
Something about the Dead’s music can’t be captured on records. Partly it’s because they draw from so many different idioms: blues, country and western, popular music, even classical. "We’re musical thieves,” Garcia noted. “We steal from everywhere."
It has more to do with the excitement of playing weekly concerts to very tuned-in dance-hall audiences. These aren’t ordinary concerts. They’re psychedelic and extreme examples of total environmental theater, which engages all the senses: thunderous rock music, light shows that burst and flow in choruses of color, hundreds of dancing young people, incense floating through your mind.
The Grateful Dead tried to capture this gut-level excitement in their album called The Grateful Dead. Though there’s a taste of the Fillmore Auditorium and Avalon Ballroom, the full flavor doesn’t come through.
However, the album can stand alone. It contains some fine work, such as the strangely haunting "Morning Dew,” the bluesy “Good Mornin’ Little Schoolgirl” and “Viola Lee Blues,” which is as close to jazz as Paul Butterfield’s “East-West.”
The songs convey a sense of integration in the playing that has come about through the Dead’s having played and lived together, sharing experiences and dreams, for nearly three years. With their two managers and an assortment of friends they have occupied a nine-room Victorian house one block from Haight Street.
But they are leaving the Haight-Ashbury soon. They expect to live for awhile in the Southwest, perhaps Santa Fe, New Mexico.
“We’ve been squeezed out by tourists and Tenderloin types,” said Rock Scully, one of their managers.